Finally, a new chapter...
Later that day, the three of them were watching the credits of a movie pass by in a comfortable silence.
"Let's go eat," Wilson said suddenly. "I mean, go out. Somewhere good."
House rolled his eyes, muting the TV. He looked from Wilson to Jacob silently. Jacob's expression sealed the deal – he was looking excited at the prospect.
He leaned forward over his cane, dropping it and letting it bounce thoughtfully. "Where?"
Wilson grinned. He knew that, under normal circumstances, House would have rejected the thought immediately, preferring to stay home and have someone deliver. But Jacob was quickly becoming his soft spot.
Wilson shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. Jacob, what are you in the mood for?"
Jacob looked taken aback at the question. "Me?" he asked, pointing to himself.
"No, the other Jacob," House said sarcastically. "Yes, you. What do you want?"
The boy looked taken aback. "… Well… What's good?"
House rolled his eyes, but Wilson just laughed. "Well, there's all kinds of stuff around here. Italian, sea food, that burger joint – that isn't too far – uh, there's that Mexican restaurant… Chinese…"
Jacob's mouth was watering already. He was unused to so many choices when it came to meals – usually, he ate what he could scrounge together in the house or just didn't eat at all. That was why he was so skinny – three meals a day was a luxury he literally couldn't afford.
He smiled brightly. "Mexican, please."
Thirty minutes later, and they were on the way to El Sombrero. "House, stop messing with the radio while you're driving."
House ignored him, continuing to fiddle with the bass and treble settings with one eye on the road. "Ah, worry wart. There isn't even any traffic."
Wilson rolled his eyes. "I'm not letting you drive anymore if you aren't going to pay attention.
House scoffed, but he obliged, putting his hand back on the wheel. Wilson was catiously amazed – House normally didn't give in like that.
He just about peed himself when House jerked the wheel sharply, wrenching the car sideways and then back onto the lane.
He was laughing uproariously at Wilson's angry expression. "Not funny!"
Jacob was snorting in the back seat, enjoying the banter. It was, again, something that he'd had little experience with. He remembered when his parents had been together, but they'd been nothing like these two. They'd been reserved, politically correct and socially acceptable. His dad had been a repairman and his mom a teacher. Not high up on the social scale, not living the rich dream, but pretending like they were.
Of course, that had changed fairly rapidly after his mom had died.
The car turning brought him back into the present. They'd pulled up in front of a small, brick building, with a tiled roof and a large, florescent sombrero on top.
"We have arrived," House said somewhat dramatically, unbuckling and sliding out of the car. Jacob followed the pair closely, looking around.
It was… homey. A small business restaurant that was probably family-run. The smells of the tortilla chips and peppers were already making his mouth water.
Soon, they had their meal, and were chatting amiably. House and Wilson were discussing their favorite all time clinic cases, and Jacob was listening intently.
"Once," House said, laughing as he gestured with a tortilla chip at Wilson, "Once, I had this old man who had somehow gotten his dentures glued to his mouth, and together. It took me twenty minutes to even figure out what was wrong with him – he couldn't talk!"
Wilson laughed, and Jacob felt a sense of comfort at the sound. All at once, he was comfortable and full and happy, three things he had not felt at the same time in years. He smiled at his two new favorite people and leaned back, enjoying their voices even more than their words.
Jacob went back to school the next day, and House was given time off work by Cuddy to go to the school and set up the paperwork. Jacob needed a change of residence and guardian, both things that House had to go to the high school for.
He'd driven Jacob to school, and they were now sitting outside of the slightly imposing building. House was slightly nostalgic, reminded of his own high school days.
"Well, come on," he said after a moment, opening the door and sliding out. He was halfway to the door before Jacob could even make his legs work.
Truth be told, he was petrified at the thought of class that day. His black eye had faded, not even noticeable unless you knew it was there, so he wasn't worried about that. He was nervous about the questions that would follow his obvious improvement in monetary status - and, now that he thought about it and saw kids staring at House and his cane - the questions that would follow his odd new guardian.
House wasn't fazed by the paperwork, but Jacob hadn't expected him to be. What he did find horrifying – and slightly hilarious – was the fact that House was returning every curious look that the faculty and students were giving him with a face that could have made a mime laugh out loud. He was grateful that House was trying to be lighthearted, but he knew that questions would still follow.
House was thinking the same thing. If only Wilson could have done this, he thought to himself, signing his name yet again in an untidy scrawl. If the kid wasn't being bullied before, he will now, what with an old cripple as his legal guardian.
House then spent the day at work wound up and tense. He wouldn't admit it, but he was thinking about Jacob. Wilson was, too, and they spent lunch silent and contemplative, neither man very hungry.
None of his ducklings had the courage to ask questions, which House was grateful for. He didn't have the energy to come up with fifty different sarcastic answers to fifty different pointed questions.
Taub, back from his vacation, was left totally out of the loop. He was perceptive enough to know that something was going on, but none of the other fellows had felt the need to fill him in just yet – not with House hanging around so closely.
Cuddy had no such restraint. During a lull in the day, with all four of his employees out and about, Cuddy had knocked at his door and come in. She had to clear her throat twice before House noticed her sitting there.
"What?" he asked, distracted by something on the computer. He glanced at her quickly, then back to the screen.
"Pause your porn and pay attention," she demanded.
House made a face at her, but turned away from the monitor. "You're prettier anyway," he leered, but his gaze lacked sincerity.
She rolled her eyes. "Whatever. How's the kid?"
House blinked. "Well, he was a little tough, but Wilson cooked him for a while longer and added some cream of mushroom-"
"House!" Cuddy barked, exasperated. "Seriously. How's it going?"
"I'm not seeing how that's any of your business," he deflected, turning back to the screen.
Cuddy cocked her jaw and leaned around the desk to see what he was so interested in. It looked like a website for background information.
"Who's life are you trying to ruin?" she asked, letting the subject of Jacob drop for a moment.
"Always assuming the worst of me, aren't you?" he muttered, still focusing on the screen.
There was a moment of silence. "I'm looking for someone."
"For what?"
House finally turned to her, scowling. He turned off the computer screen, crossing his arms. "Don't you have parking spaces to assign?"
Cuddy ignored the jibe. "I'm not going till you tell me how it's going with Jacob."
House assessed her silently, his eyes calculating. After a long moment of quiet, he spoke.
"It's okay so far. Only one major breakdown so far. Kid's got some serious gun-shy issues."
Cuddy leaned back. "What do you mean, major breakdown?"
House felt that he could share what had happened with Cuddy, so he did. It was that same inexplicable feeling of trust he'd shared with her that had caused her to let him administer the IVF treatments when she'd been trying to get pregnant. Next to Wilson, she was the only one he could comfortably speak of his life with.
"So you pushed Wilson into blowing up, and the kid ran off. Very mature."
House scowled at her. "Yes, I realize it wasn't the most brilliant thing in the world. It won't happen again. But that isn't the point. He's obviously got some pretty deep issues."
Cuddy could hear the worry under his tone, and she sat down on the desk. "Did you think he wouldn't? He was abused."
House shook his head. "I knew he would. I'm just not sure how to even begin to fix them."
Cuddy swallowed thickly. Seeing House like this, so worried and protective of another person, was both unfamiliar and heartwarming. "Well, you could start by stopping pushing Wilson's buttons," she half joked. When House glared at her, she dropped the jokes and continued. "You probably don't want to hear it, but counseling would do him a world of good.
House looked pained, and turned his monitor back on. He gestured to the screen when it pulled back up.
"I'm checking out different therapists, for him."
His voice was quiet, thoughtful. "Though, if he goes, Wilson is going to want me to find one too."
Cuddy furrowed her brow. House had already been checking out counseling options? She suddenly saw him in a new light – saw how he'd matured since Mayfield. Though, as far as she knew, therapy with Nolan hadn't stuck after he and Wilson had made the decision for him to begin vicodin again, at least House didn't seem to hate therapy all together. He probably wouldn't admit it, but Nolan had helped him.
He seemed to read her mind. "I don't think that all therapists are evil soul sucking monsters. Just because I stopped seeing mine –"
Cuddy cut him off, waving her hand. "I know. I didn't think you did. And you know, I think therapy would do you good too," she added earnestly. "Not a drug therapist, another one."
House looked a bit pained. "You know, I never talked to you about going back to Vicodin. I just – "
Again, Cuddy cut him off. "Don't," she said, shaking her head. "Wilson and I already talked. And from my account, your levels have gone down exponentially."
House looked mildly amused. "You were keeping tabs on me?"
"Did you expect me not to?" she shot back. "I know you're taking other things, with a lower level of Vicodin. It's no where near dangerous levels – not like what you were taking before. I'm not upset with you."
And she wasn't. When Wilson had come to her home, panicked and tense, and had explained to her how much pain House had been in the weeks after Mayfield, she'd given in rather quickly. If Wilsonwas defending House's Vicodin, there was no questioning to be done.
House looked up at her, pain in his eyes. "Cuddy, if I ever get to the point… where I'm hallucinating again, or even slightly losing it… I'll stop. I'm not going to put you through that again."
There was such sincerity in his voice that Cuddy believed the words as soon as they came out of his mouth. In many ways, Mayfield had torn down the walls that House had spent so long building up. Even if he had relapsed, it didn't mean it was for nothing. Now, he could be painfully honest with her, when he chose to be.
She gripped his arm and squeezed, saying nothing.
Jacob tried to be invisible at school that day. He kept his head down, skipped lunch in favor of the library, and hugged the walls. He was praying to himself, pretty much constantly, that his appearance would remain unnoticed, and that the rumor of his new guardian had not spread.
Of course, it had. As he'd walked to class from the library, his hands in his pockets and his head down, someone had tripped him. He's landed face down, trying and failing to catch his fall with his hands.
"Nice upgrade, dipshit," the freshmen bully sneered, looking down at him as he struggled to get off the floor. The commotion had already attracted several onlookers, who were hoping for a fight to liven up the day.
Jacob said nothing. The boy tormenting him, Garret, hadn't left him alone since fifth grade, when he'd accidentally spilled milk on the boy's head after tripping in the lunchroom. He'd had to pay for it by being constantly tormented from that day on.
Once he'd pulled himself off of the ground, he tried to walk away. But Garret jerked on his backpack, spinning him around.
"I said, nice upgrade, dipshit," he taunted, as if Jacob hadn't heard him the first time. "Who'd you steal it from?"
Jacob didn't want to fight Garret; he had enough problems. "Just leave me alone," he attempted, trying to sound braver than he felt. In reality, he could already feel shivers of anxiety running down his spine.
Garret sneered. "You wimp. Who was that guy with you this morning? He looked like a weak little shit too, limping like that."
Jacob suddenly grew furious, and stood up straighter. "Shut your fat mouth, Garret," he ordered, gaze darkening.
Garret looked gleeful. "Oh, so the little pussy finally grows a spine! What, did I insult your cripple friend?"
Jacob narrowed his eyes. Slowly, methodically, he shouldered off his backpack and dropped it to the ground.
Garret continued as if nothing had happened. "Is he messed up in the head, too? Cuz that's the only reason I can think of that he'd want to be around your sorry ass-"
Suddenly, fists were flying and they were rolling on the ground. "Shut. UP!" Jacob yelled, punching Garret hard in the nose. Years of pent up aggression mixed with a new found fury for House's honor were pouring out in that moment, making him see red.
Scores of students were around them by now, chattering excitedly. Jacob didn't even see them, he was so focused on hurting Garret.
Unfortunately, Garret was still a lot bigger and stronger than Jacob. After the smaller boy had gotten in a few hits, Garret came back with a vengeance, kicking Jacob off of him and socking him hard in the forehead. "Get off me, you freak!" he yelled, still amazed that Jacob had started the fight at all.
Before either boy could get in another hit, they were being pulled apart by intervening students. Jacob couldn't feel it, but blood was dripping down his face where Garret had hit him. Even high-schoolers had a limit, and when blood appeared, it was time to end the fight.
Both boys were breathing hard, Jacob fighting the other two boys who were holding him back. Everyone watching was amazed at Jacob's behavior – from what people knew of him, he was quiet and shy.
In the typical fashion of high schools, it was only after the fight had ended did a teacher show up – a male coach, who escorted both boys to the office. Jacob was taken to the nurse to take care of the cut while the assistant principle called his recently changed legal guardian…
Sorry for the slight cliff hanger. And the delay. And anything else you're unhappy with me about.