"Good evening, Mrs. House. How's our patient doing today?" Dr. Cameron smiled as she entered Wilson's hospital room twenty-two hours, fifty-four minutes, and nineteen seconds after her fruitless conversation with her boss. Blythe House was standing next to Wilson's bed, brushing his hair back maternally. The elder woman looked up when the doctor entered and gave a wan smile of her own.
"Better, I think. His temperature feels lower, and he hasn't been so restless. But, then again, I'm no doctor," she gave a humorless laugh. Cameron gave her another grin before setting about checking the various monitors and statistics.
"I think you're right. He's definitely showing some significant signs of improvement," Cameron widened her smile even more and touched the older woman's arm encouragingly before turning to leave.
"Dr. Cameron?" Blythe stopped her. "How is Greg taking all of this?" Cameron's smile disappeared.
"He hasn't been down here?" she questioned, feeling shocked but knowing she really shouldn't be. Blythe shook her head.
"I haven't seen him since I arrived here."
"Really?" Cameron shifted her weight.
"I know he must have been very busy before, but surely he could make the time now," the obviously exhausted woman continued.
"Well, Dr. House is the Head of his department. He always has a lot of work to do, even after a case is finished," the young doctor half-lied. There was a lot of work to be done, but House was never the one doing it. Blythe nodded wearily, looking back down at Wilson, and Cameron felt a sharp pang of sympathy.
"I'll tell you what, I have to be in the clinic in a couple of minutes, but I'll have Dr. Cuddy find him for you."
"Thank you, dear," Blythe grinned gratefully. Cameron smiled back before making a swift exit and heading straight for Cuddy's office.
One hour, ten minutes, and twenty-seven seconds later, the door to House's balcony opened up once again. Lisa Cuddy stepped out into the cold winter evening and pulled her jacket tighter around herself before closing the door. House remained in his position on the ground, having no intention of acknowledging whoever was disturbing him now. Why couldn't anyone in this hospital take a hint?
"House?" Cuddy's voice was soft as she stepped forward, taking her time while approaching him.
"I knew I should have locked that door," he told her, voice barely audible from where she stood.
"Wouldn't have done you any good," Cuddy grinned while taking a seat beside him. "I have a key."
"As far as you know," House almost sounded like himself, but he did not face his boss when he spoke. Cuddy gave a small laugh for the circumstance's sake but made a mental note to check her keys later.
"Cameron says you haven't seen Wilson or your mother since his admittance," she decided to get this over with.
"Cameron needs to mind her own business," the older doctor replied, and though he tried to hide it, Cuddy saw him shiver.
"Are you all right?" she asked with a concerned frown.
"Fine," House replied, looking down, hiding his eyes that could reveal so much.
"You're lying she told him bluntly, reminding him she knew better.
"I said I'm fine," he finally looked up at her, 'Leave it alone' clear in his eyes. "How about you, Dr. Cuddy? Did my little swimmers do the trick, or was it strike one?"
"I just had the procedure two days ago. I won't know for a few weeks. Now stop trying to change the subject. You need to get down there."
"Past experience has taught me that when what other people think I need and what I know I need differ, always go with the opinion of the one with the highest IQ. And, you know it's funny, I always seem to win."
"House, Wilson woke up about ten minutes ago," Cuddy began. An emotion flashed across House's face, but it disappeared too quickly for her to decipher. "He's off the respirator, and he's asking for you." She paused to allow him time to take in this new information. "Whatever this is that the two of you have going, it works. It's good for you. You almost seemed…happy. But the bitch about being in a real relationship is you actually have to be there for the other person. He needs you now. Don't screw this up."
She spoke her last words as a warning before getting to her feet. She gave the diagnostician one last glance before turning on her heels and leaving him alone once more with only the winter's first snow to keep him company.
When house entered the room, he wasn't surprised to find both of its occupants sleeping soundly. It had been thirty-two minutes and fifty-one seconds since Cuddy had left him sitting outside, and his damaged right leg was telling him off for staying out so long in the freezing night air. He felt stiffer than he had felt in a long time. Sucking it up, he closed the door quietly behind himself and slowly made his way over to his mother's chair.
"Mom," House whispered, placing a hand on her shoulder. Blythe started awake, nearly jumping out of her seat, but she relaxed when she saw her son standing above her.
"Oh, Greg!" the elderly woman put a hand to her chest in relief. "It's only you."
"Didn't mean to scare you," he apologized.
"Honey, are you all right?" Blythe asked, suddenly concerned as her vision cleared and she took in her son's appearance. Had he slept at all? His nose and cheeks were tinged with red, his clothes and hair seemed a bit damp, and she could feel how cold his hand was through her shirt. Surely he hadn't been outside in this weather.
"I'm fine," House lied. "I had a few orderlies get a spare room ready for you."
"Thank you, but you look like you could use the rest more than I could," the woman hinted subtly. House shook his head.
"I – I think I should be here," he explained. Blythe stared into her child's beautiful blue eyes for a long moment and, for the first time in a long time, found herself unable to read them. But, even though she was still worried, she understood his desire to be there. So she gave a nod of assent, squeezed Greg's hand, and relinquished her chair.
House didn't see her leave the room. He kept his eyes focused on the man lying so still on the bed before him. He never heard her return two minutes and seven seconds later. He was unaware of anything but the rhythmic beating of the heart monitor until something solid blocked his view and a thick blanket was draped over his lap. Surprised, he looked up to see his mother's anxious face.
"Either the blanket stays or I do," she stated. House gave her a small grin and pulled the blanket up further in response. Blythe grinned back wearily before squeezing her son's shoulder and leaving once more. House let out a small sigh as the door closed, taking one hand out from under the blanket and pinching the bridge of his nose. He could feel another headache coming on and cursed under his breath. He was still getting use to these everyday aches and pains that his leg pain and vicodin had suppressed for the past six years, but considering the excruciating pain he was use to living with, he figured it could be worse.
"House?" The man in question dropped his hand and looked up at the sound of the weak whisper. He wanted to smile when he saw the big brown eyes staring back at him, but he resisted. Why would Wilson be happy to see him? After all, he'd no less than abandoned the man when he'd needed him the most.
"Hey, Jimmy. How are you feeling?" House questioned awkwardly.
"Better now," came the quiet reply. House nodded in response then looked down. He hadn't felt this guilty in a long time. Even in his hazy, slightly fevered state, Wilson could sense something was wrong. "House?" the sick man filled his voice with as much concern as he could muster.
"When I was eight, my parents sat me down and proceeded to tell me that by the end of that year, I was going to be a big brother. I, of course, hated the idea. I got angry, resentful even. But, nevertheless, I ended up spending Christmas Eve in some noisy English hospital waiting for the smelly twerp to make her first appearance. It was dawn on Christmas morning before she finally decided to announce her presence, and she wasn't quiet about it, believe you me. In fact, she was never quite again. But I was wrong about her. No one could have asked for a better little sister. And she was smart. Very smart. She probably would have ended up smarter than me.
She was curious about everything. She always had to know what this was and how that worked. She would follow me everywhere. She thought I was the smartest person in the whole wide world. She would even cry when I went to school because she couldn't go with me. The kid had these big green eyes that made me feel so guilty, I would skip hanging out with my friends or playing sports so that I could get home as soon as possible." House paused his speech. He was becoming much more emotional than he thought he would, and he didn't like it one bit.
"My dad was a big sort of 'outdoorsman'. I guess that comes with being a military man. So, one day he decided to take Emma out for a hike in the woods. She loved it, of course. There were so many things to touch and explore. She died eight days later."
"What happened to her?" Wilson asked carefully, watching his friend with subtle anxiety. House took a deep breath but didn't look up.
"Started with a fever and a cough. Mom and dad assumed it was the flu; doctors agreed. They gave her a couple little pills and sent her on her way. A couple days later she was still getting sicker. Mom wanted to take her to the hospital, but dad just told her she was being ridiculous. Dad went out to do the grocery shopping the next day because mom refused to leave Emma's bedroom. The kid's temperature kept rising, and mom had had enough waiting. She just picked Emma up and practically ran for the door, calling for me to come as she went. When we got to the car, she handed Emma to me and drove like a street racer to the nearest hospital.
I remember how it felt to hold that little girl as she tossed and turned and cried and whimpered. And for the first time since she was born, I couldn't make it all better. She stopped breathing five minutes out. I don't think I've ever been so terrified in my entire life. I had no idea how to help her. All I could do was sit there and pray. They got her breathing again once we arrived, but that just ended up being a curse. She lay there suffering for three more days while her so-called 'doctors' debated what was wrong.
Mom and I never left the room. Not once. We just sat in those miserable excuses for chairs and held onto either of her hands. Dad was in and out of the room. He said he couldn't bear to see his precious little girl in such pain. Then the day before my birthday, she opened her eyes. It was only for a second, but those big, green, innocent eyes looked straight into mine, and she smiled…well, as much as she could with a tube down her throat." House paused, running a hand down his tired face and fiddling with his blanket because he no longer had his cane to play with.
"She slipped into a coma as soon as her eyes closed again. And I prayed so hard I was sure that every divine being in the cosmos could hear me over anyone else. But I was wrong, Wilson. No one was listening to me because there's no one up there to listen. No all-loving, all-powerful God would torture and kill the innocent like your so-called God does. She died the next day – the same hour I turned fourteen. During the autopsy, the medical examiner found a little black bug hiding in her curly blonde locks."
"It was a parasite," Wilson whispered to himself. House nodded wordlessly, lowering his head even more until his chin was touching his chest. A wave of understanding washed over the young oncologist, and he used one hand to remove his oxygen mask from his face while the other reached out toward his best friend of so many years. House saw the movement out of the corner of his eye and instinctively grasped the outstretched hand. When he looked up, Wilson saw the unshed tears swimming in the older man's eyes and was taken aback. The rush of foreign yet familiar feelings that surged through him was so strong that he couldn't hold back a small gasp. Hearing this, House let his mind focus completely on the scene in front of him and stood in a rush of panic.
"What do you think you're doing? Put that mask back on before you kill yourself! I just saved your ass once. I'm not sure if I have enough energy to do it again," he cleverly disguised his concern as anger.
"House," Wilson grabbed his wrists to stop his agitated movements.
"Let go, or I'll let you suffocate," House replied. Wilson clutched a handful of shirt in response and locked eyes with the man above him. House gave him a questioning look, clearly uncomfortable after having bared his soul.
"Come here," the younger man grinned, pulling his best friend down into a slow deep kiss. "I missed you," he whispered against his lips, kissing him harder. House smiled into it.
"I missed me too."
Sorry for the long wait for this one. I went back and revised it I don't know how many times to try and get it right. I hope I succeeded! Keep those reviews coming! You're all so wonderful. Thank you to everyone! Next chapter: Wilson gets to go home. House shows him just how lonely he's been without him...