Wilson jumped up in his bed, sweat flooding his body, his brown hair plastered to his flushed face. Letting his heart slow, Wilson sat upright, panting heavily. It was just a nightmare. He had to tell himself more than once; the image of that last reflection of a smile frozen on House's face still echoed through his mind.
What had prompted such a night terror? Dreams were said to be the unconscious brain's way of remembering information and piecing it together, right? That's all it was. House's previous attempt at suicide had been lurking in the back of his mind, and this was his brain's way of letting it out. Still, it had been so lifelike.
Wilson tried to go back to sleep, but vision of House falling into perpetual darkness haunted him. Wilson knew what he had to do.
House woke up around 6:00. Just enough time to get ready, which, for House, meant throwing on whatever was lying on top of his dresser, and brushing his teeth. Stretching, House climbed out of bed. Glancing around his bedroom, he was startled to find a very adorable Wilson asleep in the chair beside his bed. How had Wilson gotten in here? And why was he here?
House tiptoed into the kitchen. Trying to make a little noise possible, House grabbed an apple out of the fridge. An apple a day keeps the doctors away. And with all the pesky doctors that bugged him daily at Princeton Plainsboro, namely a Dr. Cameron, he sure needed that apple. House hoped he wouldn't wake Wilson; having Wilson run into Cuddy after being late for work would be almost as funny as it would be watching him try to explain why he was late. What would he say? Uh, I was busy sleeping in House's chair, after I burglared my way into his apartment.
Unfortunately for House, Wilson appeared from behind the fridge door. "Oh, um, good morning House." That was it? House cocked his eyebrows at the oncologist. The best answer House could give himself was that Wilson was paying him back for something he had done to him, God knows what. Another reasonable guess was that Wilson wanted to discuss what House had told late last night; that he loved him. But in that case, Wilson wouldn't just be standing there, yawning, and looking rather bored. What was he waiting for? Surely he knew House better than to think that House would actually ask what he was doing here.
Getting impatient, House shoved Wilson aside, making his way to the door. He wasn't one to wait for anything; he did thing on his own schedule. "Coming?" he questioned to Wilson. Wilson just nodded, following right behind him.
The ride to PPTH was quiet, but uncomfortably, awkwardly quiet. Just peaceful. If Wilson wanted to talk, then he would talk. House drove on in silence, with Wilson looking out the window, staring blankly at the blurry scenery.
Wilson and House nearly ran into Cuddy while they strolled through the glass doors of PPTH. "Oh, sorry Wilson. House", she quickly apologized, before doing a double take. She looked questioningly at them. Wilson and House, walking side by side into work. They must've taken driven together. But why? "Um…" House and Wilson both guessed at her confusion. "I'll explain later." Wilson stated simply. And through the elevators the duo walked.
House made a mental note; keep an eye out on Wilson. House always was, it was just that he had a better motive today. Wilson had promised to tell Cuddy why he had been over at his place. If House wanted to find out, this was the best opportunity.
House barged into his office, such a familiar place. Thirteen jumped a bit, making Foreman give him a disdainful look. Taub looked indifferent to the arrival of his boss, but Kutner just grinned. Kutner was glad House was back. While their boss could be a complete jerk, he was admittedly funny. He had this sense of humor that Kutner admired. Kutner and Wilson saw a side of House that no one else did.
"Alright! No one more vacation. We've got the world to save!" Was House okay? Probably not. Picking up his favorite black dry erase marker, House scribbled barely-legible symptoms. "House, how do you know the symptoms of this patient? You haven't even looked at the files of all your cases", Thirteen remarked. It was true, House hadn't even noticed that there were a few manila envelopes stacked up on his desk.
"Oh, I forgot to tell you. When I died, I saw this light. And this angel came down upon me and said, 'Dude, I hereby grant you psychic powers!'" Thirteen was staring at him, mouth slightly open, in shock. Foreman and Taub just rolled their eyes. Kutner snickered. House suddenly put on his serious face. "Seriously, though."
House whistled while the team read the white board. It was very entertaining to watch each of their facial expressions whenever they were working diagnoses over in their heads. Thirteen would tighten her eyebrows, mouth taught as well. So serious. Foreman would lean back slowly and cross his arms over his chest, absolutely no expression on his face whatsoever. So impassive. Taub would sigh and look like this was not at all the thing he wanted to be doing at that moment. He would frown slightly and lean his chin on his fist. So bored. Kutner would study the words attentively, eyes roaming, sometimes muttering them silently to himself over and over again. So worried.
House chuckled to himself. His new ducklings were so much more entertaining than the last batch. Not that the old ducklings were boring, they just kind of wore off on House. He had found himself predicting every word, every action of theirs, before they even did. At that moment, House glimpsed Wilson moving down the hallway. House pushed himself up on his cane; time to follow the oncologist. Was he going to Cuddy?
"Well, you all know how to find me when you finally wipe those stupid looks off you faces." The ducklings snapped out of their trace, looking at House perplexingly. House just left them there, with even dumber looks on their faces.