"Life and Limb"
Chapter Seven – "One Step Forward, Two Steps Back"
By: Purpleu
"Are you going to write the orders or do you want one of us to do it?" Foreman asked.
"I'll do it," House replied as he took a few steps toward the doors of recovery.
"What are you going to put him on?" inquired Chase. House rolled his eyes.
"A diet high in fats, carbs and sugars; Lipitor and insulin to combat all of that, and while I'm at it, I think I'll do something useful and give him Augmentin."
"I thought you'd put him on Augmentin. Didn't remember if it said on Wilson's chart whether he was allergic to penicillin or not," Chase said holding up his hands.
"It doesn't say that, cause he's not; but it should say that, if he was," said House. "Now, I have a patient…one of several…who need my attention." House headed through the doors and into recovery. It was a very overwhelming room to those who were unfamiliar with the sterile atmosphere in the area. There was a simple nurses' station, a supply closet with linens and such, and a medicine cabinet kept under lock and key. There were only the basics in there; any special meds would have to be called into the pharmacy. The most prominent things in the room were the constant whirs, hisses and beeps of the various machines monitoring the patients. There was little to no conversation. Unlike the I.C.U. at PPTH, which had individual rooms, the space here was wide open; the only privacy was provided by a curtain on clanging hooks which could be pulled around the bed. Other than that, it was a picture of communal healing.
House walked over to Wilson's bedside; he had the space nearest the nurses' station, not by design, but by pure dumb luck that it was available. As much as Wilson had tubes and wires coming from everywhere earlier, now he had even more; an NG, nasal-gastric tube was fed through his nose to his stomach, suctioning constantly to keep it empty. A tube was in Wilson's mouth, and went down to his lungs; it connected him to a respirator. House could see that Wilson wouldn't have to stay on that for long; he was doing a pretty good job breathing on his own. When that came out, the NG tube could go too, probably in a couple of hours when Wilson wakes up. He won't stay awake long, but it will hopefully be long enough to calm down his fan club; especially his number one fan. House looked around recovery; it was fairly empty. There were beds to accommodate twenty people, only eight were occupied. He felt satisfied that Wilson would receive proper attention and care. Resting his hand briefly on Wilson's arm, House made his way over to the nurses' station; he saw that one of the ladies in white was handing him Wilson's chart, contained in a black binder with his name and patient ID number going down the spine. He glanced over his shoulder back at Wilson; there was already an aide by his bedside, placing a blanket on him, making sure his bed tray was ready with cups for ice chips, tissues, and a note pad and pencil in case his throat was too sore from the tube to talk. Maybe it was seeing the good post-op care Wilson was already receiving, or maybe he was just calming down in general, but House actually acknowledged the nurse who handed him Wilson's chart with a quick nod of his head. He opened it up and reviewed the information to make sure it was correct.
"Dr. Wilson will be on standard post-operative care, including Augmentin, Dr. House?" The nurse was looking over at Wilson as she spoke, making sure that the aide had prepped the area so that Wilson and anyone who visited him would be comfortable. House glanced at her and smirked.
"Yeah, he's been a good boy, so prime rib and single malt whiskey will be allowed. Hold the strippers until the tubes are out; he won't be able to cat whistle. Oh, and just a suggestion?"
"Yes?"
"Hide your name tag; one of his ex-wives was named Bonnie. I don't think it would thrill either him or his current main squeeze." Bonnie laughed and reached for the sweater on the chair behind her.
"Good thing I brought this with me today," she said. "It's always too cold in here, but starting in the fall, it gets worse." House had finished writing the orders for Wilson and left the chart on the counter. "Let me just give this a quick look," she said. Bonnie was startled to see that House had printed the orders in capital letters. He placed his signature at the end, as required, but the rest…
"Wanted to make sure there were no mistakes," House said seeing the look on her face. Bonnie smiled and nodded.
"I completely understand," she said. "Oh, Dr. House? We're obviously going to call you or a member of your team if there are any medical issues, but who should we call when Dr. Wilson wakes up? You said something about his girlfriend…are his parents here, too? Or…" House took a deep breath. He knew that the Wilsons and Annie would want to see Wilson right away; so would everyone in the waiting room.
"Don't want to overwhelm him; he won't be able to appreciate the floor show. Just page me and I'll play tour guide for the rest of them."
"I can see you doing that," Bonnie said with a laugh. "Dr. House, I heard that Ms. Strohman got hurt during the shooting. Is she OK?" House looked away from the woman. He hadn't given a thought to Lydia's state of being any time in the last hour or two, and the last time he remembered actually taking note of her appearance, she looked like hell. Wilson's been demagnetized, plugged up, and rebuilt; time to move Fraulein up on the list. House explained to Bonnie how Lydia got burned in the incident at the restaurant, but that she was doing fine.
"Oh…Oh, I don't think I could ever get that image out of my mind…a gun put up to my head?" She shivered at the thought. "That poor woman! She's so nice."
"Yeah, she is," House responded, a gentler tone to his voice.
"I don't mean to pry, but…the two of you…are a couple, aren't you?" House looked down at the floor and nodded. He hoped that would be the truth after all of this was said and done; there were a few people who weren't too happy with him right now. "I know this must have been upsetting for you on several levels," Bonnie said looking over at Wilson. "I'm glad everyone's alright." Once again, House felt more secure about how things were going for Wilson; he was able to answer Bonnie the way a person normally would.
"Thanks." It was just one word, but it spoke volumes for House. He headed to the doors that led to the hall. Before opening them, he took a look back at Wilson. Things were better, but there were still miles to go. Just as House anticipated, he was pounced on when he walked into the waiting room.
"How is he doing?" Annie asked.
"Is he awake?" questioned Claudia Wilson.
"When can we see him?" Henry Wilson inquired. House put his thumb and index finger in the corners of his mouth and let loose a loud, ear piercing whistle.
"I have two ears and one brain," he said loudly. "And as cute and tasty as they are and as talented as my brain is, there is only so much information I can process at once." House turned to Annie. "He's doing fine; I made sure he had the hottest nurse in there tend to his personal needs." Annie squinted her eyes at House. "What? You want him to recover quickly, don't you?" He next looked at Mrs. Wilson. "No, he is not awake, yet." Lastly, he begrudgingly looked at Mr. Wilson. "You can see him when he wakes up, in about an hour and a half to two hours." House turned his attention to where the food was spread out. He saw that fresh items were being brought in by workers from Cherry Valley Deli to supplement the leftovers that were brought down from upstairs. Chase, Foreman and Taub had already started helping themselves to the spread. Lydia came up behind House and put her hand on his arm.
"Do you want some coffee or anything to eat?" she asked.
"No. You know what I want?" Lydia shook her head. House backed her up to one of the cushioned chairs in the lounge. "Sit." Lydia glanced behind her, then looked at House.
"I'm not a dog, you know," she said.
"Yeah, but when you wag your tail, you're just as cute." House and Lydia made eye contact, probably for the first time in the past hour or so. Lydia had to smile; she saw Greg, not House looking back at her, but for how long? She slowly sat down in the chair that House had led her to. "Good puppy," House said patting her head. "What do you want?"
"Just some water and kibble," Lydia said with a straight face.
"No, you don't get it," House said. "You're supposed to make this tough on me: oysters Rockefeller, beef Wellington…not water. Especially not kibble." Lydia started laughing.
"Water and one of those apple Danish over there," Lydia said indicating the treat at the far end of the table.
"That apple Danish? All the way over there? Sure, make a gimp take more steps than he has to," House said sarcastically. Lydia's laughter was infectious, and everyone else in the room began to noticeably relax; seeing House tease Lydia was a pleasant sight. She watched House bring her the Danish and hand it to her with a flourish.
"Um…my water?" Lydia asked, trying not to laugh at the look that came over his face.
"Typical Kraut; I give you one piece, and you want the world," House said shaking his head as he went to retrieve Lydia's beverage.
"Lydia, how do you do that?" Taub asked.
"How do I do what?"
"Make him human," Foreman interjected. "I mean, we've seen it emerging slowly in the past few months, but from what everyone has told us, he was busy being House to nth degree while we were operating on Wilson. Now all of a sudden, he's back to showing hints of…of…"
"Don't say it," Tom said laughing. "Just…don't."
"I'll say it…'Greg,'" Chase said. "You are being nice," he said looking at House. "Well, nice for you." House looked down at the coffee he was making for himself.
"So everyone got their rocks off talking about what a bastard I am?" He gave a quick glance in Lydia's direction.
"I wasn't in the room; I was returning a phone call." Pausing as he was about to take a sip of his drink, he processed what Lydia said. She had called his mother's doctors.
"Do I need to get one of my dark suits dry-cleaned? Press a white shirt and pick out a tie?" House made his way over to Lydia and sat down in the chair next to her.
"Greg, if you want, we can take a walk, and I can tell you about the call…"
"I just got you to put your butt in a seat, and you want to go for a stroll? No. At this point, if I could get Foreman to show me how the PA system worked, I'd tell the whole damn hospital what the odds are that Mumsy's going to make it through the night; that way they could place their bets." House felt all eyes on him. "Why the disapproving stares? I don't have any secrets left that are worth hiding. Except for what I did with the package of condoms I found in Thirteen's locker." The comment was mean, the comment was out of line; but it was quite effective. The attention turned away from House and onto Thirteen very quickly.
"Hey, I have a girlfriend right now," Thirteen said holding up her hands. "He can swear to that," she said pointing at Slick.
"You mean you two aren't..." asked Mrs. Wilson.
"No, they're not snuggle bunnies. Thirteen is ambidextrous. Or something with bi- in it," House said. He turned to Lydia. "I'm really the ambidextrous one, aren't I?" Lydia was ready to return the conversation back to the subject of Blythe House, but the look on her boyfriend's face made all serious conversation impossible for the moment as a very pleasant memory entered her mind. Concentrate on the here and now, Lydia said to herself. She took a deep breath and composed her thoughts.
"Greg, you should call the doctors back. In the past couple of hours, your mom has had a series of TIA's; she was up to three when I spoke to them before. They're adjusting some of her medication to see if they can get them to stop. She hasn't had any more arrhythmia, but her heart rate is slightly slower, and an echocardiogram shows a decrease in her ejection fraction from the last test she had a few months ago. The doctors were still discussing what to do about her heart as of ten, fifteen minutes ago," Lydia said as she looked at the clock on the wall. "They weren't going to wait for you to call; I made them fully aware of the situation here. But, if you want to give them your thoughts on things…" House had clasped his hands together and looked at the floor while Lydia was speaking.
"You wanna know what my thoughts are? The whole thing sucks." House stood up, grabbed his cane, and picked his coffee up from the table in front of him. He looked over at Slick. "Feel like taking a walk?" Slick looked startled, but then realized what House was getting at.
"Yeah, yeah…sure." Slick let House lead the way out of the room, but saw Lydia looking at the two curiously. Slick reached up and gave two quick taps to the pack of cigarettes he had in his shirt pocket. Lydia put her head down into her hands.
"Sweetie, what's the matter?" Annie asked coming over to her.
"It's nothing…nothing important, let's put it that way," Lydia said wearily.
"I know what's happening; Slick clued me in before," Thirteen said. "House is bumming a cigarette from him."
"I hope it's only one," Lydia said.
"Had he quit and then gone back?" Claudia Wilson asked. Lydia glanced quickly at Annie.
"She knows our whole story," Annie said.
"Yes, she told us what a brute her brother was," Henry Wilson said. "I don't know how…or why for that matter…you stayed with him."
"The hows and whys can be very complicated," Lydia noted. Either the Wilsons didn't understand her personal history, or didn't want to. "The fact is, my ex-husband smoked, and every time I smell it, it reminds me of him. Slick smokes very little when he's around me, and always goes outside when he does. Maybe I'm just overly sensitive, but when Greg smokes…I smell it on him, his clothes, his breath. He's only had a cigarette since we've been back together, one or two times; usually when a case is going badly."
"And then, after James and Greg asked each of us to move in with them, the four of us made dinner together at the house, and the boys got champagne, chocolate-dipped strawberries, and cigars for themselves to celebrate," said Annie with a smile.
"It makes me feel so good to know that James has such lovely people close to him," Mrs. Wilson said. "Even if, for the life of me, I can't figure out Greg."
"Don't feel too bad Mrs. Wilson," Chase said. "I've known him only a few years less than Wilson has; I can't make heads or tails of the way he thinks sometimes."
"It's really not difficult to understand the basic thing about Greg: he can't stand authority and will attempt to break the rules, just because he can. But if there's a reason, like a patient needs some…procedure done, or a medication that's not normally used for the particular ailment…he will stomp all over the rules to help the patient live. But he doesn't care about patients…he only cares about results and the truth."
"But he'll lie to find out what the truth is," Taub noted.
"Oy! I'd go crazy trying to keep all the ins and outs of his way of thinking straight," Claudia exclaimed.
"He keeps you on your toes, that's for sure," Lydia said.
"Do you want to head outside and see what he's up to? Maybe you can stop him before he smokes too many," Annie suggested.
"No," Lydia said shaking her head. "It might do him some good to vent to someone else; let him get this…and maybe the cigarettes…out of his system…"
"I didn't know you smoked lights," House said taking a heavy drag on his cigarette. "I pictured you to be a Camel smoker."
"You just missed the pack of Dunhill cigs that I had last week," Slick said with a laugh. "Those I like, but they're hard to find unless you go into Manhattan."
"When did you visit the Big, Worm-Eaten Apple?"
"Last week on Monday," Slick said lighting his smoke. "I bought two packs, tried to intersperse them with my regulars, but the difference was so obvious, they were gone in no time."
"Red pack or blue?"
"Red. I've got mainly Irish blood in me, but damn I love those English cigarettes."
"If you head in there again, let me know; I'll have you pick me up a pack," House said flicking his ashes. Slick was puzzled.
"Thought you said you don't really smoke, because Lydia doesn't like it." House nodded as he took a drag.
"She doesn't and I usually don't. But the next time my best friend gets shot, my girlfriend has a gun put to her head, her best friend gets terrorized, I have a patient whose leg looks like a flat tire, my mother's in the I.C.U. a couple of hundred miles away and I have to decide the future fate of my leg…" House looked at Slick. "…I want to be prepared."
"I'm going into the city a lot sooner than the next time you need the smokes, but I'll be sure to let you know." Slicked looked over to House; his eyes were closed, his shoulders were slumped over. "Sorry about your mom." House studied the cigarette in his hand; it wasn't even half-way finished and he knew he was going to need another.
"The problem I have right now," House began. "Is I know I'm supposed to care about what's going on with my mother. Everyone thinks I should care about what's going on with my mother and will be royally pissed if I don't show some outward display of concern. And while all of this is going on, I'm sitting back alternating between wishing she would kick off and get out of my life once and for all…and hoping I can get to her in time to ask why? Was it that important to keep the illusion of the perfect wife going that you let your own kid be crapped on every time I turned around?" House took a hard pull at his cigarette and dropped his head. Slick knew the whole story of House and his family. He, House, Wilson and Tom got together to play poker occasionally, and one night after more than a few drinks, House started talking. It was unbelievable to Slick at first that House was a victim of that kind of abuse; but later on, it was even more shocking to have Wilson confirm it. Slick chose his words to House very carefully.
"If I were you…I'd want her to stick around long enough to get some answers out of her. You deserve them; maybe…she deserves the chance to tell you. Either way, I'd want to talk to her, whether I liked what I heard or not. At least you'd have answers." Slick took a long hit on his cigarette. He hadn't looked at House when he spoke; didn't want to make him feel self-conscious. By the same token, House didn't acknowledge Slick; he just stared off in the distance, with his elbows leaning on the edge of the wall that lined the elevated walkway. The view was nothing more than the employee parking lot; for House, it was the exact amount of nothingness he needed right now. "Hey," Slick said. "Don't mean to be a noodge, but shouldn't you call your mom's doctors?" House sighed.
"I should," He straightened up, took out his phone and went through his directory for the saved numbers. "Problem is, so many things are using up their warranty right now, I'm not sure which help desk to call." Slick took out his phone.
"I've got to check and see if a few of my text messages were returned, and if they were, I'm going to have to either text or call them back. I'll move over this way a little to give you some privacy," Slick said as he moved over to his left. He had kept his phone on silent while he and House were talking, so he had no idea whether there were any calls or not. But just as he suspected there was a text from Lydia. Slick glanced quickly to his right and saw House talking away, a few intense gestures here and there. He quickly sent a text to Lydia…
"Well, Greg's at least called his mother's doctors; he's on the phone with them right now," Lydia said as she read the message from Slick. "He said Greg's only had one cigarette so far, but he can tell he's going to want another."
"Maybe you could interrupt that," Mrs. Wilson said. "You could just stroll outside to get some fresh air and bring Greg a fresh cup of coffee," she said innocently. "If…Slick? Is that his name?" Lydia nodded. "If he could time it right, send you a one word text, maybe…" Claudia Wilson seemed startled by the looks she was getting. Henry Wilson had gone to pace outside the recovery room doors; she checked to see that he was out of earshot. "Look, I haven't stayed married for fifty-four years without a few tricks up my sleeve. Modern technology has just made it easier." Everyone in the room started cracking up at Mrs. Wilson's no-nonsense, to-the-point way to handle domestic bliss.
"Oh, that is good, that is really good," Foreman said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "You know your son wouldn't approve."
"That's because it would remind him of Greg too much," Lydia said laughing. Even more laughter came, to the point that Mr. Wilson re-entered the room.
"What's so funny?" he asked looking quite befuddled. He saw that the laughter was so genuine, that in a few seconds, even he had a smile on his face.
"We were just talking about the modern way of life and useful ways to use the new advancements science has given us," Claudia said with a smile. She patted the seat of the chair next to her. "Come on, Henry, sit down. It's going to be a long night." Henry Wilson reluctantly sat down next to his wife, who saw that Lydia was sending a text message…
"Damn! Mother…" House let loose with a blue streak of curses.
"Whoa!" said Slick as he quickly replied to Lydia's text. "What happened?" House dropped his cigarette butt on the ground.
"All I need is for her to keep kicking for a few more days, and they don't even know if she can do that. She's getting a double whammy of her heart and vascular system slowly crapping out at the same time." Slick looked away for a moment to the door that would lead to the elevated pathway he and House were on. Come on Lydia, hurry up, he thought.
"Hate to ask, but have they given you an idea of how long?"
"Could be hours, could be weeks. On top of it all, they want someone up here to talk to good old Reverend Bell. Seems he's been having anxiety attacks and with the last one, he had trouble breathing. Probably just all of the stress that's going on; not that I can't relate." Slick felt the stress he was experiencing leave his body as the door to his right opened and Lydia stepped out onto the walkway.
"Hi, how are you two doing?" she asked as she walked over to House.
"Oh, I'm just hunky-dory," House replied sarcastically. He looked over and saw the cup of coffee Lydia was holding.
"I thought either you'd finished the cup you brought out with you, or it was cold," Lydia said as she offered the drink.
"Yeah, and the Boy Scout over there," House said indicating Slick, "Texted you that I snagged a cigarette from him." House reached over and took the coffee from Lydia.
"I think I'm going to head back inside; that coffee smells good and I need something to keep me awake," said Slick as began his hasty exit, and started to walk to the door. "I worked an overnight and had some things to take care of after that. Then I got the call from Thirteen. I haven't slept in over twenty-four hours."
"Slick! You should go home and get some rest. Everything is settling down here," Lydia said. Slick looked at her and smiled.
"Yes, Mother Hen," he replied in a teasing tone. "I'll get some sleep after I know that Wilson's awake and you guys have spoken to him." He gave House a quick tap on the shoulder as he passed by him to go inside.
"Can I grab one more from you for later?" House called over his shoulder as Slick reached the door. Lydia looked over at Slick and saw he was torn between helping House out and doing what she would prefer.
"Let him have it," Lydia said shrugging her shoulders. "It might delay him buying a whole pack." Slick walked back over, handed House a cigarette and his lighter.
"Keep it," Slick said indicating the lighter. "I always carry a spare." He glanced at Lydia and quickly headed to the door.
"You know, Slick didn't have to tell me anything," Lydia said moving closer to House. "He's the only smoker in the room and you suddenly want him to join you for a walk. Besides, even a fish wouldn't get caught if it kept its mouth shut." House took a sip of his coffee.
"So when does the lecture start?" he asked, knowing Lydia's strong dislike for smoking.
"There's no lecture. Did I lecture you the other two times you indulged when you were having a rough time with a case?"
"The fact that you can remember the exact number of times I've engaged in the demonic pleasure is a good indication to me that you'd love to ream me out about it." Lydia smiled and draped her arm over House's hunched shoulders.
"I just happen to think that people who smoke aren't creative enough to think of something better to do with their mouths." Lydia leaned her head against House's. "And I know that doesn't apply to you." Despite his lousy mood, House managed a slight smile.
"You got a few seconds of happy out of me just now. As usual." House tapped the lighter Slick gave him on the wall's edge. "I called my mother's doctors, as you probably know." He walked a few steps away from Lydia, stumbling as he did.
"Greg!" Lydia quickly came beside him. "Why don't you just sit down and rest for a little? You don't have to be on your feet to talk."
"If your implying that I'm less than perfect because I donated the plasma…" House stumble once again; luckily, Lydia was there to help him. "…you just may be right." He sat down on the nearest bench. Lydia retrieved his coffee cup which he left on the wall. "Thanks." House told Lydia how they seemed to have the TIA's under control…for now. Ideally, a catheterization should be done to see where any blockages are in her heart, or if it is the heart muscle itself failing.
"They're not giving any kind of realistic time frame of when she could bite the big one; they can't. And on top of it all, Bell is freaking out, having attacks and trouble breathing." Lydia looked at House with concern.
"I'm hoping you mean anxiety attacks." House nodded. "Even so…that poor man. He's down there all alone. Did you call him?" House gave her a look.
"I didn't think 'Hi, person who may or may not be my dad; how are you feeling as you watch my mom die?' would be very well received." Lydia rolled her eyes in exasperation. She was a very patient person, but even she was nearing her breaking point.
"I talked to Reverend Bell right before I got out of my car and headed to the restaurant. We got on just fine. Why don't I call him and put him on speaker phone; that way he can hear the both of us. He has no idea what's happened here, and since it's delaying your going down there…"
"Among other things," House replied.
"What else is there?"
"Your patient, who is actually mine, but I'm letting you have a crack at him," House said fingering the cigarette Slick gave him. "I'm not leaving till I know that this case is on its way to a resolution."
"Why not? You've walked away from cases before. It's what you have a team for. You can stay in contact with them over the phone," Lydia said. "You're using the case as an excuse to not go see your mother."
"Quite the contrary; I'm not. I'm actually hoping she hangs in there until I can talk to her one last time and get some answers," House said thinking about his conversation with Slick. "Make the call," he said indicating Lydia's phone. "Maybe if we can keep Billy Graham Lite calm, he'll rub off on my mother." Lydia reluctantly dialed the number. She wanted to talk more to House about his putting off a very necessary trip to Virginia; it would have to wait until later.
"Hello? Lydia, is that you, dear?" Reverend Bell said as he answered his phone.
"Yes, Reverend Bell, and Greg is here with me, too."
"Oh, thank God! The doctors were talking outside of Blythe's room. She may have a lot going on with her, but her hearing and mind are still sharp. We heard that you wouldn't be coming down because you people were hurt in a shooting."
"Which is why they should learn to use their inside voices," House said.
"Oh, Greg, it is so good to hear your voice! I'm in the room with your mother…let me put this on speaker so she can hear you." Lydia saw House squirm uncomfortably as he heard the sounds of Bell handling the phone and changing it to speaker. "There we go. Blythe, darling, he's OK. Here, you can hear him." House swallowed hard and started to talk.
"Hi, Mom; giving the doctors down there a hard time, just like my patients do to me?" He heard labored breathing.
"Greg," Blythe House said weakly and with a slight slur. "I was…so afraid you were hurt."
"No, Mom, I'm OK; Wilson got badly hurt, though." There was a pause. "He lost a lot of blood and he had to have an artificial hip put in."
"He's…he's a young man. He'll be good, especially…if you're taking care of him." It pained House to hear his mother's voice like this, struggling to get words out. The one thing that was hopeful, was that her mind seemed to be all there; but House knew that could be a false hope.
"What in the world happened, lad?" Bell asked.
"It'd be better if Lydia told the story," House said looking at her. He didn't really want to put the burden on her, knowing how weepy she would get; but she was there for the whole sad series of events and would be a better storyteller.
"Lydia?" Blythe asked. "Who is she?"
"I wanted Greg to tell you, lovey; it should come from him," Reverend Bell said. House closed his eyes; he wasn't ashamed or embarrassed to tell his mother about Lydia. It's just that he felt like he was thirteen and his first crush had been discovered.
"Lydia is my girlfriend, Mom…Mom?"
"I thought…you were going to say…wife." Lydia started to laugh, while House stared at the phone in disbelief.
"Mrs. House, this is Lydia, Lydia Strohman," she said introducing herself as she continued to chuckle. "You were there for the miracle of Greg's birth, I wouldn't dream of denying you the miracle of him getting married." The laughter from Bell could be heard loud and clear through the phone.
"You just put the biggest smile on my dear Blythe's face…as much as she can smile, of course."
"She obviously knows her son," Lydia said. House put his left arm on his knee and rested his hand in his upturned palm as he looked at Lydia with amazement. She had the ability to talk to anyone, anywhere, and make them feel completely comfortable. He dreaded calling Bell: he knew the reverend would drag his mother into the conversation, and House wasn't sure he could handle it. Listening to Lydia, you would think she was talking to two old friends and just catching them up on things. She certainly had her father's innate diplomatic ability. Lydia related the story of the shooting with only a few tears; she also left out the less than wonderful parts about House's behavior. She did make sure to tell them about his donating plasma to Wilson, though. When she had finished, Lydia had brought Mrs. House and Reverend Bell completely up to date on the events of the night.
"That must have been a terrible ordeal for you, you dear thing. It's wonderful how you were able to help save Greg's friend's life," Bell said.
"Where did you and…Greg meet?" Blythe asked, still speaking slowly; she was trying to make sure she was understood despite slurring her words. Lydia, not knowing what House told his mother, quickly mouthed the words 'Does your mother know about Mayfield?' to House, who shook his head.
"Annie is not just James' girlfriend; she's my best friend. After she was attacked by some robbers who had broken into her apartment, she fell into a catatonic state. She eventually was placed in a facility for people with psychological problems…"
"Mayf…field." House's mouth fell open when his mother named the facility where he had spent months detoxing and trying to repair his damaged psyche.
"You knew. You knew I was locked in that hell hole, but you never even tried to call?" House said spitting his words out with venom.
"No…no," House and Lydia could hear Blythe's voice trail off.
"Greg, she tried to call you," Bell said. "She said that some doctor…"
"Nolan," House and Lydia said together with equal disgust.
"Ye…yes. He said it would…be better if we did…didn't talk. Said part of the…problem was your childhood."
"He said WHAT?" Lydia shouted. "Forgive me, but he had no right to discuss any aspect of Greg's case with you."
"I don't blame him if he did hate me." It was the strongest thing Blythe had managed to say all evening. "How you…met doesn't…matter. I'm…very glad you did." The sound of alarms going off on the machines monitoring Blythe House could be heard in the background.
"What the hell is happening?" House asked grabbing the phone out of Lydia's hand.
"Lovey, please, please calm down. Your machines are talking to you; they're saying you're wasting electricity. The hospital's utility bill will be enormous if you don't stop making them go off."
"She's not an idiot; she doesn't need patronizing talk like that from you. What alarms are going…" The alarms fell silent. House heard the sound of the machines coming through the phone.
"They've stopped," Bell said. "Her heart rate and blood pressure went up high enough to make these blasted things sing." House rolled his eyes at the reverend's overly colorful description of the monitors' warning system. "Eh? Oh, no, she's fine. She got a little overwrought while talking to her son. Of course, just tell me when." House couldn't hear who Bell was talking to, but he wanted to speak to his mother again. "Greg, in a few minutes, they want me to step out while they empty her catheter, take a urine sample and do a few other things. It seems the last time they emptied the bag it was a bit foggy."
"Do me a favor: put the phone back near my mother so she can hear me," House said.
"Blythe? Blythe, darling?" House heard Reverend Bell say. "I'm going to have to step out in a minute so they can attend to a few of your needs. Greg wants to talk to you before I leave. Here she is, lad."
"Mom? I…I want to talk to you about a lot of things. I need to have answers…" House began. "But Wilson is still in recovery and I have a patient, young guy going to be a father. If I can't figure out what's wrong with him, he won't just lose a leg, he'll lose his life."
"I know…you need …answers. I know you do. I'm going to give…it my all…to hang on until you…can get here. You take care of…Wilson and that…young father. They'll…they'll be alright. You're a brilliant…doctor. I've always…been so…proud of you." House's eyes stared to water. Why couldn't he have heard this years ago? "You know…before you met…Wilson…I worried about you…so much." Blythe could be heard taking a deep breath so she could force her words out. "But…after I saw…the kind of…friends you two were…I knew you would be OK." House dropped his head down as he fought back tears. Was his mother really feeling this emotional about him? Or, to paraphrase comedian Bill Cosby, was he listening to an old person trying to get into heaven? House shook his head; the Norse gods' Valhalla held more meaning for him than either of the H-words. "They're here…to take…care of me. Greg…I love you." House took several deep breaths, then looked over at Lydia. Her face held no reaction; she was a good poker player and was leaving this for House to decide what to say.
"I love you, too, Mom." House wondered if he said the right thing the minute he got the words out, but the look that came over Lydia's face told him it was all good.
"Greg, don't end the call yet; I need to talk to you for just a minute," Bell said. House heard him telling his mother that he would be right back in. Lydia had come over to House and put her arm around him; it was good since he felt he was going to need the physical as well as the emotional support. "I'm back, son."
"Don't use that word with me, will you?" House asked. "Son? That's not an established fact and I doubt it will ever be. I don't see what good it would do either of us. At my age, it's a little late to start going to ballgames and 'puttering around' together."
"It doesn't mean we can't try and be friends." Bell's words hung in the air over House.
"Yeah, sure, drinking buddies, great. You play poker? 'Cause Lydia's got two kids that'll steal the Goldfish crackers right out from under your nose." House reached for his coffee; it had cooled off significantly, but he didn't care.
"Greg, I…told your mother what you said to me…all those things about the past. She knows…she knows she doesn't have long…she finally opened up to me about so very many things…I can't even begin to tell you," Reverend Bell said, his voice cracking. "When you get down here, she has so much she needs to say. The pain she has kept buried…"
"Yeah, well, funny thing: my pain isn't buried. It's right there, out in the open for all to see. And I'm not just talking about my leg." House pushed himself up from the bench and began to pace around. He wobbled several times, to the point that Lydia jumped up and tried to stay near him. "You think because you were the one who had to help me put a bike together, when Marine John couldn't be bothered, that it's an example of his abuse? Is that what you're going to tell me? Or the times that you played catch with me when he refused to, because he had to go meet the 'boys' at the officers club? Then he pointed out to me that they were more important to him than I was? That's nothing! That's not even neglect! You have no idea what I've been through!" Despite the cool autumn evening, Lydia could see beads of sweat forming on House's brow and running down the side of his face.
"Greg, please sit down, you're going to make yourself sick," Lydia said quietly. She rested her hand on his arm, but he quickly pulled it away.
"Lad, I do know, I do know what you've been through. Blythe has confessed; she's told me everything…"
"Confessed? One of your business catch words, or don't they say things like that in your little black book?" He grabbed his cup of coffee off the bench, and took a large gulp. It caught in his throat, and he began to cough, hard. He was still near enough to the bench that Lydia was able to guide House to it and sat him down.
"Lydia, is Greg OK?" Bell asked.
"He's fine; coffee went down the wrong way," Lydia said with a false cheerfulness. In fact, Lydia was becoming concerned with House's appearance; besides sweating, she saw his hands shaking, and breathing becoming more labored. Plus he was white as a ghost.
"Greg, you weren't the only victim in all of this. He went after your mother, my poor lovey, too. You don't know…you don't know the stories she told me," Bell said his voice cracking.
"And that's all they probably were…stories. But she's had you by the gonads for years, so you'll believe anything she tells you," House replied. He was using his hands to push the sweat out of his eyes. Lydia pulled a napkin out of her pocket and handed it to him. He took it from her, stood up, and wiped his face as he began to walk again. "If you know all these horror stories, why don't you tell me? I don't need to be there; I have no problem hearing it over the phone. You're sure as hell not going to hold my hand as you tell me all of this icky stuff." House stumbled several times again, the last time, bouncing off the wall.
"Greg!" Lydia exclaimed. He didn't even acknowledge her; he just turned his back to her and kept pacing.
"I think she should be the one to tell you, Greg, not me."
"At the rate she's going, her vocal chords may be permanently paralyzed by the time I get there. Especially if the man in her life keeps wilting like flowers in a dry spell." House leaned against the wall, looked at Lydia briefly and turned away again; he couldn't deal with the look in her eyes right now.
"I'll tell you some things now if you want, but I think you'd better sit down."
"Oh, this ought to be good," House said to Lydia, giving her a look. He went back to the bench and with dramatic flair, sat down. "OK, lay some stuff on me." House and Lydia heard Bell clear his throat; then before he even spoke, they could hear his tears.
"John House…tried to kill you before you were even born. Blythe hid her pregnancy as long as she could, but…she finally had to tell him. He flew into a rage, an absolute rage! He knew the child she was carrying wasn't his. He threw her…down the back steps, and tried to make her miscarry by kicking her repeatedly, over and over. He was a mad man; he wouldn't stop. Your mother...was so brave. She curled up in a ball to protect her belly, and he finally stopped when some neighbors who heard the commotion called out to her. He went back into the house, put his uniform on…and left her there to go to a meeting. She crawled back in…" Bell stopped for a moment as his tears got the better of him. "…and when he came home, he acted like nothing had ever happened."
"Oh my…" Lydia had tears streaming down her face. She felt the pain of the incident Reverend Bell had relayed to them; as a mother and as an abused wife. She looked at House, she saw the confusion, the hurt, the disbelief. She didn't know what to say. "Oh my God, Greg…"
"Then, then there was the time you dropped the cookie jar," Bell said through his tears. "She sent you to your room…not as punishment…"
"She told me to get under my bed and hide. Not to come out until she came for me," House said quietly, as if in a trance.
"That's right. She tried…she tried so hard to get it cleaned up before he came home…but she was in the middle of it…he didn't go to find you. The bastard took it all out on her. My lovey…"
"When she came to get me out from under the bed, she had changed what she was wearing, probably to hide any blood…" House suddenly had one of his epiphanies; but not with usual pleasant results. "That's why she always wore long sleeves and only wore pants, when most women back then usually wore skirts," House said. "She told me it was because she was always cold." He shook his head as he tried to get the image out of his head. "She did it to hide the bruises."
"She tried to protect you, so very many times. Blythe took on all she could from that monster. She was willing to risk her own life to save yours on more than one occasion." House was feeling sick and kept taking sips of coffee to push it down; he knew it was a bad idea, but that was all he could do at the moment. "There weren't shelters around back then, like there are now. No hotlines to call. She had no relatives to run to; no friends except me. He wouldn't let her make any. Depending on where they lived, I was nothing more than a pen pal. And she never told me about the beatings; she told me she had bad equilibrium and fell a lot. The bruises she said were from a vitamin deficiency."
"So John House was beating her even before she became pregnant?" Lydia asked.
"Yes. Their marriage was an arranged match. John had another woman he was in love with and wanted to marry. But his family stopped him; he was the grandson and son of well-known Marine officers. Blythe's grandfather and father held the same positions. The two families decided these two had to get together and produce the next generation of proud Marines," Bell explained.
"Yeah and it was after they were married that John found out he couldn't pro-create because he had mumps when he was twenty," House added in. "it made him sterile. That's how he knew I wasn't his kid."
"Boy, there is so…very much more that your mother wants to tell you and…even if she's not in any shape to talk when you can see fit to come…she begged me to please make sure that I told you. She loves you very, very much, Greg."
"Y…yeah; she told me that." House's mind was a blur as a new/old thought now entered his head: that Reverend Thomas Bell could be his father. He certainly assumed that role whenever John wasn't around, and yet, at the time, he couldn't even know that it was a possibility. Was it gut instinct? House's mother had given him false information about the due date… House shook his head; there was too much going on to properly consider it all. House suddenly heard some commotion come through over the phone.
"Lad, they've finished with your mother; I want to go back in. The nurse just told me they think she has a UTI, and they're testing her pee now."
"Great. Something else to worry about. Look," House said as he stood up. "I'll be down there as soon as I can. It'll be a few days. Do…do whatever you have to so she keeps going. Not having anxiety attacks would be step one."
"I know. I feel much better now that you've spoken to her…and me," Reverend Bell said. "I'll keep you up-to-date on things. And I'll keep you and your lovely lady and your friends in my prayers. Good-bye, Lydia, Good-bye, Greg."
"Good-bye Reverend Bell," Lydia said, leaning into House to make sure she was heard.
"Bye," was House's simple sign-off. He handed the phone to Lydia and lurched toward the trash barrel a few feet away. He leaned over and Lydia could hear that he was vomiting violently. Luckily, she still had some napkins in her pocket. In a few minutes, she saw House straighten up; without being invasive, Lydia held out the napkins to him. He glanced to his right and took them; he wiped his mouth with one and the sweat off his face with the other. He made his way back to the bench and sat down again. The combination of the havoc that donating the plasma took on his body, along with the emotional sucker punch he had just taken, was extracting a toll on House.
"Do you want some water?" Lydia said, offering the bottle he had given her earlier. House nodded and took several large swigs from the bottle. "Greg, easy; you'll wind up making yourself sick again."
"Again? Try still," House replied. He stared off in front of him, not saying a word for several minutes. Lydia stayed next to House, gently rubbing his back. She didn't even know if he was aware that she was there, or what she was doing.
"For years, I wasn't sure how to feel about my mother," House said. "I thought she was a selfish bitch, just popped me out because she was expected to, and didn't really give a rat's ass about me; except on those occasions when society decided that she should play the parental part. That bastard beat her, punished her for existing, just like he did me. I thought I was the only one hurting…" Lydia reached over and ran her hand down House's face; she brought her fingers under his chin and turned his face to her.
"How could you have known about any of it? She hid it from the person closest to her, Reverend Bell. Your mother did what she thought was necessary to protect the two of you. Face it, if Bell tried to interfere, John probably would have gone after him. Blythe did it out of love."
"And I've spent how many years cursing her out? Going on like I did in front of Wilson's parents before?" House stood, hobbled over to the wall, and grabbed the cigarette and lighter off the top of it. He lit the smoke and took a drag. "I've been telling everyone…you, Wilson, Annie…anyone who would listen, how I'm the way I am because of her and how she wouldn't do anything to stop John House," House's voice was getting louder and more intense. "Now I find out that I'm lucky to be alive…and I owe it to her?" House kicked the trash can he had used before. The violent action threw him off balance, and brought him to his knees. "And the man…" House said gasping in pain, "…I thought was a moral degenerate for sleeping with my mother, a married woman, not only is probably my father, but he was the only stability my mother ever knew!" As much as Lydia hated the smell of cigarettes, she forced herself over to the trash barrel where House was now sitting on the ground. House's cigarette had rolled away from him when he fell. Lydia spotted it and picked it up.
"Do you still want this?" she asked holding it out to him.
"No," House said quietly. Lydia laid it on the ground and stepped on it with the side of her shoe.
"So, Reverend Bell was a moral degenerate for sleeping with a married woman, but it was OK when you slept with me," Lydia said gently rubbing his shoulder. House shot a glance in her direction.
"It was different with the two of us; you were in a miserable situation…"
"Just like your mother," Lydia countered.
"Yeah, but Bell had no idea how bad things really were; she hid it from him."
"And I didn't tell just how bad things were with me until I moved back here." House turned to Lydia.
"Whose side are you on?" House asked.
"I'm not on anyone's side," Lydia said. "I'm stating the facts. And the facts are, you slept with a married woman, just like Reverend Bell did."
"I've slept with more than one," House said under his breath. Lydia knew about the time he slept with Stacy when she came back to PPTH looking for help for her husband Mark. She didn't want to think about or know if there were any others. "You never told me how bad things were, but I could tell. When I just held your hand, it made you sigh. There were plenty of signs."
"And I'm sure the good Reverend saw signs in your mother, too. I know you don't want to think of your mother like that, but she's a warm-blooded woman…"
"For now," House interrupted. "Actually, it makes her all the more human in my eyes. You always want to be like that with the person you love." He looked at Lydia for a moment, but then more somber thoughts entered his head. "I can't get out of my mind the picture of her on the ground with that ego-inflated bastard standing above her, kicking her to make her miscarry. I can think of more subtle ways to accomplish the same thing. He could have used a slow release poison; she would have died while he was away on tour, nobody would have suspected a thing."
"I'm going to have to remind myself to check my glass of iced tea when you pour it for me from now on," Lydia said, standing up and retrieving House's cane.
"I'd never do that to you," House said as he looked up at Lydia. He took his cane and leaned on it to help him stand up. "I just told you about that method and you're already on alert. I'll have to come up with something else." He took a few steps to test himself; he looked over and expected to see Lydia smiling or giving him a dirty look, but he saw neither; there were tears in her eyes. "Hey, you know I'm joking."
"I know." She put her arms around House, and despite the cigarette smell that lingered on him, gave him a kiss. "I'm just so happy that you've broken the ice with you mother, and she's willing to talk. I wish you would go down there as soon as Wilson is awake and let your team handle Kevin Sheeler's case." House shook his head.
"I already have too many mice running around on the play wheel in my head. I won't be able to deal with my mother while Wilson and the other case are on my mind."
"And how are you going to handle Wilson's care and figure out the other case if you don't get the issues going on down in Virginia out of your head?" Lydia countered.
"As usual, I'm damned if I do, and damned if I don't." He tossed his coffee cup into the trash receptacle, leaned against the wall, and stared out over the parking lot in silence. "I'm heading inside," House said after a few minutes. He pushed off the wall and started to go toward the door. Lydia stood still as tears rolled down her cheeks; they were tears of frustration, that she couldn't do more to help House. If only there was something….
"Hey, Fraulein!" Lydia quickly brushed the tears away and turned to House. "Wilson's waking up!"