Life and Limb
Chapter Thirteen – "That's Life"
By: purpleu
There was only the sound of the monitors humming, filling the air as they waited to be reattached to Wilson. The shock slowly registered on each person's face as they came over and looked at the x-ray House was still holding up. Lydia had moved out of the way to allow others to get access to the film, but Annie was still standing between the wall and Wilson in the Geri-chair. She was upset and confused.
"You…you can tell it's cancer just by looking at it? Don't you need a biopsy to prove that? Maybe it's a benign growth," she said clutching at straws.
"Not…very likely," Wilson said, staring at the film. "The position is classic for thymoma; right in front of the heart. It appears to be small enough to call it stage one; which means it just might be encapsulated. That would be good, all things considered. This is what oncologists jokingly…morbidly…call 'puppy cancer.' It's…still cancer, don't get me wrong, but if it's stage one, as this appears to be…it is very, very treatable. Some patients don't even need chemo at this level, but…I would take some just to be sure," Wilson said as he reached over for Annie's hand. She could see how hard Wilson was trying to stay strong for her, his parents, and most especially right now, House who looked like hell. Wilson knew he'd have to do a lot of explaining to Annie and his parents about the situation; the problem was House knew what was going on all too well. Mr. and Mrs. Wilson just kept shaking their heads back and forth; they had been in their son's hospital room to share in the joy of Wilson taking his first steps on his new hip. They were now sharing the disbelief that everyone in the room was experiencing.
"You can tell all that…just from looking at an x-ray?" Claudia Wilson asked.
"No, he's looking for extra pity," House said dryly. "Like he hasn't gotten enough already." Lydia glanced over at House; his voice sounded funny as he made that last wisecrack. As she took a better look at him, Lydia could see he was sweating and his breathing appeared to be labored. The room certainly wasn't warm, even with all the people in it. She made eye contact with Slick who read her mind; he too noticed the change in House.
"I think you've done enough staring at this for now," Slick said to Wilson. "I would guess the next step is a biopsy?" Slick took the manila envelope and the x-ray film from House who offered no resistance.
"No, I think we'll go right for a High Res CT and move into the OR." Wilson looked up at the saline bag hanging on his IV pole. "I have one more bag to go after this from the MRI. I think my kidneys will be squeaky clean enough by then to do the HRCT." Lydia saw that House wasn't reacting well to all of this; it was happening so quickly. Usually, House would be the one to want to get things done quickly, but this was Wilson, this was cancer. She moved over near House.
"Greg, have a seat," she said leading him to a chair near Wilson.
"I don't need to sit," he said pulling his arm away from her hand.
"House, you're sweating and your breathing's off…take a seat," Thirteen insisted. Lydia went into the bathroom and grabbed some dampened paper towels. He reluctantly sat down, giving in to the feeling in his leg.
"Here, wipe off your face and neck," Lydia said. She'd do it herself, but that wouldn't sit well with him.
"I don't need them and I don't need a drink of water," he said noting what Thirteen was doing. "Just leave me alone." All knew it would be best to give House his space; the last thing he wanted was to look weak and vulnerable.
"Did…did you say that you're going to go back into the operating room?" Mrs. Wilson said sounding horrified.
"There's no other way to remove the tumor," Foreman noted.
"I'll do the HRCT," House said continuing with his labored breathing.
"House…no," Wilson said taking a deep breath. "You're…too close to the patient in this matter. You make the smallest percentage of mistakes I've ever seen…as a doctor; but in this case, I don't think anyone, least of all me…would be happy with an improperly done procedure. I've got good people working for me, just like you have the best working for you." Wilson saw that certain look in House's eyes; he was going to try and get into radiology and do the test himself. Wilson had to something to take House out of the game.
"At the very least, I'm going to observe," House noted. "If you don't trust me to do the test…"
"Fine…fine. By the way, what was that crack you said before about pity?" House turned to look at Wilson.
"Nothing; I was just trying to get your mother to put a cork in it," House said looking at the floor.
"Now look here: I've had about enough…" Mr. Wilson began to say.
"Dad!" Wilson called out. He gave House a hard look. "'Like he hasn't gotten enough already.' That's what you said."
"Sounds like something I would say…" House was struggling to get the room to stop spinning.
"The thing with all of this," Wilson said indicating himself and his bed. "Is that everyone is saying 'Poor Wilson. Look, he has to learn to walk again. Now he's got cancer!'" Wilson shook his head. "And where does that leave House? Nobody's giving you any pity. I'm taking it all away from you." Annie was wide-eyed. She had to keep reminding herself that James was speaking unfiltered; normally, he might come out with something to bust House's chops. He would edit himself; but this was nasty.
"Pity? You think I want pity? Where the hell have you been for the past fifteen plus years? I hate pity. I fight not to show any pain while I'm walking down the hall; meanwhile, inside I'm sometimes screaming because it hurts so much. I do it just to avoid getting those inane pitiful looks. I act like a jerk every day, even more so on bad days, because I'd rather be hated and feared than pitied." Lydia didn't care whether House got mad at her or not. She took one of the lightly dampened towels she had been holding and moved to him from his right; he was leaning to his left to confront Wilson.
"Oh, yes…the…the brave and mighty Gregory House…fights the windmills and loves the lady he doesn't deserve," Wilson said looking at Lydia. She wanted to yell at him because she almost got the paper towel on to House's neck; now he was aware she was there.
"Get away from me with that!" House barked at Lydia. "I said to leave me alone!"
"That's right; push her away like you did to Stacy when you needed her the most. It's only taken you…months this time. House…you'll never change. Then again, that…that suits you just fine." House stared at Wilson, his breath still coming out labored, and he was now dripping with sweat. His was trying to figure out where this was coming from. Wasn't it just three nights ago they sat in Gino's pizzeria and Wilson told him how glad he was that House had Lydia? That he encouraged him to work at the relationship? If this was how Wilson really felt, how many of the chummy, brotherly things that they had shared were lies? The one person House always thought he could call a friend, and that he could actually…trust…had he really just lied like everyone else?
"You know what House? You're…glad this happened to me. You said so many times that you wished… that for just one day…I'd experience the pain and difficulty that you go through with your leg. Well…guess what? Now I've got that…and more besides." House couldn't stay in the room anymore; he didn't want an audience. He had to get out. Pushing himself up to his feet and grabbing his cane, House lurched toward the door, stumbled and fell against the wall; both Lydia and Tom tried to help him. Ignoring Tom, House turned his anger toward Lydia.
"Hast du mich nicht verstanden? Ich will alleine sein!" Lydia was sacred; she swore House looked like he was about to have a heart attack. "Ich sage es du dir jetzl so, wie du es verstehest. Lass mich in Ruhel. Lass mich alleine sein, zum Teufel!" House had gotten right in Lydia's face and yelled; the last person to do that to her, was her ex-husband. There were tears streaming down her face that could clearly be seen, sobs that were obviously heard; but House didn't stick around to see what he had done to the woman he loved. He could be heard crashing off things as he stumbled down the hall. No one spoke, no one knew what to say.
"Lydia, what did he say to you? I…you know I only understand some German even after all this time…" Annie, like the rest of the room was in shock. House was never overly touchy-feely or cutesy in public with Lydia; but anyone who saw them together, anyone who saw him through the years, knew he was in love with her. What the hell was going on?
"He said, 'Didn't you understand me? I want to be left alone! Here, I'll say it in a way you'll understand. Leave me alone…get the hell… away from me…'" Lydia started crying as Tom came over to hold her.
"Hey…hey, take it easy," he said. Tom backed her up to the chair that House had been in. "Your turn to sit." Thirteen came over with a cup of water.
"Here; he may not have wanted it, but you need it." Lydia nodded as she took the cup.
"Dear, this is none of my business," Henry Wilson said. "But he has no right to talk to you that way. He…"
"Dad," Wilson said quietly as he shook his head. "This is my fault."
"What the hell are you talking about, it's your fault?" Foreman asked. "You can't help what you come out and say right now. You…"
"Foreman!" Wilson said sharply. "I said what I said deliberately." Everyone was startled.
"Why…why would you say that deliberately?" Claudia Wilson asked. "You knew how upset he was; you would just make him more…"
"Mom!" Wilson said looking at his mother. "That's exactly the idea. I was trying to help him by getting him upset."
"Mrs. Wilson, James knows Greg better than anyone. Greg's at his breaking point right now; he is so close to the edge of losing it…I…I only saw him that way once before." Lydia looked at Wilson who closed his eyes and turned his head away. "James hoped if he said things that would really bother Greg…that he'd crumble in a heap, and therefore have no choice but to let us help him. The fight would be gone out of him," Lydia said. "I knew what you were trying to do; it's not your fault it didn't work," Lydia said to Wilson. He slammed his hand down on the bed tray.
"I…I didn't do it very well," Wilson said angrily. "I didn't want to be cruel…but once I started talking, that…damned unfiltered part of me kicked in. I went after his three biggest weak spots: his leg, how he treated Stacy…and his fear of losing you," he said looking at Lydia. "I didn't want him gimping out of here to go do something…crazy; I wanted him to…be my roommate, have the bed next to me. With everything going on with him, he needs a break."
"And he didn't get one with the phone call he got a little while ago from Virginia," Lydia said. "His mother's cardiologist spoke to him; his mother is still having bouts of arrhythmia. One was self- correcting, one they had to use the paddles."
"Why aren't the doctors taking a more aggressive course of action?" Chase asked. Lydia shook her head.
"Ideally, a catheterization would probably help, but they don't think she would survive it. She's had several TIAs, several incidents of arrhythmia…I've lost count how many. Greg talked to his mother and Reverend Bell…she swore she's going to hold on until he can get down there."
"He won't go until the tumor's removed," Wilson said. "Damn it!"
"I know Greg's too smart to be fooled easily," Annie said. "But is there any way you could tell him you did another x-ray, show him one of someone without a tumor…and say that the radiologist made a mistake on the first ones?"
"A first year med student wouldn't buy into that," Taub said. "I know you're just trying to help but…" Annie looked dejected.
"Lydia, I'm so, so sorry," Wilson said. "Just because this stupid…brain swelling is making me sound like him half the time, I should know if I'm going to try a House-like move…the last person I should try it on is House."
"Don't you think he saw through things and knew what you were trying to do?" Tom questioned.
"He's blinded by rage and hurt at the moment," Lydia said. "Tomorrow morning after he sobers up, he'll probably tell James it was a great idea, then tell him what he did wrong."
"I feel like having a drink right now myself," Slick said. "I'm going to go out and have a cigarette for sure."
"Does he have car keys?" Foreman asked.
"Yes…but not a clicker for the alarm. The dealership had only one, and we've never had the chance to go pick up a second one. The van's the only car here. His car is back at the house."
"Come on, this is House we're talking about. He'll have the alarm disabled, and the damn thing hotwired before you can say lupus," Thirteen said.
"Easy," Chase said. "We're not trying to piss him off any more than he already is."
"I don't mean to go worst case scenario," Slick said. "But I'm on the night shift. I can keep an ear out for any calls involving a tall, crazy guy with a cane."
"He's not crazy," Lydia said sadly as she stood up. "He cares very much for his patients and the people in his life; he's just spent so much time being afraid to reveal his feelings, that he works all the harder sometimes to hide them. Many times with what seems to be a callous approach. I know," she said looking at House's team. "That he's pulled plenty of stunts with you through the years; we've talked about it often enough. But…"
"He's the one who pushed me to get my glasses as soon as possible," Thirteen said quickly. "I know a lot of it is because he doesn't need anyone on the team making careless mistakes…he told me he needs Thirteen not Six Point Five," she said with a smile. "But he also offered me time off like you did, Wilson. And he's the one who urged me to talk to you guys…about some changes that I've had with my Huntington's."
"What? Why didn't you say something?" Foreman asked. "You just mentioned migraines."
"I'm saying it now," Thirteen said. "There's been…a small amount of brain tissue shrinkage. Recent studies have shown that there may be a link between the shrinkage and migraines, but my doctor said it's too early to tell if they're related. The change in my eyesight probably is connected to the migraines, one way or the other. House…was really supportive about the situation, even with everything else going on."
"Lydia, I wasn't trying to be nasty with that comment before," Slick said. "I'm worried about House, too."
"Do you know where he could have gone?" asked Tom. "Maybe in a little while, you could…kind of just happen to walk in, and…"
"No," Lydia said firmly shaking her head. "He needs some time to release all the pressure he's got built up inside of him. Besides, I'm not going to be one of those women who goes on a bar crawl looking for her man. I'm pretty sure I know what he's going to do." She turned to Wilson. "When are you planning on getting things started?"
"I need some real rest," he said. "A matter of a few hours won't make a difference. With all the saline I've had flushed through my system, the test can be done tonight, the operation done tomorrow morning." Lydia closed her eyes; Wilson obviously intended on having the HRCT done without House here. And depending on what shape he was in, possibly without him here in the morning.
"Lydia, I can see what you're thinking…as much as I tried to get him to calm down and stay here with me…he chose to run off. This isn't something I can wait too long to do," Wilson said, hoping she would understand.
"Wilson, you shouldn't put it off for too long," Chase said. "You're really lucky it's being caught this early."
"I'm only talking about waiting until tomorrow morning," said Wilson holding up his hands. "It will give me a chance to think things over, and pick who's going to do the operation. I was hoping, Chase, that you would assist and Taub you would close. You did a great job on my hip; this is going to be huge in comparison." Claudia Wilson had sat down on the edge of her son's bed.
"How…how big is this incision going to be?" she asked. Wilson dreaded telling his mother this part; his father might be a little more stoic.
"It will look just like the scars people have after they've had by-pass surgery. Like…I said before, the tumor is located in front of the heart, so they have to use the same kind of incision."
"Oh, my poor, baby!" Mrs. Wilson cried out as she came over to him and hugged him. Wilson shook his head at his mother's uncomfortable display of affection.
"Are you going to be OK without…whatever it is they're taking out?" Henry Wilson asked.
"He'll be fine without it," Chase said reassuringly.
"Of course I will," Wilson said without much enthusiasm.
"I think we'll go back and start taking care of things on our regular routine," Foreman said, once again trying to sound like he was the only one in charge. "We can split up taking turns to check on Sheeler in recovery and when he gets back up here. Wilson, when you decide how you want the timing of things to go…let one of us know and we'll get things set up."
"You're sure you're OK with waiting to tomorrow?" Thirteen asked Wilson.
"A matter of a few extra hours to get some rest and calmly arrange things would be the best medicine right now," Wilson said.
"OK, we'll head out," Foreman said making his way through the door and turning to see that the rest of the team followed; with House and Wilson technically being out of commission, Foreman was determined to make the most of his position.
"If you need anything, let us know," Taub said.
"I'll be fine," said Wilson. "I'm determined to get through this as unscathed as possible."
"Hey, I have to get home and get ready for work," Slick said. "If…I hear anything about House I'll let Lydia know."
"Thanks," Wilson said appreciatively.
"I got a call about a new admit," Tom said looking at his cell. "It's a kid; she was in a bad car wreck, so I'd like to go see her, do an evaluation and do my best to calm the kid and reassure the parents. Are you going to be alright in the chair, or should I help you get back in bed?" Wilson shook his head and smiled.
"I am enjoying this too much," he said smiling. "The bit of discomfort I'm feeling is more than worth it. I was going to ask my parents if they'd go out and pick up some real food for us. I can't eat after midnight, so I might as well enjoy it now."
"I'm thinking I'll give Marianne a call and have dinner with the kids, talk to them a little so they know what's going on, maybe brush Elise's hair after her bath." Lydia smiled. "It's only a little over twenty-four hours and I miss being around them…miss being a mom."
"That's because you're so good at it," Annie noted staring at the floor. Wilson looked up at her; she seemed a million miles away.
"Are you alright?" he asked. She nodded.
"I still haven't caught up on my sleep," she said with a yawn.
"See you in a little bit," Tom said as he exited.
"Bye, guys," Slick said as he headed off to work. Lydia took a small notebook and pen out of her pocketbook and began to write down what Wilson and Annie wanted from Cherry Valley. The right sandwich would be filling, but not heavy for Wilson, so he went with a turkey melt. Annie loved their honey ham and cheddar grilled sandwich. Mr. and Mrs. Wilson decided to make their choices after looking over the menu.
"Good luck with that," their son said. "They have quite a selection over there."
"We'll figure it out," Claudia said as she bent down to kiss her son. Henry bent down to do the same.
"You'll be here with him?" Mr. Wilson asked Annie.
"I'm not going anywhere," she replied.
"I might be gone by the time you get back," Lydia said looking at her watch. "I don't like to let the kids eat too late since they have an early bedtime on school nights."
"Well, we'll see you tomorrow, dear. Have a good night," Henry Wilson said as he gave Lydia a kiss. Claudia came over and gave Lydia a hug.
"You hang in there," Claudia said. "Your boyfriend's a bit of a character…but I can see that he really loves you. After all, he bothered to learn your native tongue just to make you more comfortable." She patted Lydia on her shoulder and gave her a kiss. "Have a good night, dear." Lydia just smiled as Wilson's parents left the room.
"Are they gone?" Wilson asked. Lydia nodded as she stood by the door.
"Yes," she said coming back in.
"You weren't about to tell them how House knows German, were you?" he noted.
"Nope. It would take far too long and I wanted to have a few minutes with you two before I left to see the kids."
"Everything OK?" Annie asked.
"I just need to take a deep breath before I try to put on a brave face for the kids and wait to make contact with Greg," Lydia said. "I am making the right decision by not stalking him and looking for him… aren't I?" Lydia asked Wilson.
"I've never bothered to look for him when he's like this; nor did I bother cleaning him up when I'd find him lying next to his own vomit," Wilson said ruefully. "He's…different with you on certain things than he used to be…but in other ways just the same." Wilson thought for a moment. "What time is it now?"
"Almost five," Lydia said looking at her watch.
"I'd give him to eleven…maybe midnight before you try to find him. He's going to tie a real good one on, but that's just what he needs to do right now." Lydia folded her arms and nodded.
"Do you have any idea of where he may go?" Annie asked.
"Probably Otto's," Lydia said with a slight smile. "It's where we went to lunch the day I found him here at the hospital when we moved back. We've been there once or twice again; we even took the kids there once. They were a hit with all the other patrons."
"Otto's is the closest place to here that House would feel comfortable at. We've both known Mike, the owner, for years, so it would make sense," Wilson noted.
"I'm also hoping that if he goes there, that someone would give him a ride back to his apartment," Lydia said.
"You think he'll go there?" inquired Wilson.
"When you gentlemen asked us ladies to move in with you, Greg said he wanted to get rid of the apartment; he said if he was going to make this relationship work, he needed to get rid of the place where he could go run to and hide. I think I'll ultimately find him there." She looked at Wilson. "Are you going to be OK having this test done without Greg here? If you want me to go find him now…"
"No, he needs to get this out of his system and calm down. Try…try to have him here by…nine. I'm going to see if they can squeeze me in down in the OR."
"I'll go over to the apartment around eleven; I may have more of a chance of getting him over here by eight, just to be sure."
"Just be prepared," Wilson said. "When you go to the apartment, you may find more than a drunk House, an empty liquor bottle and pile of puke. You may find that old habits have come back." Lydia let out a sigh as she looked at the floor.
"Oh, I know," she said. "Believe me…I know…"
House struggled to open his eyes; he looked around trying to figure out where he was. He could tell he was sitting on the floor, his back leaning against something solid. There was a window to his right; the barest amount of light from the street lamp coming in between drawn curtains. To his left, was a doorway, with a dim reflection of illumination bouncing off the walls of the hall. House reached behind him to feel for whatever it was that was holding him up right now. It was then that he realized where he was: his bedroom at his apartment. That would have been all well and good if he could remember how he got there. He made an attempt to stand up, but concluded that neither his legs nor his head would cooperate, and his stomach was beginning to raise its own protest, too. House fell back against the bed, and took stock of what was around him.
Up on his night stand was a nearly empty bottle of whiskey and a glass next to it. There seemed to be a pack of cigarettes and a lighter up there also, although he couldn't be sure. The presence of the smokes was confirmed when his hand touched an ashtray near him on the floor; he sent the ashes sprawling all over when leaned too heavily to his right. Turning his head slowly so as not to disturb his stomach, House looked up on the bed to see if his cane and jacket were there; they were not. He did remember heading to his office to grab the jacket before leaving the hospital, and he knew he wouldn't get very far without his cane; they had to be around there somewhere.
House tried to remember the events that brought him to his apartment, and as he did, the silent berating that he felt he deserved started. Instead of staying in Wilson's room to be there for him, support him, no matter what he said to House…he ran. He couldn't deal with any of the people who were there, so he left and looked for a good place to drown his sorrows…he ran and hid, what he always did. What he always did, until Lydia became a part of his life. There were nights at the house when he'd be pissed over what happened at work because a case had him stuck, or just mad at life in general for giving him the pain he had to deal with in his leg…and he'd stay there and have a few, then headed off to bed. But the last twenty-four hours…this was about a hell of a lot more than work or just his leg; this was about people's lives.
His life and his leg? They weren't going anywhere. But a young guy losing part of his leg, and almost losing his life because of rules and regulations that made him afraid to seek proper help? No…too much. Then the terror of the shooting: Watching Annie fall apart because the man she loved was almost taken from her, Lydia doing everything she could to save Wilson…for Annie, for herself, for him. Then there was the head wound on Lydia that seemed scream to him "Kiss her and say goodbye!" because it was nothing but dumb luck that any of them weren't dead. And Wilson…Wilson whose blood covered House, Wilson whose heart stopped right as House was standing there…Wilson who now had cancer, no matter how treatable it was. Wilson…his best friend, the brother House never knew, his Saturday night video game partner and sometimes drinking buddy. Despite the fog in his head, House managed a laugh; he knew what Wilson was trying to do earlier at the hospital. He made a mental note to give him some pointers on the right approach to rattling the hell out of someone. He just hoped the thought wouldn't become erased from the tablet of his mind.
His mother. She wasn't a young woman, but never really unhealthy, as far as House knew. But a lack of communication made the distance even further than it physically was already. And now it had become a race with his mother's failing health to get to her so that questions could be answered and bridges could be rebuilt. He couldn't leave Wilson now; the damn cancer discovery was the only thing holding him back. But his mom would be the first one to tell him, "You don't abandon your friends!" House looked around the room; half the pack of cigarettes was gone, almost all of the whiskey, too. And he had done it alone, as always.
House was hiding; hiding from the harshness of the world that he so hated, hiding from all the bad things that happen to people…he was trying, but failing to hide from his leg. He was doing what he did as a child: hiding from the noise, the screams as his mother begged John House to stop, to not hurt her boy. He hid…under his bed, in his closet…anywhere his mother told him to go to avoid the wrath of a crazed man. And this, House thought to himself as he picked up the near empty bottle, this was how he learned to hide as an adult. As much as he turned a cold shoulder to the world, or so it seemed, crutches like this helped him hide all the more. The movement sickened his stomach, but House began to shake his head. He didn't need this anymore, he didn't need to hide. The bogeyman known as John House was gone…and the one that House always had dancing inside of his head, poking him and poisoning his thoughts…well he was now sharing space with the feelings he found he had from being with Lydia. The bogeyman had gone from a condo to a one room studio apartment.
Was he happy? Hell no! We're talking about Gregory House here. But all those dark thoughts and places in his mind and soul had become a little brighter, a little less hard because of Lydia. He realized he wanted nothing more right now than to be holding her, to have her hold him…and to let them talk, a skill she was very good at, and was doing a great job of teaching him. He didn't need to hide like this anymore. It actually wasn't a hell of a lot of fun, House thought. He rolled from one hip to another, looking in his pockets for his cell phone; the movement didn't do his stomach any good. He was hoping to get a call out to Lydia to come get him…and either make it to the bathroom before he upchucked, or be able to hold it down until he got home. House looked at the room as best he could from his position; this wasn't home anymore. He had…existed here, lived what started out to be a good life with Stacy, had a lot of fun with Lydia here starting with the day she came to find him at PPTH; but there were too many things, real and imaginary, that House wanted to forget about this place. This…this wasn't home, he thought as he grabbed at his leg, stabbing pain shooting through it…home…home…he couldn't pull his thought together; the booze had boggled his brain too much. House suddenly became aware of footsteps coming down the hall and had to smile; Lydia had known where to find him. He wanted to be a little more pulled together before she got there, but there wasn't much he could do about that right now…
"Well, hello there." House turned his head quickly; a definite mistake, but the unfamiliar voice made him jump.
"Who the hell are you?" House asked, the pain evident in his voice.
"Oh, come on; I know it's been a long time, but you're the one who came looking for me." A woman came into the room; she was dressed all in white, even her hair was such a platinum blonde as to look white, too. House didn't know why, but he found he couldn't focus on her face.
"I…I don't know who you are," he said still rubbing his leg.
"Once we get started, you'll remember me," the woman said. "And the more you have me, the more you'll remember."
"I don't remember calling you; I don't even know where the hell my cell phone is," House said. The annoyance in his voice was obvious. He didn't know who she was, but he wanted her out of there.
"I think if we have a close encounter, you'll remember who I am," the woman said as she went to sit down across House's lap.
"NO!" House yelled out. "My leg!"
"Your leg, your scar… I won't hurt you. I know all about you. Every…single…inch…" The woman leaned forward and started to run her tongue along his ear. The inside of his brain was screaming, No, no! I don't want this, I don't want HER!
"No…No! Get away from me!" House yelled out. The woman looked puzzled.
"Don't I feel good to you?" she asked taking House's hands and running them up and down her sides. "I get it; you have a girlfriend. You can have me, too," the woman in white said tossing her hair aside. "How about just a lick?" She lowered her neck toward House, offering it to him. His brain was still spinning: Who was this woman? I don't want her, I can't do this! House, don't be a jackass! But despite the entreaties pounding through his head, House leaned forward, stuck out his tongue and brought it up along the woman's neck. House, you freaking idiot, you moron! You don't want her, you want Lydia! Don't ruin the best thing that's ever happened to you! No! Stop! You don't want to do this to Lydia…don't…
"No, I can't! I don't want you! I want Lydia! Now get the hell away from me!" And with a hard shove, the woman in white was pushed against the door of the room by House. "Get the hell out of here!"
"Take it, easy; I'll leave," the woman said. "But just remember…you're the one who came looking for me…and I'll never be too far away." House dropped his head down and listened as her footsteps faded away. If House thought he could do it without harming himself, he would have kicked himself in the ass right now. What the hell was the matter with him? What did he hope to accomplish by seeking her out? He couldn't even remember making the call. He could never have that woman and Lydia at the same time…she'd never put up with it. He didn't want it. As House tried to roll to his knees to stand up, he knew the venture wasn't going to go well. He got as far as his knees, and with his arms supporting him, he began to puke. It was violent, it was nasty, and when House finished this bout of nausea, his arms gave out. He tried to miss the puddle of vomit, but was unsuccessful; his face hit the puke on his right side as he fell onto the floor. He remained laying on his right, and passed out…
Lydia pulled up in front of House's apartment building, and put the van into park. His handicapped space wasn't occupied, and his old handicapped hang tag was in the van. Since his car still had the actual handicapped plates, Lydia took out her Blackberry and made a note to herself to download the proper forms so the license plates on the van could be handicapped, too. She felt a wave of apprehension as she got out of the car, and neared the building door. She wasn't sure what she would do if House wasn't here; contrary to the way she usually did things, she didn't have a plan B. Unlocking the door to the building, and then his apartment, Lydia broke out in a huge smile when she saw his cane where he usually hung it up, and his jacket thrown over the back of the couch. She placed her pocketbook on the sofa, and dropped her keys inside of it.
"Greg?" She stepped a few feet into the living room and looked around. "Greg?" She headed over to the kitchen, but quickly realized he wasn't there. As Lydia made her way down the hall, she could see that he wasn't in the bathroom; the bedroom was the obvious last choice. Taking a deep breath to prepare for whatever it was she might see, Lydia took the last few steps to the doorway of the bedroom. No number of deep breaths or any other preparation Lydia could have done would have braced her for the sight that met her eyes. House was on his knees, attempting to support himself with his arms and failing miserably. He kept placing his hands in the puddle of his vomit and slipping face first into it.
"GREG!" Lydia yelled out. House turned his head to look at her; he pushed himself back onto his haunches. What he did next horrified Lydia to her very core: He brought both hands up to his throat and moved them back and forth rapidly.
It was the universal signal for choking. Lydia rushed over to House and dropped to her knees.
"Greg, sit down! Sit down with your butt flat on the floor! If I kneel behind you, I can get some leverage!" House followed her direction and Lydia set herself behind House. She was just high enough above him to get her hands in the proper position: her right fist was just above his navel, her left hand on top of that. She cried out in pain as she pushed her burnt fingers into tight fists and gave two quick thrusts upward into House's abdomen. Cursing when it didn't work the first time, she repeated the gesture, this time with success. House spewed the vomit all over, including onto Lydia who had fallen forward on House's left side. He continued coughing, spitting out the remaining debris left in his mouth; Lydia was trying not to throw up herself from the pain she felt in her hands and fingers. Her burns from holding the freshly fired bullets that had been in Wilson's leg and hip, were raw and painful.
"Are you OK?" she asked. "Can you breathe better now?"
"Yeah," he said, his voice raspy from the stomach acids. "I'm OK." Lydia nodded and got to her feet.
"I'll be right back," she said. She hurried into the kitchen where she grabbed various supplies: paper towel, sponges, cleanser, small lunch sized plastic bags and a few plastic garbage bags. Lydia also went into the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. As she came down the hall to the bedroom, she saw that House had made it to his feet and was in the bathroom splashing water on his face.
"Could you get me something to drink?" he asked.
"I brought a bottle of water for you," she replied. He nodded and started to close the bathroom door.
"Gotta pee. Be out in a sec." Lydia went into the bedroom and set the cleaning supplies down on the bed. Going over to the dresser, she pulled out clean underwear for herself and House; the vomit had soaked through her clothes, she was sure it soaked through his as well. They could change into clean clothes here, she'd bag up the soiled clothing and take them home to wash. After they got home, they both could take showers before sitting down to talk and then heading to bed. Taking some sweats out for both of them seemed like a good idea; the night was particularly cold for early October and House would feel the chill as soon as he stepped outside. Lydia placed the clothes on the bed, and was reaching for the cleaning solution, when something caught her eye that put a chill up her spine more than any crisp fall evening could. She walked over to the doorway, and picked up an oval white pill from the floor. She knew right away that she was holding Vicodin. The bathroom door opened, and House took several steps out; a new sick feeling washed over him as he saw what Lydia was holding.
"Where did you get this?" she asked keeping her voice level and calm. House walked past Lydia and sat down on the end of the bed.
"There's four more on the floor…over there somewhere," he said indicating the area between the door and the dresser. Lydia got down on her knees and searched around; she found three of the four House said would be there. She wanted to believe he was telling her the truth, but without finding that last pill… "Under the dresser," House said. From his position he could see the white pill at the edge of the piece of furniture.
"This one's sticky, like…it was in your mouth." Slowly standing up, Lydia came over and sat next to House on the bed.
"No; I licked it. When I was desperate to get my hands on Vicodin from anywhere I could, I'd buy it from guys on the street. Sometimes you got the real thing, sometimes not. A long slow lick would let you get a bit of a taste, and you knew if you were being taken or not."
"I take it these are the real thing?" asked Lydia.
"Yeah. There was a guy there, at Otto's…he had also been hurt at the crane collapse. They tried him on ibuprofen, eventually moved his way up to Vicodin, but that's not even helping him anymore. They've moved him up to Oxycodone. I told him he'd be much better off with a spinal specialist; from what he described, sounds like he has damage to the discs in the L1 through L5 area. Of course, all they do is hand him the pain pills without a check for the source of the pain." House turned to Lydia. "Sound familiar?" She nodded her head; it sounded all too familiar.
"So you only bought five from him?"
"That's all he had left. They can only write scripts for a one month supply any more due to all the laws trying to prevent abuse. When he went to the doctor the other day, the doc bumped him up to Oxy and refused to refill the Vicodin. The guy didn't know what he was doing; Vicodin goes for twenty dollars a pill out on the street. He only wanted five dollars a pill, and he was thrilled to get that. Mike, the owner of Otto's wasn't thrilled; he told us if we were going to buy and sell drugs to take it outside. Showed him it was only five and told him to chill, but he wouldn't shut up. We made the trade in the alley where I parked my motorcycle …the day we had lunch when you came back to New Jersey," House said, a tinge of sadness in his voice as he stared at the floor. "Do me a favor; flush those damn things down the toilet."
"No," Lydia said firmly. "If you really want to get rid of them…you should be the one to flush them." She held the pills out in her hand. House looked at her, then carefully took the pills out of her hand so he wouldn't hurt them anymore than they already had been.
"Come here," House said gesturing for Lydia to follow him. He went into the bathroom and lifted the lid and the seat on the toilet. "One…two…three…four…five," he said as he dropped each one in. House leaned over and pushed the handle down to start the cleaning action of the bowl. The two stood and watched as the swirl of water whisked the pills down and away. House put the seat and lid back down; he went and sat on the end of the bed again.
"I'm going to get the floor cleaned up," Lydia said. "Why don't you get changed? I'll do the same after I'm done here, and then we can go. Put the clothes you're wearing in one of the garbage bags; we'll use that to take them with us." As House began to peel off his soiled clothes, he thought about what Lydia said: …and then we can go…take them with us. There was no mention of the word home. They weren't going home, they were taking them with us…to where? House knew Lydia would not be happy about him snagging the Vicodin; but she had told him the first week they were together if he slipped up, they would deal with it together. Not that she meant to lie, but he had a feeling that this wasn't going to be the case. He might as well confess all.
"I had another hallucination…before I started upchucking my guts."
"I'm not surprised," Lydia said as she wrapped the two small plastic bags she brought from the kitchen around her hands to protect her injured fingers.
"I imagined…that there was a hooker here…dressed all in white. She kept telling me I called her, came looking for her, but I didn't remember doing that. She started licking my ear…but I wouldn't let her, I stopped her; I told her I didn't want her, I…wanted you," House said picking his head up and looking at Lydia. "She put her neck right in front of my face, told me to have a taste and I would remember…"
"And that's when you licked the Vicodin," Lydia said plainly, bluntly. House was trying to watch the reaction on her face, but he couldn't read what she was thinking. "Well, two vices in one hallucination is very economical. It's not a surprise; Vicodin was your mistress for years."
"Fraulein," he said putting his head into his hands. "I don't want the damn Vicodin; I don't want to get wasted and puke all over everything, myself and whoever's around me included." House let out a sigh. "I didn't want you, and Wilson and Annie to deal with that street thug, I don't want Wilson to have cancer…and although it happens to all of us eventually, I don't want my mother dying right now. Most of all…I don't want anyone else; I don't want to fool around with a hooker or any other woman. I want you. Despite what happened here…I didn't mean to hurt you. To ruin whatever trust we've managed to have." House could hear Lydia crying as she bent over trying to clean up the puddle House left on the floor. It bothered the hell out of him that he brought her to tears, broke her heart…when all she had ever done was made him feel better about himself than he ever felt in his life. Face it, House…you're a screw up. You always have been and you always will be. John House said those words to him so many years ago, he lost track; but John was right. The question was, where do they to go from here…? "Fraulein, you shouldn't have your hands in that so soon after getting the burns. I don't have any of the fast release ibuprofen around; you'll have to wait until we get into work tomorrow, and take regular Advil in the meantime. Come on, put the sponge down, get those bags off your hands and let me clean it up." Lydia didn't put up a fight as House made her sit back against the bed, and watch him as he cleaned the mess up. "Looks like I missed the ashtray more than once," House noted as he looked to his right.
"I'll get the handi-vac," Lydia said as she rose up from the floor. "What to do about the burns can be figured out another time. I have two candles that have a really strong scents. They'll freshen the room without even lighting them; I'll just leave the lids off the jars." House glanced over from what he was doing, and saw Lydia was getting changed. He so wanted to go over and hug her, apologize…she was one of the few people in this world he was willing to apologize to…just make things right; but there didn't seem to be chance of that happening. He could feel a chill, a distance between the two of them, that had never been there before…and he didn't like it. House gathered the used paper towels and sponges, placed them in a garbage bag, and tied a knot so he could take the bag to the building's garbage chute.
"Did you see my jacket and cane anywhere?" House asked hopefully.
"Your jacket's over the back of the couch, your cane's in its usual spot," Lydia said as she looked through a drawer to get out the candles she had mentioned; she didn't turn around, she didn't look at House. He silently picked up the garbage bag and headed down the hall. House grabbed his jacket and his cane, and took the garbage out to the trash chute. When he returned to the apartment, Lydia was standing near the couch, holding her pocket book.
"Everything is cleaned up, and I have the candles set up unlit on your nightstand. Your phone was on the bed," she said holding out House's cell phone to him. "Do you have your wallet?"
"Yeah," House said pulling it out and checking the contents. "Money and cards are all here."
"Do you need to go back to Otto's tomorrow and settle up your bill?"
"No; it's taken care of." Lydia nodded.
"Then let's head out," she said. House was grateful to see the car was parked in his usual spot; he was in no shape to go too far. He started shivering a bit which Lydia noticed as soon as they got in the car; she placed the laundry bag behind her seat and started the van. "I'll put the heat on in a minute."
"Thanks," House said quietly. He wanted to talk to Lydia, to get things going, but he didn't know how to start. Luckily, she did it for him.
"Your mother's cardiologist called again; they wanted to clear something with you, but I told them you wouldn't be available for the rest of the evening. They had noticed a decrease in the output of her urine, but her kidneys were working well; they don't think that she has CHF, but that whatever extra fluid she's holding in might be stressing her already poorly functioning heart. They didn't want to go too harsh of a route, so they're using Spironolactone, twenty-five milligrams and Lasix 40 milligrams. They'll keep a watch on her potassium levels and see where all of it takes her. I told the doctor that I understood what he was telling me, and he had permission to do it. They would still like to confirm with you directly that the treatment was alright." House actually managed a slight smile; he loved hearing Lydia talk about medicine, even if it was the simplest of things.
"The course they're taking is a good one, not radical but aggressive enough to get some results. I'll talk to them in the morning…I think everyone needs some sleep right about now," he said noting that the clock on the dashboard said it was a little after midnight. "How's Wilson doing?"
"He's…hanging in there; doing remarkably well actually. He's still very upset at the thought of having cancer, but Annie called me and said he's asked to look at the x-ray again; he keeps talking about how the oncologists call it 'puppy cancer' and the fact that it was caught early bodes very well for a complete recovery."
"He's probably right. It's just the concept of an oncologist having cancer that really pisses me off," House said leaning his head back.
"Among other things," Lydia replied. House glanced over at her, but she kept her eyes on the road, and wouldn't return his look.
"How did he do getting back into bed?" House asked.
"Very well; Tom said he was doing great for his first day up and moving around. He and Annie had sandwiches from Cherry Valley; he thought it best to get his eating done before midnight. They're going to do the High Resolution CT tonight…
"Tonight?" House said. "Get me over to the hospital!" Lydia wouldn't look at him. "Lydia, please!"
"The test is over, Greg. Annie texted me that James was pleased with the results. He's being taken to the OR between eight and nine a.m.," Lydia said as she turned onto the block where they lived. House hated himself for not being there for Wilson; he was about to hate himself even more. He was dreading this moment; he knew he had to say what was on his mind, but the day had come much sooner than he ever thought it would. Lydia pulled into the driveway, put the van into park, and turned it off.
"Look," said House, his head turned to look out the passenger window. "Wilson should be back in his room by early Saturday morning; at that point, I'm ready to leave to head down to my mom. I want…I need you to come with me. No matter what kind of rabbit they're pulling out of the hat, she doesn't have much longer. I know I'll have a lot of…running back and forth to settle her estate…but in between everything, I'll…I'll make time to get my stuff packed up so I can get out of here," he said gesturing toward the house. Keeping his head turned away, so Lydia wouldn't see the tears forming in his eyes, House reached for the door handle. He heard a loud "click"; he looked over his right shoulder and saw that the door locks had been put into the closed position. Puzzled, he turned and looked at Lydia.
"You…are not going…anywhere."