Title: In His Footsteps
Author: SrslyNo
Summary: After years apart, Wilson has changed, becoming more like House. House wants to know why. Part 3: House speaks to Cuddy and learns more about Wilson.
Characters: House/Wilson, Wilson/OC, LLB (he's aliiiive!!)
Rating: R for Language
Warning: Future AU, Angst. Slash.
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Not mine. Never will be.
A/N: This is the sequel to "Freeze Out." I want to thank everyone for expressing an interest in a continuation of this story. This fic also encompasses, "A Glassful of Shattered Hope" (slight allusions to DCE) which should be read before part 8.
In addition, I want to extend a big thank you to my betas, bishojo_kitsune and bookfan85 for their sharp eyes, suggestions and encouragement.
Concrit welcome.
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House closed his eyes, moving his head in disbelief, Crap! Of all times to be right! The only seat left on the flight was next to children spawned by Molly Shannon and Robin Williams. A sniveling child to the right of him chaperoned by a weekend dad, and two bored, whiny kids with their frazzled mother across the aisle. At least the flight was short and he owned an aisle seat.
He waved away the attendant's offer of a mixed drink, and made do with a cup of coffee and a mini dose of peanuts. The bag was so small, two shakes into his mouth, and the package was reduced to trash. With the rising cost of oil, he supposed the airline recycled the excess into fuel.
House alleviated his boredom by turning his thoughts to his current puzzle: Wilson. How could he find out what exactly happened to him?
Call Wilson's parents? No, they might tell their son. Do a record search on employment, medical records, and physical therapy centers? He would have to strike fast. Wilson wasn't an idiot. Under his good-natured façade the man prized secrecy like a miser hoarded gold. Everything might be tight and secure, but House counted on finding an unlocked back door into the information.
Speak to Cuddy? Was she close to him? If she was, she never let on, but as the dean of medicine she may have heard something. He decided that as soon as the plane landed he would forego taking the afternoon off and drive directly to the hospital to speak to her.
With his plan of action settled, he pulled out his iPod to blot out the noise around him. As his fingers followed along with the percussion, a thought broke through the throbbing beat. Perhaps he should go see Wilson. Another face-to-face, but this time he would push all the buttons that were sure to make him detonate and splatter truth along with anger. He shoved the idea to the side, labeling it "In Case of Emergency"
He toyed with the idea of calling him, knowing Wilson would not say much, but his silences or lies could be almost as valuable. That option was left on the back burner to simmer. It would depend upon what he learned from Cuddy.
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House showed up at the dean of medicine's office in time to see gravity drop her reading glasses onto her paperwork.
"At your age, Cuddy, you must take your calcium regularly to have proper posture. Three years ago and your cleavage would have made great catcher mitts for those glasses."
"Don't think Citracal will be impressed with your endorsement," Cuddy deadpanned. She looked pointedly at her watch, "Why weren't you at the hospital all day?"
"What makes you think, I wasn't?"
"You're team for one. The clinic log book for another."
"They didn't have a case. I told Foreman to send them down to the clinic. Perfect synergy," he answered.
"Perfect for you." Cuddy pulled a window envelope out of her desk and waived it in front of him. "You recognize this don't you? It's you're paycheck. If you want to be paid a doctor's salary, then you have to behave like one."
House swiped empty air. Cuddy was faster and slipped the envelope under her paperwork.
"Fooled everyone at the medical conference. Isn't that good enough?" He pulled the badge out of his pocket and tossed it on her desk. "See, says 'Doctor' and all kinds of letters after my name. Now hand over the check so I can pay off the geek who made it for me."
Cuddy read the information on the badge, "The Hopkins medical conference? You flew without a bribe?" She gaped with astonishment .
"With the speed and grace of an eagle. Yes, how else could I get there and back in one day? You never let me borrow your broom."
Shuffling through different stacks on her desk, Cuddy found what she was looking for - an agenda for the convention. "Since when do you attend medical conferences without a gun shoved into your back?" She skimmed over the events until her eyes widened and stopped halfway down the page. She stared up at him, "I should have known…Wilson."
House forced himself to maintain a poker face, as he upped the ante. "You're always insisting I network. Aren't you pleased I took your advice?"
Cuddy looked disgusted, "Networking, yes. Stalking, no. You two haven't spoken for how long? Almost five years? I don't want to be harsh, but has he ever contacted you in that time? Didn't you get the message?"
"But, mom we were BFF's. We shared popsicles and had sleepovers together."
His voice imitated a whining eight-year old, but his face betrayed an adult's dismay.
Throwing up her hands, "Enough with the metaphors." Always a soft touch, Cuddy walked around her desk and placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, "How did it go?"
Shrugging his shoulders, "I insulted him. He deflected. Good times."
"That bad?"
Pleased that she was falling for his pity act, he set in motion his plan to mine her for information. "Yeah. He couldn't stand being near me." House waited two beats before continuing, "I know I was a jerk, but that's lovable me."
He leveled his gaze at her, "Cuddy, there's something more going on. Have you talked to him?"
Dropping her hand from his shoulder, she caressed his back briefly before speaking, not meeting his eyes. "No House, we never spoke, and he never emailed. I would have told you."
"But you do know what he's up to, what he's been doing?" House pointed to the agenda, "He's more respected now then when he worked here. He was the big draw at the conference."
"Yes. Trinity's oncology department is at the forefront. We're lucky Brown stays one step behind their lead."
"Since when are you content to be number two? Why haven't you tried to entice Wilson back?" Under lidded eyes he watched her reaction. She appeared uncomfortable, and walked back to her desk where she began shuffling paperwork.
"No House. Wilson isn't interested. He made that clear when he didn't return to Princeton after his sabbatical ended, and…it's not always about having every front runner under one roof. I already have enough prima donnas with you, Simon and Lowell to deal with."
Absorbing the information, House got into her face, hoping she would crack "You're saying Wilson is tough to work with? We're talking about the passive-aggressive but affable enabler with the puppy dog eyes who practically begged to be insulted by me at least once a day?"
She split like an overripe watermelon, "I suppose he learned how to be a bastard from you, House."
The word "bastard" hung in the air. Cuddy caught herself, but it was too late. House backed off but was looking expectantly. She sighed, "I keep in touch with other deans and directors across the country. The director at Trinity calls on occasion. Rayburn claims Wilson is the sole reason he's considering early retirement."
This was unexpected news. House sat down. "Wilson's a common name. You sure he was talking about the same James Wilson?"
Nodding, "The very same. Oncology was mismanaged by the previous head, so Rayburn hired him, giving carte blanche to turn the department around. Wilson shook it up. Repaired the damage, made it first class, but won't let go of the reins or conform to policy. Jack is lucky if Wilson does what he asks once or twice a year."
"I taught my padawan well," commented House, looking pleased.
"You taught him too well. Either that, or you found a way to mind meld." Cuddy raised her hands, "I'm not saying you aren't a handful. You are, and you still don't know when to keep your mouth shut for your own good.
"Forgive me for saying this, but you mellowed. You go to clinic duty for weeks at a time without me breathing down your neck, and you meet most of your patients before they go into cardiac arrest." She looked at him with sincerity, "It's hard, I know, but ever since you stopped drinking and cut down on your meds you're…" She quirked an eyebrow, "almost tolerable."
Clasping his hands over his chest, "You wound me. I'm still the same, but too busy maintaining sobriety and reduced drug consumption to give two craps about fighting you on all your trivial hospital protocols."
He leered, "I do appreciate moving onto your good little boy list. At Christmas will I sit in your lap, or will you sit in mine?"
Cuddy stared, "You're still on the bad little boy list until you stop making comments like that."
She added, "You've improved while Wilson is…a liability." She cleared her throat, "His name has come up several times when I talked with other deans. He's not looking to make a move; however, no one is asking headhunters to talk to him."
"Spit it out, Cuddy."
She took a deep breath, "Wilson is dedicated, earns the respect of his patients and staff, submits papers, starts up ground-breaking clinical trials at the speed of light, but he's a train wreck waiting to happen. No hospital administrator wants him. Rayburn says he has one doctor on staff, Dr. West who comes the closest to keeping him in line, but Wilson is impossible. Shows up to work whenever he wants. Runs his department like it's his own personal fiefdom. Cuts corners on his clinic hours. Behind on paperwork. Doesn't attend staff meetings. Seldom responds to email. For the most part, won't take Rayburn's suggestions or supervision, and...and" Cuddy closed her eyes, "House, are you sure you want to hear all this? You're not going to like it."
He already didn't like it, that's why he was asking all these damned questions. "Go on."
"Rayburn says he knew Wilson drank when he hired him. He stopped for a while, but went downhill in the last two or three years. He doesn't come to work drunk, but his reflexes are slow and his hands aren't steady enough for surgery and procedures. He agreed to take a cut in pay. Rayburn feels at least he's getting his money's worth. Wilson is on the same collision course you were five years ago. No hospital wants to take him on."
She gauged how the words affected him. He was sad, but not shocked.
House thought about what she said. Her revelations confirmed his suspicions. At the conference he noted Wilson's faintly bloodshot eyes, and rosacea flushed cheeks.
His clear blue eyes peered back at her "Why didn't you ever tell me?"
"What could you do?"
He shook his head at the dilemma, but he was tracking down one more answer, "Could his behavior be a symptom of something else? Do you know if Wilson was ill or injured?"
Raven eyebrows crinkled in surprise, "You can't frame everyone's actions into a differential. What are you getting at? He had an infarction like you? That's why he behaves like you used to?" She put her hand up for a moment to reflect, "I haven't heard anything, but it can't be ruled out. The two of you think very much alike. Two sides of the same coin."
"You're saying I'm heads, and he's the ass." He covered his mouth in mock embarrassment, "Ooops, I meant 'tails.'"
She rolled her eyes, "You're not going to stop until you find out what's going on, are you?"
House thought she deserved an honest answer, "No."
"Fine, whatever you do, don't start obsessing and allow your life to spiral out of control again…or make his life worse."
Cuddy watched as House's face became grave and his eyes distant as if channeling King Solomon. He spoke in a quiet but deliberate voice, "Are you saying you're giving up on Wilson? You never gave up on me."
There was something about the way he asked the question that made her carefully weigh her answer as if she was deciding to take a patient off life support, "No of course I believe in him. If he wanted to come back I'd make room." Shrugging her shoulders, "What's another bad boy around here."
Somehow she leaned over the desk to emphasize her point, but without exposing any more of her breasts and wagged a finger, "You know I care about the two of you."
Nodding as he got up, he gripped his cane as he readied to go, "Of course, Cuddy, I always knew you wore a 'D' cup because of the size of your heart and not your boobs."
The envelope with his paycheck suddenly appeared in her hand. She gave it to him as she snapped out, "That's very comforting House. Sorry I can't say the same for you."
tbc
A/N: Thank you for reading. Comments always welcome.