Poison and Wine
Chapter 9
They called Wilson's parents in the morning – or rather, House did. Wilson hadn't wanted to shock them as soon as they picked up the phone. House was all too willing to hand over the cell as soon as he thought the Wilsons could handle it, limping out of the bedroom so he wouldn't have to hear the conversation.
"Mom says thank you," Wilson said quietly when he was done, joining him in the living room.
"I know. She told me already."
"I offered to go over tomorrow, but they wanted to come out here themselves. Mom didn't want me making the drive."
"I would've driven you."
"I know you would've, House. But…you know how parents are. Even when you're my age, they still think you're twelve."
"Guess I'll have to take your word for it." House cocked his head towards the doorway, cane in hand. "Now come on – it's Cuddy time."
The light jacket and long jeans that Wilson chose even in the heat complemented the cap he pulled over his head and the shades that eclipsed his eyes. They parked close to the hospital, moving as fast as House's leg would allow. If anyone recognized Wilson, no one said a word.
He removed his hat and sunglasses as they entered Cuddy's office, the dean's eyes widening at their sudden intrusion. "I'll have to call you back," she said into the phone, hanging up with a disapproving glare. "Why do I have a feeling that neither of you are here to work? And what the hell are you wearing?" she added, glancing up and down Wilson's attire.
Wilson stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets. "I just figured…you know, with the air conditioning – "
"He needs his liver drained," House interrupted.
"You guys been drinking too much lately?" Cuddy replied flatly, unamused.
"You think I'd let him drink in his condition? Why Cuddy, how little you think of me."
Wilson's eyes rolled up to the ceiling in exasperation as Cuddy's own narrowed in annoyance. "This isn't quite how I'd imagined this going," he muttered.
House tapped his cane impatiently. "I'm sure you can fit in an appointment for your ex-Head of Oncology. Say, now-o-clock?"
"House, what the hell – "
"Cuddy…" Wilson sighed, running a hand through his hair and easing himself down onto the couch. "I know House is being a totally unhelpful ass, but he's right. I could use your help."
Cuddy's frown softened as she gauged Wilson's expression. "What's going on?" she asked.
Wilson forced himself to meet her gaze. "I was diagnosed with liver cancer," he replied quietly. "Secondary, stage four. I came home to ride it out."
Silence followed. Cuddy opened her mouth as if to speak, only to close it again as her eyes glimmered with concern.
Eventually, she composed herself. "How long?" she finally asked.
"Not long," Wilson admitted. "But if there are any favors you can pull for me, I'd – "
"Of course," Cuddy assured him. She stood from her desk, making her way to Wilson to sit beside him. Her hand fell gently on his shoulder, her expression sad but professionally firm. "We'll do whatever we can."
"I want everything done under a false name, by the team only," House interrupted quietly. "Jenkins can consult if he keeps his mouth shut."
"I can assure you that Jenkins is discrete," Cuddy replied, but her tone had lost all traces of sternness. She turned back to Wilson. "I'm so sorry, James."
He managed a smile for her. "Thank you."
She squeezed his shoulder and pushed herself off the couch. "I can call Jenkins and the team right now and brief them," she said, keeping her eyes on her skirt as she smoothed it out. "If you're distended, we should get you in today."
"We're not staying to watch them go all Cameron on him," House said. "Tell them to come up to my office when they're done crying over Boy Wonder here."
Cuddy watched as House helped Wilson up, not missing the way that their hands lingered together. She moved to stand beside him as Wilson finally disentangled his fingers and made his way to the door first.
"Were you always…?" Her whispered question trailed away, and House turned briefly to look at her.
"I think you know," he murmured quietly, and followed Wilson out of the office.
They rode the elevator up together, ignoring the stares from the two nurses who looked at them curiously. Wilson's departure had been a taboo subject that no one spoke of publicly, especially to House, and while they probably recognized him behind the sunglasses and hat that he'd replaced, neither said a word. Once safe in House's office, House moved his desk chair to the armchair by the door, and they waited in the quiet.
Foreman and Jenkins eventually arrived, both making a clear effort to remain cautiously professional. Foreman kept his focus on the wheelchair he'd been pushing, while Jenkins' eyes were drawn to the famous Head of Oncology whom he'd replaced. House glared at them both, a warning well-understood.
"Dr. House," Jenkins greeted at last, before turning back to Wilson. "And Dr. Wilson – it's a pleasure to finally meet you. Rob Jenkins, Oncology. I've heard nothing but the highest praise of your work here."
Wilson forced a smile. "The pleasure's all mine."
"Yes. Well." Jenkins nervously cleared his throat, glancing towards Foreman in the corner. "You remember Dr. Foreman, I'm sure."
"Of course." Wilson nodded towards the leader of House's team. "Dr. Foreman."
"Dr. Wilson," Foreman nodded back.
"Dr. Foreman will run you down for some testing, and we can take it from there," Jenkins said. "Sound good?"
"Sure," Wilson agreed, and Jenkins smiled cheerfully.
"Right, then. I'll see you shortly, Dr. Wilson."
Foreman glanced apologetically at Wilson as Jenkins left the office. "Sorry about Jenkins. He's…it's been hard for him to take your place."
"That's because he's an idiot," House scoffed.
"We've missed you here," Foreman agreed, taking Wilson's arm as he helped him into the wheelchair. "You okay?"
"Fine," Wilson said. He glanced up at House, managing a small smile. "You should stay here. Play some poker, watch some porn. I'll be fine."
House frowned. "If you think I'm – "
"House, it's just going to be some unnecessary testing that we both know the outcome of, and I don't you need you there just for a lousy paracentesis. Foreman will keep you informed – won't you, Foreman?"
"Pretty sure he'll kill me if I don't," Foreman reminded him.
House sighed. "Fine," he consented, and returned his glare to Foreman. "I want you observing when Chase does the paracentesis."
Foreman nodded, gripping the wheelchair handlebars as House reluctantly opened the door for them. By choice, the cap and shades remained in the office, and Wilson ignored the inevitable stares and whispering that followed.
He turned back to face Foreman as they moved towards the elevator. "I thought Thirteen was still here," he remarked.
"She is."
"Is she off today?"
"She usually comes to work, but just as another mind on the team. No procedures."
"Why not?"
The wheelchair came to a stop as they reached the elevator. "Shaky hands," Foreman explained quietly, and pushed the elevator button.
House crossed his arms as he sat across from Jenkins, his eyes already having swept across the x-rays and test results on the desk in front of him. He'd hopped over the balcony border upon receiving Jenkins' call, knowing how much it would annoy him, and he hadn't needed long to draw the necessary conclusions from the exams.
True to his habit, Jenkins nervously cleared his throat. "As you can see, Dr. House," he began, but House cut him off.
"I don't need your stupid speech about how soon he's going to drop off," he muttered. "And Wilson doesn't need it, either."
Jenkins nodded, allowing only a slight twitch to show that he still wasn't completely used to House's demeanor. "Chase and Foreman are performing the paracentesis now," he said instead. "He'll have to have regular appointments to get the fluid drained."
"He needs pain meds," House added, surprised as Jenkins picked up a small stack of already-written prescriptions from his desk.
"He told your team that he wasn't taking anything, and he didn't want anything. But when he's ready, you can give him these. I included a diuretic in there, too, if you can get him to take it." Jenkins handed him the prescriptions and leaned back in his chair. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Dr. House?"
House looked up from the slips of paper gripped tightly in his hand. "I need you to do me a favor."
"Of course."
"Since you're in the business of dying…I need a recommendation."
"What kind of recommendation?"
"For palliative care. Got a name you can give me?"
"Do you intend to keep Dr. Wilson at home?"
House nodded, and Jenkins cleared his throat.
"Well, Dr. House…I do have an idea for you. Let's call Dr. Cuddy to join us, shall we?"
Foreman returned a tired-looking Wilson to House's office, with Chase following close behind to help ward off gossipers. House was already back, pretending to be watching a monster truck rally rather than still fuming over the intern and three nurses who hadn't had the brains not to approach him on Wilson's return.
"How'd it go?" House asked, turning off the television.
"Good." Wilson glanced up at the doctors beside him. "Thanks, guys."
"Anytime, man," Foreman replied, clapping Wilson's shoulder as Chase gave a nod of agreement.
House rolled over to them on his wheeled desk chair. "I talked to Jenkins and Cuddy – looks like we can get some hospital equipment at home."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, instead of relying on some sleazy home care people, we get the good stuff."
Wilson frowned. "How can Cuddy possibly afford to do that?"
"We found a way," House replied breezily. "And these two lucky ducks get to take turns being your slave – not that that's anything new for the black one over there."
"It's the least we can do," Chase said quickly, as Wilson raised his eyebrows at them. "We'd much prefer to help out than to put you in the hands of a stranger."
"And he also knows that I'll make his life hell if he doesn't," House added happily.
"I don't know what to say," Wilson murmured. "Thank you."
"Let's just get you home to rest," Foreman said. "You ready?"
They wheeled Wilson out to the parking lot and helped him into the passenger's seat. Once home, he parked himself on the couch, carefully lying down to avoid the bandaged wound on his abdomen.
"House?"
House limped back from the kitchen, a glass of water for Wilson in one hand a beer for himself in the other. "Yeah?"
"How did you get Cuddy to pull that off?"
House sighed, setting the drinks down on the coffee table. Gently, he squeezed his way onto the couch between Wilson and the armrest, allowing Wilson's head to rest on his good leg. "It was Jenkins' idea. Guess he's not a complete idiot."
"He suggested that the hospital provide home care?"
"Called Cuddy up, got her approval, the works. She called Foreman and Chase out during the procedure to talk to them."
"I remember them stepping out." Wilson frowned, thinking. "House…you didn't forgo your salary, did you?"
House didn't answer, and Wilson groaned in disapproval.
"House! That is completely unnecessary – "
"So it's a little extra," House retorted. "It's not a total pay cut, and the team still gets paid as usual. What's that stupid motto you always live by? Better safe than sorry?"
"There are plenty of good home care companies out there, House."
"Yeah, with ex-hookers-turned-nurses who can't tell the difference between a syringe and a dildo." House opened his beer and took a drink, smacking his lips. "You're better off with the power-hungry African who's bored at the hospital and the good-looking Australian who's still too scared to cross me."
"I just don't think it's worth – "
"Actually, Wilson, it is – so shut up."
Wilson sighed. "You also didn't tell me about Thirteen."
"She's still on the team," House shrugged. "She's not a total goner yet."
"Except for her diminishing control over her body. Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because it was never relevant."
"Did you leave it out because she was dying? Because you didn't think I'd want to know?"
House didn't answer, and at length he simply leaned his head back and absently began to run his fingers through Wilson's hair. "Your parents still coming tomorrow?"
Reluctantly accepting that the previous conversation was over, Wilson nestled further into House's body. "As far as I know."
"Good. I'll give Stacy a ring…see if she can get over here this weekend."
Wilson nodded, finally settling into a comfortable position as the exhaustion from the day began to catch up with him. "I think I might…close my eyes. Just for a little while."
Responding with a kiss on his forehead, House reached over his shoulder to turn off the living room lamp as Wilson's head dipped in sleep.
TBC