Poison & Wine

Chapter 12

It happened several days later, the morning of Stacy's scheduled arrival.

House heard the dull thud from where he stood at the kitchen counter, ground coffee flying everywhere as he abandoned his current task and limped – hell, ran – into the bedroom. Wilson was leaning heavily over the nightstand, his right hand gripping the furniture as his left grasped the IV pole, breathing hard.

A string of questionable utterances, some not even in English, escaped House's mouth as he somehow got Wilson to let go of the nightstand and collapse back onto the bed.

"Wilson – "

"I'm…I'm fine. House – "

"Hold still."

Too weak to protest against House's examination, Wilson closed his eyes and let him have at it with the poking and prodding. "I just had to pee," he murmured. "That damn diuretic…"

"Forget the diuretic. What happened?" House pressed.

"I just…I couldn't catch my breath. But I'm fine now. Honest." To prove it, Wilson attempted a deep breath in, only to end it in a fit of coughing.

"Shit." House reached into his pocket for his cell phone, wincing as his leg screamed from his earlier efforts.

"House, honestly," Wilson sputtered between coughs. "It's been…happening…for a while now…and I - "

House's fingers paused mid-dial. "What?"

Taking a few more moments to recover, Wilson sighed, his own fingers drifting upwards to rub his temple.

"I've been short of breath for a while now," he repeated wearily. "It's nothing unexpected and I didn't want to worry you."

He could feel House's stare bearing into him – in disappointment? In acceptance? Wilson couldn't tell. Eventually House completed the phone call, muttering something to Foreman about driving over stat, and Wilson being a moron.

"I'm sorry," Wilson murmured.

"You should be," House snapped.

"No, I'm…I'm sorry."

House followed Wilson's downward line of sight, and seeing the wet puddle that had formed, he gripped his shoulder against Wilson's stunned gaze.

"It's okay," House said quietly. "It's okay, Wilson."

"I…I just…I can't," Wilson whispered, his voice breaking.

House couldn't remember the last time he could think of nothing to say.

He also couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Wilson cry.

The expression of pity on Stacy's face made House want to puke. "Jesus, Greg," she said softly.

He tapped the seat beside him with his cane, not bothering with a greeting of his own as he sipped the coffee that Foreman had brought him after leaving Wilson in Jenkins' hands. "How's Mark?" he asked.

She ignored him, sitting gingerly down as she glanced around the hospital's waiting room. "How's James?" she replied evenly.

"Just dying. No biggie." House leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, stretching out his legs and letting his cane rest across his thighs. "He probably doesn't remember that you were coming today." Turning his head to inspect her appearance, he added, "You look good."

"And you look like hell." She reached over to him, using her hand to smooth down a particularly uncooperative patch of hair. "So you swallowed that colossal pride of yours and called me, huh?" she teased gently. "You must really like the guy."

"You could say that," House muttered, swatting away her hand with a stop-mothering-me glare.

Stacy sighed, withdrawing. "I can't believe he came back after all these years, only to be…God, it's just so sad."

House shrugged. "Like you care. When's the last time you even talked to him?"

"You don't have sole custody over him," Stacy countered. "He's my friend, too. I know it's been a while, but you can't just erase that kind of history. I mean, look at the two of you – five years gone and suddenly he's back on your couch again."

"Something like that."

As if on cue, Jenkins strode into the waiting area before Stacy could reply. "Dr. House?"

"Yeah." House sat a little straighter in the chair, rolling his eyes as Stacy scrambled to stand up. "He's a doctor, not a judge," he muttered.

"Hi. I'm Stacy Warner, a friend of James," she greeted, pretending not to hear him.

"She's also a lawyer," House interrupted, "so don't go carving your initials into any organs." He shrugged as Stacy gave him a warning slap on the shoulder, and reached into his jacket pocket for another Vicodin. After the morning's hectic rush, the bottle was nearly empty.

Jenkins pretended not to notice. "Rob Jenkins, Head of Oncology. Dr. Wilson is stable, but given the fluid build-up and lung metastases, we'd like to keep him on O2 and leave the catheter in place."

"Someone's gonna be a happy camper," House grumbled.

Stacy clicked her tongue at him before turning back to Jenkins. "When can we see him?"

"He doesn't want any visitors," Jenkins admitted. "We're keeping him under observation for the next couple of hours, but he'll be released today. Dr. Cuddy will make the necessary arrangements, I'm sure."

"Home care," House clarified at Stacy's puzzled look. "Listen, doc. Let Stacy into his room."

"Dr. Wilson explicitly stated – "

"He doesn't want to see my sorry ass, but a beautiful woman might do him some good. Don't you think?"

Jenkins sighed as Stacy, though clearly flattered, rolled her eyes.

"Alright, Ms. Warner. This way, please."

Wilson glanced sharply at the door as it opened, his expression softening when he saw who had come in. "Stacy! My God, I'm sorry…you were supposed to come over today, weren't you?"

"Oh, James." Stacy scurried over in her heels, planting a kiss on his forehead and pulling the visitor's chair closer to the bed. "Nevermind that. How are you feeling?"

"Could be worse," he shrugged. "It's been a long time, hasn't it? It's good to see you."

Stacy nodded. "I hope you don't mind me being here. Your doctor said you didn't want visitors, and if you'd rather be alone, I – "

"No, no, it's fine. I'm glad you came." Wilson offered her a small, tired smile. "I just needed a break from House, that's all."

"Can I blame you?" Stacy snorted. "I can't believe you've been staying with him for as long as you have."

"I guess we manage somehow," Wilson chuckled. "But mostly, I didn't want him seeing me like this."

"Like what?" Stacy countered, but Wilson shook his head.

"Stacy, there are tubes up my nose and up my…well, you know. I know it's hard for me, but it's hard for him, too. I think we both needed a breather, even just for a few hours."

She nodded, sighing a little. "You know why House called me, but if there's anything else I can do…"

"Just the lawyer stuff would be a huge help," he assured her.

"Of course."

"It's simple, really. I don't have a lot – most of it was lost while I was away. But what savings I have…whatever it is I have left…I want it all to go to House."

"We can arrange that," Stacy said slowly. "But…isn't there anyone else? Family, friends…a girlfriend?"

"There's only House," Wilson said quietly. "There's only ever been House."

As the puzzlement in her eyes slowly turned to realization, he nodded, tentatively offering her a smile. "It's why I came back to him," he explained. "Are you…if this is making you uncomfortable…"

"Of course not." Stacy shook her head, managing a smile in return. "I guess I always should've known."

"Nothing happened between us until now," he said gently.

She took a deep breath, affectionately patting Wilson's hand. "He wouldn't have called me for anyone else, you know."

"I know."

"You're a lucky man, James. And I know that sounds like an awful thing to say, with you being so ill…but I mean it. You're a lucky man."

Wilson let his fingers curl comfortingly around her own. "You still love him, don't you?"

"Once you love Gregory House, it's a lifetime commitment," she said with a laugh. "But you get over it."

"He did love you, Stacy. You know that, right?"

"I know. Oh, I know he did. But you were always the love of his life…and everyone who knew the two of you should have seen that."

It was quiet for a few moments, and at last Wilson inhaled deeply through the cannula. "Can you ask Cuddy to be my executor?" he asked quietly. "I trust you and her to work together to make sure it's all taken care of."

Stacy nodded, giving him a peck on the cheek. "I'll get the papers drawn up and we'll talk more about it later, okay? You should get some rest."

"Okay." Wilson watched as she stood, smoothing out her skirt and re-fluffing her hair. "Thanks, Stacy."

"Thank you, James," she murmured with a smile, and quietly left the room.

The bedroom seemed smaller than usual. Too many poles and tanks and tubes, Wilson thought wearily, his eyes skimming over his surroundings as House quadruple-checked the oxygen levels and IV drip. He didn't even want to think about the drainage bag hanging over the side.

All of the furniture had been rearranged to allow for a wheeled-in hospital bed and the other necessary equipment. House had insisted that his bed be next to Wilson's ("You've all got medical degrees and you can't even play a game of Tetris?" he'd yelled), and despite the initial headaches, an acceptable solution had finally been found. Wilson had been relieved when Chase and Foreman finally left, assuming House would calm down, but the diagnostician had continued to inspect their work long after they'd gone.

At last, he grumbled, "I guess they did okay. They shouldn't have rushed it."

"They didn't rush it," Wilson sighed, for what seemed to be the umpteenth time. "They have another patient, and this is a standard set-up."

House muttered something about how Thirteen would have done a better job before collapsing onto his own bed beside him. "Stacy said she'd be coming back," he said, more audibly this time. "Went well?"

Wilson nodded. "I told her what I wanted, and I guess she'll draw up the papers and I'll sign them…and that'll be that."

"She said she had to talk to Cuddy before she left. What gives?"

"Just…legal stuff." Wilson glanced helplessly over at House's thin-lipped expression of nothing, trying to smile. "At least you got them to move the TV in here, too. The dresser-top was an excellent choice."

"Yeah." House grabbed the remote from where he'd flung it earlier on the bed, turning on the television and beginning to flip through the channels.

"Anything good on?"

He didn't answer. Eventually setting the remote down, it seemed that he had settled on the weather channel.

"Well," Wilson said. "This is certainly intriguing."

"Yep," House agreed.

"You don't want to think about anything right now, do you."

Their otherwise smooth conversation quivered slightly with a barely noticeable pause. "Nope."

Wilson nodded. He understood. "Okay," he said simply.

He almost didn't hear House's echo, lost in the background noise of smiling weathermen and images of blue skies and sunshine.

"Okay."

TBC