new chapter, where you'll find out what a man like House can do when he's hurt...

** CHAPTER 49 **

Wilson had decided to leave House alone the first day. So, he didn't call. He, too, knew about the dangerous appeal of that intoxicating spiral, and toward what kind of attractive, convenient numbness it would lead his friend.

He'd watched House flirt with that black hole before. There was not much he could do. It was a vicious circle, and somehow, it had to be completed. When Amber had died, Wilson had thought about letting himself go down like that, too. Drown in his own tears… but it was pointless eventually. And it hadn't helped. So, he chose to leave House alone, for he knew he would come to the same conclusion by himself.

He felt helpless anyway, and the very image of his friend so hurt and lost was too much to bear. Maybe, there was an awful selfishness in his reluctance to see House because truth is, he was tired of always being the comforting guy in their friendship. Still, Wilson was Wilson, and he couldn't pretend not to care for too long.

The second day, however, he held back the urge to go see House and tried to call to check if everything was ok, instead. His call got straight to voicemail which didn't surprise him at first. He left several messages but still got no answers, so he started worrying a little.

In any other circumstances, he would have gone there, but at the hospital, since no one was really aware of what was happening, there still were tons of things to deal with, no matter how strongly he would try and ignore them.

Consequently, Wilson couldn't escape his duty, especially since, in Cuddy's absence, he had even ended up taking responsibilities that weren't initially part of his job. But he had no choice. Cuddy had been gone for four days, and although it was not uncommon of her to be absent for that long, there were still things that needed to be dealt with.

By the end of the day, after having made several decisions that he was not used to making, and having dealt with an incredible amount of countless, stressful matters, Wilson finally left the hospital, exhausted but satisfied of the work done. His car naturally drove him to House's place, almost unconsciously. He parked in front of his building and sighed in relief when he saw the lights on through the living room's windows.

He knocked and after a short while, the door opened, revealing a woman. She flashed a warm smile at him but remained silent, just standing there, and waiting for Wilson to say something. She was wearing a lab coat which, considering its very close-fitting cut, was not a real lab coat at all, but on the other hand, seemed to be the only thing she was actually wearing.

Wilson's mouth hung opened in shock and he stood at the threshold, completely flabbergasted, looking at her and refusing to acknowledge what she probably was, while it was quite obvious that she could be nothing other than a hooker. Still holding the doorknob in her hand, the "home nurse" turned her head toward the hallway.

"It's a guy!" she shouted, and finally let go of the door, moving to the side to clear the way.

Wilson stepped inside and instantly spotted House as he was approaching the entry, and still finishing zipping up his pants. He wasn't carrying his cane with him and was limping with obvious difficulty.

"Wilson, I knew it was you!" he chanted sarcastically. "Of course, the good, concerned Samaritan who had to check up on his friend! Who else could it be, right? But see? I'm fine! You can go now-"

"House! What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm taking care of myself! That's what I'm doing. What do you think it is?"

The girl was still standing at the open door between the two men, and she seemed uneasy to be trapped in the middle of that discomforting scene which she apparently refused to be part of.

"Erm, excuse me," she said, clearing her throat. "Do you guys plan to do something? Because I-"

"Oh no, stay!" Wilson exclaimed, shooting a fuming glare at House. "I'm going. I don't want to interrupt whatever it is you were doing before I arrived."

"I'm here for-" the girl started but House cut her short.

"That's ok. Just take your stuff and leave now," he said to her but with his gaze fixated on Wilson.

"Ok," the girl answered, with a hint of relief in her voice.

And she went off toward the bedroom at a trot.

Wilson puffed and shook his head, a sickened look on his face. He kept staring at House until the girl reappeared in the entry with her coat on and a sport's bag on her shoulder. She hesitantly stood at the door, visibly not knowing what to say.

"I hope it'll help you feel a little better," she said softly, looking at House.

"Yeah, let's hope that!" he answered sarcastically. He met Wilson's judgmental stare again and lowered his eyes. "Thank you," he self-consciously added to the girl.

She nodded and promptly got out, closing the door behind her.

House immediately headed toward his couch, where he sat down conspicuously ignoring Wilson's presence.

"Dammit House, don't tell me she is what I think she is!" he exclaimed, catching up with his friend and standing in front of him with a look of true disappointment on his face.

"Oh, but she is," House answered calmly, pouring himself a glass of Bourbon. He held the bottle up to his friend. "Wanna share a drink with your old friend?" he added with a slightly provoking grin.

Wilson stared at him, completely aghast, and remained standing, with his hands on his hips.

"You slept with a hooker?" he spat accusingly, waving off his offer. "Cuddy just left and next thing you do is get drunk and sleep with a hooker?"

He looked really upset, yet House sustained his glare, unfazed, and slowly put the bottle down on the table.

"Aww, Wilson!" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Life's such a bitch, right? But what's so shocking about it? Like you said: Cuddy left! She cancelled her appointment and she left! At least with hookers, things are simpler: You're not surprised to see them leave because that's what you pay them for!"

The tone was harsh and spiteful, but it didn't fool Wilson. Eventually, he could still see the vivid pain hidden behind House's desperate cynicism. As there was no point in arguing, he sighed resignedly and finally sat on the sofa next to his friend. Without a word, he grabbed the bottle, uncapped it and swallowed a large gulp out of it. Then he put it back on the table and sighed again.

"Is it me or does she have a little resemblance with Lolita Monica, that ingenuous blond nurse from General Hospital?" he said looking straight ahead. "Is it the reason why you hired her?"

Almost in spite of himself, House exhaled a quiet laugh.

"You're an idiot. First of all, it's Luisa Maria, not Lolita-I-don't-know-what-stupid-name-you-just-came-up-with! And secondly, ingenuous nurses are really not the kind I'm fantasizing about-"

"You don't need to justify yourself. I guess that's none of my business anyway-"

"If it were about role playing, at least, I'd have chosen the brunette working girl type-"

House stopped in the middle of his sentence and looked away. A heavy silence settled in the room.

"I didn't have sex with that girl," he added unexpectedly, still avoiding his friend's gaze. "I hired her to massage my thigh. She's just a hooker with useful extra skills-"

"Oh, ok!" Wilson said a little embarrassed. "So does that mean your pain is getting worse?"

House jerked his head to the side and shot Wilson a distraught glare that said more than words would have: Everything was lying under that glare, admitting how unbearable the pain indeed was. That glare spoke of the pain in his thigh, but above all, it spoke of the other pain… the one no massage, or alcohol, not even pills could make go away.

Wilson looked down to avoid House's gaze and stared at his feet sheepishly, not knowing what to say. A long, quiet moment passed, while the two friends both sat completely silent, each of them trying to process the new reality of Cuddy's absence, and the impact it would have and was already having on their lives.

"I need a Vicodin prescription," House suddenly said, breaking the silence.

Wilson sighed resignedly. He rummaged in his coat's pocket and took his prescription pad. After having hastily scribbled the drug prescription, he ripped off the sheet of paper and handed it over House.

"Here," he mumbled, cursing himself for enabling his friend's addiction. "Just don't take too many."

"Yeah, 'right mom," House snarled, taking the paper and hastily putting it inside his pocket.

He leaned down toward the table and took the bottle of Bourbon to pour himself another drink. Wilson watched him and noticed his shaky hand when he brought the glass up to his mouth and drank. He tried to repress the puff and looked away, feeling embittered.

"Foreman came to see me," he said, changing the subject. "I'm supposed to update you on your patient-"

"And?"

"He has Lymphadenopathy."

"As a complication of lung abscess?" House asked, raising an eyebrow.

"How would I know? It's your patient not mine!" Wilson puffed annoyed.

House put his head inside his hands and rubbed his forehead pensively.

"Sarcoidosis," he announced after a brief moment. "Put him on corticosteroid and he'll be fine."

"Foreman says Whipple's Disease."

"Yeah, coz Foreman likes to disagree with me! Tell him he should've stayed at Mercy if he wanted to run his own Department of Diagnostic Medicine."

"House! You've barely followed that case, you-"

"Then why are you asking me? Foreman came to you, which means he's just as helpless as you are to solve that case."

"Or maybe he came to me because he knew I would tell you about it so that was just his way of following the protocol and submit his medical decisions to you-"

"Oh pleaaase!" House exclaimed, rolling his eyes. "Just tell Foreman to put the damn guy on corticosteroid, that's all!"

Wilson closed his eyes and took a deep breath, mentally counting to ten to calm down.

"Fine. You're right. After all, this is your Department … I just hope you know what you're doing."

"Or else what? Patient will die? Family will sue? Cuddy will be pissed off? Oh no wait, scratch that last part! She can't be because she's not here! Because she doesn't care, you see! She doesn't care about what happens."

"House, you should-"

"What? I should what?" he shouted edgily. "I should do nothing, that's what! I tried, ok? I fucking tried and she's gone! So now there's nothing left to be done."

Wilson bit his lip and shook his head. It hurt him to see his friend in such misery and pain. But there was nothing he could do, indeed. He glanced at House and stood up. He already knew the answer, but he still asked, nonetheless.

"Do you want me to stay?"

House pretended to contemplate the offer for a while and forced a smile.

"No. Just go home. If I needed a nurse, I'd call your Lola Marina, or whatever!"

"Lolita Monica!" Wilson corrected forcing a grin, too. "And I just suggested a name! I know no Lola or Lolita for real!"

"Sure! That's coz yours are not the exotic type," he teased.

Wilson opened his mouth but stopped before he added anything. He just stared at his friend instead.

"Ok. Well, don't … drink too much," he said pointing the bottle with his chin. "And try not to mix this with too many pills."

"Yeah, right. You already told me that."

"Good night, House."

"Good night, Wilson."

Wilson smiled reassuringly at his friend one last time and then started to head toward the door. When his hand was on the knob, he heard House call him back. He turned around and arched his eyebrows quizzically.

"Thank you," House simply said to him in a soft voice.

Wilson looked at him and silently nodded before turning on his heel and leaving the apartment.

Once outside, he got into his car and sat behind the steering wheel, staring blankly into the dark night, without turning the engine on. Images of House's torn apart face popped into his mind. He set his lips, feeling the anger pervade him. Acting on impulse, he put his hand in his jacket's pocket and took his phone.

"Cuddy, it's me, Wilson … I don't know what the hell it is that you're doing right now and that's probably none of my business anyway … but I just think you should know that House is … well … let's say he hasn't taken your little runaway very good… he misses you … Maybe that's not what he told you but … God! You two are truly worse than stupid, stubborn children! … Just give him some news… Cuddy, please."

A/N

I apologize for the stress I've been causing you with Cuddy's mysterious disappearance... I promise you that you'll hear from her soon... but most of all, I can tell you that, at some point, you'll know what this is all about and (I'm sure) you'll forgive me... :)

I'm not a sadistic person, but still, I have to admit that those chapters are among my favorites in the story, and your comments on them are a real reward to me... please don't stop sharing your thoughts!

have a lovely day ~ maya

["lurker()" I'm sorry to have nothing more interesting to say within my chapters. however, I sincerely appreciate the real dedication with which you are friendly and sort of faithfully complaining about it! :) ]