Taking Chances

Wilson arrived relatively empty handed. House was expecting a little more than a bag of take out food. Why couldn't any of his visitors remember his book bag? As a matter of fact, he couldn't place the last time he had it. Crap! Maybe it was in the back of Cindy's SUV. He hoped it was in the vehicle, otherwise it had been forgotten on the street.

"Whatcha got for me?" Judging by the look on Wilson's face, Greg figured the minute his mouth opened, the gushing would begin. Might as well start the conversation right off the bat.

"A Reuben, just the way you like it."

"You don't happen to know the whereabouts of my backpack." Greg grabbed the Styrofoam container and popped it open, eyes wide with wonderment only a dry Reuben could bring. "I've been starving for one of these. Thanks."

"Glad I could help you out." Wilson took a seat next to the bed. He wasn't sure where to start the conversation.

House broke the ice. "My Team have any good cases?"

"Nothing they haven't been able to handle."

"So I take it my stuff's gone."

"What stuff?"

"The contents of my backpack."

"Oh, that. Yeah…well, you'll have to replace it."

House sighed sadly. "Oh well. Weren't nothing in there anyways."

"I tried to salvage the New England Journal of Medicine and the Hustler, but the pages were all stuck together after they dried. The PSP was crunched along with your glasses."

"No big loss, I guess."

"As long as we don't lose you, we're good."

House furrowed his brow. "Why are you and Cuddy worried? This isn't the first time I fall down go boom. Chances are it won't bet he last time, either."

"Pardon us for caring whether you live or die," Wilson said as he jumped to his feet and began pacing.

House knew from his conversations with Thirteen that Wilson had been racked with guilt. It was fun to watch him dance around the issues he really wanted to address with House, and Greg played on that.

"So…what's on your mind, Jimmy-boy?

Wilson continued to pace, assumingly collecting his thoughts and strategizing how to approach the topic. Greg watched him stew, satisfied in the knowledge that Wilson was agonizing over his own decisions and not his friend's well-being.

The pacing was getting annoying. "Relax, Wilson, you're not guilty of anything." House said it not because he meant it, but because he knew his friend needed to hear it.

Wilson stopped, finding himself on the other side of the room. He faced his friend, a grateful smile on his face. "You're like the boy who cries wolf when you're needy."

"Don't forget, in my version, in the end, the boy and his family get eaten by the wolf."

"I forget that in the 'world of House' you learned 'fractured fairytales'."

"The price of having the father I had."

"So maybe we should have a code word for when the wolf has started eating you. That way I'll know to drop my life and come rescue you." James could already see the fault in that logic.

"I would have thought 'I'm in pain' would be enough." House's tone was harsh without meaning to be.

"I know. I realized it after I hung up. I called back but you didn't answer. I came to see you, but you were already gone." Wilson's explanation was lame and he knew it. He also knew House wasn't looking for an apology. He was in need of a reason to trust again.

Greg lay there, so many snide remarks on the tip of his tongue, that he was surprised they didn't drop off like little cluster bombs. He was aware of Wilson's deep seeded need to be there for people ever since his brother disappeared from his life. Telling Wilson he was not his brother's keeper was moot. It wouldn't change who he had become and how he would react to people he thought he could help. Hell, he'd given a lobe of his liver to a practical stranger.

Wilson returned to the chair, curious as to why his friend remained silent for so long. Could it be that he was censoring himself? Maybe he was just choosing his words carefully in order to inflict the most damage.

"This is ridiculous."

Wilson looked up at him.

"Stop sulking. Do you think I would have dropped everything if it had been you calling me?"

"No. But then I wouldn't expect you to. You, on the other hand-"

"See, that's where your thinking goes wonky. What I think or expect is my problem. I can try make it your problem, but only you can take on the responsibility. You give me way too much power."

"But-"

"Growing up I had only myself to rely on. When I did find people to associate with, I tended to use them. Not because I could, because I never learned that whole give and take thing. I didn't seem to matter as my dad would get shipped out and I'd move on to new people. Nobody ever stayed around long enough to set limits. People like you, Stacy and Cuddy put up with me. Stacy left because she needed to be needed. But you and Cuddy…it's like your gluttons for punishment."

"So this week of being incommunicado was punishment?"

"It would seem that way. Initially I was peeved that you ditched me." He frowned as Wilson flinched with his words. "But then it became less about anyone else and more about me."

"It's always about you, House."

"I am the most important person in the world to me. Anyway, that's not what I mean. I was embarrassed about being a klutz. Furthermore, I didn't even realize I was in serious trouble. Then I end up in this magical place with strangers willing to help me without any backlash. No one cared who or what my history was. It was like I had a clean slate and a chance to try some coping mechanisms I've learned. I was successful. And kind of proud of myself for going it alone."

"I'm glad you feel that way." Wilson nodded. "But don't forget Thirteen was involved."

There is was, House sighed. "Don't do that, Jimmy."

"Do what?"

"Cheapen what I'm feelings by discounting it. I'm struggling to be honest and forthright. You're reaction is to point out that it isn't as valid as I think it is."

"We do it to each other all the time. It's banter, for god sakes."

"I'm finding that all the negativity is dragging on me lately. It's like my oily duck feathers have been plucked away. Stuff's just not rolling off like it used to."

Wilson felt like the man in the bed was a complete stranger. What drugs had they given him to make the cranky old man wishy-washy? Hopefully the new and improved House was only a temporary thing.

"I feel like no matter what I say to you will be misconstrued as patronizing," Wilson confessed. "I'm a little disconcerted by whatever THIS is," he gestured, referring to everything and anything.

Wilson only stayed a few moments longer. Greg didn't have much else to say to him out loud. The tension in the room became unbearable. So before either one of them could snipe, he made an excuse and left.

Greg didn't want to let his friend's insecurities bother him, but it wasn't easy. It never was. He was just better at keeping his emotions bottled up instead of talking about the things that pissed him off. Somehow, with most of his colleagues, snarkiness was the only way anyone would take what he said seriously. When he was somewhat polite and direct, people assumed he was in an altered state. It made House's attempts at behavior modification seem futile. It was one point he needed to take up with Nolan at their next meeting.

For now he could replay the scene in his head just to dwell on it, or he could distract himself with something else. Unfortunately there wasn't a lot of something else. He did have one thing, though.

Greg pulled the napkin out from under the blanket. He snorted back a laugh as he treated the piece of paper like a secret love note. He wanted to call her, but not to vent. Would she be upset if he called but didn't complain? Was that even possible for him?

He had the receiver in his hand and was dialing. What would he say? But there was no time to answer that as Cindy picked up.

"Hey, it's Greg."

"You sound bummed." She plopped down on her sofa, careful not to drop her bowl of cereal while cradling her cell phone between her ear and shoulder.

"This is usually how I sound after a conversation with Wilson."

"Everything go okay?"

"The usual."

"That's what you expected, wasn't it?" Greg's sigh was audible over the phone. "Don't give him that kind of authority. You let him suck the life force right out of you."

"I didn't mean to." House fiddled with the phone cord. "It just kind of happens."

"I get it. Same thing happens to me when I talk to a few of my so-called friends."

"What do you do about it?"

"Same thing you do," she laughed nervously.

"You're no help," he scoffed.

"If it's help you're looking for, you've come to the wrong place. A friend on the other hand…"

"Friends are good. I'm told you can never have enough of them."

"Well now, I wouldn't go that far."

"What are you wearing?"

Cindy spit out a mouthful of cereal. "Uh, not exactly the kind of question you ask a friend."

House scrunched up his face realizing he just blew it. "Sorry, bad habit."

Cindy was laughing, and he wasn't sure why. He gave her a moment to catch her breath.

"You obviously find me charming."

"Charming? Don't know if I'd use that exact word."

"How would you describe me?"

"Interesting. Definitely interesting."