Chapter 5—The House and Wilson Variety Hour

House and Wilson must not have heard me open and close the bathroom door, because they continued their discussion in spite of my presence behind them.

"—someone's bound to notice you've got a teenage girl living with you," Wilson said exasperatedly.

"And your point being?"

"People might...assume things," Wilson said carefully.

House rolled his eyes. "She says she's seventeen, but she looks about twelve. People think I'm an ass, they don't think I'm a—"

I chose that moment to jump in and stop the uncomfortable conversation in its tracks. "I think all Wilson's trying to say is that it would be a good idea to come up with a cover story for why I'm living with you. An innocent cover story."

Both men turned to look at me over the back of the couch. "Innocent?" House echoed. "Live-in maid would be a decent one, right?"

Wilson sighed. "Why don't you just say that Anya's your daughter?"

House and I were both silent for a moment. Me, masquerading as House's daughter? Just...wow. It would be hard to sell though, considering we looked nothing alike.

House of course pointed this out just a moment later: "The kid looks nothing like me."

I shrugged. "Say my mother had strong genes or something," I suggested. I leaned my elbows on the back of the sofa, hovering between House and Wilson.

"It's a decent cover," Wilson pointed out.

"Yeah, just say that you knocked boots a random girl like eighteen years ago, she got pregnant and never told you, raised me until now, and then she died in a car crash," I said, coming up with the obvious string of logic. "Straight out of General Hospital, but we're probably early enough in this show's run that nobody would question it."

House considered it for a moment. "Fine. Anyone asks, and by anyone I mean Cuddy, you're my daughter," House said, as if we were deciding where to eat for dinner, not the pseudo-paternal relationship we were going to adopt for however long I remained in their universe.

Speaking of dinner...

"Okay, awesome, now, two priorities," I held up two fingers, "one, you mentioned food?" My first finger fell. "And then if we could go grab some clothes and toiletries, that would be nice."

Wilson nodded, then looked at House. "Where you want to eat?"

House narrowed his eyes at Wilson. "Any reason why you're so involved in this? The show was called House MD, not the House and Wilson Variety Hour. Or are you angling for the position of Auntie Wilson in our new cross-dimensional family?" he asked with ample amounts of sarcasm, pushing himself off of the couch. He massaged his thigh. "I want Chinese. That okay with you, Uncle Jimmy?"

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Shut up, House."

House grabbed his jacket from the couch, and scooped his keys up from the counter. "Come on," he said, limping towards the door. Wilson and I trailed behind, and Wilson gave me a small, knowing smile. He probably had an inkling of how much I was freaking out on the inside right now.

"Knees are still firm and strong," I quipped quietly, so House wouldn't hear me.

Wilson grinned. "For now."

Dinner ended up being the Chinese buffet that Wilson and House frequented in downtown Princeton. It was delicious, but gave me a very unsettling home sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. There was this Chinese place back home in Harrisburg, Lin's...Maura and I had eaten there constantly. Half my diet was their Crab Rangoon.

The initial excitement was starting to fade, replaced by thoughts of my mother and father, who I was already missing. They had no idea where I was, if I was alive...God, they're probably thinking they lost another kid.

My heart clenched. Meeting my hero, that was great. Getting to live in the world I had always wished was real, that was amazing...

But I didn't realize until now how much I took my own world for granted. I was mostly silent by about halfway through dinner and unsurprisingly, Wilson and House both noticed.

They both had their own approaches to figuring out the reasoning behind my quietness.

"Everything alright?" Wilson asked tentatively.

"Digestive system implosion hitting you a few hours early?" House asked. "Oh, the sweet, sweet taste of MSG."

"I uh, guess it just hit me...I might not be seeing my family for awhile." Or ever, I added nonverbally. Wilson watched me, caring too much. House merely continued to chew his General Tsao's.

"I'm sorry, I can't even imagine what you're going through," Wilson said gently.

I shook my head, trying to clear the funk that had settled within. I didn't like Wilson talking to me like I was one of his cancer patients. The entire fabric of my life had unraveled, yes, but I wasn't dying. "It's fine," I said stiffly. "It'll just take some adjusting, you know?" I said, forcing a smile.

Neither House nor Wilson bought the lie. I tried to get more involved in the dinner conversation after that, not wanting to be the Debbie Downer. The talk quickly drifted to what exactly could have caused me to be ripped out of my own universe and sent to this one. And this led to the conversation I was dreading having with House...the age-old 'God isn't real and life is ultimately meaningless' argument.

"House, there's no point in debating religion with you," I sighed, after I had explained my thoughts of divine intervention.

House had, predictably, immediately said I was an idiot clinging to a false god because it made me feel better about life so I didn't have to face the cold hard fact that, and I quote, "We're all just cockroaches waiting to be exterminated."

Lovely and uplifting as usual. I really didn't want to spend the rest of the night arguing, so I was trying to extinguish the situation.

"No point? I think there's definitely a point. I don't want to live with someone who's going to DVR Joel Osteen and try to drag me along to spaghetti luncheons—" he began, but I cut him off, something I noticed I was doing a lot. Oops.

"House, once again, I know you. If I thought I could convince you to give religion a shot, I would, but I know I can't convince you. I'm not going to get all up in your face about it. I'm not your typical, uppity, Bible-beating Christian," I explained tiredly, finishing off my Lo Mien. "Conversion is practically a myth, anyway. You have to want religion to find it. It doesn't find you on its own, no matter how many pamphlets the evangelicals give you."

"You don't want an argument because you don't have an argument for your side. There's no proof for your side, all the proof for my side," House insisted.

I slapped my forehead with my hand. "House, seriously?" I said. "Does it really matter if I take solace in my beliefs? I get that an intelligent religious person kind of messes with your world view, but you've got to know that nothing you say is going to change how I feel."

"I've yet to see any proof that you're intelligent, either," House said, pushing himself up and grabbing his cane. "Doesn't matter. A few weeks with me and I'll have you burning Bibles. You worship me, right? How does your God feel about that?"

"Worship's a relative term," I grumbled.

Wilson scooted out of the booth and rose to stand next to House, and I stood up as well. Wilson tossed a few dollars onto the tip tray, then looked at me with a smile. He had a glimmer in his eye. As we began to walk away, I trailed behind House.

"You think this is funny!" I accused Wilson with a hiss.

He laughed under his breath. "That's because it is," he responded. "Watching you go back and forth is interesting. You're a little bit like House, you know, if House had a soul, and hopes, and dreams..."

I couldn't suppress a smile at that.

"Just because I'm crippled doesn't mean I'm deaf!" House called as he reached the Dynasty.

Wilson slipped into the passenger seat, and I hopped into the back. House pulled out of the parking lot next to the Chinese place, and I laid down in the backseat, enjoying the fact that I didn't have my mom or dad yelling at me to put on my seat belt for the first time ever. Maybe I actually would be treated like an adult here...that was a novel thought.

"There's an outlet mall a few miles from here," Wilson said, glancing at me through the rear-view mirror. "Hey, put on your seat belt!"

I decided in that moment that my mother would love Wilson. "I have faith total faith in House's driving." At least in season one.

"Yeah, Wilson, have a little faith!" House said, jamming his foot against the gas.

I squeaked and slipped onto the floor, not having a chance to brace myself. I bashed my face off of the bottom of the driver's seat. "Fuck."

"You okay?" Wilson asked.

"Fine," I mumbled as I pushed myself back up and sat in the backseat once more, strapping myself in that time. Wilson seemed satisfied.

After driving for a few minutes, House pulled into the somewhat empty parking lot in front of the strip mall.

"Alright," House took out a wallet—his own, that time. He tossed it to Wilson. "Go get the kid whatever she needs." I unbuckled my seat belt, giving a House a questioning look as I did so, trying to hide my disappointment.

"You're not coming? It's your money."

"I'm a busy man. I've got things to do while you and Auntie Wilson shop," he said.

I shrugged. Wait, is he Uncle Jimmy or Auntie Wilson? I'm so lost. "Okay."

"We'll call you when we're done," Wilson said. House simply nodded as Wilson opened the passenger seat door. I mirrored him, getting out of the car with one backwards glance at House.

As he drove away and Wilson and I began walking towards the strip mall, I bit the inside of my lip. "Wilson?"

Wilson headed for the nearest department store. "Hmm?"

"I do need some, ah...girly stuff. And I really don't want to subject you to shopping with me. Why don't you just meet me at the checkout in an hour?"

Don't get me wrong, I liked having Wilson around, but buying bras with the guy...it was just too much, one of my favorite characters or not.

Wilson hesitated, obviously apprehensive to leave me alone. "Well..."

"Wilson, I'm nearly eighteen, I can be alone in a store."

"Alright," he acquiesced. "I'll meet you at checkout three in an hour."

"Alright, Auntie Wilson," I said with a shit-eating grin on my face. That earned me a jaded look before he headed off to a different part of the store, probably needing to do some shopping of his own.

I glanced around, realizing that it was one of my first times shopping on my own. Unless I was Christmas shopping, I was almost always with either my family or friends.

My family and friends aren't here now though, are they? I felt the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach again. Yeah, that wasn't going away anytime soon.

An hour later, I stood in line with Wilson, pushing a cart filled with everything I would need to move in with House. I tried to shop cheap, not wanting to drain House of his money. I got only the essentials. I'm sure more things would come up later that I would need, but hopefully I'd have a paying job by then.

Wilson had gotten a new tie, and I curiously wondered what he had spent the past hour doing, but decided not to ask. It took us a bit to check out, but as the cashier finished bagging our purchases, Wilson called House.

"We're done. Okay. Yeah. No, you didn't tell me to get you anything. I'm not a mind reader, House. You're going to be taking care of a teenager, House, you shouldn't—I'm not being a nag, I'm just saying—"

I tuned out Wilson's conversation with House as I loaded our bags into the cart. By the time I was done, Wilson had hung up with House.

"He wants us to pick him up a bottle of bourbon," he told me in a tired voice.

I smiled. "Of course he does."

"Right, you would know what he drinks, wouldn't you," Wilson said, taking the cart from me and pushing it out the front door.

"Yep. Scotch to ponder, bourbon to sleep. Here, I'll watch the cart, you run to the liquor store and buy him his booze."

Wilson nodded, trotting off to the liquor store farther down the line of shops. Before he had the chance to get back, House pulled up in front of me, laying hard on the horn. I let out a laugh as I pushed the cart around to House's trunk.

He came out of the driver's seat and limped around the car to meet me. "Have fun spending my money?" he asked by way of greeting as he unlocked the trunk.

"I'll pay you back," I assured him. "If you can get me a fake ID, I'll get a job as soon as I can." I began piling the bags into his trunk.

"I see no one has taught you the concept of sarcasm."

I shook my head. "No, I know you're kidding, but I'm still going to pay you back." I placed the last bag in, then shut the trunk. I looked up at House, and he watching me again. I held back a shiver, and it wasn't because of the cold. "Can I ask you something?"

"If I say no, will that stop you?"

"No. Why are you really doing this?" I narrowed my eyes at him. "You're curious, I know that. But you're also antisocial and hate anything that disrupts you going on the way you always do. I'm having a hard time believing that you're curious enough about me to make this much of a change to your life."

"And I'm having a hard time believing that you're from a different dimension where my life is a TV show, and you're just here so you can shield me from all the horrors of the world," House retorted easily, heading for the driver's side door. "Which is harder to believe?"

"Fair enough," I said, climbing into the backseat. House wasn't going to be giving me a direct answer, at least not tonight, and I'd have to live with that.

For now.

All the bags were now sitting on the couch in House's living room. Wilson and I had hauled everything in, with House getting the doors for us. I turned to say something to the boys, but they were nowhere to be seen. "Guys?" I called. The apartment door was hanging open.

"Coming!" I heard Wilson call in the distance, his voice strained. Within a few moments, Wilson appeared at the head of the stairs, hauling a small dresser with him. Meanwhile, House watched.

"A little help?" Wilson choked.

"I'm crippled," House whined.

"I think he meant me," I said, taking up the other end. Together, we moved it behind House's couch. It rendered the space even tighter, but there was still enough room to walk.

"Keep your stuff in there, away from my stuff," House said shortly.

It then clicked in my head that House had bought me the dresser. So that's what he was doing while I was shopping..."Thank you, House," I said quietly, overwhelmed by how much House and Wilson had both helped me throughout the day. I didn't want to think about what would have happened if they hadn't.

House didn't acknowledge my thanks, unsurprisingly, instead turning to Wilson. "Get out."

Wilson looked taken aback. "Why?"

"I'm tired, and I don't feel like enabling your persistent avoidance of your wife. At least not tonight. Come back during visiting hours."

"I'm not—" Wilson began defensively.

"You are," House and I chorused.

Wilson glanced between the two of us, his lips pursed. "Okay," he eventually relented. "I...guess I'll see you guys tomorrow." He lifted a finger, pointing first at House, then at me. "Don't...ruin her."

"But Mom," House complained loudly.

"Goodnight, Wilson." In spite of my better judgment, I acted on impulse and stepped forward to give him a hug. He returned it, and Fangirl Me lost her fucking mind. Hugging Wilson! HUGGING WILSON!

"Goodnight, Anya. It was nice meeting you," he told me, pulling back and grabbing his coat off of the back of the couch. He departed House's apartment, closing the door behind him and leaving me alone with my hero.