Chapter 36 – Twice for the Son

A/N: Hmph. Two rewrites and I'm still not entirely sure about this one... but I figured it wasn't fair to leave you all hanging much longer. Also: 400 reviews! Holy smokes. Thank you guys as always for all the feedback, love, and support. I'm lucky to have you. :)

Dinner turned out to be tepid coffee at an all-night diner, empty save for us and an elderly waitress.

Chase sat across from me, resolutely silent thus far.

"You do realize how hard it is for me not to just immediately pester you with questions, right?" I bounced my fingers nervously on the side of my mug.

Chase ran a hand through his hair. "I don't really know why I came," he admitted. "I... needed to talk to someone." He pursed his lips. "I'm a long way from home. I don't really have anyone here in the States."

"How many drinks did it take to make you decide that your boss's daughter was a good idea?" I asked, trying to get him to smile. His words were slurred enough that I was confident he was halfway to completely smashed, maybe closer.

"Lost count. But my boss's daughter seemed like a better option than my boss."

"What about Cameron and Foreman?"

"Just... no." He shook his head. He kept his eyes fixed on the flickering neon clock behind the counter. "Do you know?"

"You'll have to elaborate on that one."

Chase took a deep breath, seeming to brace himself. "My father's dying."

Damn. House had told him. But why? He hadn't done it in canon, and I hadn't really done anything to make him change his mind... so what made him choose to tell Chase the truth about why his father came to Princeton?

"He's only got a few months left... you know the bastard wasn't even going to tell me? Was just gonna let it be a fun surprise in a few months. Oh, by the way, mate, your dad's dead. Sorry!"

"Have you talked to your father yet?"

Chase shook his head. "No. He's planning to leave tomorrow. I say let him. He obviously doesn't want me around for his last few months on earth."

"Or he didn't want you to have to watch him die."

"I'm a doctor. I watch people die all the time."

"Not people you love."

"I've seen people I love die, too!" Chase snapped. I recoiled a little bit. He seemed to realize how harshly he'd said it. He sighed. "You know what it's like to lose a mother. So do I."

"But wouldn't you give anything to have another day with her? Even one?" Raging, destructive alcoholic or not, a mom was a mom. You only got one, and once you lost her... you never got her back.

That much was likely the same for the both of us.

He licked his lips, seeming reluctant to answer. "I– I don't know."

"Three months is a long time, if you want it to be," I said softly. I was floundering, here. How do you comfort someone who just found out their father was dying? It would be easier if Chase actually had a relationship with his father, but there was so much poison coursing between the two of them...

Chase buried his face in his hands. "He doesn't even know that I know." His hands clasped together, tightening into fists, and he rested his forehead against them. "I've spent years– years! – training myself not to give a damn. What the hell am I supposed to do now?"

"You still love him. He's your father. And Chase... there are a lot of oncologists in the world. He chose here for a reason. He wanted to see you." I stared at the cracked granite tabletop, weighing each word and its impact. When anything you say might have a potential affect on the future, you have to be careful when you speak.

It's a little terrifying, sometimes.

"It's up to you," I said carefully. "But... it's your last chance to have something good with him. To reconcile. I don't want you to regret giving up that chance."

He looked at me, eyes blurred by intoxication holding the faintest hint of amusement. "You're awfully smart for a teenager."

"Well, look at who my dad is." I shrugged. "It's no big surprise, is it?"

He smirked weakly into his coffee. "S'pose it isn't."

We sat in silence, for a time, nursing our coffee. A neon sign proclaiming "Hot Drinks" flickered nearby, a wavering buzz-buzz. With the emptiness of the diner and the quiet between us, every other sound seemed too loud. Every tap of the waitress's lacquered red nails on the surface of the front counter seemed explosively noisy.

I searched for something, anything to say. It'll be okay. Everything's alright. At least you still have time.

Platitudes. Part of being an adult was the simple fact that no, it wasn't going to be okay. A harsh reality that I'd learned when I'd lost my brother. There were times when "okay" was taken away from you overnight, and it didn't return for a long, long while... if it ever returned at all.

I watched Chase, my chest tight. He looked a hell of a lot older than twenty-six.

"He walked out on us." He said it so suddenly, I gave a subtle flinch. I met his eyes. "Mum... she couldn't even take care of herself. Let alone us. We... 'Liza, she ran away from it. She was never home, if she could avoid it. Me, I tried to help her. Held her hair back when she puked out her guts, cleaned up the house when she went ballistic, tried to..." He grimaced. "Tried to step into my father's role. But I was fifteen. How was I supposed to do that?"

He pushed away his coffee, looking out the window to the empty street outside. "I called him. I called him a thousand times. She stopped breathing once, started having seizures. I called him, and just like all the other times, he never picked up. She wasn't his responsibility anymore, not to him. Neither were my sister and I."

Chase's jaw worked, and I could see unshed tears in his eyes. "A part of me's happy he's dying. Is that sick? Does that... does it make me sick?"

"No," I told him with a shake of my head. "It makes you human."

Our impromptu coffee run ended shortly afterwards. We made the brief, chilly walk back to our cars side by side, a slight stumble in Chase's steps. Whatever he'd drank, it had been strong, and he'd had a lot of it. He reeked like a bar, certainly. I wrapped a hand around his arm to steady him. He didn't comment on it.

We made it back to our cars, and Chase turned to me.

"I..." He seemed at a loss. "Thanks. I needed..." He gestured vaguely into the air. "This."

"What are friends for?" I asked, giving him a small smile that was probably barely discernible in the faint illumination the nearby streetlight provided us.

"Yeah... yeah."

We looked at each other, and after a moment's deliberation, I wrapped my arms around his middle and gave him what I hoped was a reassuring hug. Chase hesitated, but then he draped his arms over my shoulders and gave me a gentle squeeze back.

Fangirl Me, from the Great Beyond, gave a raucous cheer.

"You have my number," I reminded him. "I've got your back, no matter what you decide to do."

"Thank you, Anya," he said thickly, and I felt heat building in my eyes. Ah, jeez. Living in this universe had really put a dent in my emotional armor.

We parted from one another without another word, and he made his way through the dark to his parked car. I turned back to House's car that I'd borrowed, wishing there was something more I could do for him.

Some things we just have to face by ourselves.

Still, I hoped that this would have positive ramifications on the future. Kayla would live now, right? So long as I was careful to keep Chase from the clinic... I made a mental note to speak to House about that.

I started the car and headed home.

There were a lot of things I needed to talk to House about.

I didn't get back to the apartment on Baker Street until well past one in the morning. Exhaustion both emotional and physical dragged at my limbs as I stomped up the front stairs. I hoped that House would be asleep, but knowing me, I wouldn't be that lucky. Quietly, I turned the knob of the apartment door. House almost never locked it, unless he had reason to. I pushed in, sticking my head through the door.

On the couch sat House, feet up on the coffee table, focused on the TV. I could tell, though, that he'd been waiting up for me. No bourbon in sight meant he wasn't planning on sleeping soon. I sighed, letting myself in and kicking the door shut behind me. I took off my jacket and hung it up, not making eye contact with him.

"I can feel you staring at me," I said. "Sorry I'm home late. Something came up."

"Ms. Pathological Honestly being dishonest? Interesting."

"It's not my place to talk about it. Speaking of, you've been talking about a lot of things lately that it's not really your place to talk about." I turned to him, crossing my arms. "You told Chase, didn't you?"

"I didn't tell him anything about his rapidly dying daddy. Don't look at me," House said. "He did leave the hospital in a haze of melodramatic tears, though... guess I should've figured somebody dropped that bomb on him."

My brow furrowed. Why would House bother lying to me? "You're the only one who could've told him."

"Am I?"

"Yes!"

"You were going to tell him," House said matter-of-factly, a knowing look in his eyes. "You've been walking around the past couple of days like you lost your favorite Knuffle bunny. I knew there was something coming up that was bothering you. Telling Chase his dad's about to bite it certainly qualifies."

"Yeah. I was going to tell him. Because in the show, you didn't. What changed?"

"I didn't tell him," House repeated.

Frustrated, I burst out, "Then who did?"

House gave me an almost disappointed look, as if it was very, very sad that I hadn't already figured it out for myself.

"Only three people knew. Process of elimination: you didn't tell him, and I didn't tell him, therefore..."

My eyes widened as the realization slammed into me: "Wilson."

I went to the hospital early the next morning with only one priority in mind.

I knocked on the door of Wilson's office, waiting for an answer. When I received none, I jiggled the doorknob. Unlocked. Excellent. I slipped inside, surprised to find Wilson thoroughly asleep on his couch. His tie and suit jacket from the day before lie folded on his desk. He had his arm slung over his eyes, blocking out the light from the wide windows. His socked feet rested on one arm of the couch, as he was unfortunately too tall to completely fit on it.

I checked the time. Ten past eight. Had Wilson slept here?

His mouth hung open. He snored in rhythm with his rising and falling chest. It was actually kind of adorable.

Still, I wanted my answers, and I was far too impatient to wait. I went to his side, sliding down to my knees next to the sleeping oncologist. I gently shook his shoulder. "Wilson, hey. Wake up."

He grumbled something deep in his throat, turning away from me. I reached up a hand and ruffled his already messy hair. "Wilson!"

His eyes split open that time, a hazy brown under half-closed eyelids. He turned his head just enough to look at me. "Anya?" he murmured, confused.

"I hate to interrupt your beauty sleep, but I need to talk to you."

Wilson's vision seemed to clear, and understanding dawned on his previously lost expression. With a great heave, he pushed himself up, the thin blanket he'd been curled up under slipping off and piling in a heap on the floor. I rose to my feet just as he swung his legs over the side of the couch. Hand running through his hair, he looked up at me, apprehension on his features.

"I have a feeling it's too early for whatever this conversation is going to be."

"Well, I'll start out with something easier, then." I spread out my hands, indicating his disheveled state and the couch. "Did you sleep here last night?"

"I was in late, had some paperwork to finish up. I didn't see the point of going home."

Didn't see the point of going home? Right. "Problems with Julie?"

His eyes took on a surprising sharpness. "Anya. Don't."

I took the warning for what it was. I wouldn't push him. Not today. Not to mention, we had other matters to discuss.

"Alright." I held up my hands innocently. "That's not what I came here to talk about, anyway. You... you did something."

He frowned, saying nothing.

"Wilson, you told Chase his father was dying."

Still nothing from the oncologist.

"Do you have any idea the kind of trouble you could get in for that?" I asked tersely, searching for some kind of reaction from Wilson, trying to get him to meet my eyes. "You violated doctor/patient confidentiality. If Rowan finds out–"

"He won't," Wilson cut across me, finally stirred into speaking. "Chase won't tell his father who let him in on it, and Rowan will assume it was House."

"That's best case scenario. A lot could go wrong, and it would fall on you."

"No one with less than half a year to live is going to waste what time they have left suing the doctor who told their son they were dying," Wilson reasoned tiredly. He gently moved me to the side so he could stand. He stretched, and I heard more than a few of his bones pop and creak.

"Your credibility would be shot if anyone found out."

"It was a risk I was willing to take," he said as he went to his desk, scooping up his tie and looping it around his head.

"Why? I was going to tell him anyway! You didn't need to step in."

Back still to me, he went about tying his tie. "No eighteen year old should have to tell someone their father is dying. If you really want to be a doctor, there will be dozens, hundreds of times where you'll have to do just that." He paused, and I could almost hear the lump in his throat. "The first time, there's this chunk of yourself that you lose. It's hard to explain. But you don't need to lose that. Not yet."

"You..." I was stunned. "You told him so I wouldn't have to?"

Wilson finished the double Windsor knot. He sighed, leaning against his desk. "Yeah. I did."

I sat down hard on the couch. "Wilson. You... no. You can't just... no!"

"No what?"

"This could've come back on you! Hard!" I exclaimed. "I'm not your responsibility. You don't have to jump in front of bullets for me. I'm here to do the saving, or whatever. It can't be the other way around." I leaned back, thumping my head against the ridge of the couch. "You and House can't do this. You can't try to take away all the difficult choices... you..."

You don't need to protect me.

"Anya, I know that you look at yourself as an adult. Legally, you are one. But you have to understand that to me, and to House, too, I think... you're still a kid. You're a kid, who got thrown through some inexplicable rip in the fabric of the universe, and ended up here. The future knowledge, it's the kind of thing that would break someone my age. I don't know how you're managing it. No eighteen year old should carry a burden like this. Neither of us can completely take it off of you, unfortunately... But we can help you. This was me, helping. And unlike House, I'll actually cop to it."

I was almost speechless. Key word being almost. "I guess I never factored that in," I said, more to myself than Wilson.

Wilson's brow furrowed. "Factored what in?"

"The fact that maybe you and House might end up caring about me," I admitted. It never really registered with me that they would form any kind of attachment to me. With House, the verdict was still out – half the time I couldn't even tell if he actually liked me being around or not. Wilson, however, had made his care obvious. Chase and Cameron, too, in their own ways.

I never expected to really become a part of this universe. I always thought I would be an outside observer, a metaphorical guardian angel, interfering when necessary but never really embedding myself in the fabric of the world around me. And yet, here I was, sitting in Wilson's office, chastising him for risking a huge career hit, one he took for the pure purpose of sheltering me from what was perhaps the harshest truth of being a doctor.

Chase had come to me when he'd found out about his father. Cameron had trusted me enough to tell me about her husband. House had tried to protect me from the consequences of my choices in Fidelity; he'd been at my side and listened without judgment when I told him about Patrick. Wilson had been looking out for me all this time, and had just done something for me that I didn't deserve in any way, shape or form.

Theoretically, all anecdotal evidence would imply that... that they cared about me.

Something I'd never planned for.

And something that could be very, very dangerous indeed.