Chapter 42 – It's Quiet Uptown

I froze against the wall, eyes going wide. I flattened my palms against the glass. Maybe if I just went church-mouse quiet, House would think he'd just imagined me eavesdropping on he and Wilson's conversation.

My dreams were shattered mere seconds later when the two of them rounded the corner, stopping about two feet from me. House looked amused, while Wilson's mouth was pursed into a thin line of concern.

"How much of that did you hear?" Wilson asked.

House answered for me: "All of it."

Wilson shot House a look. "And you didn't say anything before now?"

"I wanted to see how long it would take you to notice... and you didn't, so," House made a fart sound. "But let's get down to brass tacks." House's eyes met mine, and I wish I could've shrank further back against the wall. "Do the big bad mobsters scare you? Do you want to go stay with Auntie Wilson until this case is over? Or they put a hit out on me and the FBI moves me into witness protection, whichever comes first."

"This isn't funny," Wilson insisted.

"It's a little funny," House argued before switching his attention back to me. "What's it going to be?"

"No pressure or anything, right?" I hated that the two of them had decided to just pin me down like this, though I definitely blamed House for that fact more than Wilson. I finally stopped trying to force my body imprint into the wall, pushing myself up to my full height. "Wilson, listen, your home environment is kind of... volatile, as is. Are you sure you want to throw me into the mix?"

Hadn't that been the whole reason I hadn't stayed with Wilson in the first place? Because shacking up with he and his wife, who only grudgingly toleratef each other at best, seemed like a decidedly not good idea?

But this would only be a for a few days. Surely it couldn't be that bad. And if it would put Wilson's mind at ease, then maybe it was for the best.

Then again, it would be waste of time, wouldn't it? House never actually earned the mob's ire during the course of the episode. Hell, he'd earned their overwhelming approval, if the '65 Corvette Joey's brother had given him was any indication. I tried to recall the course of actions that had led to the obvious graft...

House left the fact that they were treating for Hep C out of the charts, didn't he? So word wouldn't get out about it... ruin Joey's "manhood"...

While Joey did have Hep C, it hadn't been the main issue in the end. But the only one who had really paid for that diagnosis had been Chase, who Joey's brother (I honestly couldn't remember his name) had slapped across the face at the very suggestion that his brother could possibly be gay.

Wait.

Chase suggested Hep C, didn't he?

If Chase didn't raise the idea in the differential, House would just disregard the positive Hep C result, given the acute onset of Joey's symptoms, then they wouldn't have to treat for it (and subsequently chart it), House wouldn't agree not to chart it...

So, the one thing that had solidified House in the mob's good books was no longer set to happen, not with Chase on the other side of the globe. Which meant that anything could happen. And I wasn't sure as to whether we were past the point where me putting in Hep C as a possible diagnosis would be able to set things back on track, or just interfere more with the timeline.

"Anya?"

I snapped back to reality. Wilson was waving his hand in front of my face. I blinked a few times, trying to reorient myself.

"House, what's up with your patient?"

Wilson gave me a look. "Did you hear anything the two of us just said?"

"Full disclosure? Not really," I said, distracted.

"Don Corlione just had a liver biopsy. We're waiting for the results. Frick, Frack, and Black are off doing the boring base-covering doctor stuff that they get paid to do, so I don't have to. Why?" House narrowed his eyes at me.

Then we were already past the point of no return, if they'd made it that far. I had no way to predict what would change because of this. Which meant that anything could happen, and I'd be foolish if I didn't consider the fact that something could go wrong surrounding Joey and his brother.

I tried to think on my feet, because House and Wilson were both staring at me, waiting for an answer. I didn't particularly want to stay with Wilson and Julie, but...

"Yeah, um. Sure. I'll stay. Just until the case is over. If you're sure Julie won't mind," I added, for good measure.

"You changed your mind." House pointed an accusing finger at me. "Something's happened already that makes you think this is going to go south."

"No!" I insisted. "I mean, things are already so off at this point, that I don't really know what's going to happen. But it's better to be safe than sorry, right? It'd be best if Joey's brother doesn't know about me at all. I'll stay on the down-low. It couldn't do any harm, right?"

"You're scared," House said immediately.

"I'm not. There's a difference between scared and cautious."

"Yeah, one of them is a euphemism."

"You gonna miss me?" I challenged him, a hint of a smirk working its way to my lips.

"Not even a little. I can finally have hookers over again."

I winced. "Not on my couch, please."

"Your couch–"

"Anya, are you sure you're okay with this?" Wilson cut across House.

"If you and Julie are okay with it, I'm okay with it." I let out a little nervous laugh. "I finally get to meet Julie!"

"The first and last person to say that with a smile," House muttered.

Wilson side-eyed House with annoyance. "If you want to stop over later, Anya, we'll get you settled in. You'll have the guest room to yourself."

"A whole room," I mused. "That'll be a change."

"I'm sorry, who begged me on her hands and knees to let her with me?"

"I was not on my hands and knees."

"You begged," House repeated.

"Fair enough." I lifted my hands. "Wilson, I'll be over later. And thank you, by the way. It's nice to know I've got you looking out for me."

"Well, someone has to." Wilson shot House a pointed look, then headed for the door. "I'll see you tonight," he called over his shoulder.

As soon as the differential room door shut behind him, House rolled his eyes. "Always looking for sick puppy to take in. I don't get why he's not dating Cameron."

"He's way too functional for her," I replied. "I still don't believe you're sleeping with her."

"And once again, I offer the sex-tape..."

"Just... ew." I walked into House's office, and he tailed behind me. "How did you know I was eavesdropping, by the way? I tried to be quiet."

"You got out of work fifteen minutes ago. You've been running here every chance you get since Chase left, so you can play doctor with my team..." He shrugged. "And I heard the door creak when you opened it. But most of it was Sherlockian level deduction, I assure you."

"Says the character created to be a Sherlock Holmes analogue. That's meta as hell," I commented, seating myself in the Eames chair while House rounded his desk. He sank down into his chair, logged onto his computer, and promptly ignored me for the next five minutes.

I played Tetris on my phone, waiting for him to say something. Specifically for him to say something about the reason I'd broken the speed limit all the way to the hospital in the first place: Vogler.

I didn't get why House wasn't saying anything. Eventually, I spoke up. "Look... you get that I'm coming back, right?"

House didn't look at me. "Gregory House isn't available at the moment. Try again later when he's finished watching Busty Asian Beauties 13."

"House, I'm serious."

"So am I."

I sighed, flipping my phone closed and stuffing it in my pocket. "It's only for a couple of days. You barely like having me around, anyway."

"Do you hear me complaining?"

I frowned. Okay, maybe I'd been hoping just a bit that he'd argue with me on the "barely like having me around" thing. Naive, I know.

"Okay, fine. If you don't want to talk about it, we won't talk about it. Let's talk about the one hundred million dollar elephant in the room."

"That reminds me, I need to make me and Ed some friendship bracelets..."

"Does that mean he didn't immediately hate you right off the bat? You got along?" I pressed.

"Oh, no." House shook his head. "He totally hates me."

I sighed, leaning back into the Eames chair and closing my eyes. "That's what I was worried about. What did you do?"

"Me? Nothing."

"House..."

"He discharged my patient so he could get a gold star from the Feds," House said at length. "I shared my medical opinion on the matter."

"Oh God." I buried my head in my hands. "What did you say to him?"

"That he's not a doctor, what he or the government thinks means absolutely zilch to me, and that he has no authority to discharge my patients. Especially ones that he forced on me in the first place."

Damn it. I forgot about that. I should've forewarned him that even after Joey was discharged, he would end up back in the hospital not even an hour later. Now House was officially on Vogler's radar. Granted, an episode later than in the series, but it was still worrying nonetheless. House's actions in Control had set Vogler against him much more than the ones in Mob Rules... but I just couldn't predict what the new chairman of the board would do. I didn't know Vogler like I knew the other characters. I couldn't so easily guess what he would do next.

Honestly, that was the biggest problem. Obviously my knowledge of the future was a quite literal live-saver, but the more I altered things, the less the timeline I was looking at now would resemble the canon timeline, thus making my future knowledge hazier and hazier over time. Still, given the fact that I knew the House MD gang, I could attempt to predict their actions in the face of my meddling.

But Vogler had been a season one antagonist who only showed up in a few episodes. I didn't know the ins and outs of his brain.

Which made the latter half of season one... dangerous, to say the least.

"You were supposed to fly under the radar," I reminded him.

"Yeah, well, he sat on the radar, and he isn't a small guy."

"This could be bad. Men like Vogler don't like people questioning their authority. If he looks into you more, it's not–"

"It's not about if, it's about when. Might as well rip the bandage off. The authoritarian and the nihilist are never going to hold hands and cross the street together, it's as simple as that. The question isn't whether he'll hate me, the question is how will he express that hate? Quiet seething and eventual tolerance, or–"

"Or he ruins your life," I finished. I sighed, curling up and leaning back against the chair. "I... I desperately need a nap. Wake me up if Vogler decides to fire the entire department."

"You're worrying too much. Don't be a Wilson."

"You say that like being Wilson is a bad thing."

"If three ex-wives and self-worth issues rattles your roll cage, then go for it."

"He only has two ex-wives," I muttered, already feeling sleep creeping up on me.

"Pshh. For now."

House's derisive snort was the last thing I heard before drifting off.

I woke up from my nap just as the sun was setting. I hunted around the hospital for House, but couldn't find any sign of him. I gave up, deciding to head back to the apartment and pack my bag. I didn't know how long I would be staying with he and Julie, but I hoped it wouldn't be for too long. I could only imagine how tense an environment their house was.

Still, it would put Wilson's mind at rest... and even more so than that, it would give House a possibly much-needed break from me. I'd been practically on top of him for the past seven months. A few days away from one another could probably do the both of us some good.

Hopefully.

I packed enough for three days, not having any real grasp of how long Joey's case would last. House was still at the hospital, and I'd left him the car, which meant I'd have to find my own way over to Wilson's. I'd been with House when we'd picked Wilson up before at his house in Rosedale, but I couldn't remember his address offhand.

I shot Wilson a text, asking for his address so I could catch a cab. He replied relatively quickly, saying he'd just finished up at work and he would come get me himself.

I settled myself down on the couch, bag in lap, waiting for Wilson to arrive. My leg bounced up and down. I felt a mixture of dread and curiosity; I would finally get to meet Julie, but I would also very likely get to be a firsthand witness to a slew of marital drama I really wanted no part of.

That was one thing I just didn't know how to save: Wilson's marriage. Not to mention, with how shamelessly and dedicatedly I shipped Wilson with Amber...

I'm a really terrible person.

Soon enough, Wilson's Volvo pulled up out front, and he beeped the horn. I shouldered my duffel and made my way out. I climbed into his car, tossed my bag in the back, and we were off.

"Hey," Wilson greeted.

"Hey. How was work?"

"About the same as always. Human suffering and paperwork," he replied grimly. "House's patient's liver is failing. They had to put him on the pig."

"Oh yeah, I remember that," I laughed. "I remember telling my parents about it when the episode first aired, and they didn't believe me. Little nine year old me just kept insisting, that, and I quote, 'they attached a pig to him and it saved him!'"

"I have a hard time grasping the entertainment value House's life would hold for a nine-year-old," Wilson admitted.

I shrugged. "I didn't really grasp most of what was going on until I was eleven or twelve. I just thought House was funny. I'd decided by the time I was in the first grade I wanted to be a doctor, so I kind of obsessively started watching medical shows as soon as Mom and Dad dropped the parental controls on the TV. And, what can I say, House always hit the spot a hell of a lot better than Grey's Anatomy."

"So, no cartoons? Just sick people and sarcasm?" he questioned with a hint of a smile.

"Pretty much. Explains a lot about me now, doesn't it?"

Wilson chuckled, and the rest of the ride passed mostly in comfortable silence. Once we were in Wilson's upscale neighborhood, I cleared my throat. "So, uh... should I be like, wary of anything going in?"

"Wary? Why would you need to be?"

"I don't know Julie, Wilson. That's basically a verbal minefield. I'm not that great at knowing what to say and what not to say to begin with, even with people I'm familiar with."

"You'll like Julie," Wilson promised. "She's... kind. Compassionate. She loves kids."

"I'm not a kid," I reminded him, maybe a little petulantly.

He just smiled. "Right."

I looked out the window, not sure how to say what was on my mind. "Wilson, if... if Julie's so, you know... nice, why are you guys...?"

Wilson's hands tensed on the steering wheel. "Show never covered that, huh?"

"...Not in great detail, no."

Wilson sighed. "It's hard to explain."

I waited for him to try to explain, but he didn't. By the time we'd pulled into Wilson's driveway, I'd resigned myself to the fact that Wilson probably wasn't going to have Marital Issues Story Time with me anytime soon, which I could understand. Wilson and I were pretty close, but there were certain things a grown man probably didn't want to discuss with an eighteen year old girl.

We clambered out of the car. Wilson shouldered my bag, and we headed for the door. Wilson's house was, for lack of a better term, adorable. A two-story seventies style place, white siding with deep blue shingles, trim, and shutters. A porch wrapped around the house, decorated with boxes of zinnias and snapdragons. The lawn was perfectly manicured, complete with a little bird fountain that just rode the line between tasteful and tacky.

I liked Wilson's house. More so than I liked House's apartment, at least location wise. On this happy little suburban street with its soccer moms and kids playing in the driveways, I could pretend for a second that I was back home. A noisy street in downtown Princeton vs. family-oriented suburbs... it had been a big change for me that had gotten lost among all the other big changes.

A pang of homesickness hit me hard, but I tried to smile through it. "Your house really is cute," I told him.

"We try to keep it nice. It didn't look half this good when we moved in, but Julie wanted a fixer-upper, a place we could make our own," Wilson told me as we headed up the porch stairs.

"How long have you guys lived here?" I asked.

"Five years," he provided. "We moved in right after we got married."

I tried to hide my surprise; I had no idea Wilson and Julie had been married for that long at the start of the series.

Maybe for someone Wilson's age, five years wasn't that much, but for me, that seemed like forever. Five years was the difference between thirteen and eighteen. Nearly a third of my life.

It was a long time to spend with someone to have it all come crashing down, and end up alone.

They both ended up cheating on each other, didn't they? What am I supposed to do about that? I can't stop everything. Some things are just inevitable.

But if I believed anything was truly inevitable, why was I even trying to fix things in the first place?

"Julie? I'm home. Anya's with me," Wilson called once we were inside and standing in his living room. The place was decorated in subtle earth tones. Two long leather couches ran perpendicular to one another, and an enormous plasma screen TV sat on an entertainment center against one wall. On a coffee table rested a few burning candles, something vanilla-y.

"In here," a woman's voice echoed from down the hall. Wilson led me to the source. The two of us entered an expansive modern kitchen, all stainless steel and marble countertops. A woman stood at the stove, making what looked like stir fry. From the back, I could tell that she was tall, with cascading blonde curls. She set her spoon down and turned to face us.

Gosh, she's pretty. Blue-green eyes, cheek bones for days, perfect skin. She reminded me of Amber, definitely. It was undeniable that Wilson had a type.

"You must be Anya," she said, smiling brightly, extending a hand to me.

"Hi Julie. It's really good to finally meet you." I shook her offered hand briefly. I was anxious in her presence, not knowing what Wilson had told her about me and not being sure how to act around her, as I knew nothing about her.

There were one-off characters. There were background characters... then there was Julie, who hadn't even so much been granted screen-time, or an actress to play her, that's how irrelevant the writers apparently viewed her as.

"I was beginning to think House would never let you come over. Imagine my surprise when I found out you'd be staying with us for a few days," Julie said with half of a laugh, turning back to the stir fry. "It's no problem. James explained House's case to me. Knowing his tendency to piss people off, it's probably best that you're as far away from him as possible for now."

Well, Julie definitely seemed to have a decent read on House, even though House made an effort to avoid her like the plague.

"Thank you, by the way," I told her, trying to come across genuine, "for letting me crash here."

"I knew it would get James to stop worrying. Plus, I've been curious about you since you turned up in Princeton. The spawn of Gregory House..."

"Julie," Wilson said, somewhere between exasperation and warning.

I just laughed it off. "I'm actually not the Antichrist, if you can believe that," I told Julie. "House and I are, uh, diametrically opposed in a lot of ways."

"But from what I hear, you're just as smart as him," she commented, starting to spoon the stir fry off onto plates.

I blushed at that. Apparently Wilson had talked me up to Julie. Great. Now I had expectations to live up to. I didn't know whether to be flattered or perturbed.

"I'm not dumb, but House? He's on a whole 'nother level."

"Well, you're polite. That already makes you smarter than him in my book," she replied. "Is beef stir fry alright? James said you like Chinese food."

Jeez, had Wilson given her a dossier on me? "That sounds wonderful."

"Go put your stuff in the guest room. It'll be on the table when you come back."

I nodded. "Okay. Thank you."

Wilson led the way out of the room, and I followed behind him, weaving through the hallways of his immaculately clean house. I dredged from the depths of my memory the name of Wilson's maid: Lady. Good to know real life hadn't completely erased all of my useless House trivia just yet.

"She seems cool," I said to Wilson as I tailed him up a small, carpeted spiral staircase. "It sounds like she really hates House."

"All my wives have," Wilson admitted. "Except for Sam, but she didn't have the pleasure of his acquaintance."

"What did House ever do to her, anyway?"

"You know House. I'm sure you can imagine." Wilson beckoned me into the guest room. "It's not much, but I figure it'll be a nice break from House's couch."

I looked around the room. Sparse furnishings, but a nice, comfy queen size bed rested in the center, along with a dresser and night stand. A hell of a lot more than I had to myself back at House's place.

"It's great." I meant that. Having a semblance of privacy for a few days would be weird, but not unwelcome. "So, real talk: did you rant and rave about me to Julie?"

"I..." Wilson set my bag down on the bed, then scratched the back of his neck, weighing his next words. "I keep hoping that you can be proof that House isn't all bad. You're his daughter, and you're a good person. It's apple-and-tree logic."

"But I'm not actually his daughter."

"Thankfully, she doesn't know that."

"And he had nothing to do with raising me, either way."

"But he's looking after you now, and he's been doing an... acceptable job. Right?" Wilson asked, half-wincing, as if he didn't really want to know the answer.

"More than acceptable, considering who we're talking about." I pursed my lips. "You really wish that those two didn't hate each other so much, don't you?"

Wilson seemed reluctant to answer, but eventually nodded. "Yeah. It certainly makes things difficult."

"Well, have no fear." I clapped Wilson on the shoulder. "I'll be such a perfect angel over the next few days, Julie won't be able to help but hate House a little less."

The doctor shot me a weak but grateful smile. "One can only hope."