I spy
Wilson had not responded to his texts prior to lunch, so House decided to just head straight to the man's office and see what was cooking. But, not expecting the door to be locked, he walked straight into it and banged his knee against the wood. "Ow. Open up, you slippery Jew. I know you're in there!".
A pair of women walked past and bridled at the vocabulary.
"Don't worry. His name is Drew. Wordplay. He's in on it".
One of the ladies glanced at the silver writing on the door: 'James Wilson, Department of Oncology'.
"'Drew' is Hebrew for 'James'", he explained. "Shalom, sisters". These words were delivered at their retreating backs.
For a second, House stood there smiling. The best interactions really were the ones where he could do all the talking. Other people just ruined things, flapping their gums and expecting him to listen. One of Cameron's best qualities was that she recognised this, allowing him time and space to roam in their conversations without butting in herself. The small things added up to make a decently satisfactory whole.
House retrieved his phone and called Wilson, who picked up eventually. "Yo, we getting lunch or what?", asked the former.
"No can do, sorry. I'm due to see a patient. Just gonna pick up a file from my office and head off".
"I'm at your office right now".
"Hey". Wilson had come up behind him. "Like I say, kinda busy at the moment. Shift out of the way".
House did so, watching as his friend unlocked the door, before following him in. "What kind of patient?".
"Breast cancer thing". Wilson rummaged around on his desk before he found what he was looking for.
"We on for pizza night, still?".
"Yeah, should be. Will let you know". The oncologist checked his buzzing phone and moved back to the door, gesturing for his friend to move aside.
But the blue eyes were unwavering. "Who was that?".
"Mathilde. Gonna see her on the way. Come on, I need to go".
After a moment of reflection, he smirked and sidestepped. "Fine. I'll see you at mine tonight".
Wilson nodded and set off down the corridor wearing a somewhat harried expression. House watched him go, wondering about this latest situation. It was rare that the pair went several days without meeting up, but it was now the middle of the week and they had barely shared a word since Cuddy's party on Friday. Perhaps they had both been involved with their respective girlfriends. Interestingly, Wilson still seemed reluctant to properly introduce her, and it hadn't escaped House's notice that while he had brought Cameron as a date to Cuddy's, Wilson had not brought Mathilde.
On the spur of the moment, House jogged over to the stairs and ran down them two at a time, passing a couple of doctors. After he had gone, one of them looked at the other, before asking: "didn't that guy used to have a cane? Man's a damn mountain goat".
House reached the ground floor and panned around for Wilson, trying in vain to pick out his utterly bland features from the melee. Searching for a better position, he wandered over to the pharmacy, leaning against the counter. A couple of people, looking to fill their prescriptions, shot him a glance, unsure if he were a patient or a doctor. "Don't mind me", he said. "I'm here on government business". After a minute more of fruitless detective work, he summoned the pharmacist: "excusez-moi, garçon!".
"Dr. House, as you can see, I have a number of people waiting in line", muttered the man, not looking up.
"You aren't gonna get a job at the best restaurants with that tone".
"What is it?", he sighed. There was no use arguing, and perhaps House's request would be easily dealt with.
"Dr. Wilson, AKA Dr. Desperate. You seen him round these parts? Any information leading to his hideout could see you well rewarded". He leant in and whispered conspiratorially: "how does a one on one with Dr. Cameron sound?".
The pharmacist returned a blank look.
"Smoking hot babe? Diagnostics? Blonde formerly brown hair? Goddam, no wonder you flunked medical school".
"Actually, pharmacists-".
"-don't care. You seen Wilson or not?".
"Clinic", he replied shortly.
"Merci beaucoup, garçon".
"Gutierrez".
House blinked a couple of times. "Yeah, no, it's French".
"I'm from Scranton".
"I don't…I don't know what's going on here anymore. Good chat".
He slapped the counter and trooped across the central area to the clinic. As expected, Wilson was indeed there, deep in conversation with a nurse, heads close. Though too far away to hear their words, House knew immediately that this conversation partner was not Mathilde but Brenda/Glenda. Why would Wilson claim to be meeting his girlfriend? There seemed to be a fair bit of gesticulating, and when it was done, Wilson touched the woman's shoulder and moved off with a quick glance at his watch, eventually disappearing into an elevator. From a vantage point across the floor, House could see that it was on the way up to oncology.
Instead of following, House sidled through to the clinic. "Good morning, Brenda!", he announced in an intentionally loud voice.
The woman looked up in a flash, turning red. "It's Rhonda!".
"Uhh, what?".
"No, sorry. I don't know why I said that. Rhonda is my cousin. We have Welsh ancestry. I was just on the phone to her so, y'know, in my mind", she laughed nervously, gesturing to her head. "You aren't-, I mean, you're not down for clinic today?".
"I'm looking for Dr. Wilson. Apparently he's due in here about now, so thought I'd catch him. Could use a consult", House spoke casually, leaning on a file cabinet.
"Hmm. I'm unsure. Can check the shift pattern if you-".
"-have you seen him?".
"Err, no. Sorry".
"Huh, that's weird. See, I asked garçon the pharmacist and he told me Wilson was in the clinic…".
"Garçon? Oh, you mean Gutierrez".
"Garçon is French", House sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Sometimes life was just too hard.
"He comes from Sacramento, I think".
"Actually, Scranton-", he began before catching himself: "no, I'm not getting into this. I just saw Wilson in here".
"Ohh, you mean James Wilson. Oncology. Yeah, he was around", Brenda responded hurriedly.
"Yes. I know". The words emerged slowly as the nephrologist worked to contain his temper. "I'd like to hear what you were discussing".
The woman took a deep breath, trying not to wilt under his glare. Although she was well-used to dealing with House, he really could be intimidating: tall, stubbled, and broader in the shoulders nowadays. "Oh, it was just to ask if he could switch his clinic duty with Dr. Patel. I said it was fine".
House looked at her closely. "Are you sure about that?".
"Yep. I can show you the rejigged schedule, if you like?", she asked, half-turning the computer screen towards him.
"No need. I believe you. Many wouldn't, but I do".
"Great. Can I help you with anything else?".
"I don't know, can you?".
"Huh?".
"Never mind". As at the pharmacy, House tapped the counter before pacing from the clinic and towards Cuddy's office, which he entered without knocking.
"-yes, I think so, too". Wildermuth, the head of surgery, was in the middle of addressing Cuddy and another doctor whose name House didn't know.
"Hi, Wilderberry", he said breezily. "Sorry I'm late. My staff forgot to pass me the memo. I'll just take a seat, shall I?".
"I wasn't aware Dr. House would be joining us", remarked Wildermuth to Cuddy.
"He isn't", she stated. "House, what is it? We're in the middle of something".
"I think it's best if we have this chat in private. Wilderball? Would you mind giving us a minute?". He had walked up to Cuddy's desk to look down at his seated colleagues.
"Actually, I would mind. This is our meeting. You can't just barge-", began Wildermuth indignantly.
"-just spit it out, for God's sake", commanded Cuddy, speaking over the other.
"I think…our, er, mutual friend", House winked, "is having an affair. As a fellow Jew, I was wondering if you had any more information. I know community is big amongst you guys".
The woman looked utterly bemused. "Are you high?".
"6, 2. Thanks for noticing. Not having to use a cane has really straightened out my spine".
"Yes, but-, I literally have no idea what you're talking about".
House rolled his eyes. "Our mutual Jewish friend…? Ring any bells…?".
"Cameron is Jewish?".
"No. Cameron is not Jewish", he sighed.
For a second, Cuddy completely forgot that she was in a meeting, finally realising the man to whom House was referring. "But I thought he was Irish? More of an Irish name, surely".
"Look, it doesn't matter. Do you have anything to say about…my suspicion?".
"You're right", stated Cuddy, getting back to business. "It doesn't matter. I try not to interfere with my employees' personal life-".
"-what about a friend's personal life?".
"That would be a topic best dealt with alone".
"My thoughts exactly. Wilders?", said House, actually patting the seated man on the head. "Fancy grabbing me a coffee? Black no sugar, thanks".
"House. Leave". Cuddy's face was stony.
"Ah, fine. I'm sure it'll all work out for the best, hey? What's to fear? Nothing could possibly go wrong". He waved a hand and left his boss' office.
Later that afternoon, House was spying on Wilson across from one of the cancer wards. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his back, and Cameron's voice in his ear: "what are you doing?".
House maintained his vigil. "Spying on Wilson. You?".
"Watching you spy on Wilson".
"How did you find me?". House had spent most of the afternoon on his feet, so was surprised to find himself being followed in turn.
"Easy. I just sniffed out the trail of tears, annoyed nurses, and offended patients".
"That sounds like Hansel and Gretel", he grunted, turning to give her a peck on the cheek before tracking his friend's movements again. Wilson was clearly doing routine rounds, which was completely expected and boring. If he were to figure out what was going on, he would need to keep a close eye for any change over the next little period.
"You'd be the wicked witch in that scenario, I suppose?", she teased, referencing his words from this morning, but watching his eyes focus on the oncologist.
"And you'd be Hansel searching for gingerbread to eat, you silly little boy".
Cameron ignored the jibe. "I'd let you eat me up any day, House".
This did cause him to look down finally, and he flicked her nose with a thumb. "Yeah?".
"D'you even need to ask?".
He released a murmur, but before long he was back on watch. Wilson was still bustling about the ward, consulting charts and chatting to his staff.
"Why are you spying on Wilson?".
"Something's going on with him. I think he may be having an affair".
"How's that?".
"Cricket reference?".
"Huh?". Not for the first time in their relationship, Cameron had no clue what he was talking about.
"How's that—it's what you say when-, never mind. What were we talking about? Nah, he's just being weird. And whenever Wilson is weird, you can bet your tight little butt that something's happening behind the scenes".
"Are you sure-", she began.
"-damn, he's coming. Quick!". House yanked her into the nearest patient's room. The pair watched through the glass as Wilson walked down the corridor, browsing a piece of paper. Only when he'd disappeared round the corner did they both register how close they were to each other. House glanced down and smiled sheepishly, aware that he could feel her breasts against his shirt: "err, hey".
"Hi, buster", she grinned.
"I grabbed you pretty hard there. Sorr-".
But Cameron kissed him, interrupting the sentence.
Unfortunately, however, their moment was ruined by an exaggerated whistle and a thick Jamaican accent: "you go, girl!". Both doctors immediately separated, only now realising that the room in which they had sought refuge was occupied by an elderly man and, presumably, his daughter, the owner of the voice, who was regarding them keenly from a chair by her father's bed. "Please, don't let us stop you".
House throat-cleared while his younger subordinate flushed red with embarrassment. "What kind of cancer?", he asked.
"Prostate", the woman replied.
"There are worse types".
"So we've heard. Right, Dad?".
The man, who must have been half-deaf, spoke loudly. "If you wanna use my bed, you are more than welcome, kids! Nurse cleaned me out not thirty minutes ago. We don't mind a show!".
"Thanks, but we'd best be off". House had a hand on the door handle.
"Good luck with, er, life", offered Cameron to the Jamaicans, cringing internally at such a ridiculous statement.
"Good luck with tonguing that very handsome man", returned the lady, winking at House. "God did good work with you, plum".
With that, the pair left.
"'Good luck with life?'", queried House conversationally as they walked.
"I had to think on my feet", she hit back. "Granted, I didn't think very hard".
"What's up?".
Instinctively Cameron knew that he was back on medicine. "The patient doesn't have a PFO and his condition is worsening. Pretty severe mood swings: yelling at his wife, throwing things. Foreman almost lost an eye".
"Huh". House had not expected that. "Some sort of mental degeneration, perhaps. We need to look at his brain".
"He's undergoing an MRI as we speak".
"Great. Let's head over".
"What about Wilson?".
"He'll keep. The medicine is more important than my spying mission. Reconnaissance is a slow-burn thing, anyway".
"Gotcha, plum".
"Yep, no, very good", grimaced House to the sound of Cameron's laughter. "By the way, I'll need you to spend some time with the pharmacist downstairs. Nothing too hardcore: a bit of a touch and a kiss, maybe".
"Oh, sure. Well, I was gonna flirt with the accountants first, but I guess I can squeeze him in later this week". She made a show of scrolling through her phone diary.
"Great!", exclaimed House. "His name is Guthenberg, by the way, from Scranton. Or Sacramento. Might wanna get that right when you make your move. Honestly, the fact you don't know this is pretty disgusting, given we walk past him every day. Pharmacists are people too, y'know".
Cameron shook her head. "I mean, I'm assuming there's no point asking how you thought up this moronic idea".
"He helped me with Wilson", came the reply.
"Of course, of course", she mused, as if it explained everything satisfactorily. "Would it be OK if I checked with my pimp first and got back to you? High demand this time of year".
As the pair left the elevator, House glanced across. "Yeah, no worries. I'm nothing if not reasonable. Now let's get a move on before Foreman loses that eye".