Work Text:
“You don’t need me here. You know it’s not cancer.” Wilson said.
House fumbled for an excuse. “Can’t a lonely old man wish for company?”
“I guess so,” The laugh that came from Wilson was very nice. “I’d argue that you aren’t lonely.”
A soft hand was placed on his shoulder. “Wilson…”
“House.”
Then he burst out laughing. Any moment that was soft and tender, well it was basically his cue to ruin it.
The team had yet to arrive, and when they did he had a new case for them. A girl, showing signs of dementia, along with kidney failure. It had to be something neurological, it had to be. Which meant it would be Foreman’s expertise.
Wilson excused himself, some sort of old lady with a diagnosis of bone cancer, and so House was left to sit by himself. He grabbed the tennis ball he kept on his desk and bounced it up and down, up and down, up and down. He popped a vicodin. Nothing better to start the day with.
His team finally shuffled in. He silently doubted they had anything better to do. The clock read 12:43. So it had been lunch break that had kept them… how inconvenient.
“Female, in her 20s, signs of dementia, failing kidney. What’s wrong?”
House leaned on his cane and made his way to the whiteboard. Cameron raised her hand, in the perfect imitation of a student. Out of the kindness of his heart, he chose her.
“Yes?”
“Early onset Alzheimer's, with kidney failure caused by PKD.”
He hummed thoughtfully. A decent answer. To anyone who wasn’t him.
“I feel this is Foreman’s jurisdiction. Isn’t it? Is this neurological?” His eyes bored into Foreman.
“Could be a brain tumor, have we done an MRI yet?”
“Of course. And we’ve found nothing. Try again.”
Foreman sighed. Chase was searching wildly for explanations with their patient. Cameron brushed a strand of her back. House was standing by the whiteboard, marker in hand.
“Anyone? Why am I paying for morons to work for me?”
Cameron opened her mouth to make a statement but closed it. Wise.
He tapped his cane impatiently. “Even Wilson could make a guess. In fact I should go and get him right now to school all of you.”
His students, although they didn’t behave like how any proper students would, he just liked to call them that, all sighed.
Given how hopeless they all were, he gave them a hint. “Go get a biopsy.”
“But–”
“No buts.”
Chase was upset he’d been overruled but relented anyhow. They filed out of his office, fancy little clipboards in hand.
He picked his cane up from the table he’d propped it up on. Time to annoy Cuddy. The path to her office was filled with the type of young nurses Wilson flirted with and cheeky interns that thought they knew better than trained professionals.
His boss was discussing some sort of business venture when he barged in. He’d managed to hear some of the conversation, it had gone something like:
“Testing out the new version could be,”
“But it won't, and we don’t take that kind of risk.”
“You have the best doctors in the country! How could you not–”
“That is exactly why!”
And then he’d arrived. “Lovely v-neck today Cuddy. Like the red color, makes your breasts pop.”
She gave a very offended look and promptly shoved the business man out with hurried apologies. The man seemed exponentially confused.
“I was trying to talk business, you can’t keep coming in here whenever you feel like it.”
“Actually I can. Because that’s what you employ me to do.” It certainly wasn’t.
Cuddy actually gave a frown. An honest to god frown. With creasing eyebrows and all.
“There was something I wanted to discuss with you.”
“Oh no,” He gasped and covered his ears childishly. “I can’t hear you.”
She reached over and pried his fingers from his face. “Your clinic hours. For some odd reason, to which I'm sure you can explain, many people have been mistaking you for a black man. Is there something I should know?”
He pretended to think. Yes he’d been making Foreman do his clinic hours. They were honest to god boring. So boring he might collapse. Last time he’d collapsed the patient had become very concerned, even if it had just been a light prank to test out his latest theory. Wilson had not approved (even if he found it hilarious).
One of the downsides of being the funniest doctor in the hospital meant everyone else had to pretend to be serious.
“Nope. Maybe I just have a certain… something to me.”
Cuddy pointed at him accusingly. “You will not be making Foreman do any more of your hours. If I catch this happening again - well I’m not sure. I just don’t know what to do with you anymore.”
From the thoughtful look in her eyes, which he had learned to read long ago, he was in for a lecture. A clinic lecture or maybe something to do with his latest patient. That biopsy hadn’t been approved at all. And maybe he’d also had Chase and Cameron break into the last last patients house.
To escape the situation as fast as possible, House gave a small snarky wave to Cuddy. “Gotta go boss, me and Wilson are gonna be meeting for a lunch date.”
She only looked at him with confusion. And something deeper beneath her eyes but he couldn’t figure it out. And he didn’t try to.
He left her office.
House had long given up finding any rational explanation for his connection to his best friend. It had been an instant clicking. And it had stayed like that. Throughout Wilson’s many divorces. It reminded him to be grateful he never married.
To Wilson’s office it was. He didn’t bother to knock on the door. The oncologist was perched on his chair, rapidly filling out forms.
“Still hard at work?” His joke fell flat as Wilson continued his scribbling.
He tried again, “I promised Cuddy we were gonna have a lunch date. Don’t wanna look like a liar.”
That caught Wilson’s attention. “You are a liar.”
“Oh! I am offended. Don’t you dare insult my integrity. Now let's go have some lunch, my treat.” He added a very trustworthy wink.
“First of all, you won’t pay, I know that. And second of all, I can’t. Go out there I mean.”
House raised his eyebrows. “Why not? You love chatting up the lunch ladies. They adore you.”
“No. I can’t go there. With all those people.”
Okay. That was weird. Wilson loved people. He was the flirtatious doctor who reluctantly paid for House’s every meal. His meal ticket. There was no way he’d ever avoid anyone. Unless he’d had a fling gone wrong… which he hadn’t recently. House kept up on the office drama, he had many informants, and no one had reported anything with Wilson recently.
“Yes you can.” He grabbed his arm and began to try and drag him from the desk.
“No!”
Arms were retracted and both doctors stared at each other. “Is something wrong? You don’t usually get this mad–this easily.”
Wilson stuttered. “You–you know. Y’know. You know it.”
A terrible feeling that he’d been missing something washed over him. He knew. Wilson was right. He couldn’t go out there. To eat with people. He couldn’t. Never again. His knees buckled. The floor wasn’t uncomfortable but it wasn’t comfortable either. He’d dropped his cane long ago. His hands felt numb and he didn’t want to try and pick himself up.
He looked up at Wilson. “You’re not real are you?”
“No.”
“You died from cancer.”
“Yeah.”
“So why did I… imagine you?”
Wilson was already gone. But House had his answer. He needed Wilson. He needed him so much. And now he looked a fool. Although truth be told, he was one. He’d hallucinated Wilson and spent the entire time acting as if he was alive. No wonder the whole hospital thought he was crazy.
He stayed on the floor. Can’t go on without Wilson. Not without him. Life without him? Impossible. He could see the signs of grief within him, what stage he was in, he was in denial. The first stage.
“Wait! Wilson. Come back,” A rough cry. A sob if you will.
Miraculously, Wilson’s voice came from behind him.
“If… if you’re not real. Not here… can you just stay with me? Talk to me?”
A pause. “Yeah. I guess I can.”
“How was your day?”
“It was good.”