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The Writing on the Wall - Part Nine
by Evilida
Roy almost ran back to his car. No one was following him, but he needed to escape the scene of his defeat. He barged through the hospital lobby, nearly knocking over a woman using a walker and drawing outraged looks from the people who had to step aside or be bowled over.
Damn House! If Roy were a violent man, like some of the people he'd been caged with at Rahway, House would be dead by now. He'd had cellmates who never gave a second's thought about the consequences of their actions. They'd knife someone in full view of the entire prison population. They didn't think about the risk of a death sentence; all they cared about was that the person they hated was dead. House was damned lucky he was still a reasonable man, even after life on the streets and prison.
As he drove back to his apartment, Roy thought again about simply leaving the East Coast. He couldn't take his car, but Tritter didn't know about the van he borrowed from a friend when he went on a job. He'd need money though, which meant Jimmy. He couldn't walk away with nothing.
By the time he parked his car in his usual space, Roy had calmed down and his natural confidence in his own abilities reasserted itself. All was not lost. House didn't have any actual evidence against him, only observation and logic. Roy could still prevail. Roy was family, after all, and House was merely a friend. (Although family meant nothing to Roy, he knew that it was important to Jimmy.) Roy could be very persuasive, and after all, Jimmy really wanted to believe him. Bonnie had told him how much Jimmy got off on rescuing people, and that fit in perfectly with what Roy knew of him as a child and as a young man. Saving his poor lost brother would be a dream come true for him, and he wouldn't want to give up on that dream. If Roy was careful, he'd get enough money from Jimmy to finance a new life away from Tritter. If he was lucky, he might be able to ruin his brother's life at the same time.
House was still in his office, twirling his cane as if it were a baton. While he kept his hands busy, his mind was putting pieces of a puzzle together. If Roy had simply been after Wilson's money, House would not have interfered. He had, after all, repeatedly warned Wilson that his brother could not be trusted, and Wilson was an adult who could make his own decisions. Unfortunately, the harm that Roy could do was not limited to the thousands of dollars he could con from Wilson. From the moment he had seen that angry, hateful gleam in Roy's eyes, House knew that Roy was not going to be satisfied with mere money. If he was acting in concert with Tritter, as House suspected, Wilson would need all the help he could get.
Roy was deep in thought as he climbed the stairs to his apartment. He put the key in the lock and opened the door. Tritter was sitting in Roy's chair, idly leafing through a paperback that Roy had picked up at a second-hand store. He looked up when Roy entered. Roy was outraged that his personal territory had been invaded, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. Tritter was a cop and he was armed.
"Is this any good?" he asked, "Lust Killer. Catchy title. I bet you met a couple of them in prison."
"What are you doing here?"
"You didn't answer my calls, so I came to check up on you."
"I didn't get any calls," Roy lied. "Oh, now I remember. I went to a movie last night and I turned off my cellphone. I guess I forgot to turn it back on."
Tritter was unimpressed. "When I couldn't reach you, I used the tracking device on your car to see where you were. You were parked a block away from the hospital. Did you go to see your brother?"
"No," Roy said. "We're in this together. I wouldn't see Jimmy without talking to you first. We're partners."
Tritter did not like to think of himself being in partnership with a low-life such as Roy, but he let Roy's comment pass.
"Stay away from the hospital. Dr. House is there, and it's your brother's home ground. He has too much control there."
"I didn't go to the hospital. I went to this convenience store where the hospital employees buy smokes and lottery tickets. I thought I'd strike up some conversations and get the gossip. Give me some idea where to look for the dirt. They said Jimmy's always coming on to the ladies, so I figure maybe there's something there. Maybe he's sexually harassing the nurses or sleeping with his patients. That would be enough to get him fired. Maybe he'd even lose his license to practise medicine."
"Okay, anything else?"
"They said House assaulted some other doctor."
"I already knew that. He declined to press charges."
"Yeah, but I figure we get someone to needle House until he gets mad enough to hit him. Then he gets charged with assault."
"Did you find anything out on Dr. Cuddy?"
Roy thought that the dominatrix accusation was too far-fetched to pass on. It would just make him look desperate. "Nothing on her so far. Her staff is too frightened of her to say anything."
"None of this is worth anything to me. I need something more substantial," Tritter said. "If you can't do any better than this, I might as well send you back to prison."
This threat, on top of the day's other humiliations, was more than the ex-convict could stand. Roy advanced towards the police officer. Tritter stood up. He held his ground, ready to meet him. At the last moment, Roy managed to get his emotions under control. His combative stance relaxed and his fists unclenched.
"I think you should treat me with respect."
"I don't respect you," Tritter said. "You're just another pathetic petty criminal."
Tritter brushed past Roy. He took a step towards the door, then stopped and took out a pen and notepad.
"Arrange another meeting with Dr. Wilson. I think this time you should wear a wire. Here's my cellphone number. Call me when you've set it up."
When Roy refused to take the paper, Tritter let it fall to the floor. He walked out of the tiny apartment, shutting the door quietly behind him.
After he was sure that Tritter had left the building, Roy took out his cellphone and phoned the hospital.
The hospital receptionist had refused to give Roy Dr. Wilson's phone number, but she had agreed to contact the oncologist. With Dr. Wilson's permission, she arranged a conference call between the two. Roy was adamant that he needed to see Wilson as soon as possible. Wilson had wanted to meet him some place where they could not readily be observed. Roy was impatient though. None of the places that Wilson suggested met with his approval, and finally Roy said that he would meet Wilson at his hotel room. Wilson thought this was a very bad idea - Tritter knew where he lived - but Roy overruled him. He said that he could spot a cop a mile away, and Wilson was being too fearful and cautious. Finally, against his better judgement, Wilson agreed.
While he waited, Wilson looked at the ten thousand dollars he had withdrawn from the bank. Now that he actually saw it, wrapped in rubber bands and stuffed into his brief case, it didn't look like much. Roy had left it up to him to set an amount, and Wilson was certain he had screwed up. Ten thousand dollars wasn't going to be enough. It would have been easier if Roy had simply told him how much he needed, but that had never been Roy's way. Every encounter with Roy was a test, one which Jimmy Wilson invariably failed. He always proved himself too arrogant or too greedy or too cowardly. Wilson knew that he was never going to pass his brother's tests - that Roy had rigged the game so that winning was impossible. Still there was something stubborn (and stupid) in Wilson that made him try every time.
Wilson's thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. Wilson closed the briefcase and stowed it under the desk. It was too soon to be Roy, who had never arrived early to an appointment in his life. Wilson was afraid that it was Tritter. He peered through the peephole and was relieved to see House. He opened the door.
"I brought you Bonnie's keys," House said.
"You could have waited until tomorrow."
"I couldn't bear to think of all those thirsty orchids. I wouldn't have been able to sleep."
He dropped the keys and Bonnie's notes into Wilson's hand, and then stepped past Wilson into the room.
"I'm really busy right now. Thanks for dropping off the keys. I'll see you tomorrow."
House looked at the clean surfaces of Wilson's hotel room. If Wilson was busy, it was difficult to say what he was busy doing. There was no paperwork on the desk and the television and radio were off. There was not even a book or a magazine on the nightstand. House looked sceptical.
"Okay, you've caught me. I'm expecting a visitor - a call girl."
"Really, which one? I might know her."
"Robin. You've met her."
Robin was the only call girl Wilson knew by name. He had met her at the hospital when one of her clients had collapsed. Unlike House, he had never used the services of a prostitute.
"Yes. I didn't realize that you were seeing her professionally. You told me you took her out to dinner, but you decided not to see her again when you found what she did for a living."
"I was lying. She's going to be here any minute. You should leave."
"I'll hang around. Maybe she offers two-for-one specials."
"She's not delivering pizzas."
"Are you afraid I'll find out all your kinks? I've been on clinic duty. Believe me there's nothing that you two could do that would surprise me."
House lay down on Wilson's bed on top of the coverlet. He took one of Wilson's pillows and used it to elevate his aching leg. He grabbed the remote to Wilson's television from the nightstand. He turned the t.v. on, and pretended to be absorbed in the baseball game. He muted the sound though.
"House," said Wilson. There was a note of exasperated pleading in his voice that House chose to ignore. Short of calling hotel security to remove him bodily, Wilson couldn't think of how to get House to leave. Finally, in desperation, he decided to tell the truth.
"Roy's going to be here any minute. I don't think you should be around."
"Why are you meeting him here? Isn't this the first place Tritter would look for him?"
"That's what I told Roy. I tried to talk him out of it"
"Roy seems a lot less concerned about being caught than you are. Why is that?"
"I guess he's used to it. He used to sell pot when I was a kid. There's an element of risk in that line of business."
"Illegal drugs?" said House in an incredulous voice. "Your saintly brother? I thought he was pure in thought and deed until those wicked drug dealers forced him to use their products!"
"I never said he was a saint."
"You never said he was an asshole either. I found that out myself. You know that he hates you, don't you?"
"He resents me. He thinks I forced this whole Tritter situation on him. I don't blame him. I had a hard time forgiving you for bringing Tritter into my life."
"He hates you," House repeated seriously. "You can't trust him."
"It doesn't matter whether he hates me or not," Wilson said. "I still love him, and I'm going to help him."
"That doesn't even make sense."
"You don't understand because you don't have a brother. You don't even like your family. You don't know what it's like when someone you used to be close to just drops out of your life, and you have no idea whether he is alive or dead. You don't know how often you think about what you could have done to stop that person from walking away."
"I've lost people," House said, thinking of Stacey. "You have to accept that they're gone."
"Roy isn't gone yet."
"Roy isn't the person that you were missing! He's not the loving older brother you remember! For God's sake, Wilson, how could anyone miss somebody like Roy? It would be like missing a cancerous tumour. Michael was right; your family was better off without him. "
"I knew I couldn't make you understand," Wilson said.
He rubbed the back of his neck and began pacing the room. He glanced at his watch. Time was running short and Roy would soon be there. Suddenly asking Phil and Avtar in Security to help him drag House out of the hotel didn't seem like a bad idea.
"No, I get it, all right," House said. "You and Roy grew up together, blah, blah, blah. Loyalty to your family, etc., etc., etc. Emotional ties that cannot be broken, yada, yada, yada. Does all that mean that you have to disregard common sense entirely? I know that you're gullible, and I've used that to my advantage, but I never imagined that you were moronic!"
"Do you think that insulting me is actually going to help you win this argument?"
"Wilson, you can't afford to think like a nine year-old boy!" House said angrily. "You could get in real trouble, and real trouble here doesn't mean a timeout. Tritter's involved in this. You remember Tritter! He was the one willing to destroy your practice and ruin your reputation just because I pissed him off. I think he and Roy are acting together."
"That's ridiculous."
"No, it isn't. Roy keeps talking about how afraid he is of Tritter. Tritter's tracking him down like the hunter after Bambi's mom, and you've got to help him get away. But what does Roy actually do? He agrees to meet us in the middle of a crowded mall. He's never met me before; for all he knows, I could be an undercover cop. That doesn't concern him. Now, he's meeting you where you live. He knows that Tritter's got your address. God, Wilson, he's not even bothering to pretend to be afraid of Tritter anymore. He knows that you'll give him the money, even though you don't believe a word he says."
Wilson was listening, despite himself.
"But it isn't about the money," House said, "if Tritter's involved. Tritter doesn't give a damn about money. He wants to hurt you to get to me."
These words released Wilson from House's spell. Wilson laughed humourlessly.
"Everything has to revolve around you. This can't be about me meeting my brother after ten years; it has to be about you and Tritter!"
There was a knock on Wilson's door.
"Let Roy in," House said, standing up. "I'm not leaving."
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of NBC/Universal, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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