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An Economy of Words
by Jackyblu
House drove his 'vette' into the parking garage at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital and parked in the space marked handicapped. "We're here," he said addressing the passenger next to him.
"Can we just stay in the car for a while?"
"How long?"
"Till five?"
"We're off at five. That works for me."
"Think somebody would come looking for us?"
"Probably. Good chance they'd find us too."
"Yeah." Wilson reluctantly opened the car's door and carefully swung his legs out wincing. He knew that the burns on his legs weren't terrible, but damn it, they still hurt like blazes!
House put his bag over his shoulder and then reached for Wilson's.
"I can get it," Wilson insisted, and then tried to reach for the bag with his left hand. He stopped and rolled his eyes. Stupid. Try the uninjured arm James! House picked it up with his left hand.
"Already got it. It's all yours next time Sport."
The two doctors limped toward the hospital's entrance. All Wilson wanted was to get to his office, unobserved if possible. House knew that feeling well. Five years after the infarction and he was only slightly less uncomfortable about people staring at him. He cared a little less about it, but that came after years of building up a thick armor. He protected himself with sarcasm, cynicism, and an inability to trust. He had added a layer of scruffiness to keep people away. House permitted very few people close enough to know him. One of them was walking stiffly beside him now. James Wilson knew Greg House better than any one alive.
They entered the hospital and House scanned the lobby to see what would be the 'path of least assistance' from here to their offices. The lobby was mercifully empty with a clear shot to the elevators. Talk about luck...
"Oh my God! Dr. Wilson!"
...that was just shot to holy hell.
"Morning Dr. Cuddy," House said making an effort to get between her and Wilson who was attempting to back behind House as if seeking his protection. "Dr. Wilson had a little accident last night and would really prefer to get to his office and off his feet, so if you'll excuse us..."
Instead of offering the mothering that House assumed she would force upon Wilson in abundance, Cuddy rounded on House. "What did you do?"
"Me?" House exclaimed his blue eyes opened wide.
Cuddy reached for Wilson's bandaged arm. "He spends one night at your place and then comes in to work the next day in bandages. It can't be a coincidence!"
Wilson removed his hand from hers embarrassed. "Dr. Cuddy I'm fine. As House said I had an accident while cooking last night."
Cuddy put both hands on her hips and stared a hole through House. "You made him cook for you?"
Oh really, this was going a bit too far. "I wanted to order out last night, but Florence Nightingale here thought I needed something healthy to eat." This was not my fault...exactly.
"You don't eat any better than that rat of yours. I can understand why Wilson thought it necessary to feed you. Why don't you take care of yourself?"
House wasn't sure at this point what he was in trouble for, her bawling him out had taken a couple of turns. The one thing that he did get was that Wilson's misfortune was still his fault. The elevator dinged and House took that as their signal to escape. "Oops, got to go. Lives to save here." He and Wilson edged closer to the doors which when they opened revealed one Dr. Allison Cameron. House rolled his eyes to heaven. Oh God here we go!
"Oh my God! Dr. Wilson! House what did you do?" Cameron railed at her boss.
House mimed each word as she said it.
"I didn't do anything to him!" He took Wilson's right arm and pulled him into the empty elevator car, and with his cane he pushed Cameron out and then threatened the two staring women. "Back!" The door shut on the two hissing felines.
James Wilson laughed so hard he had to lean against the elevator wall for support. House looked at him with a mixture of anger and incredulity. "What's so damn funny?' He growled.
Wilson wiped his eyes. "Everyone is going to assume this is your fault! No matter what the truth, you'll get the blame. This is great! I wish I had discovered this years ago. I could rob the gift shop, and security would come after you." He dissolved into hoots of laughter again.
Note to self; Jimmy and Vicodin do not mix well. "Yeah, that's really funny Wilson," House answered him with a tight-lipped smile and a nod of his head. "Those two are going to be after my hide all day."
The elevator stopped at their floor and the door opened to an empty hall. House and Wilson walked side by limping side to the Office of Oncology. Wilson was trying to stop laughing but every now and then snickered, much to House's irritation.
"Okay chuckles we're here." He opened the door to Wilson's outer office and regretted it immediately. Margie, Wilson's secretary was an efficient, fifty-something woman with a quick wit, kind nature and a definite soft spot for her two trouble making boys. But, she almost trampled House in an attempt to reach her boss.
"Dr. Wilson. What happened to you?"
Wilson made a very pathetic face. "It was House, Margie.
Margie turned around and smacked House across the back of his head...hard.
"Hey!" He hollered ducking and wincing. "I didn't do anything!"
Wilson was in fits of laughter again. "You're in so much trouble!"
Margie was making to smack House again when he caught her wrist with his left hand. She popped him with her right, which he couldn't stop because his right hand held his cane and Wilson's bag. "No fair! I'm at a disadvantage here. Wilson! Will you tell this hell-cat the truth before she kills me?"
"Margie," Wilson gasped between giggles. "It wasn't House's fault. I spilled boiling water on myself and House took care of my burns. He really is blameless in this." He looked over at House and said, "Sorry."
House watched Margie looking at Wilson, a disbelieving expression on her face. "Dr. House? May I have my right hand back now?"
"Are you going to hit me with it again if I return it?"
"No."
"Okay then." He let her go.
"She smacked Wilson with her right hand and House with her left."
"Ouch! What was that for?" Wilson exclaimed rubbing his head.
"Whoa! You said you weren't going to hit me!" House whined.
"I said I wouldn't hit you with my right hand. I said nothing about the left. That was for letting him," she nodded toward Wilson, "get hurt while taking care of you."
House gave her a 'why-am-I-responsible' look of confusion.
"And you," she said rounding on Wilson, "got yours for lying to me and blaming Dr. House."
"Ha!" House exclaimed looking smug. He cringed when Margie shot him a look.
"I made coffee." She pointed at Wilson's office. "Both of you get in there before the entire female population of this place descends upon you." She pointed at Wilson, "you to fawn all over," she turned to House, "and you to string up from the highest banister."
"THIS WAS NOT MY FAULT!"
"Is what you'll be hollering when they take you away. I think I see some of the mob coming this way now. Would you like to plead your case before them or would you prefer to hide in Dr. Wilson's office and let me deal with them?"
House saw she was quite correct. There were four female members of the hospital staff approaching led by nurse Brenda. Retreat seemed the wiser course. He backed toward the door to James' office.
"Dr. House?' Margie said as he started to close the door. "I like yellow roses and Swiss chocolates." She gave him that look that said, I am not kidding. He nodded showing he understood and under no circumstance was he going to forget.
"How is it, Wilson asked as he walked stiffly to his desk chair, "that she can always get you to pry open your wallet?"
"She threatens me with certain pain," House answered as he sat in the chair opposite James' desk and put his feet up on it.
Wilson leaned back in his chair and tried to lift his feet on to the desk too, but found it too difficult. He tried twice before House leaned over and assisted him using his cane to raise one leg and then the other. "Thanks," Wilson said wincing.
"Margie mentioned coffee."
"I'm not getting it."
"Oh sure, make the cripple do it."
"We are on even footing now...so to speak," Wilson said grinning at the pun.
House gave him a disgusted look. "That was terrible."
"Yeah. Vicodin must be wearing off. I don't seem to be as glib."
"You were never glib."
"I'm glib!"
"You've had glib moments at best."
"Oh and everything that comes out of your mouth is pure Robert Benchley?"
"I can hold my own," House replied smugly.
"Then why do you hire prostitutes? Wilson grinned. "Now that was glib."
"That was sarcastic."
"What's the difference?"
"You said it. If I had said it, it would have been glib."
"Ah, that's the Webster's unabridged definition?"
"You'll also find it in the Cambridge University Press Dictionary." House put his feet on the floor and slowly rose from the chair. He limped across the room to the coffee maker and poured two cups, adding sugar to both. He held the handles of both mugs in his left hand and limped back across the room using his cane. He didn't spill a drop.
"How do you do that?" Wilson asked accepting the mug House offered him.
"What? Oh, carry coffee and limp at the same time? Years of practice." House sat back down in the chair and replaced his feet on the desk. He took a sip of his coffee and imagined he felt a jolt as the caffeine entered his system. He looked at it appreciatively. Margie made one mean cuppa joe. "I'll need to change that dressing," House said conversationally.
"I think I can manage," Wilson answered sipping his coffee.
"Like you managed to boil water?" House said raising his eyes so he could watch Wilson's reaction.
"The water was boiling fine, thanks!" He raised his deep brown eyes to meet House's deep blue ones. Challenge met and answered.
"Then you managed to spill it all over yourself."
"But as you pointed out, you distracted me," Wilson countered raising an eyebrow.
"And as you pointed out, you shouldn't have read the letter until later."
"Sorry." Wilson said a pain filled look in his eyes.
House instantly felt bad. Wilson hadn't been sure that there was going to be a later. At the time, neither did House. "Don't be an idiot, " House said as a means to brush off the apology. You have nothing to be sorry for. "I wrote you a new letter and please, this time wait for the funeral," House said fixing him a stern look.
"What funeral?" Wilson asked in surprised innocence.
"The one that my best friend is suppose to hold for me."
"I thought I was suppose to hold the wake. Not much sense in holding a funeral when only you and I will be there...and you not so much," Wilson smirked at House from behind his coffee mug.
"That was glib," House said raising his mug in salute, smiling and nodding his head. He was trying to mask the fact that Wilson's words had stung a bit. Who would come to his funeral? Probably some of the hospital staff would attend including Foreman, Chase, Cameron, and Cuddy. Margie would come. Maybe Brenda. His parents would be there. His mother would be devastated. He didn't like thinking about that. Would his dad have any regrets? He sincerely hoped so. Wilson's parents might be there. Stacey might come if she heard about it. That would possibly fill the first couple of pews. Wilson was right. It would be a very small gathering. All of his friend would be there.
James noticed something slide over Greg's eyes. Hurt? Regret? Damn! Sometimes it was easy to forget that under that guarded, scruffy, bombastic exterior was a human being with feelings that could be hurt. House always wanted to look invincibly independent, but there were times when James could see what was in his heart, when it shined briefly in his eyes; Please give a damn about me.
"What are you looking at?"
"The way the light shimmers in your eyes."
"Are you flirting with me...again? I thought we decided not to do this at the hospital anymore?" House knew exactly why James was trying to divert his attention. I've shown too much to him again and he's feeling sorry for me.
"Well I wasn't in the mood last night."
"But you are now?"
"Could be."
"I think you're a tease."
"That could be as well. Guess you'll have to wait and see," Wilson waggled his eyebrows in what he thought was a seductive way. It was so comical that House snorted coffee out of his nose. "Eww, java buggers! You are definitely not getting intimate with me buddy," Wilson said in disgust.
House wiped his face with his hand and sputtered, "Don't recall asking to be intimate with you buddy!" House smiled behind his hand. Nicely played Wilson. He had managed to defuse an uncomfortable situation and let House keep some dignity...okay, except for the coffee dripping out his nose part. But still..."Think it's safe for us to move around the hospital now?"
"Check with Margie," Wilson suggested.
House set his mug down, removed his feet from the desk and rose to his feet. He limped to the door between Wilson's office and the outer office where Margie's desk was. He was careful to only crack the door open, self-preservation being his most pressing concern. The room was full of mostly female hospital employees.
"No! Doctor Wilson is with a patient and can't be disturbed. Yes, he is all right. Well, he's here isn't he? NO! I have no idea where Dr. House is! I haven't seen him since he came in with Dr. Wilson. No, the accident wasn't his fault. Well, frankly I don't care what you think! Dr. Wilson said he had nothing to do with the accident. Yes, I believe him! Don't you people have anything better to do than howl for Dr. House's blood?"
Yipe, he had heard enough! This was definitely not a friendly climate for him, and Wilson, he suspected would be smothered in an abundance of unwanted caring. He closed the door very quietly. He returned to the desk. "We are going to be here a while longer," he told Wilson while picking up their mugs for a refill of Margie's high-octane coffee.
"Until one or both of us needs to use the bathroom."
"Good point," House said setting the mugs down on the desk again. He retook his seat and put his feet up again. After a couple of moments House fixed an exasperated look on Wilson. "Why did you have to mention the bathroom?" He shifted uncomfortably.
"Yeah, that was a mistake, wasn't it?" Wilson also was looking a bit discomforted.
"Being lynched in the men's lavatory isn't exactly the obituary I was hoping for."
"I don't know, every time we are in there you mention being 'hung'," Wilson said smirking.
"That was glib! It also has the added benefit of being true."
"You wish!"
"Jealous?"
"Been married three times. Never had to call a hooker on a Friday night. You do the math."
"Three alimony payments. I'd need an accountant to do the math," House smirked back.
"Ass."
"Jerk."
"Moron."
"Idiot."
"God, I need to pee."
"Me too."
"I don't think either of us can out run the mob. Maybe we can go over the wall on the balcony?"
"Maybe you could, but my legs don't appreciate a lot of bending right now," Wilson reminded House.
This was quite a change for House. This was the first time that he was physically able to do something that Wilson couldn't. "Too bad that we aren't still in college."
"I never pissed off a balcony or out of a dorm window in my life!"
"Actually you did. You were just too bombed to remember."
"If I did, it figures I was with you!"
"I didn't put you up to it!"
"You must have!"
"Why? Because it was inappropriate behavior?"
"Exactly!"
"As it happens I came to that party to pick you up. You called me and said you couldn't drive home. I found you peeing off the balcony. I got you out of there before campus police showed up and started asking for IDs from everyone. You were a little underage to drink, unless you forgot that too."
Wilson's eyes clouded a bit and House could see him trying to remember this single occasion that had happened so many years ago. An occasion where House had been the responsible one, and Wilson had needed the rescue. He tried to recall the party. He remembered going to a classmate's birthday. It was in a dorm and spread out to several rooms. He was just going from room to room in search of anyone he happened to know. At every stop he was plied with more beer. He accepted the drinks as a means of covering his discomfort at feeling so 'out of place'. He remembered that he wished he had accepted Greg's invitation for pizza and beer. He had said, 'no', because the food and drink was at a local strip club. 'Suit yourself' Greg had said. 'But you're going to have to grow up someday, might as well do it with a guide.'
House watched Wilson trying to remember the incident. He thought that maybe he shouldn't have reminded James of this indiscretion, but perhaps it was a good thing he did. Sometimes Jimmy's sainthood was a pain in the ass. It took some of the fun out of him.
Wilson was still reliving the parts of the party he could remember. He had been in five rooms. Each time a person entered a room, they were handed a beer and told that they had to finish it before they could leave. This was viewed as anencouragement to 'chug it'. In the first room, James had sipped his brew like the nice little eighteen-year-old college sophomore he was. This let him in for a large amount of ridicule. He chugged the beer and left the room. His buzz didn't hit until just after room two. He was enjoying himself by room three. By room four he...Oh my God!
House could see the recognition of embarrassment in Wilson's eyes. He was remembering the party all right.
Room four was where he met an equally drunk co-ed. She thought he was cute. Well, he was. She knew he must have been younger than everyone else there. She asked him how old he was. When he answered eighteen, she was delighted. 'You're legal then!' Wilson remembered being confused by that. He said eighteen, not twenty-one. He wasn't supposed to be drinking. She took his hand and led him to a closet. There, James Wilson had his first very oral experience. How the hell had he forgotten that? He tried to remember room five, but the only thing he could recall was going to a payphone in the hall and calling House to come and get him. Then he recalled House tapping him on the shoulder and saying, 'Time to go home Jimmy'. Oh God! Now he remembered... Wilson closed his eyes.
"Told you so," House said softly. "Look we all do things we regret especially when we're young. I haven't told you half the things I did in college when I was finally out from under dad's roof and away from that insane moral compass of his."
"I thought I knew every 'Greg House' legend there was at Michigan?"
"Well some of the legend was exaggerated and some were just out and out lies."
"Which legends?" Wilson asked intrigued.
"The ones I tell," House said shrugging.
Wilson just shook his head. So, everybody including the great Gregory House lies.'
"I have wasted a lifetime trying to teach you that." House shifted in the chair again. "Okay, this is really getting intolerable."
"Maybe we could use a diversion?"
"Like what?"
"I don't know? You're the evil genius. Think of something!"
"I don't perform upon command," House said pouting.
"So I've heard." Wilson said snidely.
"Oh snap! Is this national ridicule your best friend sexually day?"
"Sure is. Didn't you get the card I sent?"
"Haven't been to my office to check the mail yet."
"Our options seem to be getting desperate. Either we use the balcony or we try to make it to the restroom. If we use option one, I would prefer that the extra fluid be placed on your side of the wall."
"There is a third option."
"What?"
"Coffee mugs?"
"That is incredibly disgusting."
"So, that would be a no."
"No!"
"Okay then. Let's try for the diversion, as I would really prefer not to have any wet spots on my balcony that could cause someone to slip."
"Got it!" Wilson picked up the phone and asked the operator to page Dr.'s House and Wilson over the hospital's PA system to the ICU ward on the fifth floor STAT.
They both stood up and waited for the page.
Dr. House, Dr. Wilson to the ICU ward code red. Dr. House, Dr. Wilson to the ICU ward code red..
House cracked the door to the outer office open again, in time to hear Margie tell the milling crowd, "They have an emergency! Now get out of this office and find something to do. And leave them the hell alone or I will be on you all like a fat man at a Krispy Kream shop!" The group left grumbling. "All clear," she whispered to the door.
"How'd you know?" House asked her.
"How much coffee have you two had?" She asked tilting her head. "I am surprised you could hold out this long."
Wilson looked impressed. "You figured out that we sent the page?"
She shook her head smiling. They could be so gullible. "Neither of you have a patient in the ICU at this time." She pointed at House, "You don't have a patient at all! Now go before they catch you!"
They limped to the door and made it into the hall. With as quick a pace as bad legs and a full bladder would permit, they gained access to the men's room and the urinals. Relief at last! While the hand washing ritual was occurring a set of stomachs began to growl. "Shh," House said to Wilson, "You'll give us away."
"That was you."
"Was not."
"Was too," Wilson said drying his hands. His stomach growled again. It echoed in the room. "Traitor," he said addressing his mid-section.
House smiled at him. "It is lunch time you know, and we did miss breakfast this morning." He finished drying his hands and nodded toward the door. "Check and see if it's safe to go out."
"Why me?" Wilson asked with alarm.
"Because no one is looking to cause you harm. Drip honey coated concern all over you, certainly. But not injure you."
"Oh," Wilson said accepting that logical explanation. He limped to the door and checked carefully outside. "I don't like honey you know," he said back over his shoulder to House. House just waved his hand at him to 'get on with it'. Wilson checked both ways up and down the hall. "We're good," he declared to House.
They left together and returned to Wilson's office, where the Dean of Medicine greeted them. Uh oh!
"So, emergency in ICU over?"
"Uh..." Wilson stammered.
"Yup. Patient is doing quite well. Good thing we got there when we did!" He looked at Wilson for support.
Cuddy addressed Wilson fully. "Dr. Wilson?"
"Uh..."
Oh for God's sake Wilson! "Okay, there was no emergency in ICU. We just needed a diversion so we could get out of Wilson's office without being mobbed by the women staff members. Now I know how Jagger feels."
"No you don't. More like you know how Frankenstein's monster felt while being pursued by the villagers with torches." She said nastily crossing her arms over her chest. Ha! Got you.
"Nice," House said with that disgruntled tight-lipped smile he had, the accepting one that didn't quite reach his eyes.
Wilson found his voice. "Dr. Cuddy, I'm the one that had us paged."
"I know that."
"You do?"
She turned to House. "What is he taking for pain?"
"Coffee."
"Well for God sake, give him some of your Vicodin. The pain is obviously affecting his ability to think."
"Obviously," House agreed nodding. "It could be hunger too."
"What?" Wilson asked defensively.
Cuddy turned to him and sighed. "I knew it was you, because there is a log of every emergency call in the hospital and where the call was placed from. The logs are accessible from my computer. You didn't think I would hear it and not check to see what required two of my department heads? Especially considering it was you two!"
House gave Wilson a sad but wise look. "That's why I didn't do it. It wasn't a plausible diversion."
Margie opened the office door. "Excuse me Dr. Cuddy, but your secretary called. She said that the accounting department is questioning a shipment received today. I might have misunderstood her but I believe she said the hospital received nine thousand gross of lubricant?"
Cuddy's eyes almost popped out of her head. Her mouth hung open. "What!" she yelped.
"Nine thousand gross?" He looked at Cuddy sympathetically. "We could always sell them on eBay," he offered helpfully.
She fled the office heading for accounting. House collapsed into a chair laughing fit to die. He wiped his eyes with his hand "Oh Margie! That was by far your best rescue to date!"
She patted his shoulder. "I wasn't kidding. They really did receive all that lubricant. There are cases of the stuff piled everywhere in receiving."
"Oh my God!" House laughed until his ribs hurt. Margie giggled, but Wilson was looking thoughtful. "Why so glum chum?" House said holding his side.
"You knew she would trace it back to me. You had it figured out long before I ever thought of it, didn't you?"
"So?"
"Am I just that stupid?"
"Stupid? You? Of course not! I've just been at this longer than you have. When I said I had figured it out before you did, I was talking from experience. I had myself paged months ago to get out of clinic duty. Cuddy caught me," House gave a little one-shoulder shrug. "There is nothing stupid about you. I wouldn't give you my time if you were, and you know it. Besides, I don't call you the 'boy wonder oncologist' for nothing," House finished proudly.
Wilson looked at House and Margie. They did remind him of his parents at the moment. Both smiling at him like he had brought home a straight 'A' report card.
There was a knock at the door. Margie excused herself and then reappeared holding a couple of white boxes. House's nose twitched and his stomach growled.
"Is that by any chance the unmistakable smell of a Reuben sandwich from Goldstein's Deli?"
"It might be," she answered smiling. She placed the white box on the desk in front of him.
"Marry me!"
"You live for rejection don't you?"
He nodded sheepishly. "That and corned beef."
Margie made Wilson sit at his desk and then gave him a white box as well. She left again for a few moments and returned with a couple of bottles of soda. She then left the office closing the door quietly behind her.
House opened his box and was delighted as a child to find not only his favorite sandwich but, chips, and a warm cookie. Margie thought of everything! Wilson's box was much the same except in place of the Reuben was a very thick turkey sandwich on whole wheat.
Wilson was at a loss as to how to open his soda. House took it from him and unscrewed the cap. He handed it back to Wilson and then opened his own. He offered a toast. "To Margie, my future wife."
Wilson clinked his bottle against House's. "She's right. You do live for rejection."
"And corned beef," he said taking a huge bite out of the sandwich.
*
That night when they got back to House's place Wilson was restless. He couldn't get comfortable. He couldn't seem to quiet his mind. He had the feeling you get when there is something important that you have forgotten to do. House did what he could to help. They played video games, watched TV, and House even played what ever Wilson wanted to hear on the piano. Nothing seemed to help. This was normal for House, but very unusual for Wilson. Finally Wilson told House not to worry about him and to go to bed. He would sleep when he could. House was reluctant to leave Wilson alone but as he was exhausted and grateful to be so for a change, he agreed and limped toward to the couch, having already refused to allow Wilson to sleep on it until his burns were better. "Night Jimmy."
"Night Greg." Wilson went to the bedroom. He sat on the bed and thought about this weird relationship he had with House. They seldom called each other by their first names. They shared little of their feelings with each other. House was brilliant, stimulating, funny, and mercurial. You never quite knew what to expect from him. He would be uncaring one moment when you wanted to talk about your impending divorce, and then show his caring side by following you to the last place you ever saw your brother, sitting with you in the cold until you were ready to leave. Or pick you up from a party where you had succeeded in the extreme, of debauching yourself, and not remind you of it for nineteen years. That was the friend that was Greg. He would also sleep on a couch instead of his large comfortable bed because his best friend was a klutz. He could feel tears starting at the corners of his eyes. Sentimental, he chided himself. What would House think? He glanced toward the nightstand to check the time. It had to be after two. He noticed a book lying under some AMA Journal. House reading a book? Curious he picked it up and was shocked to see the title. It was the Samuel Beckett play 'Waiting for Godot' in hardback. He flipped to the front cover where it was inscribed.
Greg, I thought this day would never come! There were times I thought we were just like these characters, waiting for something that might never happen, but always together. That's what makes the wait worthwhile, the person you spend it with. I hope we'll always spend the time together. Happy graduation doctor! James
He had kept it all these years. It was dog-eared and had a very used look to it. Wilson could feel the wetness on his cheeks now. Once again, he had discovered by accident the way House felt about him. He made a quick decision. He rose from the bed and walked stiff legged over to his brief case. He removed a sheet of his stationary an envelope and his rosewood pen. He stood at House's dresser and thought for a moment. A million words flooded into his mind. All the things he wanted to say, all the things he should say. There wasn't that much paper in his case and Greg would have been bored by page six anyway. Brevity James! Attempt an economy of words. He printed 'Greg' neatly on the front of the envelope. Then he looked at the blank paper. He wrote something he felt was very important to him, but unnecessary because House would do so automatically. 'Take care of Margie.'
Wilson stared at the paper again, then smiled as he wrote three more words underlining the first. He folded the paper and placed it in the envelope. He placed the envelope in the book and placed the book back on the night table. Wilson yawned and lay down on the bed, pulling the covers around him. Now his mind felt settled. The last thing he thought of before sleep stole him was three words. Always with you.
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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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