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Learning the way
by gena fisher
Learning the way
Dr. Cameron frowned, her concentration broken by a strange, muffled sound. She looked up from the journal she was reading and scanned the hallway. At nearly 8:30 activity had slowed to the occasional nurse hurrying after a call, or a few students checking on last minute details. She generally liked being at the hospital after dark because to her when night fell it hid all the pain and suffering and left the illusion of serenity behind. The muffled sound cleared a bit as it neared; voices and a kind of uneven thumping. She rose from the desk and peeked out into the hallway.
Drs. Wilson and House were coming towards House's office, that in itself was nothing unusual. What was unusual was the fact that House was leaning on Wilson's shoulder, his cane gripped so tightly in his left hand his knuckles were white. Stunned, it took her a moment to react and by the time she reached the hall, House seemed to have reached his limit. Wilson helped him lean against the wall, holding him in place with an arm around House's waist and the other pressed against his chest. "Easy, Greg," he was murmuring. "Just a few more steps, you can do it." But House didn't look like he could move. His skin looked grey with pain and he had his eyes squeezed shut.
"What's happened?" Wilson jumped at the sound of her voice, his head whipped around so that he stared at her with wide eyes. House didn't even react, but as Wilson's grip on him loosened, he slid a little ways down the wall toward the floor. Cameron hurried forward, grasping his left arm and hauling him up.
"A slight - accident," Wilson explained. "Help me get him to a chair." House let out a startled gasp when they moved towards his office.
"I can - do it - myself," he snapped, or would have if he hadn't been so close to screaming.
"Yeah, sure you can," Wilson assured him. Cameron had to take House's cane so she could loop his arm over her shoulders. His grip finally loosened on the smooth stick but for a moment she wasn't sure he'd let go. She'd always been fascinated by his walking stick, it was so much a part of him, expressing his moods more clearly than a neon sign could have. Exasperated he would tap people with it to get their attention. Angry he would jamb it into the floor and lean on it. Distracted he would twirl it. Playful he would balance it on one hand. Hurting - hurting he would sit with eyes closed, rubbing the polished handle against his cheek or forehead or temples like a blind man relearning the world. It was never far from his reach. He could walk without it but the results were painful, for him and for those forced to watch. Cameron clutched it in her left hand, feeling the heat from his own dissipating from its surface. A moment later she drew his left arm up and his hand found it, trapping her in their tangled grasp.
"Just - need to sit - down," House said in a breathless whisper. Cameron felt the unexpectedly solid press of his body into her with the first step, she knew Wilson had taken most of his weight on his own shoulders and was surprised to discover House obviously carried a lot more muscle on his slender frame than it looked like. His whole body was tense, she could feel sweat breaking out along his back and see it at his hairline. "Lounge chair," he directed and together she and Wilson got House settled in the corner chair. She waited, crouching beside the chair as Wilson carefully eased House's right leg up onto the ottoman. Cameron had her eyes on Wilson's hands. She'd had the opportunity to work with him in Oncology during some of the slow times in Diagnostic Medicine and always admired the way he treated everyone with compassion and respect. James Wilson was a brilliant doctor and a great teacher, he cared for his patients with the same passion with which he sought to eradicate the disease from which they suffered. His demeanor and disposition were polar opposite to those of Gregory House and yet they shared a single-mindedness to their profession and the pursuit of a solution that bordered on obsession. She'd often wondered if that might not be the source of their unlikely friendship, a bond which she knew endured despite House's abrasive personality and selfish nature. Right now, Wilson was doing his best not to hurt House, to comfort his physical pain as well as he could. She found the sight of his tenderness towards the older man strangely moving. House seemed oblivious, eyes closed and lips pressed into a thin line, he appeared so out of it that when he reached out and caught up his cane again it startled her. She glanced up expecting to see his usual sardonic expression but found he had a look of faint relief on his face as his hand caressed the cane.
"Allison could you get an icepack?" Wilson asked. Cameron nodded but took a moment to leave, glancing back over her shoulder as she did. She'd never seen anyone touch House so intimately before and was surprised he allowed Wilson such freedom. Wilson might be his friend but House wasn't the touchy-feely type, he didn't want anyone helping him or reacting to his disability in any way but on his own terms. She was still thinking about it when she returned with one of the small icepacks they kept in the office freezer. Wilson took it with a distracted nod. "This might be kind of cold," Wilson warned.
"Cold ice? You should patent - shit!" House yelped, his whole body stiffening as Wilson pressed the ice against his knee.
"I warned you," Wilson said mildly but Cameron noticed he wore a anxious expression and kept his gaze locked on House. For a moment the only sound was that of House's ragged breathing then came the telltale rattle of House's pill bottle. Eyes still closed, he pulled it out, popped the lid one handed, downed the small white pill, put the lid back in place and the bottle disappeared all in one smooth motion. "Why didn't I think of drugs?" Wilson asked, his voice carrying a sarcastic edge.
"Not an addict?" House guessed.
"Greg." Cameron saw anguish flash in Wilson's eyes and then amazingly House's hand brushed across Wilson's wrist, the move so quick if she hadn't been studying them she would have missed it. Neither man said a word but she could feel the apology which seemed to pass between them. "You rest for a while and then I'll take you back to your place."
Wilson rose, and took Cameron's arm, leading her into the adjoining office. "Will he be okay?" She asked once the door closed behind them. "What happened?"
"He'll be fine. Runaway gurney," Wilson said with a shrug of his shoulders, "it bumped House's bad leg."
Cameron gave him an admiring look. "You're good with him. You make it look so easy."
Wilson raised both eyebrows, "It isn't." He searched around, eventually pulling out House's red mug and filling it with the dregs of the day's coffee. He peered into the cup before taking a cautious and grimacing but drank it anyway. They stood side by side, both studying House where he sat sprawled in the chair on the other side of the glass.
"Does he appreciate it," Cameron pressed, "does he even notice?" Wilson turned to look at her, his gaze sharpening as he put the cup down with a hollow thump.
"He notices." If she had been listening she might have heard the note of confidence in Wilson's voice but her attention remained rooted on the man in the other office.
"Can I ask you something?" She didn't wait for Wilson to reply, she knew she could ask and he'd be the only person with an answer. No one knew Gregory House better than Wilson did. He was the man everyone looked to for insight into House's complex mind, he translated the unfathomable actions and brusque attitude into terms others could understand. But more importantly he cared about the other man and struggled daily to make others see passed the bitter and angry shell House had built around himself. It had only taken a few weeks and a couple of bewildering encounters with her new boss for Cameron to realize James Wilson acted as a buffer, not just between House and the world but between the world and House, keeping House grounded and active but protecting him from things that would crush him. "Do you know what he thinks of me?"
The heavy silence which greeted her question drew Cameron's awareness. Wilson wasn't looking at her now, he'd turned away, rinsing out the red mug and setting it aside. "As a doctor?" He asked.
"No." Cameron moved to his side, her hand on his arm. She could feel the solid muscles of his forearm and smell the distinctively manly scent of deodorant, sweat and cologne. Cameron found herself taken aback, ambushed by the sudden consciousness of Wilson's masculinity. She'd heard the rumors about him and he did have a reputation with the nurses, but his mild manners and boyish demeanor made it a shock to come face to face with just how attractive and sexy he really was. "As - a woman." Wilson turned then, she couldn't read the look on his face but it probed deep and she felt herself blush to the roots. "I like - admire him," she stammered. "He's brilliant and he works so hard to find the right answer. He - cares so much -"
"Uh, well, he is brilliant," Wilson said hesitantly, "but that's not the basis for, uh, any kind of, uh, relationship. I mean, hero worship is good, he's heroic in a sense." Cameron waited but Wilson seemed to have stalled out.
"You don't think he has any feelings for me?"
Wilson picked the mug up again, turning it over and over as he stared at it. "He thinks you're a good doctor, able to think fast and in unconventional ways. House likes that in his people." He paused and a small smile flickered across his mouth, "House doesn't like normal. He says it's boring."
"So - you're saying I shouldn't be normal," Cameron said. "He likes my skills but thinks I'm boring."
Wilson laughed but sobered quickly. "He isn't ready for what you're looking for," he said quietly, "I don't know if he ever will be." He moved closer to the glass wall, his expression serious, sad almost, "don't push him, Allison, he'll fall."
Cameron moved closer, "I can be careful."
Wilson shook his head, "this is House you're dealing with, being careful won't work." He gave her an appraising look, "can't you just be like everyone else and think he's a jerk?" She smiled an apology. Heaving a sigh, Wilson squared his shoulders. "Well, think about it. I'm going to take him home." She watched him push through the glass door into House's office. Wilson reached out and gently shook House's shoulder. It took House a second to get his bearings but when he did, he accepted Wilson's help in getting to his feet. She watched them leave the office together and let Wilson's words swirl in her head. House might not be ready yet but she could bide her time. She'd find out his feeling for her one way or the other.
~~~~~~~
House hissed as his right leg took some of his weight. Wilson quickly slipped an arm around him. "Okay?" He asked. House nodded and after a moment pulled out of the circle of his friend's supportive grip.
"So, you and Alli spend study hall passing notes?"
"And giggling in the restroom," Wilson agreed. "She thinks you're cute."
"Maybe I'll ask her to the Prom," House said.
Wilson shot him a speculative look. "You like her?"
"You jealous?" Something in House's tone made Wilson pause.
House took a couple of steps before he realized he'd lost his shadow. "She's a very attractive woman and she has a crush on you." House grinned. "Better watch yourself, House," Wilson told him, fighting a rising tide of panic, "she's the kind of woman who won't take no for an answer. She'll try to get a ring on your finger."
House raised his right hand, his cane clutched tight and an expression in his eyes that could have been either triumph or sorrow. "Won't fit over this," he said and it sounded a bit like sorrow.
"Other hand," Wilson pointed out.
House made a show of confusion, "my mistake." He limped off towards the elevators still wearing a look of bewilderment that Wilson wasn't sure was an act. He watched House go and even as he did a thought began to form in the back of his mind. He'd have to play this out carefully. Cameron wouldn't just give up and House wasn't the kind of man to avoid a challenge. He and House had been through so much together; he'd watched his best friend nearly die and then go through months when death might have been kinder. It had changed House and it had changed him. Before they had been friends, close friends, but the pain, the intensity of facing death and loneliness, and being the only person either could count on had welded them together, tangling and twisting their lives in ways neither could explain. They shared a symbiotic type of existence, dependant on each other for survival, for comfort and the only happiness either ever experienced. Wilson hoped he'd planted the seeds with Cameron. If she thought she had the power to destroy House, maybe she'd leave him alone. He allowed himself a small feeling of hope and vowed that if she ever worked up the courage to confront House about his feelings for her and Wilson found himself in a position to warn her off again, he'd take it. There was no way he'd let her get inside House's shell, there was only room for one and he wasn't about to step aside.
Wilson found the thought of House and Cameron having some kind of physical relationship didn't bother him in the least. Sex was just sex, it didn't mean anything, if you didn't let it. Hell, he'd had his own share of flings, none of them changed what he and House shared. If it came to it, he would encourage House to take advantage of the situation, remind him of how hot Cameron looked, how easy it would be to get sex. He would offer House his patented date advice and maybe even some condoms. If he trivialized the situation, made it appear as insubstantial as one of his own encounters, something House had witnessed dozens of times over the years of their friendship, it wouldn't threaten his world. Wilson only had two things he cared about and the most important of those was standing in front of the elevator, using his cane as a guitar as he rocked out to an easy listening version of I'm too Sexy. It might be selfish, it could be wrong, but he loved House and he wasn't going to lose him. "Wait up," he called and hurried to where his friend stood. Greg had once told him that together they could rule the world. He'd settle for just eking out a little happiness from the cold and bitter place they each seemed to occupy and he didn't care how he had to do it.
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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 Fox Television, 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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