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The Seer
by gena
House was gone. Not just no longer in the room but missing from all the normal hiding places. It wouldn't have mattered; not being around him was much more pleasant for everyone involved, than being around him. But they were in the middle of a case and they needed him.
"You tried the-"
"Yes," Chase answered, ignoring Foreman's glare.
"How `bout -"
"Of course," Cameron sighed.
Foreman closed his eyes and counted silently to thirty, absently noting he'd had to increase the length of his count in proportion to his employment with House. "Okay, then someone's going to have to drive over to his place and -"
"His bike's still here," Chase pointed out. He had his face pressed against the top of the conference room table so the words were a bit muffled but his tone suggested Foreman should know that House hadn't left the building.
"The roof then," Foreman said and waited. Cameron stared at him and Chase slowly raised his head, the disgust plain in his eyes.
"We tried the roof two hours ago; right after the basement, the lounges, and the showers." He shot Cameron a look as if he were too tired to go on and she should take up the story. She did.
"And that was just before we bribed Wilson's assistant to let us into his office, turned the clinic upside down and checked under Cuddy's desk!"
"You thought he might be hiding under her desk?"
Cameron radiated disgust this time. "I'm just pointing out that the man has vanished. We've tried everyplace." The three of them fell into dejected silence, staring at nothing in particular. After all the time they had spent with House, observed him in numerous situations, and discussed his idiosyncratic habits, he still managed to baffle them. They had no idea where he might go or what damage he would do when he got there. "We need help," Cameron said quietly. Chase and Foreman shared a look, then turned to her. "We need the only expert there is on House."
"Wilson only went home a few hours ago," Chase pointed out, "He was with one of his patients all night. Rachael said it was a pretty bad one, the family took it hard and Wilson wanted to be with them. What makes you think he'll come back here and help us search?"
"What makes you think he'll help at all?" Foreman asked. He shrugged off the puzzled looks his companions turned his way. "Look, Wilson only does things to protect House. What if he feels our not finding House is for House's good?"
"He wouldn't -" Cameron began but Foreman cut her off.
"He would - he did." Now they were gaping at him as if he'd just suggested House had shrunk to the size of a flea and was dancing on the table. "I - went to Wilson when Cuddy put me in charge. I thought he could offer some insight into his behavior, some guidance on how to handle him."
"How to take over," Chase said.
Foreman glared again. "I just wanted to know how he does it. How he can get House to do things."
"And he wouldn't share." Cameron stated. Her gaze drifted out at the balcony House shared with Wilson. It didn't make sense, that balcony. It was oddly shaped and the short dividing wall in the middle kind of made it resemble two cages. She'd often wondered if the building's architects had known House and Wilson when they designed it because it mirrored the strange relationship between the two men fairly well. It seemed to keep them contained but allowed them access to each other and even the short wall seemed logical; Wilson could get over it easily if the situation called for his special brand of intervention or protection but it kept House in place unless he consciously made an effort to scale it. She had seen him do it, seen him swing himself awkwardly over that wall and then stand there looking lost. She never knew if Wilson watched him make his painful way across the boundary with sympathy or pride or relief. He would meet House out there and they would stand, close enough to touch but never actually touching, and when House returned there would be some measure of humanness returned to his strangely intense eyes.
"He never does," Chase observed. Cameron shook her head, drawn back to the situation by his words.
"It wouldn't hurt to ask," Foreman said.
"Ask who - what?" All three turned as Wilson entered the office. He had on a different suit but the ends of his hair appeared damp and his face had a worn look he was trying hard to disguise with a bright blue tie. "Sorry, am I interrupting?" He made his way to the coffee machine and, plucking House's red mug down, poured himself a cup.
"No," Foreman said. Cameron and Chase both had their eyebrows raised and were giving him the head motion to encourage him to ask Wilson. "House is missing." Wilson turned to face them, his own ample brows arched.
"Missing? Couldn't have gotten far, his bike is in its spot and he's not the type of hitchhiker to get a lift from a pretty girl," Wilson pointed out. He sipped the coffee and waited.
"We can't find him, we've looked everyplace," Cameron told him with a sigh.
Instead of asking ridiculous questions about the locations they had searched Wilson asked, "What's the case you're working on?"
"Uh," Chase frowned, darting a quick look at the others for support before answering. "Twenty year old female, admitted for severe abdominal pain, and fever." He outlined the symptoms and treatments, the results of each and everything House had ordered done. After a moment's consideration Wilson closed his eyes and tilted his head. Silence, except for the small click of his fingernail against the side of the cup, filled the room until all three of House's team thought they might explode if Wilson didn't do something. He opened his eyes and smiled.
"Sounds like that thing in Vietnamese cooking," Wilson said in apparent relation to nothing. The three younger doctor's shared puzzled looks. "I don't know what it is, House would know. If you go through the kitchens you'll see a door marked ELECTRICAL METERS just passed the cold storage locker. Go through it and down the hallway until you come to a door with a sign that says "Mr. Reynolds' Office". I think it's some kind of a joke. There's a small patio behind that door, not an office," he said. "There's a shade tree and a plastic chair and the staff goes out there for smoke breaks."
Three jaws went slack, and three pairs of eyes widened in surprise. "You," Chase flailed for words, "you - know where he is from - from my telling you about the patient?" They'd seen House diagnose a patient from merely looking at their shoes but to have Wilson instantly know House's whereabouts from learning the particulars of their newest case seemed to short-circuit their abilities to function.
Wilson heaved a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose and suddenly looked very tired. "Yeah. Now go before he does something crazy." The three young doctors scurried out, low murmuring accompanying their hurried steps. Wilson sighed again but this time let the faintest ghost of a smile tip the corners of his mouth upwards. He drew out his cell phone, punched speed-dial and waited. "I told them. They're on their way," he said. "And next time don't call me, call them yourself. Now I'm going to get weird looks from them for months." He paused, a real smile breaking out across his face. "Oh, I might have given them that impression." His smile grew as soft laughter issued from the tiny speaker. "It's best to make them wonder." And hung up, still smiling.
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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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