Author’s note: This chapter has some strong language – this is my first time using any sort of language like this in my story. I chose to use it though because I want to illustrate a point – the words we choose can hurt those we say it to. My intent is not to offend anyone – I don’t speak this way, and I have a real problem with people who do (ask my Grade ten students if you don’t believe me! They’ve gotten the lecture before!). As my boyfriend will no doubt gleefully point out, there are glaring medical inaccuracies in this chapter. That’s why he’s the doctor and I’m the teacher. Please read and review!

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I feel like a spectator--an appalling business

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead (Act One)

Two Days Earlier

House awoke the next morning in a great mood – or at least in as great a mood as he was ever in. Even the sharp twinge in his thigh couldn’t ruin his day today. He couldn’t wait to get to work and terrorize his ducklings. If he was lucky, he’d even be able to sexually harass Cuddy. Yes, it was going to be a good day. Nothing was going to pull him down today.

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“It could be lupus”

“Is it ever lupus?!” snapped House. Chase just shrugged.

“You never know. If I suggest it enough, one of these days it’s bound to be. I mean, if I threw a quarter a hundred times, it couldn’t possibly be heads every single time. So I figure at some point, it will have to be lupus” Chase tried to ignore the look Foreman was giving him.

“Bet you twenty bucks that it will never be lupus!” said House, reaching for his wallet.

Chase shook his head and held up his hand. “Forget it House. Confident as I am, I am not making bets with you”

“You Brits are such sissies” grumbled House as he put his wallet back. The blond Australian just rolled his eyes and went back to the patients chart.

House listened disinterestedly as his ducklings continued to argue amongst themselves about what the correct diagnosis must be. Usually he relished solving the medical mysteries, but today he couldn’t muster any enthusiasm. He finally decided to cut his losses. He tossed his tennis ball aside and grabbed his cane.

“Page me if you find out anything” said House as he limped towards the door.

“Where are you going?” asked Cameron.

“I’ve got a hot lunch date – you jealous?”

“Of Wilson?” she scoffed. “He can have you. You guys deserve one another”

“What can I say? He completes me!” chirped House as he hobbled out the door.

---

House found Wilson in their usual spot in the hospital cafeteria. He didn’t look up as House slumped into the seat across from him.

“What are we having for lunch today?” asked House as he tried to peer around the chart Wilson was holding in order to catch a glimpse of the plate.

“Caesar salad, with carrot and celery sticks on the side”

“Ew!” House wrinkled his nose. “Are we on a diet?”

“Would you still love me if I got fat?” Wilson asked dryly, still not looking up from the chart in front of him.

House pretended to think for a minute. “No. If you got fat, I’d have to leave you for a thinner, younger, sluttier model”

“And that’s exactly why I’m on a diet. Because if you left me, I would just die” Wilson deadpanned. “Face it House, you complete me”

“Ha!” House grabbed a carrot stick and pointed it at Wilson in triumphant proclamation. “I just told Cameron the same thing not twenty minutes ago. I knew it! We must be soulmates!”

“Well that would certainly explain how, after three divorces, I still have you. No wonder I couldn’t keep a wife – I was already secretly betrothed to you”

“Oh Jimmy, those women just couldn’t love you the way I can”

“So the rumors are true – you two do share a not-so-secret love affair” Cuddy’s voice came from over House’s shoulder.

“Hardly” Wilson said, putting the file down at last. “We’re not in love; we’re just sleeping together”

“And we’re looking to branch out. How do you feel about a little ménage a trois?” House chimed in, smiling suggestively.

Cuddy just rolled her yes. “You were due in the clinic ten minutes ago” she said, abruptly changing the tone of the conversation.

“And?” asked House.

“And get going!” Cuddy snapped.

“You didn’t say the magic word!” House sing-songed.

“I’m not saying ‘please’ – you’re not doing me a favor!” she said, crossing her arms.

“Actually, the magic word was ‘marmoset’ but since crossing your arms like that makes your cleavage even more distinctive, I’ll accept that instead.” said House. He turned to Wilson. “You coming?”

“Wilson looked blandly at him. “No. Why would I spend my lunch watching you do your clinic duty?”

“Because I’ll let you be my naughty nurse and I’ll make sure they give you a lollipop when you go”

Wilson hesitated, then downed the last of his coffee in one gulp. “Ah, what the hell. I’ll probably regret it, but it might be good for a laugh”

“That’s the spirit!” House said brightly as Cuddy followed the two of them out of the cafeteria, shaking her head.

---

The first patient that House had to see was already waiting in Exam 3 when House and Wilson arrived. They entered to find a tall, muscular man, with buzzed blond hair sitting on the edge of the exam table. He reminded Wilson of one of the American Gladiators, though he wasn’t sure which one. The man didn’t seem to be fazed by the fact that the doctor had kept him waiting.

“What brings you here today?” House asked in a bored tone, throwing himself into a chair, his cheek cupped in his hand. If the patient was put off by House’s demeanor, he didn’t let on.

“I’ve been getting these stabbing pains in my left shoulder. It’s been going on for about thirty-six hours, on a scale of one to ten it would rate about an eight, it’s chronic, I would describe it as a sharp pain right in the socket, I haven’t sustained any injury and this has never happened before.”

House stared at the man for a moment. Wilson spoke up from the corner. “You’ve been to the clinic before I see”

The patient laughed. ‘Is it that obvious?”

“Only slightly” Wilson responded with a grin.

“If you two are done flirting with each other” House interrupted, “I’d like to check the range of motion in the arm and draw some blood.”

House continued with his exam as Wilson absently gathered the needle, antiseptic swabs and band for the blood test.

“Wilson, do the blood test for me”. House ordered as he started writing on the patients chart.

Wilson looked at him.

House looked back and sighed, as if Wilson was being stupid on purpose. “If you’re going to come in here and play my naughty nurse, then you need to get in to character” he clarified slowly, as if speaking to a very small child.

Wilson flushed slightly and shook his head slightly but decided to indulge House.

He tied off the patients arm, found the vein and drew the blood. He was removing the tubing from the patients arm and placing a Band-Aid in the crook of his elbow when things got real bad, real fast.

House accepted the blood work from Wilson and drolly responded. “Good work there, naughty nurse. You get a gold Star of David for that”

At the mention of the Jewish symbol, the patient’s eyes got very dark. He wrenched his arm away from Wilson’s hands as if they had burned him. He then shoved Wilson away from his with an unpredictable force. Wilson crashed into a cart of equipment, barely catching himself from falling by grabbing the counter behind him.

“Fucking kike!” spat the man who had been so pleasant only minutes ago. “Get your goddamn filthy hands off me!”

His eyes burned with a venomous hate that chilled Wilson to his core. Wilson was so stunned that he didn’t know how to respond. Should he respond? He couldn’t find any words. He just stood there, clinging to the counter in shocked silence.

The patient ripped the band-aid from his arm and angrily jerked his shirt sleeve down again, shooting Wilson a look that could have stopped an angry lion in its tracks.

Wilson looked to House, desperate from support.

House wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Wilson took a ragged breath and bit his lower lip as he tried to compose himself. He straightened up and forced himself to look at the patient.

“I think it’s best if I leave. Dr. House can finish the exam”

Wilson turned and headed for the door. He hoped, prayed that House would tell the patient to get out, to go to hell, something.

House didn’t say a word.

Wilson nodded, more to himself than to anyone else, and left the room. He stayed remarkably composed until he made it back to his office. Then he hoarsely called Cuddy, told her that he thought he must be coming down with something and that he would have to take the afternoon off. She heard something in his voice, but something told her not to question it just then. She simply offered to find someone to cover his appointments, and said that she hoped he would be feeling better later. He got off the phone with her and lay his head down on his arms, waiting for House to inevitably come.

Wilson waited more than four hours until House finally showed up. By that time he had managed to calm his nerves enough to start working on some patient files. He wasn’t really aware of what he was doing; his body seemed to be on auto-pilot. He didn’t look up when he heard House come in. He just stopped writing, closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing.

House was uncharacteristically quiet as he came in to Wilson’s office. He had procrastinated on coming here. He had finished with the patient before quietly telling him that if he ever came to this hospital again, he would leave in more pain than he had come in with. He then went to Cuddy and abruptly relayed the events of that afternoon. He left before she could say anything. He couldn’t stand the thought of her asking a million questions that he couldn’t answer. He had gone back to his own office and watched “General Hospital” without really seeing it. The only reason he was here in Wilson’s office now was that he simply couldn’t put it off any longer.

So here he stood, completely unsure of what the hell he was doing there. Wilson wouldn’t even look up to meet his eyes.

“Are you okay?” It wasn’t much, but it was all that he could come up with.

An (angry?) half-laugh escaped Wilson’s throat. “Fine” he said, his voice betraying him. He resumed writing on the chart in front of him, but his hands were trembling so badly that the pen shook. House watched Wilson’s trembling hands, and knew how hard he was trying to keep control. House wanted to close his hand over Wilson’s and let him release his demons. Instead, he reached over and gently plucked the pen from Wilson’s shaking fingers.

House wondered if he should say something. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. Wilson was usually so cool, so collected. Seeing him tremble like this, watching him slowly crumble in front of House was something completely new.

House was still trying to figure out what to say when Wilson broke the silence for him.

“You just stood there” House looked at Wilson. The oncologist’s brow was furrowed, as if he was thinking very hard. He was staring past House, at something that House didn’t think he could ever see.

“Wilson, I-“ he started but Wilson cut him off.

“You just stood there. That patient called me a- well, a you-know-what, and you just stood there.” Wilson sounded as if he finally piecing a great puzzle together, as a sense of certainty crept into his voice.

House felt like a child again. His head dropped and he became very interested in a piece of invisible lint on his pants. Wilson continued to speak, his voice rising as the hurt of the earlier events bubbled back to the surface.

“You are un-fucking believable, you know that?! You stood in your doorway last night, and told me you had my back. And I believed you! Then you just stand there today, and don’t say a goddamn thing! And what’s more, you waited FOUR HOURS to come and find me! How could you do that to me?!” Wilson’s face was contorted, as if he were in pain.

“I didn’t know what to say?” House offered lamely.

“Bullshit!” snapped Wilson. “You have a response to everything! But I guess you only jump up to defend yourself. Forget that the person who you consider your best friend is being verbally attacked. You let it happen! You didn’t even try to say something!”

“I told him not to show his face around here again” House said, forcing himself to meet Wilson’s fiery gaze.

“Did you finish the exam first?” Wilson sneered, knowing the answer. House looked away. “That’s what I thought. You heard what he called me, and you finished the exam anyways.”

“I had to. I was his doctor” This was the wrong thing to say and House knew it the minute the words left his mouth. Wilson flew into a fury.

“Don’t you even DARE try that!” he hissed. “I think given your track record in the clinic, and this hospital in general, we know full well that if something really pisses you off, you have no problem stepping all over your Hippocratic Oath.” Wilson stood up and began pacing the office like a caged tiger. “No, you didn’t stay because you’re his doctor. You stayed because leaving would prove that you gave a damn about me. Sorry to inconvenience you.”

House opened his mouth to apologize, but nothing came out. What was he supposed to say? Everything that Wilson said was true. House had stood by and watched passively as the only person he really cared about was needlessly attacked. House couldn’t have felt any lower if he had said the vile words himself.

Wilson stopped his manic pacing and stood in front of House. In the span of seconds his face had gone from angry to sorrowful. His sad eyes searched House’s face, for what House wasn’t sure.

“You’ve said a lot of crummy things to me Greg” His voice was low. “You’ve been sarcastic, and rude and downright cruel at times, but I always saw past it. But now…you standing there today and not saying anything was the most hurtful thing you’ve ever done. I guess silence speaks louder than words in this case.”

“Jimmy-“

“You need to go”. Wilson was matter-of-fact.

“Jimmy-“ House tried again but once again Wilson cut him off.

“You need to go, Greg. I can’t do this right now. Please, just go.” With that, he turned away and went back to his desk. He picked up another pen and returned to the files. This time, his hands were still.

House stood there for a long moment, wishing that Wilson would say something else to him. He wished Wilson would shout at him, or hurl obscenities at him or something. As Wilson sat there, pointedly ignoring him, House realized how painful silence could be.

He limped for the door, turning to look at Wilson once more before he left.

“If it takes me the rest of my life, I’ll make this up to you Jimmy. You have my word”. Then he was gone.

He didn’t hear Wilson’s whispered reply to his retreating back.

“Your word used to be enough. Now I’m not so sure”