Chapter 9:

House woke the next day to the sounds of whimpering that tore at his heart. He immediately got off the couch, hissing as his thigh tortured him for it, and heavily limped into Wilson's bedroom.

He found the oncologist lying in bed stiff as a board. Tears were tracking their way down his face and his jaw was clenched so tight House could hear his friend's teeth grinding into nothing. His eyebrows were knit into one with lines of deep pain creasing his face and his fists were clenching the sheets beneath him so much as to turn them white with lack of blood.

Another whimper escaped through tightly closed lips and Wilson arched his back as an outlet for the pain.

House limped off to the bathroom where he knew Wilson had last left his pain medication then grabbed a dose and a half and a cup of water. He went back into the bedroom where he could tell Wilson was trying not to cry out in agony.

"Wilson," he called gently as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Mnnh," was Wilson's only answer. He didn't trust himself to open his mouth and do anything but yell. His leg was on fire, roasting in agony while being pierced with a red-hot poker and venom of burning heat wrapped around the limb with searing tendrils.

Tears continued streaming out of Wilson's tightly closed eyes, making House want to cry for him but he quickly stamped down on the feeling; it wouldn't help his friend if he suddenly started crying as well, in fact it would probably freak him out.

"Wilson I need you to open your mouth so you can take your pain meds," he instructed soothingly.

Wilson opened his eyes to look at House, noticing that his hand was ready and waiting to dump the pills into Wilson's mouth the second he opened it. Another wave of excruciating agony hit him and he arched his back then slammed his hand down on the mattress of the bed as he waited for it to calm down marginally.

House watched as Wilson rode through the strongest of the pain, his heart breaking for his hurting friend all the while. When Wilson reluctantly opened his mouth, the diagnostician automatically dumped the dose in then poured some water in as well.

Reflex took over and Wilson swallowed so he could breathe again. He could feel House's nimble fingers massaging the thigh of his hurting leg in an effort to help. If he hadn't been in inexplicable agony, the oncologist probably would have made some sort of joke about how much House was showing that he cared but at this precise moment, he didn't care. He welcomed the touch almost as much as he did the drugs.

When he thought he could speak again, Wilson opened his eyes to look at House who was not surprisingly staring at him, his cerulean blue eyes reflecting concern and anxiety that Wilson himself had shown many times over when their roles had been reversed.

"Thanks," he said. He didn't really know what to say honestly, he just wanted to help soothe his friend's worries as his own pain began to slowly recede.

House nodded his answer but kept massaging all the same. His hands needed some sort of distraction and he knew, thanks to both Cameron and Wilson, touch could help heal and soothe so a massage seemed like the next step. His long fingers kneaded the tense muscles in Wilson's thigh, patiently working out the knots. It was a good thing he was worried about Wilson otherwise he would be in trouble.

Deciding he needed to do something else, House looked around for an excuse to leave for a few minutes. His eyes fell upon the bag on the floor filled with melted ice cubes. Without explaining what he was doing, the diagnostician got up, grabbed the bed and scrambled out of the room as quickly as his own agonizing leg would let him.

He came back ten minutes later. He'd decided that it was time to take his own pain meds and do his morning business before he went back into the room so he could spend as much time as was needed with his friend. Normally he wouldn't even bother but he guessed that Wilson could use the company and if he was honest with himself he didn't want Wilson out of his sight.

"Brought you a fresh ice pack," he announced cheerily as he walked in and placed the item on top of the bandaged leg where the bruise had been.

Wilson attempted to sit up, grimacing and clenching his teeth when he moved his injured leg at the same time. "Thanks," he said before his brows furrowed in confusion, "what happened?"

"Well, you went hunting with Self Important Jerk and-"

"I know that, what I meant was what happened last night?" Wilson cut in, not really in the mood for House's sarcasm.

"Why don't you tell me? What do you remember?"

"Uhm, we went to Cuddy's wedding, I got a call from Melissa, we argued, I came inside and started getting undressed," Wilson summarized succinctly. His brows furrowed as he tried to remember the rest because he was sure there was more. It made his head ache to try and remember through the haze of pain medication but eventually it came to him and he blushed in embarrassment and frustration.

"I wasn't paying too much attention where I was going," I was too mad, he added silently though he knew he might as well have spoken it aloud, "and I smacked my leg against the chair."

"That's what I thought," House conceded, mentally kicking the chair though it wasn't the chair's fault in any way, sense or form.

"Thanks for helping me last night," Wilson whispered.

House furrowed his brows, "Did you think I'd just leave you on the floor in agony?"

"Of course not!" Wilson defended automatically. A very small part of him actually did think that but he knew that was a ridiculous thought and therefore set it aside easily. "I'm just grateful that I have you."

He winced at just how sappy his admission had sounded and waited for House's acidic comment, knowing it was coming as sure as the sun rose in the east and set in the west. He almost jumped when a tender hand brushed against his cheek.

"Me too," House admitted softly.

"Okay where's the apocalypse?" Wilson almost asked aloud. Instead he settled for nuzzling against the hand and closing his eyes in contentment. There was no way he was going to ruin this moment with sarcastic words, not for the world.

Through the numbness of medication and ice, pain spiked through his leg making him grimace. He felt the comforting hand still for a few seconds before it slid lightly down his face, coming to land on his arm where it began to massage in gentle strokes.

Once the pain had calmed, Wilson opened his eyes to look into House's worried ones and cleared his throat. "What time is it?"

House chuckled, only Wilson would want to know the time when he was still suffering from a lot of pain. He looked around to find the clock and almost started in shock, "It's almost noon."

"What?" Wilson asked shocked. "How long have you been up? Why didn't you wake me earlier? Have you eaten yet?"

"Wilson calm down," House demanded. "I woke up when I heard you whimpering and don't you dare apologize for that," he added sharply when he saw his friend's mouth open and his eyes turn apologetic, "you should have woken me up long before the pain had gotten that bad."

"Believe me, it wasn't that I didn't want to," Wilson answered heavily.

House nodded knowing exactly what Wilson meant. The oncologist had woken up in so much pain that he couldn't move for fear of making it worse. He cursed himself for not putting Wilson's pain meds on the bedside table before he went to bed last night. If he had Wilson would have been able to get some relief sooner.

"Are you hungry?" Wilson asked hoping to distract House from the direction he could see his thoughts were going.

"I could eat, you?"

"You could eat me?" Wilson smirked.

House returned the smirk, "I could, yes but not right now sweetheart I have a headache."

Wilson chuckled, "Let's get you something to eat."

"Uh-uh, you are staying right where you are," House announced firmly, planting his hand on Wilson's chest to still the oncologist's movements. "I'll go make some eggs."

"You're going to cook?" Wilson asked surprised.

House rolled his eyes, "Well we can't eat take out every day believe it or not and my cook is currently out of service."

Wilson smiled tiredly, "I could get used to that."

"Well don't, it's just until you're back on your feet," House grumbled as he walked out to the kitchen. He frowned as he realized it would be a year at least until his friend would be able to stand for any length of time. With a sigh he resigned himself to an extended period of KP. It would be a long year.


I've decided to end it here. It's a short chapter but it's a good place I think. My muse for House fanfics has begun to wither, leaving a lot of stories unfinished - something that drives me crazy so I'm ending this story long before I had actually planned but I do intend on writing a sequel showing how things have gone for the pair during Wilson's recovery and his adventure to get back to his normal life. Thanks for sticking with me, I appreciate it!