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WIP: stabbed!Wilson, Part 14
The call he'd been waiting for came four hours later. He'd gone to bed and managed to fall asleep, and so the shrill ringing of his cell woke him from confused dreams about empty offices, garden chairs and wire coat hangers.
This time it was Cuddy. House barely waited until she had finished her sentence before he hung up and was up and out of bed.
It was just past ten p. m., and the small town of Princeton was getting ready to pull up the sidewalks for the night. The loud engine of the Honda caused more than one citizen to look up and frown in disapproval. But House was in luck. The policemen that were dispatched to patrol the area between Baker Street and PPTH were too busy buying a late-night snack to notice him ignoring speed limitations and running red lights.
Cuddy was waiting for him in the hospital lobby next to the elevators. As House cut past the clinic counter towards her, he was a little surprised to find himself observing that tonight, Cuddy looked every minute of her forty-one years and five months. For a brief second, he realized not only on a rational but also on an emotional level that what was happening was affecting her just as much as him.
The second had passed when he came up beside her.
"He's awake?" House clutched his cane, willing Cuddy to give the answer that he wanted - needed - to hear.
Cuddy, however, only turned her eyes away. "No," she said. House drew in a deep breath, and then he felt Cuddy's hand on his arm. "He was- he opened his eyes for a few moments." House looked back at her, and Cuddy licked her lips. "I- I can't say for sure, but I think he was- it was-" She closed her eyes briefly. "I think it wasn't just a coincidence."
"You think?" House held Cuddy's eyes, not allowing her to look away. She didn't, and he could see that her eyes were unusually bright.
"Yes, House, I think. He was around only for a few seconds."
"Did he speak?"
"He can't speak. He still has the trache."
House only kept looking at her, and now Cuddy did lower her eyes. "He did try to say something. I think he was asking for you." She crossed her arms. "Or about you."
"About me?"
Cuddy sighed. "He asked whether you were alright."
House held her gaze for a moment, and then he was the one who turned his eyes away. He stabbed a finger at the elevator button. A moment later, he felt Cuddy's hand on his arm. "House, it doesn't necessarily mean anything."
House turned his head. "It means he remembers what happened," he said. "Which means he still has his memories, which means his brain isn't totally fried."
"Or it could mean... anything. House, it took him way too long to wake up to-"
"If he could ask for me, he's not a complete vegetable." House held her eyes, and finally, she relented. She let go of his arm and nodded.
"Okay," she said. "Okay. Let's go see him. Maybe he'll- wake up again."
House nodded and then turned his head as the elevator doors rattled open.
When House and Cuddy entered Wilson's room, David Wilson was sitting in the visitor's armchair, resting his chin in his hand and gazing at his son. He looked up as House closed the door.
"David," House said with a nod. Wilson senior blinked somewhat disorientedly and then returned the nod.
"Greg. Hey."
Without paying Wilson's father any more attention, House turned his eyes to the man in the hospital bed.
Wilson didn't look any different than before. His eyes were still closed and his face relaxed, almost but not quite looking as if he were simply sleeping very soundly. Except that maybe, this time he actually was only sleeping.
House stepped up to the bed and hung his cane on the nightstand, resting both hands on the edge of the bed and leaning forward. "Wilson," he said. "Time to wake up."
Wilson didn't react. House reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him a little. "Wilson," he said again, ignoring his heart which had decided to relocate to his throat. "Wake up. You're late for your date with evil nurse Brenda."
House could almost hear Cuddy's indulgent raising of an eyebrow, but he didn't turn around. Instead, he felt his breath catch in his throat as he saw Wilson's eyelids flutter. He could see Wilson's eyes moving under the thin skin, rapidly flitting back and forth, and then, Wilson opened his eyes and looked at him.
House had heard people talking about mere seconds going on for an eternity, and he had always rolled his eyes and made smart remarks about how those people were taking Einstein a little too literally. He would continue to do so, because in his head he knew that the present second was still only a second that went by in the blink of an eye. However, he had to admit that it did feel a whole lot longer.
Wilson's eyes were unfocused at first, misty and confused, but they adjusted quickly enough, and then House could see Wilson looking at him, really looking at him, and in the brief moment that remained from that one second House realized two things: one, that it was still Wilson behind this set of dark brown eyes, and two, that Wilson was about to speak.
"Shh, don't say anything," House said quickly as Wilson's lips parted. "You've got a trache. Talking's probably not such a good idea."
Wilson complied and kept silent, but his eyes were searching House's face in a confused inquiry. House held Wilson's eyes for another moment, and couldn't help a small smile stealing onto his face. "Welcome back," he said. "Took you long enough."
From the corners of his eyes he could see both Cuddy and David Wilson coming up beside him and looking over his shoulder, but he didn't turn his eyes away from his friend. "You were stabbed, Wilson," he said. "In the neck. We had some trouble finding blood for you because you decided to be choosy. There was a lot of excitement, and we'll have to check you out more thoroughly now that you're awake, but from where I'm standing, it looks like you'll be okay."
Wilson kept staring at him for a few moments before his eyes moved first to his father and then to Cuddy, only to return to House. He blinked and licked his lips, and then House could see him mouth two words.
Thank you.
Then his eyes slipped close again. House slowly straightened up and swallowed, his throat feeling sort of dry all of a sudden. You're welcome, he thought.
He turned away to pick up his cane, and found himself face to face with Cuddy, who was wearing a smile on her face that wrinkled the corners of her eyes and almost made the tears that shone in them spill over.
"He'll be okay," she said, her voice a bit choked. "He'll be okay."
And then House was faced with yet another surprise as Cuddy suddenly wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. He had to quickly grasp the bed frame again to keep his balance, and then he only stood there, feeling small tremors running through the warm body that was pressed up against him.
After a few moments, he raised his free arm and put it around Cuddy. "Yes," he said quietly. "He'll be okay."
I decided to do the commenting thing a little differently this time, because I'd like to find out just how many people exactly are reading this without making you comment. If you're reading this fic, please fill out the poll below. You don't have to make a statement, if you don't want to voice an opinion, please simply click "I'm reading this fic". I'm doing this to find out how many people exactly I'm pissing off when I'm taking weeks and weeks to get my butt in motion and write the next part. I really don't have a problem with anyone lurking/not commenting, and I will never ask of you to leave comments to each or any part, if you don't want to. It's really just a head count. So, please take the time to check the box? Thank you :).
[Poll #1048772]