Author's Notes: Spoilers 5x16 "The Softer Side" and the promo pics for that episode.
House is nice... Cuddy and Wilson must find a way to deal with it, and it's harder than they thought. House Wilson friendship and Huddy.
Press Reset.
There was no valid train of thought to this...
House's train of thought had always run on separate tracks, making the things House would do very simply the exact things others wouldn't do: a cripple favouring daredevil pass times, a man working with frail, dependant humans, seeing only numbers. He had his own behavioural code that all who knew him knew by head and heart simply because it differed greatly and the consequences of slipping up were grave... he'd taught them to walk this way, talk this way... think his way and that was how they kept up: they were just synchronised after years of programming.
Now, however, House walked, chin up high, limp barely visible, among the footsteps of a thousand others... and he whistled.
They lost him... they all lost him: stuck in his old pattern themselves, they could only watch as he blended in with the mass.
They were Wilson and Cuddy... they'd had dreams about him blending in Yet, Cuddy shivered at the thought of his obedience... Wilson's entire self-image shrunk away at the thought of a whole lunch.
This House was a home for neither.
House was gone.
Of course, they thought back to the pre-infarction House all the time when he was still a jerk...
But that's how cravings worked: once it's there, you have no use for it at all.
-
Wilson and Cuddy met up in front of House's office: they looked at each other, certain that they would bring House home.
"Are we sure we want to do this?" Wilson asked, appearing uneasy as he let out a wavering sigh.
"Yes... personality changes can be serious, Wilson, you know that."
"I do, I do, but... what if he's happy, Cuddy? Doesn't it make you feel slightly guilty that we are... basically assuming he's dying because he's happy? Maybe he has... listened, maybe his leg really isn't hurting as much and... he's just reacting, just celebrating, God knows how long it has been since we saw him celebrating anything! It's not him, I know that... but it once was, and I know that too." Wilson's hands fell to his side, eyes resting on the worn tips of his shoes.
"I know..." Cuddy shifted restlessly. "But what if? And if not, we can help him heal!"
They entered, seeing his stilled, unmoving body in his recliner, and Wilson dashed to his side, feeling for a pulse while Cuddy stood anxiously behind him. "What if, you said? He's... unconscious. Should we ring any bells yet?" Normally, he wouldn't even have thought about calling anyone... that would be a violation of their old code, this new one, however, he didn't know yet.
"We'll see what we have to do once he wakes up... you know he hates it when people see him this way." She said, gnawing at her lip, having only just suppressed the urge to use the past tense.
"I don't know anything." Wilson responded dryly. No, not knowing anything was the old House... with this new one, he simply knew too much to filter it.
After about half an hour of watching an unmoving friend whose vital signs showed no acute danger, save for his shallow breathing, House regained awareness.
"Huh? What are you doing here? Did my patient collapse or something?" He struggled to sit up, being pushed back by Cuddy instead: "Patient's fine, House. You collapsed." She pressed the oxygen mask the ever vigilant Wilson delivered: This, they knew... very selfish, but they were comfortable taking care of a hurting House.
House sighed, shying away from Cuddy's penlight as it offended his corneas.
"New... drug trail." It resounded hollow through the mask.
"Thought it worked. Side effects got me... you want me to quit it now, right?" He looked truly saddened. Cuddy's hand tightened around his.
"It could still work out if we control those side effects... you don't have to give it all up again." They exchanged a meaningful glance, House's eyes breaking away first, and Wilson stepped in:
"This is good, House. If this works... I can only be happy, but why?"
His hand strayed over to House's shoulder, catching himself trying to pull it away, realizing it might be allowed now.
"More bad days... guess I didn't know how to keep up appearances any more." A pained smile crumpled his dry lips.
"You don't have to do that, House." Wilson sighed, looking directly into House's eyes.
Yes, he had to do that. It was what he did. What everyone knew he did!
"I think I do." House mumbled. Cuddy planted a light kiss on his lips, smiling, leaving her arms around his neck.
Wilson smiled at both of them, shaking his head. "We can make this work, I think."
"What if it doesn't work? What if I lose again? I don't think I'd..."
"Hey," Cuddy roughly shook him: "don't say things like that, House. We'll be there."
He nodded.
"This whole thing... it's confusing."
He looked up at them, shyly.
They laughed:
"We know."
Big thanks to my wife DHF for making me continue this... I hated it for some reason. Prove me wrong, I don't mind.
House is nice... Cuddy and Wilson must find a way to deal with it, and it's harder than they thought. House Wilson friendship and Huddy.
Press Reset.
There was no valid train of thought to this...
House's train of thought had always run on separate tracks, making the things House would do very simply the exact things others wouldn't do: a cripple favouring daredevil pass times, a man working with frail, dependant humans, seeing only numbers. He had his own behavioural code that all who knew him knew by head and heart simply because it differed greatly and the consequences of slipping up were grave... he'd taught them to walk this way, talk this way... think his way and that was how they kept up: they were just synchronised after years of programming.
Now, however, House walked, chin up high, limp barely visible, among the footsteps of a thousand others... and he whistled.
They lost him... they all lost him: stuck in his old pattern themselves, they could only watch as he blended in with the mass.
They were Wilson and Cuddy... they'd had dreams about him blending in Yet, Cuddy shivered at the thought of his obedience... Wilson's entire self-image shrunk away at the thought of a whole lunch.
This House was a home for neither.
House was gone.
Of course, they thought back to the pre-infarction House all the time when he was still a jerk...
But that's how cravings worked: once it's there, you have no use for it at all.
-
Wilson and Cuddy met up in front of House's office: they looked at each other, certain that they would bring House home.
"Are we sure we want to do this?" Wilson asked, appearing uneasy as he let out a wavering sigh.
"Yes... personality changes can be serious, Wilson, you know that."
"I do, I do, but... what if he's happy, Cuddy? Doesn't it make you feel slightly guilty that we are... basically assuming he's dying because he's happy? Maybe he has... listened, maybe his leg really isn't hurting as much and... he's just reacting, just celebrating, God knows how long it has been since we saw him celebrating anything! It's not him, I know that... but it once was, and I know that too." Wilson's hands fell to his side, eyes resting on the worn tips of his shoes.
"I know..." Cuddy shifted restlessly. "But what if? And if not, we can help him heal!"
They entered, seeing his stilled, unmoving body in his recliner, and Wilson dashed to his side, feeling for a pulse while Cuddy stood anxiously behind him. "What if, you said? He's... unconscious. Should we ring any bells yet?" Normally, he wouldn't even have thought about calling anyone... that would be a violation of their old code, this new one, however, he didn't know yet.
"We'll see what we have to do once he wakes up... you know he hates it when people see him this way." She said, gnawing at her lip, having only just suppressed the urge to use the past tense.
"I don't know anything." Wilson responded dryly. No, not knowing anything was the old House... with this new one, he simply knew too much to filter it.
After about half an hour of watching an unmoving friend whose vital signs showed no acute danger, save for his shallow breathing, House regained awareness.
"Huh? What are you doing here? Did my patient collapse or something?" He struggled to sit up, being pushed back by Cuddy instead: "Patient's fine, House. You collapsed." She pressed the oxygen mask the ever vigilant Wilson delivered: This, they knew... very selfish, but they were comfortable taking care of a hurting House.
House sighed, shying away from Cuddy's penlight as it offended his corneas.
"New... drug trail." It resounded hollow through the mask.
"Thought it worked. Side effects got me... you want me to quit it now, right?" He looked truly saddened. Cuddy's hand tightened around his.
"It could still work out if we control those side effects... you don't have to give it all up again." They exchanged a meaningful glance, House's eyes breaking away first, and Wilson stepped in:
"This is good, House. If this works... I can only be happy, but why?"
His hand strayed over to House's shoulder, catching himself trying to pull it away, realizing it might be allowed now.
"More bad days... guess I didn't know how to keep up appearances any more." A pained smile crumpled his dry lips.
"You don't have to do that, House." Wilson sighed, looking directly into House's eyes.
Yes, he had to do that. It was what he did. What everyone knew he did!
"I think I do." House mumbled. Cuddy planted a light kiss on his lips, smiling, leaving her arms around his neck.
Wilson smiled at both of them, shaking his head. "We can make this work, I think."
"What if it doesn't work? What if I lose again? I don't think I'd..."
"Hey," Cuddy roughly shook him: "don't say things like that, House. We'll be there."
He nodded.
"This whole thing... it's confusing."
He looked up at them, shyly.
They laughed:
"We know."
Big thanks to my wife DHF for making me continue this... I hated it for some reason. Prove me wrong, I don't mind.
