Hangman

PART FIVE
*
It is a Tuesday when Chase eventually returns to work, the apprehension having sickened him, and his cold almost better so that he can’t hide behind it any more. He walks back into the hospital feeling like a ghost, and watches for a moment, no one noticing him. Wilson stands at the desk, handing a file over to one of the receptionists. His jaw is half-covered in a very purple bruise, and the woman next to him says quietly:
“Doctor Wilson, your nose is bleeding again.”
Wilson says nothing, just rubs his hand across his forehead and shuts his eyes for a moment as a thin trickle of blood makes its way down his upper lip.
House bangs out of the clinic over to the pharmacy, and as he waits for his Vicodin he keeps glancing over at Wilson, who doesn’t look back. The space between them yawns uncomfortably and Chase feels his skin prickle.
And then Cameron comes out of nowhere, screaming:
“Chase!” and wraps him into an ineffectual hug. The room seems to pause for a second, and over Cameron’s shoulder Chase can see Wilson freezing, blood flecking his lips, and House popping four Vicodin in one go, and then both House and Wilson are walking away and Chase trembles.
He feels Cameron give him another comforting squeeze.
“I’m glad you’re back Chase.” She says, finally releasing him but holding his hands in front of him. Chase resists the urge to push her away because it’s not his fault if Cameron has moved her pathetic schoolgirl crush onto him, and he supposes that at least he’ll be kinder than House. But then, thinks Chase, most people are kinder than House. Cameron is surveying him again and he can’t help but feel that she’s trying to figure him out like some type of maths equation. Only Chase knows that she’ll get the wrong answer.
They start to walk towards the conference room, since House is in the clinic and there’s nowhere else to go.
“How’s… everything?” asks Chase. Cameron looks at him and in her eyes he can see it all. Can see House and Wilson pointedly ignoring each other, House snapping and snarling at everything like a caged animal, Wilson being cold and inanimate, that bruise on his face getting more and more purple, refusing to let anyone treat his probably broken nose.
“It’s been ok.” Cameron says, drawing her eyes away from Chase, preferring to scan the oncoming corridor, “Foreman’s been vaguely moody. He doesn’t appreciate doing your clinic duty for you.”
She smiles at Chase and he attempts to smile back. The weight in his stomach is growing larger and heavier with each step he takes and what he wants to do is to run home and drink himself into a drunken stupor.
“Well, here we are then.” Cameron extends an arm in a welcoming gesture, her bright smile contrasting with the worry in her eyes.
As he walks into the mercifully empty room, Chase can’t help wondering if he’s going to be sick. For a moment it’s as though nothing has changed, it’s like the past few days are gone and he’s never been tied up naked and he’s not been intimately acquainted with that appendix scar on Wilson’s stomach, and House is maybe still talking to him. Except that Chase chucked that all away and now he has nothing at all. He bows his head and swallows hard and hopes to God he’s not going to cry, not here, not now.
Chase isn’t too busy trying to stop crying not to notice the sharp tap of House’s cane on the polished hospital floor. Chase can hear it getting closer, feel his heartbeat quicken. He lets out a small, strangled sound and rushes over to the coffee pot, busying himself with the hot water. He could run, he knows that, because he can run faster than House, but where would he *go*? He bites shaking lips together and swallows back tears. He can do this, whatever happens, however bad it is.
The door opens.
Chase doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t need to. He can feel House’s eyes burning through his skin. He half freezes holding the hot water, his hand clasping the handle, his eyes watching the rising steam. Chase has to put it down eventually, his hands are shaking too badly.
“Chase, Cameron.” House’s voice is dull. “Cameron, we’ve got a new patient in exam room 4. Go take her patient history; you’re good at that. Foreman’s doing my clinic duty. Chase, you’d better go to the lab and start to look at her blood samples; we don’t want you spreading your cold to the patient.” House turns to leave again. Chase swallows hard. This is not good.
Cameron has already gone to get the patient’s history, leaving Chase alone with House.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” House says, his expression closed, his eyes hard, “I’m not going to send you a welcome back card no matter how long you stand there for.”
Chase isn’t really looking at House. He’s trying to avoid letting his eyes touch him because he doesn’t want to see the man that he’s lost.
“House-” Chase stops himself, “Greg, I need to-”
But House has already walked through the door to the adjoining office. Through the glass wall Chase can see him sit in his chair, slip on his headphones and press play. Chase knows then that House is gone.
*
Later on, when Chase has done the blood tests and shown that their patient has lead poisoning (or anthrax, or haemophilia, or just a headache- he’s way too preoccupied to notice), he corners Wilson.
“We need to talk.” He says, and Wilson doesn’t walk away.
“I’m sorry Chase.” He replies sullenly. “I’m sorry I kissed you, I’m sorry House caught us, I’m sorry he’s left you, I’m sorry he tied you up and I couldn’t get you free, I’m sorry his leg is busted, I’m sorry he’s just a horrible person most of the time, I’m sorry for everything.” He manages to meet Chase’s eyes. “Because that’s what you want, isn’t it? Confirmation that the whole thing is my fault so you can go back to hating me with a clear conscience.”
There is nothing Chase can say to that, so he just looks wordlessly at the bruise on Wilson’s jaw. Before he can stop himself he is touching it with cold, shaking fingers.
“Did House- did he-”
Wilson’s pager goes off and he snatches himself away from Chase’s hand.
“What do you think?” he asks bitterly, and walks away.
*
The page is from House, and Wilson finds the other doctor waiting for him around the corner.
“Haven’t you done enough?” he asks, pinning Wilson to the wall with his cane. “What do I have to do to make you leave him alone?”
“We were just talking.” Wilson snaps, pushing House away from him. “And *he* came up to *me*, so if you want to hit me, go ahead.”
House looks Wilson up and down before sneering at him.
“Why bother? It’s not as if it has any effect on you.” House moves his cane so Wilson can escape.
“I don’t understand you House,” Wilson says. “You want something and you work hard to get it, but when you finally achieve it you throw it away at the first hurdle.”
“I wouldn’t call kissing my best friend a hurdle.” House snarls. Wilson sighs.
“I give up House. I honestly do.”
House rams his cane into Wilson’s chest.
“Well I don’t.”
He pushes himself onto Wilson and thrusts his tongue into Wilson’s mouth. It’s angry and it hurts House’s jaw, but he doesn’t stop until Wilson is scratching at his chest gasping for breath.
“There’s something wrong with you House,” Wilson gasps, drawing a hand across his mouth. “Something seriously wrong.”
“It never used to bother you.” House smirks.
Wilson shivers slightly as House runs his hand down Wilson’s cheek, a surprisingly gentle movement, but one that still oozes anger and hatred. Wilson refuses to lean into the touch but his mind, unbidden, remembers days forever ago when they lay in each other’s arms and everything seemed to be ok. The small part in the back of his mind started to whisper words like “love” and “The One”. And then he realised that Greg could never want him, never need him the way he needed and wanted him. So therefore he allowed the relationship to fall apart, and maybe even some little bit of James was glad.
“It did.” Wilson responds as House trails his fingers down his neck. “It always bothered me.”
“And yet you still-”
“You were a mistake, House.” Wilson snarls, and at last the other doctor looks shocked, dropping his hand from Wilson’s shoulder. “YOU WERE A MISTAKE.” He repeats.
For a brief second House is transported back to the time when he and Wilson finally decided to split. He didn’t cry until the door had shut behind the other man for the last time.
Wilson can see the lost look reflecting in Greg’s eyes and then they harden again and he stops being Greg and goes back to being hard-hearted House. House shuffles backwards away from Wilson.
“A mistake?” he says. “You make a lot of mistakes Jimmy.”
With that House leaves.
*