Lunch time, the time of day when people at Princeton Plainsboro teaching hospital, generally, attempted to find food. The extreme heat meant that many of the staff who found themselves off duty or able to grab a quick bite were situated inside the cafeteria, the air conditioning up to full. Those who considered themselves brave enough to venture outside, looked longingly back at the building, and weighed the possibility of entering it again without having to leave the shade.
Unaware of the battle of indecisiveness, Doctor James Wilson sat in his office with his shirt sleeves rolled up and his lab coat hanging on the back of his chair. He flipped another folder closed and ran a hand wearily across his forehead. Though the air-conditioning was on and his windows wide open he still felt the perspiration trickle down his neck. He reached for another file and delved head first into his work, trying to find a distraction from the intensifying dull throb in his skull.
He finished one page and glancing up made a grab for the cold cup of coffee in front of him. He lifted it to his lips then sighed as nothing came out. Apparently it wasn't half empty, it was fully empty. Standing stiffly Wilson stretched his back gently and groaned. He rolled his hunched shoulders willing the muscles to relax and crossed his office to the coffee pot by the window.
As he stood directly under the breeze of air con and filling his cup he glanced sideways through the glass door onto the balcony that separated both him and House in time to see the other Doctor holding a pile of what looked like clothing in the crook of his arm close the blinds and vanish from view.
With a shrug, House was always up to something, Wilson drank long and deep from his mug and then grimaced as the liquid burnt his throat. He really should go home but with the work he still had to do...no he had cancelled his appointments for the day and could sit and catch up first. He sat back down and pulled himself closer to the desk. Picking his pen up he read his last comment and started again.
So absorbed was he that he did not pay any attention some twenty minutes later or so to the door to his office opening quietly nor to the person who limped through it. It was not until a sharp bang announced the head of a cane on his desk that he even so much as gave his visitor reason to suspect he was aware of their presence at all. Disappointingly he didn't jump.
"House..." he sighed tiredly without looking up from his work. He raised his free hand in a placating sort of gesture and continued writing with the other. " I have three months worth of charting to do and two clinical trials to submit patients for. Whatever this is make it quick."
The other doctor's response was to draw the cane back across the desk onto the floor and back hooking Wilson's satchel with it.
"It's lunch time." House said. His tone light and matter of fact. He limped over and dropped himself into the chair opposite causing Wilson to sigh again when he heard the seat springs creak as though he realised that the sound meant his visitor was hunkering down for the long hall. He needed to nip that in the bud quickly.
"And..."Wilson began still without looking up, as though eye contact would seal his doom. " ..You've lost your way to the cafeteria again? Funny how you always seem to find it no problem when i'm there."
A rustle of foil sounded before House spoke again. "It's Ham and pickle day." He said as if this answered all of the potential questions that were about to come up.
That did it, Wilson paused in his notation his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "You don't like pickle..." he finally looked up at his friend.
House sat relaxed, leaning back into the chair as he fiddled with a foil package.
"Exactly. However, thanks to our esteemed dean of medicine cutting corners on this months food budget the cafeteria now...on Tuesdays serves ham and pickle. I've been forced to seek out alternatives" House replied as he peeled the two bits of sandwich from inside the foil apart to peer at the filling.
"You've taken up cooking?" Wilson enquired as he wiped his hand over his sweaty forehead again and went back to his notes. He frowned suddenly as a thought struck him and cast about for his bag. That foil looked very familiar.
"No...I've found another cafeteria. They serve better sandwiches anyway." House emphasised his point by putting both sandwiches together and biting into the soft bread.
Long suffering, exasperated, annoyed. All of these things at once made Wilson put his hand up to his forehead and rub. "Is that my lunch." He demanded.
House didn't answer merely chewed. "Is it just me....or is the true art of sandwich making restricted only to those of your faith? How do you Jews do it?" he asked as he bit into the bread again.
Wilson sighed, deeply, again at the joke and put his pen firmly down.So many potential avenues to take in response but rather than get outright angry, which never irked the caustic diagnostician anyway, Wilson went with..."Sorry Pharaoh house....the secrets of my people's sandwich making is denied to you." He remarked sarcastically. "Now return the sandwich to ye old sacred lunch box lest the wrath of Egypt and the ten plagues of Princeton reign down upon on you." He held his hand out in a firm 'give that to me now' gesture.
House watched him and chewed his last mouthful. Carefully calculating the boundaries of which he could push in this instance. His blue eyes roved across his friends face a second before he gave a sniff and threw the half-eaten sandwich back into the foil, wrapped it haphazardly and placed the Tupperware box it resided in firmly back on the desk. Using his cane to knock it back into place as well as knocking over Wilson's lamp.
"I knew I never should have let your people go!" he exclaimed as he sat back in the chair. "But...the parting of the red sea was cool I suppose. Hard to ignore that."
Wilson scowled for the first time, his face etched with a mingle of annoyance and sweat."Let's see, if we continue your rather stereotypical assessment we have two choices either doomed to walk forty years in the desert or doomed to a rule of tyranny. Tough call." He began but the running joke between them came to a grinding halt as the oncologist was silenced by House's intensive, inquisitive gaze.
The unkempt looking doctor tilted his head slightly. His eyes flickering between the open windows and the air vent.
"What?" Wilson demanded as he followed his friends gaze around the room.
"It's a cool 68 degrees in here" House stated and flashed a piercing look back to Wilson's face. " Air conditioning is on and all of the windows are open...but you're sweating and still flushed. Are you sick?"
House rose slightly and leaning over the desk put the back of his hand on the unsuspecting Wilson's forehead. Wilson blinked then threw the hand off with a shrug and backed out of reach. He glared at House.
"It's not anything you'd be interested in." He told House whose expression stated very much the opposite. " I have a summer cold if you must know..." he deflected. " Why are you still in here anyway? You've gotten most of my lunch why aren't you in your own office? "
"You're air conditioning is working. Mines broken." He said in a bored way. "Summer cold hu? What are the symptoms? Low-grade fever? What 99.9-100.2?"
Wilson stretched and rubbed the bridge of his nose as if to alleviate the headache. He closed his eyes . " What has your hand gone digital now? That's impressive even for you."
The rumpled looking man in white band shirt and jeans didn't respond. Wilson opened his eyes to find the chair empty then jumped slightly when he noted movement to his left. House was now sitting on the edge of the desk closest to him. How the hell had he gotten there. The guy could be stealthy despite what his gait suggested.
House reached both hands up to the sides of Wilson's neck. He palpate the glands a second or so before the oncologist once again shrugged him off. House frowned looking offended.
"House...I'm not doing this with you." Wilson said shaking his head. " Leave me alone. Like I said it's just a summer cold."
House fumbled in his pocket and procured a penlight. He clicked it on and took hold of Wilson by the chin. "Open up..." he said trying to get a look in his friends mouth.
The pressure of the diagnosticians thumb on his chin made Wilson's mouth open slightly despite his intention. Houses head tilted down as he used what little opening he had managed to achieve to examine his fiends throat. With an exclamation of annoyance that sounded more like a hoarse "ack!" Again Wilson shrugged House off and rubbed his Jaw. The hands were back at his throat giving another press onto the glands, using the moment of confusion to his advantage. Wilson jerked back and waved his hands again. "House I said no."
Looking annoyed and wounded House withdrew his hands, picked up his penlight and slid it back into his pocket. He shook his head and stood up. He limped away from Wilson and for a second the light haired Doctor was sure he was about to grab his cane and storm off. Instead he sat down in his original chair and spun his cane between his fingers frowning.
Silence stretched between the two for a few seconds. Wilson felt slightly guilty. He opened his mouth to...apologise? He wasn't sure himself when House beat him to the punch.
"Why is it when I genuinely want to help people they don't want my help?" He asked causing the oncologist to gawp at him. Slowly Wilson swallowed and frowning actually looked at House for the first time. The obvious statement wouldn't work.
"By people you mean more than me today?" Wilson waited, the glowering of the other man intensified but he didn't respond prompting Wilson to look at him more closely.
"Is that Why you changed your clothes?" Wilson ventured causing House to look down at the black jeans and t-shirt combo he had replaced his blue ones and shirt for.
"Something like that." House stated. He stood again and reaching into his back pocket pulled his prescription pad out. He took the pen from Wilson's desk and wrote on it for a few seconds then capping the pen ripped the sheet off and handed it across. "That will help with the fever, the throat and headache. You'll need something different if you develop a cough."
Wilson took it and glanced at the writing. He felt a warm sort of glow in his chest and smiling looked back up to find House watching him. The other doctor pulled a face.
"Oh don't do that." House snarked rolling his head.
"What?"
"That. 'The I'm so thankful for a friend that cares I feel all warm and gooey inside' look. That's the virus talking."
Wilson raised his eyebrows. " I wasn't..."
"Yes you were. I can see it in your stupid face."
Wilson held his hand up and sank back into his chair tucking the script into his shirt pocket. " So what happened earlier."
"Nothing. Just some punk kid with a head injury." House spun his cane again as both men sat silently.
Wilson looked confused. "In the clinic? Did they get sick on you or something?"
"Or something." House said his expression breaking into an evil looking grin.
Wilson gave a pained look and picked up the earlier conversation. "See looks like that are why people don't want you to help. But if you are going for madman with a hint of evil dictator you're falling short, right now you are somewhere between sci-fi Overlord and Bond villain. Sans cat."
House chucked. " I'd prefer the term Pharaoh if you don't mind."
"Yeah. I bet you would." Wilson continued. " And I suppose when they mummify you they'll have a set of three separate sarcophagi. One for you one for your Cane and the other for your stash of Vicodin!"
House waved his cane at this. " Too right. Only the important things I'll need in the other world. But at least I know I won't be lonely."
"Oh? And why's that?"
"You'll be there right along with me."
"Me?" The bemused expression gave House permission to continue.
"Yeah. They always buried the servants with the masters. I mean how am I expected to eat in the afterlife without my sandwich Slave." Houses eyes flashed with mischief as he waited for his friends response.
Wilson closed his eyes as if the comment physically caused pain. He couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him but before he could respond the door to his office opened again and in the doorway stood Cuddy. She looked both men over then turned a stern no nonsense expression towards House.
"House. In my office. Now." She breathed fury evident in her every syllable.
Wilson turned a puzzled look at House, eyes clearly screaming 'what did you do this time.' House however stared at Cuddy with an expression that clearly stated. 'Uh Oh...busted.'
** 45 minutes ago (approx.)**
Arin ran her tongue across her lips tasting Diet Coke. She huddled against the far corner of the elevator and opening one eye looked at the now still bottle on the floor. Dark liquid still oozed out of it staining the light coloured flooring. Patches of coke had splattered across her legs and arms making her feel sticky and wet. The walls dripped in an obscene way that would make Alfred Hitchcock whip out a camera.
The doors of the elevator binged and opened into another corridor. No mad man with soda stood waiting for her here. Shakily Arin stood, slipping slightly as her converse tried to find traction in the mes and tried to brush off the wetness with her hands. Her hair stuck together in clumps. She ran a hand across her face to remove the moisture there and squaring her shoulders walked out into the corridor. Squelching as she went.
It wasn't the ER, but it was away from Doctor House at least, the people in the corridor seemed to be mostly women, pregnant looking women, and nurses.
They stared at her in a sort of shocked, silent way that made her throat feel very tight all of a sudden. She cleared it and despite herself looked self consciously down at her now thoroughly ruined attire and blush an interest colour of scarlet.
When she looked up again Two uniformed men were approaching her. Security. She stopped and swallowing waited for them to reach her.
The older one, grey showing in his moustache, looked her up and down and sighed, eyes crinkling as he took her in. His expression showed sympathy and that surprised her. He shook his head. " I am very sorry miss...but I think you had best come with us."
As they led her away from the corridor, back into the elevators and down again Arin let her shoulders sag. She was suddenly very tired. All she had wanted was a few minutes of distraction from the ER, get soda go back see Robyn. Go home and never enter this horrible place again. Why couldn't it have gone down like it was supposed to.
The younger man was watching her, in particular her bra region. He caught her looking at him and quickly whipped his head around and looked away, embarrassed. Arin flushed again and crossed her sticky arms over her chest.
"Am i in trouble?" She ventured surprising herself at how confident her voice was. She didn't feel it.
The older security guard, the one with the moustache, glanced at her and removed his jacket which he draped over her shoulders in reply. He was scowling at the younger man who stared straight ahead. Thankful Arin pulled the jacket around herself.
"No miss. We saw what happened on the camera. We will take you to see Doctor Cuddy she's the dean of medicine. She's who normally deals with Doctor House's...antics shall we say?"
Arin frowned. So Doctor House had antics did he? The elevator opened into a reception lobby and She found herself being shepherded towards a large sign that said Clinic.
Inside the double doorway, a woman in a grey pencil skirt and a baby blue blouse stood talking to another woman in scrubs at the desk. Her dark hair was pulled up in an elegant knot at the nape of her neck. She turned seeing the trio approach with a slight happy smile. Slowly the smile froze in place and started to dim as she took in the sight of both security guards and the young girl clutching the jacket.
Unsmiling now She sighed and crossed her arms. "What did House do this time?" She asked.