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Everybody Lies	By : clueless1der Category: G through L > House Views: 3646 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own House, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Everybody Lies
- 2-1
- 3-2
- 4-3
- 5-4
- 6-5
- 7-6
- 8-final - 7
- 5
- 6
- 7
When
you�re tired, the most inane things go through your mind. When you�re
exhausted, those inane things grow pink wings and whiz through your brain... on
roller skates. House didn�t remember getting from the plane to the baggage
claim; he fell asleep in the wheelchair. Claiming his bag passed in a blur.
When the cabbie woke him up, he was slightly embarrassed to

find a rather large strand of drool on the taxi window. He paid the man (from
the fare he must have driven around the city to Manhattan and back) with nary a
snarky remark, and found himself staring outside his door in a stupor, looking
at his keys in his hand without remembering how they worked. He almost left his
suitcase in the foyer, and then decided that he couldn�t be bothered to make it
all the way to his bedroom. The couch probably wasn�t as lumpy as he

remembered.

It was.

The weak morning sunlight managed to shine right through his blinds directly
into his closed eyelids. He opened them, then groaned
when he realized how uncomfortable he was. His neck ached from the armrest that
was clearly designed by the interior design company of Marquis De Sade, his
back felt like it had been run over, his leg didn�t bear thinking about, and to
make matters worse, he felt as though a small dragon had used his mouth for a
litter box.

He had left his cane somewhere, so he limped to his suitcase to get his
toothbrush and toothpaste. While doing so, he heard the little chirp his phone
made when he had voicemail�which made him remember that he hadn�t checked his
messages in awhile�which made him want to go back to bed.

He flipped open his phone, decided that the bathroom was too far to go from
brushing when there was a perfectly good kitchen sink right here, and dialed in
his password.

First message: Cuddy. �House, when you get in, call me.
I need to make you aware of a few things. Like your ability to keep your job.�

Second message: Wilson. �Uh� hi. It�s me. Um, Please
call me back. I�ve called a few times. I want to explain an-� Fuck off! House
rather viscously hit the 7 key to delete the message.

Third message: Cuddy. �Damnit. House.
It�s 11:20.�

Fourth message: Wilson. �Hi, it�s me agai-� Delete.

Fifth message: Someone trying to sell him aluminum siding.

Sixth message: A sigh, then the click of the phone. House hung up the phone and
brushed his teeth. His mind kept trying to stray to the messages Wilson left,
but he resolutely focused on something else. Anything else.

****
Cuddy
knew the signs. Grouchier than a bear with a paw full of stickers, bloodshot
eyes, pale skin, the constant shake and rattle of his Vicodin bottle.... all
classic signs that something was wrong- well, something more than usual. It had
been a little over a week since the trip, and whatever it was that happened
still hadn�t been resolved. People were commenting, then after a couple of days
tactfully not commenting on the obvious fissure between the two. Even now, in

her office, House�s body language said plainly that he resented her poking her
nose into his business. He was fiddling with one of his dark blue case files.
Wilson looked like his same, everyday well put together self. Until you looked at his eyes. There were dark circles that
spoke volumes about his mental state.

�Well?�

�Well what?� Wilson sounded downright testy.

�Can you two kiss and make up so we can get some work done around here?� She
noticed that both men flinched at the word �kiss.� Hmmm.
Interesting. �I wouldn�t normally speak to you regarding your personal
lives,� at this House snorted and flipped one of the chart pages, �but I truly
think this is affecting your job performance. Hell, one of you can�t call on the
other for a consult without having to pass the message through three people so
that you don�t inadvertently

talk to each other. It�s ridiculous. And juvenile.�
She paused. �And unprofessional.� At that she crossed
her arms over her chest and tried to stare down at them in a way vaguely
reminiscent of her 5th grade math teacher, Mrs. Greckenbush.

House rolled his eyes at her. �Ohh.
I love it when you get all irate. You get all...� he gave her a

once-over...: �jiggly.�

Wilson just nodded once and got up, turned on his heel and left her office.

Cuddy�s gaze just happened to be on House�s face when he did so, and noticed
House�s eyes drift shut for a second, almost as if he was hurt, before opening
and studying the file as if it were the most interesting thing he�d ever read.

�House?� Her voice was tentative. He just held up his
hand to forestall her words. Then, using his cane, he hefted himself to his
feet, swung his backpack up onto his shoulder, and left her office.

Wilson was pushing the elevator button like a man possessed.

�You know, I�ve heard that just pushing it once works just fine.�

�Oh? Way to take Cuddy�s little speech to heart. Is this a conversation or were
you just taking the opportunity to sound like an ass?� Wilson blurted it out
before he really thought about what he was saying.

The doors swung open. Wilson went in, staring challengingly at House. He could
almost hear the

thoughts going through the other man�s head- do I take the stairs? Do I get in?
Before his cane came out just as the doors were shutting. They whooshed back
open, and House made his slow way into the elevator. He moved so that he was as
far from Wilson physically as the small space could allow.

The doors shut, Wilson hit the button, and the elevator started to move. Both
busied themselves with something so that they wouldn�t have to look at each
other.

People ignore the slight groans of elevator sounds as inconsequential. Until�
they�re not.

There was a hellacious grinding sound, one so pulsating that both doctors could
feel the movement in their fillings. The
elevator shook for a moment, shook hard enough in a way that screamed This is Wrong!

House dropped his cane and file to brace himself
against the elevator walls. He had wedged his body into the corner, with one
hand on each corner wall. His horrified eyes met Wilson�s. There was another
grinding nose, then a shriek of metal, and the elevator stopped so suddenly
that the force of its decent drove the two to their knees. It felt like his stomach
had gone up three feet. House cried out when he fell, unable to catch himself,
his balance completely gone. When he hit the floor, he just froze, listening to
the sound of the elevator. The elevator was silent except for the sound of
their gasps for air.
�A-are
you o-o-kay?� Wilson stuttered. House looked up from
his position on the floor. Wilson

was braced against the other side of the elevator,
much like House had been before he fell. Wilson was pale; his skin translucent
in the harsh florescent light.

House�s leg had hurt him before. The pain he currently felt made him literally
want to vomit. It was like fire- he had an image in his head of the blood in
his thigh stopping its flow, then rushing through, filling the spaces it had
vacated, bubbling up like lava in a volcano�. He concentrated on his breathing,
not wanting to hyperventilate. He shook his head.

Wilson unfroze himself� slowly, gingerly, half- afraid that every move he made
would send them plunging to their death. Had he and House not had their�.
fight� House would have been his first priority. Now, he had to force himself
to take care of other things rather than go directly to House, feeling that any
show of panicked worry would be pushed away.

He made himself peel his fingers off where he had been trying to hold the wall
long enough to push the emergency button. It made a �pffft�
sound, but there was nothing else. When he tried the phone, it just buzzed. �Damnit!� He almost threw receiver into its holder. He went
to the floor, slowly, testing to see if the elevator was going to fall any
further. When nothing happened, he went over to House, who was still on all
fours, breathing slowly and evenly.

�I felt something tear.� House�s voice was gravely,
and tight with pain.

�Can you turn over? Stretch it out in front of you? Do you need some help?�
Wilson reached out to help him.

�No! Don�t touch- just let me �do it- my-self.� House
tried to roll over. It took him two tries, but he eventually made it so that
his back was supported against the wall, with both of his legs stretched out in
front of him.

Wilson let his hand fall to his side, feeling foolish. He tried his phone, but
there was no signal. House�s phone was dead.

Wilson sighed, reached over and retrieved House�s cane. The little orange
prescription bottle had rolled into a corner near where Wilson had dropped his
briefcase. He offered both to his friend. House was sitting with his eyes
closed, fishing around in his pocket for his �script bottle.

�Here.� He shook it a little. It sounded as if there
were only a few pills left.

House cracked open one eye, and took the bottle.

They were silent. House, focused on his breathing (which beat
screaming) and Wilson, with his head down, but sneaking glances towards House
out of the corner of his eye.

Now would be a good time. You could apologize, could say everything that
you�ve been planning on saying. I mean, what have you
got to lose? As pep talks go, it wasn�t exactly Do Not Go Gently Into That Good Night, but it would have to do. Minutes
ticked past in silence.

Because this not talking? No acknowledgement between him and House� well it
wasn�t working out really well. Wilson was depressed, he felt like a complete
ass� practically every hour on the hour. It was funny. You truly never really
realized how much you missed

something until it was gone. Until you had done something so stupid that you
drove it away.

�Greg?� Wilson actually had to clear his throat before his voice would work
properly. A flight of butterflies had just attacked his stomach. His throat
made a funny clicking sound when he swallowed.

House had leaned his head back against the wall. The vicodin was starting to work its magic. The pain was
receding enough that he felt strong enough to open his eyes and look at the man
across from him.

Funny what goes through your mind. Because, when he
heard his first name- well- it was jarring. Weird. It
wasn�t like they had discussed it in the twelve years that they had known each
other or anything. Calling each other by their first name
when they were alone and by their title or last name whenever they were around
anyone else seemed to be too much work. So, they had become �House� and
�Wilson�.

But hearing his name�. made him� feel connected. Intimate. And he wasn�t sure
if he wanted either that connection or that intimacy with this person who had
the ability to hurt him so much.

�You make me feel.� It was out of House�s mouth before he really thought about
it. The combination of the agony and drug had released whatever hold he had
imposed between his brain and his vocal cords. He shut his eyes again. He
drifted for a moment.

�I- Stup?-I- Wha?�
For his part, Wilson was so thrown off that he couldn�t put together coherent
thought.

�Feel. You remember your speech in your office; well,
this �screwed-up friendship� is pretty much my only one. Friendship I mean. And
it was stupid of me to��

Wilson�s jaw gaped. Wait. House was
apologizing? House didn�t apologize. He shouldn�t

need to, fool. Open your goddamn mouth!

House continued. �I don�t want you to� worry. I won�t� be..
with you. Like that. Anymore.�
The words came out very low and choppy. He absently massaged his thigh muscle.

Wilson was till struck dumb. Time seemed to be standing still as those words
were repeated over and over in his head. Before he could speak, the two heard a
thumping sound. They both froze again, looking up at the ceiling of the
elevator.

Very faintly, but there, they could hear what sounded like voices. Someone with
a bass voice was hollering something, but it was intelligible.
Distracted, Wilson strained his ears to hear. �I think we�re being
rescued.�

�Swell.�

Wilson�s gaze left the ceiling and fell onto House�s face. He had opened his
eyes and was staring right at him. He felt the punch of those eyes. Again. The same one that haunted his dreams, only this time
they weren�t accusing , or angry, or amused�not inquiring � or mischievous� all
looks that Wilson had filed away. House just looked at him.

Wilson swallowed, looking down. They heard what sounded like drills and
equipment being used above their heads. Feeling rushed, but wanting to get the
words out before they had company, Wilson spoke. He reached out and put his
hand over House�s, who was still rubbing the top of his thigh to try to
alleviate some of the burning. House froze.

�I don�t want you to. Um. To stop.
I mean. I think. I- no damnit, I�m making a mess out
of this.� He took a deep breath. �This isn�t exactly the best place for this
conversation. But, I don�t want you to stop� thinking about me. About us� together.� His voice was soft, halting. Nervous as hell.

Outside the elevator, they heard some more creaking metal, and the elevator
shook a tiny bit. Then there was a thump, as if someone had landed onto the
roof.

Wilson took a deep breath and blurted out. �We need to� discuss. Uh, everything. Where we can actually talk
to each other.� He moved his hand over House�s, very minutely. A carress.

�Feel like grabbing a burger?�
- 5
- 6
- 7
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Everybody Lies