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Chapter 3

Taking deep breath, House reached into his koti, jacket pocket and grabbed the familiar machungwa, chungwa perception bottle from its depths. Giving it a shake, he listened to the hollow sound of pills hitting plastic, as he stared at the short orodha of symptoms on the dry erase board in the corner. Chewing his bottom lip for a moment, he turned each piece of his most hivi karibuni puzzle over in his mind. “Tularemia…no…no she has a mild rash not an ulcer,” he alisema making a suggestion for his new patients illness then dismissing it. Mindlessly he flipped off the cap, herufi kubwa of the medicine bottle and shook out two small white pills. Snapping the lid back on, he dropped the container back into his pocket before tossing the Vicodin into his mouth and swallowing. Wiping his mind clean, House started again from the juu of his list, considering each item. Just as he reached the bottom of the list, the door to his office pushed open.

Glancing up, House eyed Wilson as he crossed the office towards his desk. “Hey,” he called out, nodding towards the board, “Fever, headache, rash, vomiting…you like Lyme disease for those symptoms?” he asked Wilson as he lowered himself into the chair across from him.

Wilson rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Sore joints au stiff neck?” he asked.

Grabbing his large gray and red tennis ball, House gave it a toss into the air. “No…well at least not yet,” he replied watching the ball intently.

“Could be…or Dengue Hemorrhagic Fever would fit too,” he offered, plucking at a piece of fuzz on his pants.

House considered the suggestion. “No internal bleeding,” he murmured, turning his gaze out the window of his office.

“Yet,” Wilson countered.

House nodded slowly, taking in the bright December afternoon just beyond the glass. “Lyme Disease without sore joints and Dengue Fever without bleeding…” he muttered, giving his ball another toss.

Wilson stared at the back of House’s head and wrestled with the best way to bring up the subject for which he had come all the way down the hallway for. “So I ran into Cameron and Chase in the cafeteria today, they told me about the prank wewe played on Taub and Kutner,” he said, carefully putting a tone of amusement into his voice.

“It wasn’t a prank,” House countered, his eyes following a plane as it passed overhead.

“If faking a patient’s death isn’t a prank…”

“It wasn’t a prank, it was lesson. Taught Taub and Kutner to fear my omnipresence, plus it made me $1,000 bucks,” House quipped.

Wilson chuckled, “Got to give Kutner props, it takes some big ones to actually think he could impersonate you…even if it was just online.”

“Kutner’s an idiot,” House grunted.

“An idiot with big stones,” James laughed.

House shrugged a bit. He would admit the scam was pretty gutsy but the execution was completely fumbled, and that above all else disappointed him. “Hack” he mumbled, fingering the seam of the extra large tennis ball.

“So…where did wewe find an actress who was willing to perpetrate you’re little stunt?” Wilson asked carefully.

“Corner of 5th and Penn,” House stated plainly, watching as large snowflakes piled up on his balcony in deep heaps.

“You…hired a hooker…and brought her to the hospital?” Wilson asked trying to sound surprised.

Hearing the change in his friend’s voice, House swung his chair about, his forehead furrowed. “Out of work actresses hard to find; prostitutes set up duka on the corners, easy to find…I just using my time wisely.” He stated flippantly. “Why do wewe care?” he asked, eyeing Wilson closely.

Shifting under Houses gaze, Wilson shrugged. “Pranks are one thing, but soliciting a prostitute for a scam and sex on hospital property…that’s stupid, even for you.”

“First of all, I solicited her OFF hospital property, that’s what lunch breaks are for after all and secondly, while on HOSPITAL property she did what she was paid to do- act like a dying and then a dead patient. Now as for what happens off hospital property, that’s my business,” he muttered, watching Wilson’s face closely.

His eye’s not wavering Wilson reclined back in his chair. “Did wewe arrange for Cuddy’s new dawati to be brought out of storage from her mom’s house?” He asked, changing the subject.

House blinked and a slight smile formed on his lips. ‘Ah ha and here we are, the real reason you’re here’ he thought eyeing his friend. “Cuddy has a new desk? Well that makes sense, she has a new office,” he quipped off handedly, lifting his right leg onto the dawati before crossing his left over juu of it.

“It’s her dawati from med school. Gee, who would know about such a piece of furniture? Oh, I don’t’ know, maybe someone who KNEW her in med school?” Wilson tossed at him knowingly.

Smiling lazily at him, House twirled his cane between his fingers but remained silent.

“Oh come on House, wewe got her the desk, admit it!” Wilson alisema with a hint of agitation.

Shrugging his shoulders, House blinked lazily at him. “Yeah, okay I called her mom and hire guys to bring it down,” he confessed, feeling a weight lift off him at the admission in spite of himself.

James Wilson squinted at him, “Why did wewe do that?” he asked. “I thought wewe alisema wewe weren’t interested in a relationship with her,” he poked.

House’s eyebrows shot up. “Since when is getting an old dilapidated piece of junk, taka out of nondo balls and putting it in Cuddy shiny new and anally clean office equal to a proposal of marriage?” he asked, tossing his cane in the air.

Shaking his head, Wilson gave him his signature knowing grin. “You did it to be sweet and because wewe like her. I was there when she saw it ya know. She was thrilled. Clearly the fixture has some serious sentimental value and wewe knew it,” he accused.

Leveling his gaze at the nosey man across from him, House couldn’t help the image that forced its way into his head. The last time he had seen that dawati had been the siku she had graduated with her BA. He had gone up to her dorm room to wish her luck and say goodbye before he left for the summer. He had suspected at the time, it might be the last time they would see each other. He had just gotten his first real position at Boston General, and in a few short weeks she would be starting her residency. His mind’s eye brought up an image that stuck with him even now some 18 plus years later. He could see it like it happened only yesterday. Entering the room, he had found her sitting crossed legged on juu of her dawati going through a box of papers, sorting some and tossing others into the trash can on the floor below her. Bare footed and in an old faded t-shirt and worn jeans, her hair was still tied back in a French braid, her graduation cap, herufi kubwa still pinned in place atop her head. A minuscule smile crept across his face as the beginning of the memory began to take shape.

Wilson spotted the grin and pounced. “AH HA!” he exclaimed, waging his index finger at House. “You do like her!” he accused, slapping the dawati in exclamation.

House flinched at the loud crack of Wilson’s hand against the glass of his desktop. Letting the revelry of moments before slip away, he shot his friend a look. “You know, we’ve had this conversation before. Not only that, we had it and finished it,” House smirked sarcastically, lifting his damaged leg off the dawati and setting it on the floor.

“That was before wewe went out of your way to get the dawati House! wewe can’t deny that its a gesture,” Wilson argued.

Standing up, House limped over to balcony door and looked out. He didn’t want to talk about this anymore. Getting the dawati for Cuddy had been a last dakika impulse, one he couldn’t even rectify to himself, so the last thing he wanted to do was debate his motives with Wilson. “I just wanted to screw with her. I thought she’d hate the desk. Old, dusty and beat up, I figured it was the perfect ‘gift’ to foil her songesha into her new clean and sparkling office. wewe know how nutty she is about things being just so,” House deflected.

Wilson paused for a moment and considered his inayofuata move. “Well your hostel redecoration plans went totally sideways. Cuddy loves the desk. wewe should have seen her. Her eyes lit up like a kid at Christmas, that was until she realized it had to have been wewe who set it up…then she glowed,” he recounted through a smile.

House glanced back at Wilson as the word “glowed” making its way around his brain. Shrugging half to himself and half at Wilson, House hobbled towards his desk. “It backfired, oh well. I’ll just have make up for it kwa getting her an extra special office warming gift. I was thinking a replica of the Leg Lamp from the krisimasi Story might do the trick,” he alisema sarcastically as he moved towards the door that led from his office to the hallway.

Reaching out, Wilson stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Licking his lips, he debated what to do. He had told Lisa he wouldn’t meddle, but the abundant amounts of miscommunication going on here was zaidi than he could stand. ‘Sorry Lisa’, he offered up silently. “She came to find wewe last night, wanted to thank wewe for the desk…” Wilson started but then trailed off.

House looked down at Wilson for a moment and tried to figure out what he was getting at. “Well, she must have figured out the dawati was a joke, cuz she never came to see me, in fact I haven’t talked to her since she moved her big tookus out of my office ,” he dismissed haphazardly as made a songesha for the door again.

Tightening his grip on House’s arm, Wilson took a step back and to the side so that he was now standing directly in House’s escape route. “You’re wrong,” he alisema his voice void of the pervious lighthearted banter.

Eyeing him carefully, House took a step a back and leaned heavily on his cane. He was quickly tiring of this conversation. “Okay, so are wewe going to make me keep guessing au are wewe going to tell whatever it is wewe found out while having coffee with Cuddy today?” he asked, cutting to the chase.

Wilson blinked up at him in surprise, “How did wewe kno…” he began to say.

“Remember, Omnipresent,” he shot back, tapping his cane impatiently on the carpet. “So…” he smirked.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Wilson took a deep breath. “She did come up here last night, but it seems wewe had some ahhh….” he stammered for a moment looking for the right words “…company,” he finally concluded.

House eyed him for a moment as the understanding of what his friend meant filtered through his brain. Cuddy had seen him with Candy, the nyota of his little play, last night. A strange feeling turned his stomach and increased his moyo rate. Swallowing around lump that had formed in his throat, he worked hard to keep his face neutral. “Yeah, so,” he alisema flippantly.

Wilson rolled his eyes, “What the hell House!” he exhaled. “You really went through all the trouble of getting the dawati and doing something nice for her only to turn around and take a hooker nyumbani to kitanda with wewe the very same day?” he exclaimed his voice stained with slight disgust. “What is wrong with you?”

In spite of the strange inner turmoil building in his gut, anger flared in House. “Who I play hind the pickle with is none of yours au Cuddy’s business,” he stated, struggling to keep his voice even and empty of emotion.

Closing he’s eyes for a moment, Wilson shook his head sadly. Slowly opening them again he stared unflinching at him. “You know, you’ve been right all along. wewe shouldn’t tarehe her. You’ll never be able to see beyond your selfish and self destructive behavior to ever be good enough for her anyway. The one thing I can’t figure out, however, is why wewe felt the need to screw with her. I mean, I know wewe both like to push each other’s buttons, but why fuck with her emotions…there’s nothing in it for you. If wewe really don’t have feelings for her why bother with the desk? Hell for that matter, why kiss her to start with?” He asked, his voice growing louder as he ranted.

House bristled. “How the hell do wewe figure any of this is YOUR business?” he shouted. “This is my life, I can fuck it up any way I want,” he growled and started moving for the door again.

Throwing his hands in the air, Wilson let out a frustrated sigh. “It becomes my business when I have to spend an saa consoling a crying woman!” he fumed.

At his words, House stopped dead in his tracks. He could hardly imagine Cuddy crying. She was the strongest women he knew. The very thought through him into a mental tailspin. “Crying?” he asked, his voice low, his eyes on the carpet.

Wilson turned to look at him. “Yes, as in tears,” he affirmed, his voice still holding an edge. The truth was there hadn’t been crying technically. Her eyes had welled up on a couple of occasions, but to Wilson that was as good as crying for a woman like Cuddy. The fact her emotions where that close to the surface only proved to him how hard this whole fiasco was on her and that was something House needed to realized. So he went with the little white lie, yes she had cried.

House let his eyes slip closed as he imagined her gray blue eyes full of tears. “Why is she getting so upset? It was just a desk…I never…” he trailed off, his thoughts muddling his words.

Taking a tentative step forward, Wilson couldn’t help but feel for his friend. Ever since Stacy, he had watched House run from any woman who took any sort of interest in him. It had been after the break up that he had taken up using prostitutes. As far as Wilson knew, House had only one single night of sex in the past seven years in which he hadn’t paid for it and that was the night he had had an affair with Stacy a couple of years ago. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly. “Look I know wewe don’t like to let people in, House. But I hate to break it to you, Cuddy’s already on the inside your perimeter fence, and has been in for a hell of a lot longer than wewe willing to admit, longer than I have even. Look, I realize that taking the inayofuata step with her means that maybe things might not work out, but…what if they do?” he asked, eyeing House’s face closely for a reaction.

Looking up from the floor, House stared blindly out into the hall. A hundred thoughts turned through his brain at once, accompanied kwa just as many emotions. He recognized regret, self loathing, doubt, and maybe even a little twinge of hope, but above all else he felt fear. He feared change, all forms of it. From simply being able to take an honest look at what he was feeling to facing possible disappointment; fear is what paralyzed all change in his life. The sad part of it all was he didn’t have a problem recognizing his issues; it was that he was completely incapable of altering his reality. He couldn’t deal with this now, he decided driving the thoughts back into their usually hiding spots. Straightening his spine he started for the door again.

“House!” Wilson exasperated at the non-response.

Lifting his hand, House pointed to his watch. “Got go, Clinic duty,” he quipped pushing through the door and stepping into the hallway.

Following him out and towards the elevator, Wilson blew out a frustrated breath. “So you’re what, not going to even acknowledge everything I just said?” he asked as they stopped at the elevator bank.

Jabbing the down call button on the wall, House shook his head. “Exactly. wewe alisema it yourself, I’m not good enough for her,” he tossed back as the elevator door opened. “Mind as well let her off the hook now before the Big Bad Greg actually does something that will really make her cry,” he snipped sarcastically as he stepped into the empty elevator car. Turning around, he glanced up at Wilson who still stood in the hall, his face veiled with a mixture of pity and sadness. Placing a hand on the door to keep it from closing, House tugged on his bottom lip with his teeth in contemplation. Finally he spoke. “Trust me Wilson, she’ll be much happier not having me around to screw with her heart,” he murmured with quiet honesty, before dropping his hand to let the elevator door slide closed.