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Summary
Nobody said it was going to be easy. 5,507 words.
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Bookmark Notes:
"No," Wilson says, and "no" again. "You're not taking me to a hospital, you're not calling an ambulance."
"I don't have the equipment or the meds to handle this," House says, and it's déjà vu all over again, the chemo nightmare, and House does not want to relive that, he does not, but apparently Wilson's going to make him.
"Promise me," Wilson says, and his eyes are going glassy and his hair's plastered to his forehead. "Promise me."
And like an idiot, House does.
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House barely dares to hope. "You have a doctor who ... makes house calls?""No, sugar. He's the vet."
Any port in a storm, House thinks grimly, and says, "Fine. Dr. Doolittle it is." But when he gets back to the room, Wilson's temperature is even higher.
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"I hate you," House says, when Wilson's done."Hate you more," Wilson wheezes.
"You're about to," House informs him. "I'm calling the vet on your ass."
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"This is a lawsuit waiting to happen," House hears him mumble."Except it won't," House snaps, "because this is simple. He's got scarlet fever." They don't have time for this. "Caused by an erythrogenic toxin, released by Streptococcus pyogenes. He needs penicillin, now."
Jefferson looks at him. "You're a doctor," he says.
"Even if I am, you can tell by my accent I'm not licensed in this state." He stares back at the vet, as if by sheer force of will he can make him open his bag. "That's what you were going to say, right? I'm a doctor, why don't I just write him a script?"
"The thought had crossed my mind," the vet replies, but it's worked, he's turning to examine Wilson. "You know what this is, so how come you don't take him to the hospital?"
"Because I'm a cripple on a motorbike, and the good citizens of PoDunk here don't believe in taxis."
"There's a county ambulance."
"He ... won't let me. I mean, not like he could stop me, but ... I gave him my word. He's afraid if he goes in, they'll never let him out."
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"You wanna show me something says Wilson here isn't allergic to penicillin?"House stares at him. "You have many cases around here where people commit murder by anaphylactic shock?"
"You'd be surprised," the vet says, but his gaze doesn't waver, and the hell of it is, House has to admit grudgingly to himself, he's right.
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. Wilson, however, chooses that moment to stir, wrinkling his nose and turning his head."House?" he says.
Shit.
"No," House says. "Not home yet. We're still at the motel. This is Doctor Jefferson. He'll have you galloping again in no time."
"Uh."
"Go back to sleep. It's okay. It's penicillin."
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"I'm not doing it. Whatever time I have left, I'm not spending it as your guinea pig."It's at that moment that their breakfast comes, plates of steaming eggs and cakes and ham, sausage perfectly grilled and glistening, served by efficient, bustling waitresses. House tries speaking German to them; they smile and answer in a Texas-accented blend of German, Spanish, and English.
At last House pushes his last plate aside -- apple streusel, baked that very morning -- and tries again.
"You're not even the least bit curious -- "
"No, House."
" -- as to why you've utterly failed to bloat up and float to the top of the tank?"
"Thank you for that disgusting image. And don't sound so disappointed."
"Never been happier about anything in my life. I still want to know."
"You have a ... theory, and you want to test it."
"So do you, and you don't want to test it. Never thought I'd see the day I was the optimist here."
"It's not ... it's just ... I've never been happier, House. I'm happy here, out here, just living. I don't plan to screw that up."
"If your theory, which I'd be willing to bet is my theory, isn't true? You might be throwing away your chance to keep doing this. Ignorance isn't always bliss, you moron."
"Who even said I had a theory?"
"The search history on your netbook, that's who."
"Catch you in the next town, House." He's out of his seat and into the dusty parking lot before House can even fully process what just happened.
He is, House notes, moving amazingly fast for a guy who's supposed to be dead.
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"We go on," House says. "We can't go backwards.""I could go back," Wilson says softly.
House turns his empty shot glass. Once, twice, three times.
"You could go back," he agrees.
Wilson is silent for a long time, but maybe it's only a minute.
"I don't wanna go back, House," he says at last. "I just ... I just wanna keep being me."
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Bookmark Notes:
Well worth reading,even if you never watched a single episode.
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Bookmark Notes:
Recced from fancake.
Hard to describe but exactly perfect.