House M.D. Fanfiction: Scout's Honor pt 2
Title: Scout’s Honor
Author: pgrabia
Disclaimer: House M.D., its characters, locations and storyline are the property of David Shore, Bad Hat Harry Productions and the Fox Television Network. All Rights Reserved.
Pairing(s): House/Wilson pre-slash (UST), starting with some House/Cuddy and Wilson/Sam (but ending up H/W.).
A/N: A three-part story written in response to The Tic-Tac-Toe Challenge for Camp Sick!Wilson at the Sick!Wilson community at LiveJournal.com. The prompts were: dollhouse, running shoes and rainstorm. The locale is set in Banff National Park and the Town of Banff, Alberta, Canada. I’ve tried to be accurate, but even though I go there every year I am prone to making errors! If you catch any, please forgive me.
UnBeta-ed. All mistakes are completely my own.
Spoiler Alert: This story includes spoilers for all seasons of House M.D. up to and including Season 6 Ep. 22 “Help Me”. This takes approximately two months after the events of the Season Six season finale.
Word Count: 5996
Rating: R (to be safe) for mature themes, sexual language, coarse language, mild violence.
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Part Two
A cool wind had picked up since before lunch, and a few clouds had rolled in but the sun was still shining and warm against Wilson’s face. The surface of Two Jack Lake rippled and rolled with the wind, obscuring the reflection of the mountains. He could hear the blowing air rustle the leaves of the odd deciduous tree and whisper around the triangular forms of pine and black spruce. He found a picnic table and sat down, just allowing the raw beauty of the landscape to soothe his upset soul. He forced thoughts about Sam and House out of his mind, trying to keep it a blank slate for nature to write upon.
After a little while he got up from the picnic table and sauntered past a small family of four having a picnic, the only other human beings he’d seen since his arrival. He followed a sign that indicated that there were walking trails up ahead. He figured a nice hike would be just the thing to clear his head and elevate his spirit. He located one of the paths, just a foot-trodden dirt depression that wound around, between and over trees and tree trunks and small bushes. He followed it, walking carefully to make certain that he didn’t trip over any tree roots and other underbrush as he went along. It was incredibly quiet except for the wind in the trees, the bird song overhead, the crunch of leaves and twigs under his feet and the odd chattering of brown squirrels and chipmunks as they scurried along the ground or ran up and down trees. He was used to living in the predominantly urbanized environment that was New Jersey and was never far away from the sounds of motor vehicles and air travel roaring around and overhead.
He felt so at ease there and was glad that he had decided to get away from the antagonists of his life for a while and just walk in peace and simply…be. The path he’d been following branched off three ways and he had to choose which path to take. A smile crossed his lips as he stepped out and along the one that seemed the least established, the poetic words of Robert Frost whispering in his ears. That path eventually forked as well. He went left, thinking that it was the path that would lead him out of the thick bush and back along the lakefront. After several minutes of walking Wilson discovered that he had been mistaken. He found himself moving deeper into the woods.
Stopping in an attempt to get his bearings, Wilson found a fallen log and sat down on it to rest a while. While of course there was shade from the trees, it seemed to him that it was getting darker that what could be explained away as the canopy cover, and the temperature felt like it had dropped several degrees in the past twenty minutes or so. He could hear the wind begin to whistle through the forest as it picked up strength, adding to the feeling of the ambient temperature falling. He checked his watch; the oncologist had been hiking for a good hour, and figured it was probably time to head back to the rental car and return to the hotel. Wilson took a couple of good pulls from the flask he carried and then tucked it back into his pocket. He began to backtrack, but quickly realized he must have taken a wrong turn, because as he proceeded nothing looked familiar and he could hear what sounded like a rushing stream flowing over rocks. The further he went, the louder the sound became until he found himself entering a break in the trees and standing on the back of a fast-flowing mountain stream. It wasn’t very wide and didn’t look very deep. He came to realize that he had gotten himself lost.
'Shit!' Wilson thought to himself angrily. What an incredibly stupid thing to do! What kind of idiot ventures out all by himself into unknown terrain without keeping closer track of where he is going? He blamed his poor judgment on the beer, two double scotches and few swallows of bourbon.
He didn’t have a compass or a map, his cell phone was useless out there in the middle of nowhere, and nobody back at the hotel knew where he was. The sky overhead had clouded completely over while he was in the bush and the dark grey sky began to spit cold raindrops down at him.
Somebody upstairs really didn’t like him, he decided bitterly. Wilson shook his head, unable to believe how quickly the weather had changed! He wondered if that was something that typically happened in the mountains, or it was just another example of his bad luck. It was getting cold out, and his light-duty jacket wasn’t doing a very good job against the rain or cold.
One thing Wilson did know was that he had to pee and the influx of water all around him didn’t help matters. Sighing, he found himself a spot and took care of business. After he stepped back towards the stream, edged slowly and carefully towards the edge and knelt carefully on the wet rocks. He stuck his hands into the stream to wash them and jerked them back suddenly in surprise. The water was ice cold! Just a few seconds in it would easily numb his hands. He made very quick work of rinsing his hands in the water and then rubbed them dry on his jeans. He surveyed his surroundings, trying to figure out what his best bet would be to find his way back to the day use area as quickly as possible. The rain was really beginning to come down and he could hear distant thunder echo between the mountains.
Great, a rainstorm was moving in. That was all Wilson needed. He decided that his best bet would be to backtrack to the fallen log he’d rested at and then take the other path at the fork. That one would likely lead him back to the better worn paths that would take him back to his car. It was worth a shot anyway. Anything was better than standing in the middle of a forest or along a stream during a thunderstorm in the cold, pouring rain waiting to be attacked and eaten by a bear. Not wanting to dwell too long on that particular mental image, the oncologist rose quickly to his full height-far too quickly-and was once again struck by lightheadedness. He felt himself drift in dizziness, then felt his footing on the smooth, wet rocks beneath him give way. He began to fall while at the same time his left foot slid between two rocks, jamming and wedging itself there as the full weight of his body propelled him sideways into the stream. He heard the stomach-turning crunch of his ankle breaking a split second before the screaming agony shot up his leg to his spine and then to his brain, stunning him. He heard himself scream as if he were outside of himself.
One of the rocks at his ankle gave way enough for his foot to be freed, and before Wilson’s mind could register any other kind of rational thought he found himself being swallowed up by the flowing, churning ice water. He hadn’t been prepared to be immersed completely, so he had failed to catch his breath quickly enough and took frigid water into his lungs. He thrashed about wildly with no coordination amongst his four limbs as he fought to find and break through the water surface. Once his head broke through he tried to take in a breath but couldn’t displace the water that was in his bronchial tubes which made further inhalation next to impossible. Put simply, he was drowning.
He coughed and coughed, water being brought up a little at a time and allowing in just enough air to enable further coughing and further gasps for breath. The water hadn’t looked nearly deep enough to completely immerse him in but he’d been wrong. Wilson felt the strong current pulling him away from the rocky edge and begin to carry him down stream. He fought against the current, but between his gasps for breath, the ice cold water quickly numbing his extremities and the speed of the water, he was losing the battle. The cold was so intense that it wasn’t only causing him to lose feeling in his arms and legs; it was also numbing his mind. He couldn’t think straight and it occurred to him that this was the way he was going to die; not from gastritis or liver failure but by drowning in an icy mountain river in Canada, all alone with no one having any idea that it was happening or even where he was or would end up.
His survival instinct kicked in, and a long forgotten piece of trivia stored deep in the recesses of his mind flashed before his consciousness; the only way to reach the shore was to quit fighting the current; instead he had to swim perpendicular to the direction of the flow.
He focused on having his mind command his limbs to work, hoping that they were, in fact, stroking and kicking since he couldn’t actually feel them doing so. He felt tired and confused but by sheer force of will he was fighting for his life and succeeding. It seemed like an eternity but at some point Wilson could see that the river’s edge was within reach. He flailed wildly, trying to grab onto a boulder or tree root-anything-to pull himself from the death grip of the water. After several tries he managed to snag onto a low-lying tree branch extending slightly over the stream. His hands were numb but somehow he managed to keep holding on tightly enough to stop him from being carried any further downstream. He felt like he had absolutely no strength left, but he couldn’t give up, he knew. Not yet. He was just about on land!
Gritting his teeth Wilson summoned every ounce of strength left in his frozen, battered body and began to pull himself out of the water, slowly, little bit by little bit until he was able to grasp onto dirt and roots a rock outcroppings and drag himself, finally, onto dry land. He collapsed the moment he was completely clear, flat on his stomach, his face in the detritus and dirt of the forest floor. He coughed and sputtered, bringing up water from his lungs and bloodied vomit from his enflamed stomach. He inched forward so that his face wasn’t resting in his own sick and then was perfectly still again, panting and gasping for air. He was cold, so very cold.
Wilson figured that he had pulled himself out of the river only to die in the elements on terra firma. He was certain that he would never see another human being again and wanted more than anything at that moment to have House there with him so that he wouldn’t have to die all alone. His last thought before he succumbed to the darkness of unconsciousness was that he would never get the chance to tell House that he loved him while he had the chance….
(~*~)
House sat on the end of the row of seats so that he could stretch out his damaged leg into the aisle to prevent it from cramping up during the seemingly unending stream of presentations and keynote speakers. Next to him Cuddy sat enraptured by whatever it was the speaker was going on and on about; House had no idea what it was because he hadn’t been able to pay attention to anything but his own worried thoughts spinning around in his head. Next to Cuddy was an empty seat. The Harpy had decided to skip the afternoon’s official events to ‘soothe her anger’ at being abandoned by her ‘drunk boyfriend’ in the warmth of the mineral bath at the hotel spa. She’d turned her fangs on House when he had returned from the men’s room alone, accusing his history of heavy drinking of ‘tainting James and teaching him this kind of irresponsible behavior’.
House hadn’t cared about what that bitch had had to say, but it had hurt when Cuddy had nodded along with her words sympathetically and had failed to speak in his defense; there really wasn’t one, but that wasn’t the point. Her silence had been a sign of tacit agreement with what Sam had said. Of course, he hadn’t shown any reaction to this; he was a master at hiding what he was really feeling inside and he wasn’t about to give the women the satisfaction of knowing that they had scored a painful point against him. Instead he’d made snide comments and waited a few minutes before excusing himself from the table and the lounge. He’d gone to look for Wilson but hadn’t been able to locate him before Cuddy had found the diagnostician and literally dragged him to the open assembly.
He cursed himself for not standing up to his girlfriend who was also his boss; technically he was there on hospital time and coin and therefore she was his employer more than his lover while they were there. They had grudgingly agreed that at work he listened to her and was her subordinate and at home they were equals and he had been so determined to prove himself to her and make their relationship work that he had been nearly killing himself to stick to his word. His bottom lip and tongue were practically hamburger after months of biting off sarcastic, cynical and outright angry remarks and protests at work and at home.
Cuddy hadn’t shown a lot of give on her side of the equation, either; she hadn’t yet relaxed any of her rules and expectations of him in either area of their relationship and he felt as if he was being kept on a very short leash most of the time. She expected him to drop everything at a moment’s notice to babysit Rachel whenever she got a call from the hospital or something else ‘urgent’ occurred and she had to leave for a few hours. He wouldn’t have minded doing so occasionally if she’d asked him rather told him and hadn’t mentioned on a couple of occasions that Lucas had never complained about it. He had allowed himself to be cowed and domesticated by her; her wanted her to be happy. Along the way he had forgotten that he was supposed to be happy, too. He wasn’t. He wasn’t unhappy, really, but the happiness he had hoped he would find with her had been for the most part elusive. It existed only during and for a little while after the phenomenal sex they had but it was temporary and incomplete at best.
The great Gregory House, hen-pecked, he grumbled to himself in disdain. His blue eyes leered at her lovely face and incredible body (every inch of which he had memorized by now) and he felt horny, not happy. He certainly loved her; of that there was no doubt, but he was beginning to wonder if love alone was enough. He wondered if mutual respect, trust and genuine communication weren’t just as vital to the survival of their relationship-and his happiness-as love.
It occurred to him then and there that he loved her, but he wasn’t in love with her. Well, actually he had known that from day one but he had convinced himself almost completely that falling in love with her would be inevitable; now he was convinced that it hadn’t been and would not ever be. But things were pleasant enough, usually and the sex-goddamn the sex was great!-and being with someone was a hell of a lot better than being all alone. She was there for him, at least; Wilson used to be there for him but was with Sam now. Being with Cuddy was sufficient, or at least it had been before this trip; after seeing how Wilson was truly faring and listening to his heartbreaking confession earlier combined with the diagnostician’s own deep concern over his friend’s deteriorating health, he had come to the conclusion that it wasn’t anymore.
'Shit!' He exclaimed in his head. 'What the hell do I do now?'
Cuddy must have sensed that he was looking at her because she turned her head to look right back at him. She gave him a puzzled expression and small smile, then returned her attention back to the speaker. House sighed audibly and then grabbed his cane from where he’d hung it over the back of his seat and stood up to leave. Cuddy caught his wrist.
“Where are you going?” she demanded in a whisper loud enough for everyone in their row and the two rows ahead and behind to hear as well.
“My leg’s cramping up,” he lied, pulling gently against her grip, but she didn’t let go--short leash indeed! “Gotta walk it off.”
“It’s almost over. Wait until then!”
“What was that?” he responded, feigning deafness. “Sorry, didn’t catch that. Got to walk, now!” He yanked his arm more forcibly this time and freed himself from her ever-tightening grip, quickly limping up the aisle before he could be stopped again.
He stepped out of the banquet hall into the brighter lit foyer outside and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He hadn’t been completely lying about his leg; it had been hurting considerably more since lunch than it had been all week. He didn’t think it was due to Wilson’s shove; he really hadn’t pushed House all that hard, he hadn’t hit his right leg against anything and he had caught himself before he fell. After all, it could have been worse. Wilson had a wicked left hook. House’s hand rubbed and kneaded at the damaged thigh muscle in his leg. He reached into the pocket of his sports jacket and pulled out a bottle ibuprofen. He dry-swallowed three of them then slipped the bottle back into his pocket.
House tried to come up with an idea of where the oncologist would have gone while in the state of mind he had been earlier. His first thought was, naturally, a bar or lounge somewhere. It was difficult for House to admit to himself that Wilson was abusing alcohol, perhaps even becoming dependent on it, to get through his day. The diagnostician had known that things with Sam would crash and burn eventually and had tried to warn Wilson of that before he had become too deeply involved with his ex-wife, but he hadn’t expected this. All of the anger and resentment he’d held for the younger man for pushing him aside in favor of the Harpy was now completely gone. The only thing he cared about was finding Wilson and helping him through this. Wilson had been there for him during his drug addiction, heavy drinking and illnesses; the diagnostician would now be there for him, whether the younger man wanted him to be or not-but first he had to locate him.
He’d pounded on Wilson’s hotel room door until other guests threatened to call security; he’d searched all of the lounges in the main resort with no luck. That didn’t mean that he wasn’t there, but House doubted it. He went to the front desk and asked if he had left any messages with them but he hadn’t. House had the desk call the golf course to see if he’d been there but he hadn’t checked in; he wasn’t drinking in the clubhouse, either. He went to the liquor store on the premises, but the clerk there told him that no one matching Wilson’s description had been in there all day. With each unsuccessful search the diagnostician’s concern intensified.
'Damnit, Wilson,' He yelled internally, 'where the hell have you gone?'
Obviously, he’d left the hotel property. He’d likely driven into the town to find a bar or lounge there to tank up at, and there were a good number of them. It seemed like an insurmountable task to search them all with his leg screaming at him like it was but he knew he had to at least try. At the front desk he inquired about the rental car and, as he had suspected, it was gone. House obtained a list of restaurants and bars in Banff and then arranged to rent a car of his own. He was about to set out when he looked out a window and saw that the sky had clouded over with some nasty looking steel grey clouds and it had begun to rain. Well, that explained the increased pain in his leg. He’d need a jacket.
House made his way painfully back to his Cuddy’s and his room where he changed into a t-shirt and pulled a sweatshirt over top, and changed out of the dress trousers Cuddy had insisted he wear into a comfortable pair of familiar jeans. Almost as an afterthought he went to the desk and pulled out a complimentary sheet of writing paper and a pen and quickly scrawled out a short note to let Cuddy know what he was doing.
'Ah, domestication!' he sighed silently,wearily.
Grabbing his black leather jacket he hurriedly left the room and made his way down to where his rental car was waiting for him. He got into the car, spread out the map of Banff and the list across the passenger seat and then set out on his hunt. One by one he hit the various locations on the list and one by one he crossed them off, not finding Wilson at any of them. After ten stops House had to rest in the car for a while because of his leg. He couldn’t shut out the mental images of his friend passed out somewhere, dying from internal bleeding from the gastritis, acute liver failure from the hepatitis or simply from drunkenness.
He chastised himself for allowing his emotions to cloud his thinking. He had to operate on logic if he was going to find the other man.
A bright flash, a crack of thunder and the sudden increase to the strength of the rain falling brought the diagnostician’s mind back to attention. He knew that sudden weather changes were not uncommon in the mountains, which made it quite hazardous at times for those outdoors-types who enjoyed the varied pursuits available to them in the area.
Then it hit House like a shot between two wide-open blue eyes.
Wilson’s words echoed in his ears: 'What do you say to us hiring a guide, renting some gear and taking in a day of fishing at one of the lakes around here tomorrow…?'
There was another flash of lightening followed shortly after by a crack and rumble of thunder. The rain was coming down nearly by the bucketful.
“You idiot…you didn’t…, did you?” House whispered out loud, feeling his stomach flip in anxiety. The answer was plainly obvious now. “Fuck! Of course you did!” he added in a growl.
House checked his map and located the local police station, then started the car, yanked the gear shift into reverse and hit the accelerator, nearly hitting another vehicle as he pulled out of his parking spot and spun his tires on the wet pavement before peeling out of the parking lot.
(“~*~”)
It was intermission when Cuddy headed up to her room in her quest to locate House. She really didn’t expect to find him there since it would be one of the most obvious places for her to look, much like Wilson’s office was at work-or rather, had been at one point but no longer. She had managed to wean him off of his almost obsessive compulsion to be around the oncologist since they had begun dating. Now he had lunches with her, spent his evenings when he didn’t have a case with Rachel and her and didn’t get into nearly the amount of mischief he used to when he and Wilson had been roommates. It was…nice, peaceful. House had surprised her with how hard he was trying to keep her happy. She knew that the diagnostician wasn’t always keen about what she asked of him at work and in his off hours, but all it took to keep him in line was to remind him about how he had promised to do his best to make this thing they had work.
Cuddy knew that he’d do just about anything to avoid ending up on the floor of his bathroom with a couple of Vicodin tablets in his hand all alone again. As a leader, she knew just how effective providing the proper motivation to a person was in influencing him to do what she wanted him to do. It was basic Psychology 101. It’s not like her ‘influence’ was hurting him; on the contrary, she was doing him a favor. He was becoming a more responsible, respectable man with her-and god knew how eager he was to please when it meant he could get into her pants and wake up occasionally in her bed rather than going without and waking up alone in his bed across town from hers.
She had thanked Sam earlier, as they had been shopping, for entering Wilson’s life and helping Wilson escape his codependent relationship with House. If Wilson had been available for him following the Trenton disaster, House wouldn’t have been desperately alone, in need of Cuddy’s love and willing to do just about anything for her. Not only had the Dean of Medicine got the man she really wanted in her bed, but he had become agreable enough that she hadn’t had to worry about having him around her daughter-and as a bonus, he gave her fewer headaches at the hospital as well.
At the room she wasn’t surprised to find it empty. There was, however, a letter left on her pillow from him. She read it over twice:
L,
Went to look for Wilson. He’s sick. I’m to blame for fucking up my priorities, but that’s going to change. Enjoy the rest of the conference without me.
G.
Cuddy closed her eyes and took a deep breath before blowing it out slowly through her mouth. Well, apparently she was going to have to do a little more molding with him and it pissed her off; she enjoyed the sex as much as he did.
(~*~)
“Are you certain your friend went fishing this afternoon?” the R.C.M.P constable working the reception desk asked the diagnostician, a serious expression on her face. House glanced at her name badge. J. Buissman. “Did he tell you or leave a note?”
House sighed, rolling his eyes. “No, he didn’t say as much and he didn’t leave a note. That’s why I’ve been hunting for him-but I know him better than anyone else on this planet. He wanted us to go fishing tomorrow and was disappointed when I told him I couldn’t. He lives in denial, runs away from his problems and tends to go off to be by himself-going fishing or for a hike alone would be just the thing he would do if he wasn’t getting loaded in a bar somewhere. Wilson is the most conscientious and careful person I know-except when he’s been drinking and depressed, both of which he was this afternoon. He left very quickly and I doubt that he took into consideration the weather and how cold it gets in the mountains at night. I doubt that he was prepared for what’s going on outside. If he were okay, he’d have had the sense to return to the hotel when the storm rolled in! So why don’t we stop playing ’20 Stupid Questions’ and actually start looking for him before he ends up getting hurt or killed!”
The constable glared at him indignantly and the rose from her chair. “I’ll get my sergeant.” She marched away from the safety-glass enclosed reception desk into another room.
“Of course!” House growled in frustration. “Because I haven’t repeated this story to you twice already so I really need to tell it over again with idiot behind door number two!”
His leg was really killing him, but he couldn’t stop and care for it until he knew Wilson was safe and secure back at the hotel. Just make certain he hadn’t returned in House’s absence, he called the hotel. He caught Cuddy in their room. He could tell by the sound of her voice that she wasn’t pleased; hell, she sounded downright pissed.
“Has Wilson returned yet?” were the first words he spoke when the phone was answered.
“Hello to you, too, Greg,” Cuddy snapped. “Where are you? You’re supposed to be attending the conference as a representative of the hospital, not bar hopping with Wilson--!”
“So I take it he still hasn’t returned,” House assumed from her diatribe with a remarkable amount of restraint for the stress he felt at that moment. “Fuck the hospital, Lisa! I’ve checked almost all of the bars and lounges in town and he wasn’t in any of them! I think he went fishing or on a hike on impulse and since it’s storming out and he hasn’t returned yet I’m thinking he may be in trouble. I’m currently at the RCMP detachment here in town trying to arrange some kind of search for him!”
“Oh my god,” Cuddy murmured, realizing the implications of what House was telling her. With more volume she announced, “I’ll go find Sam and we’ll meet you there as soon as possible!”
House swore under his breath. So the bitch Wilson had burdened himself with for a second round of torture was still soaking her pruny ass somewhere, completely unconcerned about his whereabouts, huh? He had the fleeting urge to return to the hotel, locate her in that spa and help her soak her entire head for two or three minutes; he promptly reminded himself that she wasn’t worth the gasoline for the two minute drive back much less a murder charge.
“No!” he told the Dean of Medicine before she could hang up the phone. “I need the two of you to stay there in case he returns while we’re searching for him.”
“How are you going to accomplish that, exactly?” Cuddy asked quizzically. There are dozens of lakes within a five minute drive from here and who knows how many hiking trails. It’ll take days!”
“We’d better hope it doesn’t,” the diagnostician told her somberly. “If he’s stuck out there in the elements for any length of time he could quickly become hypothermic! That’s besides the possibility that he could be sick or hurt! Gotta go.”
“Greg!” Cuddy said quickly into his ear. “Be careful-I don’t want to lose two department heads in one day!”
House was stunned for a moment; what she had just said stung him. “Of course!” he said sarcastically with hurt laced in his words. “We wouldn’t the hospital to lose such valuable assets-what a loss for the hospital!”
Before she could respond, he hung up and stuck his cell phone back into his jacket pocket. He didn’t have time to think anymore about Cuddy’s words because the constable was returning to her desk, her superior officer entering with her. Instead of remaining behind the glass partition the sergeant opened a door and emerged into the waiting area. He extended a hand in greeting.
“Hello, Mr. House, is it? I’m Sergeant Grewbock,” the cop told him.
House stared at the hand warily for a second before reluctantly giving it a brief shake and then letting go. “It’s Doctor House. I need you to set up a search for my missing friend before he dies out there!”
“Yes,” Grewbock acknowledged with a nod, his smile fading quickly. “The constable apprised me about your situation. There is no waiting period before you can file a missing person’s report, Dr. House so that’s not a problem. However, I need to be certain that the probability of your friend being missing in the wild is a very high one before I want to start calling in the Park Ranger and organizing an emergency search. How certain are you that your friend Mr. Wilson--?”
“Doctor James Wilson,” House corrected him quickly, cutting the cop off impatiently. “The longer he’s missing the more certain I am.” House explained his reason for believing Wilson was out in the elements somewhere for the third time in less than a half-an-hour. “The longer we wait here quibbling over probability tables the higher the risk is to his well-being!”
A few minutes later he was filling out the paperwork for the formal report while the cops and the Park officials were discussing the situation and making preparations for a search. They had frustrating news for House, however, which he didn’t take to that entirely well.
One of the rangers explained, “It’s already getting dark out there and the storm is only getting worse, not better. Since we don’t know exactly where to start looking, our chance of finding him in the dark under these conditions is too small to risk the safety of my people involved. With the wind and the lightening we can’t take a bird up for an aerial search, either. I’m afraid we can’t begin to hunt for him tonight. We are forced to wait until sunrise.”
“If he’s soaking wet without shelter or proper clothing on, he’ll be dead from hypothermia by sunrise!” House shouted angrily, pointing out a window for effect. “He has to be found as soon as possible!”
“I already have some of my people driving around to the various campsites and day-use areas in the area in search of him and the police have already begun to canvas the town,” the park warden told him, trying to reassure him as much as he could, but it wasn’t working.
House had a pretty good idea of what all Wilson would have to endure to survive the night in the wilds of the mountains. It was dangerous out there for even the best prepared person, but he knew that the oncologist couldn’t have been as prepared as necessary so the danger for him was increased significantly. One thing was for certain, he wasn’t going to stand around there and do nothing and hope that everything was going to be okay because he knew it wasn’t. He told the park warden that in spades.
“Fine,” a ranger standing nearby said, stepping forward. His badge read Ferster. “You can ride along with me, then. I’m heading out right now so if you’re coming let’s get a move on it!”
It wasn’t necessary to say it twice-House already had his jacket back on, his cane in hand. Together they went out a back exit to the parking lot where Ferster had parked his modified Range Rover. House hauled himself into the passenger seat of the SUV as the ranger jumped behind the wheel.
“Where are we going?” the diagnostician demanded once they were on their way out of town.
“There’s a series of popular lakes just outside of town. We’re going to check out two of them, Lake Minnewanka and Two Jack Lake. There are campsites, day use areas and hiking trails galore in that area.”
“You realize,” House said to Ferster, his blue eyes flaring in silent challenge, “that I won’t be satisfied with just searching campers and parking lots, don’t you?”
The ranger smiled slightly as he kept his eyes on the road. “Between you and me and the walls of this vehicle, Dr. House-neither will I.”
End Part Two
Author: pgrabia
Disclaimer: House M.D., its characters, locations and storyline are the property of David Shore, Bad Hat Harry Productions and the Fox Television Network. All Rights Reserved.
Pairing(s): House/Wilson pre-slash (UST), starting with some House/Cuddy and Wilson/Sam (but ending up H/W.).
A/N: A three-part story written in response to The Tic-Tac-Toe Challenge for Camp Sick!Wilson at the Sick!Wilson community at LiveJournal.com. The prompts were: dollhouse, running shoes and rainstorm. The locale is set in Banff National Park and the Town of Banff, Alberta, Canada. I’ve tried to be accurate, but even though I go there every year I am prone to making errors! If you catch any, please forgive me.
UnBeta-ed. All mistakes are completely my own.
Spoiler Alert: This story includes spoilers for all seasons of House M.D. up to and including Season 6 Ep. 22 “Help Me”. This takes approximately two months after the events of the Season Six season finale.
Word Count: 5996
Rating: R (to be safe) for mature themes, sexual language, coarse language, mild violence.
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Part Two
A cool wind had picked up since before lunch, and a few clouds had rolled in but the sun was still shining and warm against Wilson’s face. The surface of Two Jack Lake rippled and rolled with the wind, obscuring the reflection of the mountains. He could hear the blowing air rustle the leaves of the odd deciduous tree and whisper around the triangular forms of pine and black spruce. He found a picnic table and sat down, just allowing the raw beauty of the landscape to soothe his upset soul. He forced thoughts about Sam and House out of his mind, trying to keep it a blank slate for nature to write upon.
After a little while he got up from the picnic table and sauntered past a small family of four having a picnic, the only other human beings he’d seen since his arrival. He followed a sign that indicated that there were walking trails up ahead. He figured a nice hike would be just the thing to clear his head and elevate his spirit. He located one of the paths, just a foot-trodden dirt depression that wound around, between and over trees and tree trunks and small bushes. He followed it, walking carefully to make certain that he didn’t trip over any tree roots and other underbrush as he went along. It was incredibly quiet except for the wind in the trees, the bird song overhead, the crunch of leaves and twigs under his feet and the odd chattering of brown squirrels and chipmunks as they scurried along the ground or ran up and down trees. He was used to living in the predominantly urbanized environment that was New Jersey and was never far away from the sounds of motor vehicles and air travel roaring around and overhead.
He felt so at ease there and was glad that he had decided to get away from the antagonists of his life for a while and just walk in peace and simply…be. The path he’d been following branched off three ways and he had to choose which path to take. A smile crossed his lips as he stepped out and along the one that seemed the least established, the poetic words of Robert Frost whispering in his ears. That path eventually forked as well. He went left, thinking that it was the path that would lead him out of the thick bush and back along the lakefront. After several minutes of walking Wilson discovered that he had been mistaken. He found himself moving deeper into the woods.
Stopping in an attempt to get his bearings, Wilson found a fallen log and sat down on it to rest a while. While of course there was shade from the trees, it seemed to him that it was getting darker that what could be explained away as the canopy cover, and the temperature felt like it had dropped several degrees in the past twenty minutes or so. He could hear the wind begin to whistle through the forest as it picked up strength, adding to the feeling of the ambient temperature falling. He checked his watch; the oncologist had been hiking for a good hour, and figured it was probably time to head back to the rental car and return to the hotel. Wilson took a couple of good pulls from the flask he carried and then tucked it back into his pocket. He began to backtrack, but quickly realized he must have taken a wrong turn, because as he proceeded nothing looked familiar and he could hear what sounded like a rushing stream flowing over rocks. The further he went, the louder the sound became until he found himself entering a break in the trees and standing on the back of a fast-flowing mountain stream. It wasn’t very wide and didn’t look very deep. He came to realize that he had gotten himself lost.
'Shit!' Wilson thought to himself angrily. What an incredibly stupid thing to do! What kind of idiot ventures out all by himself into unknown terrain without keeping closer track of where he is going? He blamed his poor judgment on the beer, two double scotches and few swallows of bourbon.
He didn’t have a compass or a map, his cell phone was useless out there in the middle of nowhere, and nobody back at the hotel knew where he was. The sky overhead had clouded completely over while he was in the bush and the dark grey sky began to spit cold raindrops down at him.
Somebody upstairs really didn’t like him, he decided bitterly. Wilson shook his head, unable to believe how quickly the weather had changed! He wondered if that was something that typically happened in the mountains, or it was just another example of his bad luck. It was getting cold out, and his light-duty jacket wasn’t doing a very good job against the rain or cold.
One thing Wilson did know was that he had to pee and the influx of water all around him didn’t help matters. Sighing, he found himself a spot and took care of business. After he stepped back towards the stream, edged slowly and carefully towards the edge and knelt carefully on the wet rocks. He stuck his hands into the stream to wash them and jerked them back suddenly in surprise. The water was ice cold! Just a few seconds in it would easily numb his hands. He made very quick work of rinsing his hands in the water and then rubbed them dry on his jeans. He surveyed his surroundings, trying to figure out what his best bet would be to find his way back to the day use area as quickly as possible. The rain was really beginning to come down and he could hear distant thunder echo between the mountains.
Great, a rainstorm was moving in. That was all Wilson needed. He decided that his best bet would be to backtrack to the fallen log he’d rested at and then take the other path at the fork. That one would likely lead him back to the better worn paths that would take him back to his car. It was worth a shot anyway. Anything was better than standing in the middle of a forest or along a stream during a thunderstorm in the cold, pouring rain waiting to be attacked and eaten by a bear. Not wanting to dwell too long on that particular mental image, the oncologist rose quickly to his full height-far too quickly-and was once again struck by lightheadedness. He felt himself drift in dizziness, then felt his footing on the smooth, wet rocks beneath him give way. He began to fall while at the same time his left foot slid between two rocks, jamming and wedging itself there as the full weight of his body propelled him sideways into the stream. He heard the stomach-turning crunch of his ankle breaking a split second before the screaming agony shot up his leg to his spine and then to his brain, stunning him. He heard himself scream as if he were outside of himself.
One of the rocks at his ankle gave way enough for his foot to be freed, and before Wilson’s mind could register any other kind of rational thought he found himself being swallowed up by the flowing, churning ice water. He hadn’t been prepared to be immersed completely, so he had failed to catch his breath quickly enough and took frigid water into his lungs. He thrashed about wildly with no coordination amongst his four limbs as he fought to find and break through the water surface. Once his head broke through he tried to take in a breath but couldn’t displace the water that was in his bronchial tubes which made further inhalation next to impossible. Put simply, he was drowning.
He coughed and coughed, water being brought up a little at a time and allowing in just enough air to enable further coughing and further gasps for breath. The water hadn’t looked nearly deep enough to completely immerse him in but he’d been wrong. Wilson felt the strong current pulling him away from the rocky edge and begin to carry him down stream. He fought against the current, but between his gasps for breath, the ice cold water quickly numbing his extremities and the speed of the water, he was losing the battle. The cold was so intense that it wasn’t only causing him to lose feeling in his arms and legs; it was also numbing his mind. He couldn’t think straight and it occurred to him that this was the way he was going to die; not from gastritis or liver failure but by drowning in an icy mountain river in Canada, all alone with no one having any idea that it was happening or even where he was or would end up.
His survival instinct kicked in, and a long forgotten piece of trivia stored deep in the recesses of his mind flashed before his consciousness; the only way to reach the shore was to quit fighting the current; instead he had to swim perpendicular to the direction of the flow.
He focused on having his mind command his limbs to work, hoping that they were, in fact, stroking and kicking since he couldn’t actually feel them doing so. He felt tired and confused but by sheer force of will he was fighting for his life and succeeding. It seemed like an eternity but at some point Wilson could see that the river’s edge was within reach. He flailed wildly, trying to grab onto a boulder or tree root-anything-to pull himself from the death grip of the water. After several tries he managed to snag onto a low-lying tree branch extending slightly over the stream. His hands were numb but somehow he managed to keep holding on tightly enough to stop him from being carried any further downstream. He felt like he had absolutely no strength left, but he couldn’t give up, he knew. Not yet. He was just about on land!
Gritting his teeth Wilson summoned every ounce of strength left in his frozen, battered body and began to pull himself out of the water, slowly, little bit by little bit until he was able to grasp onto dirt and roots a rock outcroppings and drag himself, finally, onto dry land. He collapsed the moment he was completely clear, flat on his stomach, his face in the detritus and dirt of the forest floor. He coughed and sputtered, bringing up water from his lungs and bloodied vomit from his enflamed stomach. He inched forward so that his face wasn’t resting in his own sick and then was perfectly still again, panting and gasping for air. He was cold, so very cold.
Wilson figured that he had pulled himself out of the river only to die in the elements on terra firma. He was certain that he would never see another human being again and wanted more than anything at that moment to have House there with him so that he wouldn’t have to die all alone. His last thought before he succumbed to the darkness of unconsciousness was that he would never get the chance to tell House that he loved him while he had the chance….
(~*~)
House sat on the end of the row of seats so that he could stretch out his damaged leg into the aisle to prevent it from cramping up during the seemingly unending stream of presentations and keynote speakers. Next to him Cuddy sat enraptured by whatever it was the speaker was going on and on about; House had no idea what it was because he hadn’t been able to pay attention to anything but his own worried thoughts spinning around in his head. Next to Cuddy was an empty seat. The Harpy had decided to skip the afternoon’s official events to ‘soothe her anger’ at being abandoned by her ‘drunk boyfriend’ in the warmth of the mineral bath at the hotel spa. She’d turned her fangs on House when he had returned from the men’s room alone, accusing his history of heavy drinking of ‘tainting James and teaching him this kind of irresponsible behavior’.
House hadn’t cared about what that bitch had had to say, but it had hurt when Cuddy had nodded along with her words sympathetically and had failed to speak in his defense; there really wasn’t one, but that wasn’t the point. Her silence had been a sign of tacit agreement with what Sam had said. Of course, he hadn’t shown any reaction to this; he was a master at hiding what he was really feeling inside and he wasn’t about to give the women the satisfaction of knowing that they had scored a painful point against him. Instead he’d made snide comments and waited a few minutes before excusing himself from the table and the lounge. He’d gone to look for Wilson but hadn’t been able to locate him before Cuddy had found the diagnostician and literally dragged him to the open assembly.
He cursed himself for not standing up to his girlfriend who was also his boss; technically he was there on hospital time and coin and therefore she was his employer more than his lover while they were there. They had grudgingly agreed that at work he listened to her and was her subordinate and at home they were equals and he had been so determined to prove himself to her and make their relationship work that he had been nearly killing himself to stick to his word. His bottom lip and tongue were practically hamburger after months of biting off sarcastic, cynical and outright angry remarks and protests at work and at home.
Cuddy hadn’t shown a lot of give on her side of the equation, either; she hadn’t yet relaxed any of her rules and expectations of him in either area of their relationship and he felt as if he was being kept on a very short leash most of the time. She expected him to drop everything at a moment’s notice to babysit Rachel whenever she got a call from the hospital or something else ‘urgent’ occurred and she had to leave for a few hours. He wouldn’t have minded doing so occasionally if she’d asked him rather told him and hadn’t mentioned on a couple of occasions that Lucas had never complained about it. He had allowed himself to be cowed and domesticated by her; her wanted her to be happy. Along the way he had forgotten that he was supposed to be happy, too. He wasn’t. He wasn’t unhappy, really, but the happiness he had hoped he would find with her had been for the most part elusive. It existed only during and for a little while after the phenomenal sex they had but it was temporary and incomplete at best.
The great Gregory House, hen-pecked, he grumbled to himself in disdain. His blue eyes leered at her lovely face and incredible body (every inch of which he had memorized by now) and he felt horny, not happy. He certainly loved her; of that there was no doubt, but he was beginning to wonder if love alone was enough. He wondered if mutual respect, trust and genuine communication weren’t just as vital to the survival of their relationship-and his happiness-as love.
It occurred to him then and there that he loved her, but he wasn’t in love with her. Well, actually he had known that from day one but he had convinced himself almost completely that falling in love with her would be inevitable; now he was convinced that it hadn’t been and would not ever be. But things were pleasant enough, usually and the sex-goddamn the sex was great!-and being with someone was a hell of a lot better than being all alone. She was there for him, at least; Wilson used to be there for him but was with Sam now. Being with Cuddy was sufficient, or at least it had been before this trip; after seeing how Wilson was truly faring and listening to his heartbreaking confession earlier combined with the diagnostician’s own deep concern over his friend’s deteriorating health, he had come to the conclusion that it wasn’t anymore.
'Shit!' He exclaimed in his head. 'What the hell do I do now?'
Cuddy must have sensed that he was looking at her because she turned her head to look right back at him. She gave him a puzzled expression and small smile, then returned her attention back to the speaker. House sighed audibly and then grabbed his cane from where he’d hung it over the back of his seat and stood up to leave. Cuddy caught his wrist.
“Where are you going?” she demanded in a whisper loud enough for everyone in their row and the two rows ahead and behind to hear as well.
“My leg’s cramping up,” he lied, pulling gently against her grip, but she didn’t let go--short leash indeed! “Gotta walk it off.”
“It’s almost over. Wait until then!”
“What was that?” he responded, feigning deafness. “Sorry, didn’t catch that. Got to walk, now!” He yanked his arm more forcibly this time and freed himself from her ever-tightening grip, quickly limping up the aisle before he could be stopped again.
He stepped out of the banquet hall into the brighter lit foyer outside and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He hadn’t been completely lying about his leg; it had been hurting considerably more since lunch than it had been all week. He didn’t think it was due to Wilson’s shove; he really hadn’t pushed House all that hard, he hadn’t hit his right leg against anything and he had caught himself before he fell. After all, it could have been worse. Wilson had a wicked left hook. House’s hand rubbed and kneaded at the damaged thigh muscle in his leg. He reached into the pocket of his sports jacket and pulled out a bottle ibuprofen. He dry-swallowed three of them then slipped the bottle back into his pocket.
House tried to come up with an idea of where the oncologist would have gone while in the state of mind he had been earlier. His first thought was, naturally, a bar or lounge somewhere. It was difficult for House to admit to himself that Wilson was abusing alcohol, perhaps even becoming dependent on it, to get through his day. The diagnostician had known that things with Sam would crash and burn eventually and had tried to warn Wilson of that before he had become too deeply involved with his ex-wife, but he hadn’t expected this. All of the anger and resentment he’d held for the younger man for pushing him aside in favor of the Harpy was now completely gone. The only thing he cared about was finding Wilson and helping him through this. Wilson had been there for him during his drug addiction, heavy drinking and illnesses; the diagnostician would now be there for him, whether the younger man wanted him to be or not-but first he had to locate him.
He’d pounded on Wilson’s hotel room door until other guests threatened to call security; he’d searched all of the lounges in the main resort with no luck. That didn’t mean that he wasn’t there, but House doubted it. He went to the front desk and asked if he had left any messages with them but he hadn’t. House had the desk call the golf course to see if he’d been there but he hadn’t checked in; he wasn’t drinking in the clubhouse, either. He went to the liquor store on the premises, but the clerk there told him that no one matching Wilson’s description had been in there all day. With each unsuccessful search the diagnostician’s concern intensified.
'Damnit, Wilson,' He yelled internally, 'where the hell have you gone?'
Obviously, he’d left the hotel property. He’d likely driven into the town to find a bar or lounge there to tank up at, and there were a good number of them. It seemed like an insurmountable task to search them all with his leg screaming at him like it was but he knew he had to at least try. At the front desk he inquired about the rental car and, as he had suspected, it was gone. House obtained a list of restaurants and bars in Banff and then arranged to rent a car of his own. He was about to set out when he looked out a window and saw that the sky had clouded over with some nasty looking steel grey clouds and it had begun to rain. Well, that explained the increased pain in his leg. He’d need a jacket.
House made his way painfully back to his Cuddy’s and his room where he changed into a t-shirt and pulled a sweatshirt over top, and changed out of the dress trousers Cuddy had insisted he wear into a comfortable pair of familiar jeans. Almost as an afterthought he went to the desk and pulled out a complimentary sheet of writing paper and a pen and quickly scrawled out a short note to let Cuddy know what he was doing.
'Ah, domestication!' he sighed silently,wearily.
Grabbing his black leather jacket he hurriedly left the room and made his way down to where his rental car was waiting for him. He got into the car, spread out the map of Banff and the list across the passenger seat and then set out on his hunt. One by one he hit the various locations on the list and one by one he crossed them off, not finding Wilson at any of them. After ten stops House had to rest in the car for a while because of his leg. He couldn’t shut out the mental images of his friend passed out somewhere, dying from internal bleeding from the gastritis, acute liver failure from the hepatitis or simply from drunkenness.
He chastised himself for allowing his emotions to cloud his thinking. He had to operate on logic if he was going to find the other man.
A bright flash, a crack of thunder and the sudden increase to the strength of the rain falling brought the diagnostician’s mind back to attention. He knew that sudden weather changes were not uncommon in the mountains, which made it quite hazardous at times for those outdoors-types who enjoyed the varied pursuits available to them in the area.
Then it hit House like a shot between two wide-open blue eyes.
Wilson’s words echoed in his ears: 'What do you say to us hiring a guide, renting some gear and taking in a day of fishing at one of the lakes around here tomorrow…?'
There was another flash of lightening followed shortly after by a crack and rumble of thunder. The rain was coming down nearly by the bucketful.
“You idiot…you didn’t…, did you?” House whispered out loud, feeling his stomach flip in anxiety. The answer was plainly obvious now. “Fuck! Of course you did!” he added in a growl.
House checked his map and located the local police station, then started the car, yanked the gear shift into reverse and hit the accelerator, nearly hitting another vehicle as he pulled out of his parking spot and spun his tires on the wet pavement before peeling out of the parking lot.
(“~*~”)
It was intermission when Cuddy headed up to her room in her quest to locate House. She really didn’t expect to find him there since it would be one of the most obvious places for her to look, much like Wilson’s office was at work-or rather, had been at one point but no longer. She had managed to wean him off of his almost obsessive compulsion to be around the oncologist since they had begun dating. Now he had lunches with her, spent his evenings when he didn’t have a case with Rachel and her and didn’t get into nearly the amount of mischief he used to when he and Wilson had been roommates. It was…nice, peaceful. House had surprised her with how hard he was trying to keep her happy. She knew that the diagnostician wasn’t always keen about what she asked of him at work and in his off hours, but all it took to keep him in line was to remind him about how he had promised to do his best to make this thing they had work.
Cuddy knew that he’d do just about anything to avoid ending up on the floor of his bathroom with a couple of Vicodin tablets in his hand all alone again. As a leader, she knew just how effective providing the proper motivation to a person was in influencing him to do what she wanted him to do. It was basic Psychology 101. It’s not like her ‘influence’ was hurting him; on the contrary, she was doing him a favor. He was becoming a more responsible, respectable man with her-and god knew how eager he was to please when it meant he could get into her pants and wake up occasionally in her bed rather than going without and waking up alone in his bed across town from hers.
She had thanked Sam earlier, as they had been shopping, for entering Wilson’s life and helping Wilson escape his codependent relationship with House. If Wilson had been available for him following the Trenton disaster, House wouldn’t have been desperately alone, in need of Cuddy’s love and willing to do just about anything for her. Not only had the Dean of Medicine got the man she really wanted in her bed, but he had become agreable enough that she hadn’t had to worry about having him around her daughter-and as a bonus, he gave her fewer headaches at the hospital as well.
At the room she wasn’t surprised to find it empty. There was, however, a letter left on her pillow from him. She read it over twice:
L,
Went to look for Wilson. He’s sick. I’m to blame for fucking up my priorities, but that’s going to change. Enjoy the rest of the conference without me.
G.
Cuddy closed her eyes and took a deep breath before blowing it out slowly through her mouth. Well, apparently she was going to have to do a little more molding with him and it pissed her off; she enjoyed the sex as much as he did.
(~*~)
“Are you certain your friend went fishing this afternoon?” the R.C.M.P constable working the reception desk asked the diagnostician, a serious expression on her face. House glanced at her name badge. J. Buissman. “Did he tell you or leave a note?”
House sighed, rolling his eyes. “No, he didn’t say as much and he didn’t leave a note. That’s why I’ve been hunting for him-but I know him better than anyone else on this planet. He wanted us to go fishing tomorrow and was disappointed when I told him I couldn’t. He lives in denial, runs away from his problems and tends to go off to be by himself-going fishing or for a hike alone would be just the thing he would do if he wasn’t getting loaded in a bar somewhere. Wilson is the most conscientious and careful person I know-except when he’s been drinking and depressed, both of which he was this afternoon. He left very quickly and I doubt that he took into consideration the weather and how cold it gets in the mountains at night. I doubt that he was prepared for what’s going on outside. If he were okay, he’d have had the sense to return to the hotel when the storm rolled in! So why don’t we stop playing ’20 Stupid Questions’ and actually start looking for him before he ends up getting hurt or killed!”
The constable glared at him indignantly and the rose from her chair. “I’ll get my sergeant.” She marched away from the safety-glass enclosed reception desk into another room.
“Of course!” House growled in frustration. “Because I haven’t repeated this story to you twice already so I really need to tell it over again with idiot behind door number two!”
His leg was really killing him, but he couldn’t stop and care for it until he knew Wilson was safe and secure back at the hotel. Just make certain he hadn’t returned in House’s absence, he called the hotel. He caught Cuddy in their room. He could tell by the sound of her voice that she wasn’t pleased; hell, she sounded downright pissed.
“Has Wilson returned yet?” were the first words he spoke when the phone was answered.
“Hello to you, too, Greg,” Cuddy snapped. “Where are you? You’re supposed to be attending the conference as a representative of the hospital, not bar hopping with Wilson--!”
“So I take it he still hasn’t returned,” House assumed from her diatribe with a remarkable amount of restraint for the stress he felt at that moment. “Fuck the hospital, Lisa! I’ve checked almost all of the bars and lounges in town and he wasn’t in any of them! I think he went fishing or on a hike on impulse and since it’s storming out and he hasn’t returned yet I’m thinking he may be in trouble. I’m currently at the RCMP detachment here in town trying to arrange some kind of search for him!”
“Oh my god,” Cuddy murmured, realizing the implications of what House was telling her. With more volume she announced, “I’ll go find Sam and we’ll meet you there as soon as possible!”
House swore under his breath. So the bitch Wilson had burdened himself with for a second round of torture was still soaking her pruny ass somewhere, completely unconcerned about his whereabouts, huh? He had the fleeting urge to return to the hotel, locate her in that spa and help her soak her entire head for two or three minutes; he promptly reminded himself that she wasn’t worth the gasoline for the two minute drive back much less a murder charge.
“No!” he told the Dean of Medicine before she could hang up the phone. “I need the two of you to stay there in case he returns while we’re searching for him.”
“How are you going to accomplish that, exactly?” Cuddy asked quizzically. There are dozens of lakes within a five minute drive from here and who knows how many hiking trails. It’ll take days!”
“We’d better hope it doesn’t,” the diagnostician told her somberly. “If he’s stuck out there in the elements for any length of time he could quickly become hypothermic! That’s besides the possibility that he could be sick or hurt! Gotta go.”
“Greg!” Cuddy said quickly into his ear. “Be careful-I don’t want to lose two department heads in one day!”
House was stunned for a moment; what she had just said stung him. “Of course!” he said sarcastically with hurt laced in his words. “We wouldn’t the hospital to lose such valuable assets-what a loss for the hospital!”
Before she could respond, he hung up and stuck his cell phone back into his jacket pocket. He didn’t have time to think anymore about Cuddy’s words because the constable was returning to her desk, her superior officer entering with her. Instead of remaining behind the glass partition the sergeant opened a door and emerged into the waiting area. He extended a hand in greeting.
“Hello, Mr. House, is it? I’m Sergeant Grewbock,” the cop told him.
House stared at the hand warily for a second before reluctantly giving it a brief shake and then letting go. “It’s Doctor House. I need you to set up a search for my missing friend before he dies out there!”
“Yes,” Grewbock acknowledged with a nod, his smile fading quickly. “The constable apprised me about your situation. There is no waiting period before you can file a missing person’s report, Dr. House so that’s not a problem. However, I need to be certain that the probability of your friend being missing in the wild is a very high one before I want to start calling in the Park Ranger and organizing an emergency search. How certain are you that your friend Mr. Wilson--?”
“Doctor James Wilson,” House corrected him quickly, cutting the cop off impatiently. “The longer he’s missing the more certain I am.” House explained his reason for believing Wilson was out in the elements somewhere for the third time in less than a half-an-hour. “The longer we wait here quibbling over probability tables the higher the risk is to his well-being!”
A few minutes later he was filling out the paperwork for the formal report while the cops and the Park officials were discussing the situation and making preparations for a search. They had frustrating news for House, however, which he didn’t take to that entirely well.
One of the rangers explained, “It’s already getting dark out there and the storm is only getting worse, not better. Since we don’t know exactly where to start looking, our chance of finding him in the dark under these conditions is too small to risk the safety of my people involved. With the wind and the lightening we can’t take a bird up for an aerial search, either. I’m afraid we can’t begin to hunt for him tonight. We are forced to wait until sunrise.”
“If he’s soaking wet without shelter or proper clothing on, he’ll be dead from hypothermia by sunrise!” House shouted angrily, pointing out a window for effect. “He has to be found as soon as possible!”
“I already have some of my people driving around to the various campsites and day-use areas in the area in search of him and the police have already begun to canvas the town,” the park warden told him, trying to reassure him as much as he could, but it wasn’t working.
House had a pretty good idea of what all Wilson would have to endure to survive the night in the wilds of the mountains. It was dangerous out there for even the best prepared person, but he knew that the oncologist couldn’t have been as prepared as necessary so the danger for him was increased significantly. One thing was for certain, he wasn’t going to stand around there and do nothing and hope that everything was going to be okay because he knew it wasn’t. He told the park warden that in spades.
“Fine,” a ranger standing nearby said, stepping forward. His badge read Ferster. “You can ride along with me, then. I’m heading out right now so if you’re coming let’s get a move on it!”
It wasn’t necessary to say it twice-House already had his jacket back on, his cane in hand. Together they went out a back exit to the parking lot where Ferster had parked his modified Range Rover. House hauled himself into the passenger seat of the SUV as the ranger jumped behind the wheel.
“Where are we going?” the diagnostician demanded once they were on their way out of town.
“There’s a series of popular lakes just outside of town. We’re going to check out two of them, Lake Minnewanka and Two Jack Lake. There are campsites, day use areas and hiking trails galore in that area.”
“You realize,” House said to Ferster, his blue eyes flaring in silent challenge, “that I won’t be satisfied with just searching campers and parking lots, don’t you?”
The ranger smiled slightly as he kept his eyes on the road. “Between you and me and the walls of this vehicle, Dr. House-neither will I.”
End Part Two