Lucas
Title: Lucas
Author: rslworks
Prompt: Lucas is unstable, but it’s understated enough that it takes a near tragedy for anyone to notice; Wilson is the injured party.
Pairing: Cuddy/Lucas
Category: hurt/comfort
Rating/Warnings: pg-13
Words: 3856
Summary: see prompt
Disclaimer: No rights to House MD or any of its characters, sigh.
(Beta:) Myself, with thanks to 3rdgal for some needed direction and encouragement!
A/N: Thanks for the extension. On top of everything I’ve been sick, so this is right down to the proverbial wire!
Lucas always made Wilson uneasy. It had been that way right from the start. Maybe it was the circumstances of his arrival, maybe something more. True, he came on the scene at the worst point in Wilson’s life, and all because of House and his prying, even pathological interference, but still.
Wilson’s mouth pursed as he thought on it. It was definitely more. Lucas reminded Wilson of a ferret, or a weasel, only far less cute. He was a fidgety, edgy, nervous individual in Wilson’s eyes. Crafty, even insightful at times, it was no wonder he made a living as a private investigator, but there was something incredibly off-putting about him. It bothered Wilson that he couldn’t quite put his finger to it. And it really bothered him that no one else seemed to notice. Others seemed to like the guy. Cuddy, for God’s sake, liked the guy.
Wilson continued to ponder and fixed his stare on the elevator numbers as they lit up one by one. He got some secret satisfaction out of the fact that House’s choice of P.I. had come back to bite him in the ass BIG TIME where Cuddy was concerned. But then Lucas had truly crossed the line at the conference a few months ago. Sitting at that booth with House, Cuddy and Lucas, Wilson had been dumbfounded as Lucas opened his mouth and proceeded to babble everything he supposedly knew about House and his mental illness. It was then that Wilson decided this man had no boundaries whatsoever. At the time, he’d been terribly disappointed in Cuddy for her poor judgment in sharing that stuff with the likes of this guy she was bedding, but Lucas was the bigger jerk by far.
‘Yup, I don’t like him,’ Wilson decided to himself. ‘And there’s no reason I have to like him.’
The light for the fourth floor had just glowed when there was a tremendous squeal, followed by a gut-wrenching lurch that caused Wilson to spread his feet and swing his briefcase in the air to balance himself.
‘What the hell,’ he whispered when he had swallowed his stomach back down.
One more frightening shudder and the car froze, doors refusing to open. Wilson guessed he was suspended somewhere between the third and fourth floors now. Heaving one of his patented sighs, he set down the briefcase and reached into his breast pocket for his cell.
‘Kid me all you want, House, but this is what it means to be prepared for bad things,’ he thought, knowing with all certainty that his cell phone was fully charged and just waiting to offer rescue at the touch of a button. But before he could flip it open, the maintenance panel in the ceiling scraped aside and a pair of jean-clad legs began to flail their way down into the car. Wilson backed out of the way, slack-jawed with incredulity over the efficiency of the maintenance department, and then he caught the flash of an argyle-clad ankle at eye level.
“Coming down!” came a warning shout, as the aforementioned legs organized themselves to drop in.
Wilson was still processing, his eyebrows smashing together. ‘Who in maintenance wears argyle socks?’
“Ta da!”
There stood Lucas, brandishing a clumsy harness and tool belt.
Wilson stared a moment longer, wondering if he had hit his head when the elevator lurched and was continuing his daydream about Lucas. This was just too convenient, or way too creepy.
“So, you were just hanging around the elevators, waiting for a rare malfunction so you could show off your rescue skills?” he began.
Lucas however, didn’t miss a beat. “Something like that. But if you don’t want me here, I guess I could just leave the way I came.”
Wilson held his hands up in surrender. “Alright, point taken. Thank you for coming.” He stopped to viciously wring his neck. “Can you get this thing moving again, or do I have to get out the way you arrived?”
Now Lucas smiled. “That’s better.” He dropped his harness and tool belt to the floor and laced both hands on top of his head, looking around.
“Actually, I don’t know a thing about elevators. But I did let the electrician know what the problem was before I came down here. We’ll just have to wait for him,” he concluded matter-of-factly.
Wilson’s heart sank almost as fast as the elevator car had. “O-kay then.”
“So,” Lucas began, arranging himself on the floor, cross-legged, “how come you and House are best friends?”
Irritation began to creep up the back of Wilson’s neck. He walked to the opposing wall and leaned back, arms folded across his chest.
“You went to the trouble to repel into a suspiciously-stuck elevator to play twenty questions with me! Why do you need to know?”
A shrug. “I don’t know. Why does anyone need to know anything? I’m curious.”
‘Mmmn, nosey’s more like it,’ Wilson thought, relinquishing a tight smile. If this wasn’t the last person on earth Wilson wanted to be trapped in an elevator with, he was probably a very close second.
“You don’t like me much, do you?” Lucas stated, offering his own version of a polite smile.
“I, ah...haven’t given it much thought, really. Is it important to you that I like you?”
Another shrug. “If you’re asking do I need you to like me, then, no, not at all. I’m more interested in why you don’t like me.”
“Look, Lucas, if we’re going to be here for any length of time, I really don’t want to get into some long, arduous, philosophical debate with you. Can’t we just chitchat about something facile and harmless, like the weather, or... I don’t know, Cuddy’s cup size?”
Lucas straightened out his legs and began to play with the leather strap on the tool belt beside him.
“Right. That’s good, facile and harmless. No wonder House hangs around you.”
“Excuse me? What are you babbling about?” Heat was joining irritation in creeping through his neck and face.
“I’m sorry; hit a nerve, have I?” Lucas rose to his feet and took one step toward Wilson.
“You see,” he continued quietly and evenly, “it’s crystal clear to me that you are House’s greatest puzzle. And everyone knows how much House loves puzzles.”
“What’s your point?” Wilson snarled before he could help himself.
Lucas laughed openly. “Careful now, somebody might think less of you if you lose your temper. Can’t let anyone hear or see anything less than the thoughtful, caring, organ-donating oncologist that you are.”
Wilson’s expressive brown eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Why are you being so aggressive? What is it to you how other people perceive me?” he sputtered. “You know, just because you’re dating Cuddy -“
“I’m allowed to have an opinion, regardless of who I’m with, Wilson!” Now Lucas’s voice rose to challenge the oncologist’s. Before James could counter, Lucas began to pace. “I’m getting a little tired of people thinking I’m not good enough for Lisa Cuddy!”
Surprised, Wilson stepped back in. “I wasn’t aware anyone had ever said that. You must have terribly low self-esteem to jump to that conclusion.” A new thought occurred and he found himself amused, so he went on. “Unless you find it a little difficult not to compare yourself to that other guy you keep mentioning, you know, the one Cuddy’s never actually gotten over,” he grinned with evil satisfaction.
The grin evaporated instantly as Wilson suddenly found himself pinned against the wall, Lucas’s right hand tightly grasping him by the throat. His breath was sour and there was sweat collecting on his upper lip.
“There…see,” he began, “I may not have years and years of schooling under my belt, but I would never make a mistake as dumb as what you just said.” He reached out with his left hand and opened the electrical panel within the elevator wall.
Too stunned to move Wilson watched, fascinated as Lucas hastily removed some recent wiring handiwork which Wilson now suspected had caused the elevator to malfunction in the first place. Next he wondered if anyone from maintenance even knew they were in here…
That realization seemed enough to make him aware he might be in a difficult situation. Planting his feet squarely, he grabbed Lucas’s wrist and forcibly detached himself. But Lucas was not so easily discouraged, and with his free arm he slammed his left fist into his opponent’s temple. Unable to avoid the blow or shield himself in any way, Wilson’s head snapped to the right and he dropped to the floor, just as the elevator car lurched heavily, lights flickering, and they began to rise.
“Mistake number two, you moron,” Lucas hissed, standing over him.
Though his head was spinning badly, Wilson didn’t lose consciousness. White hot anger began to course through him, and suddenly he felt like a 12-year-old facing a bully on the school playground. He scrambled to his feet, intent on plowing into Lucas with all his might. But what he focused on next caused him to freeze in total disbelief.
Lucas stood there looking as composed and comfortable with a snub-nosed gun in his hand as if he were holding a newspaper or a glass of water.
“Back up. Back up against the wall.”
Wilson complied slowly and carefully, never taking his eyes off Lucas-actually, never taking his eyes off the gun. Mentally, he took note of the fact he had never had a gun leveled at him before, loaded or otherwise; and he was pretty sure he could have gone the rest of his life without this particular experience. Then there was Lucas. He had gone from annoying to menacing in short order, and this was seriously disturbing.
He watched as Lucas palmed the elevator panel and depressed number 5.
“Just what do you think you’re going to do now, Lucas? What happens when we get off the elevator?” Wilson shouted.
“You can’t expect people to walk by completely oblivious while you wave a gun around. And if you shoot me you will never get out of this hospital alive!” He stopped and flapped his arms against his sides. “How did you get in here with that thing, anyway? Security-“
“Give me a little credit for something, Wilson, especially where spying and skulking around are concerned.”
Wilson spit out a nervous laugh. “Of course, how short-sighted of me.”
There was a ping for the fifth floor and Lucas reached over and put the elevator on hold.
Wilson continued to gaze at the gun and realized he was holding his breath.
“Here’s what’s going to happen now,” Lucas began, “I’m going to put this little weapon in my jacket pocket and you’re going to walk in front of me off this elevator. I’ll be right behind you. Close behind you. We’re going to turn left and walk directly to the end of the hall and into the stairwell. From there we take the stairs to the roof and continue our friendly little discussion. Got it?”
“I’m not going to just waltz off the elevator like nothing -“
“If anyone calls out to you or interrupts us, you’ll just tell them you’re in a hurry right now and whatever it is will have to wait a little bit.”
Wilson was shaking his head as he listened and this infuriated Lucas, who grabbed him by the arm and spun him around, pushing him toward the elevator door.
“Yes, you will James,” he nodded, whispering close in Wilson’s ear. “Because if you don’t behave, I’ll grab the nearest nurse or unsuspecting candy striper and make an example of them instead of you. And that will be your fault. I know you don’t want that, so cut the crap.”
He punctuated his words with a bruising squeeze to Wilson’s left elbow and released the elevator.
The walk down the corridor for Wilson was surreal. The knowledge that Lucas held a gun at his back through a veil of cotton fabric paled in comparison to the weight of the responsibility he felt for every human being that passed by them in those few seconds from the elevator to the stairwell. A lump of tremendous proportions lodged in Wilson’s throat and his pulse thundered in his ears in a deafening lub-dub. Dark spots began to form in front of his eyes by the time his legs carried him to the stairwell door. People had looked, but no one approached.
“Thank God,” he whispered, slumping against the wall when they were alone in the stairwell. Only the cool air that circulated here at this time of year kept him from hyperventilating.
“Yeah, yeah, get up the stairs,” ordered Lucas, prodding him in the back with his weapon.
As they climbed the short flight of stairs to the door for the roof, Wilson’s mind whirled so fast he couldn’t grab hold of a single coherent or useful thought. Where is this going? He must be nuts! Why would he shoot me? What does he want?
“Wait!” Lucas barked, looking around. They’d reached the door. He pushed Wilson aside and peered out the small window. Seeing no one, he pulled open the door and shoved Wilson out.
Bright morning sunshine assaulted Wilson’s eyes as he stumbled forward and a nippy April wind swallowed his first breath of air. He turned with his arms raised to see where the gun was, and found Lucas wearing his P.I. shades, very much in control of the weapon.
Wilson could only think of one thing. He began to walk slowly, steadily to the west edge of the roof, hoping Lucas would think he was only shying away from the strong sunlight.
- - - -
“You know that House will settle this dispute pretty damn quickly, right?” said Chase.
“Yes, I do. And he’ll be siding with me,” interjected Taub.
Thirteen rolled her eyes, then turned her head to the doorway. “Looks like you won’t have to wait much longer, guys.”
House hauled open his door, leaning heavily on his cane this morning. He tossed his rucksack in the comfy chair and glanced at his bright-eyed, bushy-tailed team.
“Where’s Foreman?” he snarled.
“Had a meeting with his accountant. He told you last week. He probably thought he’d be here before you, anyway. You’re pretty early considering we don’t have a patient yet this week,” answered Taub.
“You’re not the only one who likes to impress his boss now and then,” House mugged. “Now if you want your brownie points today, you could bring me a cup of coffee out on the balcony before I start my day.”
He looked back at Taub with an expression that said, ‘Go...do...’ and went outside.
He’d woken up early with thigh pain and hadn’t been able to get back to sleep. The ibuprofen just wasn’t keeping up and he was sick of pretending that it would. A terrible sense of fear and dread was enveloping his waking hours and not even Wilson had picked up on it so far...
“Come away from the edge! This is a private discussion; we don’t need any company right now!”
“Alright, I’m moving. But calm down. You don’t have to wave that gun in my face. I’ll do what you want.”
House instantly looked to his left, where the balcony wall beyond the partition rose to meet the roof. The wind had carried the voices straight to his ear and he was sure it was Wilson declaring calmly that some lunatic held a gun in his face. He peered up, but the strong sunlight blocked out his view completely. That other voice? It was strained and had hissed out angrily, but he knew it.
“Yes, yes you will. But it’s House who really needs to do what I want. And the only way to get him to take me seriously, is for something unfortunate to happen to you.”
Shit,...Lucas! House thought, He’s gone over the edge!
“Here’s your brew, House.” Taub said from behind. House whirled on him, limping back inside.
“Call Cuddy. Tell her her boyfriend has flipped his gourd and is holding a gun on Wilson on the roof! Make sure she calls the cops, but that they come quietly. I don’t want any commando shit that’s going to get Wilson killed!”
Taub’s mouth was hanging wide, but he recovered his wits quickly as the rest of the team gathered around. “Where are you going?” he called after House.
“To try out my negotiating skills!” was the reply.
- - - -
House’s desired tactic was not a surprise. He chose the direct route. Flinging wide the door that opened onto the roof he stepped out, planted his cane before him and hollered, “Hey, Lucas!”
The next bit of choreography involved Lucas lunging for Wilson, grabbing him close about the chest, with the gun pressed to his temple. Next move, House. Outwardly maintaining his cripple-version of bravado, seeing Wilson frozen with fear in close proximity to a weapon that could end it all in one gun flash threatened to send House to his knees, a quaking mess. He started talking rapidly.
“Congratulations, Lucas! I see you’ve gotten yourself into a spectacular mess!”
“House,” Wilson pleaded shakily, knowing House’s proclivity for escalating situations before actually de-escalating them. He could feel Lucas trembling behind him and breathing heavily.
House locked eyes with Wilson for a brief second, but continued to berate the P.I.
“We all know you’re not known for your lightning wit, so I’ll help you out. Your beef is with me. Let Wilson go and we’ll talk!”
“NO!” Lucas screamed back, the gun bouncing against Wilson’s temple as he did. Wilson worried that Lucas seemed a lot more unglued since House had appeared.
“Why not?” House asked.
“Because it’s what you want, that’s why!” Lucas shot back. “You only wanted me around to dig up dirt on other people!”
House shrugged. “Isn’t that what you do for a living?”
“Cuddy only wants me around as a substitute for you!” he cried out, now sounding like a petulant child.
House could see tears glinting in the other man’s eyes and he didn’t like it. He could crack up after they got the gun away from him.
“Really? Maybe you should be talking to her about that. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’ve made a point of not messing with you two kids. Ask Wilson if you don’t believe me. He knows what it’s like to have me as a guiding influence in all his relationships. It’s hard to miss, really. I’m not known for my subtlety.”
“Hah!” Wilson let out a high-pitched laugh in spite of himself. Please tell me someone else is coming to my rescue, or I may be doomed, he thought.
House seemed to read Wilson’s mind at that moment, wondering himself what was taking the boys in blue so long. But there was only one door to this section of the roof and no possible way House could see to apprehend Lucas before he had a chance to shoot Wilson, if he was determined to carry out his implied threat. But if he needed Wilson as a shield, he needed him alive. He had no more time to contemplate strategies however, because in the distance a helicopter could be heard approaching.
Lucas, of course, heard it too and gripped Wilson tightly around the throat, nervously driving the muzzle of the gun into his head while his eyes darted about the skies. James could only grip onto the surprisingly robust arm of the shorter man, trying to get more air into his lungs and not pitch over backward at the same time.
While Lucas was distracted, House took half a dozen steps forward. Out of the corner of his eye he had seen two cops running, bent low on the adjacent roof of the east wing. The helicopter stayed high in the sky and swept over them in a wide arc, leaving swiftly.
Lucas was wide-eyed and frantic now, panting. “Stay back, House! I’ll kill him if I have to!”
“Oh, pul-lease, are you insane! If you don’t throw down that gun right here and now, you’re the one who’ll be taken out. There’s no way this is going to get any better for you now! You need help, Lucas. And Cuddy will make sure you get it, trust me.”
By now, Wilson was gasping and beginning to see dark spots in front of his eyes. “House,” he rasped, gritting his teeth.
“Steady, Wilson,” he murmured.
Suddenly Lucas roared out in frustration and pushed Wilson away. He raised his arms, pointing the gun at Wilson, who was trying to back away from him.
House could only think to hurl his cane at Lucas’s dominant arm, but before he could follow through, a shot rang out from behind him. With Lucas in the clear, one of the snipers got off a shot, hitting him high in the chest, dead center. His finger had found the trigger a moment before however, and the gun went off, sending Wilson spinning to the ground with a pained cry.
Everything that followed was a mad jumble to Wilson. Blue uniforms descended from every direction. An ashen-faced Cuddy walked slowly toward the body of Lucas Douglas, in complete disbelief. ER staff and gurneys appeared in the background.
A strong arm reached down and grasped his right arm, turning him gently.
“Wilson?”
“I’m okay,” he hissed, using House’s support to sit himself upright. He immediately cradled his left upper biceps, which was streaming blood. House urged him out of his jacket and tore open his shirt so he could inspect the wound.
“It’s not serious. Bullet went right through,” he stated.
“So this is what it feels like to get shot,” uttered Wilson quietly, panting to control his pain.
“Yeah, lots of fun, isn’t it?” House answered, cupping his chin and taking a good look at him.
Wilson looked past House and saw Lucas being covered with a dark blanket.
“Oh, God.”
House looked behind, then back at his friend. “I know. Hard to believe. How did we miss this?”
Wilson shook his head, stunned. “House?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t heard us up here. That could have been me over there.”
House smiled. “You’re the one, I assume, who had the instinct to move to my side of the building genius.”
“Yeah,” Wilson replied. “Which would have meant nothing if you hadn’t followed through.”
“You’re welcome.”
The ER docs pushed through and helped Wilson onto the gurney, beginning their own inspection of his injuries. Just before they began to roll him away, Wilson craned his neck, looking for House one more time.
“House?”
“What’s that?”
“I’m waiting for the day when being your best friend isn’t quite so...exhilarating.”
House chuckled. “Never gonna happen, best bud. Never gonna happen.”
~fin~