A Midwinter Nightmare Chapter 5 (of 8)
Sep. 14th, 2010 12:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
readingratAuthor's Note: Feral Attraction is the porn film House digs up in Private Lives, staring a young and maybe not quite so innocent Wilson.
Act 3, Scene 1
Quince: [...] and we will do it in action, as we will do it before the Duke.
Bottom: Peter Quince?
Quince: What sayest thou, Bully Bottom?
Bottom: There are things in this Comedy of Pyramus and Thisby, that will never please.
[A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act 3 Scene 1]
10 pm
“Is everyone at their posts?” Quincy asked his walkie-talkie. The question was redundant, for there was no security staff member who couldn’t be seen on one or other of the monitors in security headquarters. “Let’s get going, shall we? It’s 8 am in the morning and Senator Woodward is approaching the main entrance with her entourage.”
Quincy and Lucas were at security headquarters, checking via the monitors whether the senator’s movements were covered at all times. Rob, who was impersonating the senator since he wasn’t needed to observe the monitors during the run-throughs, entered the lobby. Piccolo and Leo strode forward to flank him.
“Slower, Rob, you’re a lady. They don’t stride like the giant in ‘Jack and the Beanstalk’,” Quincy instructed.
Lucas watched as he disappeared from the lens coverage of the lobby camera, counting the seconds until he reappeared in the clinic camera. “Three seconds. That’s too long, way too long. I’ll have to reposition the lobby camera. No problem, though, chief. What’s Piccolo doing?” Lucas grabbed Quincy’s walkie-talkie. “Piccolo, you don’t hold the door for the senator!”
“No?” Piccolo looked around randomly until he spotted the clinic camera. “But ... that’s what we do. We open the door for the people here, especially old people or people in wheelchairs, but also for ladies. They kinda expect it.”
“Not tomorrow! You look out for disturbances and shield the senator. You don’t have time for that kind of hanky-panky.”
“Then who’s going to hold the door for her?” Quincy enquired. “Someone has to do it.”
“There’ll be enough ambitious, well-mannered doctors in expensive suits running around up there just fighting to do it,” Lucas predicted.
The run-through dragged on, from the clinic to the auditorium where the senator was to give a speech, to the board room for a snack and small-talk with hospital big-wigs, an inspection of oncology, lunch, then paediatrics and radiology, and finally to the senator’s departure. Lucas took notes all the while, muttering about camera readjustments, the need for more security personnel, the madness of keeping the clinic open, the impossibility of securing a warren such as PPTH, et cetera, et cetera.
“Okay,” he finally said, “that’s it. Tell you what: I’ll go readjust the camera in the lobby and in paediatrics while you tell the men all this.” He thrust a sheaf of notes at Quincy. “Next run-through in, say, one hour.”
“Whazzat?”
“Just a few ideas on how to spot trouble without alarming the senator,” Lucas said nonchalantly. “It’s nothing complicated, just a few tips. Okay, maybe it’s a bit complicated, but it’s not exactly rocket science. Just common sense, really.”
Quincy harrumphed. Lucas, seeing that Quincy was distracted by his notes, moved over to the box with old security tapes, crouching down next to it. The tapes were labelled with place and date – if the tape he was looking for was in the box, it should be easy to find. He picked up the first three tapes: ‘Lobby: 03/10/10’, ‘Paediatrics: 03/09/10’, ‘Clinic: 02/25/10’. It would take him less than ten minutes to sift through this lot and find the cafeteria tape if it still existed.
A piece of paper jammed between two tapes caught his eye. He extracted it and read it with a sinking heart.
Borrowed ‘Cafeteria: 02/02/10’. An illegible signature and today’s date.
Damn! He’d bet a Benjamin on whose signature that was!
As far as Lucas could tell, neither House nor Wilson had apprised Lisa of the events in the cafeteria; if they had, he wouldn’t have denied anything explicitly. He would have played the incident down, pawning the tripping off as an accident. As for the rest ... that could pass off as two full-blooded men (and former rivals) staking out their territory. He’d have denied provoking House, saying that House in his jealousy must have misunderstood him. Whom would Lisa have believed: the boy-friend she wanted to trust or the manipulative jerk who had a reputation for bending the truth to suit his purpose?
He hadn’t reckoned with visual evidence, not this far down the road. What the hell had made House dig out the tape just moments before he could get his fingers on it? He had to get it back before that bastard showed it to Lisa. Lucas turned to Quincy, proffering House’s note.
“Are doctors allowed to borrow security videos?” he asked with a touch of incredulity in his voice.
“’Course not! Gotta get it back.” Quincy took the note and squinted at the signature. “What joker was that? Can you read the signature?”
“House.”
“Ah. Then we can forget it.”
“What?” Lucas choked. “I mean, he’s a doctor here, what’s special about him?”
“Everything’s special ‘bout him. I’m surprised he left a note.”
Lucas wasn’t. That scrap of paper was a declaration of war aimed at him.
“Anyways,” Quincy continued, “he isn’t held accountable for anything. Has the run of the hospital, comes and goes as he likes, does whatever he wants.” He moved closer to Lucas and said with an air of confidentiality, “He’s got something going with the boss.”
“Oh, really?” Emotions rushed through Lucas so fast that he couldn’t keep track of them. Surely Lisa wasn’t still ... she said she and House had never been ... did everyone at the hospital think that they were ...
“Yeah. She doesn’t let on, doesn’t encourage him in public, but everyone knows. They say she’s got a new boy-friend, but I bet that’s just a cover.”
Lucas felt an irrational desire to scream at the man, to shake him, to knock these lies, insinuations, allegations, innuendos, aspersions out of him. His hands were shaking with the effort of appearing calm, his nails were digging into the palms of his hands, beads of sweat were forming on his forehead. He had to get out of that room before he gave himself away.
“I’ll go and see to those cameras,” he muttered as he headed blindly towards the door.
Out in the corridor he leaned against the wall, a myriad of thoughts racing through his head. Get a grip, he told himself. First things first. He could confront Lisa later, making it clear to her that ... that what? That there were rumours at the hospital about her and House? She knew that, and she laughed at them. That she favoured House unduly? She’d tell him not to interfere in work issues, reminding him that years of friendship had forged a bond between House and her and that House’s issues with pain demanded a certain amount of forbearance.
He preferred not to envision what would happen if House showed Lisa the video tape of the ‘cafeteria incident’. The evidence had to be recaptured. Lucas made for the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time until he reached the fourth floor. It was dark in House’s office and in the conference room. Lucas tried the door – it was locked. He peered inside, willing himself not to lose hope. No, there were a whole lot of coats and scarves hanging in the conference room, the table was cluttered, therefore the team must be somewhere in the hospital. Chances were that House hadn’t returned to his condo since ‘borrowing’ the tape, hence it was probably somewhere in that office.
Lucas pulled out his cell phone. “Hey, Lise! ... Yeah, everything’s fine. We’ve just completed the first run-through and will start the second one soon. I should be done around midnight. ...Yeah, don’t wait for me. ... What I wanted to ask is can I have a general key? ... Yes, Quincy’s got one, but ...Listen Lisa, House is spreading rumours about you ... yes, I know that you don’t care, but ...” He listened to Lisa for a moment. “Okay, Lisa. I get it. But I’m pretty sure that he’s got something in his office that you can use to shut him up. Gotta be porn or something. ... What, you let him watch porn at work??? ...It’s got to be more than normal run-of-the-mill porn because he was sneaky about it. ... No, I didn’t say he was a paedophile ...Lisa? Damn!”
He glared at his cell phone in irritation, as though the phone was at fault for Lisa’s lack of cooperation. How besotted did one have to be to consider downloading porn at work normal, excusable, of little consequence? She’d just huffed, remarking that she’d have to get IT to close the loopholes in their firewall.
Next, Lucas considered the lock on the office door. He could undoubtedly break in, but the chances of being caught in the act by the returning team or other passing staff members were considerable. If Lisa found out about it after refusing to give him a key, she’d be more than displeased. It might be a better idea to talk Quincy out of his key.
Lucas wandered down to the gallery overlooking the lobby, mulling the matter of breaking into the office versus sweet-talking Quincy into entrusting his key to him over in his mind as he adjusted the camera focused on the main entrance. House was still in the hospital, as was Lisa. The longer he delayed the matter, the greater the likelihood that House showed Lisa the tape.
Below him Wilson entered the lobby, shaking snow off his coat. Lucas, looking down at him, had a sudden epiphany. Wilson’s office was adjacent to House’s; they shared a balcony, as Lucas knew from the time he’d spied on them to prank them. If he got into Wilson’s office, he’d have access to House’s balcony. The door from the office onto the balcony would be a lot easier to force open undetected than the door to the corridor.
“Hey, Wilson,” Lucas called down.
Wilson looked up, his expression moving from surprise through distaste to polite indifference. Lucas shrugged inwardly. He didn’t care what Wilson thought of him, since Wilson was just a pawn in the greater scheme of things. “Can we talk?”
He didn’t wait for Wilson’s reply but moved swiftly to the stairwell. Running up and down the stairs, apart from saving time, let him savour the unadulterated joy of doing something House couldn’t do. Wilson, being a polite dope, was waiting for him in the lobby as desired. Lucas favoured him with a winning smile.
“Look, Wilson, I know you’re pissed off about the pranking. It got a bit out of hand, I admit. Hey, I got carried away – I thought you’d join in the spirit of the game ...” He trailed off at the look on Wilson’s face. “Well, maybe not. I guess it isn’t so funny when you have to pay for a new flat-screen. Yeah, maybe not so funny after all. Anyway, House and me, we’re okay again, so I thought it would be sort of neat if you and I buried the hatchet, became friends ... well, maybe not friends exactly ...”
Wilson was staring at him as though he’d sprouted horns and a tail, so he cut it short, saying, “Shall we have a drink together? I haven’t got much time, but maybe you know a place close by?”
“Okay,” Wilson said with one of his eloquent shrugs.
Lucas let Wilson lead the way to the bar west of the hospital, chattering inconsequentially of this and that as they walked. The last thing he needed was Wilson picking a fight with him before he had a chance of carrying out his newest plan, so he gave him as little opportunity as he could to take umbrage or get a word in sideways. Wilson, looking slightly bemused, led him to the same table that Foreman and Thirteen had shared earlier that evening.
“What’ll you have?” Lucas asked Wilson.
“Beer.”
Lucas went over to the barman to get their orders, returning with two beers a moment later. He felt Wilson’s eyes boring into him the entire time, an indication that the man was not as gullible as he’d assumed. Well, he was House’s friend, and House didn’t suffer fools gladly. Still, he, Lucas, had the odd trick up his sleeve that a law-abiding citizen such as Wilson wasn’t privy to. He’d have that key off Wilson and be back at the hospital before Wilson could mouth ‘Hippocratic oath’.
Lucas had hardly sat down when Wilson’s cell phone jangled, indicating an incoming text message. Wilson pulled his phone out of his jacket to study the display, started slightly and said, “Sorry, this needs to be taken care of. Emergency with a patient. Excuse me. I’ll be back in a moment.” He moved swiftly to the exit, ostensibly to telephone in a quiet spot.
This, thought Lucas with a flush of victory, was better than anything he could have offered in the way of distraction. He smiled as he pulled something from the inside pocket of his coat and leaned over the drinks.
Wilson stared at the text message. “Keep an eye out for Lucas.” Was House a clairvoyant? It was more likely that House had seen them depart together. Still, Lucas in bff-mode freaked him more than a little. It would do no harm to check this out with House. He called House on speed dial.
“House, listen. I’m in a bar with Lucas. I think he’s up to something, but I can’t figure it out.”
“I take it that he isn’t in earshot.”
“No, of course not.” Wilson peered through the window at the subject of their conversation. “Hang on, what’s he doing? He’s slipping something into my beer!”
House snorted. “Great. Got him.” He was silent for a moment. “What’s he drinking?”
“Beer, like me.”
“Thought so. Swap the drinks.”
“How, oh great mastermind?”
“I’m sure the wood nymphs will teach you. If not, mention something about an interesting video tape that I’m insisting you watch with me the moment we get home.” With that House hung up.
Wilson ran his hand through his hair in frustration. Interesting video tape? If this meant that House had sent Lucas of all people a copy of Feral Attraction, then he’d murder House, delete his soaps, trash his journals, make iron burns on his favourite Rolling Stones t-shirt, substitute his shower gel with a flowery girls’ brand ... Then again, Cuddy would have told Lucas all about it anyway.
Swapping the drinks turned out to be easier than Wilson had imagined. He bumped against the table ‘by accident’ when he returned to sit down, spilling some of the beer on it in the process. While mopping up the spillage with napkins he casually dropped House’s line.
“That was House with a ‘patient emergency’.” Wilson sketched quotation marks in the air. “There’s some video he wants to watch with me, right now. The last time he said that it turned out to be a porn movie I’d unwittingly acted in at college. It was hugely embarrassing. Cuddy must’ve told you about the ensuing carnage here at the hospital – it’s going to take me months to live that down. House has probably made a sequel.”
The effect on Lucas was nothing short of electric. He was staring at Wilson open-mouthed, his mind visibly contorting over what Wilson had just dropped. For a short empathetic moment Wilson wondered what youthful indiscretion of Lucas’s had fallen into House’s hands, but the moment passed quickly without leaving much of a trace. There was, after all, the slight matter of the spiked drink that threatened to poison their relationship.
Hence Wilson continued ranting about House’s indiscretion in a mild vein: the foolishness of allowing him access to modern technology, his lack of natural inhibitions, his obliviousness to the demands of decency and friendship and so on, as he dabbed away pushing the beer glasses to and fro in a seemingly random manner.
“I’d better go and watch his latest find with him when we’ve finished our beers. There’s no sense in postponing the inevitable. Besides, I’d rather know what he unearthed this time before the entire staff get a copy.”
Lucas was completely focused on him as Wilson picked up Lucas’s beer and took a big gulp, leaving his own beer for Lucas. Lucas abstractedly picked it up and took a sip.
“I say,” he said hesitantly, “would it be okay if I came with you and watched it too? I mean, you’re really taking this with a sense of humour. I think that’s just great. Yeah, I’d be really pissed. Where are you going to watch it?” He couldn’t mask the eagerness in his voice from Wilson.
“Yes, sure, come along,” Wilson answered. “Whatever it is, it’ll be all over the hospital tomorrow.”
And the look on Lucas’s face was worth having to suffer his company the next fifteen minutes.
Fifteen minutes later Wilson called House. “House? He’s acting odd!”
“What did you expect when you drugged him?”
“I expected him to pass out or ... hang on, I didn’t drug him. He drugged himself,” Wilson corrected.
“Same difference. Describe the symptoms.”
“He’s passive. He’s sitting here doing nothing. He’s stopped talking! What do I do?”
“Enjoy the silence.”
“House, he could, I don’t know, seize or something. I don’t want to have to explain this to the police!”
“Call Cuddy.”
“She’ll crucify us! You won’t see the clinic from the outside for a month.”
“I wasn’t even there,” House pointed out. “Her boy-toy, ergo her problem. Get her, show her, don’t talk too much, don’t mention that he tried to slip you Rohypnol.”
“Rohypnol? How do you know it’s ... oh bother!” Wilson examined Lucas, then he rested his forehead on one hand.
“Obvious drug for a PI, obvious symptoms,” House explained. “Hey, Wilson, Cuddy’s boy-toy wants to rape you. I wonder what that means. Does it mean he likes masculinity – I always thought Cuddy was a transvestite – or is it your feminine streak that turns him on?”
Wilson punched the disconnect button. He sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering how and why he had got involved in whatever this was. House doubtless would not deign to explain. Wilson dialled once more.
“Cuddy, it’s Wilson. Yes, it’s urgent, otherwise I wouldn’t disturb you. It’s Lucas, he ... he’s in some sort of a funny state.” Wilson took Lucas’s elbow and tugged. To his surprise the other man rose without any resistance. “I’m bringing him to ER. Can you meet us there?”
Titania:
Come wait upon him, lead him to my bower. [...]
Tie up my love’s tongue, bring him silently.
[A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act 3 Scene 1]
Act 3, Scene 1
Quince: [...] and we will do it in action, as we will do it before the Duke.
Bottom: Peter Quince?
Quince: What sayest thou, Bully Bottom?
Bottom: There are things in this Comedy of Pyramus and Thisby, that will never please.
[A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act 3 Scene 1]
10 pm
“Is everyone at their posts?” Quincy asked his walkie-talkie. The question was redundant, for there was no security staff member who couldn’t be seen on one or other of the monitors in security headquarters. “Let’s get going, shall we? It’s 8 am in the morning and Senator Woodward is approaching the main entrance with her entourage.”
Quincy and Lucas were at security headquarters, checking via the monitors whether the senator’s movements were covered at all times. Rob, who was impersonating the senator since he wasn’t needed to observe the monitors during the run-throughs, entered the lobby. Piccolo and Leo strode forward to flank him.
“Slower, Rob, you’re a lady. They don’t stride like the giant in ‘Jack and the Beanstalk’,” Quincy instructed.
Lucas watched as he disappeared from the lens coverage of the lobby camera, counting the seconds until he reappeared in the clinic camera. “Three seconds. That’s too long, way too long. I’ll have to reposition the lobby camera. No problem, though, chief. What’s Piccolo doing?” Lucas grabbed Quincy’s walkie-talkie. “Piccolo, you don’t hold the door for the senator!”
“No?” Piccolo looked around randomly until he spotted the clinic camera. “But ... that’s what we do. We open the door for the people here, especially old people or people in wheelchairs, but also for ladies. They kinda expect it.”
“Not tomorrow! You look out for disturbances and shield the senator. You don’t have time for that kind of hanky-panky.”
“Then who’s going to hold the door for her?” Quincy enquired. “Someone has to do it.”
“There’ll be enough ambitious, well-mannered doctors in expensive suits running around up there just fighting to do it,” Lucas predicted.
The run-through dragged on, from the clinic to the auditorium where the senator was to give a speech, to the board room for a snack and small-talk with hospital big-wigs, an inspection of oncology, lunch, then paediatrics and radiology, and finally to the senator’s departure. Lucas took notes all the while, muttering about camera readjustments, the need for more security personnel, the madness of keeping the clinic open, the impossibility of securing a warren such as PPTH, et cetera, et cetera.
“Okay,” he finally said, “that’s it. Tell you what: I’ll go readjust the camera in the lobby and in paediatrics while you tell the men all this.” He thrust a sheaf of notes at Quincy. “Next run-through in, say, one hour.”
“Whazzat?”
“Just a few ideas on how to spot trouble without alarming the senator,” Lucas said nonchalantly. “It’s nothing complicated, just a few tips. Okay, maybe it’s a bit complicated, but it’s not exactly rocket science. Just common sense, really.”
Quincy harrumphed. Lucas, seeing that Quincy was distracted by his notes, moved over to the box with old security tapes, crouching down next to it. The tapes were labelled with place and date – if the tape he was looking for was in the box, it should be easy to find. He picked up the first three tapes: ‘Lobby: 03/10/10’, ‘Paediatrics: 03/09/10’, ‘Clinic: 02/25/10’. It would take him less than ten minutes to sift through this lot and find the cafeteria tape if it still existed.
A piece of paper jammed between two tapes caught his eye. He extracted it and read it with a sinking heart.
Borrowed ‘Cafeteria: 02/02/10’. An illegible signature and today’s date.
Damn! He’d bet a Benjamin on whose signature that was!
As far as Lucas could tell, neither House nor Wilson had apprised Lisa of the events in the cafeteria; if they had, he wouldn’t have denied anything explicitly. He would have played the incident down, pawning the tripping off as an accident. As for the rest ... that could pass off as two full-blooded men (and former rivals) staking out their territory. He’d have denied provoking House, saying that House in his jealousy must have misunderstood him. Whom would Lisa have believed: the boy-friend she wanted to trust or the manipulative jerk who had a reputation for bending the truth to suit his purpose?
He hadn’t reckoned with visual evidence, not this far down the road. What the hell had made House dig out the tape just moments before he could get his fingers on it? He had to get it back before that bastard showed it to Lisa. Lucas turned to Quincy, proffering House’s note.
“Are doctors allowed to borrow security videos?” he asked with a touch of incredulity in his voice.
“’Course not! Gotta get it back.” Quincy took the note and squinted at the signature. “What joker was that? Can you read the signature?”
“House.”
“Ah. Then we can forget it.”
“What?” Lucas choked. “I mean, he’s a doctor here, what’s special about him?”
“Everything’s special ‘bout him. I’m surprised he left a note.”
Lucas wasn’t. That scrap of paper was a declaration of war aimed at him.
“Anyways,” Quincy continued, “he isn’t held accountable for anything. Has the run of the hospital, comes and goes as he likes, does whatever he wants.” He moved closer to Lucas and said with an air of confidentiality, “He’s got something going with the boss.”
“Oh, really?” Emotions rushed through Lucas so fast that he couldn’t keep track of them. Surely Lisa wasn’t still ... she said she and House had never been ... did everyone at the hospital think that they were ...
“Yeah. She doesn’t let on, doesn’t encourage him in public, but everyone knows. They say she’s got a new boy-friend, but I bet that’s just a cover.”
Lucas felt an irrational desire to scream at the man, to shake him, to knock these lies, insinuations, allegations, innuendos, aspersions out of him. His hands were shaking with the effort of appearing calm, his nails were digging into the palms of his hands, beads of sweat were forming on his forehead. He had to get out of that room before he gave himself away.
“I’ll go and see to those cameras,” he muttered as he headed blindly towards the door.
Out in the corridor he leaned against the wall, a myriad of thoughts racing through his head. Get a grip, he told himself. First things first. He could confront Lisa later, making it clear to her that ... that what? That there were rumours at the hospital about her and House? She knew that, and she laughed at them. That she favoured House unduly? She’d tell him not to interfere in work issues, reminding him that years of friendship had forged a bond between House and her and that House’s issues with pain demanded a certain amount of forbearance.
He preferred not to envision what would happen if House showed Lisa the video tape of the ‘cafeteria incident’. The evidence had to be recaptured. Lucas made for the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time until he reached the fourth floor. It was dark in House’s office and in the conference room. Lucas tried the door – it was locked. He peered inside, willing himself not to lose hope. No, there were a whole lot of coats and scarves hanging in the conference room, the table was cluttered, therefore the team must be somewhere in the hospital. Chances were that House hadn’t returned to his condo since ‘borrowing’ the tape, hence it was probably somewhere in that office.
Lucas pulled out his cell phone. “Hey, Lise! ... Yeah, everything’s fine. We’ve just completed the first run-through and will start the second one soon. I should be done around midnight. ...Yeah, don’t wait for me. ... What I wanted to ask is can I have a general key? ... Yes, Quincy’s got one, but ...Listen Lisa, House is spreading rumours about you ... yes, I know that you don’t care, but ...” He listened to Lisa for a moment. “Okay, Lisa. I get it. But I’m pretty sure that he’s got something in his office that you can use to shut him up. Gotta be porn or something. ... What, you let him watch porn at work??? ...It’s got to be more than normal run-of-the-mill porn because he was sneaky about it. ... No, I didn’t say he was a paedophile ...Lisa? Damn!”
He glared at his cell phone in irritation, as though the phone was at fault for Lisa’s lack of cooperation. How besotted did one have to be to consider downloading porn at work normal, excusable, of little consequence? She’d just huffed, remarking that she’d have to get IT to close the loopholes in their firewall.
Next, Lucas considered the lock on the office door. He could undoubtedly break in, but the chances of being caught in the act by the returning team or other passing staff members were considerable. If Lisa found out about it after refusing to give him a key, she’d be more than displeased. It might be a better idea to talk Quincy out of his key.
Lucas wandered down to the gallery overlooking the lobby, mulling the matter of breaking into the office versus sweet-talking Quincy into entrusting his key to him over in his mind as he adjusted the camera focused on the main entrance. House was still in the hospital, as was Lisa. The longer he delayed the matter, the greater the likelihood that House showed Lisa the tape.
Below him Wilson entered the lobby, shaking snow off his coat. Lucas, looking down at him, had a sudden epiphany. Wilson’s office was adjacent to House’s; they shared a balcony, as Lucas knew from the time he’d spied on them to prank them. If he got into Wilson’s office, he’d have access to House’s balcony. The door from the office onto the balcony would be a lot easier to force open undetected than the door to the corridor.
“Hey, Wilson,” Lucas called down.
Wilson looked up, his expression moving from surprise through distaste to polite indifference. Lucas shrugged inwardly. He didn’t care what Wilson thought of him, since Wilson was just a pawn in the greater scheme of things. “Can we talk?”
He didn’t wait for Wilson’s reply but moved swiftly to the stairwell. Running up and down the stairs, apart from saving time, let him savour the unadulterated joy of doing something House couldn’t do. Wilson, being a polite dope, was waiting for him in the lobby as desired. Lucas favoured him with a winning smile.
“Look, Wilson, I know you’re pissed off about the pranking. It got a bit out of hand, I admit. Hey, I got carried away – I thought you’d join in the spirit of the game ...” He trailed off at the look on Wilson’s face. “Well, maybe not. I guess it isn’t so funny when you have to pay for a new flat-screen. Yeah, maybe not so funny after all. Anyway, House and me, we’re okay again, so I thought it would be sort of neat if you and I buried the hatchet, became friends ... well, maybe not friends exactly ...”
Wilson was staring at him as though he’d sprouted horns and a tail, so he cut it short, saying, “Shall we have a drink together? I haven’t got much time, but maybe you know a place close by?”
“Okay,” Wilson said with one of his eloquent shrugs.
Lucas let Wilson lead the way to the bar west of the hospital, chattering inconsequentially of this and that as they walked. The last thing he needed was Wilson picking a fight with him before he had a chance of carrying out his newest plan, so he gave him as little opportunity as he could to take umbrage or get a word in sideways. Wilson, looking slightly bemused, led him to the same table that Foreman and Thirteen had shared earlier that evening.
“What’ll you have?” Lucas asked Wilson.
“Beer.”
Lucas went over to the barman to get their orders, returning with two beers a moment later. He felt Wilson’s eyes boring into him the entire time, an indication that the man was not as gullible as he’d assumed. Well, he was House’s friend, and House didn’t suffer fools gladly. Still, he, Lucas, had the odd trick up his sleeve that a law-abiding citizen such as Wilson wasn’t privy to. He’d have that key off Wilson and be back at the hospital before Wilson could mouth ‘Hippocratic oath’.
Lucas had hardly sat down when Wilson’s cell phone jangled, indicating an incoming text message. Wilson pulled his phone out of his jacket to study the display, started slightly and said, “Sorry, this needs to be taken care of. Emergency with a patient. Excuse me. I’ll be back in a moment.” He moved swiftly to the exit, ostensibly to telephone in a quiet spot.
This, thought Lucas with a flush of victory, was better than anything he could have offered in the way of distraction. He smiled as he pulled something from the inside pocket of his coat and leaned over the drinks.
Wilson stared at the text message. “Keep an eye out for Lucas.” Was House a clairvoyant? It was more likely that House had seen them depart together. Still, Lucas in bff-mode freaked him more than a little. It would do no harm to check this out with House. He called House on speed dial.
“House, listen. I’m in a bar with Lucas. I think he’s up to something, but I can’t figure it out.”
“I take it that he isn’t in earshot.”
“No, of course not.” Wilson peered through the window at the subject of their conversation. “Hang on, what’s he doing? He’s slipping something into my beer!”
House snorted. “Great. Got him.” He was silent for a moment. “What’s he drinking?”
“Beer, like me.”
“Thought so. Swap the drinks.”
“How, oh great mastermind?”
“I’m sure the wood nymphs will teach you. If not, mention something about an interesting video tape that I’m insisting you watch with me the moment we get home.” With that House hung up.
Wilson ran his hand through his hair in frustration. Interesting video tape? If this meant that House had sent Lucas of all people a copy of Feral Attraction, then he’d murder House, delete his soaps, trash his journals, make iron burns on his favourite Rolling Stones t-shirt, substitute his shower gel with a flowery girls’ brand ... Then again, Cuddy would have told Lucas all about it anyway.
Swapping the drinks turned out to be easier than Wilson had imagined. He bumped against the table ‘by accident’ when he returned to sit down, spilling some of the beer on it in the process. While mopping up the spillage with napkins he casually dropped House’s line.
“That was House with a ‘patient emergency’.” Wilson sketched quotation marks in the air. “There’s some video he wants to watch with me, right now. The last time he said that it turned out to be a porn movie I’d unwittingly acted in at college. It was hugely embarrassing. Cuddy must’ve told you about the ensuing carnage here at the hospital – it’s going to take me months to live that down. House has probably made a sequel.”
The effect on Lucas was nothing short of electric. He was staring at Wilson open-mouthed, his mind visibly contorting over what Wilson had just dropped. For a short empathetic moment Wilson wondered what youthful indiscretion of Lucas’s had fallen into House’s hands, but the moment passed quickly without leaving much of a trace. There was, after all, the slight matter of the spiked drink that threatened to poison their relationship.
Hence Wilson continued ranting about House’s indiscretion in a mild vein: the foolishness of allowing him access to modern technology, his lack of natural inhibitions, his obliviousness to the demands of decency and friendship and so on, as he dabbed away pushing the beer glasses to and fro in a seemingly random manner.
“I’d better go and watch his latest find with him when we’ve finished our beers. There’s no sense in postponing the inevitable. Besides, I’d rather know what he unearthed this time before the entire staff get a copy.”
Lucas was completely focused on him as Wilson picked up Lucas’s beer and took a big gulp, leaving his own beer for Lucas. Lucas abstractedly picked it up and took a sip.
“I say,” he said hesitantly, “would it be okay if I came with you and watched it too? I mean, you’re really taking this with a sense of humour. I think that’s just great. Yeah, I’d be really pissed. Where are you going to watch it?” He couldn’t mask the eagerness in his voice from Wilson.
“Yes, sure, come along,” Wilson answered. “Whatever it is, it’ll be all over the hospital tomorrow.”
And the look on Lucas’s face was worth having to suffer his company the next fifteen minutes.
Fifteen minutes later Wilson called House. “House? He’s acting odd!”
“What did you expect when you drugged him?”
“I expected him to pass out or ... hang on, I didn’t drug him. He drugged himself,” Wilson corrected.
“Same difference. Describe the symptoms.”
“He’s passive. He’s sitting here doing nothing. He’s stopped talking! What do I do?”
“Enjoy the silence.”
“House, he could, I don’t know, seize or something. I don’t want to have to explain this to the police!”
“Call Cuddy.”
“She’ll crucify us! You won’t see the clinic from the outside for a month.”
“I wasn’t even there,” House pointed out. “Her boy-toy, ergo her problem. Get her, show her, don’t talk too much, don’t mention that he tried to slip you Rohypnol.”
“Rohypnol? How do you know it’s ... oh bother!” Wilson examined Lucas, then he rested his forehead on one hand.
“Obvious drug for a PI, obvious symptoms,” House explained. “Hey, Wilson, Cuddy’s boy-toy wants to rape you. I wonder what that means. Does it mean he likes masculinity – I always thought Cuddy was a transvestite – or is it your feminine streak that turns him on?”
Wilson punched the disconnect button. He sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering how and why he had got involved in whatever this was. House doubtless would not deign to explain. Wilson dialled once more.
“Cuddy, it’s Wilson. Yes, it’s urgent, otherwise I wouldn’t disturb you. It’s Lucas, he ... he’s in some sort of a funny state.” Wilson took Lucas’s elbow and tugged. To his surprise the other man rose without any resistance. “I’m bringing him to ER. Can you meet us there?”
Titania:
Come wait upon him, lead him to my bower. [...]
Tie up my love’s tongue, bring him silently.
[A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act 3 Scene 1]
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Date: 2010-09-18 04:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-18 08:06 pm (UTC)