Gentle Knock - Chapter 80 by zeppomarx (house fanfic)

Title: A Gentle Knock at the Door, Chapter 80
Author: zeppomarx
Characters: House, Wilson, Cuddy, Foreman, Chase, and others.
Warnings and So On: Definitely safe. H/W friendship.
Summary: House is a physical and emotional mess, having been wrongly imprisoned and tortured and all sorts of nasty stuff. It's about what happens next, and how House deals with it. A sequel to Priority's Exigencies, which is a sequel to DIY Sheep's The Contract, which has spawned an incredible number of offshoots.
Timeline: Set nearly a year after the beginning of Exigencies.
Earlier chapters: Chapters 1-16 here. Chapters 18-43 here. Chapters 44-61 here. Chapters 62-67 here. Chapters 68-79 here.

COMMENTS: If you'll keep commenting, I'll keep responding. I promise. Really.

Oh, Yeah, the Disclaimer: Still don't own the characters (except the ones I created). I appreciate them, though, except when they wander around in my brain and won't let me sleep.

SUMMARY: What happens when House is at work... and how the kids respond.

TEASER: Just Another Day...

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A Gentle Knock at the Door
Chapter 80

Now that he was back to work on a more regular basis, it was obvious to his team that he was, in many ways, the same old House—sarcastic, devious, manipulative, brilliant.

But Chase and Foreman, who had known him the longest, could see that he had been softened by his experiences. His mind was still sharp, his tongue still wicked, his diagnostic skills still unparalleled. However, some of the sheer, cussed meanness they had seen in him before the trouble started seemed to have fallen away, as if all of his rough edges had gotten knocked off. And, of course, the fact that everyone knew he really wasn’t that self-centered bastard meant that some of his games had less bite than before.

Occasionally, now, he let his guard down a little when he was alone with one or the other of them—never when both were present. Occasionally, they saw in his face a fleeting lost look, as if he were overwhelmed by everything. Occasionally, when he didn’t know they were looking, he smiled a small approving smile at them. And occasionally, they saw things on that face they simply didn’t want to see ever, anywhere, on anyone’s face.

For Foreman and Chase, the realization of what he had gone through to save their lives gave them both a new appreciation for House. It also gave them perspective on their past interactions with him—when he drove them crazy with his Machiavellian maneuvers. Although they never, ever talked about it, both of them wondered why they’d hadn’t been able to see it before, why they hadn’t realized just what the man was made of.

Foreman, in particular, was reflective, although it was not in his nature to look inward. He had fought so hard to avoid being like House, but during the past two years it had ever so slowly dawned on him that he’d never really had a clue about who House actually was. Yes, House had behaved like an ass… but that didn’t necessarily make him an ass. Maybe the games, the pushiness, the manipulations, the irresponsible behavior all had a point. Maybe working for House had forced Foreman to see things in a different way. Maybe his horizons had been dramatically expanded. Maybe the point was that nothing mattered except the patient, and finding a cure, if possible, for each case that came their way. Maybe he’d become a better doctor—a much better doctor—because he’d been around this man.

Maybe being like House wasn’t a bad thing.

Chase, who had always had a certain grudging admiration for House, even at his most difficult, now found himself in unabashed awe of his boss. There was no way in hell House would ever let him express that admiration… any more than he would let Chase show sympathy for House’s physical limitations. So, as always, Chase kept his feelings to himself.

But on the rare occasions when House smiled, even though the smiles seldom went all the way up to his eyes, he felt glad. Glad that he was here in this place at this time, working for this man. Glad to see House begin to carve out a new life, to regain a fraction of what had been lost. And mostly, glad that House had survived, even if it cost him so much just to get through the day. But sometimes, at moments like these, when House smiled, Chase had to turn his head and fight the overwhelming urge to cry.

Devi, quite simply, liked House. She’d liked him—and feared him—from the moment she’d met him. His laudable behavior under unimaginable circumstances, his brilliant medical mind, his insistence on staying focused on solving the patient’s problem, his wittiness, his cleverness, his ability to look beyond the obvious, the veiled pain in his eyes—all of it made him a compelling person to be around. She’d given up trying to imagine what life before must have been like. All she knew was what she saw. And what she saw, she admired and liked. He was a puzzle she knew she’d never figure out. But she intended to keep on trying.

Her wedding to Frank Durante was coming up the end of December. Both Chase and Foreman had told her not to expect House to acknowledge it. The House they knew would never have been concerned with their personal lives… unless it was to butt in where he wasn’t wanted or make crude jokes about highly intimate things. So she was startled when, a few days before the wedding, a small package arrived at her home. The return address was a post office box number she didn’t recognize, but she saw the name “House” writ small next to the address.

Later that evening, she and Frank opened the box. Inside they found three things, numbered 1, 2 and 3:

1.    a small envelope, addressed to both of them
2.    a small, peculiarly wrapped gift
3.    a card with House’s shaky handwriting on the envelope, addressed to Devi alone

They started with the small envelope. When they opened it and pulled out a check for $10,000, their jaws dropped open. There was no note, but on the memo line, in House’s scrawl, were the words, “For the future.”

Then the gift. It was wrapped, badly, as if House had attempted to do it himself, in the color comics section from the previous Sunday’s paper. Not surprisingly, somehow, the gift was a puzzle—a custom-made jigsaw puzzle, carved out of sterling silver, the pieces loosely wrapped in tissue paper. Curious, they immediately began fitting it together. When the puzzle was done, they found two short sentences—just nine words—engraved across the center of the puzzle.

The first line said:

“Do the right thing.”

The second line said:

“This isn’t simply a test.”

Finally, flabbergasted, they opened the envelope containing Devi’s card. They were greeted by a photo of the hind end of a donkey. Inside, they found this short message.

“If you tell anyone about this, you’re fired. Oh, and I’ll cancel payment on the check. —GH”

* * * *

One day in January, in the middle of the afternoon, the phone in House’s office rang. Chase, Foreman and Devi, who were next door researching unusual presentations of prostate cancer, heard him pick it up.

It was obvious from the way he answered that he’d read the caller ID, and from the content of the conversation that he was talking to Wilson.

“Hi,” he said. “What’s up?”

A slight pause.

“Sure, I could do that. Do you want me to see if I can find anything in the literature about it? … Uh-huh. … Okay. That makes sense. … Have you thought about actual changes in the way the brain functions? … Oh, good. Yes, that’s good. … Okay, I’ll bring it home with me later. See you in a couple of hours.”

As he finished up the call, Wilson walked into the conference room, startling all three of them.

“What’s up? I heard you’ve got a possible… What? Why are you all looking at me?”

Foreman stuttered. “W-we thought he was on the phone with you.”

“Me? No, why?”

A little embarrassed at having been caught eavesdropping, they mumbled something about prostate cancer, and let it lie.

Two weeks later, in the late morning, as they were talking things through at the whiteboard, House’s phone rang next door. Devi was closest to House’s office.

“Raja, phone,” said House.

Devi hopped up and ran into House’s office.

“Dr. House’s office. Oh, hi, Linda. What? Sure.”

She set the phone down on his desk.

“Dr. House, it’s Linda. She says she needs to talk to you about something. It’s important.”

Grunting, House hauled himself up on his crutches and made his way into the office.

“Hey, Linda. What is it? What?”

His voice suddenly became tight, and Devi, who hadn’t yet made it back into the conference room, turned around to see a look of concern cross his features. Her eyes darted to Chase and Foreman in the other room. They sat motionless, staring in the direction of House’s office, listening intently to his end of the conversation.

“Okay, tell me exactly what happened. How did it start?”

There was a pause.

“Where did you find her? Any blood?”

She saw House take a deep breath and forcibly calm himself down.

“Uh-huh… No, no, it’s all right. You handled it fine. See what you can do to make her more comfortable until I can get there. Give her another dose if it doesn’t subside right away. I shouldn’t be more than about 20 minutes. Pull the shades, and keep her cool and quiet. Linda—stay with her, won’t you? She shouldn’t be alone. Let her know I’m on my way.”

After he hung up, he called into the other room.

“Gotta go. Call me at home when you come up with something. We’ll finish this over the phone in an hour or so.”

Then he turned abruptly and left.

A few weeks later, when the phone rang in House’s office, they heard him answer on speakerphone. The voice on the other end was soft and melodious.

“Hi,” said the voice.

“Hi… What’s up?”

Not that they were intentionally trying to listen in, or anything. No, of course not. But the conversation was so… well… odd… they couldn’t help themselves.

Besides, it made House laugh.

“Linda and I are trying to dust and we can’t reach the top shelf. Any chance you’ve got a giraffe on you anywhere? We could really use a giraffe right about now.”

That’s when it happened. House laughed.

He picked up the receiver and disconnected the speaker, so the eavesdroppers in the next room could hear only his end of things.

“A giraffe? No, I can’t say that I’ve seen any giraffes loose around here…”

Chuckling, he rotated his chair and looked out the window, as if actually expecting to see a giraffe stride through the courtyard.

“Nope, no giraffes. Would a gazelle do? ... Oh, not tall enough? ... Yes, I see… You could always get it a 37-foot scarf… yes, and little booties… How about a tail-warmer? … Yes, that would work, too… Well, if I run across any, I’ll send them your way… What? … No, I am not. I don’t care what you say—I am not an idiot… Hmmm? … I don’t know. Not beets. I hate pink teeth. Something else… Yeah, okay. Bye.”

When he hung up the phone, his team saw that he was smiling. Really smiling. All the way up to his eyes.

And then, about a month after that, late in the afternoon, he placed a call, leaning back in his desk chair, his feet propped up on the ottoman next to the desk. His voice was extremely quiet, and they strained to hear—although, if asked, they would have denied it.

“Hi. It’s me… That was pretty obvious, and you’re a showoff… So how’d you do? … A scale? Which one? … Not surprised. I always found E-flat easier, too. Fingers fit on the keys better… How did it go? … Me, too… What about the article? … That bad, huh? Why’d they even send it to you if it’s hopeless? … Can you do anything with it?”

Suddenly, his voice got louder and the tone of it was strained. Three heads snapped toward his office in time to see him abruptly sit up and lean forward, his whole body tensing up.

“Hey! Are you there…? Answer me!”

There was a long pause, during which he didn’t move. Then, suddenly, he exhaled a long breath.

“What happened?! Are you all right?”

His voice grew quiet again, and he leaned back once more.

“What? … Oh, sure… Understandable with all the exercise you’ve been doing. Let’s try a different approach—yes, another different approach—see if we can get you on some better meds for it, okay? Can’t have you dropping the phone like that. You’ll give me a heart attack… Yeah, I know. I’ll do some more research and see if I can’t find something different, maybe something experimental, something that won’t mess up your head too much… Yes, that’s good…”

His voice got even quieter, so quiet his team could barely make out what he was saying, and the tone of it was soft and tender.

“See you when I get home. I shouldn’t be too much longer. Keep the home fires burning, and leave a light in the window for your wandering boy.”

NEXT: Enough...

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