HOUSE CALL - 18thCenturyGirl - House M.D. [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

INT. WILSON'S OFFICE - DAY
The office is dimly lit, with stacks of paperwork cluttering the desk. WILSON, looking noticeably pale and drawn, sits hunched over his work, occasionally rubbing his temples. His breathing is slightly labored, and a small pile of used tissues sits in a wastebasket nearby. Wilson sighs and puts down his pen, massaging his forehead. He takes a sip from a bottle of water, then resumes working. Suddenly, there's a loud thud from the balcony door. Wilson looks up, alarmed, as the door swings open and HOUSE steps in, brushing imaginary dust off his jacket.

HOUSE
You know, if you’re going to lock the door, you could at least leave a key under the mat. Or get rid of the wall. Your call.

WILSON
(Sighing) It means I didn’t want to see anyone. I'm busy.

Wilson tries to suppress a cough but fails, turning his head away to muffle the sound. House’s eyes narrow, instantly picking up on the signs of illness.
HOUSE

Yeah, and that cough isn't suspicious at all. Let me guess, is this a new method for treating patients? Infect them with whatever plague you’re carrying so they forget about their original problem?

WILSON
It's just a cold. And I have a lot of paperwork to catch up on before clinic duty.
House saunters over, eyeing Wilson closely. He plops down on the chair opposite Wilson's desk, kicking his feet up on the cluttered surface.

HOUSE
A cold, huh? Last I checked, colds don’t come with a fever that makes you look like a boiled lobster.

WILSON
(Defensive) It’s not that bad. I’m planning on wearing a mask during clinic duty so I don’t get anyone sick.

HOUSE
Or sicker. Because let’s face it, half your patients are already halfway to the morgue.

Wilson winces, whether from House’s remark or a sharp pain in his head, it's hard to tell. He tries to focus on his paperwork, but his hand trembles slightly.

HOUSE
(Mock concerned) Sure you don’t need me to call in a sub for you? Maybe Foreman can play doctor while you nap under your desk.

WILSON
(Stubborn) I’m fine, House. Just tired. And busy.

House leans forward.

HOUSE
You’re not fooling anyone, Wilson. Especially not me. Go home. Take a sick day. The hospital won’t implode without your saintly presence for one afternoon.

Wilson hesitates, clearly exhausted but unwilling to admit it.

WILSON
I’ll be fine. Really. Just let me finish this…

He breaks off, succumbing to another coughing fit. House watches, his expression a mix of irritation and genuine concern.

HOUSE
(Softening) You’re an idiot. But you’re my idiot. And if you keel over, who’s going to listen to my witty repartee?

Wilson manages a weak smile, his resolve wavering.

WILSON
Alright, alright. I’ll finish this one last thing and then… I’ll go home. Happy?

HOUSE
Ecstatic. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go diagnose someone with something way more interesting than your pathetic little cold.

House gets up, heading for the balcony door.

HOUSE
(Over his shoulder) And don’t worry, I’ll lock up behind me. Wouldn’t want any more crazy people barging in.

Wilson watches him go, shaking his head slightly but looking somewhat relieved. He turns back to his paperwork, but his eyes keep drifting shut.
END SCENE

INT. WILSON'S OFFICE - LATER
Wilson wakes with a start, his head jerking up from the desk where he fell asleep. Papers are stuck to his cheek, and he wipes them off groggily. He glances at the clock and his eyes widen in panic. He is about to be late for his shift at the clinic.

WILSON
Oh crap!

He scrambles to put on his white coat, his movements clumsy and uncoordinated. He grabs his mask, pulling it over his face, and stumbles out of his office, still groggy and disoriented.

INT. HALLWAY - DAY
Wilson hurries down the hallway, his breathing labored and his cough persistent. As he rounds a corner, he nearly runs into House, who is leaning against the wall, waiting for him.

HOUSE
Ah, Sleeping Beauty awakens and is on his way… not home I presume? Late for your own shift. Cuddy will be thrilled.

WILSON
(Muffled by mask) I told you, I’m fine. I just… fell asleep for a minute.

HOUSE
And you look so refreshed. Honestly, if you were any paler, you’d be a ghost.

Wilson pushes past House, heading toward the elevator. House, ever persistent, follows him.

INT. ELEVATOR - DAY
Wilson steps into the elevator, House right behind him. The doors close, and the elevator starts its descent. Wilson squints against the harsh fluorescent lights, his headache intensifying.

HOUSE
Does Cuddy know you’re playing martyr today? Or did you conveniently forget to tell her you're about to cough up a lung?

WILSON
(Coughing) Cuddy needs all the doctors she can get in the clinic. Thanks to you and your antics, we’re always short-staffed.

House smirks, watching as Wilson pulls down his mask to pop a cough drop into his mouth.

HOUSE
Ah yes, the magical powers of the cough drop. That’ll cure you right up.

WILSON
(Irritated) It's just a cold, House.

HOUSE
You keep saying that, but you look like death warmed over. Seriously, Wilson, just go home.

WILSON
And give you the last word? Not a chance.

The elevator dings and the doors slide open. Wilson steps out, trying to steady himself as he heads down the hall toward the clinic.

HOUSE
(Following) You’re being ridiculous. You’re not helping anyone by pushing yourself this hard.

WILSON
And you’re not helping anyone by harassing me. Some of us actually have to work for a living.

HOUSE
You mean some of us have to work ourselves into an early grave.

They reach the doors of the clinic. Wilson turns to face House, his eyes tired but resolute.

WILSON
Look, House. I appreciate the concern—well, as close as you get to concern—but I’ve got a job to do. And if I don’t do it, no one else will.

HOUSE
Heroic. Stupid, but heroic.

WILSON
Goodbye, House.

Wilson pushes through the clinic doors, leaving House standing in the hallway. House watches him go, a mix of frustration and worry on his face.

HOUSE
(Muttering to himself) Idiot.

He takes a vicodin, then turns and walks away, the clinic doors closing behind him as Wilson steps up to the reception desk, ready to face another exhausting shift.

INT. CLINIC ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON
Wilson is sitting in the small examination room, visibly exhausted. His eyes are bloodshot, and he’s barely holding it together. His mask is on, but it does little to hide the feverish flush of his face. Across from him sits a young woman, SUSAN, who is animatedly recounting her symptoms.

SUSAN
…and then I started sneezing, like, twenty times in a row! I thought maybe I was allergic to my new perfume, but I changed it and I’m still sneezing. And my nose is running all the time. Do you think it could be something serious? Like, am I dying?

Wilson nods weakly, trying to keep up.

WILSON
Susan, it sounds like you might have—

SUSAN
(Interrupting) And there’s this tickle in my throat. It’s really annoying. I read online that it could be throat cancer. Or maybe I have some rare disease. I get these headaches sometimes, too, and I think my vision might be blurry. Can you check that?

Wilson takes a deep breath, steadying himself as a wave of dizziness hits him. He tries to speak, but Susan continues without pause.

SUSAN
Oh, and did I mention the rash? It’s tiny, but I read that tiny rashes can be the worst! Should I get a biopsy?

Wilson feels his patience wearing thin. He fights the urge to roll his eyes, his head pounding.

WILSON
Susan, I—

SUSAN
(Cutting in again) I mean, what if it’s lupus? I know it’s rare, but you can never be too sure. My aunt had lupus, and she always said it starts with a sneeze. Or was it her cat that had lupus? Anyway—

Wilson stands up abruptly, gripping the edge of the exam table to steady himself. His vision swims, but he forces himself to focus.

WILSON
(Sharply) Susan, you have a cold. It’s nothing more than that. Try NyQuil at night and DayQuil during the day. You’ll feel better soon.

SUSAN
(Surprised) That’s it? Are you sure?

Wilson’s patience snaps.

WILSON
(With uncharacteristic sharpness) Yes, that’s it. But if you’d prefer, I can arrange a lumbar puncture to rule out meningitis, or maybe a full-body MRI to check for every possible ailment under the sun. But do you know what would really help you sleep at night? NyQuil!

Susan stammers, taken aback by Wilson’s tone.

SUSAN
I-I didn’t mean—

WILSON
Fantastic. NyQuil and DayQuil. They’re about $5.79 each at the drug store. Do you need me to write that down?

SUSAN
No, I-

Without waiting for her to finish her response, Wilson turns and leaves the room.

INT. CLINIC HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS
Wilson stumbles slightly, catching himself on the wall. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself as he heads down the hallway. Behind him, Susan sits in stunned silence, still processing what just happened. Wilson straightens up, sighs, and coughs lightly as he turns in his last patient file at the nurse’s desk. He rubs his eyes, his headache throbbing worse than ever. He does his best to mask his illness with a tired smile that we can see in his eyes.

NURSE
Long day, Dr. Wilson?

WILSON
(Forcing a chuckle) You could say that. I’m not sure how many different ways I can diagnose a cold. I’ll never stop being amazed at how many ways patients can come up with to describe them.

The nurse laughs, and Wilson’s laugh turns into a cough. He clears his throat and catches himself on the desk, a wave of dizziness washing over him. The nurse notices but doesn’t seem overly concerned; Wilson is hiding his symptoms well enough.

NURSE
You sure you’re feeling okay?

WILSON
(Smiling weakly)The mask too much of a giveaway?

NURSE
Just a little bit.

WILSON
A bit of a cold but I’m fine, I’d rather not take my chances (gesturing to the mask) but I’m sure I just need a good night’s sleep.

From behind them, the earlier patient, Susan, exits the exam room, talking on her phone.

SUSAN
(On phone) …so how much DayQuil do I need to cure a cold? Dr. Wilson said—

Wilson sighs and looks back at the nurse, his expression weary but amused.

WILSON
A good night’s rest and maybe some NyQuil. Have a nice day.

He taps the desk lightly and heads for the exit.

NURSE
Take care, Dr. Wilson.

Wilson gives a small wave without turning around, pushing through the clinic doors and heading into the hallway. His steps are unsteady, but his resolve remains firm as he makes his way towards the elevators, eager to finally get some rest.
END SCENE

INT. HOSPITAL BATHROOM - EARLY EVENING
Wilson stands at the sink, splashing water on his face. He leans heavily on the counter, staring at his pale, haggard reflection in the mirror. His breathing is labored, and a violent coughing fit suddenly grips him. He grips the edge of the sink, trying to steady himself.

HOUSE
(O.S.) Nice cough. Thinking of taking it on tour?

Wilson jumps, startled. House is standing behind him, arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

WILSON
(Catching his breath) Some people don’t like being snuck up on, House.

HOUSE
And some people don’t like getting their lungs vacuumed out by tuberculosis.

Wilson straightens, turning to face House with a weary but defiant look.

WILSON
Again. It’s just a cold. I’m fine.

HOUSE
A cold with a side of fever? Let me check.

House approaches and reaches out to feel Wilson’s forehead, but Wilson bats his hand away.

WILSON
Would you just give it a rest and leave me alone?

HOUSE
(Sighing dramatically) Alright, you leave me no choice, Jimmy. I slept with your ex-wife.

Wilson’s eyes widen in disbelief.

WILSON
What?!

HOUSE
Bonnie. The second one. The other one sounded like too much of a harpy for my taste.

Wilson opens his mouth to retort, but he stammers, searching for words. House seizes the opportunity, quickly thrusting a thermometer into Wilson’s mouth and closing it.

HOUSE
Just keep it in there.

Wilson glares at him, reluctantly complying. He mumbles something that sounds like “you’re a jerk” through clenched teeth. House leans against the counter, watching Wilson with a mix of concern and amusem*nt.

HOUSE
You know, even for you, this is impressively stubborn.

The thermometer beeps. House pulls it out and reads the display.

HOUSE
101.5. Either you’re a frozen hummingbird, or you’re running a nice little fever there.

Wilson sighs, conceding slightly.

WILSON
I told you, I’m a little under the weather. But the day’s almost over. I’ll go home soon, get some rest.

He starts to leave, but House calls after him.

HOUSE
Take the day off tomorrow.

Wilson laughs, which turns into a coughing fit. He stops at the door, turning back to House with a faint smile.

WILSON
What, and miss your harassment? Couldn’t possibly.

HOUSE
(Snarkily and sarcastically) You could be dying, Wilson.

WILSON

(Calling back through the door) See you later, House.

House watches as Wilson exits, the door swinging shut behind him. He stands there for a moment, the concern on his face deepening.
FADE OUT.

INT. WILSON'S OFFICE - LATE EVENING
The office is nearly dark, illuminated only by the dim desk lamp. Wilson, slumped over his desk, struggles to stay awake. His cough is worse, and his chills make him shiver uncontrollably. His headache pounds, making it difficult to focus on the chart in front of him. He’s dizzy, his vision blurring as he tries to finish his last bit of paperwork.

HOUSE
(Barging in) Hey, look at that, the front door was open this time. Someone must’ve left it unlocked just for me. No spare key necessary!

Wilson groans, raising a hand to signal House to keep it down, while rubbing his eyes with the other.

WILSON
(Weakly) House, please… not now.

HOUSE
Wow, you look worse than a med student after finals.

House limps forward, studying Wilson’s pale and haggard face. Wilson starts to speak but stops as House drops something on his desk, causing him to jump. It’s a candy bar.

WILSON
Did you steal my card again?

HOUSE
I’m capable of being nice, you know.

WILSON
Well either something horrible’s happened or I must really be dying for you to go out of your way to be nice.

HOUSE
Or maybe I just felt like shocking you. Mission accomplished.

Wilson’s cough interrupts him. House hands him a glass of water, watching closely as Wilson drinks. He cups his friend’s forehead and Wilson weakly shrugs him off.

HOUSE
You’re burning up. You need to go home.

WILSON
(Finally conceding) Yeah, you’re right. I’m just… finishing this up.

HOUSE
Finishing up? What, trying to figure out how to spell "NyQuil"?

WILSON
Funny. I’ve had more patients today with colds than I can count. And each one had a new theory about what was wrong with them. The internet is making everyone a hypochondriac.

HOUSE
People were idiots before the internet. The internet just makes their idiocy more accessible. Some people are actually sick though. (Pointed look at Wilson) Or so I hear.

Wilson closes the file on his desk and stands, but he’s unsteady on his feet. House’s concern is barely hidden beneath his usual sarcasm.

HOUSE
Easy there, tough guy. You look like you’re about to pass out.

WILSON
I just need a good night’s rest. That’s all.

He grabs his coat and scarf, putting them on with shaky hands. House watches him closely, ready to catch him if he falls. They walk out into the hallway together, Wilson moving slowly and unsteadily.

HOUSE
You need more than a good night’s rest, you need more than NyQuil, you need a priest is what you need.

WILSON
My gosh. You telling me to commune with a higher power? Even if you have chosen the completely wrong religion.

HOUSE
Trying to broaden my horizons. You know, admitting you’re human and not a saint wouldn’t be the end of the world.

WILSON
I’ll keep that in mind.

HOUSE
And by the way, you owe me for that candy bar. Do you know how hard it is to shoplift with a limp?

WILSON
(Chuckling weakly) Put it on my tab.

HOUSE
Your tab's getting pretty steep. Look out, at this rate, I’ll be eating steak dinners for a month.

WILSON
I’ll throw in a bottle of NyQuil. How’s that?

HOUSE
Now we’re talking. Just don’t go collapsing in the pharmacy aisle. Why don’t you just let me prescribe you some antibiotics?

WILSON
What so I can breed my own race of superbugs? It’s a cold House, I’m fine.

He’s undercut slightly but a few violent coughs. They head down the hall, House staying close by, his usual demeanor hiding the concern he feels for his friend. As they exit the building, House keeps an eye on Wilson, ready to step in if needed.

HOUSE
If you keel over on the way to the car, I’m not carrying you.

WILSON
(Chuckling, then coughing) I’ll manage. See you tomorrow.

HOUSE
Yeah, yeah, I’d better not. Go home and actually rest for once.

Wilson gives a small wave and heads towards his car, moving slowly but determinedly. House watches him go, the concern in his eyes belying his usual sarcastic facade.

HOUSE
(Calling out) And don’t forget, you’re on NyQuil duty for the next cold outbreak.

WILSON
(Calling back) Wouldn’t miss it.

House watches as Wilson gets into his car, still looking concerned but hiding it behind a smirk.
FADE OUT.

INT. WILSON'S OFFICE - MORNING
The mid-morning light filters weakly through the blinds, casting a dull glow over the room. Wilson sits at his desk, looking far worse than the day before. He looks like he hasn’t slept a wink. His skin is pale, his eyes bloodshot and heavy-lidded. Even indoors he's wrapped in his coat, shivering with chills. His cough is persistent, wracking his body every few minutes. He attempts to focus on the paperwork in front of him, but his hands are shaky and his vision keeps blurring. A half-empty bottle of cough syrup and a pack of cough drops sit beside him, evidence of a rough night.
There’s a soft knock on the door before it swings open, revealing House. He limps in, eyeing Wilson critically.

HOUSE
My God. You look terrible.

WILSON
(Hoarsely) Good morning to you too.

HOUSE
Good morning? Looks more like a scene from a zombie movie. You should be at home, not here infecting the rest of us.

WILSON
(Weakly) I’ve got patients. Besides, I can handle it.

House moves closer, scrutinizing Wilson’s face.

HOUSE
Handle it? You can barely handle breathing. How high is the fever now?

WILSON
I… didn’t check. But I’m fine. Just need to get through the day.

HOUSE
(Reaching out to feel Wilson's forehead) Let me guess, you’re still burning up.

Wilson tries to swat House’s hand away but is too slow. House feels his forehead, his expression darkening.

HOUSE
You’re not fine, Wilson. You’re a walking fever dream.

WILSON
(Coughing violently) I just need to… finish up a few things.

HOUSE
Again with the finishing up? You look like you're about to pass out on that paperwork. Is home really that bad?

This remark earns him a glare.

WILSON
Home is fine. Patients need me. Cuddy needs all the help she can get.

HOUSE
What Cuddy needs is doctors who aren’t one step away from being admitted themselves.

Wilson tries to focus on his work, but the words on the paper swim before his eyes. He rubs his temples, the headache now a constant throb.

WILSON
I can’t just leave. I’ve got too much to do.

HOUSE
What you need to do is rest.

WILSON
(Sighing) Give me an hour. I’ll go home as soon as I finish these next few charts.

HOUSE
An hour of what? Dying a little faster? You’re being an idiot, Wilson. This isn't a hero movie; there's no dramatic last-minute save.

Wilson opens his mouth to argue but is interrupted by another violent coughing fit. House watches him, his concern deepening.

HOUSE
Seriously, go home before you collapse on a patient. Or worse, me.

WILSON
(Sighing) Alright, alright. One hour.

HOUSE
You’re really pushing it and logic says you’re gonna make yourself worse.

House leaves, shaking his head in exasperation. Wilson watches him go, then puts his head in his hands, massaging his forehead before trying to go back to work. He glances at the clock, his resolve wavering as his body protests.
END SCENE

INT. CUDDY'S OFFICE - LATE MORNING
Cuddy sits at her desk, tapping her pen impatiently. House is leaning against the door frame, twirling his cane.

CUDDY
He should have been here by now.

HOUSE
I told you to make the page urgent. Not a run-of-the-mill “I need to talk to you” kind of message.

CUDDY
It was urgent, House. Just not in your melodramatic style.

HOUSE
Which is why he’s probably taking his sweet time.

He pours one of his pills into his hand and puts the bottle back into his pocket.

HOUSE
Wilson’s got a martyr complex, and you gave him an excuse to use it.

CUDDY
Because you never exploit anything for dramatic effect, right?

HOUSE
Me? I’m all about subtlety and grace.

Cuddy rolls her eyes, and just then, Wilson enters. He looks awful: pale, sweaty, and shivering but he has made the effort to put on his white lab coat. He gives House an annoyed look as he crosses the threshold.

WILSON
I was paged?

CUDDY
Wilson, sit down. You shouldn’t be here.

Wilson looks at House, clearly annoyed.

WILSON
You told her?

CUDDY
Like I wouldn’t notice on my own.

HOUSE
You’re about as subtle as a train wreck.

CUDDY
Let’s take stock. How high is your fever?

As she speaks she’s rummaging around in her desk drawer and emerges with a thermometer.

WILSON
(Grumbling) Last check, it was 101.5.

CUDDY
How’s the cough?

Wilson demonstrates with a deep, wracking coughing fit. Cuddy looks more concerned, while House raises an eyebrow.

HOUSE
Sounds like a tuberculosis ward in here.

CUDDY
Open up.

She takes Wilson’s temperature. It reads 102.

CUDDY
102. You’re going home, and that’s an order.

WILSON
(Weakly protesting) I’m fine. Just a few more charts to finish—

CUDDY
If you argue, I’ll send House with you.

HOUSE
Yeah, that would be torture for both of us. I’ll bring my harmonica and sing you lullabies.

Wilson sighs in defeat.

CUDDY
Do you want me to call Julie?

Wilson, if possible, goes a shade paler.

WILSON
(Mumbling) No, she’s out of town. I’ll take myself home.

CUDDY
Are you sure you’re okay to drive?

Wilson nods but is interrupted by another violent coughing fit. Cuddy hands him a glass of water, which he takes gratefully.

WILSON
I’ll be fine. Just need to get my things.

Wilson struggles to his feet, unsteady. Cuddy watches him with concern.

CUDDY
Don’t come back until 24 hours after the fever breaks. Understood?

WILSON
Understood.

Wilson exits, still coughing. Cuddy and House watch him go, concern etched on both their faces.

CUDDY
I’m worried about him. Especially if Julie’s out of town. He won’t have anyone to look after him.

HOUSE
Wilson’s a big boy now. He doesn’t need a babysitter.

CUDDY
Really? Because he looks like he needs one.

House’s eyes soften for a moment before he covers it with a sarcastic remark.

HOUSE
If he’s still alive by the end of the day, I’ll send him a fruit basket.

Cuddy sits down and starts doing paperwork.

CUDDY
If you want to be a friend and be helpful, you’ll take over Wilson’s clinic hours for the week.

HOUSE
Oh, great. Trading one form of torture for another. You do know I’m allergic to clinic duty, right?

CUDDY
Look, if you’re not too busy with your antics, I need you to cover for him. And if you refuse, I’ll find other ways to make your life miserable.

HOUSE
Why didn’t you just lead with that? It is a violation of my 8th amendment rights, you know?

CUDDY
Out!

House turns to leave, grumbling.

HOUSE
Clinic duty. Now that’s just barbaric.

As soon as he’s gone, Cuddy puts her pen down, worry written all over her face. She takes a deep breath and looks at the door, lost in thought.
FADE OUT.

INT. CLINIC - LATE AFTERNOON
House exits an exam room, a satisfied smirk on his face. He approaches the nurse's station, turning in his file with a flourish.

HOUSE
I’m signing out. Make sure to save the rest of these thrilling cases for someone equally qualified.

The nurse rolls her eyes as Cuddy appears, arms crossed.

CUDDY
Leaving an hour early, House?

HOUSE
My best friend has tuberculosis. You should cut me some slack.

CUDDY
Speaking of which, I’ll let you off early if you go check on Wilson. I tried calling to see if he needed anything, and he didn’t pick up.

HOUSE
He’s probably sleeping, which is exactly what he should be doing. But fine, if you insist. I’ll play Florence Nightingale for the day.

CUDDY
I’m serious, House. I’m worried about him. He looked terrible this morning, and if he’s not answering—

HOUSE
(Softening slightly) I’ll check on him. I’m going to prescribe him some antibiotics because NyQuil isn’t going to cut it.

Cuddy starts to respond when an angry patient bursts out of the exam room House just left.

ANGRY PATIENT
You can’t just accuse me of having an STD and then walk away!

HOUSE
Well, technically, I can. But it’s much more satisfying when Dr. Cuddy’s here to witness the drama. Have a nice night.

ANGRY PATIENT
I demand an apology! How dare you insinuate such a thing!

HOUSE
(Feigning innocence) Me? Insinuate? I’m more of a straight shooter. I said it outright.

CUDDY
(Sighing) House!

HOUSE
(Turning back)I need to check on my favorite TB patient, but I’m sure the situation is in control in your more than capable hands.

CUDDY
Don’t you dare go leaving this on me!

HOUSE
(Sighing)Fine.

House turns back to the angry patient.

HOUSE
Fine. You’re symptoms are consistent with a sexually transmitted disease. … It’s chlamydia. If that’s any comfort to you.

ANGRY PATIENT
It is not!

HOUSE
Well, I tried.

ANGRY PATIENT
I’m married! I’ve been faithful!

HOUSE
Well, then I suggest you have a conversation with your wife. Oh, and get a good lawyer.

ANGRY PATIENT
My wife’s having an affaire?

HOUSE
She play tennis?

ANGRY PATIENT
Yes, how did you-?

HOUSE
It’s always the tennis coach. I’m sure she just stayed over at his house and… finger painted all night. Very easy cross contamination you know.

CUDDY
House, get out of here. I’ll take care of this.

HOUSE
Knew I could count on you! You’re a real pal.

House limps off, leaving Cuddy to deal with the disgruntled patient. She rolls her eyes and turns to the patient, trying to placate them.

CUDDY
I’m sorry about that. How can I help you?

The scene ends with Cuddy mid-sentence, calming the patient.
END SCENE

INT. WILSON'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
House stands outside Wilson’s front door. He’s balancing a grocery bag and cane in one hand and knocking persistently with the other. He frowns as there's no answer, knocking louder.

HOUSE
Wilson! Open up, or I’m breaking in!

Silence.

HOUSE
You know, some people consider it rude to leave a cripple standing outside when they’ve so graciously come to offer them groceries!

There’s still no reply and after a tense pause, he drops the bag and lifts up the welcome mat. There is a spare key.

HOUSE
Hello, my pretty.

He unlocks the door.

INT. WILSON'S APARTMENT - CONTINUOUS
House steps inside, scanning the dimly lit living room. All the blinds are drawn, plunging the room into an eerie darkness. He calls out, his voice echoing slightly.

HOUSE
Wilson?

Silence. He calls again.

HOUSE
(Louder) Wilson? Wanna beer?

A violent coughing fit erupts from the couch. House quickly sets down the bag he's carrying and hobbles over to the source of the noise.
On the couch, Wilson looks terrible: shivering under layers of blankets, wheezing, and coughing uncontrollably. His face is pale and slick with sweat.

HOUSE
Damn, Wilson.

House feels Wilson’s forehead, frowning deeply. Wilson’s eyes flicker open, struggling to focus.

WILSON
(Weakly) House? What are you doing here?

HOUSE
Saving your sorry ass, apparently.

WILSON
How’d… you get in?

HOUSE
Here’s a tip. If you don’t want unexpected visitors, stop leaving the spare under the welcome mat. Honestly, Wilson, that’s the first place anyone looks. I didn’t really have to pick my brain for that one.

WILSON
I thought you… wanted me to keep the key under the mat.

HOUSE
Yeah to your office, genius. Although it did make my entrance ten times less painful than picking the lock or breaking the door down.

He hobbles away to grab his stethoscope and returns. He pulls back the blankets, and Wilson weakly protests.

WILSON
No… cold.

HOUSE
Shut up and breathe, you idiot. I’m gonna listen to your lungs.

WILSON
(Weakly) I’m fine…

HOUSE
Yeah, and I’m Mary Poppins which means I’m the practically perfect one around here. Hold still.

House listens to Wilson’s lungs, his frown deepening as he hears the labored, congested breaths. Wilson’s breath comes in shallow gasps, each one a struggle.

HOUSE
(Sarcastically) Well, it sounds like a jazz band in there. Why aren’t you in bed? Is it for the TV? Because I don’t think you’re in any state to enjoy a good rerun of The L Word.
Wilson is wracked by another violent coughing fit. House quickly pulls him to a seated position, rubbing his back to help him breathe.

HOUSE
Deep breathes. There’s no prize for passing out, you know.

Wilson slumps against him, exhausted and barely able to keep his eyes open.

HOUSE
(Cont'd) I should take you to the hospital.

WILSON
(Weakly) No… I'm fine. Just tired. I want to rest. Please.

House sighs, reluctantly agreeing.

HOUSE
Fine, but only if you do what I say. Starting with taking these antibiotics.

Wilson weakly nods, his body trembling from chills. House props him up on pillows and retrieves the antibiotics from the bag.

HOUSE
(Cont'd) Told you NyQuil wasn’t gonna cut it. Here. Down the hatch.

He hands Wilson the antibiotics and a glass of water. Wilson’s hands shake as he takes the pills, nearly dropping them. He finally manages to swallow them, each movement slow and deliberate.

WILSON
Thanks, House.

HOUSE
Don’t thank me yet. This is just the beginning. You do what I say, or it’s back to the hospital. You get worse, back to the hospital.

WILSON
(Weakly) Got it.

House watches as Wilson’s eyes droop, his breath still labored and raspy. He moves to adjust the pillows, ensuring Wilson is as comfortable as possible. He seems to suddenly realize that he might be accused of caring and makes a sarcastic comment.

HOUSE
And try not to die. It’d be really inconvenient to find a new oncologist best bud.

Wilson sees right through him and manages a weak smile before another coughing fit takes over. House stays close. He glances around.

HOUSE
So, where do you keep the cash in this place? I charge by the hour.

WILSON
Sorry…

HOUSE
Yes, you not having my wage ready and waiting is a major inconvenience for me.

WILSON
To… worry you. Cuddy… send you?

HOUSE
I was gonna come by regardless. Just stop talking and try to rest, okay? You sure you don’t want me to call Julie?

WILSON
She hates you.

HOUSE
Yeah, but I’m sure somewhere in her cold, icy heart, she cares about you. Something convinced her to marry you right? And something tells me it wasn’t the AMAZING sex you two were having.

Wilson mutters something that sounds like a protest but burrows deeper into the pillow, coughing slightly but not having a full fit.

HOUSE
Take it you don’t want a beer then?

But Wilson’s eyes have finally closed, his body sagging into the pillows as he drifts into a restless sleep. House watches him for a moment, his expression uncharacteristically soft, before turning to the kitchen. He fills a glass with water and places it on the table beside the couch. The grabs the TV remote and settles into the nearby chair. He turns the volume as low as it will go with a glance at Wilson who has stilled. He pops a pill into his mouth as he turns back to the screen.
FADE OUT.

INT. WILSON'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
It’s not clear how long has passed and Wilson is tossing fitfully on the couch. House stands stiffly and hobbles over to the couch, watching Wilson's labored breathing. He then makes his way into the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets for a dish towel, and a bowl. He fills the bowl with cold water, soaking the dish towel, and returns to the couch. Wilson’s eyes blink open and he looks at his friend questioningly.

HOUSE
Alright, let's see how you’re doing. Open up.

House carefully slips the thermometer under Wilson’s tongue. While waiting, he places the wet towel on Wilson’s forehead, who shivers at the touch. The thermometer beeps, and House checks it.

HOUSE
103 degrees? That's not a fever; that’s the herald of the coming end times. You need to go to the hospital.

WILSON
I’m… fine…

Wilson rolls over to his side, another fit of coughing wracking his body. House, his concern masked by his usual sarcasm, rubs Wilson’s back to help him breathe.

HOUSE
Sure, if by "fine," you mean "one step away from spontaneous combustion." Have you thrown up?

WILSON
(Weakly) No… just… tired…

House watches Wilson struggle to catch his breath, his shivering intensifying. He pulls up one of the blankets, then reconsiders and lowers it back down. Wilson whimpers in protest.

HOUSE
We need to get your fever down.

House dabs Wilson’s forehead with the cool cloth, noticing the pain etched on his friend’s face.

HOUSE
Still have that headache?

WILSON
(Groaning) Yeah…

House drapes the cloth over Wilson’s eyes, providing some relief from the pain. He stands up, ready to fetch some ice packs.

HOUSE
I’m going to grab some ice packs. Don’t go anywhere.

Suddenly, Wilson’s hand shoots out, grabbing the leg of House's jeans. House is startled by the intensity in Wilson’s feverish eyes.

WILSON
House… don’t leave me…

HOUSE
Hey, calm down. I’m just getting some ice packs from the fridge.

WILSON
Don’t…

HOUSE
Wilson, I’ll be right there. I’m not leaving, okay?

WILSON
Promise?

HOUSE
Promise.

Wilson releases his grip, and House hobbles to the kitchen, glancing back to see Wilson mumbling incoherently. He quickly returns with the ice packs and starts positioning them around Wilson, who cries out at the cold.

WILSON
It's… cold…

HOUSE
Yeah, it’s supposed to be. We need to get your fever down.

House places the ice packs behind Wilson's neck and under his arms, grimacing at his friend's discomfort.

WILSON
Am I late… for clinic?

House realizes Wilson is disoriented and worriedly brushes back his hair.

HOUSE
No, don’t worry. I’ve got your clinic hours covered.

WILSON
Did you make Cameron do it? Is Cuddy mad?

HOUSE
I did it myself. Don’t go getting the idea that I care, Cuddy was gonna eat my head if I didn’t. Don’t worry she’s not mad. You just focus on getting better.

Wilson, too exhausted to argue, nods weakly. His eyelids flutter before he finally drifts off. House watches, ensuring he’s comfortable.
House takes a seat in the opposite chair, keeping a vigilant eye on his sick and shivering friend. He picks up his cane from the floor, fiddling with the handle, looking more pensive and nervous than usual.

HOUSE
(Softly) It’s okay.
He settles into the chair, his eyes never leaving Wilson as he keeps vigil through the night, worry etched across his face.
FADE OUT

INT. WILSON'S APARTMENT - LATER THAT NIGHT
House wakes up with a start. He must have dozed off in the chair. He checks his watch – it's been a couple of hours. He looks over at Wilson, who’s still shivering and wheezing softly in his sleep.

HOUSE
(Speaking to the unconscious Wilson) Alright, let’s see if this fever’s gone down at all.

House gets up, carefully removing the ice packs and feeling Wilson’s forehead again. It’s still burning hot. He fetches the thermometer again, slipping it under Wilson’s tongue. Wilson stirs slightly but doesn’t wake.
The thermometer beeps, and House checks it.

HOUSE
103.5. Terrific. And the end time arrives.

Wilson groans, his eyes fluttering open.

WILSON
House?

HOUSE
Yeah, it’s me. You’re still burning up. In case you haven’t figured that out for yourself. You should really-really-

WILSON
No… no hospital. Just… tired.

HOUSE
Wilson, this isn’t just a cold. Your fever’s gone up. You’re getting worse.

Wilson tries to push himself up but collapses back into the pillows, another coughing fit taking over. House helps him sit up, patting his back.

HOUSE
Toughing it out isn’t gonna make you a better doctor. Just let me take you in.

WILSON
(Gasping) No… please. Just… stay.

HOUSE
I don’t know how much longer you’re going to be able to-

WILSON
Either listen to me, or get out of my house! I’m staying here!

House watches him for a moment, then sighs.

HOUSE
Fine, for now. But you do what I say and if you hit 104 I’m taking you in. No arguments.

Wilson nods weakly. House gets up and heads to the kitchen, rummaging through the medicine cabinet. He finds a bottle of acetaminophen and brings it back to the couch.

HOUSE
Are you sure you even went to medical school? You haven’t got ANYTHING stronger?

WILSON
Stuff too strong… makes me nauseous. Not all of us… want to be vicodin junkies, you know.

HOUSE
Yeah, yeah, you’re just a pillar of moral virtue which is probably why I’m the one here taking care of you and not your loving wife. Here. We’ll work with what we’ve got.
He helps Wilson take the pills, then gets a fresh cloth from the bowl and places it on Wilson’s forehead.

WILSON
We had a fight… Julie and I.

HOUSE
You don’t say.

WILSON
She’s… at her mother’s.

HOUSE
Sounds awesome.

WILSON
How do I always end up choosing so poorly?

HOUSE
Do you wanna wait to have the philosophical discussion of your terrible taste in women until your lungs are not about to implode?
Wilson moans, then closes his eyes again. House sits back in the chair, keeping a close watch on him.

HOUSE
I’m not cut out for all this caregiving crap.

WILSON
(Slurring slightly) You can… go ‘f you want.

HOUSE
Tempting but I’m a firm believer that no one dies alone, Wilson.

WILSON
‘S okay. ‘M used to it.

HOUSE
You’ve been married three times. You trying to tell me that in all those times no one’s ever… I don’t know, sat with you, given a crap?

WILSON
Mmmm.

HOUSE
…I’m sorry… I’ll stay.

But Wilson’s already dozing off again. House leans back, still fiddling with his cane, his expression a mix of concern and frustration.
END SCENE

INT. WILSON'S APARTMENT - EARLY MORNING
Wilson stirs, eyes fluttering open. He groans and shifts, pushing himself up to a sitting position. He looks around the dimly lit room, still groggy and clearly unwell. His gaze falls on House, asleep in the chair nearby, cane propped against the armrest.
Wilson turns his head to the other side and jumps, startled to see a woman sitting there. Her presence is unexpected, and his confusion is evident. He starts coughing violently, clutching his chest.

WILSON
(Between coughs) Sophia? What… what are you doing here?

SOPHIA
I’m here for my consultation, Dr. Wilson.

Wilson frowns, rubbing his eyes. He’s not fully sure if he’s awake or dreaming.

WILSON
I thought… I thought you…

SOPHIA
You thought I what?

WILSON
You were… a few months ago…

He starts coughing again, more violently this time, his body wracked with spasms.

SOPHIA
Have you given up on me, Doctor?

WILSON
(Struggling to speak) No, of course not! I never give up on my patients.

SOPHIA
Then why didn't you make the consultation?

WILSON
I… I don't remember scheduling it. I’ve been sick. I’m sorry if I missed it. I can send Dr. Stein to look at you.

SOPHIA
Are you sure about that?

WILSON
Yes, I’m so sorry. I just thought that…

SOPHIA
You thought I died?

Wilson stammers, shaking his head. The room feels like it's spinning, and his panic rises. He starts coughing again, desperately trying to catch his breath.

WILSON
No, no, of course not. You can’t be dead. You’re right here.

SOPHIA
But you called time of death. You gave up on me, didn’t you?

Wilson's breath quickens, and he starts to panic more visibly.

WILSON
No… no, I didn’t. I didn’t give up on you.

Sophia shakes her head sadly, and blood begins to trickle from her mouth. Wilson reaches out, horrified.

WILSON
Oh God! Oh God no!

SOPHIA
Why did you give up on me?

Wilson is shaking his head frantically now, his protests growing louder. His coughing fit intensifies, leaving him gasping for air.

WILSON
I didn’t! I didn’t give up on you!

Suddenly, House's voice calls out from off-camera.

HOUSE
(O.S.) Wilson!

Wilson continues reaching for Sophia, but she seems to be slipping away. House's voice becomes more insistent.

HOUSE
(O.S.) Wilson, wake up!

The scene shifts sharply to House shaking Wilson awake. Wilson’s eyes snap open, still filled with panic and confusion. He starts coughing violently, clutching his chest.

HOUSE
Wilson, what the hell was that?

Wilson looks around wildly, then starts babbling incoherently.

WILSON
I never gave up on her… I never…

Suddenly, Wilson gags, and House swiftly grabs a trash bin, thrusting it in front of him just in time. Wilson vomits into the bin, his body wracked with convulsions. House holds the bin steady, his concern deepening.

HOUSE
Alright. Get it all up. Just breathe.

Wilson finishes and collapses back against the couch, gasping for air. House sets the bin aside, wiping sweat from Wilson’s forehead with a cloth. Wilson coughs again, weakly this time, his body trembling.

HOUSE
What was that about?

WILSON
(Weakly) Sophia… she was here… she- she-

HOUSE
Sophia… Arnold? She’s the one who went a few months ago, right? I mean, I know you get a lot of those. It was just a nightmare. You’re delirious.

WILSON
No. No, she was here.

HOUSE
(Softly) No she wasn’t. It was a nightmare. That’s it.

Wilson blinks, trying to process House’s words. He shivers, pulling the blankets tighter around him. Another bout of coughing leaves him breathless and exhausted.

WILSON
Felt so real…

HOUSE
Fevers do that. They mess with your head.

House grabs the thermometer again, checking Wilson’s temperature.

HOUSE
Still high. Great. You need to stay hydrated and take your meds.

Wilson nods weakly, his eyes closing again. He starts coughing once more, struggling to breathe.

WILSON
No hospital.

HOUSE
Not unless you hit 104. That was the deal remember. Don’t worry, you’re still pulling in a healthy 103. At least it’s down a little…

WILSON
Don't leave…

HOUSE
I'm not going anywhere. Just try to sleep.

House watches as Wilson drifts off again, his breathing still labored. House shifts off his knees to sit on the floor, keeping a vigilant eye on his friend, the worry etched deeper into his features. He turns around and sits with his back against the couch. Wilson whimpers as he sleeps and House turns and brushes his hair gently off his forehead. He rewets and replaces the cloth before tossing his head back against the armrest of the couch.
FADE OUT

INT. WILSON'S APARTMENT - MORNING
Early morning light filters in between the blinds of Wilson’s apartment. House stirs from where his head has fallen against the armrest, groggy but alert. He looks up at Wilson, who is still curled up on the couch under a heap of blankets. House gets up and places a hand on his forehead, frowning at the heat still radiating from him.

Wilson slowly wakes, blinking blearily up at House.

WILSON
(Hoarsely)Have you been here all night?

HOUSE
Well, someone has to make sure you live long enough to buy me lunch.

Wilson chuckles dryly and weakly, but it quickly turns into a violent coughing fit. He tries to sit up, gesturing that he’s going to throw up. House swiftly grabs the trash bin, holding it steady as Wilson retches into it. House supports him, rubbing his back gently.

HOUSE
You know, your aim is getting better.

Wilson glares at him, but it lacks any real heat. He continues to cough as House fetches a glass of water and a washcloth.

HOUSE
Here, rinse and spit.

Wilson complies, washing out his mouth and then slumping back against the couch. House checks his temperature again.

HOUSE
102.5. Not great, but better than last night. Looks like the antibiotics are working. Who’da thunk?

Wilson coughs violently again, clutching his chest. House grabs his stethoscope, listening to Wilson’s lungs.

HOUSE
Hooray! Your lungs still sound like a couple of angry cats in a sack.

WILSON
(Weakly)Feel like it too.

HOUSE
Well, at least you’re finally admitting how bad you feel. Only took you, what, a few days of being half-dead?

Wilson starts coughing again, his whole body shaking. House reaches into his bag and pulls out a bottle of prescription cough medicine.

HOUSE
This has a muscle relaxant, codeine, the good stuff.

WILSON
That stuff makes me sick, you know that.

HOUSE
You’re already sick. It’s this or the hospital. I should’ve just given it to you last night, but then I’d have to fight you over it.

Wilson reluctantly takes the medicine, grimacing as he swallows. House helps him lie back down, adjusting the blankets around him.

WILSON
You late for work?

HOUSE
You’re off for the day so, so am I.

WILSON
(Suspiciously)You’re lying.

HOUSE
I’m not lying, just preemptively informing you.

House pulls out his phone and dials Cuddy’s number.

HOUSE
(On phone)Hey, it’s me. Wilson’s not coming in today. Yeah, he’s still pretty bad I really don’t think I should leave him. No, I don’t care if there’s a pandemic of paper cuts. Byyyyye!

We can hear Cuddy trying to speak on the other end of the phone but House hangs up before she can finish, tucking the phone back into his pocket.

WILSON
Using me to get out of clinic duty?

HOUSE
You really are the gift that just keeps on giving.

WILSON
She mad?

HOUSE
Mad? Nah, she’s practically knitting you a get-well scarf. Now, rest. Doctor’s orders.

Wilson coughs again, wincing in pain. House watches him with a mixture of concern and frustration.

HOUSE
Go back to sleep.

WILSON
Can’t.

HOUSE
Don’t knock it till you try it. That stuff’s gonna kick in sooner or later you know. Relax. Enjoy the ride. I’ll be right here.

Wilson’s eyes flutter closed as he drifts back to sleep. House sits back down in the chair and turns on the TV.
END SCENE

INT. PRINCETON-PLAINSBORO TEACHING HOSPITAL - CUDDY'S OFFICE - MORNING
Cuddy is working on a mountain of paper work on her desk. Her assistant, JENNY, pokes her head in.

JENNY
Dr. Cuddy, you have a 10 o'clock with the board.

Cuddy nods absentmindedly.

CUDDY
Thanks, Jenny. I'll be there in a minute.

Jenny leaves, and Cuddy picks up her pen again, tapping it against the desk as she stares out the window, deep in thought. She finally makes a decision, picks up her phone again, and starts to dial.

INT. WILSON'S APARTMENT - CONTINUOUS
House is in the kitchen, raiding Wilson’s fridge. He takes a bite of pancake when his phone rings. He fishes it out of his pocket and looks at the caller ID before picking it up.

HOUSE
Hi again. What are you wearing?

CUDDY'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS

CUDDY
Do you ever take anything seriously?