InsaneJournal

Death or Something Like It (6/6)
Title: Death or Something Like It
Chapter Titles: Rationalizing + Epilogue
Rated: PG13
Pairing: none
Fandom: House MD
House MD belongs to Bad Hat Harry productions and its partners.

-----

This was written in response to listening to far too much HIM. It's like vampire rock. This was written just now.

This vampire story can be blamed on the fact that Wilson's actor, Robert Sean Leonard, had his debut in an '80s vampire film My Best Friend is a Vampire. It is a hilarious movie in which young Wilson played an obscenely cute vampire-ling.

-----

Late afternoon sun pricked at his eyes as Wilson sat at his desk in his office, doing charts. His door threw itself open and House limped in. He pulled out a crucifix with a loud “Ha!”

Wilson stared, unimpressed. “I’m a Jewish vampire,” he said, deadpanned. House drew out a Star of David with a second “Ha!” Wilson continued to look unimpressed.

“No reaction to stereotypical religious symbols,” House mused.

“Does whomever you stole those from know you stole them?” Wilson asked, ignoring House.

“And you have the window open so sunlight must not turn you to dust,” House continued.

“Didn’t turn Dracula to dust either.”

“Sure it did, all the time. Haven’t you even seen a Dracula movie?”

Wilson held up a copy of Bram Stoker’s Dracula. The book. “I’m sticking to the source, thank you,” he said. “It’s got to be better than some emo cheerleader following me around so she can subdue me with fake kung-fu and implied lesbianism.”

“Oh but I like lesbianism,” House said, faking a disappointed look.

“Ask nicely and maybe you can get Cuddy and Thirteen to indulge you.”

House responded by taking out his cell phone. It gave a small click. Wilson remained unimpressed as House checked the camera on his phone. “Physics doesn’t work that way,” Wilson said blandly.

“Damn,” House said. Wilson showed up normally in his cell phone’s camera.

“And I don’t turn into a bat or wolf,” Wilson said.

“Can’t know for sure until you try it.” A thought occurred to House. “You have tried it,” he realized.

Wilson looked sheepish. He couldn’t blush.

“I knew it, you actually tried to turn into a bat! Ha! Cuddy owes me a hundred bucks. How about garlic?”

A thought occurred to Wilson, a very scary thought. What if he couldn’t eat garlic anymore? He liked garlic, having to give it up would be horrible.

“So what news from the board?” House asked.

“They’re worried,” Wilson admitted. “They’re worried what’ll happen when I turn to taking blood without consent. They’re worried I might kill someone without trying or meaning to. They’re worried you’ll never find an answer and they’ll never get credit for me. I’m worried they’ll try to force me into a bone marrow transplant and it won’t work. Hell, House, I’m worried I might kill you.”

“I guess we should figure out how you were made a vampire before anything else.”

Wilson was horrified. “Don’t even joke about that!”

“I’m not. If you drink too much from me and we can’t get a transfusion in time we should know how to change me into a vampire. Unless you’d rather I keep gambling with my life…”

“You know I hate when you do that…”

“Well then,” House said, as though it were all settled.

Wilson sighed. He had a feeling he should remember how he was changed. After all, he was there. He’d been grabbed from behind, bitten, he could almost feel being drained and then he was being… fed…

“You’d have to drink my blood,” Wilson said suddenly. “That’s all it takes. You drink my blood and then you… die. If you wake up it worked.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then you don’t.”

House dropped onto the couch, somewhat stunned by this news. It was so simple, deceptively simple… “The infection, curse, whatever you want to call it, it’s in your blood,” he said.

“I figured that, House.”

“It’s in your blood, not your marrow. If we transplant marrow you’ll still be infected. We’d have to transplant and replace your blood at the same time. All of it. If we leave even a mouthful’s volume you’ll re-infect yourself.”

“Difficult,” Wilson admitted. “Might not even be possible. The transplant takes too long.”

“Just to be sure, we should treat this as what it looks like,” House said.

“Vampirism?”

“Pure red cell aplasia with Cotard’s Delusion.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t bring out the drugs before now,” Wilson admitted. “Immunosuppressants? Can’t I just drink blood?”

“Probably. It doesn’t fit any of your symptoms, it fits the biopsy.”

“Might as well try treatment. If the board finds out you had a theory and didn’t follow it they’ll hang you and stake me.”

House nodded and limped out of the room. He had phone calls to make.

-----

House let himself into Cuddy’s office. He got his customary annoyed look. “Did you know I can fake having medical power of attorney over Wilson?” he asked as a means of opening.

Cuddy sighed and bit back her first retort. “Is Wilson aware of that?” she asked.

House dropped a file on Cuddy’s desk. “Wilson’s dead,” he pointed out.

Cuddy went pale. “What?” she asked.

“At least he was. Read that.”

Cuddy reached for the file as though it would bite. She opened it and felt her blood run cold. EMT report of a Dr. James Wilson found assaulted, pronounced dead on arrival. Cause of death was suspected to be massive blood loss. Hospital paperwork on his body being transferred to the morgue, an autopsy scheduled. Police report of his body having gone missing.

“He’s really a vampire,” House admitted.

“There’s no other explanation?” Cuddy whispered.

House’s answer was to leave. A question that stupid didn’t even deserve a sarcastic remark.

Cuddy looked closer at the file. Time stamps on the various actions would indicate House’s explanation was right. But it was still impossible, wasn’t it? The other hospital must have screwed up, right?

But… what if it were true?

-----

Epilogue

-----

Four weeks of immunosuppression therapy. Four weeks of being careful around his patients and blood tests and having to log every bite and sip of food, drink, blood, everything. Still, Wilson had to admit to himself, it wasn’t cancer.

And if the failure of the immunosuppressants was any indication, it wasn’t pure red cell aplasia either. If anything immunosuppression ended up making it worse as he’d lost his ability to handle garlic and his anemia got worse. It was all he could do to stop himself from pilfering pints from the bloodbank and hiding with them in a closet.

Now that the immunosuppression therapy was considered a failure he no longer had to stop himself. Which is why the moment when House declared the treatment a failure Wilson was off to the bloodbank.

House followed the reports of “he went that way” to a janitor’s closet. He opened it to find Wilson sitting on an overturned bucket, sucking on a mostly empty blood bag.

Wilson looked up from his blissful gorge at the figure in the rectangle of light. House. Wilson tried to look nonchalant. A trickle of blood leaked from his mouth, ruining the effect.

“Hungry?” House asked cheerfully, closing the door.

Cuddy found him later in his office. Wilson was still missing.

“He’s in the closet,” House supplied helpfully.

“I don’t suppose this has anything to do with the missing blood in the bloodbank, does it?” she asked.

“If Wilson wants to come out of the closet that’s his own thing,” he said with a shrug. “I’ll remind him that while a velvet cape is pushing it, body glitter is grounds for an immediate staking.”

Cuddy looked like she’d swallowed something foul and left.

“Body glitter, huh?” drifted the voice from the balcony. Wilson leaned against the wall in as much shadow as he could find.

“Grounds for a staking,” House reiterated.

“Black lace parasol is prettier,” Wilson said.

“Freak.”

End