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Chapter Text

Chapter 1

***

Dr. James Evan Wilson, the head of oncology, of Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, was called to the office of Dr. Lisa Cuddy. “You called?” He said when he popped his head on the door frame.

“I need to talk to you?” Cuddy said, standing up and crossing her arms.

“I heard,” Wilson said sardonically, sitting down.

She took a deep breath and sat down herself opposite him. “I need you to convince House to go to this conference in the Philippines on infectious Diseases.”

“No, why not asked Nolo or Jacobson from Infectious Disease, they are the best at what they do.”

“I might not admit it out loud,” said Cuddy, exasperated. “Gregory House is the best infectious Disease specialist in this whole wide world.”She said the last words with a childish tone.

“No,” Wilson rolled his eyes. “You called. you know why it’s not a very good idea to bring him to another country, Cuddy.”

Cuddy frowned. “Why? Because of autism? He seems fine to me..”

Wilson wanted to smack her, she is so dense sometimes. “Cuddy— You don’t understand. He won’t go.”

“Wilson, He needs to go. If he doesn’t go, I’ll fire him.”

“You can’t do that, Cuddy.” When he looked at Cuddy’s face, he didn’t see a bluff.

“You mean, you're serious.”

Cuddy sighed and fished out papers from the desk and handed it to Wilson. ‘The New Jersey Medical Board would revoke his license because he doesn’t go to conferences. Wilson. He needs to go.”

Wilson knew that because of the autism and House’s social anxiety, His spouse literally felt sick while talking to big groups. However, if it would prevent him from being fired, then he would convince him to go. “Please talk to them, Lisa. Please bumped his schedule speeches to the first day.”

“Deal,” Cuddy said.

Wilson sighed, “Now the hard part.” Wilson muttered under his breath. He stood up and left.

****

House was at his office when Wilson passed just before lunchtime. The diagnostician was playing with his ball, tossing it back and forth. Wilson examined his face for a couple of moments, he looked peaceful. The case was going fine, or as fine as an undiagnosed patient was. “Greg?” Wilson said, and the ball stopped.

“Uh… Sorry, bit distracted.” House sighed. “How can I help you?” He said, though he couldn’t understand sarcasm, he used it well.

“You need to eat,” Wilson said. He knew that House didn’t eat until forced to. His executive function was nonexistent; his self-preservation gone.

“Yes, It's lunchtime.” He stood up and walked toward the door. “I want to go to lunch elsewhere.”

“McDonald’s?”House nodded. There was a Mcdonald's outside the hospital, which they often frequented,

They walked from the elevator; and thru the main door. As soon as House ventured to the busy restaurant, it became overwhelming for him. He almost put his hand in his ear. He had forgotten to bring his noise-canceling headphones from the hospital.

The urge for him to flee the area kicked in. “This isn’t very beneficial," House said, Meanwhile, his spouse was ordering their food. House hummed the theme from Star Wars while drumming his fingers on his crossed arm. He was stimming.

A five-year-old boy approached House. “Your weird; what is wrong with you?” The mother chastised the young boy when House’s humming became louder as if he was reaffirming his belief that there was nothing wrong with him.

Beside him, Wilson noticed and paid House no mine. Because he needed to do those things sometimes, hence the ‘thinking ball.’ He finished paying for what they ordered.

House led Wilson out away from the noise of the fast-food joint; luckily for him, there was a small courtyard outside. “Is there something you want to talk to me about?”

“Why would you say that?” Wilson asked. He shouldn’t be surprised, but he was.

House sighed. “You only go to lunch when you want to ask me something or to talk other important reason.” He said picking up a chicken nugget and putting it in his mouth.

Wilson sighed as well, looking at House. “Lisa called up to her office, and we have…. A chat…”

Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, House said; “I did nothing wrong.” He splayed his hands up in surrender.

“Greg, Your license is due for renewal this year, and you hadn’t gone to a single medical conference….”

House’s breathing picked up. He started to hum and rock back and forth. He was remembering a past that stayed hidden in his life except for Wilson. Growing up with a marine fighter pilot father, every time they would leave one country for another, the change of time zone and weather would be hell on him. As an adult, House hated routine. However, he hated to be apart from his piano, guitars, and his motorbike for even a couple of hours.

“Hey? Greg?” Wilson said, circling the table to come to him. He knew that House loved deep-pressured hugs. “Are you alright?”

House scolds his face to an inscrutable mask. “I am fine. where is it?” The tremble of his hand bellied his panic.

“In the Philippines, I have no details yet, Greg.”

“Okay, I can’t let Father win. If I didn't do this the medical board would revoke my license, right?”

Wilson nodded. “You need to eat more, You just ate a chicken nugget.” Then House’s pager went off. “Who is that?”

“Chase,” House said, moving towards the street.“Tell, Cuddy I want to go there.”

Wilson smiled, but the lingering thoughts were still in his head.

***
Wilson followed his partner out to the hospital. But He went to Cuddy’s office. It was good that she didn’t have a visitor. “Lisa,” Wilson said. “When and where is this conference on?”

“You chat with him. Seat down, James.” Wilson sat down opposite Cuddy’s chair.

Wilson nodded. “Yeah, I want to put on the record; that Greg was on the verge of a panic attack earlier,” Wilson said.

“Yes, You can’t protect him from the world,” Cuddy said sardonically.

Wilson glared at her. “You have no idea how much he'd worked to be ‘normal,’ do you?
Cuddy didn’t reply, instead, she handed him an envelope. Wilson opened it. He read the information; it would be for four days in July. However, House needed to acclimatized to his surroundings. “We need to be there a week or two before the conference.”

“James?” Cuddy said, with an angry frown. “You’re not coming.”

“But Why?” Wilson stood up; and began pacing. “Lisa, You know him. He doesn't eat on time. How can I just sent him on a plane; and just hoped that he ate? He has autism.”

Cuddy wanted to argue more with Wilson. However, She knew not to. House’s functioning level is that of a 12-year-old boy. He may be a genius in Music, Medicine, and Motorsports, but in many ways, he was still a child. “Okay, you will be on vacation leave.”

“Fine. Get us first-class seats.”

“Already did, for him. I’ll get you one.”

“Thank you, Lisa.”

***

House was home late, he’d driven his motorbike in to work; It wasn't advisable, because of his issues with inattention associated with the ASD. He could drive for heaven's sake!!. This morning Jimmy informed him that they would be going to the Philippines for a conference, at first he was angry because this was being forced on him; however, He loved the Philippines, being back there with Wilson; it would be a bonus.

His family lived in the country for almost five years, the longest time they had, from when he was nine years old until he was fourteen. They had lived in a base, but because it wasn’t a war zone, he and his mother could go to civilian zones, where he met locals.

House entered their bedroom, he knew that Wilson was already asleep in his side of the bed. He could understand him if he wanted to. He decided not to, they had a tiring day. House sat on the bed, the bed dipped, Jimmy stirred. “Go back to bed.”

Wilson woke up fully. “Greg, What time is it?”

“Eleven. Maybe eleven-thirty.”

“What time did you get home?” Wilson asked, turning on the light.

House rolled his eyes. “I can ride perfectly fine, thank you very much.”

Wilson knew not to dignify that quip. “You eat already?”

“No, nothing since three, I am busy, finishing up the Johnston case.”

“Greg,” Wilson said, swinging his legs up. “You need to eat. I’ll make you something, Burrito?”

House nodded his head. They headed to the kitchen, where Wilson made House dinner. Deciding againts drinking coffee, Wilson made a glass of milk instead.

“Still have a beer?”

“We have apple cider.” House nodded, he ate in silence.

Wilson watched him eat. Remembering the conversation with Cuddy earlier, how could she suggest that House can manage the four days; House didn’t eat; if he could help it. He needed to have a reminder constantly to eat or to go drink. One time he had left for a conference, he got home to the apartment a mess. House was spinning on the desk chair. When he approached House, his partner looked annoyed. House hadn’t eaten in two days. Wilson vowed to not leave House alone for overnight.

“Jimmy? You okay?” House asked, looking at him thoughtfully.

Wilson nodded. “I have an annoying chat with Cuddy,” He needed tread very carefully here. “I want to accompany you in the Philippines. She said no for some reason.” Wilson didn’t elaborate on what Cuddy told him.

House’s breathing picked up a bit. Wilson hugged him; and kissed him from behind. “Bedroom, now,” House told Wilson, they walked to the bedroom arm over shoulders.

End of chapter 1

Chapter Text

It was a beautiful June day, House was riding his motorcycle around the university. He was thinking through everything that would probably go wrong in the Philippines, what if there was a typhoon? During his time in the country, there have been three significant storms, one of which was called Monang. He had recalled the thunder; lightning and the wind.

House hated the wind most; he hated the electric fans at home. Wilson had a fan in the study that he hated. The sound of it and how the fan felt was greeting on his nerves.

He parked the motorcycle at a park near PPTH. The team had no case. It was a frustrating day After Cuddy had browbeaten him into working the clinic. House was sent plenty of mothers and their kids. The crying got to his nerves; he told a parent that his son wasn’t dying rather unkindly. Cuddy was called; she had reprimanded him for being callus in front of the father. As he stormed out of the exam room, Cuddy’s words echoed. “He can’t control himself.”

“Control yourself, Rory.” His mother’s voice played in his ears. House slammed that thought out of his mind. The fact was he couldn't change the fact that he was autistic, even if he wanted to.

“Penny for your thoughts?” House was startled by Wilson’s words. He turned around. “I heard about the incident in the clinic; You alright?” Wilson’s voice resonated in House’s ear.

He sometimes hated that he and Wilson had been best friends before turning their relationship romantic. Wilson knew him very well. House nodded. “It wasn’t fair.” He knew he sounded childish, however, he didn’t care.

“I know.” Wilson just smiled. “So you ran from the hospital to the apartment, got your bike, rode it.”

“Yes, did Cuddy called you?”

Wilson shook his head. "No, I heard it from Brenda the clinic nurse.”

“Am I a bad person to say that I want something to go wrong in the Philippines so that I could help?” House asked.

The constant pressure on House to be somewhat normal was taking a toll on him. “We could do Doctors without Borders if you want.”

“You're missing my point, Jimmy.” Said House as he faced Wilson now. “I wished for a distraction, not to create one.”

“Well, yeah. I know what you mean.” Wilson said. “Back to the hospital, or you want to go eat out?”

“Eat out, definitely.”

They loaded the bike to their SUV, It was a Volvo bought by Wilson for its safety features. House thought that it was a boring car.

They headed to dinner at a small pub outside of Princeton. It was an LGBT bar, which was own and operated by Dylan Crandall, House’s friend. They ordered the usual, House loved their Rubin sandwiches, for he could order it dry without pickles. He’d been a picky eater all his life.

“Where’s Dylan?” House asked a waiter.

The waiter sighed. “Crandall is out picking Leona from NYU.”

House resumed eating his sandwich. Meanwhile, Wilson ordered BLT. He was aware that Wilson was watching him. “What?”

“Is it just me or you looked handsome today; In your gray jeans and a rolling stones shirt? ” Wilson said, as he looked House over.

House rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know, you like objectifying your spouse.” They ate the rest of their meal in comfortable silence. After dinner, they shared coffee crumble cake.

House wondered outside; while Wilson paid the bill. The diagnostician was deep in thought; as the parking lot of Crandall’s.

Wilson halted his pace. “Greg? You alright?” Wilson knew not to worry about the pacing, it’s just stimming. House nodded, Wilson led him in their car.

Once in the comfort of the car, Wilson asked. What’s on your mind, You know you’re a bit distracted?”

House wanted to lie, but Wilson would deduce it out of him. “I overheard Cameron and Hadley talking about my birthday. Wilson could certainly guest the meaning of that statement. “Don’t talk to them. it’s my business, not yours.” Wilson nodded.

They drove back, while they were in the car headed home Wilson asked, “So, what do you want to do on your birthday?”

House sighed, “Monster jam. Then dinner and drinks with you.”

“Of course, your wish is my command,” Wilson said sardonically. He called. ‘Siri’ the car's assistant. “Are there any monster jam shows near Princeton on the eleventh?” House smiled. Siri answered with an affirmative. In Trenton, five o’clock. Wilson booked two tickets.

House didn’t like surprises because he knew needed for what to expect. Wilson always asked him what he wanted to do on his birthday or what he wanted for Christmas.

They arrived home. As soon as House was inside, he kicked his Nike’s AirMax 90’s and went to his piano. While Wilson went to the study to work on House’s infectious disease speech.

***

The next morning while Wilson was working on paperwork, n there was a knock on the door. It was Cameron and Hadley. Wilson had the urge to roll his eyes.

“Dr. Wilson?” Cameron said.

“What can I do for you, lovely ladies?” Wilson said sardonically.

Cameron looked at Hadley, urging her to speak. “Its House’s birthday next week,” Hadley said. “And we want to surprise him.”

The woman looked at him strangely. “Why?” Hadley asked.

Wilson sighed again. “He doesn’t like surprises.” Cameron quirked an eyebrow. “Don’t go behind his back,” Wilson warned.

Wilson quirked a brow. “Who are ‘we’?”

It was Cameron who said. “Just the two of us, Foreman doesn’t want to be bothered, and Chase said no right away.”

Wilson sighed. Chase knew that House was autistic; House had informed him because he had a meltdown in front of Chase that first year. He told Chase that House hated birthdays. “Please, don’t bother him, girls.”

The women looked at him strangely. “Why?” Hadley asked.

Wilson sighed again. “He doesn’t like surprises.” Cameron quirked an eyebrow. “Don’t go behind his back,” Wilson warned.

“I don’t understand, Dr. Wilson; House hated surprises?” Cameron asked, fishing now.

Wilson peered the outside his office into House’s. “Cameron—“ He halted when he saw House. Cameron and Hadley peaked at the balcony door. House was pacing and muttering on his side of the balcony. “Cameron, Please, don’t surprise him, now shoo.”

The moment Cameron and Hadley left, Wilson went outside to speak with his partner. “Greg? Everything alright?” Wilson asked, preventing House’s pace. House halted; he fished out a paper from his pocket. “Clinic schedule?”

House nodded. “Yeah, Cuddy came earlier, telling me since I would be leaving in a week and a half, I should just work in the clinic. Yeah, that would work.” The last part was said with his bitter sarcasm.

Wilson knew how much House hated the clinic, and his apprehension wasn’t because it was boring. His spouse was reminded of how inadequate he was when dealing with people. “Well, what do you want to do?”

House sighed. “You know, I hate clinic duty, help me with it, Jimmy.”

Wilson smiled. “Yeah, I’ll talk with Cuddy. You have a case?” House nodded.

***
On the eleventh, Wilson woke House up with his guitar, “Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy birthday, dear Greg. Happy birthday to you.” He sang and played the familiar song of greeting.

This was not a surprise for House, who the past 10 years of being together, and six years of marriage; Wilson always did that for him.
“Thank you.” He said automatically.

“I got you something,” Wilson said, handing House a package wrap in blue wrapping paper. “Well, I brought you that cause you might want to play; while we were on the road.”

House opened the present with gusto. As soon as the gift was opened, he smiled. It was a Martin LX1 travel-size acoustic guitar. “Thank you, Jimmy. I love it, really.” His smile touched his blue eyes.

For someone who hated surprises, the genuine smile was huge. “I made you, your favorite food macadamia nut pancake, go to the breakfast bar before you play your new toy.”

House nodded and left their bedroom with his guitar on his left hand. He sat opposite Wilson on the breakfast bar, they ate in contented silence. After the meal, they went shower.

Wilson had an appointment today in another hospital. Afterward, he and House would be going to Trenton to watch a monster truck rally and dinner at Rafael’s; House’s favorite sit down place.

Wilson drove House to work.

***
House went to his office; after Wilson drop him off at the main entryway to the hospital. He stood near the edge of Wilson and his office’s. Cameron and Hadley were discussing inside; There was a medium-sized box, on top was a chocolate cake. He finally entered his office.

As soon as he was inside, the two ladies got to their feet and began singing the birthday song. House nearly put his hand in his ear. The sound greeted on his nerves, like nails in a chalkboard. Unlike Wilson’s tone, gentle and soothing, theirs was a little high pitch.

He didn’t saw Chase entered. “Stop it, guys!” He heard Chase yelled, “Look at him. You’re overwhelming him.”

Cameron and Hadley looked at Chase and at House. “What do you know?” Cameron asked, looking at House.

Chase started to speak, however, House had beaten him to it. “I have a sensory processing disorder.” “SPD?” Cameron asked. “That condition is associated with Autism.” House practically saw as the cogs turned in her head.

House ran from his office to the clinic to accomplish his duties, four hours in hell. He texted Wilson. ‘Cameron’s brilliant idea pushed through; I thought you informed them.’

Then his phone rang, It was his father. He should turn off his phone. The patient a four-year-old kid with pink eye asked, “Dr. Greg, what’s wrong?”

He loved working with children when the parent wasn’t being insufferable idiots; thinking that their child had ebola if they have simple flu. He answered matter of factly. “My father is bugging me.” His tone invited no questions.

After spending his time in the clinic House went up to his office. A package was laying on his desk. “To House, from Robert Chase,’ it read. House opened it. It was a yoyo, fidget cube and a weighted blanket. He smiled a bit. He won’t thank Chase, not his style, but he could buy him a lollipop.

At five Wilson entered House’s office. “Hi,” Wilson said shyly.

“Oh, hi,” House said putting his things in his blue backpack; and changing from his lab coat into his jean jacket. “Let’s go!” He said walking to Wilson and giving his spouse a kiss on the lips. “How was your day?” House asked while they walked to their car.

“Boring.”

They headed to watch the monster truck show. While there, Wilson watched House; he looked happy, peaceful even. When his favorite truck came, Gravedigger; House almost squealed in glee. Wilson smiled; He was happy to see Greg happy.

After the show, House and Wilson ate at Rafael’s.

End of Chapter 2

Chapter Text

A week and a half later, June 23, House packed his bag with Wilson’s help. They had been packing all day yesterday; their backpacks were brought to the brim. Wilson overpacked; he wanted to make House comfortable. He and House had wanted to treat this trip as a vacation. While away for five weeks in the Philippines, one week they would spend in the city of Clark in the province of Pampanga, two hours drive from the capital Manila. Then after the conference, the plan was to go backpacking across Luzon, one of the three main islands of the country.

After the incident with his birthday House told Cameron that he was on the spectrum. The woman was on a hissy, half pitying and half freak out. She had almost blurted to a patient's father that Dr. House was autistic. Chase just removed her from the potential disaster on time.

House was furious, and stress out. He finagled a five-week vacation from Cuddy. He told her about an offer for a research position at UCLA, and he was ready to take it. Wilson was willing to go with him. Cuddy was taken aback; she gave in without any fuss.

They took an Uber to the John F. Kennedy Airport in New York City. As soon as they were there, House’s nerves were shot to hell. He had taken his Luvox, which he only takes when extremely anxious.

“Greg, You okay?” Wilson asked while they walked to their gate. House put a hand on his ears, even though he has his noise-canceling headphones on. The airport was busy; people were rubbing against him. House was on the brink of a meltdown. “Okay, Greg,” Wilson said dragging him to go to a bathroom.

As soon as the bathroom open House went inside a cubicle. Wilson followed him in; his partner was rocking back and forth. The oncologist slid down next to House and hugged him. The noise overwhelmed him, and too many people. Wilson knew this; He just stayed in the bathroom for thirty minutes. Luckily for them, they were an hour early.

After the meltdown ended, House felt humiliated. Wilson sensed this. “Hey?” Wilson said. “You don’t need to feel embarrassed, Greg. I love you.”

House huffed; he lost his words. As a child, whenever he had a meltdown, his Oma would know how to coax him, hugging him tightly. “Jimmy, I’m fine,” House said, regaining his barrings.

Wilson blinked and handed House the cane. He used a cane whenever they would walk far. His legs were easily fatigued due to hypotonia, which was related to the Autism. They walked hand and hand; Wilson kept House’s guitar bag, it was the Martin LX1.

The next hurdle of this trip was the pat-down search. House past thru a metal detector fine; an agent stopped him. “Mister, where do you think you’re going?” The TSA agent asked.

House; oblivious to the sarcasm said. “To a medical conference in the Philippines, I’m a doctor.”

Wilson frowned. “Sir, please forgive him, he has Autism,” He said. The glare from House didn’t stop him. “He doesn’t understand sarcasm.” The statement was half correct. House could understand sarcasm when he knew the person speaking.

The TSA agent, a man asked. Are you his brother?”

Wilson glowered at him. “He's my husband.”

The TSA agent looked at House with disgust. Wilson sighed. “Where the hell is your supervisor? Because I won’t let you harass us for being gay. Being gay is not a crime. I don’t know what you saw on him, but you are looking at the wrong person here. As he said, he is a doctor, not a terrorist. “ The agent looked humiliated.

Wilson led House out to their gates. They sat at a frequent flyer lounge, Wilson and House were both frequent flyers. They flew at least once a month to go visit House’s 86-year-old Oma in Portland. While his parents settled in Eugine.

“Greg? You doing okay?” Wilson asked while they drink coffee.

House looked at him. "What do you think? You called me autistic in front of a bear; I have no choice but to give a speech." He said, and his voice was bitter.

Wilson knew House. His spouse didn’t like it when people questioned their relationship, saying that because he had autism he didn’t know how to Love, romantically. “I’m sorry, I just need to get him off your back.”

House sighed. “I don’t want you to tell people I’m on the spectrum, James. It’s my business. “ He knew that House was upset when he uses his first name, not his nickname, ninety-nine percent of the time he was Jimmy to House or (Wilson at work.)

He knew not to argue with him; he was right. “Okay, I am sorry again.”

The overhead speakers announced their flight. They both got their backpacks, Wilson took the guitar, while House took his cane. They boarded the flight without any difficulties.

As they sat at first-class, House opened his laptop sleeve and got his MacBook Pro; and began editing the speech, that Wilson wrote. While Wilson got to sleep.

The fifteen-hour flight was a success.

During the flight, House played on his phone and iPad. While awake, Wilson researched LGBT issues in the Philippines. Although there are no laws on the criminalization of homosexuality; the country has no protection for being a gay man. According to his source, a nurse back in Princeton; "The Philippines is like the US in the ’90s. People in the country were more tolerant and accepting, though."

The plane touched down at Clark-Diosdado Macapagal International Airport. This was Wilson’s first time here in Asia; He and House had vacationed in Europe a bit. They had avoided Asia and Africa for safety reasons.

“Jimmy, welcome to my home for five years.” Said House as he ordered a (Grab car) an Uber-like service in the country.

The Grab CAr arrived. As soon as they were in the got inside the car, House slumped in a seat. “Mabuhay, Welcome to the Philippines, My name is Carlos.”

Wilson looked at his partner for cultural guidance. “People in the country understands English pretty well, they had been learning it for years since Pre-School,” House told Wilson while slumping next to him in exhaustion.

“Okay, Carlos,” Wilson said. “What are the best places for food?”

The driver smiled. “There is the mall; you can eat at some of our restaurants. First timer?”

Wilson smiled despite his exhaustion. “Yes, but my partner lived here when he was a teenager.”

The driver’s smile was never faltered. “Where are you from?”

“We are from New Jersey.”

They arrived at their hotel. “If you want a ride, call me,” Carlos told Wilson in parting, giving him his personal number.

Wilson booked a suite; at the Clark Marriott hotel. As soon as House saw their bed, he removed his blue Hershel & Co backpack and slumped to sleep. Wilson followed after a quick shower.

GH/JW

Hours later, It was ten in the morning they had arrived at 4AM. House woke up. They needed to buy OTC medications. They didn’t usually bring so many things, because he and that conveyor belt don’t mix. “Jimmy? You awake?” House asked, shaking Wilson. “Am hungry.”

Wilson mumbled, “Greg, what time is it?”

House looked at the alarm clock. “ten-thirty. I‘m hungry.”

Wilson stood up and got his jeans from underneath the bed.

“Can we call for room service instead of going outside?” House asked, getting his laptop from his bag.

Wilson most defiantly wanted to say no; Let's go outside and mingle in with the locals at the mall, but no, House needed to rest, for lunch, he would urge. “Okay." Wilson got the hotel phone. Then he asked as though forgotten. “What kinds of Filipino food do you eat when you were younger?”

House remembered the taste of one of the handfuls of mushy food he would eat, Kaldereta. Kaldereta was made of goat or sometimes beef with liver paste and tomato sauce. He’d love the beef version. “Kal- De- Re- Ta. Kaldereta.” When Wilson gave him a questioning look. “or Adobo.” He said the words with the correct accent.

“You call them yourself,” Wilson suggested. House looked at Wilson as if Wilson killed his puppy. Right, social anxiety, he thought. House swallowed nervously. “I won’t let you call them, okay?” Wilson was reminded; how House was in many ways a kid.

He dialed the number, “Do you have, Kaldereta or Adobo?” The staff on the other line answered an affirmative, “An order of adobo and kaldereta, please, Rice?" House gave a big nod, he ordered rice too.
“So what are we going to do today?” Wilson asked; when the phone call ended.

“Do some touristy things with you?” House said, peering from playing on his iPad.

They have watched CNN Philippines on the hotel’s flat-screen TV. It was an English channel but was geared towards Filipinos and what was happening in the country. “There is a freaking Typhoon,” House commented as he saw what was on the TV screen.

“Where is it headed?” Wilson asked.

“We don’t know yet,” House said, as he peered towards a half-opened window. Meteorology had been one of his obsessions growing up.

Their food arrived fifteen minutes later. House looked at his food, and the Kaldereta looked and smelled lovely. House tasted it; as soon as he tasted his food. He was brought back almost 30 years ago; in the same town, that was previously a military base.

Wilson was delighted to see him eat; House regularly didn’t eat, he didn’t like the texture, or the smell or its high caloric. His partner was closed to being too thin. “Greg, you really love it here?” He asked as he took a bit off his chicken adobo; it was really good.

House looked at everything, but not at Wilson. He is gearing up for a speech. “When I was eight, I was homeschooled because of autism. I was bullied. I was with Oma Abbigail in California, while mom joined father somewhere in South America. I didn’t come; it's too dangerous. When I got here, in Clark, knowing a few words of Tagalog. I started in the third grade. They just put me on the fourth grade a month into it, After that school year I was entering the sixth grade.”

“Where I went to school was an international school, but 80 percent are Filipinos. Kids didn’t bully me, unlike that back in the states. They liked me, Here I was a Kano-puti or white American.” House said, touching the keyboard of his laptop repetitively.

Wilson didn’t know what to say. “I am sorry you went through that, babe.”

“Don’t be,” House said, making eye contact for the first time since the question started.

End of Chapter 3

Chapter Text

House and Wilson sat at Starbucks at SM Mall in Angeles on the 25th, people watching, it was eleven in the morning. They would be meeting a former classmate at the International School, that House had reconnected with via Facebook last year. Dr. Gabriella Vargas was House’s childhood best friend. Her Father was a Filipino-American surgeon in the US Army who stayed in the country after the US military left in the early 90s

She was now a doctor herself; she finished medical school at the University of The Philippines and was now a staff doctor at a city hospital.

It had been drizzling all day, and House was cranky. It felt weird, the sound outside, even if he was wearing his noise-canceling headphones. The Supertyphoon was headed to the Philippines; however, the meteorologist had no idea where exactly it would make landfall.

“Greg?” Gabriella, a short, petite woman with long black hair and brown eyes, asked while walking towards House and Wilson’s table.

House removed his headphones, stood up. To Wilson’s astonishment, he hugged her. House doesn't usually hug people. "Kumusta ka, Gabby." He said.

“I am good, Greg.” She went to acknowledge Wilson. “You must be Dr. James Wilson.” Wilson gave a genuine smile.

“How is your father?” House asked, not looking at Gabriella.

“ You know he is not doing too good; dementia and all,” Gabby said.

House sighed, he wanted to do this like a typical person; he knew not to risk a meltdown in front of Gabby. “We are staying at the Marriott, care to join us? too many people.”

Gabby knew him though and picked up on his anxiety. “Okay, How did you two get here?”

“Grab Car,” Wilson said.

“Okay, I will drive you; if you two want?”

Wilson looked at House for what he wanted to do. “Okay, where is your car?” House asked his friend.

Gabby answered with a smile. “Not too far from here, you prefer to walk, Greg?” House took the cane, and Wilson took their half-empty coffee cups.

Gabby stuck by House’s side; Wilson followed them out. Her car, a Toyota SUV was huge. “It looks like a monster Truck,” House said and grinned, “I want that on the Volvo, Jimmy.” He told Wilson loudly, Wilson smiled and shook his head.

Gabby smiled and got on the front while House sat next to her. Wilson sat at the back. It was raining hard when they got out of the mall. House was shaking his head in a nervous tick.

Gabby seemed not to notice the tick; she just drove the thirty-minute drive to the hotel. House was getting more anxious by the moment. Wilson was at a loss; she would know that House was stimming. “Greg? You okay?” Wilson said from the back of the car. House nodded.

They arrived at the hotel, the rain was getting in House’s nerves. He needed to act somewhat typical, So, he followed Gabby with Wilson behind.

The three were at the hotel lobby in no time. House was tap-tap-tapping his fingers inside his cargo pant pocket; while the two follow him to the hotel’s restaurant.

“So How was Greg? I bet he gets in trouble because of his brain.” Gabby commented while they were walking to the hotel parking lot.

Wilson knew House usually celebrated ‘autism awareness month’ in April. He was also an outspoken advocate against ABA. However, House hadn't said anything about having Autism. "Ah..."

Gabby sighed, “I knew that he had autism, James. On the first day of school, his mother Blythe told the whole class. I didn’t look at him differently. If he was smart then…..” Gabby trailed out.

By this point, they sat at a quiet booth. “You were the most Brilliant kid in that school at the time,” Gabby commented after they ordered food. “No wonder you are the best diagnostician in the world. You didn’t tell me what are you and James doing here?”

House couldn’t stop playing with Chase’s gift, he smiled, however. “Working vacation, I am going to speak at the WHO summit on infectious diseases, I would be on HIV.”

She smiled. “I’ll be there myself.” She said. “Let's go together?”

House's autism prevented from grasping the person's intention from what they say. “We are leaving in two days, Gab, sorry.”

“I am going to manila on the 27th my son had a doctor’s appointment.” She told him. “It’s no trouble." Gabby had a son with ADHD, Nick.

“Its no problem, if you want,” House replied. House and Gabby reminisced about the old days, school days, and their work. House shared classic clinic stories. House was relaxed; Wilson noticed. The stimming almost stopped. Two hours later, Gabby left.

GH/JW

Two days later, the wind was blowing; it was raining hard, and House was anxious. The smell and the sound were getting on his nerves. They would be leaving in two hours. Gabby would pick them up; he needed to calm himself down.

The Typhoon, named Hannah, was the eighth tropical storm to enter the Philippines in 2019. The storm packed the strongest with winds of almost 200 miles, and gustiness of 260. While still in the Pacific ocean, it was moving West North-west with speeds of 35 MPH, according to CNN. If Hannah didn’t change routes, this was the most enormous and most powerful storm since 2013’s Haiyan or Yolanda.

House had once experienced a storm in thIs country; Monang in 1994. During which his father was doing his final tour. It was particularly scary. He also had worked during Sandy at Princeton, during which he and Wilson stayed in the hospital for three days. This could be a post-traumatic response to Sandy and Monang, not just his Autism. House drummed his fingers on his thighs to ease his anxiety.

He could hear Wilson speaking. “Greg, We’re leaving in five! You don't pack yet.” Wilson noticed him not moving and worriedly asked, “Greg? Everything alright?”

House wanted to call this a night and go back to Princeton, but he can’t let his father win. “Yes, I’m fine.” He stood up and packed his toiletry bag.

Wilson had spoken with Gabby yesterday, her son would sit in the front while House and Wilson would sit at the back. House’s anxiety level was through the roof.

“I need a Luvox..” House said; he wasn’t averse to taking psychotropic drugs to combat his anxiety. He got the pill from the pill bottle in his bag and took one.

“Greg, Gabby just called, they are at the lobby.” House slung his backpack in his shoulder and followed Wilson out into the lifts.

Gabby saw them exit the elevator, she stood up. She went to hugged House, but a warning glance at Wilson halted her. “Greg?” She asked worriedly. “This is my son, Nicholas.”

The boy gave House a once over and said, “You're weird.”

Wilson and Gabby exhaled in relief when House laugh. “I like this kid. He is honest, Yes, Nick, I am Dr. Gregory House, and this is my husband, Dr. James Wilson, we’re bakla.”

Nicholas looked at his mother. “Gay?”

Gabby nodded her head. “Yes, Nicholas, they are gay.”

They walked to the car; House and Nick talked about video games. House was a huge gamer, so he warmed to the idea of this kid. When they got to the car, Nick wanted to sit with House in the middle row. Wilson was nervous, but Gabby reminded him; that if House had any problems; he could join him.

As soon as they were on the road, the rain was pouring hard; not only there was a storm, but also it was monsoon season. House was nervously clenching and unclenching his hand, trying not to show how much the rain was getting on his nerves. If he was alone with Wilson, he would rock and hum, but in with the present company, no.

“Dr. House, You okay?” Nick asked, looking at House.

House sighed. “Is it okay that I rock a little, I need it.” Wilson was reminded of the first time they met.

They met in Tulane Medical Center in New Orleans. Wilson was a resident while House was a Volunteer during the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. House had uttered those same words to Wilson very nervously, while they were on their first date. He had come a long way.

“Yes, What is your diagnosis?” The twelve-year-old asked, in the same way, that House just did.

House examined Nick’s face, he might not understand sarcasm; he could see pity tenfold. When he was satisfied, he said, “Autism.”

“I have dyslexia and ADHD.” Nick offered, looking at him.

House looked at this kid. “Ah, You are really proud of it.” He commented sarcastically. “Good for you.”

House and Nick played with their gadgets, on the rest of the drive to Quezon City.

The four-hour drive was very tiring; the journey was fraught by flooding and heavy rains. Manila’s traffic was awful. When they got to their first destination, she asked. “You won't join us at his appointment, or you want to eat out?” Gabby directed the question to House and Wilson.

“I am hungry,” House said. “So see you later, kid.”

Gabby dropped them off at a mall, while she and Nicholas went to the hospital.

Trinoma Mall was huge; House thought, as he entered the mall. There was a sign for a Filipino restaurant in the escalator up. They got up to the women’s section. House dared to hold Wilson's hand while heading upstairs, although people looked; no one dared comment. It was like in Princeton. After eating, House went up to the video game section to buy Nick a game.

End of Chapter 4

Chapter Text

The next day, House and Wilson sat in their hotel room, watching the storm from the TV. Super Typhoon Hannah was nearing land. As it was nearing the east coast; It was evident how devastating this could be. The prediction was it would hit Calabarzon Area, later this day, near infanta Quezon.

House was restless; since arriving at Sofitel Philippine Plaza yesterday. He was like a bee buzzing with energy. “Greg!! You okay?” Wilson asked, glancing painfully at House.

Wilson caught his arm. “Greg! Look at me!” He said forcefully. “You sit down!” When House sat down, he asked. “What do you want to do? Do you want to go play pool? take the weather off your mind?” House nodded.

Wilson guided his partner to the recreational room. They played pool and ate calamari. House had his noise-canceling headphones on, but when a particular loud thunder hit, House slid down to the floor and began hyperventilating.

Wilson blinked, It happened so fast; one moment, they were playing pool and another, House was in meads of a meltdown. “Greg, calmed down, breathe, one, two, three.”

After a while House got up. “I have sensitive ears.” Wilson smiled, that is a thank you in House’s books. Wilson clapped him from behind, they resumed playing.

A couple of hours later, they noticed the floor of the recreation room beginning to water. House glanced at the window; the super typhoon was here. They both realized it was much bigger than they thought it was.

Wilson needed to calm down for both their sake, most importantly he also needed to calm his partner down. He led House upstairs via the staircase. Their room was on the fourth floor, The recreation room was dredge in cold water. Philippine Plaza was a waterfront hotel near the Manila Bay.

House was in shock; how much damage would this be for the country? He wanted to film the storm; when they got inside the room, however, he flopped in the bed.

“Greg, you want a drink, you’re shivering, I think you’re going into shock.” Wilson got the weighted blanket out from House’s backpack and draped it on his husband.

“Jimmy?” House said. “Get my headphones, then get here.”

Wilson was laughing, “Greg, the cuddlier, I would have known.” He rolled his eyes. “Or you, just are scared.” House knew that Wilson was joking; however, he scowled. Then a particular loud ramble was being heard; House flinched. “Okay?” Wilson said, “Sorry.”

House covered his head with the blanket. “It's loud.”

“Greg, you are wearing noise-canceling headphones, you can hear that?” Wilson said, hugging and kissing House.

House sighed. “Feel, SPD, remember?”

Wilson knew that House felt things more acutely than neurotypicals, As a doctor, he’d handle several patients with Autism; people with Autism had a much higher susceptibility to brain tumors than the general population. However, he wasn’t House. “How does it feel?”

House debated whether or not to answer Wilson’s question, even after six years of marriage; it was still hard for him to answer that particular question. He shrugged, “I don’t know how to explain, it just feels weird… ” There was another rumble, House turned inward, and stopped speaking, curled on to himself.

Wilson kissed the top of his head. God, this was hard seeing his Greg like this. “Greg, it’s okay.” He knew that it’s not for the Filipino people. What was outside this waterfront hotel?

Wilson knew that House loved this country; he also knew that House would want to stay after a disaster like this. They had met in New Orleans, because of a Hurricane.

Everybody in Princeton assumes that House was an asshole, because of the front he had shown them at work. They never knew the Greg that Wilson sees. The Greg that would cry over a patient's death; or the Greg that would volunteer at disaster zones.

There was a loud roaring sound, and all the lights went out. The generator which Wilson presumed was in the basement was down. The more important thing was House trembled in his arms. “You doing relatively okay?” Wilson asked; House nodded, unable to speak.

A couple of hours later the wind stopped. It was now night time, a check on the clock suggested that it was 9:00pm. Wilson was hungry; He needed to wake House, who fell asleep. “Greg?”

“I am hungry, Jimmy,” House said, looking furlong. “What time is it?”

“Nine.”

Wilson came to take a look down. It was devastation everywhere he looked. The luxury waterfront hotel was in ruin. A hand was tugging his arm, House. “Take your bag, Jimmy. We’re going.”

Wilson looked confounded. “Where’re we going?” He asked.

House sighed. “I want to work, do keep up, Dr. Wilson. God, why are you so slow?” He rolled his eyes. “We’re going to the department of health.”

“Now?” Wilson asked. House got impulsive a lot. When they first got together, after 5 years of being friends. House bought a piano for Wilson’s apartment in New Orleans, the problem was the complex didn’t allow instruments that big. “Greg, stop!” He said. “Do you even know where the Health Department is?” Wilson exclaimed.

“Yes, In fact, I know where this is, James.” House was getting antsy.

Wilson needed to defuse the situation. “Okay, you’re making yourself angry.” He said, circling House to hug him. “Greg, you need to eat first.”

House nodded.

They got down to the lobby; what they saw was devastation. House took a deep breath. The front door to the lobby looked as if a whirlwind burst it open; There are shards of glass everywhere. House led Wilson outside the hotel; the spectacle outside was devastating.

Outside was a different matter. Wilson hadn’t seen such a storm; Even during Sandy, it wasn’t like this. This, meaning, winds of over 200 miles and flooding hip deep. He now wanted to go to the Health Department before they ate.

They were bombarded by a local news station, GMA, for an interview. House was the first to speak. “What is your name?”

“Daniella Mabalacad.”

“Okay, Miss Mabalacad,” House said. “We’re doctors from New Jersey, I am Dr. House, and this is my partner Dr. Wilson. Here’s the thing, we need a ride to San Lazaro Hospital. We need a pass to work here; promise us you are going to get us a ride, then I’ll grant you an interview.”

After the interview, they were in a military truck that GMA news arranged for them. The streets were showered in darkness, as they left. House held Wilson’s hand. They were Philippine army personnel and Mabalacad and her camera crew.

“Do you have a satellite phone?” Wilson asked. “Our phones can’t get signals, we need to call home.”

“James?” Cuddy said, relief evident in her voice.

“Where is House? is he okay?” Cuddy asked a little worry tingeing her tone.

House was listening to the conversation. “I am fine, Cuddy. Listen, We are staying for the foreseeable future.”

“Okay, what do you guys need?”

House thought about it for a moment. “Call Vogler, I need medications.” House did a favor for his company, a few years ago, as up and coming diagnostician; he was called to give a speech about a drug. It would be a quid pro quo deal.

“For what?” Cuddy asked.

“Antibiotics: Penicillin and all. “ House said, annoyed. “Tell Chase, I want him to run my department.”

“Is that all?” Cuddy asked.

“Yes.”

“Wait, House?”

“Yes, mistress?” The people on the ride roll their eyes.

“Where do you want to send the drugs?”

House thought of it. “Mabalacad?”

“Yes, Doctor?”

House thought of it. “Does Your network have a foundation?”

“GMA Kapuso Foundation.”

“G-M-A- K-A-P-U-S-O Foundation,” Cuddy repeated the phrase. “Yes, that’s it. Care of Daniella Mabalacad.” They exchanged pleasantries and said their goodbyes. “One more phone call, to mom and dad.”

They weren’t answering, House left a voice mail. “As you know, I am with James, we were in the Philippines. You probably heard; that there had been a storm in the county. We are volunteering. We are okay."

“Doctor House, Can I ask is this your first time in the country?”

“I lived here when I was young; my dad was a US marine.”

When they got to San Lazaro Hospital, it was dark inside like at the hotel San Lazaro was without generators. They were doing it with candles; because of the oxygen tanks.

House tried to imagine playing his guitar, which was slang on his one shudder while the other shoulder was held his backpack. “God, this was hard.” He muttered under his breath.

They were lead inside an office; after Wilson asked for assistance. “How may I help you?”

“We are doctors from New Jersey,” House explained. “We want to help the people, I am doctor Gregory House…”

As soon as it registered. “Dr. House? Of course, you can help we needed your help. And who are you?”

“Dr. James Wilson, I am his partner.”

The woman quirked a brow but didn't comment. “You want to help, you can go to Laguna; because according to NDRRMC…Laguna was hardest hit by the typhoon.”

“Laguna is two hours away, right?”

“Yes…”

House looked at Wilson for approval. “When are we going?” It was now Twelve the next day.

“Maybe in the morning or afternoon, sign this.” The lady handed them three pieces of paper. They read it, after reading the signed it promptly.

“Is there a 7-11 open?” House asked.

“Yes, outside.” She was smiling

End of Chapter 5

Chapter Text

The next morning, House and Wilson slept upstairs at a cot at San Lazaro Hospital; As a result, House hadn’t slept. It was now nine in the morning for almost 12 hours since the storm. House got up and got ready for the long day ahead.

House shook Wilson’s shoulder. “Jimmy? You awake?”

“Greg? What time?” Wilson asked, groping for his phone, House checked his phone, it was 6:30 AM. They stood up to start their first-day post-Super typhoon.

The first order of business was to go to the headquarters to meet with some reporters. They would be off to Laguna. “It's still early, Greg, go back to bed.”

“I am wide awake already, I hadn’t slept last night,” House said.

Wilson knew it; this was the reason why they came to the conference so early. House needed to acclimatized with his surroundings. He nodded his head and got off the bed without a word; House joined him out.

As soon as they went outside, the maternity ward where they slept was buzzing. Babies were being born. A local doctor; who they had met last night asked. “Dr. House, Dr. Wilson, welcome to the Philippines, do you want to help us? I know you were going to Laguna, but…” Her voice trailed out.

House and Wilson looked at one another, nodding their heads. They went to the Emergency room, or more accurately, what was left of it. There were shards of glass everywhere; the ceiling was gone. The hospital was overwhelming with people.

A man was being brought, House knew, was a subacute subdural hematoma. "Head injury," He told Wilson.

A doctor overheard him. “There is no electricity, Dr. House. We can’t tell.”

House loved this sort of army doctor type job; he felt to be much closer to his father by doing this. “Look at him! He just had a seizure, there is a tinge of vomit on his face. Definitely unconscious. Look at his eyes; there is redness, blood. His optic nerve is blown. Where is his wife?” A woman in her early thirties went and approached him. “Did your husband fell?” He asked in Tagalog, his accent perfect.

The woman looked startled; she couldn’t quite figure out why House was speaking her language. She answered him in Tagalog. “In our house, he was fixing the roof.”

That was the only thing House needed to hear, “Is the OR open or there is too much damage?”

The doctor nodded. “The ceiling fell down yesterday during the storm.”

“Get me ketamine and a drill.”

Wilson pulled him aside. “House, You’re not a surgeon.” Wilson reminded in an undertone.

“No, Wilson, thanks for the reminder, you do it, I’ll assist,” House said sardonically.

Wilson nodded; he led the man’s two neighbors to an open bed. He washed his hands with antiseptic alcohol and put on gloves. He placed the drape around the man’s head. “Get her out of here!” He said, and the woman who was holding her husband’s hand left.

There were no monitors because there was no power. House counted the breaths and heart rate manually. His obsessive behavior was not a hindrance, it was his greatest asset.

Wilson drilled in the patient’s temple; the blood was vacated. He looked at his partner, who was calculating everything, “Heart rate is 90, Breathing 25. You have a stethoscope?” House asked. A nurse handed him the stethoscope. “Ninety Beats, not tachycardic, Ready to close, Doctor Wilson?” Wilson nodded and sutured the man’s temple. “Where is the recovery area.”

“There is no recovery room.” A doctor reminded Wilson. “It was destroyed, Dr. Wilson.”

“I know, dammit, sorry. ” Wilson spoke out loud. “Are there any rooms so that this person could recover?”

“We have the ward.” The local doctor said; as they loaded the man in a gurney.

Hours later, there were about to leave for Laguna; however, their ride was nowhere to be found. They wanted to visit their patient; Keith Sumulong was a Thirty-Two-year-old man who was brought to the ER when he fell off the roof. “Good Afternoon, my name is Dr. Gregory House, You can call me Gorio for short.” House was speaking in Tagalog. “Kamusta po kayo?”

Keith answered in Tagalog as well. “I am doing relatively okay.”

Wilson watched House’s interaction with this man. There wasn’t any animosity or mockery in his voice, unlike in Princeton. House was genuinely educating the man about what had been done. At that moment, Wilson knew why; they regarded House like everybody else. They had no idea or even they had, but people just chalked it on him being a nonnative.

“Maraming Salamat, Dr. House.”

House turned, gave genuine an open smile.

They hadn’t eaten since last night, it was nearing two. They walked into the worse disaster zone House had ever seen. The streets were littered with dead people; or their love ones searching for them.

They had their bags with them wherever they go. A woman asked them if they for spear change; House hesitated; not because he didn't want to give but what if other people saw him, they would want his money. He gave in though; He fished out on his wallet a fifty peso bill; and gave it to the woman.

Lucky for them, there was an open seven-11 convenient store; they went inside and got food. They both ordered sisig; It was okay, it wasn’t great. “Greg,” Wilson said, looking at House. “You did well with Keith today. Where was that person in Princeton?”

House shrugged, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t know, In Princeton, everybody is betting for me to fail. Here, they want a good doctor who could fix them up.”

Well said, Greg; people hated you because you can be forward. He could remember one incident of House being himself at work, the CEO Carlie Forlano was brought to the hospital with leg pain, that was caused by a DVT. House talked with her; she admitted to him that she had Bulimia. The patient ended up needing a new heart. Greg had lied to the transplant committee. He thought, picking up his spoon and resume eating.

After eating, they got back to San Lazaro Hospital. Their ride was waiting for them. It was a four-wheel army truck. House had a harder time than the last getting in, so Wilson helped by pushing him up.

The drive from Manila to Laguna was an adventure on its own. It was a ghost town; no cars, no people milling around. However, the wind blew so many infrastructures, billboards didn't survive. The travel stops and gas stations, along the road, were leveled to the ground.

The end of the South Luzon Expressway, the main highway going to Laguna, was unlike any other catastrophe that House had seen. Worse than hurricane Katrina and Sandy combined. Calamba City was flattened.

“There had been a landslide in the town of Liliw.” Said a Philippine Army personnel.

“What?” House asked, dismayed.

“Yes, Doctor, Rescue personnel is unable to get there.”

House cursed under his breath, a glance towards Wilson suggested that his partner was thinking the same thing. “How could this happen?” House asked; it was a rhetorical question. “God, this is worse than New Orleans, How about the people?”

Wilson was reminded of how House’s empathy works. House was a very empathetic person, but he had it shown in the big things, like a calamity or civil rights. He wouldn’t show care for a random broken leg.

Wilson was reminded of how House’s empathy works. House was a very empathetic person, but he had it shown in the big things, like a calamity or civil rights. He wouldn’t show care for a random broken leg.

“We actually need doctors in Liliw right now; there is a tent near the church.” The same army personnel told them.

They were nearing Santa Cruz; the provincial capital, thirty minutes to ‘ground zero;’ the truck stopped at the capitol, they needed to ride a tricycle.

A Philippine tricycle was like the German ones used in old war movies except with a roof. House sat in the back of the motorcycle, and Wilson inside the sidecar.

The streets or what was left of it; was littered with people crying for their dead loved ones. While others were laughing to forget the chasm in their lives. Trees were hit hardest; with winds of over two hundred miles, no wonder the damage it posed.

They got to Magdalena the second township to Liliw from Santa Cruz, the tricycle stopped. “We can’t go on.” The driver said. “Too much mud,” He added. “You should walk.”

“Can you manage, Greg?” Wilson asked from the inside of the trike.

House was angry; he hated it when people asked him that as if he can’t. “I can manage, James..” House got his cane from his bag; it was a collapsible one. It was nearing nighttime.

He could call his father, and they could hitch a ride on a Tiltroter plane and forget about this. However, he had wanted to do this for a while now. Regardless of how unplanned this particular trip was.

House liked being in Katrina in 2005, as a doctor, volunteering; he met his best friend and the love of his life. It had been fourteen years; four in friendship, 9 years together and six years of marriage, he wanted to feel much closer to his spouse. Now that the honeymoon period of their relationship was well over and replaced by their hectic lives.

They walked from Magdalena to Liliw, with the GMA news crew behind. There wasn’t any electricity, so the streets were dark. They then manage the walk. 40 minutes later, they had arrived in Liliw.

End of Chapter 6

Chapter Text

Disclaimer; NOT A DOCTOR!!!

When House, Wilson and the GMA news crew arrived in Liliw Laguna, It was dark and muddy, It was already night. They were hungry and tired; House and Wilson sat inside a tent; while the crew set up their equipment for the evening news.

As far as House could see, through the lights from the camera crew equipment, the town was muddy, and people walked with flashlights, everywhere looking for family and friends. The sight was getting to him like fingernails on chalkboards.

Beside him, Wilson noticed House began scratching his skin, He frowned. “Greg, stop it, you want to get an infection?” He asked; rhetorically.

House, didn’t recognize the rhetorical question. “No, I don’t want to, Jimmy, This is annoying, the light is bugging me.”

Wilson knew that House’s tackle perception was a little off; he was sensitive. He loved to be touch; however, he hated tickles. “So, Greg, what do you want to do about it?’

House shrugged, looking at Wilson, “I don’t know.”

They were at the St. John the Baptist Parrish, a Catholic Church, at the town proper. It was night time, so they couldn’t assess how much damage was brought by the super typhoon.

There were four tents inside the church. Doctors without Borders would be there tomorrow. House had a sign for DWB in Katrina, and he had loved it. However, an incident with another doctor had sent House packing.

“I need to go for a walk,” House said, standing up.

Mabalacad saw House exit and went to approach him, but a glance at Wilson stopped her. “He needs air.” He said.

. Mabalacad went to stand next to Wilson. “Dr. House has autism.” That wasn’t a question. Wilson pursed his lips; that was answer enough for her. “My brother has autism, high functioning, but he gets overwhelmed easily. He works with computers as an engineer.”

He glanced up to where House; he was doing something with his hand. “Excuse me.”

He went House to where he was standing; House was now playing with a ball from his office in Princeton. His partner was deep in thought. Wilson tapped him on his shoulder; House looked up. “Jimmy,” House blinked. “Can we go explore?”

Wilson nodded.

They walked from the church to the wilderness; they had their phones as flashlights. At one point, they heard a man and a woman arguing on whether to go to the hospital.

House looked at Wilson. Wilson knew that House truly wanted to help people, but he also got off on it, in a very selfish way. House glanced up at Wilson; who gave an encouraging smile. The diagnostician went and knock on the door, begin speaking in Tagalog. “My name is Dr. Gregory House; I overheard you and your wife.” The man looked up at him. “I think I can help you.”

“Are you a doctor? When House nodded; the man continued. “Her is due date was next week, but the baby is coming today, I guess.”

House looked up and the young woman, and scratched his head. “Damm, It’s a breech.” He stood up, looked at his partner, “Wilson?”

“What?” Wilson asked.

“Care to help? The woman is in pain.” House said.

“My water broke.” The woman said in Tagalog, pain evident in her tone.

“Why?” The husband asked, looking at House.

“This can’t wait; she is about to birth, now.”

The walked from the couple’s house, which was far from the town proper. Halfway through House was getting tired, his legs not carrying him, The three men transported the woman in a cot. “Can we stop?” House asked.

“We’re close, just hang in there, Greg.” Wilson murmured quietly.

Forty-five minutes later, House, Wilson and the couple arrived at St. John’s the Baptist church, he GMA news crew saw them enter. People were watching the report. So House asked. “Do we have a nurse?” House looked around for someone.

A woman in her mid-forties raised her hand, while Wilson and her husband stetted the woman near the ground. “I'm Cecile, I work in the United Kingdom. ” She told at House.

“I'm Doctor House, Cecile, you’re with me now,” House said, looking at her. “Have you done OBGYN.” Cecile nodded. “Doctor Wilson?”

“Yes, I am doing my best.” Meanwhile, Wilson was massaging the young woman’s belly to hopefully flipped the baby. People were standing around in a circle, watching.

“Are you done?” House muttered.

“No.” Wilson thought. “Dammit. The baby’s foot is out, House.”

House needed to think fast, “Cecile, Do we have a clinic here?”

“There is a clinic in the vicinity.” The nurse said.

House walked to her and murmured in her ear. “We need to go there.”

House and Cecile went towards the clinic; As soon as they were there, House was rummaging around. “Hey, you can’t open that,” Cecile said, but House was opening the door already. House searched around the clinic for what they would need.

As they returned to the church, “Dr. House?” Wilson said; House looked up from where he was prepping the patient. “Can I have a word?”House rolled his eyes, but when he saw Wilson’s expression, he sobered. "Neither one of us are OBGYN."

“No, James,” House said, angrily. “They don’t care about that; the patient doesn’t need an OBGYN. They need a Doctor. We two are it for her!!” House shouted at Wilson.

“Okay,” Wilson took a deep breath, he knew House was right.

House looked at Wilson. They washed their hands with antiseptic alcohol; the people were watching, every single one of them, waiting for what would happen.

The doctors and the nurse prepped the woman for childbirth. The only available thing was ketamine and morphine; they couldn’t risk giving her morphine because she’s still pregnant. “Scalpel?” House asked, and Cecile gave him the instrument.

The moment House opened the woman, everybody was on bated breath. Wilson got the baby’s umbilical cord and cut it; while the husband was holding his wife’s hand. “Its a boy,” House announced. “You have a son,” He told the father.

As soon as Wilson handed the baby to his father, “We still have no name for you, little man.” He cooed in Tagalog. “Doctor Wilson, what is your name?”

Wilson blinked, surprised; he was happy. In this place, at this time, a baby was born. “James, why?”

“Gregory James Sumaya,” The man announced; House and Wilson smiled despite their tiredness.

GH/JW

Two days later, Anderson Cooper got hold of the video of GJ’s birth and wanted to interview them. Wilson was skeptical, but House was downright dismissive; but as Mabalacad pointed out, they needed supplies. They had to agree.

Anderson Cooper came from Manila to Liliw to interview the doctors that save a mother and his child in a church. They sat outside the church; when Cooper asked his first question. “Dr. House, Dr. Wilson, what brought you here?”

House shuffled his long chestnut hair; he really needed a haircut.
“We were on a working vacation, and the storm happens, so we decided to go here to volunteer.”

“Dr. Wilson,” Cooper said. “In the video, we see you and Dr. House arguing about the treatment, I know that you two work together, I had noticed your hands,” Cooper glanced pointedly to House and Wilson’s hands; there were intertwined. “How to make a working relationship work between you two?”

“In Princeton, we were both heads our own departments; We are equals at work. That kinda helps our working relationship, none of us was each other's boss.”

“We talked to the parents,” Cooper said. “Ellie and Andrew, that they name the baby after you both; ‘Gregory James’ and they were thankful that you heard them arguing, How does it feel?”

House shrugged. “I don’t know, it’s good, I guess…” He had a problem with expressing his emotions with words, which was a byproduct of his autism.

Wilson knew that House was having dificulty with that particular question. “We were happy for them, and that GJ was fine, too.”

Both House and Wilson frowned with that statement. “ Oh, We were just doing our jobs,” House said; for House becoming a doctor meant one thing solving the hardest cases and saving people’s lives,

“Yeah,” Wilson second House’s sentiment.

Cooper asked one more question; this one was directed at House. “Your reputation in the medical community is that of an uncaring doctor, but this would change this?

House smirked. “You can wait and see, Cooper.”

GH/JW

The next week was fraught with the same things that you might say was boring. The disaster adrenaline was starting to wane; search and rescue became search and retrieval as the days wore on.

House was hoping and dreading for something to come up. He doesn’t know. He and Wilson were staying at a smallish resort on the outskirts of Liliw. The radio near the bed sounded; he picked it up. “House, over.”

“Dammit, There is an outbreak of cholera, or that was what the Ministry of Health was saying, over.” Patrick Jensen said, from Doctors without Borders. “Can you come?"

End Of Chapter 7

Chapter Text

They were at the resort; it was nine in the morning, and they were swimming. House was sitting in the edge of the pool; while Wilson was inside. There was no guest except them. The resort was on outside of Liliw.

There was no cell signal, so they were using radio and satellite phones. It had been a week since the super typhoon; the adrenaline of the past few days was wavering. People were settling into a world where there was no help.

They had decided to stay in Liliw for the foreseeable future. They had called Cuddy and told her that they would be taking a sabbatical leave. She wasn’t happy about it; instead, she was resigned.

Since the call Cuddy, they had been staying in a small resort. It was old, but there is a pool, and it was dirt cheap. House wanted to get a tricycle, Wilson said no House sulked for two days. They would probably be renting a small cottage later.

The two-way radio sounded in House’s hand. “House, over!!”

The man on the radio was Patrick Jensen from Doctors without Borders, who knew House from Katrina and wasn’t put off by his rudeness and arrogant behavior. “Dammit! There is an outbreak of cholera, or that was what the Ministry of Health was saying. Can you come over; and take a look at them; over.”

House glanced towards Wilson, who had seen him talk on his walkie-talkie. “Greg, Who is that?” House was standing up from where he was seated.

House stopped on his tracks, “Pat Jensen, We have a case?” He told Wilson, while he went to their room.

“Greg, what case?”

House explained about the cholera outbreak, and that Jensen didn’t believe it was, “we have a case, come on, Jimmy, could be interesting.”

They took a trike to the national high school; It was being used as a shelter for people whose homes were destroyed. They had been there two days ago; House played chess with some of the kids, winning some and losing more. House liked kids, less judgment; In fact, in Princeton, House would visit his pediatric patients more than his adult ones.

It was a bit damp outside; the landslide hadn’t been cleared yet. Of
course, there had another storm.

The had arrived at the national high school an hour later, because of the traffic. House extracted his body first, taking in the situation; when you’re poor, you don’t get anything. Wilson followed him in the school.

As soon as they went inside, Patrick, a white man with grey hair and blue eyes, in his fifties approached them. “Hi, Greg,” He shook House’s hand.

“My partner, Dr. James Wilson, an oncologist, and a surgeon,” House said, as an introduction;. Patrick shook Wilson’s hand.

“Pat, What happened here?” House said, moving towards the entrance of the school.

Four hundred people are staying here, and a kid had defecated three times yesterday. After maybe three hours later, ten other people had voided five times.” Patrick said while they walk from the entrance.

“This will be a long-ass day,” House muttered, looking at the school; guitar bag on his left hand; cane on his right.

As soon as they came inside, House and Wilson saw the devastation. These are the people; who have nowhere to go. They were people on the floor with mats and cots.

Jensen led inside a white tent; the tent was characteristic of all DWB tent. “Jensen?” House asked. “Where is the kid?”

“He is in the iso room,” Jensen said, guiding them to the isolation room.

House examined the boy, what he saw dismayed him. The boy Derick was three, he was feverish. “Dr. Jensen, do we have a monitor?” House asked.

"It's broken, tomorrow will have a new one being delivered from Manila.”

“Okay.”

“What meds is he on?” House asked, observing the boy.

Jensen shrugged. “The usual, IV Furazolidone.”

House was dubious, “How long was he on it? Did you test the water?”

Jensen looked at House with dismay. “No, on both fronts.” He shook his head. “The president had a hold on medications, even from us.”

“What?”

Jensen snorted. “Have you watch any news lately?” When they both shook his head. “The palace is sticking to its story.” Jensen handed him a newspaper.

House and Wilson read the headline. ‘Despite experts pointing out, Duterte wanted to ignore them.’ They were both shocked. “Idiot,” House said. “I can contact Edward Voglar for you. my dad had connections in the arm forces, we could get medications here.” House went to the little boy.

Wilson observed at House; he was glancing back at the boy, observing. The boy was awake; House was playing pick-a-boo with his. The boy was laughing and giggling. Wilson was delighted that his Greg was happy.

Wilson loved his partner like this; nobody knew House like this. If they only knew. However, he knew why House was acting obnoxious, it’s better they think you’re an asshole than to be pitied.

House looked at Wilson. He knew not to touch; while they were in public. At the moment. House glanced towards him, and their eyes met, it was a promise of things to come. He smiled.

“Is your stomach hurting, Derick?” House asked speaking in Tagalog so that the patient can understand. The boy nodded. House palpated the boy's abdomen. “Jensen?” House shouted. “You realized this isn’t cholera?” House said, triumph in his voice.

“Yes, Greg, I know.”

“Dr. Jensen, there were another four people.” A nurse popped in.

Patrick put his right hand on his face, “Dammit.” He said, looking at House, “God, this is worse, we have no meds for Typhoid, Greg.”

House looked at Jensen from examining a woman. “I can call my father and bypass the government.” He needed to play nice with his marine general father, who he knew, was very disappointed in him for marrying a man, “Also I could call Edward Vogler.”

“Thank you, Greg.”

House removed his gloves, and pick up Patrick’s satellite phone on the table. He dialed his father’s number. John. “Gregory?” He said, his voice a mixture of relief and that familiar sadness House had heard ever since, he told them he and Wilson were dating.

“Yes, Listen, Dad, I really need a favor.”

“Could you first tell me; how are you two doing?” John House asked worriedly. “Your mother and Oma were worried, Greg.”

“We’re fine, Dad.” He could hear his father’s sigh of relief. “Now, the favor.”

“What is it, Rory?”

House frowned with the utterance of his childhood nickname. “I would like you to call whoever is that was handling the US operations here; tell them to bring meds in Liliw Laguna for Typhoid.”

“Why?”

“Duterte is denying DWB meds and all; he wanted a blanket statement about Cholera being the culprit. We need meds for Typhoid, Dad, people are dying.” House said, and he was begging. “I am paying for it, for meds and shipping.”His latest textbook, The Science of Diagnostic Deduction was doing really well, the money would just go to taxes anyway.

“Okay, I’ll make some calls.” His father sounded resign. “Stay safe, son; my regards to Jimmy.”

“Is that John?” Wilson said with a grin.

“Oh shut it, Jimmy,” House said, resuming his checking of the woman. “Yes, I called my father!”

“What?” Wilson asked jokingly.

“You heard me, James. I don’t need to say it over.” House said bitterly.

“Alright,” He doesn’t understand sarcasm; Wilson thought, “Sorry, House.” He was an idiot. “Just joking.”

House nodded, resuming with his duties. House looked to the kid, Derick was having trouble breathing. He went to the kid. Derick’s lips were blue, cyanosis, his medical mind supplied. “Need help here!!” He bellowed, pressing his lips into the child’s mouth, trying to breathe for him.

Jensen came over after fifteen minutes of House pressing his lips, trying to breathe for the boy. “Dr. House, time of death.”

House looked at Jensen angrily but compiled. He looked at the kid and to his watch. “5:43 PM. He said solemnly; run outside. “Dammit,” he knew to expect the worse, as a doctor, he knew to expect this. However, it was still hard; point being, he hated losing a child patient.

He left the tent with his guitar on hand; he sat on the ground and started playing, a Beatles song, Mother Nature Son. The melody was simple and beautiful; it was written while The Beatles were at their India phase. House lost himself for two minutes.

When he opened his eyes, Wilson and a two dozen people were watching him. The people were all clapping and cheering. He rolled his eyes. “Any request, Guys?” House said. “English only.”

Wilson was the first one to request, “Bryan Adams, Everything I Do, I Do it For You.”

House rolled his eyes, “Sappy choice, Dr. Wilson.” However, he sang the song wonderfully. House doesn’t like singing in front of a crowd, it was like baring his soul. In the group with these people, it was more than okay.

Wilson’s requested song ended, then there was another song by Queen; Crazy Little thing called Love.

All and all he sang twenty songs in three hours. After his in-impromptu concert, he left the shelter that day with a sense of contentment.

End of Chapter 8

Chapter Text

Notes: Sorry, guys, for the late update. On 26th, one of my heroes died, Kobe Bryant, it was pretty devastating. I just watched Kobe games, during my free time last week. Don't worry, guys I am back!! this story has two chapters to go.

The medicine is vague in this chapter because i am not a doctor.

GH/JW

House and Wilson stayed in Laguna for a couple of weeks after the super typhoon. House loved working in the Philippines; he loved the people; people loved him as well. Perhaps because in the nonjudgmental world, he was just a doctor, not an autistic doctor.

One time the kids were playing basketball, House during his downtime, he walked towards the kids; and played some pick-up game despite the hypotonia. Another time, House was doing a minor procedure with a teenager and began talking to the kid about the NBA. Unlike lots of people on the spectrum, House was well versed in the sport; growing up, he used that to fit in at school.

Today, they were doing a medical mission in Infanta Quezon, the nearest province from Laguna. When House noticed Wilson grew paler. They had decided on a six-month contract with DWB. Wilson was examining a patient, a man in his thirties. “Dr. Wilson, a word, please,” House said; Wilson held out his hand. “Stat.”

“Why?” Wilson asked. House saw his partner’s questioning expression.

House dragged Wilson outside the tent. “Are you serious? You’re sick, James.” House shouted, drawing looks from the crowd gathered around the basketball court where the medical mission was taking place.

“No, I am not,” Wilson said. House’s blue eyes shot daggers into Wilson, with such ferocity that Wilson started to cave in. “All right, I am not feeling okay.”

House touched his forehead. “Since when are you running a fever?” He yelled. House knew; that Wilson would be lying. “Don’t lie to me, James.”

Wilson didn’t know what to say; he looked at Greg and at the crowd gathered around. “Last night, I took a pill before going to bed.”

“Are you kidding me, are you freaking kidding me?” House yelled, not caring about the people that we're watching them.

“Greg, Why are you angry?”

“Why?” House was on a rampage. “Why do you think? You idiotic perp, you might have contracted dengue or some other disease.” House saw Wilson’s understanding broke in his partner’s face.

“Okay, What do you want me to do?” Wilson said, putting his arms around House’s shoulders.

“Just slow down and take care of yourself,” House said, kissing him on the lips. People hummed and whistled.

“Greg, people.”

GH/JW

A day and a half later, Wilson’s condition started to worsen. As they were at home (at a hotel room) on their day off. Wilson got up and got to the bathroom. House heard him vomiting, he got up as well. “Jimmy? you okay?” House asked, looking at Wilson severely. Wilson straightens, he looked over at him. He didn’t answer. “Let me take you to the tent.”

Wilson wanted to protest; however, a look from House stopped him. Instead, he stood up and got to his feet, but he swayed and fell down. House’s doctorly instincts kick in. He walked calmly to Wilson, dragged him to his feet.

They walked outside in the blistering heat, with the cane on his right hand and Wilson on his left. They were slow. House checked in on Wilson every couple of moments.

The walked took a couple of minutes; As soon as they were inside the tent, Patrick Jensen saw them. “Thirty-nine-year-old male, fever and chills vomited twice in the hotel room.” Jensen guided the two men inside a booth.

“Greg, you have an idea what this is?” Jensen asked after he checked Wilson out for a while.

“I got no idea what this is,” House said, looking at him. “Maybe it is dengue or something else.”

Jensen knew not to anger him. “Okay.” The older man led House to a makeshift lab. “Okay, We need you now.”

“I need to be with James,” House said.

Jensen knew to distract him, because if he didn’t, House would interfere with Wilson’s care. “I have a patient for you.” House furrowed his brow as if he wanted to protest, but he shot his mouth.

House followed Jensen to a curtained off area. A kid was on the gurney; the boy was unconscious, intracranial pressure., his brilliant mind supplied. “I am not a surgeon, I need to go to see James.”

“Greg?” Jensen said, looking at House. “No, I know you’re not a surgeon, but James doesn't need you interfering with his care."

House was indignant. However, he knew Jensen was right. He “Okay, text me if James woke up.” Jensen left him to see the boy. “Hi, my name is Dr. Greg House.” He said in Tagalog.

“Dr. House?” The mother asked. “Can you help him.”

“I’ll do everything I can, mom.” He promised, the lilting Tagalog words resonated in the small room. This place was making me soft. House thought.

“Dr. House, do something, please.”

He shooed the woman out, assessing Koby. “Dammit. I need a nurse in one.” House said, seconds later, a nurse in scrabs entered.

House looked at Koby. “Hi, My name is Dr. Gregory House, Koby.” Does this hurt? He pressed his thumb on the child’s head. Koby didn’t react. “Dammit, nurse. We need to vacate the inter-cranial pressure.” The nurse blink at him, “STAT,” House said, glaring at her. “Get Jensen.” House needed to get a hold of himself; he was getting irritated.

Five minutes later, Jensen entered the curtain area. “Greg? What’s wrong?”

"I am not a surgeon,” House admitted, it was a hard admission for him to make.

Jensen sighed. “Greg, I can take him. If you want, but if you can assist.”

He thought about it for a while, and he shook his head. "Just send Cecile." They arranged the bed for the draining procedure. They were ten doctors and fifteen nurses, while Wilson was out, they were nine. They were completely understaffed.

“Okay,” Jensen said.

Cecile came in the curtain area. “Dr. House? How can I help you?” She said sarcastically.

House answered, though not understanding the sarcasm. “You can help with Koby here.”

“Ah… Okay, then. Dr. House, care to tell me what happened?”

House looked at her, but he agreed. “Okay, I got a hunch about his mother.”

“About what?” Cecile asked.

“Koby was being abused,” House said. “The mother knew about that; she was obviously hiding, or she was hiding someone.”

“Oh…” Cecile suddenly asked. “Do I call need to DSWD?”

“Social work?” House asked, looking at her.

“Yes.” Cecile looked at him. She helped House with the boys head; House got the drill from its case.

“Should I call social work first?” House asked the nurse.

The nurse looked at him in bewilderment, she blinked at him. She knew he has autism, Wilson told her, but she never put that against him. “Dr. House, do the surgery first.”

“Okay,” House said, getting the drill from underneath, soaking the barrel on antiseptic alcohol. He put the drill on top Koby’s head and start draining.

GH/JW

After the intracranial pressure drained from Koby’s head and his patient was in recovery bay. House visited Wilson in the ward; his partner was awake looking at him. “Greg?”

“Yes, I am here.” He sat by Wilson’s side.

“What’s wrong with me?” Wilson asked in his fevered state. “Greg?”

House sighed and held Wilson's hand in his. “I don’t know, I have a working hypothesis, though. Don’t worry, Jimmy.”

Wilson looked at him. “Why? What happened to the Greg I love.” He said.

House frowned. “What does that mean, James.”

“You aren’t yourself. You should have…” Wilson said accusingly.

House cut him off and was now angry. He knew that this was the fever talking, but he can’t help it. “I saw a kid being abused, God. Not saw... You know what I mean. Jensen distracted me from you.” House glanced down at the catheter bag. “Nurse?” House shouted.

Wilson was alarmed. “What is it?”

“Shit, this isn’t good,” House said, looking at Wilson. “Bloody urine, Jensen!!” House shouted. A couple of moments later, Jensen entered the curtain area. “This is dengue. “ House said, looking at his colleague.

The days that follow were tiring for House. He didn’t go back to the motel room. He sat at Wilson’s bedside during the day; while working at night. He was annoyed at the world, at one point he almost called his father he wants to go home. However, he didn’t do it; he was scared the general would be disappointed in him.

The second day, House had prayed. He was an atheist and he prayed; this was the love of his life. Maybe if there was a god, he would hear mere mortals. He just wanted to cover all of his bases.

On the fourth day, Wilson’s stats improved, House hoped that this was the end of the worst. His kidneys were working, and according to the monitor and Jensen.

On the fifth day, Wilson was talking to him. “Greg?” He said. “I miss you, babe."

House breathed a sigh of relief. “God, James, I was so friggin’ worried for you,” House said, kissing Wilson on his lips.

Wilson looked at him puzzled.

House said, “Jimmy,” and he cried and cried and cried. The dam burst out. “I thought you are going to die.”

“Greg? Come here, babe.” Wilson hugged House tightly.

“I thought you were going to die.” He cried into Wilson’s shoulder. “I had considered calling the General to go home.”

Wilson frowned, He knew that House wanted to be seen as strong. “God, I love you so much.” And that admission had cost him a lot.

End of Chapter 9

Chapter Text

I am sorry for the lateness of this update.

Wilson was discharged a couple of days later; House was still worried and was very overbearing. He checked on Wilson for almost an hour. They were at the motel watching Television after the week they had

“Stop it!” Wilson had said. “Greg, you scaring me.” House was looking at him worriedly.

“What? You almost died, Jimmy.” House said, why should I explained this sometimes. Wilson was so dense sometimes.

House had bought a tricycle, all though he can’t ride in the Philippines or elsewhere for that matter, He ride that trike everywhere; sometimes picking up passengers.

It was getting to the Christmas season; House hated Christmas in the US because it was a boring holiday. However, he and Wilson would be spending Christmas in Pampanga with Gabby and Nick; that was nice, he supposed.

They returned to work after a week of riding the trike and watching crap TV.

As soon as they were back in, there was a man brought with vomiting the main charge. House ran a toxicity screen, nothing amiss. “Hi, Mr?” He got the patient chart from underneath the bed. “Rodrigo, did you ate something unusual?” He was speaking in Tagalog.

Rodrigo is a man in his thirties who looked at House and shook his head. “No.” He said, confused as to why a white man speaking in Tagalog.

House seemingly making a decision. “I know that man is your partner,” House said in hushed slow tones, a point at the outside the curtain area. The patient looked at him with a look a-kin to fright, wanting to speak. He said. “You are not in trouble, Mr. Rodrigo.” He reassured, he then got his phone from his cargo pant pocket; he turned the phone screen on. “That’s my husband, Dr. James Wilson.”

The patient eyes widen in surprise and sadness. “Yes, that is my partner, I am stuck, Dr. House. I can’t get out of here. I have a wife, a family.” He sighed. “I can’t get away.”

House looked at his patient in the eye; he really wasn’t good with emotion. “I know,” He was well aware that not all gay people were lucky to be in a country that gave the same rights to gay people.”

The patient was sweating. “Mr. Rodrigo…” House was shouting because his patient was having trouble breathing. “I need atropine, stat.” The first person arrived: Wilson and Cecile.

Cecile gave a syringe of atropine. At this point, House was doing CPR.

“Time of death, Greg.”

“No,” House said; Wilson needed to take him away from his patient. He looked at his smartwatch, “Thirteen Thirty-eight. I need to do an autopsy, don’t call his wife, Wilson.”

“Why?’ Wilson asked, looking at him.

House breathed a sigh of annoyance. “I think he was murdered.”

“Dr. House, medicolegal will have him,” Cecile said.

House crossed his arm, thinking about it. “Oh, I just want a skin sample, and it’s there’s.”

“Why?”

House was looking at the patient’s body, now. “Look at him.” He directed the words at Wilson.

“What?”

House sighed and said like he was explaining something to an idiot. “Look at the skin, puffy,” He points at Rodrigo’s skin. “There are spots, Its heavy metal poisoning.”

Wilson and Cecile looked taken aback. “Arsenic poisoning?” The nurse asked.

“Yes, no, maybe,” House said.

“Greg, you think he had been murdered?” Wilson asked.

“Yes,” House sighed, thinking of what to do. “Where’s the man that came with him?”

“He went outside.” The nurse said.

“Go and get him.”

A couple of moments later, a man in his mid-thirties entered the booth. “You're his partner.” House deduced, the man nodded his head. “I am sorry for your loss, do you know he has a wife?” The man looked at him incredulously and cried in House’s shoulder.

“Sorry, I love him so much, I don’t have a calm with him.”

Wilson and Cecile looked at him, his partner smiled. ‘I am very proud of you.’ He implied but not speak.

“What is his wife’s occupation?” House said.

“Ah… they are both chemists, in a lab.” The man said in Tagalog.

House looked at Wilson, with the satisfaction of proving himself right. “Ah, right. I need to call the cops.” House told Wilson. “I think her wife killed Adam.”The partner said and started to cry, House hugged the man.

“I need to check on the labs,” House said, walking away.

A day later, House looked at from the microscope at the makeshift lab. His undergrad was in chemistry and physics, but he was stumped, he knew. There were only three heavy metals in a standard test, mercury, lead, and arsenic. He knew that that wasn’t it because it’s too easy.

He had acquired his patient and his wife's medical files this morning. “The wife has kidney problems, I am an idiot, Damm me.”

Wilson was standing next to him; his shift has ended already and waiting for him to go home. “Aluminum poisoning.”

“I told you it’s the wife,” House said.

“Good job, Greg,” Wilson said, helping House pack his things.

------

A couple of days later, House sat on the small kitchen table with Wilson sitting beside him. It was their day off, House was bored. He was playing his guitar so hard that the strings broke.

Wilson looked up from where he was seated. He got the martin from House, gave him his cane instead. "Let's go for a walk. You look bored."

“To where?” House protested, but he stood up and got his shoes.

They walked from the motel room to the road. “What?” House was iterated as they entered the 7-11 convenience store.

Wilson sighed. “Just wait and see, Greg.” However, he smiled.

They bought food: candy, banana, rice bowls, and drinks. As they were leaving 7-11, they were people who stood in the threshold selling swim goggles. Wilson asked for its price and when they agreed after a bit of heckling, House said, “We’re going to the beach.”

Wilson smiled, "Yes."

They hired a trike for a bit of money; House was unable to ride there own. House rode in the driver's side while Wilson inside. House was chatting with the driver as usual.

Ten minutes later, he was paying for the trike, He followed House who got out of the motorcycle as fast as his hypotonic legs could carry him. “Greg, wait.” House stopped after near the entrance to the resort.

They settled the day bags on the sand with a blue Star Wars towel on the ground. It was a beautiful day, the sun shines so bright and clear skies bounced down to the clear blue sea.

They both sat on the towel in a semi-secluded area so as not to be seen by people. As they were making out like teenagers, kissing each other.

Sometime later, House spoke first. “I don’t want to go home. It had been a good couple of months.”

Wilson knew that this would be a conversation for the ages. He knew House was contented. “I know, as far I am concern you were happy. I love that. You know, We can always come back."

House intertwined his fingers with Wilson. “You know what, Jimmy, I would want every year. I want to go here to unwind from Princeton.”

“We can always come back,” murmured Wilson again. “I have grown to love this place.”

“Why?” House asked, the curiosity evident in his face.

Wilson looked ahead, the beautiful beach, immaculate sand bright, with its inhabitants. House could probably know everything about them; he chuckled.

“That one, House said pointing at a woman with a dark complexion. Was a nurse from Australia with an Australian, husband.”

“How do you know?” Wilson asked while playing the sand.

House shrugged looking at her. “She was wearing a shark necklace and she talking on the phone, and her phone was off the Sidney Opera House with her parents, who went to Australia to visit, because there is a visa, for Filipino’s to go to Australia. " Wilson knew that House’s deductive skills were a gift to behold.

He also knew that House loved being here because of the pressure he was in to stay or be normal. The Philippines, he loved dearly. In Princeton, House just revered for his medical prowess but hated by peers. House was very disheartened by the whole situation in Princeton. He would show his displeasure by being an ass. Inside House was hurting. the only one who could see that was Wilson.

As they were packing to leave the beach, House gave Wilson a hugged and said. “Thank you.”

End of Chapter 10

Chapter Text

December

It was the eve before Christmas eve, House and Wilson were in Gabby’s house in Pampanga. The province wasn’t hit much; by Super Typhoon Hannah, unlike the CALABARZON area or Bicol region.

They were playing with their godson Nick. The Thirteen-year-old was just confirmed catholic; Nick chose them to be his godparents, and they agreed to the detriment of the church.

House thought that it would be fun to get his godson a guitar. Gabby told him when he asked that Nick loved playing piano and was pestering her for an electric guitar. The kid was a natural at it.

They had a medical mission just after New Year's; therefore, they would be leaving Nick and Gaby. Nick wasn’t happy. Gaby instead promised Nick that he would be going to America after the school year, and House and Wilson agreed to host them.

The next morning, House woke up, to Wilson and Gabby was preparing the midnight dinner (Noche Buena). Gabby’s family would be there tonight to celebrate the holiday. “Good morning, guys, where’s Nick?” he asked.

“Still sleeping, you know teenagers,” Gabby said, and she chuckled.

“I want to take him to see the new Star Wars. If you want, Gabby.”

Gabby looked at him with a grateful sigh. “Yes, he has begging me to take him.” Wilson chuckled, “Also he would be on my hair.” House smiled.

After an hour, Gabby woke Nick up. When Nick saw House, he bounded to him and hugged him. “Thank you. I’ve meaning to watch the Rise of the Skywalker.”

House didn’t like being hugged and even hugged back. “Your welcome, Nick.” He pulled back. “Hurry up; Star Wars starts at eleven.”

“Thank you, Greg,” Gabby said when Nick got out of earshot.

*~*~*

They left Wilson and Gabby at home and went to SM Angeles. The mall wasn’t busy except for the supermarket, which had heavy lines for last-minute shopping.

“Can I borrow five hundred pesos.? ’ll pay for it when we get back home, I just want to buy a gift for mama,” Nick asked abruptly, at the payout counter.

House grinned, looking at Nick. “Be fast, Nick. I don’t want to be hereafter three, understand?” Nicholas bowed his head in acknowledgment

House had his noise-canceling headphones in his backpack; while Nick had a fidget spinner on his hand. They entered the theater with popcorns and coca-cola cops. Nick was following House, who sat at the back row.

The film was so-so for a Star Wars film. House thought, but his godson loved it. Growing up, he was obsessed with the first three films, to the point of his father took the VHS tapes and threw it out. The original trilogy was still amazing, in his opinion.

The film ended, House and Nick left the theater. He was already wearing his noise-canceling headphones on, so he hadn’t need to put his it on.

They bought the gift for Gabby; House told Nick that he wouldn’t let him pay for it. They took a grab car to the house.

Gabby’s home was a townhouse. There were people inside the house; Wilson summoned them from the garage door.

“You ought to say hi to Gabby’s mom,” Wilson told House while walking inside the side door.

House with Wilson and Nick behind greeted the elderly lady. She kissed him on the cheeks. “Greg… Blythe’s son?”

“Yes…” House said, pulling away to hugged Gabby. “Your son had a gift for you.” He whispered.

The party had started already. House sat with the kids on the ‘kids table’ with Gabby’s niece and nephews and Nick. He was happy. These people dIdn’t judge him.

They ate dinner first. House sat with the kids While Wilson sat with Gabby and her older relatives talking about their jobs. Wilson stole glances on House every so often. Wilson smiled to himself; House looked good with these kids.

House and Wilson joined Gabby to church. Wilson knew that he was an agnostic, but he would go to church sometimes on Christmas with his parents under duress.

At midnight, they opened presents. House and Wilson gave Nick a ukulele. House gifted him a bottle of lambanog and a Nike polo shirt with the flag of the Philippines. He gave House a Barrel Man, a popular souvenir, the thing is made off of a wooden figure of a man encased by a wooden barrel, and when you lift the barrel off, the man's penis opened up.

“It's for your office in Princeton,” Wilson said between laughs.

“Thank you,” House said sincerely.

Nick and Gabby gave them bamboo hamper basket and a gift check for SM department stores, it was awesome they got to shop at the mall. House was so grateful for them.

*~*~*

House and Wilson left Pampanga after New Year's Day. They went back to work in a county hospital for the indigenous people, in Zambales a province of central Luzon.

One day a boy was brought with obvious autism the child was shackled and bleeding.

House cheeked to the youngster. He blanched; Filipinos were not ignoring, but he supposed that the parents were doing what the best they could do for their son. House supposed.

“Fever, cold sweats and bruising,” He told Wilson after examining the patient.

“Leukemia,” Wilson suggested while they were out of earshot. “God.”

“Umm.,” House said. “Yes, I know. I know, meaning the kid couldn’t recover from this.”

In the end, the boy had leukemia. House helped the family with the boy's transfer; he also gave the family money. The family came from the indigenous group, the Aeta. The Aeta came from Africa, who walked from the Subsaharan during the ice age.

They worked in Zambales until late; February with Doctors without borders. House was ecstatic to be working in this environment; because as he told Wilson every day, he felt accepted.

Weeks went on; they left Doctors without Borders on the 27th Jensen was very happy telling House that they were pleased to meet them.

They headed to go hitchhiking all around Luzon. The trek wasn’t a problem because they stoped every time House was tired. One day they were in a cafe in the middle of Baguio City. “Thank you for this, Jimmy. I know it was hard for you, staying here.”

Wilson smiled. “Not a problem, Greg. I love seeing you happy. You’re happy here, right?”

House nodded his head, not meeting Wilson’s eyes.

*~*~*

They left the Philippines in mid-March. The plane trip from Manila was traumatic. Wilson tried to get a seat beside him but failed. So House sat alone with a mother and her young child; while Wilson sat on his in the back row. House was wearing a pair of noise-canceling headphones on, it wasn’t helping his other senses being bombarded by the environment.

They got out of the plane after almost eighteen hours of hell. This was the worst thing about traveling for House. Chase fetched them from the airport; Chase and Wilson talked and House listen.

He and Wilson got back to work that three days later, half-day in the afternoons.

*~*~*

Lisa Cuddy was sitting in her office when she saw Dr. James Wilson came into the clinic. She stood up and beckoned him inside. “How’ve you been?

Wilson sat down. “House was amazing this nine months, We would come back in July, to the conference you want him to go last year.”

Cuddy looked at Wilson, and she smiled. “I thought you didn’t want even to come.”

“Yes, Yes, I know. But you don’t know. How House would react.” Wilson sighed. “He was amazing in the Philippines. He was doing the type of medicine he wanted to do.”

Cuddy looked at him incredulously. “House enjoyed it?”

Wilson looked at her mock outrage in his brown eyes. “What do you want me to say, Lisa?”

“In January, In Zambales, House helped an 8-year-old kid. We were with DWB, remember? The kid was an aborigine. House knew the kid had autism; he ended up having Leukemia. House sent them to the hospital and told them it would be pro bono.”

Cuddy looked at him smiling. “He had changed.” She said. “You can go, Dr. Wilson.”

He stood up and left, and meet House outside Cuddy’s office.

The End