Title: An Issue Of Bioethics
Title: An Issue Of Bioethics
Author: Hannah R. Orlove
Fandom: House, MD
Rating: PG
Pairings: None
Notes: Co-writing credit goes to yuna_firerose. Set after “Paternity” and before “Control.” Fanart for this piece, by the superb admyrrek, can be seen here and here.
News in small communities always travels fast. There’s no way to keep anything hidden for long; even personal secrets can be found out if you just ask the right people and put in a little effort. Larger pieces of news don’t need any effort to discover because they’re usually given out for free.
Some commodities aren’t usually news, but every so often, there’s something unusual enough that makes it spread like wildfire.
Ultrasounds at three months are typical. Finding out that you’re going to give birth to a power - a caudate, to be precise - is not.
When the Leavenworths found out, they began to make preparations for the future. So did Wilson.
Everyone in the hospital watched for six months while he talked to them, trying harder and harder to convince them that there was nothing wrong with their baby, that it was going to be fine, that, yes, it would be difficult for him, but he would turn out well, that he was really not going to be different from any other child.
They asked Wilson why he wanted their son Charles to be stared at, ostracized, persecuted, denied opportunities.
Wilson told them Charles was going to have problems if they went through with their plans to get the tail amputated, problems that would outweigh the benefits he would gain. He told them about the powers he knew that were leading good, fulfilling lives, including himself.
He managed to draw a few others into his crusade, but no one else put in as much effort as he did. But then, no one else was as personally tied into the outcome as he was.
Two weeks after Charles was born, he went into the operating room and Wilson didn’t show up for clinic duty. No one went looking for him.
House found him in his office late that afternoon, sitting on his desk, staring at a cold mug full of a dark liquid in his hands. He hadn’t locked the door, but he hadn’t needed to. Everyone seemed to know that he shouldn’t be disturbed.
He watched his friend sit there; even his tail, limply hanging off the side of the desk, was still. For once, House wasn’t the one to break the silence.
“They think they’re fixing him.”
House paused before answering, uncertain if he should. “Yeah. They’re idiots.” Both of them knew the joke was a bad one, and the silence resumed. He was then left without words, and glanced down at the carpet.
It didn’t seem like Wilson had heard him. “One of my earliest memories is asking another kid how he could balance without a tail.”
Hearing Wilson speak made House look back up. “You did all you could,” he said quietly, though his tone was more matter-of-fact than consoling. “We all did.”
“If I’d done all I could he would still…” The tip of his tail began to twitch, and he turned his head to look out the window.
House shook his head, not willing to see his friend mope. “No. That’s not true and you know it. You could have begged them until Hell froze over and it wouldn’t have made any difference.”
“There’s regulations and laws that give us rights, but nothing’s going to change some people’s minds.”
“The…” he couldn’t well call it surgery, “…amputation would have gone on regardless if you -”
“Did you know grade fives are deported from Florida and Hawaii? And that tail docking was mandatory until 1965? It still is in some states.”
House stopped at the question, sighing at his friend’s voice. “Don’t do this to yourself.”
Wilson lifted his shoulders, but a moment later they fell. “If I hadn’t tried, where would I be?” His tail stopped moving. He reached over and put the mug of tea on the desk. “I wouldn’t have been able to look at myself in the mirror.”
The hope that closeness would help him console his friend compelled him forward, off the balcony and into the office. He moved the mug off farther to the side and sat where it had occupied, resting his cane between them. “I talked to them today.”
“Did they say how he’s going to have a better life?”
House had never been one to beat around the bush, especially with all the idiots in the world, but the defeat in Wilson’s voice made him hesitate. “They said he’s going to be normal now. They thought he couldn’t be happy and fulfilled with a tail.”
Wilson’s words came out slowly, then faster. “Even after they cut it off, it’s not going to make him normal. Nothing is. He was designed to have a tail. He’s going to have phantom limb pain and nightmares and he’s going to know that someone did something to him.” He looked up. “He’s probably never going to learn what it was, but he’s going to know. They’re exchanging a few dollars on clothes and stares on the bus for a healthy child.”
He wondered if he should put his arm around Wilson, pull him close and let him rest his head on his shoulder. He didn’t know if he should, if he’d be pushed away or if Wilson would want more than he was willing to give. He did know the pain in his friend’s eyes, pain that wouldn’t be leaving soon. “It was still their decision to make,” he said quietly. “Bitch of a law it is, too, since it steals the will from the child.”
“And of course, by the time he’ll be old enough to make that decision, he wouldn’t take it.”
“What rational human being would voluntarily have their body mutilated?” House offered a slight smile at the question, but the expression didn’t extend to his eyes.
This prompted a small smile from Wilson as well. He looked down at the space between them, wrapped his tail around House’s cane and began to move it up and down in his grip. “Of course, that’s also the argument made against circumcision.”
He continued with a playful tone, the smile encouraging him, as did the quick movements of Wilson’s tail. “In some distant Indian cultures, that would be considered suggestive.”
“Native American or Asian subcontinent?” He stopped and held out the cane for its owner to take.
“I’m thinking Asian, of course.” He placed his hand on his cane but didn’t try to take it yet. “That could be the direct cause of my craving for some beef lo mein.”
Wilson let go of the cane. “I’m not hungry.”
“Well, good. It wasn’t an offer, just a point of fact.”
Wilson didn’t respond immediately, but after a pause, he looked over at the wall and shifted around to touch House’s wrist. His eyebrows went higher at this touch. One of the first things that all the employees of the hospital learned, especially the interns, was that Wilson’s ‘caudal appendage’ was strictly off limits, physically, verbally, and visually. Children stared, and he tended to indulge them, but otherwise people pretended it just wasn’t there.
“You go out and have a good time. I don’t think I’ll be much of a conversationalist tonight.”
House tensed but didn’t move. “I never have a good time doing out. Besides, I was hoping you’d buy. You’re not, so…microwave dinner or cereal? I guarantee it’s the finest cuisine of its type this side of Atlantic City.” His left hand occupied with the tail and holding his cane, his right shifted from resting on the desk to his left leg. Close enough to be noticed, but still far enough away to be ignored.
“For bachelors who can’t work a stove, I’m sure.” The tail lifted up to rest on the desk. “I wouldn’t say no to a soda, though.”
He paused, contemplating the insult to his culinary skills. “I’ll have you know I can boil water, which can lead to such wonderful creations as spaghetti and tomato soup. Did I mention I made a mean grilled cheese?” He shifted his hand closer to the tail’s tip, his middle finger almost barely touching the slight coat of soft fur. “And last I checked, Cuddy didn’t set aside enough money to have a vending machine installed in your office. We’ll have to journey to the oh-so-dreaded cafeteria, I’m afraid.”
Wilson didn’t move. “Do they still have Sprite Remix?”
He shrugged. “I wouldn’t know; Sprite’s always been your thing. I’m a loyal Coke drinker. It’s got that wonderful kick - better than coffee for starting your day. Sweeter, too.” The hand moved closer, three fingertips resting hesitantly on the tail’s tip, ready to dart away if any sign was given that they were unwelcome.
The tail stayed still. “And yet you were completely ga-ga over Pepsi Blue the four months we had it.”
“You know, there’s just nothing like telling a patient he has hemorrhoids while sporting a bright blue tongue. Besides, I was able to scare Cuddy by drinking it from a Windex bottle.” He hesitated briefly before inching his hand further up and gently caressed a small bit of the tail with his index and middle fingers.
Wilson took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Now that you mention it, that does sound fun.” He closed his eyes. “I wish I’d had the chance to try it out.”
House glanced from Wilson’s intake of breath to his tail. He didn’t need to ask if the two were connected. “A pity.” He lifted his hand further up, a few inches from the tip, and ran his fingers down its length.
A slight tremor ran through the tail, and it lay still again.
“Is this helping?” The answer was obvious. The tone he used meant the question itself was closer to, ‘Do you want me to keep going?’ He repeated the motion.
Wilson closed his eyes. “Yes.”
He wondered if he should remind Wilson about the proposed venture to the cafeteria, or continue the discussion on culinary skills. He kept stroking instead, quietly watching his friend’s expression.
After a short while, Wilson spoke. “My mother used to do this after I’d had a bad day at school.”
“I’m certain she did a better job of this.” His right hand released the cane to join his left, massaging in tandem.
He shook his head. “I don’t really remember what it was like. It’s been a long time.” He shrugged. “After a while, I just stopped telling her what happened at school, so she stopped doing it. It didn’t seem like there was any point to repeating myself so much.”
“I suppose if you can’t remember then, they weren’t anything to write home to mom about. As the saying goes, that is.” A small smirk accompanied the humor. His hands slid along the tail slowly, one on top and one on the underside.
Wilson didn’t say anything at first. It had been a long time, and he’d never had any reason to think about what it had felt like for someone to touch his tail in ages - it occurred so infrequently now that when it happened, it felt more like an intrusion than a kind gesture. “I asked her for some a couple of years later but she said that I was old enough that I shouldn’t need them anymore.” He half-chuckled as he slipped out of House’s hands. “And then one day the school called, and she wasn’t even willing to consider them anymore.”
If House was bothered by Wilson’s withdraw, he didn’t show it. “You should have told her that she was stunting its proper growth. I’m sure that like the wonderful parent she was, she would have complied.” He paused while he digested the rest of Wilson’s words. “The school called your house?”
Wilson slid off and stepped away from the desk in a single fluid motion. “I was at this assembly…there was this kid who had been grabbing at me the whole time. I told him to stop, and so did the teachers, but he wouldn’t. So the next time he tried, I grabbed him and squeezed, and the next thing I knew he was screaming.” He ran his right hand over his face. “I got suspended for a week for breaking his wrist and my family had to pay his hospital bills. He got nothing.” He shrugged, his tail swishing slowly behind him. “No suspensions, no detentions, nothing.”
“I would say it wasn’t your fault, but it appears judgment has already been passed.” He grabbed a hold of his cane as he followed Wilson’s lead in leaving the desk. “Personally, I’d say the kid deserved every bit of what he got, and I do hope he was in pain. But hey, that’s me. I’m an old meanie like that.”
“Mmm. That’s part of what makes you such a charming person.” He held the door open. “Come on. If we’re going to start reminiscing about harrowing childhood incidents, we might at least do it over coffee.”
“Oh, yes, I’m simply full of charm,” House responded with a touch of mock-arrogance as he walked out of the office. “No wonder the nurses all follow me around. And here I thought it was the hard wood.” He held up his cane at that, then stepped outside of the office. “I’ve been mistaken all this time.”
“Even for you, that’s crude.” James followed, hands in pockets. He slid his tail around the door handle, pulling it closed. “It’ll do you good. You’ll be making quips worthy of The New Yorker in no time.”
House rolled his eyes at that as he continued to the elevators. “Well, if we’re blaming the lack of coffee, it’s not my fault.”
“Actually, it is, because you didn’t get yourself the coffee. If you need it, but didn’t get it, then you are to blame.” He smiled slightly. “Unless you’ve made Chase and Foreman and Cameron into your coffee fetchers.”
“Well, I have to give them something to do on those rare occasions when we don’t have a case. At least Chase and Forman; Cameron answers my mail.” He paused, considering. “Although, given the case with…whatever-his-name-was, I’m not sure if it’s such a good idea anymore.”
“Wasn’t it Daniel?”
“If I knew his name, I would have said it, don’t you think? He’s gone, cured, out of our hair. Therefore, I’ve got no reason to remember it.”
“It could serve as a useful reminder as to why you should take more responsibility in your department,” Wilson responded as they reached the elevator.
They skipped the cafeteria in favor of a local coffee shop where they could also get something to eat that wasn’t mass-produced and reheated umpteen times. House had no problems with the chairs provided; Wilson managed to spot a stool on the other side of the shop from the free table they’d claimed. It was the process of getting it across the room that drew attention to the two abnormal men sitting next to the window.
House began to mix the sugar cubes into his coffee. “Everyone’s looking at us.”
Wilson has his back to the crowd. “And they’re all glancing away as soon as they realize we know they’re looking.” House nodded in agreement as Wilson took a sip of tea. “We make a nice pair, don’t we?”
“How so?”
“Between the two of us, we’ve got the right number of working limbs for two normal people.”
House considered the idea while he sipped his drink, and nodded in agreement. “But who wants to be normal?”
Wilson sighed. “Too many people.”
House poked Wilson’s tail under the table with his cane with a wry smile on his face. “Their loss, then.”
Author: Hannah R. Orlove
Fandom: House, MD
Rating: PG
Pairings: None
Notes: Co-writing credit goes to yuna_firerose. Set after “Paternity” and before “Control.” Fanart for this piece, by the superb admyrrek, can be seen here and here.
News in small communities always travels fast. There’s no way to keep anything hidden for long; even personal secrets can be found out if you just ask the right people and put in a little effort. Larger pieces of news don’t need any effort to discover because they’re usually given out for free.
Some commodities aren’t usually news, but every so often, there’s something unusual enough that makes it spread like wildfire.
Ultrasounds at three months are typical. Finding out that you’re going to give birth to a power - a caudate, to be precise - is not.
When the Leavenworths found out, they began to make preparations for the future. So did Wilson.
Everyone in the hospital watched for six months while he talked to them, trying harder and harder to convince them that there was nothing wrong with their baby, that it was going to be fine, that, yes, it would be difficult for him, but he would turn out well, that he was really not going to be different from any other child.
They asked Wilson why he wanted their son Charles to be stared at, ostracized, persecuted, denied opportunities.
Wilson told them Charles was going to have problems if they went through with their plans to get the tail amputated, problems that would outweigh the benefits he would gain. He told them about the powers he knew that were leading good, fulfilling lives, including himself.
He managed to draw a few others into his crusade, but no one else put in as much effort as he did. But then, no one else was as personally tied into the outcome as he was.
Two weeks after Charles was born, he went into the operating room and Wilson didn’t show up for clinic duty. No one went looking for him.
House found him in his office late that afternoon, sitting on his desk, staring at a cold mug full of a dark liquid in his hands. He hadn’t locked the door, but he hadn’t needed to. Everyone seemed to know that he shouldn’t be disturbed.
He watched his friend sit there; even his tail, limply hanging off the side of the desk, was still. For once, House wasn’t the one to break the silence.
“They think they’re fixing him.”
House paused before answering, uncertain if he should. “Yeah. They’re idiots.” Both of them knew the joke was a bad one, and the silence resumed. He was then left without words, and glanced down at the carpet.
It didn’t seem like Wilson had heard him. “One of my earliest memories is asking another kid how he could balance without a tail.”
Hearing Wilson speak made House look back up. “You did all you could,” he said quietly, though his tone was more matter-of-fact than consoling. “We all did.”
“If I’d done all I could he would still…” The tip of his tail began to twitch, and he turned his head to look out the window.
House shook his head, not willing to see his friend mope. “No. That’s not true and you know it. You could have begged them until Hell froze over and it wouldn’t have made any difference.”
“There’s regulations and laws that give us rights, but nothing’s going to change some people’s minds.”
“The…” he couldn’t well call it surgery, “…amputation would have gone on regardless if you -”
“Did you know grade fives are deported from Florida and Hawaii? And that tail docking was mandatory until 1965? It still is in some states.”
House stopped at the question, sighing at his friend’s voice. “Don’t do this to yourself.”
Wilson lifted his shoulders, but a moment later they fell. “If I hadn’t tried, where would I be?” His tail stopped moving. He reached over and put the mug of tea on the desk. “I wouldn’t have been able to look at myself in the mirror.”
The hope that closeness would help him console his friend compelled him forward, off the balcony and into the office. He moved the mug off farther to the side and sat where it had occupied, resting his cane between them. “I talked to them today.”
“Did they say how he’s going to have a better life?”
House had never been one to beat around the bush, especially with all the idiots in the world, but the defeat in Wilson’s voice made him hesitate. “They said he’s going to be normal now. They thought he couldn’t be happy and fulfilled with a tail.”
Wilson’s words came out slowly, then faster. “Even after they cut it off, it’s not going to make him normal. Nothing is. He was designed to have a tail. He’s going to have phantom limb pain and nightmares and he’s going to know that someone did something to him.” He looked up. “He’s probably never going to learn what it was, but he’s going to know. They’re exchanging a few dollars on clothes and stares on the bus for a healthy child.”
He wondered if he should put his arm around Wilson, pull him close and let him rest his head on his shoulder. He didn’t know if he should, if he’d be pushed away or if Wilson would want more than he was willing to give. He did know the pain in his friend’s eyes, pain that wouldn’t be leaving soon. “It was still their decision to make,” he said quietly. “Bitch of a law it is, too, since it steals the will from the child.”
“And of course, by the time he’ll be old enough to make that decision, he wouldn’t take it.”
“What rational human being would voluntarily have their body mutilated?” House offered a slight smile at the question, but the expression didn’t extend to his eyes.
This prompted a small smile from Wilson as well. He looked down at the space between them, wrapped his tail around House’s cane and began to move it up and down in his grip. “Of course, that’s also the argument made against circumcision.”
He continued with a playful tone, the smile encouraging him, as did the quick movements of Wilson’s tail. “In some distant Indian cultures, that would be considered suggestive.”
“Native American or Asian subcontinent?” He stopped and held out the cane for its owner to take.
“I’m thinking Asian, of course.” He placed his hand on his cane but didn’t try to take it yet. “That could be the direct cause of my craving for some beef lo mein.”
Wilson let go of the cane. “I’m not hungry.”
“Well, good. It wasn’t an offer, just a point of fact.”
Wilson didn’t respond immediately, but after a pause, he looked over at the wall and shifted around to touch House’s wrist. His eyebrows went higher at this touch. One of the first things that all the employees of the hospital learned, especially the interns, was that Wilson’s ‘caudal appendage’ was strictly off limits, physically, verbally, and visually. Children stared, and he tended to indulge them, but otherwise people pretended it just wasn’t there.
“You go out and have a good time. I don’t think I’ll be much of a conversationalist tonight.”
House tensed but didn’t move. “I never have a good time doing out. Besides, I was hoping you’d buy. You’re not, so…microwave dinner or cereal? I guarantee it’s the finest cuisine of its type this side of Atlantic City.” His left hand occupied with the tail and holding his cane, his right shifted from resting on the desk to his left leg. Close enough to be noticed, but still far enough away to be ignored.
“For bachelors who can’t work a stove, I’m sure.” The tail lifted up to rest on the desk. “I wouldn’t say no to a soda, though.”
He paused, contemplating the insult to his culinary skills. “I’ll have you know I can boil water, which can lead to such wonderful creations as spaghetti and tomato soup. Did I mention I made a mean grilled cheese?” He shifted his hand closer to the tail’s tip, his middle finger almost barely touching the slight coat of soft fur. “And last I checked, Cuddy didn’t set aside enough money to have a vending machine installed in your office. We’ll have to journey to the oh-so-dreaded cafeteria, I’m afraid.”
Wilson didn’t move. “Do they still have Sprite Remix?”
He shrugged. “I wouldn’t know; Sprite’s always been your thing. I’m a loyal Coke drinker. It’s got that wonderful kick - better than coffee for starting your day. Sweeter, too.” The hand moved closer, three fingertips resting hesitantly on the tail’s tip, ready to dart away if any sign was given that they were unwelcome.
The tail stayed still. “And yet you were completely ga-ga over Pepsi Blue the four months we had it.”
“You know, there’s just nothing like telling a patient he has hemorrhoids while sporting a bright blue tongue. Besides, I was able to scare Cuddy by drinking it from a Windex bottle.” He hesitated briefly before inching his hand further up and gently caressed a small bit of the tail with his index and middle fingers.
Wilson took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Now that you mention it, that does sound fun.” He closed his eyes. “I wish I’d had the chance to try it out.”
House glanced from Wilson’s intake of breath to his tail. He didn’t need to ask if the two were connected. “A pity.” He lifted his hand further up, a few inches from the tip, and ran his fingers down its length.
A slight tremor ran through the tail, and it lay still again.
“Is this helping?” The answer was obvious. The tone he used meant the question itself was closer to, ‘Do you want me to keep going?’ He repeated the motion.
Wilson closed his eyes. “Yes.”
He wondered if he should remind Wilson about the proposed venture to the cafeteria, or continue the discussion on culinary skills. He kept stroking instead, quietly watching his friend’s expression.
After a short while, Wilson spoke. “My mother used to do this after I’d had a bad day at school.”
“I’m certain she did a better job of this.” His right hand released the cane to join his left, massaging in tandem.
He shook his head. “I don’t really remember what it was like. It’s been a long time.” He shrugged. “After a while, I just stopped telling her what happened at school, so she stopped doing it. It didn’t seem like there was any point to repeating myself so much.”
“I suppose if you can’t remember then, they weren’t anything to write home to mom about. As the saying goes, that is.” A small smirk accompanied the humor. His hands slid along the tail slowly, one on top and one on the underside.
Wilson didn’t say anything at first. It had been a long time, and he’d never had any reason to think about what it had felt like for someone to touch his tail in ages - it occurred so infrequently now that when it happened, it felt more like an intrusion than a kind gesture. “I asked her for some a couple of years later but she said that I was old enough that I shouldn’t need them anymore.” He half-chuckled as he slipped out of House’s hands. “And then one day the school called, and she wasn’t even willing to consider them anymore.”
If House was bothered by Wilson’s withdraw, he didn’t show it. “You should have told her that she was stunting its proper growth. I’m sure that like the wonderful parent she was, she would have complied.” He paused while he digested the rest of Wilson’s words. “The school called your house?”
Wilson slid off and stepped away from the desk in a single fluid motion. “I was at this assembly…there was this kid who had been grabbing at me the whole time. I told him to stop, and so did the teachers, but he wouldn’t. So the next time he tried, I grabbed him and squeezed, and the next thing I knew he was screaming.” He ran his right hand over his face. “I got suspended for a week for breaking his wrist and my family had to pay his hospital bills. He got nothing.” He shrugged, his tail swishing slowly behind him. “No suspensions, no detentions, nothing.”
“I would say it wasn’t your fault, but it appears judgment has already been passed.” He grabbed a hold of his cane as he followed Wilson’s lead in leaving the desk. “Personally, I’d say the kid deserved every bit of what he got, and I do hope he was in pain. But hey, that’s me. I’m an old meanie like that.”
“Mmm. That’s part of what makes you such a charming person.” He held the door open. “Come on. If we’re going to start reminiscing about harrowing childhood incidents, we might at least do it over coffee.”
“Oh, yes, I’m simply full of charm,” House responded with a touch of mock-arrogance as he walked out of the office. “No wonder the nurses all follow me around. And here I thought it was the hard wood.” He held up his cane at that, then stepped outside of the office. “I’ve been mistaken all this time.”
“Even for you, that’s crude.” James followed, hands in pockets. He slid his tail around the door handle, pulling it closed. “It’ll do you good. You’ll be making quips worthy of The New Yorker in no time.”
House rolled his eyes at that as he continued to the elevators. “Well, if we’re blaming the lack of coffee, it’s not my fault.”
“Actually, it is, because you didn’t get yourself the coffee. If you need it, but didn’t get it, then you are to blame.” He smiled slightly. “Unless you’ve made Chase and Foreman and Cameron into your coffee fetchers.”
“Well, I have to give them something to do on those rare occasions when we don’t have a case. At least Chase and Forman; Cameron answers my mail.” He paused, considering. “Although, given the case with…whatever-his-name-was, I’m not sure if it’s such a good idea anymore.”
“Wasn’t it Daniel?”
“If I knew his name, I would have said it, don’t you think? He’s gone, cured, out of our hair. Therefore, I’ve got no reason to remember it.”
“It could serve as a useful reminder as to why you should take more responsibility in your department,” Wilson responded as they reached the elevator.
They skipped the cafeteria in favor of a local coffee shop where they could also get something to eat that wasn’t mass-produced and reheated umpteen times. House had no problems with the chairs provided; Wilson managed to spot a stool on the other side of the shop from the free table they’d claimed. It was the process of getting it across the room that drew attention to the two abnormal men sitting next to the window.
House began to mix the sugar cubes into his coffee. “Everyone’s looking at us.”
Wilson has his back to the crowd. “And they’re all glancing away as soon as they realize we know they’re looking.” House nodded in agreement as Wilson took a sip of tea. “We make a nice pair, don’t we?”
“How so?”
“Between the two of us, we’ve got the right number of working limbs for two normal people.”
House considered the idea while he sipped his drink, and nodded in agreement. “But who wants to be normal?”
Wilson sighed. “Too many people.”
House poked Wilson’s tail under the table with his cane with a wry smile on his face. “Their loss, then.”