Trust//House M.D. Fanfiction

Eleven: Misplaced Trust

Hannah was drowsy when she woke up, and the pain in her chest was still there. She was in the hospital - again. 'How lovely,' she thought, and smiled when she realized she was in the same room as she'd been in when she had her first heart failure. Then Hannah noticed a slight pressure on her hand. Turning her head, she saw Wilson smiling back at her.

"Hey," he breathed, relieved she was awake. Hannah smiled back at him weakly.

"Hi," she spoke, her voice croaking a little, since it lacked moisture. Her vision was still hazy, and the room was almost too bright to handle; because of this, Wilson looked as if he was outlined by a glowing white. "How come you're not on a Christmas tree? I thought that's where angels belong."

Wilson laughed at Hannah's cheesy pick-up line, squeezing her hand tighter just for a second. "There's the Hannah I know and love," he said, his smile never failing. Oh, that smile. It always made Hannah feel just week enough in the knees that she'd need a moment to regain her balance; if not physically then mentally.

"So? How am I?" Hannah asked. She didn't want to kill the comedic mood, but there was no way they'd cut to the chase of one of them didn't focus. She noticed Wilson's smile falter.

"Well, first of all, you're lacking some Vitamin Me," he tried, but the time for jokes had passed. Regardless, Hannah smiled weakly and swatted his upper arm playfully with her free hand. The one Wilson was holding was like her lifeline - she couldn't let go, for fear of drifting away.

"Ja-ames." Her response was short, but just enough to get him focused again.

Wilson sighed, weighing his words before speaking them. "Your iron levels are dangerously low. I take it you haven't been taking the supplement?" He let her nod before continuing. "You'll need another couple blood transfusions..." The way he trailed off, Hannah could tell there was something more.

"What else?" Hannah asked sternly, silently willing him to get on with it. His next words sounded like it took a lot of effort. Too much, Hannah noted.

"Your cancer, uh..." he started. "It's returned. However, it's not going to be so easily removed this time."

Hannah looked at him, confused. "Why? What is it?"

"The cancer cells from your colon didn't all come out with the tumor. They eventually spread to your heart and created another tumor. It's nearly impossible to fix, but fortunately we caught it in its early stages and the tumor is only on the external tissues of your heart."

As much as Wilson tried to make her feel better about her deteriorated situation, Hannah felt tears spring to her eyes. There was no avoiding it; she'd have to get the tumor removed. "When's the surgery?" Wilson looked surprised.

"Hannah, how can you just- The risks, the chances of you surviving," Wilson was becoming frantic. He really did care. 'Of course he does,' Hannah scolded herself. 'He told you he loves you after all this time. Besides, he's James Wilson. He's one of the most caring guys there is.'

"I know, James, but if I have even the slightest chance of surviving, I'll take it. There are so many things I need to stay alive for. I mean, you should know that more than anything; you're at the top of the list." It was heartbreaking yet bittersweet, what Hannah said. She'd risk her life to save her life, and she'd do the same for anyone else in an instant. Most of all, what she said at the en of her spiel was true: she wanted to stay alive for Wilson's sake more than her own.

Wilson smiled sadly, gripping her hand tighter than ever before. He was lost for words. Well, all except three. "I love you," he said with watery eyes. Those brown eyes that seemed to plain and simple to anyone else, yet held so much more for Hannah.

"I love you, too," she sighed happily, leaning back in the hospital bed as she finally said those words. They stayed like that for a few more moments, just staring into each others tear-filled eyes, not needing to say anything. What could either of them say?

When Wilson's pager rang, Hannah let him go. She knew that he could stay forever, especially because no one knew how urgent the call could be. When he walked through the door and down the hall, Hannah couldn't help but wish his hand was back in hers.

---

When Wilson returned later that night with a tray of food, Hannah made a request for her cards. While she thought they'd be in her bag in his office where she'd usually leave her coat and other things during the day, Hannah was delighted that they were already in her room. How she hadn't noticed was slightly surprising, but she ha spent most of her time sleeping and thinking.

"Do you mind if I stay?" Wilson asked as he handed over Hannah's box of cards. She shook her head 'no' before speaking.

"Not at all, unless you're pulling a 'House' and are avoiding something you should probably be doing instead." They both laughed at her words, but Hannah knew he humor was false. In fact, she was terrified, but after being in work fields in which she needed to remain indifferent, she'd become quite the actress.

She shuffled the cards as Wilson sat down on the stood on the other end of the table. "What do I need to know about my surgery?" she asked before flipping the three cards. The Hanged Man, the Chariot, and the Six of Cups. Hannah breathed a sigh of relief.

While she was caught between two significant events with possible sacrifice; as the Hanged Man suggested; and the Chariot meant that she was searching for harmony and truth in a conflicting time, where she must balance her physical and emotional well-being, the Six of Cups gave her great hope. She would beat the odds! She explained as much to Wilson before confirming her decision: the surgery will happen.

Hannah was wrong, however, For while her prediction seemed accurate, her panicked mind had made a mistake: she had read the meaning of the Six of Batons, not Coins. What the Six of Coins really represented was wishful thinking. How ironic.

---

Her surgery began the next morning. Hannah was drugged up and knocked out, and then it began. Wilson was in the room, of course, and it was all he could do not to tear up as he thought about what might happen if Hannah didn't make it. He stayed strong, however, determined not to let his emotions get in the way of the surgery. Whether or not he kept it together might have determined if the surgery would be successful or a total failure.

Fortunately, the removal of the tumor went off without a hitch. Hannah was sewn back up, and before long she was back in her room, still - as they assumed - sound asleep. It was only normal, though. The dosage would last for a while longer than normal since the surgery went quicker than anyone expected. It wasn't nearly as bad as Wilson had made it out to be. It wasn't until Wilson came back that afternoon to check in on Hannah that he noticed something was wrong.

"Hannah," he called into her room as he entered. Oddly enough, she was still asleep. Wilson's suspicions rose, but he dismissed them, brushing it off with an excuse that she could have been sleep deprived, what with a surgery looming over her head the night before.

Wilson came closer to Hannah, the smile slowly but surely fading from his face. "Hannah?" He needed to speak with her; needed to hear her voice and know she was alright. Realization dawned on his when he shook her gently, trying to draw her from her slumber. He was embarrassed it took him so long to notice.

The thing was, Hannah wasn't asleep. She was comatose.