A Real Lifesaver
Summary: Wilson has a bad day, and House...is House. Early in their epic friendship.
Disclaimer: I wish I owned House and Wilson. Unfortunately, wishes don't always come true. Please don't sue me.
"I'm afraid that the biopsy revealed that the tumor is, in fact, malignant."
Mrs. Finley gasped, one shaking hand grasping her husband's arm and the other flying to her mouth. Dr. Wilson, unfortunately but predictably used to delivering grim news, clasped his hands together and gave the couple a moment to digest this new information. So as to appear in control of the situation he did not break eye contact with his patient, and adopted an expression of caring concern. It was more difficult to pull off than it used to be. He had only been Head of Oncology at Princeton-Plainsboro for a month now, and already he felt jaded and worn.
"Does—does that mean she's going to die?" Mr. Finley asked, glancing nervously at his wife. At the word 'die' Mrs. Finley let out a sob, eyes filling with tears.
Probably. Wilson wanted to say. The tumor's the size of a tennis ball and growing. And if it doesn't kill her, she'll wish that it did. When her hair falls out, she can barely sit upright, and everything she tries to eat immediately comes out both ends, she's going to wish she were dead.
"Unfortunately, because of the size and location of the tumor, there's no way that we'll be able to remove it completely. But there are a number of very effective treatments that I'd like to discuss with you, many of which have been shown—"
A sound rang out through the office, halting Wilson's well-rehearsed (if somewhat bitter) words. He glanced around the room, searching for the source of the noise but finding nothing. Mr. and Mrs. Finley, trapped in their bubble of grief, seemed unaware of the interruption. Wilson took a deep breath, pushed all of his pessimism aside, and continued.
"There are a number of treatments that have been shown to prolong—"
The same noise once again disturbed his speech, but this time Wilson was able to pinpoint its location to the general vicinity of his sliding glass door. He stared at said door, perplexed. The door led to his balcony, and he scrambled to determine what could possibly be tapping on the glass from four floors up.
"Doctor?" A tentative voice asked. Wilson shook his head slightly and once again turned towards the Finleys. Mrs. Finley had a tissue out and was blotting her red eyes, while her husband slung his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. Wilson could feel emotion building inside him, but quickly stopped it from rising, barricading it to the pit of his stomach. As he stared at the Finleys, he could understand why his predecessor had chosen to retire early. Head of Oncology sounds great on paper, but in reality—
TAP! There it was, the sound again, somewhat louder this time. All three occupants of the small office turned their heads towards the sliding glass door. This time Wilson rose from his chair.
"Please excuse me for a moment." He said kindly.
He walked to the door and peered through the glass. Nothing out of the ordinary. Unwilling to let the source of the noise go undiscovered, he slid the door open and stepped outside, closing it behind him. His first step elicited a soft crunch. Wilson narrowed his eyes, and lifted his expensive Italian shoe from the ground. Beneath it lay bits and pieces of something green. A few inches to the left was a piece of yellow, and a foot to his right was a piece of orange. Frowning slightly, he bent down to examine them more closely. They were Lifesavers. Lifesavers? Why—
"I only really like the red ones."
Wilson jerked his head upwards, for the first time noticing Dr. House standing on his own balcony, one hand shoved into the pocket of his jeans, the other clutching a half-empty roll of lifesavers. Wilson stood slowly, one hand fingering the yellow Lifesaver.
"You didn't call me back." House adopted a comical pouting expression, and walked lazily towards the wall that divided their respective balconies. "We had a good time, dinner and a movie, and you said you'd call. Is this because I didn't put out?"
"Why are you throwing Lifesavers at my door?" Wilson asked, perplexed. He had only recently started spending time with the brilliant diagnostician in the neighboring office, and had yet to understand anything that he said or did. His predecessor had warned him on more than one occasion that the man was trouble, yet Wilson felt a pull towards him that he couldn't really explain. He was beginning to think it was his newly acquired masochistic spirit—a detrimental friend to go with his spirit-breaking chosen specialty.
"Why does a dog lick itself?" House asked, popping a red Lifesaver into his mouth.
Wilson blinked, face expressionless.
"I…have a patient."
"Is she dying?"
"Yeah…she is." Wilson frowned, one hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck tiredly. The other rubbed the Lifesaver once more before throwing it dejectedly to the ground. He could feel House's eyes on him, watching his every move. After a month, it had finally stopped making him nervous.
"You win some, you lose some." House said glibly, shrugging his shoulders. "Well, in your case you lose pretty much all of them, but I couldn't think of a better saying to fit this situation."
Wilson glanced back into his office, noting dully that the Finleys were still there, waiting to be informed of the options that might prolong (however painfully) Mrs. Finley's life.
"I have to go." He said, taking a deep breath and filling his lungs with the crisp afternoon air. He quickly adopted his caring and concerned face once more, and re-entered his office.
Eventually Mr. and Mrs. Finley left, leaving behind a wastebasket full of used tissues and a cloud of depression that was slowly suffocating the new Head of Oncology. He loosened his ugly paisley tie (gift from his wife), and buried his head in hands with a sigh.
"You broke my heart once already, and I shouldn't be giving you another chance." Suddenly House was in front of his desk, arms crossed, concealing the name of the band endorsed on his t-shirt. "But I'm going to let you buy me lunch."
Wilson raised his head, and smiled slightly. House was stone-faced, but there was something in his eyes…was that concern? He hadn't known him long enough to be certain. In a second the moment was gone, and House was already on his way to the door.
"If you treat me real nice and promise not to cop a feel, I might even let you buy me lunch tomorrow, too."
Wilson chuckled and stood up. This job might take some getting used to, but there was potential here…potential for a good life.
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