James Evan Wilson had been listening to the same guy talk about the same thing over and over again for the past hour. He could understand that Dr. Hernandez was proud of discovering a new drug that might help with whatever it was he was talking about, but there is such a thing as going too far. All Wilson wanted was to go back to his beautiful wife, here with him in New Orleans for the medical conference. As an aspiring radiologist Sam was at another specialist lecture, while Wilson was going to as many as he could, though none seemed to hold his interest.
As the lecture finally drew to a close, Wilson packed up his things into his very respectable briefcase, straightened his very respectable suit, and headed off to his very respectable wife. Wilson was as content as he could be...
That is until his very respectable life came crashing down around him.
"What do you mean divorce? I thought we were happy." He just couldn't wrap his head around what was happening.
"No, James, we weren't. We were just pretending to be." Sam was infuriatingly calm. "I would like you to sign the papers by the end of the conference." And then she left. Just like that.
Wilson didn't know what to make of this. When had Sam started thinking about this? Had there been a sign? A way he could have caught this before it had to come to divorce? Maybe if he had been a better husband. Maybe...
The questions continued, bouncing around in his brain, back and forth until they got mixed up and jumbled. He carried the folder around with him to every lecture, hoping that if he was exposed to the idea enough it might seem a little less surreal. Not that he thought that would actually work.
It wasn't until the guy with the unshaven face, AC/DC shirt, and sarcastic demeanor stumbled into one of his lectures and plopped down in the seat next to him that he snapped out of the daze that had followed him since his last meeting with Sam.
"This seat taken?" Asked the man, though Wilson thought he wouldn't have cared if it was.
"Uh, no, not at all."
"Good." Wilson tried to figure out what he meant by that. "The name's Greg House." The man, Greg, stuck out his hand to Wilson, and he grabbed it with his own, giving it a little shake.
"James." He replied. "Wilson."
"Stimulating topic, don't you agree?" Chatted Greg, apparently oblivious that Wilson really didn't want to talk right now.
"Oh yes, sure."
"So what's your field? Let me guess, Neurologist." Wilson shook his head. "Then what are you doing here?"
"I like to keep an open mind." Wilson turned his attention back to the lecture hoping that would be enough to deter Greg from creating any more small talk.
"I'm in Diagnostics." Greg supplied without being prompted.
"I get that you're just trying to make small talk, but I've had a rough few days, so can I just listen to the lecture please?" Wilson gestured to the speaker, a Dr. Evelyn Williams who had something to say about Audio to Brain stimulus and simulations or whatever.
"Your divorce, right?" Wilson looked at Greg in surprise. "I've noticed you carry around that file. It's from a divorce attorney, and based on the fact that you haven't opened it and signed it to just get it over with, you either still love her, or you think you still love her."
Wilson felt his face heating up, was it really that obvious? He closed his briefcase and pulled it closer defensively. "I don't want to talk about it." He forced out.
"Are you sure? I heard it's supposed to be very therapeu-"
"Stop! Will you leave me alone, I don't want to talk about it!" All the eyes in the auditorium darted in Wilson's direction. Dr. Williams looked very offended, and the faces of the audience members who were actually paying attention were scandalized.
"It seems you've caused a scene." Greg had a strange smirk on his faced, almost like he was intrigued and amused at the same time.
"You're an ass." Wilson stated as he grabbed his case and headed for the exit.
Greg followed Wilson out the door, trailing after him like a malicious lost puppy. "Stop following me." He said, a tad testy.
"Not until you tell me what happened between you and your wife." Greg stated.
"What has gotten you so interested in my personal life?"
"The fact that your personal life is actually interesting!" He pointed at Wilson, almost dramatically, and asked again, "What happened between you and your wife?"
"I don't know!" Wilson yelled at him. "I thought... I had thought we were fine. Go away." This time, Greg didn't follow him.
~*···*~
The bar was small and dank, but the alcohol was good enough to get him drunk and that was pretty much all Wilson cared about. The conference was almost over, tomorrow being the last day. Sam had called him at his hotel after he had ditched Greg to tell him not to forget about the papers. Like he could even try to forget the papers. The papers had pretty much ruined his life.
Billy Joel sang "Leave A Tender Moment Alone" on the JukeBox in the corner of the room, really not the best song choice for how Wilson was feeling. As the song finally drew to an end Wilson downed another shot in silent celebration.
That is, until the song came on again. He turned on the bar stool and glared at the guy who had just given up a dollar of his paycheck just to annoy Wilson. "Can you please stop playing that song?" The guy seemed to agree until the song was over and he played it again. "I asked you to stop that song please." Wilson was starting to get mad, and if the guy didn't stop soon he was going to turn green and smash his way across New Orleans. Metaphorically.
"Yeah, and I chose not to listen." The guy lit a cigarette, puffing the fumes into his lungs and exhaling the excess smoke.
"Just, stop playing the song." Wilson tried to calm down, but mixing alcohol and heartbreak was not always a good combination. When the guy once again ignored him he picked up the bottle he had been drinking from and hurled it across the room towards the Billy Joel fanatic. "Stop playing the damn song!" Wilson faintly heard a smash and crash, and as he looked away from the cowering man, he noticed the mirror he had smashed. The mirror that was probably the most expensive thing in the bar.
The bartender was on the phone, most likely talking to the police. "Look, I'm really sorry about the mirror-" but he could already hear sirens out the door. The cops came into the room and the bartender ran to meet them. She filled in the police what had happened, gesturing to Wilson as he sighed and sat back down on the bar stool, finishing his last shot.
~*···*~
Wilson sat alone in his holding cell, feeling that if he was going to be in here he should at least be provided a ball so he could act as Steve McQueen as possible to retain a little dignity.
The alcohol had worn off halfway through the interrogation that was honestly a bit biased. Turned out the polchief and the bar owner were long time friends. His head ached, his body was sore, and he could go for anommmmtmnnmnher drink. The divorce papers were still in his hotel room, probably collecting dust. So that was a plus.
Wilson felt awful. He shouldn't have lost his temper like that, and he reminded himself to pay the owner back for the mirror.
The door at the end of the room opened and a police officer a little heavy around the middle entered. "Uh... James Wilson? Your friend just bailed you out."
Wilson looked at him confused, "What friend?"
Out in the lobby of the precinct, Greg House was sitting, bail papers in his hands and a smug smirk on his face.
"So what, you're stalking me now?" Wilson asked as soon as they left the building.
"I wouldn't call it stalking, just common curiosity." Greg replied, flippant.
"About my divorce." Greg did an elaborate "on the nose" gesture, grinning. "So you bail me out of jail?"
"Yep, all cleaned up. No strings attached."
"One more question, where are we going?"
"Oh Wilson," Greg, or House, looked at him over his shoulder. "To get you shit-faced drunk."
The End