This was my first WilsonFest Prompt submission.
Prompt #198 "Wilson is a therapist; House is his patient."
Disclaimer: I do not own House M.D., any related characters, or the practice of psychiatry, which I probably got completely wrong.
Nobody is who they seem to be.
Dr. James Wilson walked into a small, yet elaborate, psychiatry clinic. He was greeted warmly by the few members of the staff and he acknowledged their greetings with a smile and a slight nod. He then retreated to his office ready to begin his typical day.
Everyone has a disguise; a façade, hidden from the world. Everybody lies.
Wilson welcomed his daily morning appointments and went though a routine he was most accustomed to. He listened to their problems carefully and gently advised a course of action. By reading his patient's charts and personality quirks, he learned how to deal with them and carefully found a common ground. He always looked for a 'connection' to be made.
It is my job to see past those lies. I have to find the problem, fix it, and hope the patient will live a better life after it.
Wilson waved goodbye to his last morning patient with a warm smile on his face. After the door closed, Wilson let out a big sigh and glanced around his empty office. He stared forlornly at his diplomas and framed articles that hung in the glass cabinet behind him, and then turned to look at his daily planner with had that day's date circled in red. "MEETING WITH DOCTOR HOUSE. 1:00 P.M."
But what if there are some people who cannot be "fixed"?
Wilson stared at his watch as the time slid from 1:00 to 1:15 and continued to push forward. He pushed away feelings of hope that his new patient would show up when his speakerphone immediately came to life. "Dr. Wilson. Your next patient is h-!" Before the receptionist's sentence could be completed, the office door swung open and a man and his cane stomped into the room as if he owned it.
What do I do then?
"Good afternoon...er... Doctor House, I presume?" Wilson managed to get out as he hurriedly tried to look as professional as possible. His efforts failed under the abruptness of the situation.
"Hmm," was the only response House made as he stood, rooted to his spot, carefully observing his surroundings.
"Would you please take a seat? Your leg must be bothering-"
"Thirty-five-year-old male; blow-dries his hair, has an incredibly bad taste in ties, and an extreme neediness complex. He has successfully managed to woo every lady that works here and is within ten miles of this place, and has the demeanor of one who's living the perfect life. Am I right?"
Wilson blinked at the man's assessment, having just met him not even a few minutes ago. As he was failing to form an answer, House continued talking.
"I figured since you were going to get to know me today I'd try to figure you out first. The score is House one; Quack zero. You need to get on the ball if you're going to win." House remarked haughtily as he casually walked over and took his seat.
Wilson realized this would not be a typical case, and that if he did not get the man's attention now then this entire session would be a waste. Instead of ignoring the game, he decided to play along. "Forty-two year old curmudgeon, walks with a limp, and is abrasive to most, if not all, people. So why did you come to see me today Dr. House?"
"It was either this or a whole day of clinic duty. Honestly, I would have chosen the clinic over this third circle of hell, but lucky for you there was a sudden epidemic involving sausages or something." House turned to face Wilson. "And please, don't tell me that's all you could pick up on me. Good thing you don't base your life on observing people. Oh wait..."
Wilson ignored this comment; he was unsure what kind of affect his answer had on House, and continued with his normal set of questions. "First of all, do you have any problems you'd like to talk about, Dr. House?"
"Fake doctors. They make us real doctors look bad." House said flatly, with no emotion backing his words.
Wilson carefully wrote down his responses. "How so?"
"Thinking they deserve the renowned title of 'doctor' even though they couldn't tell erythrocytes from leukocytes. Chiropractors for example, all they do is hit your back a couple of times and make it feel good, but if you have some life-threatening back problem you wouldn't be caught dead looking for a chiropractor... unless you're an idiot."
"Is this a problem in your current life? Or are you just saying this to waste our hour-and-a-half of time together?"
House gasped in mock terror. "Why, as my psychiatrist, you have no right to assume that!"
Wilson quickly caught himself. "Oh! I'm very sorry Dr. House. I didn't mean to assume-"
"Yeah, it's a problem my life at this very moment." House replied as he cut Wilson off, reverting to his condescending tone. "There is this one 'fake doctor' in my life right now that insists on prying into my personal business for no reason at all."
"Does this problem hinder any of your daily activities in any way?"
"I guess you could say that. In fact I had to miss work once just to see him."
"Well, if this problem bothers you so much then why don't you just take this 'fake doctor' out of your life?"
"Excellent advice, Mr. Wilson."
Wilson stopped writing for a moment, suddenly realizing that House had been talking about him the entire time. He was unsure what he was most angry about at the moment, the fact that they just wasted fifteen minutes of this session on nothing or the fact that he fell for the man's games so easily. This certainly was not a typical case.
"So what's the typical diagnosis you give your patients? 'Take two teaspoons of sunny cheer and call me in the morning'? Just so you know, I'm allergic. How about a Friday night of poker instead?"
Wilson ignored him. He knew that ignoring a patient was strictly against his practice, but he also knew that Gregory House was not a typical patient. "Dr. Cuddy was the one who wanted you to see me-"
"No surprise there. She's been trying to get me into physical therapy for months. I guess she settled for psychiatry this time."
"She seems to care about you a lot. Do you think you merit her kindness, Dr. House?"
"She's my boss, I'm her bitch. My name is famous and I'm a commodity to her precious hospital. Give and take relationship."
"Then what are you getting from it; other than a payroll?"
House leaned over and smiled deviously. "Do you really want to know?"
Wilson's eyebrows furrowed as an indication he was annoyed. "No." He replied flatly as he continued writing.
House leaned back in the chair. "Why are you so curious about Cuddy anyway? Are you jealous that she kept calling out my name in bed?"
Wilson blushed in surprise and anger at the man's audacity. "We didn't do anything at the Pennsylvania conference! Besides..." Wilson paused and held up his hand, "I'm a married man."
House's gaze was away from Wilson as he spoke. "Second marriage? Or third?"
"How did you know about that?" Wilson replied, still angry at the man.
House then took his cane and used it to grab a picture frame from Wilson's desk. He caught it carelessly with no regard for caution. "The ring you're wearing now is different from the ring in this picture. Besides, it's so obvious the way the women around you regard you and your 'knight-in-shining-armor' reputation. Too bad none of the ladies ever get to see what's under the armor."
At that point Wilson stopped writing; his full focus was on House.
"They don't see the man that feeds on people's needs, the man whose entire purpose in life is to serve others and let them walk all over him."
"Oh, what a horrible thing to do." Wilson said in a tone laced with sarcasm. "God forbid people trying to help other people! You're right Dr. House; all us psychiatrists are scam artists. The world would be a much better place if everyone cared only about themselves!"
"The thing is, you do care about yourself. Sure you help people and that's what everyone around you sees, but in reality you only do it to please yourself. There is no 'self-sacrifice' left in this world Mr. Wilson. Everyone is just out for themselves in one way or another." House remarked grimly, half bitter and half gloating.
"Well then, I suppose it's much better to shut out the world and be miserable for the rest of your life right?"
Wilson's response to House's little speech got House's attention. He rested his head on his cane and looked up.
"You hate people, you hate everyone around you, but mostly, you hate yourself. You think everyone is out for themselves and that everyone keeps to themselves, but you also know that people need other people. The way you try to figure everyone out the second you meet them is your way of establishing a sort of bond with the people around you. Always prying into the lives of the people closest to you, trying to take control because you think that's the only way you can have a 'relationship' with them."
"I don't hide behind a notepad pretending to fix people's problems when all I'm doing is trying to fix myself!"
"I don't hide behind a cane and a crippled leg from the rest of society!"
House and Wilson locked their gazes with each other in standing annoyance.
This is certainly different. Dr. House is certainly not a normal patient. And yet, he also seems to have his own problems. Maybe... Wilson shook himself from his thoughts and looked away from House. He then looked down and began to laugh in a fit of excited laughter.
House was confused at the situation. "What the hell is so funny?"
After a few more minutes of laughter, Wilson collected himself and faced House again. "Change. Your problem with opening up to people is the change that it will bring, and you hate that."
House became annoyed at Wilson's revelation. "How many times do I have to tell you? If you try reading me you are going to lose."
"The thing is, you hate the fact that everyone wants you to change. You think you're fine the way you are."
House tapped his cane on the round impatiently, rolling his eyes at the answer he knew was coming.
"Maybe you really are fine just the way you are."
House looked up at Wilson suspiciously after getting an answer he was not expecting. "So...does this mean we agree?"
Wilson paused for a moment to think. "I guess it does."
"You do realize that you haven't 'fixed' me, or changed me, or made my life any better than it originally was."
"Yes."
"But you think you've done your job."
"I've come to learn that not everything needs to be fixed." Wilson stared at the wedding ring on his finger for a moment before he continued. "Sometimes things just need to be allowed to run their course."
House looked ahead distantly and made a soft noise in agreement. "So, how much time do we have left?"
Wilson looked at his watch and looked back up in surprise. "About...negative fifteen minutes."
"Well, I'd better get back to the hospital and finish my negative ten minutes of clinic duty." House replied plainly and he stood.
Wilson mirrored his actions and looked House in the eye as he extended his hand.
House noticed his gesture as a moment of silence ran though the air. He then looked away and hesitated, but returned Wilson's gesture with a handshake.
"When shall I schedule our next meeting?"
"Friday; my place. Bring food and beer."
"Goodbye House."
"Goodbye... Dr. Wilson."