TITLE: Memoirs of an Oncology Department Secretary (2/4)
AUTHOR: hwshipper
DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to Heel and Toe Films, Shore Z Productions and Bad Hat Harry Productions in association with Universal Media Studios.
SUMMARY Overall: The POV of Nora, Wilson 's assistant, an OFC, on the House/Wilson relationship, spanning from Wilson 's arrival at PPTH to early season 4, twelve years later. This part: Nora watches House's infarction aftermath, and Wilson becomes Head of Oncology.
BETA: the sterling triedunture
Memoirs of an Oncology Department Secretary chapter 2
"Hey, Nora." Wilson appeared at Nora's desk with a winning smile. No guitar shaped cases this time, she was relieved to see, but he was clutching a bag.
"What can I do you for?" she asked.
"I need a box. Cardboard box, about this big." Wilson spread out his hands. "And some sort of packing paper."
Nora thought for a moment, then got up and rummaged in a cupboard. She found a box and some blue tissue paper, and handed them to him.
"Perfect," Wilson said enthusiastically, and reached into his bag. He pulled out a tangled mess of wood and wire. Nora had no idea what it was. She didn't want to ask, but Wilson caught her look and said, "It's the whammy bar. From House's guitar."
"Whammy bar?" Nora had never heard of such a thing, but then she didn't know anything about guitars.
"You didn't notice I'd taken it off the guitar?" Wilson asked.
"I never even opened the case," Nora said, a trifle piously. Wilson grinned. He stuck the whammy bar in the box and put some tissue on top of it. Nora watched him indulgently. She'd seen House and Wilson play many pranks on each other over the years. She recognized this as the horse's head in a bed moment.
"Oh, by the way Dr. Wilson," she said, picking up a piece of paper from her desk. "I just got the rosters for next week, and I thought you'd be interested to know that Nurse Brad has switched to the night shift."
Wilson's eyes widened. "Really? I am interested, thank you for telling me." He shut the box and shot her an admiring look which she read as how did you know?
She smiled gently back. It was her job to know. It had always been part of her job to know whatever needed to be known, to keep the department functioning properly.
Wilson had been working at Princeton-Plainsboro for a bit more than three years the day he came into Nora's office and perched on the edge of her desk. She looked at him questioningly.
"I have news. Cuddy's sending me to Stanford for six months," he said.
"The secondment?" Nora had been dealing with correspondence back and forth about this for a while. A doctor at Stanford was very keen to come and do a research project with Brown, and had proposed a swap so a doctor from Princeton Plainsboro could come work at Stanford in his place. Dr. Collins had been reluctant, but Cuddy had been enthusiastic; skills swaps, building relationships with other institutions, that was all very much the sort of ethos she wanted to encourage at her hospital.
"That's right." Wilson grinned wryly. "I guess Collins thought he could spare me the best out of everyone for six months."
"Actually I think Cuddy was keen to give one of the younger doctors an opportunity," Nora corrected. "It'll be good résumé points, you know."
Wilson nodded. "True."
Nora would have stopped here if she had been talking to any other of her doctors, but with Wilson she added, "Especially with Dr. Collins retiring in a few years time."
"Brown's job will be up for grabs, you mean?" Wilson said lightly. Brown was the most senior doctor in Oncology after Collins. It was widely assumed he would naturally succeed to the top job.
Nora shook her head and lowered her voice. "Not necessarily. Brown may not go for it."
Wilson's eyebrows shot up. "You're kidding."
"Well, he might," Nora said hastily. "But he might not. Brown likes his research, you know. He's said before he wouldn't want all the administration and office politics that goes with being department head. He's already on Management Board and he hates that. He might well decide to take a pass."
"Really," Wilson said slowly, and Nora could see him thinking this through, thinking of the other doctors below Brown who might also fancy their chances at getting Collins' job. Wilson was ambitious, she knew that. Not in an overt, aggressive way, but he worked hard, took credit where it was due, and was always the first to volunteer when it came to something like sitting on yet another committee.
"Just some food for thought," she said lightly.
"Thank you, Nora, I appreciate that," Wilson said, his voice heartfelt. He hopped off her desk.
"Just you make sure you come back from Stanford," Nora said, both joking and serious.
Wilson smiled. "Of course I will. You don't think House would let me get away that easily, do you?"
She smiled back and he left. He was back a minute later though, to add, "And if anything happens with Jack while I'm away, complications, anything at all, you call me, OK?"
"Thank you, Dr. Wilson," she said, her tone heartfelt.
The Stanford secondment created a lot of admin and kept Nora very busy for a while. Once it had started though, things quietened down. Nora missed seeing Wilson around, but the Stanford doctor was very pleasant. Jack was stable and that was a relief too. Nora wouldn't want to contact Wilson while he was away unless it seemed absolutely necessary. A matter of life and death, perhaps.
In the end, someone did fall sick while Wilson was away. But it wasn't Jack.
House had been ill with his leg for more than three days before Nora heard about it. That was when the news suddenly flared round the hospital grapevine; House had something wrong with his leg, nobody had figured it out, it had got a lot worse and Dr. Cuddy had just pulled rank and taken over his case personally. And it was bad. A blood clot. Muscle death. Nora had little idea about what this really meant in medical terms, but people spoke about it in hushed voices. News continued to filter through. House had gone in for surgery. He was out of surgery. It still looked bad.
Nora didn't know House, except insofar as he occasionally hung around Oncology looking for Wilson, or waiting for Wilson, and Wilson chatted about House in passing to her occasionally. She couldn't recall actually speaking to House since she'd given him directions to Wilson's office in the corridor, the first day she'd met him. But she had the same human curiosity as everyone else, amplified by her high regard for Wilson.
She went to House's hospital room. The blinds were drawn, but the door was open as a nurse was in doing a procedure. Nora peered inside the door. House was lying in bed, his face gray and sweating. He kept moving his head from side to side as if tortured, trying to release some sort of pressure.
Troubled, Nora went in search of information and found a gaggle of nurses down in the nurse's locker room who were about to go on duty on House's floor. She followed them upstairs, engaging in conversation.
"He is the worst patient ever," one of them told her.
"Doctors always make the worst patients," someone else said.
"He's the worst kind of doctor then," the first nurse retorted. "Orders us around, always knows best, never even polite about it."
"So what's the situation now?" Nora asked.
"He had a bypass. It's left him in chronic pain, and earlier today he went into cardiac arrest," a third nurse explained. "He was dead for a minute before they brought him back."
Nora was shocked. She hadn't heard that. "So... now what?"
"I hear he's asked to go into a coma to try and ride it out," a fourth nurse said. She had a sharp nose, brown hair and was determined-looking; Nora didn't recognize her, and thought she must be new. Her name badge read Nurse Previn. "But there's something strange going on. Cuddy and Stacy have been all in a huddle in Cuddy's office, I saw them earlier." Nurse Previn saw she had every one's attention, and went on dramatically, "I think they're going to wait 'til he's in a coma, and then do what they wanted to all along—amputate."
There were cries of "Brenda, no!" from some of the others who knew House was dead set against this. Two of the nurses had seen House go into the operating room before, and reported he had written Not that leg either on his bad leg. There was a consensus that Cuddy and Stacy wouldn't dare.
"Well, there's something going on," Nurse Brenda Previn said darkly.
"Does anyone know if they've told Dr. Wilson?" Nora asked, a little awkwardly. She didn't have to explain her question. House and Wilson's friendship was well known across the hospital.
"Definitely not," one of the nurses piped up and Nora looked at her sharply. The nurse hastened to explain. "I was changing the IV when Dr. Cuddy was in there, after he came back from the crash, and Cuddy asked him, 'Now will you let me call Wilson?' And House said something like, 'Not this again, I've been through this with Stacy. There's no point, he'll just worry and come running back, and it's pointless, it's not like he can do anything.' Then they started talking about this coma thing."
Nora nodded, thanked the nurses, and walked away. It was none of her business, really, after all.
Later in the day she found her feet taking her back to House's room to find out if anything else had happened. She found Brenda in the corridor outside House's room, and Brenda was only too keen to fill her in.
"Well, they didn't amputate," Brenda said, sounding a little disappointed. Nora frowned at her, disapproving. "But they have done more surgery, and I bet he didn't know about that before they put him under. They've done an abridement—removed all the dead tissue. There was a lot of it. I had to dress his leg just now and God, it's just like a giant gaping hole where his thigh used to be." Nora gaped, and Brenda nodded. She lowered her voice and added, "Just my opinion, but with a leg like that, I wouldn't be surprised if House can't walk again."
Nora was truly shocked. Brenda moved on, and Nora went and stood outside House's room. The blinds were drawn again, but this time not fully. She could see in between the slats by standing at the right angle. House was unconscious; still in the coma, Nora assumed. He looked ghostly pale, and somehow small and helpless. This was so completely the opposite of what House was like, that Nora had a hard time believing it was actually House still alive under that deathly pallor. She remembered House running eight miles in to work once. She knew that he played sports: golf, lacrosse. The thought of him perhaps not being able to walk again was just unbelievable.
She stood there for a little while, and found herself chewing on her lip. Wilson didn't know this had happened to House. So what, it was none of her business. House didn't want him to know, and it was his prerogative.
She was unhappy nevertheless. She knew Wilson would want to know.
Wilson was a professional colleague, not a friend. He was a doctor and she was an administrator. Her husband was his patient. It was just not her place to tell him, especially not when House's own girlfriend—Wilson's friend, too—and the Dean of Medicine weren't telling him.
Nora went back to her office. She sat at her desk, shut her eyes and thought about House and Wilson. She remembered what she liked to think of as their indiscretion in the car park. She remembered their smiles across the cafeteria table. She recalled a thousand instances of their easy, shared intimacy; walking side by side, House stealing Wilson's food. She remembered how House had changed the screen saver on Wilson's computer the day he'd gone away to a scrolling message which read Stanford sucks. (Fortunately the Stanford doctor who had taken over Wilson's computer the following day had seen the funny side).
She picked up the phone and dialed. Wilson picked up almost immediately. "Hello?"
"Dr. Wilson, it's Nora." Nora suddenly found herself seized by a momentary panic that the nurses had understood wrong and she was about to make a fool of herself. Surely either Stacy or Cuddy would have called Wilson.
"Nora?" Wilson's voice was immediately concerned. "Is Jack OK?"
"Jack's fine," Nora hastened to say. "I'm—I'm calling about Dr. House."
She heard a long sigh down the line. "Break it to me, what's he done?"
Nora would have laughed if she hadn't been so worried.
"He hasn't done anything. He's—he's sick, Dr. Wilson." And Nora spilled her guts, becoming rapidly aware as she spoke how ignorant she was about the medical details. She did her best. She dredged up all the words that the nurses had used. Aneurysm. Infarction. She kept to the facts and skipped Brenda's speculation that Cuddy and Stacy had done something behind House's back—she wasn't sure she believed this herself, and anyway, it wasn't important right now. But she did repeat Brenda's opinion that House might not walk again.
Wilson didn't interrupt once, though she heard several sharp intakes of breath while she was talking. Eventually she finished, and there was a moment's silence before Wilson spoke.
"Nora, did you say Cuddy's in charge of his case?" There was a slight shake to his voice.
"Yes," Nora confirmed.
"OK. I'm going to call her right now and find out how he is. Um—is Stacy with House?"
"She's around, I don't know where she is right now." Nora knew what Wilson meant. "She wanted to call you, the nurses said, so did Dr. Cuddy. House didn't want them to."
"Of course he wouldn't, the stubborn bastard!" Wilson's voice rose to a frustrated shout. "For Christ's sake, the idea that I might actually want to know, might actually care!" He took a deep breath. "Nora, I'm really glad you called. I won't tell House it was you, in case he tries to eats you or something." Nora recognized that Wilson was trying to speak lightly, and she knew the best thing she could do now was get the hell off the phone line.
Wilson was back at Princeton Plainsboro the following day, which, considering the three thousand miles he'd had to travel, was remarkably quick. Once Nora heard he was back, she went down to House's room and saw Wilson sitting next to House's bed, not touching him, just sitting close, watching. House was asleep. She lingered awhile. House barely moved. Wilson didn't move at all.
After that, Nora kept her head down and stayed out of the way. She didn't try and see House again, and only saw Wilson when he came on fleeting visits to Oncology, when he was stressed and not inclined to linger and talk, not that she dared ask him questions anyway.
Cuddy entered into discussions with Stanford; Dr. Collins was copied in on it all, so Nora saw it too. She learned that Cuddy paid off Stanford to release Wilson for the last three months he was supposed to be there, which must have cost a lot of money (Debbie from Accounting later confirmed that for her). As Princeton Plainsboro still had the Stanford doctor, Wilson was spared coming back to work full-time for those three months, though he did in fact work a hefty part-time load, taking back most of his regular patients including Jack, but not taking on new ones. As the Stanford doctor was still occupying his office, Wilson led a rather peripatetic existence, working with laptops in conference rooms or in whatever office happened to be free, between running off to check on House. He looked permanently exhausted.
Nora took to meeting Nurse Brenda Previn periodically to get medical news about House. Brenda avidly related details of House's fury with Stacy and Cuddy, especially Stacy, and the subsequent deteriorating relationship between House and Stacy. House was eventually released from hospital to go home with Stacy, but Nora came to the hospital lobby to watch them depart, and the tension was obvious.
Nora saw nothing of House in the months of rehabilitation that followed, except occasional sightings in corridors on his way to and from physical therapy appointments; first in a wheelchair, later with crutches, and then hobbling along awkwardly with a cane. Initially he was usually accompanied by Stacy, sometimes by Wilson; and then later just with Wilson. By now the Stanford secondment had ended and Wilson was back in his office and back working full-time, almost.
Nora mentioned to Wilson one day as casually as possible that she hadn't seen Stacy around the hospital recently.
Wilson sighed. "Stacy's not working here any more, Nora. She got another job with a law firm out in Short Hills. She and House, uh, split up."
Nora wasn't surprised, but she was sorry, very sorry. For House and Stacy, who had seemed so much in love; and for Wilson, who was looking more like a psychological human punching bag than ever.
One day Nora was walking down the Oncology corridor when she saw House and Wilson up ahead, both looking as if they'd just been put through a wringer. House was leaning on his cane with both hands and looked as if sheer force of will was the only thing keeping him upright. Wilson looked, if possible, even more haggard than House did. Nora recalled that House had been in for physical therapy that afternoon, Wilson had presumably accompanied him.
"I'm just going to get a file from my office," Wilson said to House, and headed off down the corridor towards his office.
House stood by the elevator, waiting for Wilson. Nora arrived next to him and punched the down button. House looked at her. His blue eyes were shattered glass, fragmented with exhaustion and pain. Nora wondered how on earth House could bear it. She also wondered how Wilson could bear looking at those eyes, day after day.
Then, most unexpectedly, House spoke to her. "You're Nora, aren't you? Oncology secretary?"
Nora was instantly apprehensive. "That's right."
House looked at her speculatively for a few seconds, then said, "You called Wilson back from Stanford."
"He told you?" Nora asked, surprised and a little worried.
"No. You just did. But I knew it wasn't Cuddy or Stacy." House paused. "He's your husband's doctor, isn't he?"
This wasn't a secret, it was well known in Oncology, but it also wasn't something well known outside the department. Neither was it something Wilson would have gossiped to House about; Wilson was big on patient confidentiality. Nora wondered if House had been checking her out.
"Yes, he is," she said stoutly. She would not be intimidated by House, bum leg or no bum leg. The elevator arrived and she stepped inside. House remained where he was, waiting for Wilson.
As the doors closed between them, House said, even more unexpectedly, "You did the right thing."
Nora thought about this later, and found she was relieved to know this.
About a year after House's infarction, Nora was taking some mail to Wilson's office and was surprised to see the rooms next door to his were being completely gutted and renovated.
"What's happening next door?" she asked Wilson.
"Ah, the Department of Diagnostics is moving in," Wilson said solemnly.
Nora had never heard of such a department.
"It's new. Cuddy's created it for House," Wilson explained. "He's going to head up his own department; just a small one, three fellows and him. They're making a new office and conference room for them."
This was big news. It must be costing a small fortune; Nora wondered how Cuddy had bludgeoned this past the Management Board. Cuddy's level of guilt over the way House's infarction had been handled must be immense.
Also it was clearly no accident that the new department was being placed right next door to Wilson. "You'll be sharing your balcony with him," Nora observed, smiling.
"Yup, I'm really looking forward to that," Wilson said wryly.
And so House came to be installed in a big glass office just along the corridor from Oncology. Nora had cause to walk past here quite a lot, so she saw much more of House in passing than she had during his previous incarnation in Infectious Diseases on the other side of the building. The department was slow to find its feet, owing to the fact that House initially was unable to keep a member of staff for more than a few weeks before either they quit or he fired them. Cuddy refused to let House interview on his own after the second lawsuit, and Wilson ended up helping out because nobody else in the hospital was prepared to do it. Eventually House got himself a couple of staff who seemed able to put up with him, and he with them, and they started to work cases, and lo and behold, House was working again. Cuddy's gamble had paid off; House's fame spread, before long he was able to be very choosy about which referrals he took. And gradually, Nora observed the pressure started to ease on Wilson.
Jack took a turn for the worse. First he had to give up his job; even the light duties he'd been given were just too much. Then being at home was too difficult too, and he had to go into hospital for treatment. And then it became clear that the cancer was not only back, but in control, spreading fast, and there wasn't much that could be done any more. Nora spent her time traipsing back and forth between her office and Jack's bedside. Her iron self-determination kept her working, and the working gave her life validity in the face of an unbearable sense of helplessness.
In the middle of all this, Dr. Collins finally announced his retirement, and as Nora had anticipated, Brown decided not to go for the top job. This unexpected boon cued an unseemly scramble by the rest of the oncology doctors to jostle for pole position. Nora had no favorite that she would admit to in public. She could work with any of the candidates, and she knew that any of them would be only too grateful to work with her. They came to her one by one, and she gave each of them gentle encouragement and advice.
In private, Nora knew exactly who her favorite was. Unfortunately, it still wasn't a great time for Wilson. Even though it had now been two years since House's infarction, and although House had been functioning both as a diagnostician and as a department head for a year now, and getting more adept by the day at using his cane, he was still an angry man. Nora was coming to recognize that House would probably be angry for the rest of his life; at life, at his leg, at the now long departed Stacy, and at Wilson as the nearest readily available target.
"I don't think I'll apply," Wilson said to Nora, when she mentioned the job situation to him, assuming he was applying.
She was shocked. "Why not?"
"I'm not going to get it, am I? I'm too young." Wilson was now thirty-seven. "I haven't worked here long enough." He'd now been at Princeton Plainsboro for six years. "Well, not compared to some, anyway. And I just don't know if I can cope with all that interview stuff right now." He looked dead on his feet. His patient burden was particularly high at the moment. Nora felt obscurely guilty that Jack was one of the patients taking up a lot of Wilson's energy at the moment.
"You should apply." Nora carefully encouraged him.
When he didn't immediately take her advice, Nora surreptiously obtained a set of application forms and filled in as much of the factual information she was able to, from his résumé and other details she had on file. She then put the forms inside a patient file she knew that he would shortly want, and waited, apprehensive about how he might react. A couple of days later, he walked into her office with a smile and an envelope, which he dropped on her desk.
"I filled out the rest," he said. "By hand, though. I've been scribbling it in the clinic between patients, haven't had any time at my desk. I was wondering..."
"I'll type it up," Nora said immediately. The deadline for applications was five o'clock that afternoon, only two hours away. No way could the interview panel be subjected to Wilson's handwriting.
"I'm really grateful," he said quietly.
She could see that Wilson's sense of ambition was still intact under the battered exterior. In a way, Nora thought the fact he looked as if he was permanently under siege might help him; it certainly made him look older.
She ensured the forms were submitted on time, while carefully concealing her own role; she couldn't risk being accused of favoritism.
In the meantime, Jack had gone from bad to worse, and it had become clear that he only had a matters of weeks, maybe even days, to live. Nora took compassionate leave to spend all her time by his bedside, yet still found herself putting in a couple of hours a day at her desk, as she had to do something to pass some of this time. She was dimly aware that interviews were approaching and her doctors were skittish around each other.
The day Jack slipped into a coma was the day of the interviews. Nora was sitting clutching Jack's hand when a part of her brain that was stubbornly refusing to believe what was happening reminded her of this. She looked at the clock, and then turned and said to Wilson, who was there in the room, monitoring Jack and being generally comforting, "Haven't you got your interview now?"
Wilson didn't actually say fuck the interview, but he certainly looked as if that was what he wanted to say.
"Go," Nora insisted. "You can't do anything more here right now." Wilson hesitated and Nora felt herself become agitated. "Go! Please!"
Wilson retreated, though not before having a word with a nurse who then drifted in the door to stand near Nora. Nora saw him glance at his watch outside the room, then sprint off down the corridor.
He was back an hour later to look in on them. "How did it go?" Nora asked.
Wilson looked at her searchingly, and apparently decided to humor her by replying. "All right, I guess. Except I was a bit out of breath when I got there. I was a few minutes late."
"I hope you told them why," Nora said. Wilson shrugged, and she knew he hadn't.
Jack was unchanged and Wilson left a short while later.
A couple of hours later, Cuddy's assistant came by with a message. Dr. Cuddy knew about Jack, and was terribly sorry to bother Nora, but was there any chance Nora could come by for a few minutes?
Glad to take a break, and wondering what this was about, Nora went down to Dr. Cuddy's office. Inside she found Cuddy with two other senior doctors from the Management Board who she knew by name and reputation only. She realized suddenly that this was the interview panel.
"Nora, thank you for coming to see us, I'm so sorry to take you away from Jack right now," Cuddy said, formally but with real warmth and regret. "This will only take a few minutes. You know we're interviewing for Dr. Collins' replacement?" Nora nodded. Cuddy went on, "You'll be working with the successful candidate, of course, and he or she will be the fourth Head of Oncology you'll have worked under. You're the longest serving member of staff at this hospital. The decision rests with this panel, of course, but I also value your opinion, Nora. Would you mind giving us your impression of each of the candidates? Confidentially, of course, and entirely off-the-record."
Nora had never been asked to do anything like this before. Previous Deans of Medicine would not have thought of such a thing. Nora sat, astonished, for a moment, gathering her thoughts. Then she gave short, polite, accurate assessments of each of the candidates other than Wilson, making it clear she'd be happy to work with any of them. The panel listened attentively.
"And Dr. Wilson?" Cuddy said. Her voice was absolutely neutral.
Nora looked Cuddy straight in the eye, and realized Cuddy had her own favorite and was doing her damnedest to make sure he got the job.
"I would be very happy to work for Dr. Wilson," Nora said, and was pleased to hear how steady and measured her voice was. "You'll know of course that my husband has cancer and Dr. Wilson is his primary doctor. This has given me the opportunity to see Dr. Wilson from both sides, as a colleague and as a patient. I have the highest opinion of Dr. Wilson in both capacities. He cares passionately for his patients; no other doctor cares more. He will go to any lengths to help them. He was late for his interview with you today because he was reluctant to leave Jack when Jack... took a turn for the worse earlier. I believe Dr. Wilson to be an extremely competent medical professional, although others are better placed than me to judge that. He is considerate and kind to staff, he is very hard-working."
Nora paused, wondering if she'd said too much. But she had to tackle the House-thing, that was bound to be what those stuffed shirts behind the desk were worried about. "Dr. Wilson is also very loyal to his friends. I have the greatest admiration for the way he's helped Dr. House over the last two years. He's shown remarkable patience and resilience. If it hadn't been for Dr. Wilson, Dr. House would not be working today and being the asset to this hospital that he is. And Dr. Wilson has managed to help while not letting it affect the quality of his own work in the slightest."
"Thank you, Nora." Cuddy's voice was kind, and Nora hoped Cuddy had what she wanted. "I'm sure you'll be wanting to get back to Jack now. I hope you'll be discreet about this conversation."
"Of course," Nora said, and left, thoughts racing through her head, ideas as to other things she could have said, other points she could have made, too late.
She arrived back in Jack's room to find Wilson was back, standing at the foot of Jack's bed, reading print-outs. His face was somber.
Nora immediately forgot what had just happened in Cuddy's office.
"How is he?" she asked, and dreaded the answer she knew was coming.
Wilson motioned for her to sit down. She did so. Wilson sat down beside her.
"Nora, he's not responding. He's dying, and there's nothing more we can do." Wilson's voice was quiet.
Nora stared at him, and although she had known what he had been going to say, could almost have predicted the words, somehow they came as the most enormous shock. She looked into Wilson's eyes, searching for something, anything to contradict what he was saying, give her hope, but they gave the same message. And Nora, who hadn't cried once in front of Wilson before, found tears brimming out of her eyes and rolling down her cheeks, as the message finally hit home. Jack was dying. This was it.
Wilson reached out and touched her lightly on the arm. She grasped his hand, seeking comfort, seeking warmth, life. Then she dropped it, and turned to Jack, and clutched his hand; warm, but still, and pale.
Wilson said, so quietly she could hardly hear, "I can up his morphine."
Nora knew what he meant. Not every doctor would have offered this. Somehow she wasn't surprised that Wilson had, though she'd never thought about it before.
"Yes. Please. Thank you," she whispered.
Wilson got up, and flipped the blinds shut over the glass panel in the wall. He then moved over to the medical equipment that was hooked up to Jack, and Nora looked away, not wanting to see what he was doing. She clutched at Jack's arm and started talking to him, heedless now of Wilson's presence; it was meaningless babble she knew, but maybe some of it was getting through, maybe Jack could hear her in there somewhere, she'd said I love you so many times over the years yet somehow it was really important to say it now.
She had no idea how much time passed before she heard Wilson say to a nurse in the background, "Time of death..." and then his hand was on her shoulder. She clutched it and cried into it.
Dimly she was aware that someone knocked on the door, that Wilson left the room, and she was on her own for awhile, grieving.
Gradually the room and the world returned around her, and she sat quietly, numb and exhausted now, the odd tear still occasionally escaping out of her eyes. When the door next opened she turned to see who it was. It was Wilson, and he looked dazed and confused. He came and sat down next to her.
"I got the job," he said. "And I've never cared less about such a thing in my life."
Nora knew exactly what he meant. "Congratulations," she whispered, her voice hoarse from crying. "I'm glad."
As far as Nora knew, Wilson never did find out about the conversation she'd had with his interview panel; certainly she never mentioned it to him.
TBC