Title: Jealousy: Makes My Blue Eyes, Green (2a/2)
By: lbc
Rating: For Mature Adults
Genre: slash
Note: Parts 2a and 2b complete the story.
James Wilson returned to his apartment, looking totally bedraggled and forlorn. He had gone to the hospital, even though it was House's day-off. He had gone to House's apartment - - nothing. Where was the damn man?
As he entered his apartment, he saw the bright, cheery - - almost perky face of his cousin, Thomas. "Hey Cous', where ya been? We better get goin' if we're going to get to see those BIG MONSTERS!" Thomas lightly punched his cousin in the arm as he shook his booty in tune to some music that only he could hear.
Wilson wiped his hand over his forehead. He was worried and totally exhausted. "Tom, I'm sorry; I should have told you before. Those aren't my tickets. The man who was here earlier today brought them over; we . . . uh were going to go, I guess; he never got a chance to tell me."
Thomas Wilson, a younger replica of his cousin, looked totally forlorn and disheartened. Then he raised his head and with a mischievous smile asked, "Well, maybe the guy doesn't want to go anymore; how about callin' him?"
Wilson felt his anger rising, but he managed to hold it back. "Tom, that man is Gregory House and . . . well, he's not feeling too kindly towards me right now so I don't know."
"Well, I'll ask him. Gee, that was THE Gregory House. Even I, a lowly peon have heard of him. Give me his phone number, and I'll call."
"No, Tom. Read my lips: I – do – not – know – where -- House is."
"Awww, come on Cous', you don't want those tickets to go to waste do ya?"
James Wilson felt a headache coming on. Now he remembered why he kept his "favorite" cousin at a safe distance, most of the time.
"All right, all right, I'll call Allison; she might know where to find him."
"Allison?"
Wilson grimaced and threw a glare at his cousin. "Put it back in your pants, Tom. She's a doctor and older than you . . . and a good friend of House's; so don't get any ideas."
Wilson's quickly checked Allison Cameron's phone number and then called.
"Hello?"
"Allison, it's James Wilson; I was wondering if you knew where your sarcastic boss was?"
The girlish voice seemed to hesitate and then she replied, "Well, as a matter of fact, I do; he's here."
So that's where he went for refuge. "Oh, well, I was wondering . . ."
Noise filled the air on the other end of the line as House's well-known sarcasm came through, "I want my tickets back and right now."
James Wilson's heart dropped; his mouth went dry. It was a moment before he responded in a whisper, "I'll send them over by messenger, right away."
"Hopefully, you won't get distracted with SOMEONE ELSE before doing so." With that sarcasm, Greg House turned the phone off.
For a moment, James Wilson stood in the spot near the phone, paralyzed. His eyes were closed as desolation swept through him. Not even when Greg House lay in a hospital bed fighting for his life had he lashed out at his friend like that. House must be on the edge of murder or . . . worse.
Finally, James Wilson turned around, looking at the expectant puppy look of his cousin. Clearing his throat, he said, "Tommy, Dr. House wants his tickets back; could you run them over to Dr. Cameron's apartment, please?"
James Wilson only called his cousin, Tommy, on those rare occasions when he was truly upset and on the edge of a supreme anger release; so, for once, the young man went low-key. Backing up slightly to stay out of the reach of the simmering older man, Tom Wilson started nodding his head like some bobble-headed figure. "Sure, Jim, be happy to . . . just tell me the address."
Wilson wrote the address on a piece of paper, saying nothing more. As he watched the younger man run out of the apartment, he felt as if a blackness was creeping in on him. For the last 18 years, Greg House had been his friend; it hadn't always been easy, but now James Wilson had done something that Greg House couldn't forgive, and James Wilson wasn't sure if he could forgive Greg House either.
Almost an hour later, Wilson's phone rang. "Jim, it's me, Tom. Listen, I'm not going to be back to the apartment for awhile. Me and Allison are going to go see THE MONSTER MACHINES so I'll see you when I see you. Bye."
"Tom?"
The only thing that James Wilson heard, however, was a click at the other end of the line. Wilson stood staring at the receiver as if it could give him answers. Why are Tom and Allison going? What happened to House? Why do I feel like the earth is going to open up and swallow me?
Exhaustion suddenly overwhelmed the much put-upon man. He collapsed into the nearest chair, hoping to slide into oblivion until, at least, Hanukkah, but as a warm, comforting stupor began to pale over him, there was a knock at the front door. Too drained to even try to go to the door, Wilson yelled out with what strength he could muster, "Come in, you couldn't do any more to me!"
A well-known figure appeared in the doorway as the door slowly opened. Wilson sat staring at the grungy, bearded, sad-eyed figure posed before him, with a moan Wilson collapsed back on the chair with the thought, Oh God, is my insurance paid up?
End of part 2a