A House, MD fan-fic by entercreativename.
Summary: Brief snapshots of everyone's holidays.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, I just admire what Fox and its affiliates have created.
Chapter 7 - Auld Lang Syne
It had been a tough day, one of the worst in a long time. He had a patient die today, and he was closer to her than he was willing to admit to anyone, let alone his wife. He was just glad he had been there for her in the end. His wife didn't understand this, and he wished that she did. He had been home for forty-five minutes and every one of them was longer than the last. He was home alone as she was obviously out again. It started slowly at first; she'd claim to be at work. Then, he'd occasionally see her out on "business dinners." Now, it was just a common understanding that she was sleeping around.
Of course, he did so as well.
The relationship he had woven with his wife early on was built on a trust of understanding that he had changed, and that she changed too to match. But tonight, how could she betray her Catholic past and commit adultery on the holiest of days in the religion she grew up in?
He could never answer that question. All he wanted to do was sleep.
It had been ages since he practiced his religion, and it no longer meant much to him. He sinned, and the more he sinned, the less God meant to him. He had seen so many people die, that in the end, it didn't seem to be about beliefs but rather that you were comfortable and lived a full life.
He knew he did lead a full life. He also knew he was tired and that he didn't want to be in the same bed as his wife had slept in ages before. He went to the cupboard near the stairs and retrieved a pillow and blanket left there for whichever cheating spouse wanted it for the night.
Cheating spouse? Is this what it had come down to?
He took the pillow and blanket, and turned off the light. It had been about fifteen minutes when he noticed a taxi pull into the driveway. She was home earlier than normal tonight? What was different? He knew he should ask but he instead pretended to be asleep as she walked into the room. He could smell the cheap vodka on her as she walked past towards the bedroom.
When he knew she was asleep, he realized he couldn't spend anymore time there. He hated what their relationship had become. So, he picked up his things, put on some clean clothes from an overnight bag, and left to go to the hospital; he had paperwork to fill out on his patient from today.
When he got to the hospital, he could tell it had to have been a rough night for the doctors on-call. A patient, a Jane Doe, had apparently coded three times that evening. He felt bad for her. She had been buying presents for needy children to hand out shortly before the car accident that landed her into the PPTH ICU. He knew that his best friend's foreign doctor was on-call that night there. He felt bad for him and wanted to wish him the best when he saw that the younger doctor was finally asleep. Lucky kid. He saw the chart for Jane Doe; R. Chase announced the time of death at 1:26 AM. It was now closer to 2:30.
He got to his own office and saw a new case being referred to oncology: Sammy Conzueles. He opened the file: admitted by E. Foreman for pneumonia. Chest x-ray and blood work showed more than just that though. The kid had full-blown leukemia. Hope ran out of the department chair's heart as he knew he could not save the kid. He closed the file and knew he wanted to be somewhere familiar and comforting, not his office at the hospital.
He put away the files and paperwork. It was too late to be thinking about death. He instead took out his keys and headed for his best friend's apartment.
When he got to the apartment, he noticed his friend's sports car was not there at the time. The door was locked, but no bother since he had a key. He opened the door; his friend was out, leaving his pet rat, Steve McQueen, alone to nap in his little cage on the coffee table. As he walked in he noticed several messages on his friend's answering machine. He wondered who would have called him on Christmas, as he was his only friend, and then he remembered the number of call girls his friend kept well paid. At least someone is getting lucky.
He took off his coat and sat down. Within a few minutes, James Wilson was fast asleep on his best friend's couch.