Summary: 'No matter what happens, this will come back and bite you in the ass.' He hadn't changed in nine years. Wilson focused. One shot based upon something no one really has seemed to jump upon…
A/N: Hope you enjoy )
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His white coat flew behind him as he raced down the hallway towards the ER. The page he had received was different from the ones he usually got from House, this said simply: 'Jimmy, you should see this. Quick. Meet you in ER. G.' Cuddy caught a glance of him speeding down the hallway and ran after him.
"Dr. Wilson, what's the rush? I've got a-" She tried but she was interrupted by him.
"I just got paged from House. Says it's important. I'll get back to you ASAP, I promise Lisa." He looked over his shoulder, smiled as much as he could when he was worried and kept on down the hallway.
The words EMERGENCY ROOM blazoned across the banner towards the busy ward, rushed beeping and stressed doctors filled the room as he walked up to the frustrated nurse behind the counter, he silently thanked whoever it was who put one of his ex-Oncology nurses behind the counter.
"Dr. Wilson, what are you doing down here?" Wendy said behind the counter.
"Uh, Dr. House just paged me, could you direct me to him?" He puffed out; he never usually had to rush down three floors.
"Yeah, he just passed that way with three younger doctors behind him, into room 19."
"Thanks darl'." He flashed that boyish smile of his and went on his way down the corridor.
He turned the corner towards rooms 15-25 and standing promptly before room 19, his best friend leant against the wall next to the door, downing another two Vicodin.
"What is it, House?" He stopped in front of House, trying to sneak a peek into the room over his shoulder.
"39 year old male, gun shots to the head and chest, in a critical condition," he started, only to be interrupted by Wilson.
"So what? Regular ER case, even you shouldn't be down here. What so interesting that made you jump on this case?" He put his hands on his waist, pushing the white lab coat up past his shaking hands.
"He's homeless and we have no way to identify him. Foreman was doing his rounds down here and called me for a look-see. Thought I would be interested at the resemblance between this guy and another guy we know. Got any thoughts?" He lifted the wooden coffee stirring stick up to his mouth, nibbling on the end.
"Why did you call me down here?" He lifted a hand to the bridge of his nose; he was in the middle of overdue paperwork and was already frustrated beyond belief.
"We thought you could identify him." He said before pushing the door open to bear the patient in question, tubes winding over him, his purple and beaten eyes edged open enough to show the mocha colours beyond them.
Wilson inhaled sharply, realising that he could identify this man. He hadn't changed in nine years.
"Rob, you don't get it. It wasn't meant to be like this," his voice was lighter but still weighed down the scene with heavy intention.
"But it is. I'm on the street; Mom and Dad couldn't care less about whether I'm alive or dead. I shouldn't matter to you." His chocolate eyes pierced slowly, eyes fixed on the man in a leather coat who stood only a metre away from him.
"You're my brother-"
"And I'm their son, they don't care."
"But I'm your brother, you always have a home with me," his brown hair hung in front of his face, closing over the glistening tears that fell down his face.
"It doesn't matter Jimmy, they'll disown you too when you did nothing but help me. I can't pull you down like that."
"Don't you understand why they disowned you?"
"Sure, I understand. The people that are meant to understand didn't. They kicked me out as soon as I got out."
"Maybe you have a place on the streets," his eyes narrowed, his pale face glowing in the moonlight, "maybe they're doing the right thing. You had a family and you broke it. You had a home and you lost it. It's your fight, not mine."
"No matter what happens, this will come back and bite you in the ass." His voice turned sour, his long black coat flowed as he turned on his heel and walked off down the baron street, leaving his distraught brother standing on the corner near the picket fence.
Loud beeping brought him out of the brief flashback to look upon that brother he hadn't seen since that fateful night. The machines all started to beep and House's ducklings rushed to the man's side, still unbeknownst to who he was. Wilson stood, perfectly capable of running to his brother's side, but he chose to stay perfectly still.
"Wilson!" Cameron shouted over the beeping and beckoned him to the bedside. He sighed and obliged, he couldn't be shaken by occurrences like this when he was at work.
"What is it?" He looked at her, stared her in the eyes with look of indifference yet he refused to look at the patient before he was asked to.
"He asked to talk to you." She gulped, moving slightly out of the way to let him look at his brother.
"Jimmy boy, how are you?" His scratchy voice was the same as the last time he saw him.
"Better than you by the looks of it." He tried to smile like he always did but he could only muster a small pursed mouth.
The man lying across the bed let out a chuckle before managing a hacking cough for a minute as the beeping became louder.
"Look, you don't need to explain how, but I know I'm dying. We all gotta go sometime, spose. So I asked the doctor to get you down here because," he coughed again, still looking his brother in the eye, "I just wanted to let you know that I still love ya before I go."
"Really?" Wilson choked, smiling a little, tears pricking at the sides of his eyes; he hadn't seen his brother in so long and was still amazed by his sense of forgiveness.
"Yeah, and everyone else. Even after all I said. I was screwed up. Now look at me."
"Well, I," Wilson wanted to say that he loved his brother back, with his best friend and younger doctors in the room, he didn't want to set an example of himself, but then he realised that his brother was in fact dying after the beeping got even louder and he didn't care, "I love you too."
The weak man on the bed reached up for what looked like a hug, so Wilson bent down and embraced him, letting him back down on the bed after finishing.
"Bye, mate." Robert smiled, before his eyes shut and the beeping stopped, replaced by a single tone. The nurses surrounding the room looked onto Dr. Wilson, a good friend of theirs, standing with his brothers blood staining his perfect white coat and his face redder than they had ever seen. Tears continued to prick at the edge of his eyes as it took his courage to look down at his watch.
"Time of death, 3:46pm." He choked out, still shaken by his brother's sudden death after not seeing him after nine years.
He came away from the bedside and swiftly left the room, House still standing outside, sipping his coffee whilst watching his best friend walk out of the room and close the door, leaning heavily on it afterwards.
"Robert Wilson," he coughed, blinking and letting a single tear fall down his face.
"Glad you could be of service." House pursed his mouth into a small smile, watching his friend look up towards the ceiling and tears glistened, building up in his eyes.
"Yeah, my comeuppance."
"What?" He raised his eyebrow.
"Later House. Much later." He scoffed, snatching the blue file from House's hands, which he had held for him and took his way back up to the Oncology ward. Tonight, unlike other nights, he thought he would rather spend it with Julie, that soft comfort he found at home.
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Reviews appreciated. Flames accepted, but not so appreciated. Thanks for reading )