Wilson In The Evening: A Sequel, part 2
By: lbc
Title: Wilson: "I shall return."
Pairing: House and Wilson
Rating: mature adults
Genre: slash
Disclaimer: I sure wish I owned these characters.
Words: 1003
Summary: Wilson returns to Princeton
Note: Continuation of the arc.
It was late Wednesday afternoon, definitely not the time to be driving north on Interstate 95, but James Wilson was almost home. A sharp pain filled his body as he realized that Princeton had not been his home for six weeks, but Greg House still plundered rampantly over the medical territory of Princeton-Plainsboro, so from that point of view, it was home.
Wilson was exhausted. The meeting with the administrator at Hopkins had not been easy. After all Wilson had only been there for six weeks, and now he wanted to take a long weekend . . . a very long weekend. Wilson shook his head as he silently realized how much he hoped that these five days would also mean a lost weekend for two individuals who would launch themselves on New York and take on the Monster Machines.
He had talked to Cuddy and managed to finagle her into accepting the need for a briefing about the past six weeks. It was as good a reason as any for Wilson's presence at the hospital that he had left so precipitately a month and a half before. Parking the Lexus, he looked at his watch. House often went home before 6:00 pm, and it was now after 7:00, but Wilson had been held up by the usual traffic. It would wreck all of his plans if the glorious pain in the ass, Greg House, had already gone home.
As he approached his office . . . well really Mark Vestry's office, he saw the slender figure of Allison Cameron. A chill of fear ran down Wilson's back as he saw the look of surprise and concern on her face.
"Allison's, what's wrong? Your boss keeping you working at this hour?"
"Doctor . . . Doctor Wilson, I didn't know you were back. Thank heavens; we've been trying to reach you for the last few hours. Dr. House collapsed."
Wilson's eyes widened slightly as he blurted out, "Where is he?"
Cameron immediately headed down the corridor towards a small private room. Inside lay an almost emaciated figure wrapped in white: Greg House. Wilson immediately looked at the charts and personally checked vital signs. House seemed to be sleeping at the moment.
Cameron studied the concern on the handsome doctor's face and whispered, "We got the tox screen back. He must have O'Ded on Vicodin. He was in the clinic. Said something to the patient and then passed out. He's been conscious and in a lot of pain."
"Why's Cuddy treating him?"
"He won't let anybody else." A blush appeared on the young woman's face. "He says that her bedside manner is the best in the business when she leans over."
Wilson smiled, feeling better. If House could still be sarcastic, then maybe this wasn't a sign of some aftermath from the infarction. "Is Cuddy still here?"
"Yes, she was planning to stay all night, if Doctor House wasn't better."
"Tell her to go home; my doctor's here now."
Both Wilson and Cameron looked at the figure on the bed. House's blue eyes were staring into Wilson's brown ones. Cameron seemed mystified. She knew that Wilson and House were each other's prescribing physicians, but House hadn't seen Wilson in six weeks and the hospital grapevine had speculated about a serious falling out between the two men.
Wilson smiled shyly at his friend; then looked at Allison Cameron. "Thank you, Doctor Cameron, I think you can tell Dr. Cuddy to go home now. I'll be around . . . for awhile."
Greg House's blue eyes followed Cameron's departing figure but said nothing until she left. Trying to clear his throat, House stopped, looking exhausted. Wilson helped House drink some water then wiped his face with a wet cloth.
Wilson wanted to take the fallen man into his arms as he had done so many years before, but he held back. House closed his eyes tiredly then opened them and whispered, "I . . . didn't do it deliberately."
Wilson nodded then responded, "Tell me what happened."
"I think I took one Vicodin too many. I was feeling . . . pain. I had clinic duty. Cuddy has been on a real tear about me doing the hours. I haven't been able to blackmail the kids so I've had to do every damn hour for the last . . . six weeks. That idiot Cruikshank shouldn't be allowed to practice medicine. He'd be better off with a doll and pins . . . speaking of that, maybe he put some sort of curse on me."
Wilson looked sympathetically, but remotely at House, which wasn't easy. "Cruikshank doesn't have much of a personality, but then neither do you, so what happened?"
House sighed, "He got the wrong exam room and thought I wanted a consult. Just then I was giving a pelvic exam to a woman patient and in he walks. She screams . . . he screams and the result was I took another Vicodin . . . only that was one too many and a few minutes later, I was out for the count."
If House hadn't looked so pathetic, Wilson would have laughed then hugged him. "Well, it looks like your vital signs are good. I think you're ready to break out of this place. Suppose I talk to Cuddy about getting you released so that you can go home?"
House, looking even more scruffy than usual, smiled briefly. "Thanks, but just one question, what are you doing here?"
James Wilson had not been Greg House's friend for 18 years without learning a few lessons. Using his best innocent face, he replied as he turned and left the room, "Oh, I stopped by to pick up my date before driving to New York."
TBC