W.S.C: Any living arrangement would be better than what they have right now.
Mm: Glad you liked it. I've been moving really slow with this whole 'love' thing.
Esuedros: Eventually they'll get better at fixing things...Ha...I hope, anyway.
BigBluSky: Ha. Yes. And omg...another update!
Lovesbones: Yeah, other characters will eventually make more of an appearance. Especially House since they're getting so close to Wilson.
Shelby: Thank you!
Miralinda: Thanks! Here's Wilson's vet visit.
Puppy: Know what else happens when you disappear? I discuss with your friends how they're not real and simply figments of your imagination. xD LOL. Dunk!DragQueen!Hawaiin!Wilson ftw!
Jungle: Heyyy. There's been a few other happy endings...sorta. xP
Library: Thanks a bunch!
Shan: Thank you!
Little: Thanks!
Mjadec13: It just builds the suspense!
Kay: You'll just have to wait and see. Hehe.
Charmed: Finally have been able to update. Woo!
Pao: Thank you!
Boo: I have no plans on giving this story up.
Captain: Thank you so much!
Esuedros: I'm still here!
Floating: Wilson to the rescue! A good dose of Wilson fixes everything, am I right?
Ilessthree: Getting out of bed is so overrated.
Y'all don't wanna hear all the long stories of why I update so slow. So anyway. Here's an update!
Wilson's POV:
The chairs in the veterinarian's office are ten times more uncomfortable than that of the chairs in the waiting room at the hospital. Pulling at the collar of your shirt and pretending not to see everyone else staring, you adjust Batman on your lap so he won't squirm off and fall to the floor. It's only logical that they don't know what happened and are simply looking at Batman in concern, but something in you is convinced they're all disgusted that you would drug up your dog. I didn't drug him. It's not even my dog! Your thoughts don't seem to get the message across and other pet owners continue to study the only animal in the room that's flopping around and making a puddle of drool on the floor.
"Excuse me!" A shrill voice breaks through the multiple animal noises in the room. "Excuse me, Mister!"
Small tennis shoes suddenly appear inches in front of you on the floor and you realize that you're the one being spoken to. Clearing your throat, you slowly lift your head to come face to face with a girl who can't be any older than five. "Yes?" you answer rather sheepishly, readjusting Batman on your lap again.
"What happened to your dog?" the child asks, drawing out each word and cocking her head to the side. She squats down so she's eye-level with Batman and stares at him. "Why's he acting so weird?" she questions, resting her hands on her knees. "Is he sick?"
"He just ate some bad food," you stammer quickly, glancing up as one of the vets walks through the door. "He'll be okay though."
"James Wilson?" Your escape stands in the doorway clad in forest green scrubs and a white lab coat. "James Wilson and…" She glanced down at the clipboard she's holding, taking a moment to tuck a few strands of blonde hair behind her ear. "Hulk?"
On second thought, you'd rather stay with the child. "Right here." Carefully ushering the child out of your way, you get to your feet and clutch Batman against your chest. The veterinarian glances over at you and you look down, avoiding her piercing blue eyes as you walk over. "This is…I think his name is Hulk." You motioned toward Batman with your freehand.
"Think?" The vet confirms. She motions for you to follow and walks back through the door. "It's not your dog?"
"A friend's," you respond, shaking your head. "He ate something off of the floor." You stop behind her when you enter an exam room.
"Do you know what it was?" She turns to face you. "Dr. Adler, by the way," she introduces herself. "If you'd put the dog here." She motions to the metal table in the middle of the room.
"Some kind of drug," you answer with an inaudible sigh, placing Batman on the table. He's still squirming, so you keep your hand on his back to hold him still. You realize you should have gotten that information before you left Remy. "I'm not sure what kind."
"Over the counter medicine? Street drugs?" Dr. Adler tries to jog your memory as she grabs a cart of vet instruments and pulls it over closer to the table. "If you can't give me the exacts, he may need his stomach pumped."
"I really have no idea," you answer, shaking your head. You grab your phone from your pocket and flip it open, searching to see if you can find Cameron or Remy's cell phone number. "It wasn't - I didn't…" You feel like sighing again, not wanting to cause even more issues for Cameron. "He was at my house and I wasn't watching him. He could have gotten into anything."
"You shouldn't volunteer to watch someone's dog if you're not going to bother to puppy-proof you home," Dr. Adler admonishes. She shakes her head and motions your hand out of the way, replacing it with her own. "You can wait in the waiting room."
You open your mouth to speak then close it again and rub your face. "Just keep me updated." Shoving your phone deep into your pocket again, you turn and head out of the exam room, walking back to the waiting room to wait for news.
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The pictures that litter the walls of the waiting room look like they belong in a child's bedroom. Images of cartoon dogs playing a board game and cats with large heads stalking mice swirl in your brain as there's not much more to think about. You could be thinking about patients at the hospital, how Cameron and Remy are holding up, or even just what's taking so long with Batman, but focusing isn't easy.
"I have a bird too." The little girl from before you took Batman into the exam room is standing in front of you again. "Oh, and this one time, I brought a frog in the house, but I couldn't keep it. D'you like frogs?" she asks, not giving you enough time to answer. "I like frogs. But they eat bugs. I don't like bugs. I don't think anyone likes bugs. Do you like bugs? That's weird if you like bugs."
You glance toward the woman who you assume is her mother. She sinks back in the chair and lifts the magazine she's holding higher so it covers her entire face.
The child rests her hands on your legs and kicks at the floor, tilting her head to the side. "Where's your puppy?" she questions. "It's taking a lot time. I have to wait for my cat. She's having babies. And they have to cut her open and take them out. They get to see her insides. But it's okay. They'll make sure all her insides stay inside of her. Except her babies. They have to take them out. Oh, and-"
"James Wilson?" Dr. Adler appears in the doorway again.
"I'm sorry, but that's me." You pat the little girl on the head and gingerly move her hands from your leg then get to your feet. "How is he?" you inquire, walking toward the vet. "Can I take him home?"
"He should be fine," Dr. Adler answers, tucking her clipboard under her arm. "We're going to keep him overnight for observation though. If you want to stop by in the morning, you'll most likely be able to pick him up. I'd recommend sending his real owners for him though just out of precaution for his safety."
"I promise this won't happen again," you assure her, figuring that Remy will be too busy with Cameron for a trip to the Vet's office in the morning. "I'll take him straight from here to his owner." Glancing around, you scratch your head. "You're not going to report that I brought in a drugged dog, right?"
"My main concern is the animal," Dr. Adler replies. "What you have in your home is your business." She hands over the clipboard. "I just need you to sign so we can keep him overnight."
You grab the clipboard and a pen from her and quickly scribble down your name beside the blue 'x'. "Take good care of him," you state, handing the items back. The last thing any of you need is for something to happen to the dog.
"The best," she assures with a slight smile. "Go puppy-proof your home."
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After a stop at Walmart, you find yourself driving back to Remy's apartment with a puppy-gate taking up the entire back seat of your car. It had taken at least an hour to choose the right one. There were wooden ones, metal ones, plastic ones, ones that folded, ones that latched onto the wall, etc. You finally decided on a simple plastic gate that could easily be leaned against the wall.
You park and glance back to see if there's a way to move the box in case Cameron and Remy decide to return home with you. Remy shouldn't be driving while coming down from drugs and, well, Cameron shouldn't be driving period. Unfortunately, there's no space to fit another person and there's not enough room to fit both of them up front without looking suspicious to passing-by police.
Exhaling, you climb out of the car and walk toward Remy's apartment, wondering if the two of them are still sleeping. It's obvious they both need a good sleep. It makes you hesitant to knock, afraid that you'll wake them both up. Once you reach the door, you tap it lightly.
"Who is it?" Remy's voice immediately responds.
"Wilson," you answer, placing a hand flat against the wall, next to the door. "I just wanted to let you know that everything is okay."
"Can you come in?" Remy asks. "The door is open."
You slide your hand down the wall and to the door handle then turn it and push the door open. "Are you two okay?" you ask immediately, concerned for both of them without even needing a new reason.
Remy is sitting upright on the chair with Cameron curled up down near the lifted part of the reclined chair, her face buried against Remy's lap. Letting out a long exhale, Remy slides her fingers through Cameron's hair and slowly shakes her head. She opens her mouth to speak then shuts it again, twirling Cameron's hair loosely around her fingers.
Cameron curls her legs up tighter, murmuring inaudibly and hunching her shoulders. Her grip on Remy's bare leg tightens, her nails visibly digging into the skin.
"Shhh," Remy tries to shush her, her hand almost instinctively grabbing a plastic Tupperware container from the arm of the chair. The hint of the scent of vomit in the air signals exactly what it's for. "You're okay," she murmurs, seeming suddenly oblivious to you, her entire attention focused on Cameron. "Just sleep, Sweetheart."
Cameron's shoulders loosen again and she wraps her arm around her head, entangling her fingers in her own hair. She lets out a long sigh as Remy rests her hands on her back, slumping further against the younger doctor's lap.
"The two of you can't stay here alone," you cut in, shaking your head. "You're going to exhaust yourself. She's already exhausted herself."
"Yeah, I know," Remy murmurs, her eyes focused on Cameron. She swallows and closes her eyes, lifting one hand to rub her forehead. "She wants us to stay at your house. I'm not going to argue with her."