FLASHBACK
He had just transferred from his resident post on to Boston. Here, he could finally follow his much wanted dream in a fellowship in oncology. He would be much younger than most of his peers, probably all of them. But that didn't matter. He would make up for his lack of experience with hard work and patience. It was what enabled him to skip several years back in high school. He graduated younger than anyone had in the past ten years. His residency had been pretty short also what with him given the opportunity of a fellowship here by his rather fatherly mentor.
Twenty-eight, and the world was at his feet. He was going to help those who had no life left to live. He would be comforting those whose deaths were inevitable. Cancer was what he had entered medicine for. The chance to be there for all those who would die. And save all those who may not have had a chance before. He wanted to help those who were suffering. He cared about them. Six years after leaving med-school and he still cried at night when one of his patients died. Sometimes it was all too much. Many nights a four in the morning when the dead faces still haunted him, preventing him from sleep, he wished that he cares a little less.
It had been a couple of months and he was beginning to get used to the new way at Boston. It wasn't much different to the way that he enjoyed before. He was beginning to know everyone off by name. He knew which was the best time to go down to the cafeteria before all the good food was taken but also when it wasn't busy. He could name most of the regular drunks or addicts to the clinic. He knew the nurses and which ones weren't married in particular. He was nice to them and in return they were nice to him. Actually there were few people in the hospital who weren't friends with James Wilson. He just got along with everyone. Apart from one man.
His name was Gregory House. He was moody and sarcastic. He didn't care for hard-work or rules or even for patients. He was rude and aggressive and downright mean most of the time. Yet he was brilliant. He was the best doctor in the entire place. And Wilson resented this. He never did any work. He avoided clinic duty and never did any research. A man like that didn't deserve to be good. And Wilson couldn't help but admire him. Wilson needed House to like him.
It was one day when Wilson was sat late at night trying to work when all he could he was the constant noise of somebody skateboarding down the corridors. Every couple of minutes, they zoomed past while he was trying to research a new method of treating terminal patients to make them feel more comfortable. It was beginning to really irate him. It was probably some unruly orderly who believed the hospital to be empty and therefore could disregard all of the rules. Wilson left the lounge and entered the corridor. Just as the man was coming passed. At high speed! He couldn't slow down or avoid Wilson in such a narrow corridor. They collided. Wilson ended up knocked to the floor with the man on top of him.
It was House!
"What do you think that you are going?" Wilson demanded trying to squirm out from underneath House. House didn't budge though.
"I like to do something active that doesn't involve my mind when I'm trying to solve cases. Usually it doesn't involve running berks like you over."
"Are you going to get off me?"
"I thought since we are down here that I might as well make it worth your while," House responded mostly sarcastic but with a faint hint of serenity in his voice.
"Get of me!"
House jumped up and offered his hand to Wilson who ignored it. "Who are you anyway? One of those Wonder Boys from oncology?"
"My name is James Wilson."
"Oh, a Jimmy."
"My name is James," he insisted.
"Alright then. Do you want to go grab a beer?"