Friday

Wilson lay awake in the early morning hours staring at the ceiling, well before his scheduled wake up call. The previous night's sleep had been restless as fragments of dreams about the petty fights he and Sam had been having at home left him feeling as if he simply hadn't slept at all. He glanced over at the phone in his room with a fleeting hope that maybe Sam had called in the middle of the night and that he'd slept through the ringing. The light was dark. His hopes dashed, Wilson returned his gaze to the ceiling and sighed.

Eventually Wilson rolled himself out of bed and absently wandered into the bathroom to relieve his bladder. He regarded himself in the mirror, the sallow color of his skin, the dark circles under his eyes. He thought he looked 10 years older than he did when he checked into the hotel 2 days earlier. As he started the shower and peeled off his undershirt and boxers, he decided to make it a point to stop at the front desk to see if maybe Sam had left a message for him there.

Wilson took his time showering and grooming, much as he had the previous day, in an effort to maintain an illusion of normalcy. He chose his clothes carefully from the garment bag and dressed with care. When he was finished he once again noticed by his watch that it was too early to leave for the convention center, so he sat in the chair by the window with his fist under his chin and watched the world go by on the river.

House woke slowly, feeling mildly hungover from the previous night. For the briefest of moments he thought he was at home in his own bed, until he glanced at the clock on the nightstand. This is not my bedroom. His next thought as the time on the clock clicked over another minute was, Oh, fuck. I'm late. He rolled out of bed, pausing to rest his pounding head in his hands while the world corrected itself and went into the bathroom, sighing in relief at the first piss of the day. He dove into the shower just long enough to clear his brain. Walking back into the main room while he rubbed a towel over his body to get rid of some of the excess water, House grabbed his bag from the floor and tossed it on the bed. He rummaged through it, pulling out a t-shirt and rumpled dress shirt to wear with the jacket and slacks from the previous day. After throwing his clothes on, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, noting that he looked only slightly worse for wear, even a bit on the rakish side since he couldn't be bothered to take the time to shave. I'm late enough as it is, he thought, closing the door behind him.

Wilson sat bolt straight up in the chair, momentarily confused. It suddenly dawned on him that he'd fallen asleep and, glancing at his watch, discovered that he was now late for the second full day of the conference. He grabbed the hotel key from the night stand and hurried out the door.

House caught a break at the elevators, the doors on one of the cars sliding open to release a couple of drunken hotel guests back from a night of revelry. He dodged around them and pushed the button to the lobby just as they cleared the door, fervently hoping there would be no stops along the way. Two floors later, the elevator came to a stop and House inwardly groaned as the doors slid open and the idealistic-looking young doctor (Something Wilson, he reminded himself) he'd followed around the day before darted in to stand alongside him. Neither man acknowledged the other as the elevator continued down to the lobby, although House found himself watching the younger man from his periphery.

As they exited into the lobby, House made for the entrance while noting that Wilson stopped to talk to the clerk at the front desk. House didn't give the man another thought as he walked through the humid morning to the convention center.

Wilson checked with the front desk to see if Sam had left any messages for him, remarking to her that he'd been expecting a call from his wife and wasn't sure if the message light on the phone in his room was working. The clerk typed for a moment into her computer and verified that the light was in fact working, then reached down under the desk for something and handed Wilson a thick Express package. He looked at it, confused, before thanking the clerk and hurrying out the front doors.

House wandered into one of the main lecture halls, interrupting the speaker, who shot an angry glare at House before picking up where he left off. House had a brief flash of being back in medical school, where such things happened rather frequently, as he ignored the glare and made himself comfortable leaning against the back wall. He listened long enough to figure out that he was once again in an oncology lecture before tuning the speaker out, idly wondering how long it would be before the lunch break so he could get the hell out of there.

Wilson breathed a sigh of relief as he crossed the threshold into the coolness of the convention center. He had forgotten to bring a schedule with him, still flustered from having arrived late and trying to figure out what was in the Express package he carried with him. Wilson ducked into the first lecture hall he came to. He heard the speaker's voice stop and could feel angry eyes following him as he made his way into a seat at the back of the hall. Only when he was seated did the speaker resume his lecture. Wilson found himself only half-listening to a seminar on fetal arrhythmia while he took a closer look at the Express package. The sender's name on the packing slip read "Diamond Fairbairn", with a return address in Trenton. He desperately wanted to know what was inside, but couldn't bring himself to open it. Especially not there.

When the lecture was over, Wilson made his way onto the main concourse with the rest of the doctors and administrators who had been in attendance. He stopped to pick up another schedule and looked over his choices for the afternoon session as he wandered through the exhibit hall toward the dining room. He balanced a plate on the Express package and filled it with a little bit of everything from the buffet, only then realizing just how hungry he was. He would have preferred to sit alone but all of the tables were occupied, either full of people who laughed and joked and obviously knew each other or sitting 2 or 3 to a table, spread out to give the illusion of dining alone. Wilson chose a table near the back where a few other men and women sat eating, occasionally chatting amongst themselves, and eyed the Express package next to him while he ate.

The moment the speaker finished his closing remarks, House was out the door, making a beeline for the entrance. His stomach was growling, which only served to make him more irritable as he wove his way through the lunchtime crowd and gawking tourists towards the diner. Dodging around a guy wearing an obnoxious-looking Hawaiian shirt, Bermuda shorts, black socks and sandals, and carrying a plastic hurricane glass containing some foul-looking brew, House slid through the door of the diner. He took a moment to enjoy the near-silence as the door closed behind him, the rattle of an ancient fan providing the only air movement in the place. Again he was pleased to see that only locals occupied the counter and booths, the diner busier than it had been the night before. Sliding into a booth as far from the door as he could get, House felt the tenseness begin to ease from his body as tantalizing aromas from the kitchen hit his nose.

It only took a couple of minutes for the waitress to approach his table, carrying an oversized mug and a fresh pot of coffee. She looked to House to be a younger version of Lisette and moved through the diner with a grace and a familiarity with the layout of the establishment as if she'd been there for years.

"Y'all must be Doc House. Lisette told me to expect you," the waitress stated as she set the mug on the table and filled it.

House nodded as realization dawned. "And you must be Aimee. What's good today?"

Aimee chuckled at House's observation. "Bobby's got a snapper soup that's been simmerin' since early this morning. You interested?"

"Absolutely."

House ordered a soda to go with the soup, and sat back to watch the chaos of the foot traffic outside. He finished his coffee while he waited, enjoying the inherent sweetness of chicory in the blend and made a mental note to pick up a bag or two to bring home with him after the conference.

Aimee returned with a large deep bowl of what initially looked very much like the gumbo House had eaten the night before but with more of a tomato base and a hint of sherry. It was thick, almost like a stew, loaded with chunks of turtle meat and diced hard-boiled egg, the creole spices delighting his senses. As House tucked into his meal, Aimee returned with his drink, a loaf of traditional french bread and a small plastic pot of butter. He nodded his thanks in between bites as he continued to eat like a man on a mission.

By the time Aimee finished her circuit of checking on the other diners, House was using the last slice of french bread to try and capture the essences that remained in the bowl. She smiled and nodded in approval as she approached his table and saw him lean back and relax with a look of satisfaction.

"Looks like snapper soup agrees with you, Doc."

House glanced up at Aimee with a small smile of satisfaction. "It did."

"Got room for pie?"

House glanced at his watch, realizing that the afternoon session was about to get underway. He took all of 2 seconds to decide.

"Always."

Aimee took his bowl and left, returning with a slice easily a full quarter of an entire pecan pie and a fresh pot of coffee. Not that House was complaining - it tasted so good he was pretty sure he could have eaten the whole pie himself. When he was finished, he glanced at his watch again, sighing, and reluctantly made his way to the register.

Back out on the street, House found that the lunch crowd had thinned considerably and consisted mostly of annoying tourists, well on their way to becoming annoying drunken tourists. He hurried back to the convention center, for once breathing a sigh of relief to be back inside. Glancing around the concourse, House spotted Wilson. He noticed that the guy seemed to be a lot more distracted than he had been the previous day. House also noticed that he was carrying an Express envelope he hadn't had before. Intrigued, House decided to follow the new doctor around again for the rest of the day.