After considerable debate with himself, Wilson decided to attend a symposium on Internal Medicine for Oncology, Neurology, Rheumatology, and Psychiatry. He walked into the lecture hall a few minutes early and took a seat in the back of the room. He would rather have been anywhere else but didn't want to be alone, especially in a strange city. He would take the small amount of solace he was able to find amongst others in his profession and the familiarity of the topic. It was just what he needed to distract him from the Express package that seemed to taunt him as it lay there on his lap. He listened to the speaker drone on about some of the new breakthroughs in molecular oncology research and related topics that he was already learning about in his residency, but found that he couldn't follow along with the accompanying PowerPoint presentation because his gaze kept drifting back to the large envelope. I should just get it over with, tear the damn thing open and see what's inside, he thought, even as he couldn't bring himself to actually do it.
House stood in the back of the lecture hall and watched his distracted quarry without being noticed. Judging from the topic of the symposium and others he had followed his target into, House concluded that this Wilson guy had chosen Oncology as his specialty. Either that or he's got a real thing for hanging out with dying patients. He could see that the Express package was still in Wilson's lap and looked to be unopened. He watched as the other man glanced up at the PowerPoint slide on the screen, then back down to the envelope. This continued for the length of the lecture, annoying House. Just open the fucking thing already! House yelled at him silently. He decided it was time to get a closer look at that envelope at his earliest opportunity.
Wilson was lost in thought as the speaker finished his closing remarks and the attendees began to file out of the room like so much cattle. He found himself staring at the packing slip on the package, the sender's name and address running on a loop in his head. Diamond Fairbairn. Diamond Fairbairn. Diamond Fairbairn. The name, which sounded suspiciously like a law firm, quickly burned itself into his brain. He tried to think of all the reasons a law firm might be sending him anything. He wasn't in trouble with the hospital, so that couldn't be it. He simply couldn't figure it out.
The sudden and complete silence in the lecture hall after the doors clicked shut caused Wilson to startle from his thoughts. He looked around, surprised to find the room empty. Gathering his things, he made his way out to the concourse barely aware of his surroundings.
House could practically hear Wilson thinking as he gathered his things and left the lecture hall, never noticing that House hadn't left his spot against the wall. He gave the younger man a 30 second head start, then followed him out onto the concourse. Wilson wasn't hard to spot. He was wandering aimlessly, eventually ending up in the main exhibit hall where he wandered the aisles for the next hour, stopping at the occasional demonstration table but looking at nothing.
At one point Wilson was persuaded to test the weight of a new piece of equipment, requiring him to set his things down on the table. House took the opportunity to sidle up alongside him, feigning interest, and got a look at the packing slip on the envelope. While he didn't recognize the specific name of the sender, he thought that it sounded suspiciously like a law firm. He watched Wilson's distracted profile as he nodded absently at the rep, handing back the implement and gathering his things. He walked away from the table without a word.
Wilson couldn't take it anymore. He had to know what was inside the Express package. He headed for the nearest bathroom and locked himself into a stall. When the door closed behind the last man to leave and the room was silent, Wilson pulled the tab on the envelope. He held his breath as he pulled out a thick sheaf of documents and read the cover letter. Diamond Fairbairn was indeed a law firm, one that specialized in divorce law. He let out an involuntary bark of incredulous disbelief. She did it. She actually fucking did it. And had the papers delivered here?! Wilson thumbed through the paperwork, tears pricking at his eyes as his brain struggled to process the information.
House watched Wilson go into the bathroom, and when he didn't come out after several minutes surmised that he had finally decided to open the package. Lingering outside the door, House heard the sound of incredulity and anguish that confirmed his suspicions. It didn't affect him one way or the other, but it did serve to make him that much more curious as to how the young doctor was going to handle the situation.
Time stood still as comprehension sank into Wilson's brain. Feelings of profound sadness and confusion vied with feelings of anger and frustration for control of Wilson's body. He got to his feet shakily and left the stall. He walked over to the sinks and splashed cold water on his face in an effort to regain his composure, to no avail. As he looked at his shell-shocked image in the mirror, Wilson lashed out and slammed the heel of his hand into the wall in a rare physical display. Pain coursed through his hand and wrist, just enough to distract him from the chaos in his mind. He took a deep breath, exhaling loudly as he pulled himself together, straightening his tie and adjusting his suit jacket. Regarding his reflection once more, Wilson slid the calm, rational visage he'd learned to put on before meeting with one of his terminal patients. He picked up his things and walked back out into the crowd.
House watched Wilson finally emerge from the restroom, his face neutral and strained. He pushed off the wall to follow Wilson at a distance, finding this way more interesting than going from boring lecture to boring lecture like he was back in medical school. Unfortunately, Wilson did just that.
Leaving the restroom, Wilson knew that he didn't want to be alone. But I sure as hell don't want to talk to anyone, either. He decided that the best way to do both was to bounce from lecture to lecture until the conference ended for the day, after which he planned to go over to the hotel bar and get as drunk as humanly possible.
3 hours and 4 mind-numbing lectures later, House followed Wilson back to the hotel. He was surprised when Wilson veered away from the bank of elevators and straight into the bar, parking himself on a stool and ordering a double something from the bartender. As House pulled up his own bar stool, he saw Wilson throw back whatever he was drinking and overheard him tell the bartender to "keep them coming." This amused House, who thought that Wilson barely looked old enough to drink at all. Definitely not boring, House mused as he sat back with his own drink to see how things unfolded.
Wilson was into his third double scotch when it occurred to him that he'd been hearing the same song on the jukebox for quite awhile. He was about to ask the bartender if there was a problem with the machine when he spotted a guy feeding it quarters, each time selecting the same song number. As the bartender refilled his glass yet again, Wilson heard the song, 'Leave a Tender Moment Alone' by Billy Joel, start over. His brain fast numbing from the alcohol he rarely drank, Wilson lost count of how many times the song had played in a loop since he'd sat down. The more times the song repeated, the more annoyed Wilson became. He tried reasoning politely with the guy, all but begging him to choose another song. The guy laughed at him and fed more quarters into the jukebox.
Wilson stared at himself in the massive antique mirror behind the bar, getting angrier and more resentful by the minute at the asshole who kept playing that damn song. He yelled at the guy to play something else, anything else - which caused the guy to laugh even harder and feed a few more quarters into the jukebox.
When the song began yet again, Wilson's head dropped to the bar for a moment. He looked up, caught another glimpse of his drunken visage and downed what was left in his glass. Then he grabbed the nearest bottle from behind the bar and threw it as hard as he could at that damned mirror. The bottle shattered against his image, putting a huge crack in it. Two other guys at the bar let out a cheer and promptly threw their shot glasses into the mirror, bringing the whole thing down and instantly causing a fight between them and the bartender.
House watched with fascinated delight as the whole event unfolded in front of him. The police arrived in short order, arresting everyone involved, and House watched as Wilson was handcuffed and read his rights before being taken away. House paid for his drinks, gave a statement to the police, and left for his room.