Wilson- HUH
Prompt table for [community profile] sacred25 :
01. Miracle. 02. Saint. 03. Sinner. 04. Communion. 05. Fate.
06. Karma. 07. Ritual. 08. Blessing. 09. Curse. 10. Shalom.
11. Covenant. 12. Crusade. 13. Sanctuary. 14. Desecrate. 15. Yetzer Ra.
16. Zen. 17. Purgatory. 18. Revelation. 19. Atonement. 20. Prophet.
21. Mecca. 22. Genesis. 23. Apocalypse. 24. Writer's Choice. 25. Writer's Choice.
Hoodie  Too Tired For This

(Prompt was 'sleep')


        He lay on top of the bed, not even bothering to get under the blankets.  He knew that tonight would not be different than the past four nights, or was it five? Would tonight be number five or six he had gone without sleep?  He pondered it for a few minutes, but his sleep deprived brain was stumped.  It didn't matter, after the first forty-eight hours he knew he had lost significant brain functioning and reaction time, so what difference did one more or one less night make in the grand scheme of things?

        He looked at his bedstand the array of bottles on it.  Several over the counter sleep medicines and the xanax he had been prescribed shortly after Amber's death.  None of them were working.  He would get bits of sleep here and there, light dozing during which any faint random noise, or the sound of his own snoring would wake him up.  This afternoon he had fallen asleep for a few moments doing paperwork, being rudely awakened when he slumped over, as his forehead slipped of his hand and hit his desk with a thud.

        He had tried the House method the night before.  Brought home a bottle of cheap bourbon and tried to drink himself unconscious.  He didn't have the many years of practice House did and all he ended up doing was making himself violently sick.  There was a bright side, cleaning up had given him something to do other than lay on his back and stare alternately at the clock and ceiling. 

        He remembered functioning on scant sleep when he was a resident.  He had his fair share of sleepless nights when he lost patients or some other guilt weighed heavily.  In the weeks immediately following Amber's death he would often cry himself into an exhausted but restless sleep.  Never had insomnia struck him this hard.  Then again, he had never walked away from his best friend before, telling him as he did so that they had never been friends.  He had never used every bit of knowledge he had about someone against them like that, turning just the right words into deadly little spears and thrusting them right into the most tender and vulnerable parts of someone.  Maybe he deserved this.  

Laughing Eating

Title: Fortune Cookie

Pairing: House and Wilson

Rating: pg

Summary: A bit of House and Wilson fluff, done for prompt #006 at

[livejournal.com profile] licenseartistic

 .

 

 

He reached out and swiped a fortune cookie from the coffee table before House could scoff them both up as he usually did. He wasn’t finished his meal yet, but had seen House eyeing the cookie treats. Wilson had already sacrificed his broccoli with garlic sauce because House decided he liked it, he was determined he would at least get a fortune cookie this time. He balanced the cookie on his left thigh, just out of House’s reach on the couch.

He got a glare for his efforts, but House didn’t move and kept shoveling the purloined garlic broccoli into his mouth. After he finished his fried rice he opened the cookie, cracking it in half, pulling out the small white stripe of paper. He could feel House’s eyes on him expectantly, so he slowly ate half the cookie first and turned the paper over to take a look at the series of lucky numbers that he would never admit to House to actually playing in the lottery and the random lesson of one Chinese word.

“Huh,” Wilson said as he looked at the word in its Chinese form,  戀人 then tried to pronounced it, “qíngrén,” he intoned, glancing up to House to see if he had said it right.

“I speak Japanese, not Chinese.” House grumbled and made a grab for the fortune, but Wilson pulled it away.

“You know, for a man who doesn’t believe in anything divinatory, you are sure in a hurry to read my fortune.” Wilson teased, before turning the piece of paper back over to read his fortune. Reading it slowly and to himself, letting House squirm a bit longer.

“I think I grabbed the wrong one, this is definitely yours. ‘Accept Nothing, Challenge Everything.’“ he read, tossing the paper towards House, wondering if he would be quick enough to grab the other fortune cookie.

Wilson- HUH
(Done for [livejournal.com profile] quote_inspired , prompt:  "If it's so simple, why haven't you done it already?"  "If you're good at something, never do it for free.")


If It's So Simple

"If it is so simple why haven't you done it already?"  House asked, curiosity dripping from his voice undisguised.  He couldn't help it.  This wasn't like Wilson.  If something needed to be done, simple or difficult, Wilson always finished the task.  He did so with minimal complaint and if there was a timeframe or deadline, the task was always accomplished well before it was due.

"Because."  Wilson muttered sullenly, he was shuffling papers around his desk, trying to look busy.  This wasn't something he wanted House prying into.  He wasn't surprised that House had found out.  The notification had come in his hospital mail and that, along with any mail Wilson got, was fair game as far as House was concerned.  He let out a snort.  His mail should just be addressed to James Wilson In C/O Gregory House.

"Come on.  It will be fun."  House tried.  

Wilson glared at him.  "Fun?  I bet you didn't go to yours or offer the current graduating seniors any advice."

House shrugged.  "No, but I attended four different high schools my senior year.  Was 'invited' not to attend the graduation ceremony."  House smirked as the memories of what had nearly got him expelled from that school three days prior to graduation.  He was certain only angry threats from a then Marine captain and the tearful pleadings of his wife was what convinced the principal to give him his diploma.

Wilson looked up.  "Four, you are kidding me?  I didn't think your father got moved around that much."

"Nope.  Two were his fault, the other two were all mine."  Pride clear in his voice at his own antics.

"Good, maybe you can get me expelled so I won't have to do this."  Wilson responded, knowing it sounded ridiculous.

"Can't, you already graduated.  Go, show up, give a speech to the kiddies about how fulfilling watching patients die because there is nothing you can do in many of their cases is and leave.  Take you five minutes to write that speech.  Like you said, simple."  House said helpfully.

Wilson rolled his eyes at House's assessment of his job.  "Yeah."

"So, I ask again, if it is so simple, why haven't you done it already?"

"If you are good at something, never do it for free."  Wilson responded.  It really wasn't the money, but the reunion and speech for the graduating class he was asked to give was scheduled for a night that he had recieved a request to make an appearance and present one of his papers at a research symposium.  There was a hefty check in his name if he attended and gave the presentation. 

He grinned as he took in House's shocked expression.  It was rare that House didn't have his every reaction down and called before he even gave it.  He enjoyed these moments.  No, he could care less about the money, although it would help pay for House's daily expenses such as lunch, pizza, beer, hooker tips or whatever House borrowed money for.  That and it would drive House nuts that he hadn't expected Wilson to say that or feel that getting paid for a presentation was worth more than going back to his old high school and offering words of encouragement to graduating seniors.  His smile grew wider as a discombobulated House left his office.

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and grimace
An interview with my muse Dr. James E. Wilson, set mid to late season four of House MD. Interviewer’s questions are bolded. Wilson’s expressions and movements are italicized.

 

Who are you involved with romantically?

James Wilson smiles and laughs nervously before responding. Amber. Dr. Amber Volakis. His eyes brighten and his smile widens. She was one of House’s fellowship candidates. He made a mistake in firing her, but then again considering, it was probably for the best. The diagnostic department only needs one House. There is only room for one. He falls silent for a moment, then with widened eyes looks around the room. Not that I am saying Amber is exactly like House… oh God, she’d kill me if she knew I said that… He gestures helplessly. Not that being House-like is all that bad… oh God, now he is going to kill me. He lets out a resigned sigh. You’re not helping you know. Next question please before I dig myself any deeper.

 

Is the relationship satisfying?

 

Wilson’s eyes roll dramatically. You are definitely not helping. Neither one of them are going to see this, right? He gestures nervously. It isn’t that I am unsatisfied. Amber is great. I love her dearly, but there are times she is a little too intense. Don’t get me wrong, I like that. His face blushes a deep red. It turns me on, most of the time… its just…different is all. He smiles fondly. A few weeks ago we went shopping for a new mattress. We each had a favorite that was completely different from the other. She got called into work and left the decision in my hands. It wasn’t even a choice, I automatically did the chivalrous thing and bought the mattress she had liked. He looks slightly lost, his voice takes on a pleading tone. I wanted her to be comfortable, is that so wrong? She puts in long hours and I wanted… He lets loose a frustrated sigh and blushes again. She put a halt to the christening of the new mattress once she realized the one I had bought and gave me a lecture about her being capable of looking after herself and that I needed to look out for me. I think my ex wives were brought up too, but at that point most of my blood was pooled elsewhere and I wasn’t thinking clearly. His eyes flicker up to mine and he offers an embarrassed sad smile. I still don’t know how to explain to her that taking care of her, is me taking care of myself.
 

 

 

 

Do you think you make enough time for each other? Why or why not?

 

He takes a sip of water and ponders a few moments. It is difficult. We’re both doctors subject to the whims of our patients. In addition to that, I am the department head of Oncology so that responsibility adds to the time I spend away from home. Amber is new in her position over at Princeton General and is intent on making a good impression. She spends more hours at work than maybe I would like, but I understand. He flashes another smile. I know it is sappy but it does make the time we do have together more special. I wouldn’t say we don’t have enough time together, but I admit I would like more.


 

 

Have past relationships ever gotten in the way of the current one? Elaborate.

 

A look of utter discomfort passes over his face. He blushes and fidgets. First of all, ‘gotten’ isn’t a word. Along the lines of ‘alot’ and ‘alright’ aren’t words either. He quiets and looks away.

 

This is a discussion regarding your relationship, not a grammar lesson. Answer the question.

 

I wouldn’t exactly call it a relationship ‘relationship’. He blushes again is silent a moment before blurting, House. The blush deepens so red I fear for his blood pressure. Once he found out about Amber and I, he… well, he was himself only worse. His voices drops to an almost awed whisper. They fight over me. It was and still is like watching two alpha wolves fight over a pack and breeding rights. It is flattering, but deeply disturbing at times. He looks away. I don’t help matters any by encouraging it at times. There is a tenuous truce at the moment thanks to Cuddy and the terms she brokered between the two regarding me. Although both have broken it already and faced her punishment. They are so much alike… and knowing the two of them they will break it again. He shrugs with a bit of a satisfied smile. At least it is never boring…

 


 

Do your viewpoints mainly agree or disagree?

 

Viewpoints? He smirks. Well, what time we do share, we haven’t spent talking politics. He winks suggestively. If that is what you are asking. He pauses a moment. We seem to enjoy the same music. We both enjoy theater and nice restaurants. Not that we do have a lot of time doing those things and most of the time when it comes to restaurants, we have to be so careful about reservations because I swear House has contacted all the nice ones in the area and convinced them to call when one of us makes a reservation. Amber used an alias a few times and that got us a few relaxing dinners, but House figured that out. He should be a spy. He grins, more amused than bothered it seems by House’s antics.

Anyway, viewpoints? We pretty much agree on everything, except House.
 

 

 

 

Do you foresee it lasting?

 

He looks at me with disbelief. What kind of question is that? His tone more than slightly defensive. Of course I see it lasting. He shakes his head, his tone softer and apologetic when he speaks. Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’ve been married three times, had countless other failed relationships, so you can understand why I might be a bit defensive? I love Amber. She is so different from any of the other women in my life. She is strong, assertive, doesn’t put up with any nonsense and doesn’t pull any punches. You know where you stand with her all the time. She doesn’t need me to fight her battles for her and would be just fine without me, but she wants me anyway. She is the only woman I have had that can hold her own with House, that actually enjoys the games he plays just as much as he does. Yes. He nods emphatically. I foresee it lasting.
 

 

 

 

How close to your dream mate is this person?

 

I told you I foresaw it lasting, that I am in love with her, what kind of question is that? If she wasn’t my dream mate or close to it, would I have said those things? His tone is slightly defensive. I love her. Maybe she isn’t exactly what I dreamed off when I was younger, but I married three women who embodied what I thought I wanted and see how all three of those marriages worked out? My friendship with House has lasted longer than all my marriages combined. Perhaps my idea of a dream mate was wrong. What is House always saying? Oh yeah- you don’t always get what you want, but sometimes you get what you need.




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Stylin'

Mar. 30th, 2009 04:51 pm
Sweatshirt- ticked off

"Style, is like a frog:  you can dissect the thing, but it somehow dies in the process."  - Arthur Quinn


  I frown as I stand in front of the mirror.  I can almost hear House mocking me and feel the disapproving stares of Cuddy and my more traditional style oriented patients.  The kids in peds will get a kick out of this and Brian my 19 year old patient, with a malignant EGC will probably approve though.

  It isn't that I feel uncomfortable.  The t-shirt isn't constricting around my neck.  It isn't tightening to the point where I imagine I can't breathe as sometimes is the case with my collared shirt and tie at the end of a long stressful day.  The sneakers, although not yet broken in are far more comfortable on my feet than the usual loafers or my fancy french leather shoes that still provide a source of endless entertainment for House.  I am a bit uncertain about the shocking neon green stripe that runs along the side and the equally as shocking bright neon yellow soles.  I am sure there are far brighter and more obnoxious combinations of colors that I could have found in the box that appeared beside the bed this morning.

  I smooth my hands down over my thighs, the unfamiliar denim scratching and almost tickling my palms.  They feel the most odd of the pieces of my new ensemble.  They are tight, maybe just a shade to small at the waist.  I did have to turn the cuffs up a couple of inches, but as I look down, perhaps I shouldn't have, maybe that might have covered up the worst bits of the sneakers.  The stiff fabric is hugging parts of my anatomy in a way that I am as of yet undecided.  Does it chafe more than it arouses?  I hope against hope it is chafe.

I turn sideways in front of the mirror and glance at my backside the best I can.  Is my ego overstepping its bounds to say that my ass, if nothing else, looks spectacular in these jeans?

I can't help but cringe a little as I reach for the pièce de résistance of the outfit.  It is a light blue, freshly laundered oxford shirt that seems to have been put through a dryer, then tossed into the bottom of a hamper and left there for some time.  It seems unnatural to have it unbuttoned with the unstarched collar turning in on itself no matter how much I try to straighten it out.

  I stare at my reflection and it seems like something is missing, something is wrong with this picture- other than the obvious.  Oh.  My hair.  It had received its usual morning grooming treatment- combed, blow dried and styled.  Habit is hard to break.  I reach up and ruffle it to give it that rakish devil-may-care look.  I highly doubt I am successful.

  I had managed, with great force of will, not to shave after Friday morning, but even after three days of accumulated stubble, everything still looked wrong.  It was sort of freeing not to put on the suit and tie that was at times just as much a prison as it was my armor, but it was just wrong.  I looked every inch the nerd trying to look cool to fit in.  It rankled me more than a bit, not being able to pull off House's style.  Clothes are just clothes, right?

  I closed my eyes and sighed.  Lost bet or no, I was not going into work dressed like this.  It didn't suit me.  Suddenly another pair of hands covered mine as I went to unbutton the jeans.  A cheek only a tad more bristled than my own rubbed possessively along my neck.  Cool, slightly chapped lips felt good as they pressed kisses along my jaw, but I could feel the light rumble in the chest that was pressed against my back as he chuckled at the sight of me in his clothes, his style.

  "I'll let you shave and let you wear one of your shirt and ties on two conditions.  One- the jeans stay and the sneakers.  Two- you call in late to work."  he murmured.

  I quickly agree to those terms.

What if...

Mar. 16th, 2009 05:43 pm
Wilson- HUH
Title:  What if...?
Author:  agent_wilson
Pairing:  Wilson-centric, with some mentions of House/Wilson, House/Cuddy, Wilson/Amber, Wilson/Cuddy
Rating:  pg
Summary:  Ten 'what ifs' that cross Wilson's mind frequently.  Prompt from house_muses.
Word Count:  2017
 
 
 
1.  What if he had never walked into that New Orleans bar?  This is something Wilson has contemplated often.  Would he and House have met anyway, at some other point in time?  He likes to think so, most of the time.  He's never had a friend like House, a friend that he feels he has known forever, will know forever.  Other times when this question crosses his mind, he curses himself for venturing out of his hotel room and down to that bar on that long ago evening.  He curses himself for losing his temper, for throwing the bottle, for catching the attention of a bored diagnostician who was there drowning his own sorrows and for setting the precedent of failure in his marriages and then turning to House, of all people for support.  Even then, he wants to believe it was destiny, that even if they hadn't met in that bar, under those circumstances that they would have met eventually.  Even under pain of death he would never admit that to House, nor his therapist.
 
2. What if it had been his call, instead of Stacy's?  This question nags and worries in the back of Wilson's mind every time he sees House's hand reach down to his thigh, every time he sees House wince in pain when he thinks no one is looking, everytime he watches House pop a pill.  It used to be worse.  When he came back from his honeymoon cut short by a frantic call from Stacy and found the damage had been done, through the long months of recovery, and the even darker times that followed when she threw in the towel and left, that question was the first thing on his mind when he woke up in the morning.  It never left him during the day and at night it haunted every single dream turned nightmare.  He couldn't look at either of them, everything he saw, heard, touched and felt would remind him of what had been lost and taken from House.  Would he have made the same decison?  Would he have chosen not to risk House's life even though the man himself was willing to do so?  During the dark days that saw House struggling through PT, stoned out of his mind on painkillers, gorked enough to let more than just the physical pain show through, that heard House ask the question out loud, Wilson always felt like the world's biggest hypocrite when he would assure House he would not have authorized the surgery without his permission.   As time passed though, it began to make him feel better to make believe that he wouldn't have, that he would have respected House's wishes and trusted in his judgement, but he was thankful when House stopped asking.  Now, as House's medical proxy, he just hopes against hope that he will never have to make a similar call.
 
3.  What if Tritter had won?  This 'what if' had worn out its welcome just days after the judge dismissed the charges against House, but it still makes the occasional appearace when Wilson writes House yet another scrip or watches him toss back a couple of the white pills.  Would they they still be in jail?  Wilson has no delusions that he wouldn't have spent time in jail, Tritter would have called him to the stand if the circus hadn't been ended with Cuddy's perjury and he would have refused to testify.  He knows that both he and House's medical licenses would have been revoked, and most likely never reinstated even after time served.  He wonders if House realises that despite his betrayal, when push came to shove, that Wilson would have stood behind him?  He doubts it and this bothers him greatly.
 
4.  What if he had acknowledged House's 'I love you'?  This what if cropped up the second he left House's hospital room.  He knew the man well enough to realise those were three words that House did not utter often.  He had no doubts of the sentiment behind the words, even though he could easily joke them off as being a typical Housian reaction to getting more opiates.  It saddened him slightly that House felt the need to hide honest feeling behind a joke, but it was how they worked.  Maybe if he had said something, had called House on those words, had even just simply said "I love you too, House" maybe something would have changed.  Or House would have become angry, sullen and avoid him for days, just like he had when Wilson's only response had been to take a deep breath, purse his lips and offer a small 'hmmpf'.  Wilson knows there was no right reaction, but he still tortures himself with this 'what if' on occasion.   
 
5.  What if he hadn't been called in to work the night of the bus accident?  The real 'what if' here, is what if Amber hadn't died?  He doesn't let himself linger here often, but he can't help think of it when he sees or hears something that Amber might have enjoyed.  What if he had been home, had answered the phone and gone to pick up House?  No one would have been on that bus.  Amber would still be with him and there wouldn't be this wound on his and House's friendship that he feared would never scar over despite his return and their combined attempts at ignoring and moving on from the past.  He would give almost anything to have House and Amber fighting over his time.  That particular 'what if' has been fading, but it still hurts like hell when it crosses his mind.
 
6.  What if House had died during the DBS?  What if House died? Is really the base 'what if' that crosses his mind, but over the years he has been given specific instances to define it with.  The latest being that bus accident and the following days.  House had nearly died in the crash, then again from a heart attack as he tried to remember and then the DBS.  He wonders if the blame he laid on House, the anger he felt after Amber's death would have been the same if House was dead too.  Would he have gone through that before the incredible feelings of guilt that plagued him now when he thought of what he had asked of House?  The guilt as it was now was at times overwhelming almost a year later when he would let himself dwell on it, would he have been able to live with himself if the DBS had killed House? Or would he even have felt guilty?  Stupid question.  Guilt was his crutch as pain was House's.  If he was honest, he enjoyed misery just as much as he accused House of doing.  
 
7.  What if House's father hadn't died?  Sometimes, when he is at House's watching tv, preparing a meal or when they are out on their traditional bowling night this what if strikes and leaves him a bit sick to his stomach.  Would he have been able to find someway to reconcile with House had Blythe not called him with the news and requested him to please bring House to the funeral?  Without that long road trip that saw House pull some of his worst antics on Wilson, would Wilson have found his way back?  If he hadn't been there to hear House's heartfelt, albeit slightly insulting eulogy, hadn't seen the transformation as House realised he was more his father's son than any DNA could have made him, if House hadn't correctly diagnosed Wilson's fear and thrown it back in his face with all the maturity of a five year old, would Wilson have been granted any other opportunity to come home?  Because that is what returning was, a homecoming, not just a physical one either.  He doubted it.  He was just as stubborn as House and had been determined to ignore House's meddling with that annoying PI he knew was stalking him thanks to a heads up from Cuddy.  He always felt guilty because he honestly didn't see any other way.  He tried to soothe his conscience by saying that everything happens for a purpose but that doesn't work so well when he pictures Blythe's grief stricken face and tone.
 
8.  What if he pursued Cuddy?  Occasionally, when he is sitting across from Cuddy at a board meeting, they pass in the hall, or after she walks out of his office after commiserating about yet another stunt House has pulled he finds himself wondering what would have happened if he had marched into her office and kissed her.  Granted, the flowers he had received turned out to be from House, but they had got along quite well, he had enjoyed the evening and could tell she had too.  Oh, they had dated again, two more times in fact.  Once he took her to an art exhibit that had embarrassingly turned out to feature BDSM photographs and then she had asked him out for dinner.  House had been convinced it was more of a consult, and although his orginal suspicion was wrong thankfully, he would always wonder if it had been an interview of sorts, that Cuddy was considering asking him to father her child.  He wondered if he had pursued her more actively, if it would have worked out or would he be searching for another job?  They were good friends, had a religion and lack of adhering to it and many common interests.  His conclusion to this 'what if' always hinges on whether or not House would have approved.  If he had, then maybe Rachel would be his biologically or at least by adoption.  If House hadn't approved, there is no doubt in Wilson's mind, that the relationship would never have lasted.
 
 
9.  What if he had had children with any of his wives?  Visiting Cuddy and Rachel as often as he did these days sometimes would leave him wondering what would have happened if he had kids with any of his ex-wives?  Would any of his marriages lasted at all or even just slightly longer than they had if he had a child involved?  He thinks he would have stayed longer, doesn't harbour any misconceptions about not cheating though, he knows he would have done that regardless, but maybe he would have tried a bit harder to hold the marriage together.  He can't imagine children with his first wife.  They were practically children themselves at the time of the wedding.  He cringes at the thought of neurotic Bonnie with children.  She foisted Hector off so easily, would a child have been any different?  Everytime he pictures Julie and child he is left with the urge to perform a clandestine DNA swab.  No, he loves children and he loves Rachel, but the thought of being responsible for one leaves him breatheless and on the verge of a panic attack.  He can't even keep House in line, how would he manage with a child?  He has enough worries about House to keep him up at night, he doesn't need the nightmarish worries and 'what ifs' that come with a child.
 
10.  What if House pursued Cuddy?  When he thinks of the 'what if' that involved Cuddy, he can't help but follow that with this one.  What if House had taken his advice?  What if House could act like a mature grown up adult for once in a relationship situation and been honest with Cuddy and his feelings towards her?  What if they were a couple now, where would that leave him?  Would he find himself fighting for time with House like House had with Amber?  Or more likely, would he have become the third spoke in their relationship wheel, both coming to him for advice on how to deal with the other?  And why exactly did these thoughts of House and Cuddy together, House happy just as Wilson has wanted him to be, make him feel so jealous?  Jealous not of House, but of Cuddy herself.  He didn't like examining that question too closely.

Wilson- HUH



"If you fall seven times, stand up eight." - Shinto Proverb

I picked up the gift given to me by a patient for whom I was able to give a new lease on life.  It was different from the normal sorts of knick-knacks made of clay my peds patients tend to give me.  This grateful older Japanese woman had pressed a thin volume into my hands as she left my office.  It was a book of Shinto proverbs.  I knew it was a Japanese religion but not much more than that.  House could probably fill me in on all the tiny details should I ask.  Depending on his mood, which after he stopped the methadone hasn't been great.  It has been worse then when the Ketamine had failed.

I opened the beautifully decorated book.  Perhaps there would be some words of ancient wisdom in here that would help me deal with House, to see him, Cuddy, myself and our combined sanity through this.  "If you fall seven times, stand up eight."  I chuckled bitterly as I read the proverb on the first page I opened the book up to.  All I ever was doing was hauling myself up off the proverbial ground and where has it gotten me?  Upright so I could fall again.

I fell when I failed my older brother.  When I let him lose himself to his mind and the drugs he was self medicating with.  I followed that spectacular fall with a succession of three marriages, falling three times.  I fell with every nurse and random woman I flirted or slept with when I was committed to another and there were many.  I fall with every patient I can't save and sometimes, even with the ones I do.  I lost count of how many times I have fallen in regards to House.  There was week of torture Cuddy and I put him through to admit his addiction, I didn't believe him when he came to me worried that the Ketamine was failing and then I sold him out the cop who was bullying him.  I stumble with every small lie I tell him.  I fall every time I fail to catch him when he falls. 

Then there was Amber.  The one relationship that might have worked ended by a freak bus accident.  I fell when I blamed House and then again when I asked House to risk his life to save hers.  What we learned from the DBS didn't matter, at least not in comparison to the risk to House, but back then you couldn't convince me of that.  I fell again later when I told House we were no longer friends.  Although that day, I think House fell just as far as I did.

I keep getting up though, just like the proverb says I should do.  I wonder sometimes, a lot lately, why I bother when I know I am only going to fall again.  I wonder if there will be anyone to try to haul me up when I can't or won't do it for myself.  Then I wonder if I care.

Wilson- HUH

Title: Index Card Lessons

Prompt: Love all. Trust a few. Do wrong to none.--William Shakespeare at [info]licenseartistic

Pairing: Slight House/Wilson- friendship, pre-slash perhaps.
Fandom: House

Word count: 746
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Wilson, nor House belongs to me.

 

 

 

              It was the end of a long and trying day. All day he had watched Cuddy play mean spiteful tricks on House, ones carefully aimed to do the most damage. Striking physically was the best way to get at House emotionally, a lesson she appeared to have learned well. He waited for something to befall her, but when nothing did, he confronted House. House’s explanation of adopting a no retaliation strategy did nothing to ease his worries. It wasn’t like House to do nothing, it went against his very nature. He once accused House of fearing change but the fault he pointed out in his friend was one he suffered from too. Change in House was almost too scary for him to contemplate. This only left the option that House was lying and something very big and something very bad was going to happen to Cuddy. The rest of the day saw him trying to balance his appointment schedule and trailing the two of them to try to ward off any potential disasters.

 

             He entered his office. A quick check had shown Cuddy safely ensconced in her own doing paperwork, taking frequent breaks to check the baby cam feed on her laptop. House’s office was dark and he wasn’t in any of his usual hiding places so Wilson felt assured enough to assume he had gone home. He stopped. Assuming wasn’t a smart tactic when dealing with House. He decided he would grab his briefcase from his office then pick up a pizza, some beer and surprise his friend. He didn’t like to promote anything that would add to the liver damage House was working towards, but getting him drunk tonight might keep him from making a midnight raid or something on Cuddy’s place. He hoped she would take his words to heart and reconsider her tactics because if they didn’t kill each other, they were certainly going to kill him.

 

            He walked to his desk to get a few files to take home with him when he noticed the index cards sitting in the middle of his blotter. Several plain white ones, by the looks of it, stapled together with a heart, a rendering of a human heart done skillfully with red and black permanent marker drawn in the middle. He could still smell the chemicals from them. He picked up the cards and after examining the intricate detail of the heart for a few moments, carefully folded the card over the staple to reveal the next one.

 

             “Love All” was boldly written at the top of the card, in quotation marks. Beneath it, in House’s scrawl, were a few more lines. ‘You’ve yet to learn not to take this so literally. Take the lab slip and get tested’. Sure enough, a glance at his desk showed a blood work lab slip with all the STD boxes checked off. He laughed. Not that he minded the reputation, but it was entirely unfounded. He hadn’t been with anyone since Amber and before her. Okay, so there had been a few nurses before her. He just thanked his lucky stars House never found out about Nurse Brad.

 

           He turned the card over to reveal the next. “Trust a few”, was the quote. The ink of the following words was darker and etched deeper into the card. ‘You trust everyone except the few you should’. What could that possibly mean? Sure, he was gullible at times, but not naïve and he trusted House. Except the time he came to you, fearful the pain was returning and needing your help, except when he told you he loved you, except when he told you he wasn’t planning on revenge, a traitorous voice whispered in his head.

 

             He turned the card, not wanting to dwell on that anymore. “Do wrong to none”. He almost didn’t want to continue. ‘You try, I’ll give you that’, was all House had written, but there was an arrow that prompted him to turn the packet of cards over. ‘At least the delivery guy who will be dropping off our supper in a few minutes will think you do no wrong by the size of the tip you left on your credit card.’

 

          He smiled ruefully, not knowing whether he felt more chastised, loved or forgiven by House’s little present, as he tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket, hoping that food wouldn’t be too cold by the time he got to House’s apartment.

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Wilson- HUH
james_wilson

May 2009

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