Wednesday
Title: Wednesday
Rating: G
Pairing: House/Wilson implied.
Word Count: 500
Disclaimer: Of course the characters belong to David Shore and company.
Summary: Post episode 5.24, Wilson angst. Continuation of Monday.
Wednesday
It wasn’t until Wednesday that Cuddy finally came by. It was very late in the afternoon, almost evening. Wilson sat at his desk, trying to make sense of the growing pile of paperwork, but he still couldn’t get anything done. He just sat there, trying to keep his eyes focused, trying to keep the tears from falling again. He had finished his rounds, seen all his patients, kept on going through the motions, as if everything was normal. But it wasn’t.
He had done everything he could to avoid her all week. Rushing out of the clinic as soon as he finished his hours, coming in through the parking lot door that morning, after he left that way on Tuesday night, when he finally went home after the first two endless days. But now she was in his office, standing in front of him, staring at him with her seemingly concerned eyes.
“Wilson, we need to talk” she said.
He kept his eyes on the papers. “There’s nothing to talk about” he said quietly.
“Yes there is. You know we need to talk.”
Wilson looked up, and stared at her.
“Why?”
Cuddy blinked a few times. Her mascara was slightly smudged under her eyes.
“Because I care about him, I care about you.”
Wilson glared at her, then he stood up and put his lab coat.
“I have to check on a patient” he said, then he rushed to the door and left, leaving her standing there, staring at the door.
Wilson almost ran down the hall, keeping his eyes on the floor, making sure he didn’t look at House’s empty office. He went into the bathroom. There was no one there. He went into the stall, sat down, and covered his eyes with his hands. He stayed there for a long, long time, till he knew she wouldn’t be there anymore.
Then he went back to his office, hung up his lab coat, put on his rain coat and left. The paperwork was still piled on his desk. It would have to wait another day. He went down the steps, and ran to his car, through the back door again.
He got into his car, and sat there for a while, then he took a deep breath, finally started the engine and drove off. But he didn’t go home, not yet. As bad as the hospital was, being home was almost worse. There would be no phone calls, or no calls that matter, and no late night knocks on the door.
Wilson drove around for a while, through the streets that were now dark and crowded. Everyone was going home to some place they wanted to be. He drove and drove, until finally he stopped the car, just behind the motorcycle, parked where it had been for days now. .
Wilson sat in his car, for a long, long time, parked in front of 221B. He didn’t know what else to do. He didn’t know where else to go.