First House Story
Title: What He Needs
Forum: House, MD
Summary: Wilson has the infarction instead of House.
Notes: Written for Wilson_Fest
The point when Dr. Wilson’s world changed forever happened during clinic duty. As he was getting ready to grab another chart from the nurse, intense pain shot through his leg. After the nurse called for help, blessed morphine was delivered and tests were ordered.
Nothing was found to be wrong. The look on Dr. Wilkes, an older gentleman, talked to him like he was a small child. ‘You enjoy running with Dr. House?’ That little fact earned him another patronizing look. ‘You’re an oncology doctor?’ ‘It states here that you recently turned 30?’ After all these questions were asked and answered, Dr. Wilkes took a fatherly air. Then he proceeded to lecture Wilson about his stress level, stretching before running, and no longer being a ‘young buck’. The condescending prescription of ‘bed rest’ hurt. Yet, rest did sound good. Over the next two days, the pain grew and grew. But what could he do? The hospital would believe he was just overreacting. House was at a conference for another couple of days. Vicky was visiting her family and wouldn’t be home until tomorrow. Finally the pain was too much; he had to call an ambulance. After even more tests, a diagnosis came one that brought fear and anger in its wake.
Infarction. Muscle death. Surgery. Amputation. No, they can’t, they won’t not now, not ever. Pleas from Vicky and Cuddy were ignored. The line was drawn and there was no crossing it. Death would be better than no leg. In the end, a coma was the best way to deal with the pain. The world would be a completely different place upon waking.
This new world is where James Wilson found himself. While in his coma, Vicky had authorized a surgery. Not the one to amputate. No, this one went in and removed his thigh muscle, only 25%. “Only” was the word Lisa had used, like that was supposed to make it better somehow. Well, it didn’t. This surgery was just another form of amputation. His leg was still there but it was nothing more than dead weight. At first his situation didn’t seem so bad. This was just another challenge to overcome.
However, as his family filed in to visit, he felt a huge weight fall in his shoulders. The pity and sadness on their eyes was only part of it. The real heartbreaking moment came when his mother started talking about him moving back home to rest and let them take care of him.
“Jamie, you need to come home with us.” She said, sitting in a chair next to the bed.
“Mama, I can’t.”
She said nothing instead getting up and sitting beside him on the bed. Reaching up, she gently brushed his hair away from his forehead. Sighing, he let his eyes close. Speaking softly like she used to when he was a little boy, she tried again.
“James, you have a lot of physical therapy ahead of you. Let us help you get back on your feet.”
Just like always, he was going to agree but then he opened his eyes. His mother wasn’t looking at him, at least not his face. She was staring at his damaged leg. His father and brother weren’t looking at him at all. They sat in chairs along the wall, trying their best to look anywhere but him. That’s when he realized how they and the rest of the world would see him, as a cripple, someone who couldn’t take care of himself. This information had always been there, silently mocking him. He had just pretended not to see it, hoping like a child that if he ignored it long enough, it would go away.
He hated his family for making him face it. In an uncharacteristic display, he screamed at them to go away.
“Get out!”
At first, they stayed trying to comfort him.
“Jamie…” His mother started.
“No!” He yelled. “Leave me alone. I don’t want you here.”
He continued to scream until they left one by one. The silence that followed was heavy.
Wilson just continued to lie there, thinking about all the things he couldn’t do. He would never run with House again or play a sport or ice skate with his wife like they had done last winter on a trip to New York. He couldn’t go on those hiking trips he and his brother liked to take. He couldn’t dance with Vicky. The list went on forever. All he had to look forward to was a limp, lifetime of pain, and pitying looks which would follow him for the rest of his days.
Suddenly, he felt an aching need to have House with him. Greg wouldn’t pity him. He would tell Wilson to quit being a baby. Yes, with House, he could make it through this.
“We could rule the world.” Isn’t that what House always told him? Yet as soon as the hope came to him, it was deflated. No, his friend wouldn’t stay with him. The man would have no use for Wilson. He was always moving pacing in his office, running to clear his thoughts, playing sports. If he couldn’t physically move, then his hands would. House just didn’t know how to be still, and Wilson wouldn’t be able to keep up anymore. Even before the infarction, there were days when he had trouble keeping up. How could he do that with a cane?
His best friend would leave him behind. The mere thought caused a stabbing pain deep in his soul. He had already been left behind be one brother; he couldn’t bear for it to happen again. He had never said that word out loud to House although he had thought it many times. Does House even know what happened? Does he care? Would he think Wilson was stupid for allowing the clot to come to this? Would he leave? Or worse stay out of a sense of pity? No, he hated pity in all forms so he wouldn’t do that to Wilson.
So he’ll just leave, moving on with his life while Wilson would be forced to stay the same. The direction of his thoughts surprised the injured man. He usually wasn’t this morbid or depressed. That was House’s department. He, on the other hand, was the “look-on-the-bright-side” type of guy. However, he also found that he didn’t really care about how morbid he was being. At some point during their lives, everyone had the right to be angry or depressed. Damn it, this was his. He was pulled from his thoughts by the entrance of Vicky. She was giving him a look of appraisal.
“How are you?” she asked. Forcing a smile, he answered.
“Oh, I think I feel like dancing.” He saw her flinch slightly. Ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer. He also knew exactly what she was thinking. ‘He’s been spending too much time with Greg.’ Maybe he was or maybe he was tired of pretending to be the sweet, caring wimp everyone thought he was. He had seen the looks on their stupid faces. The one that said, ‘Poor Dr. Wilson is too much of a wimp to stand up to Dr. House. Poor bastard.’ Well screw them and screw Vicky for doing this to him. He then saw her close her eyes as if she was gathering her strength and patience. This served to piss him off even more. What did she need that for?
“I meant…”
“I know what you meant.” He snapped, cutting her off. “What do you want me to say? That I’m ok with being put in a coma and had 25% of my thigh muscle removed without my consent? That I don’t wish I had just died instead? Or maybe you want me to say that it hurts so bad, I want to scream but I can’t because I’m too tired? What do you want me to say?!” he demanded, knowing his words cut deep. However, right now, he could care less.
He let out a tired sigh. “Have you called House?”
He saw her eyes narrow. Vicky and House had never gotten along; each simply tolerated the other. However, he couldn’t bring himself to care.
“No. Why would I?”
“Because he’s my friend and I want him here.”
“James, we need to talk about this, and I don’t think having that man here will help anything.” She calmly stated, like she doing nothing more than commenting on the weather.
“What do you want to talk about? How you want against my wishes and gave me a surgery I didn’t want?” Once again, he saw her flinch.
“I just wanted…” She started but he interrupted her again.
“You know what I want? I want to go running with House. I want to dance with my wife. But I’ll never get to do those things again. However, I can get one thing I want. I want you to get out of my room now!” He looked her directly in the eyes, not backing down. He even ignored the tears; House would be proud. Vicky, with regret and pain clearly visible, left without another word.
Wilson continued to lay there consciously not thinking about anything. He didn’t even glance at the nurse, Jill, when she came in and shot morphine into his IV. After a time, he must have fallen into a doze because he was awoken by the voices outside his room. He couldn’t understand it all but he heard the words “angry” “fighting” “surgery” and “not letting anyone in.” He knew they were talking about him. Apparently, they were going to send someone in to try and talk to him again. Steeling himself as the glass door slid open, he was about to snap at whoever it was when he heard the one voice he had been waiting for.
“Jimmy.” So much was put into that one word.
“Greg.” He breathed, happy beyond words to see the other man. Yet, he couldn’t help but wonder. Would everything stay the same or be changed forever? House opened his mouth, and…
“I leave you alone for a week and look what you do to yourself. I restate my theory that you need a keeper. I hear Debbie in accounting would love the job. No, wait. You’re married. Sorry, Jimmy, no hot blondes for you. Just your wife.” House said with that grin Wilson loved so much. Silence followed, both inside and outside the room. Everyone was waiting to see what he would do.
“Yeah, sucks to be me” he replied, hitting the ball back to House who didn’t miss a beat.
“Well, cheer up. There are people who have it worse, like that bat-faced idiot in…”
Wilson just sat, listening to his friend ramble on about all the idiots in the world. He could feel the anger and resentment flow into his room from his family in the hallway. He ignored them. This is what he needed - someone who didn’t treat him like he was damaged, different. Everyone else he would deal with later. Finally, he got the one thing he wanted, the one thing he needed.
Forum: House, MD
Summary: Wilson has the infarction instead of House.
Notes: Written for Wilson_Fest
The point when Dr. Wilson’s world changed forever happened during clinic duty. As he was getting ready to grab another chart from the nurse, intense pain shot through his leg. After the nurse called for help, blessed morphine was delivered and tests were ordered.
Nothing was found to be wrong. The look on Dr. Wilkes, an older gentleman, talked to him like he was a small child. ‘You enjoy running with Dr. House?’ That little fact earned him another patronizing look. ‘You’re an oncology doctor?’ ‘It states here that you recently turned 30?’ After all these questions were asked and answered, Dr. Wilkes took a fatherly air. Then he proceeded to lecture Wilson about his stress level, stretching before running, and no longer being a ‘young buck’. The condescending prescription of ‘bed rest’ hurt. Yet, rest did sound good. Over the next two days, the pain grew and grew. But what could he do? The hospital would believe he was just overreacting. House was at a conference for another couple of days. Vicky was visiting her family and wouldn’t be home until tomorrow. Finally the pain was too much; he had to call an ambulance. After even more tests, a diagnosis came one that brought fear and anger in its wake.
Infarction. Muscle death. Surgery. Amputation. No, they can’t, they won’t not now, not ever. Pleas from Vicky and Cuddy were ignored. The line was drawn and there was no crossing it. Death would be better than no leg. In the end, a coma was the best way to deal with the pain. The world would be a completely different place upon waking.
This new world is where James Wilson found himself. While in his coma, Vicky had authorized a surgery. Not the one to amputate. No, this one went in and removed his thigh muscle, only 25%. “Only” was the word Lisa had used, like that was supposed to make it better somehow. Well, it didn’t. This surgery was just another form of amputation. His leg was still there but it was nothing more than dead weight. At first his situation didn’t seem so bad. This was just another challenge to overcome.
However, as his family filed in to visit, he felt a huge weight fall in his shoulders. The pity and sadness on their eyes was only part of it. The real heartbreaking moment came when his mother started talking about him moving back home to rest and let them take care of him.
“Jamie, you need to come home with us.” She said, sitting in a chair next to the bed.
“Mama, I can’t.”
She said nothing instead getting up and sitting beside him on the bed. Reaching up, she gently brushed his hair away from his forehead. Sighing, he let his eyes close. Speaking softly like she used to when he was a little boy, she tried again.
“James, you have a lot of physical therapy ahead of you. Let us help you get back on your feet.”
Just like always, he was going to agree but then he opened his eyes. His mother wasn’t looking at him, at least not his face. She was staring at his damaged leg. His father and brother weren’t looking at him at all. They sat in chairs along the wall, trying their best to look anywhere but him. That’s when he realized how they and the rest of the world would see him, as a cripple, someone who couldn’t take care of himself. This information had always been there, silently mocking him. He had just pretended not to see it, hoping like a child that if he ignored it long enough, it would go away.
He hated his family for making him face it. In an uncharacteristic display, he screamed at them to go away.
“Get out!”
At first, they stayed trying to comfort him.
“Jamie…” His mother started.
“No!” He yelled. “Leave me alone. I don’t want you here.”
He continued to scream until they left one by one. The silence that followed was heavy.
Wilson just continued to lie there, thinking about all the things he couldn’t do. He would never run with House again or play a sport or ice skate with his wife like they had done last winter on a trip to New York. He couldn’t go on those hiking trips he and his brother liked to take. He couldn’t dance with Vicky. The list went on forever. All he had to look forward to was a limp, lifetime of pain, and pitying looks which would follow him for the rest of his days.
Suddenly, he felt an aching need to have House with him. Greg wouldn’t pity him. He would tell Wilson to quit being a baby. Yes, with House, he could make it through this.
“We could rule the world.” Isn’t that what House always told him? Yet as soon as the hope came to him, it was deflated. No, his friend wouldn’t stay with him. The man would have no use for Wilson. He was always moving pacing in his office, running to clear his thoughts, playing sports. If he couldn’t physically move, then his hands would. House just didn’t know how to be still, and Wilson wouldn’t be able to keep up anymore. Even before the infarction, there were days when he had trouble keeping up. How could he do that with a cane?
His best friend would leave him behind. The mere thought caused a stabbing pain deep in his soul. He had already been left behind be one brother; he couldn’t bear for it to happen again. He had never said that word out loud to House although he had thought it many times. Does House even know what happened? Does he care? Would he think Wilson was stupid for allowing the clot to come to this? Would he leave? Or worse stay out of a sense of pity? No, he hated pity in all forms so he wouldn’t do that to Wilson.
So he’ll just leave, moving on with his life while Wilson would be forced to stay the same. The direction of his thoughts surprised the injured man. He usually wasn’t this morbid or depressed. That was House’s department. He, on the other hand, was the “look-on-the-bright-side” type of guy. However, he also found that he didn’t really care about how morbid he was being. At some point during their lives, everyone had the right to be angry or depressed. Damn it, this was his. He was pulled from his thoughts by the entrance of Vicky. She was giving him a look of appraisal.
“How are you?” she asked. Forcing a smile, he answered.
“Oh, I think I feel like dancing.” He saw her flinch slightly. Ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer. He also knew exactly what she was thinking. ‘He’s been spending too much time with Greg.’ Maybe he was or maybe he was tired of pretending to be the sweet, caring wimp everyone thought he was. He had seen the looks on their stupid faces. The one that said, ‘Poor Dr. Wilson is too much of a wimp to stand up to Dr. House. Poor bastard.’ Well screw them and screw Vicky for doing this to him. He then saw her close her eyes as if she was gathering her strength and patience. This served to piss him off even more. What did she need that for?
“I meant…”
“I know what you meant.” He snapped, cutting her off. “What do you want me to say? That I’m ok with being put in a coma and had 25% of my thigh muscle removed without my consent? That I don’t wish I had just died instead? Or maybe you want me to say that it hurts so bad, I want to scream but I can’t because I’m too tired? What do you want me to say?!” he demanded, knowing his words cut deep. However, right now, he could care less.
He let out a tired sigh. “Have you called House?”
He saw her eyes narrow. Vicky and House had never gotten along; each simply tolerated the other. However, he couldn’t bring himself to care.
“No. Why would I?”
“Because he’s my friend and I want him here.”
“James, we need to talk about this, and I don’t think having that man here will help anything.” She calmly stated, like she doing nothing more than commenting on the weather.
“What do you want to talk about? How you want against my wishes and gave me a surgery I didn’t want?” Once again, he saw her flinch.
“I just wanted…” She started but he interrupted her again.
“You know what I want? I want to go running with House. I want to dance with my wife. But I’ll never get to do those things again. However, I can get one thing I want. I want you to get out of my room now!” He looked her directly in the eyes, not backing down. He even ignored the tears; House would be proud. Vicky, with regret and pain clearly visible, left without another word.
Wilson continued to lay there consciously not thinking about anything. He didn’t even glance at the nurse, Jill, when she came in and shot morphine into his IV. After a time, he must have fallen into a doze because he was awoken by the voices outside his room. He couldn’t understand it all but he heard the words “angry” “fighting” “surgery” and “not letting anyone in.” He knew they were talking about him. Apparently, they were going to send someone in to try and talk to him again. Steeling himself as the glass door slid open, he was about to snap at whoever it was when he heard the one voice he had been waiting for.
“Jimmy.” So much was put into that one word.
“Greg.” He breathed, happy beyond words to see the other man. Yet, he couldn’t help but wonder. Would everything stay the same or be changed forever? House opened his mouth, and…
“I leave you alone for a week and look what you do to yourself. I restate my theory that you need a keeper. I hear Debbie in accounting would love the job. No, wait. You’re married. Sorry, Jimmy, no hot blondes for you. Just your wife.” House said with that grin Wilson loved so much. Silence followed, both inside and outside the room. Everyone was waiting to see what he would do.
“Yeah, sucks to be me” he replied, hitting the ball back to House who didn’t miss a beat.
“Well, cheer up. There are people who have it worse, like that bat-faced idiot in…”
Wilson just sat, listening to his friend ramble on about all the idiots in the world. He could feel the anger and resentment flow into his room from his family in the hallway. He ignored them. This is what he needed - someone who didn’t treat him like he was damaged, different. Everyone else he would deal with later. Finally, he got the one thing he wanted, the one thing he needed.