Unshakably Unknowing, (1/1)
TITLE: Unshakably Unknowing
AUTHOR: SayShe8Ed
RATING: PG
WORDS: 1007
WARNING: Spoilers for “Three Stories.”
SUMMARY: Post-infarction; Wilson’s reaction as he learns of Stacy's actions as House's medical proxy.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, not mine, not even vaguely or remotely mine amongst the most wildest dreams of what would be mine. Did I mention I don’t own these guys?
There was only one thought that James Wilson couldn’t shake as Stacy sat in his office calmly explaining, then anxiously explaining, then desperately explaining her reasons for telling Cuddy to go ahead with the “surgical middle ground.”
There were all sorts of other thoughts drifting through his fatigued brain at that moment, of course. The fact that she was, in fact, betraying her lover and partner, his best friend, and she knew it. Or that she was also, quite possibly, saving his best friend’s life. Somewhere in his brain, his inner doctor was keeping a running monologue of the medical facts of the case, of the odds of House being right in his decision to wait, and of the significance of the amount and duration of the pain he had experienced since the embolectomy. Briefly, deep down, he even wondered why House had chosen Stacy as his proxy over himself, only a friend, sure, but also his doctor and old protégé. He pushed that thought down quickly, reminding himself that Stacy was competent, and intelligent, and fully capable of listening to medical opinions and taking them into consideration. She had all the qualities that made her an excellent proxy, just as Wilson would have been.
Except, apparently, for one. That she didn’t seem to know Greg House very well at all.
No matter what train of thought he tried to jump on, this was the fact that he kept returning to, as though the surprise of it was enough to stick him in a permanent loop. Stacy and Greg were the perfect couple, knowing and understanding each other completely. There was a perfect balance to both their similarities and differences that seemed so symmetrical, like they really had fulfilled the old cliché and completed one another. Even when they fought - fights that were usually loud, passionate, violent in their words - it was as though any tear in their bond was immediately repaired, like the relationship was strong enough to just fold over the wounded parts and keep building itself stronger.
At least, that was the vision he had held of it up until this moment.
Now, through the lens of her decision, he wasn’t so sure.
It wasn’t just that she was going against his wishes. It was that she was going against his medical wishes. She was taking his reckless decision at face value, not at all acknowledging the Greg House that Wilson had come to know and respect as a doctor. The choices he made that seemed reckless were always anything but - he arrived at them quickly, yes, but Wilson knew enough about how House thought to know that this didn’t mean they were arrived at easily. House prided himself on making tough choices, on taking risks for the best possible outcome if he thought there was a chance. His intelligence, his incredible observation skills and his confidence were the tools that let him do so. They were the tools that he believed made him a good scientist and great doctor, the things that House most defined himself by.
But instead of realizing this, she was treating him like a child. She loved and admired his rebel streak, as long as it was kept at the safe distance of anecdote or the occasional legal intervention. When it came down to something immediate, something real, something that forced her to truly accept that the quality she loved so much in her partner could also mean she could lose him, she couldn’t do it. She believed she knew what was best for him and for her, and that was the end of it. His reasons didn’t matter. Wilson wasn’t sure she really understood what his reasons even were.
Wilson was terrified to lose House. It was a fear that he felt through to his bones, and that left him with some baffling and awful picture of the future that he couldn’t bring himself to call up in detail. Life without his best friend, the man he loved more than he had known was possible, would be…there were no words, or if there were, he didn’t want to know what they were.
It was this terror that let him forgive Stacy. It was this terror that pushed him past the desire to scream at her, to shake her, to try to make her understand. She was as afraid as he was, and in truth, he was more than a little grateful that this wasn’t his choice to make. He didn’t know if he could do this to his friend, take away a piece of his freedom and pride that was so completely entwined with his entire sense of self-worth. He didn’t know if he could save his life and then deal with the raw hatred and pain that he knew would come once House awoke from surgery and discovered what had happened.
But apparently, Stacy could.
She had finished explaining her reasons for the third time, and was now resting limp in her chair, as though just the idea of making this decision had sucked away all of her energy. She was also looking at him expectantly, some mixture of hope and fear that begged him to tell her that she was right to do this.
Wilson gripped the edge of his desk, looking down at his fingertips. She wasn’t right. He also wasn’t at all sure that she was wrong. All he knew was that he didn’t think it’s the choice he would make. But if her choice meant keeping his best friend alive, maybe that wasn’t such a terrible thing.
In the end, he said the only thing that he knew to be true. The thing that he desperately hoped she knew House at least well enough to understand.
“He’ll never forgive you.”
She deflated a little, eyes drifting to the floor. “He might. Someday, he might.”
Wilson nodded vaguely, not meeting her eyes as his thoughts once again returned to their favorite chorus of the last few minutes.
She really doesn’t know him at all.
AUTHOR: SayShe8Ed
RATING: PG
WORDS: 1007
WARNING: Spoilers for “Three Stories.”
SUMMARY: Post-infarction; Wilson’s reaction as he learns of Stacy's actions as House's medical proxy.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, not mine, not even vaguely or remotely mine amongst the most wildest dreams of what would be mine. Did I mention I don’t own these guys?
There was only one thought that James Wilson couldn’t shake as Stacy sat in his office calmly explaining, then anxiously explaining, then desperately explaining her reasons for telling Cuddy to go ahead with the “surgical middle ground.”
There were all sorts of other thoughts drifting through his fatigued brain at that moment, of course. The fact that she was, in fact, betraying her lover and partner, his best friend, and she knew it. Or that she was also, quite possibly, saving his best friend’s life. Somewhere in his brain, his inner doctor was keeping a running monologue of the medical facts of the case, of the odds of House being right in his decision to wait, and of the significance of the amount and duration of the pain he had experienced since the embolectomy. Briefly, deep down, he even wondered why House had chosen Stacy as his proxy over himself, only a friend, sure, but also his doctor and old protégé. He pushed that thought down quickly, reminding himself that Stacy was competent, and intelligent, and fully capable of listening to medical opinions and taking them into consideration. She had all the qualities that made her an excellent proxy, just as Wilson would have been.
Except, apparently, for one. That she didn’t seem to know Greg House very well at all.
No matter what train of thought he tried to jump on, this was the fact that he kept returning to, as though the surprise of it was enough to stick him in a permanent loop. Stacy and Greg were the perfect couple, knowing and understanding each other completely. There was a perfect balance to both their similarities and differences that seemed so symmetrical, like they really had fulfilled the old cliché and completed one another. Even when they fought - fights that were usually loud, passionate, violent in their words - it was as though any tear in their bond was immediately repaired, like the relationship was strong enough to just fold over the wounded parts and keep building itself stronger.
At least, that was the vision he had held of it up until this moment.
Now, through the lens of her decision, he wasn’t so sure.
It wasn’t just that she was going against his wishes. It was that she was going against his medical wishes. She was taking his reckless decision at face value, not at all acknowledging the Greg House that Wilson had come to know and respect as a doctor. The choices he made that seemed reckless were always anything but - he arrived at them quickly, yes, but Wilson knew enough about how House thought to know that this didn’t mean they were arrived at easily. House prided himself on making tough choices, on taking risks for the best possible outcome if he thought there was a chance. His intelligence, his incredible observation skills and his confidence were the tools that let him do so. They were the tools that he believed made him a good scientist and great doctor, the things that House most defined himself by.
But instead of realizing this, she was treating him like a child. She loved and admired his rebel streak, as long as it was kept at the safe distance of anecdote or the occasional legal intervention. When it came down to something immediate, something real, something that forced her to truly accept that the quality she loved so much in her partner could also mean she could lose him, she couldn’t do it. She believed she knew what was best for him and for her, and that was the end of it. His reasons didn’t matter. Wilson wasn’t sure she really understood what his reasons even were.
Wilson was terrified to lose House. It was a fear that he felt through to his bones, and that left him with some baffling and awful picture of the future that he couldn’t bring himself to call up in detail. Life without his best friend, the man he loved more than he had known was possible, would be…there were no words, or if there were, he didn’t want to know what they were.
It was this terror that let him forgive Stacy. It was this terror that pushed him past the desire to scream at her, to shake her, to try to make her understand. She was as afraid as he was, and in truth, he was more than a little grateful that this wasn’t his choice to make. He didn’t know if he could do this to his friend, take away a piece of his freedom and pride that was so completely entwined with his entire sense of self-worth. He didn’t know if he could save his life and then deal with the raw hatred and pain that he knew would come once House awoke from surgery and discovered what had happened.
But apparently, Stacy could.
She had finished explaining her reasons for the third time, and was now resting limp in her chair, as though just the idea of making this decision had sucked away all of her energy. She was also looking at him expectantly, some mixture of hope and fear that begged him to tell her that she was right to do this.
Wilson gripped the edge of his desk, looking down at his fingertips. She wasn’t right. He also wasn’t at all sure that she was wrong. All he knew was that he didn’t think it’s the choice he would make. But if her choice meant keeping his best friend alive, maybe that wasn’t such a terrible thing.
In the end, he said the only thing that he knew to be true. The thing that he desperately hoped she knew House at least well enough to understand.
“He’ll never forgive you.”
She deflated a little, eyes drifting to the floor. “He might. Someday, he might.”
Wilson nodded vaguely, not meeting her eyes as his thoughts once again returned to their favorite chorus of the last few minutes.
She really doesn’t know him at all.