Fic : Yesterday Was Hard
Title:Yesterday was Hard
Words: 2419
Rating : PG
Spoilers : Up to and including 8.02 - Transplant
Characters : Wilson, Foreman
Warnings : None
Summary : A series of conversations between Wilson and Foreman filling in the time between 'Moving On' and "Transplant'
Story title taken from the song playing at the end of 8.02 Yesterday Was Hard On All Of Us by Fink.
By the time Foreman got to the hospital the doctor was just finishing putting a cast on Wilson's wrist. He looked up as Foreman entered the room but said nothing, his eyes flicking to the intern doing the casting.
"I'll finish up," Foreman offered and the young intern looked up at him with surprised, tired eyes. He jerked his head to one side and she seemed to catch on, quickly leaving the room.
"Cuddy called me," Foreman said, checking the fit of the cast on Wilson's wrist and nodded in satisfaction, the intern had done a good job.
'She told you what happened? What House did?"
"Yes, she wanted to know if I'd seen him."
"The police are looking for him," Wilson said dully, his eyes fixed on the bright blue cast decorating his right hand. "He...he just walked away. I don't know where he went, I couldn't...I couldn't follow him..."
"House is the cat with nine lives, he'll be fine. Probably at a bar getting smashed."
"He's sick...he must be sick...a psychotic break...maybe he's hallucinating again...the things he's been doing...and now this..."
Foreman did a quick diagnosis of his own and came to the conclusion that Wilson was rapidly sliding into shock. He leaned forward and put his hands on Wilson's shoulders.
"Wilson," he said firmly. "Forget House for now. You need to go home, eat something and get some rest. I'll drive you. Where's your car?"
Wilson stared at him, eyes wide. "At House's place, I went over there, wanted to take him to a bar, get him drunk...."
Like getting House drunk would solve any of his problems, Foreman shook his head. "Okay," Foreman said, keeping a hold on Wilson's shoulders. "Okay, we'll fetch it tomorrow. I'll take you home tonight and I'm staying the night. In the morning we'll get your car. House will probably have turned up by then."
"Okay." Wilson took a deep breath, stared down at the cast on his wrist. "Bastard." He said it quietly but Foreman heard every inch of feeling in it. There was nothing he could say to that, nothing that would make it better for Wilson that his best friend had done this to him.
Foreman stood with the crowd of other hospital staff, watching as Cuddy accepted a parting gift from the hospital Chairman. She looked her usual composed self, as she had since the day she handed in her notice. She and Rachel were moving, away from the memories this place held for her. As far as Foreman knew she hadn't uttered House's name once since 'the incident', as the hospital staff had taken to calling it. The only acknowledgment she'd ever made had been to have his name scrapped off his office door the next day, and the emergency meeting of the Board she'd convened to have his tenure rescinded, and his employment terminated. Both motions had gone through unopposed.
"I can't believe she's leaving, " Foreman heard the quiet voice beside him and turned to see Wilson there, neat as always in his suit, the cast on his wrist peeking out from below the sleeve. He was composed, quiet, as he had been since 'the incident'. He stared at Cuddy, as if memorising her face, or remembering all the years they had worked here together. With House. Now there would only be Wilson left.
Foreman had nothing to say to that, they both knew why she was leaving. The whole hospital, hell, the whole medical community knew why she was leaving.
"I heard from House." Wilson continued, in the same calm, quiet tone of voice. Foreman glanced around to make sure there were no eavesdroppers and then pulled Wilson to one side.
"When? What did he say?"
"Nothing. He sent a postcard, no name, no address. Just a blank postcard."
"But you know it was him?" Foreman said sceptically, he knew most of the hospital saw Wilson as the 'House whisperer' , expert in all things House, but he'd often seen Wilson left behind by House's antics. He suspected that Wilson would desperately want to believe that House had bothered to communicate with him, to let Wilson know he was still alive.
"I know," Wilson shook his head as if shaking off a heavy burden and then looked at Foreman. "You've applied for the position?"
Foreman blinked at the rapid change of subject but nodded. "Yes." He knew that his application had been a shock to many of the more senior staff of the hospital, but he also knew that PPTH had a history of taking risks with staffing. Employing a young Doctor Cuddy had been a leap of faith at the time, and she had endorsed Foreman's application as her last official act. Over the last seven years he had built up a considerable network of support within the hospital, and experience in just about every discipline. He could do the job, he knew that. He also knew that Wilson was an influential member of the Board, and would have a large say in the final decision.
"Come and see my tomorrow at two, I'll clear my afternoon schedule. We'll talk." Wilson said finally, his eyes on Cuddy.
Foreman worked through the night preparing his plans to present to Wilson. When he left his office after seven the next day he was exhausted. Any delusions he might have had that Wilson was just the long suffering, amiable sidekick of his old boss had been shattered. The interview with Wilson had been the most intensive of his life but Foreman had his support.
The future of Diagnostics hadn't been mentioned.
"Congratulations," Wilson said, his eyes roaming around Foreman's new office. Foreman had redecorated so it matched his own personal style, each piece matching and perfectly placed. Foreman was sure that if House was here he would mock it, call it 'boring'. He could almost see the words on Wilson's lips, but he knew that wasn't why Wilson had come.
"You've heard?"
"Yes. Twelve months. He pled guilty, didn't even have a lawyer apparently." Wilson stared out of the office window. "I read it in the paper. He hasn't contacted me since he got back."
"Will you go and visit him?"
"I...don't think so." Wilson shook himself and refocused on Foreman. "You want to bring him back, when he gets out."
Foreman didn't deny it. "The hospital needs him, what he can do. He puts us on the map." It was sad but true, the rest of the staff were competent, some were even brilliant at what they did, like Wilson. But none of them were House. Without House he would be the Dean of Medicine at a small, respectable, somewhat quiet, teaching hospital. With House he would be the Dean of Medicine at one of the most talked about hospitals on the East coast. Cuddy was able to write her own ticket out to a much larger hospital, Foreman wanted to be able to do the same one day.
He needed House, it would take careful manoeuvring behind the scenes but he had time.
Foreman looked up as Wilson entered his office.
"Simpson was wrong again. For the third time," Wilson said, and Foreman knew what he was referring to, he'd been following the case closely - waiting for Wilson to come to the correct conclusion. They needed House if they were to save this patient.
Wilson rubbed his right wrist, a mannerism he displayed only when they were talking about House, Foreman doubted he realised he was doing it. When Wilson didn't say anything else Foreman pushed an envelope across his desk.
"I have an official release order for him, conditional parole. I can have him here in a couple of hours. It's your call, Wilson. I won't bring him in on this case if you say no."
The hospital's lawyers and personnel department had advised Foreman that House couldn't be re-employed, even on a temporary consulting basis, without Wilson's consent. Legally Wilson was considered his 'victim'. There was considerable resistance within the hospital to House's return, even with that consent, considering the circumstances. Foreman would be gambling a great deal by bring House back to the hospital.
Wilson went to the window and looked out into the darkness, Foreman wondered what he was seeing out there.
"He got another eight months added to his sentence," Foreman said, he hadn't told Wilson that before. "Two months ago he was due for parole, he found an interesting case in the clinic there, disobeyed some orders while he was getting his diagnosis. He diagnosed the patient but they put him in solitary and added eight months to his sentence, he'll be lucky to be offered parole again if we don't do this."
Wilson flinched slightly, and Foreman knew he was envisaging House rotting in jail, wondering what is was like. Foreman was giving the choice to Wilson, he had to, but he wanted Wilson to make the right choice. The right choice for the hospital, for House, even for Wilson himself.
"You know this won't be a popular move," Wilson said, "most people around here were glad to see the back of him. He wasn't exactly popular before he drove his car into Cuddy's house, and drove her out of the hospital. You'll be buying yourself a lot of problems, and he won't be grateful, and he'll do what he damn well pleases, you know that. You'll never control him, you've failed before."
Foreman flinched, but it was true, he'd never been able to assert any control over House, not the time that he was supervising House, nor even when Cuddy had set him up to be her spy in Diagnostics. Maybe this time he would do better, with the threat of going back to prison hanging over House. He knew he was kidding himself, House hadn't changed - the incident in the prison proved that.
"I know. He's House. I don't have any illusions that he'll be happy to be my employee, or that he will take any notice of anything I say. But he's a great doctor, and we need him. Your patient needs him, he can save people like that, he can do things that no other doctor can do."
Wilson turned back to face him, his expression even more drawn.
"My patient is just convenient for you. If it wasn't her you would be looking for another case where we need House."
"I doubt your patient will care what my motivation is, as long as she's alive."
Wilson gave a strangled noise, it could have been a laugh but Foreman didn't think so.
"That's probably true, and exactly what House would say." He shrugged, "okay, get him out, if you can. I'm going to go and check on my patient."
"Do you want to know when he gets here?"
Wilson laughed bitterly, "oh, I'll know."
Foreman put on his coat, tucking the envelope into his pocket. He'd been angling to get House back for the last six months, it had taken very careful negotiation with the Board, with various officials. The idiot had nearly been out two months ago and had blown it. Foreman could imagine the circumstances, the manic need House had to solve cases, to be right. Risking more months in jail, or time in solitary would have been nothing to him if he thought he was doing the right thing. But it had confirmed to Foreman that whatever else had happened to House, whatever had driven him to such an act in the first place, or to fleeing the country, or to coming back to face prison, he was still House. He could still do his job. And that was what mattered.
Foreman finished writing a series of memos about House's return. He was pleased with how the case had gone. Oh, House had initially been as difficult as he had expected but he thought that in the end he had managed to convince him to be at least minimally cooperative with the conditions of his parole, and the restrictions Foreman had put on him. Foreman had retrieved House's old office items from storage and given him his old office back (as he had always planned to.)
The most important thing was that House had diagnosed the lungs and saved Wilson's patient. House was as sharp as ever, prison hadn't dented his abilities. Doctor Park seemed to be a good match for him as Foreman had thought she would be, how could House resist someone whose claim to fame was punching out her boss?
He heard footsteps and looked up to see Wilson entering his office. Wilson looked very tired, but had a small smile on his face.
"Just wanted to update you. My patient is doing well."
"Good."
"And...I'm having dinner with House tonight." Wilson added, almost sheepishly, his hands buried in the pockets of his lab coat.
Thank God, Foreman thought to himself. This hospital might need House, but a House without Wilson's friendship was a House Foreman didn't want to see again. One thing he'd learned in seven years of working for House was that the guy in the office next door was an integral part of House's process.
"You know he's going to relentlessly pursue his old team, and fight with Ortho to get the conference room back don't you?"
"Yes, and he's going to flout my authority, break every ethical code there is, continually test the limits of his ankle monitor, and there's a good chance he'll end up back in prison before the ten months are out." Foreman said. He had no illusions that this was going to be easy. "He'll also save lives that no-one else can save."
Wilson nodded. "He will. Foreman...thanks. He'll never say it but I will, thanks for getting him out of there, thanks for giving him another chance."
"You're welcome, Wilson."
After Wilson had left Foreman looked over his desk, there was still a stack of paperwork to be completed but nothing that couldn't wait until tomorrow. He packed up and left the office.
On the way out he passed a security guard heading in the opposite direction, talking into his radio and saying something about a smoke alarm going off in a fourth floor office. He paused, his mind flashing on an image of House with a cigar in his mouth, but then kept going.
By the time he got to his car he was surprised to find he was smiling.
Words: 2419
Rating : PG
Spoilers : Up to and including 8.02 - Transplant
Characters : Wilson, Foreman
Warnings : None
Summary : A series of conversations between Wilson and Foreman filling in the time between 'Moving On' and "Transplant'
Story title taken from the song playing at the end of 8.02 Yesterday Was Hard On All Of Us by Fink.
By the time Foreman got to the hospital the doctor was just finishing putting a cast on Wilson's wrist. He looked up as Foreman entered the room but said nothing, his eyes flicking to the intern doing the casting.
"I'll finish up," Foreman offered and the young intern looked up at him with surprised, tired eyes. He jerked his head to one side and she seemed to catch on, quickly leaving the room.
"Cuddy called me," Foreman said, checking the fit of the cast on Wilson's wrist and nodded in satisfaction, the intern had done a good job.
'She told you what happened? What House did?"
"Yes, she wanted to know if I'd seen him."
"The police are looking for him," Wilson said dully, his eyes fixed on the bright blue cast decorating his right hand. "He...he just walked away. I don't know where he went, I couldn't...I couldn't follow him..."
"House is the cat with nine lives, he'll be fine. Probably at a bar getting smashed."
"He's sick...he must be sick...a psychotic break...maybe he's hallucinating again...the things he's been doing...and now this..."
Foreman did a quick diagnosis of his own and came to the conclusion that Wilson was rapidly sliding into shock. He leaned forward and put his hands on Wilson's shoulders.
"Wilson," he said firmly. "Forget House for now. You need to go home, eat something and get some rest. I'll drive you. Where's your car?"
Wilson stared at him, eyes wide. "At House's place, I went over there, wanted to take him to a bar, get him drunk...."
Like getting House drunk would solve any of his problems, Foreman shook his head. "Okay," Foreman said, keeping a hold on Wilson's shoulders. "Okay, we'll fetch it tomorrow. I'll take you home tonight and I'm staying the night. In the morning we'll get your car. House will probably have turned up by then."
"Okay." Wilson took a deep breath, stared down at the cast on his wrist. "Bastard." He said it quietly but Foreman heard every inch of feeling in it. There was nothing he could say to that, nothing that would make it better for Wilson that his best friend had done this to him.
Foreman stood with the crowd of other hospital staff, watching as Cuddy accepted a parting gift from the hospital Chairman. She looked her usual composed self, as she had since the day she handed in her notice. She and Rachel were moving, away from the memories this place held for her. As far as Foreman knew she hadn't uttered House's name once since 'the incident', as the hospital staff had taken to calling it. The only acknowledgment she'd ever made had been to have his name scrapped off his office door the next day, and the emergency meeting of the Board she'd convened to have his tenure rescinded, and his employment terminated. Both motions had gone through unopposed.
"I can't believe she's leaving, " Foreman heard the quiet voice beside him and turned to see Wilson there, neat as always in his suit, the cast on his wrist peeking out from below the sleeve. He was composed, quiet, as he had been since 'the incident'. He stared at Cuddy, as if memorising her face, or remembering all the years they had worked here together. With House. Now there would only be Wilson left.
Foreman had nothing to say to that, they both knew why she was leaving. The whole hospital, hell, the whole medical community knew why she was leaving.
"I heard from House." Wilson continued, in the same calm, quiet tone of voice. Foreman glanced around to make sure there were no eavesdroppers and then pulled Wilson to one side.
"When? What did he say?"
"Nothing. He sent a postcard, no name, no address. Just a blank postcard."
"But you know it was him?" Foreman said sceptically, he knew most of the hospital saw Wilson as the 'House whisperer' , expert in all things House, but he'd often seen Wilson left behind by House's antics. He suspected that Wilson would desperately want to believe that House had bothered to communicate with him, to let Wilson know he was still alive.
"I know," Wilson shook his head as if shaking off a heavy burden and then looked at Foreman. "You've applied for the position?"
Foreman blinked at the rapid change of subject but nodded. "Yes." He knew that his application had been a shock to many of the more senior staff of the hospital, but he also knew that PPTH had a history of taking risks with staffing. Employing a young Doctor Cuddy had been a leap of faith at the time, and she had endorsed Foreman's application as her last official act. Over the last seven years he had built up a considerable network of support within the hospital, and experience in just about every discipline. He could do the job, he knew that. He also knew that Wilson was an influential member of the Board, and would have a large say in the final decision.
"Come and see my tomorrow at two, I'll clear my afternoon schedule. We'll talk." Wilson said finally, his eyes on Cuddy.
Foreman worked through the night preparing his plans to present to Wilson. When he left his office after seven the next day he was exhausted. Any delusions he might have had that Wilson was just the long suffering, amiable sidekick of his old boss had been shattered. The interview with Wilson had been the most intensive of his life but Foreman had his support.
The future of Diagnostics hadn't been mentioned.
"Congratulations," Wilson said, his eyes roaming around Foreman's new office. Foreman had redecorated so it matched his own personal style, each piece matching and perfectly placed. Foreman was sure that if House was here he would mock it, call it 'boring'. He could almost see the words on Wilson's lips, but he knew that wasn't why Wilson had come.
"You've heard?"
"Yes. Twelve months. He pled guilty, didn't even have a lawyer apparently." Wilson stared out of the office window. "I read it in the paper. He hasn't contacted me since he got back."
"Will you go and visit him?"
"I...don't think so." Wilson shook himself and refocused on Foreman. "You want to bring him back, when he gets out."
Foreman didn't deny it. "The hospital needs him, what he can do. He puts us on the map." It was sad but true, the rest of the staff were competent, some were even brilliant at what they did, like Wilson. But none of them were House. Without House he would be the Dean of Medicine at a small, respectable, somewhat quiet, teaching hospital. With House he would be the Dean of Medicine at one of the most talked about hospitals on the East coast. Cuddy was able to write her own ticket out to a much larger hospital, Foreman wanted to be able to do the same one day.
He needed House, it would take careful manoeuvring behind the scenes but he had time.
Foreman looked up as Wilson entered his office.
"Simpson was wrong again. For the third time," Wilson said, and Foreman knew what he was referring to, he'd been following the case closely - waiting for Wilson to come to the correct conclusion. They needed House if they were to save this patient.
Wilson rubbed his right wrist, a mannerism he displayed only when they were talking about House, Foreman doubted he realised he was doing it. When Wilson didn't say anything else Foreman pushed an envelope across his desk.
"I have an official release order for him, conditional parole. I can have him here in a couple of hours. It's your call, Wilson. I won't bring him in on this case if you say no."
The hospital's lawyers and personnel department had advised Foreman that House couldn't be re-employed, even on a temporary consulting basis, without Wilson's consent. Legally Wilson was considered his 'victim'. There was considerable resistance within the hospital to House's return, even with that consent, considering the circumstances. Foreman would be gambling a great deal by bring House back to the hospital.
Wilson went to the window and looked out into the darkness, Foreman wondered what he was seeing out there.
"He got another eight months added to his sentence," Foreman said, he hadn't told Wilson that before. "Two months ago he was due for parole, he found an interesting case in the clinic there, disobeyed some orders while he was getting his diagnosis. He diagnosed the patient but they put him in solitary and added eight months to his sentence, he'll be lucky to be offered parole again if we don't do this."
Wilson flinched slightly, and Foreman knew he was envisaging House rotting in jail, wondering what is was like. Foreman was giving the choice to Wilson, he had to, but he wanted Wilson to make the right choice. The right choice for the hospital, for House, even for Wilson himself.
"You know this won't be a popular move," Wilson said, "most people around here were glad to see the back of him. He wasn't exactly popular before he drove his car into Cuddy's house, and drove her out of the hospital. You'll be buying yourself a lot of problems, and he won't be grateful, and he'll do what he damn well pleases, you know that. You'll never control him, you've failed before."
Foreman flinched, but it was true, he'd never been able to assert any control over House, not the time that he was supervising House, nor even when Cuddy had set him up to be her spy in Diagnostics. Maybe this time he would do better, with the threat of going back to prison hanging over House. He knew he was kidding himself, House hadn't changed - the incident in the prison proved that.
"I know. He's House. I don't have any illusions that he'll be happy to be my employee, or that he will take any notice of anything I say. But he's a great doctor, and we need him. Your patient needs him, he can save people like that, he can do things that no other doctor can do."
Wilson turned back to face him, his expression even more drawn.
"My patient is just convenient for you. If it wasn't her you would be looking for another case where we need House."
"I doubt your patient will care what my motivation is, as long as she's alive."
Wilson gave a strangled noise, it could have been a laugh but Foreman didn't think so.
"That's probably true, and exactly what House would say." He shrugged, "okay, get him out, if you can. I'm going to go and check on my patient."
"Do you want to know when he gets here?"
Wilson laughed bitterly, "oh, I'll know."
Foreman put on his coat, tucking the envelope into his pocket. He'd been angling to get House back for the last six months, it had taken very careful negotiation with the Board, with various officials. The idiot had nearly been out two months ago and had blown it. Foreman could imagine the circumstances, the manic need House had to solve cases, to be right. Risking more months in jail, or time in solitary would have been nothing to him if he thought he was doing the right thing. But it had confirmed to Foreman that whatever else had happened to House, whatever had driven him to such an act in the first place, or to fleeing the country, or to coming back to face prison, he was still House. He could still do his job. And that was what mattered.
Foreman finished writing a series of memos about House's return. He was pleased with how the case had gone. Oh, House had initially been as difficult as he had expected but he thought that in the end he had managed to convince him to be at least minimally cooperative with the conditions of his parole, and the restrictions Foreman had put on him. Foreman had retrieved House's old office items from storage and given him his old office back (as he had always planned to.)
The most important thing was that House had diagnosed the lungs and saved Wilson's patient. House was as sharp as ever, prison hadn't dented his abilities. Doctor Park seemed to be a good match for him as Foreman had thought she would be, how could House resist someone whose claim to fame was punching out her boss?
He heard footsteps and looked up to see Wilson entering his office. Wilson looked very tired, but had a small smile on his face.
"Just wanted to update you. My patient is doing well."
"Good."
"And...I'm having dinner with House tonight." Wilson added, almost sheepishly, his hands buried in the pockets of his lab coat.
Thank God, Foreman thought to himself. This hospital might need House, but a House without Wilson's friendship was a House Foreman didn't want to see again. One thing he'd learned in seven years of working for House was that the guy in the office next door was an integral part of House's process.
"You know he's going to relentlessly pursue his old team, and fight with Ortho to get the conference room back don't you?"
"Yes, and he's going to flout my authority, break every ethical code there is, continually test the limits of his ankle monitor, and there's a good chance he'll end up back in prison before the ten months are out." Foreman said. He had no illusions that this was going to be easy. "He'll also save lives that no-one else can save."
Wilson nodded. "He will. Foreman...thanks. He'll never say it but I will, thanks for getting him out of there, thanks for giving him another chance."
"You're welcome, Wilson."
After Wilson had left Foreman looked over his desk, there was still a stack of paperwork to be completed but nothing that couldn't wait until tomorrow. He packed up and left the office.
On the way out he passed a security guard heading in the opposite direction, talking into his radio and saying something about a smoke alarm going off in a fourth floor office. He paused, his mind flashing on an image of House with a cigar in his mouth, but then kept going.
By the time he got to his car he was surprised to find he was smiling.