Fandom Town Emergency Clinic

The passage of air was LOUD today and Wilson moved very, very carefully in an attempt to keep the air as still as possible. He was late opening the Clinic not because he was late getting *to* the Clinic but because he was moving very slowly…in the hope of keeping the air really quiet.

Getting the doors open, he started a pot of coffee and sucked back the third 20oz bottle of water he’d been drinking since about oh…not too many hours ago. Putting a happy face on, he managed to do rounds without passing out, which was a blessing, checking in on Rory, Logan and Jack before crawling back up to the front desk.

Sitting down, very carefully –DAMN AIR WILL YOU SHUT UP!- Wilson leaned forward till he could cradle his head on his forearms. Seven…liquors….what the hell had he been thinking last night?

That it felt good to laugh a little and not hurt…andohGodI’mnottwentyanymore

Dragging his water bottle down into his lap to snuggle it close, Wilson reached for the half a piece of bagel he’d been trying to choke down for over an hour now. He was about half-way through it. By noon he might be finished with it.

If I live that long…Crowley is going to kill me.

Taking a slow breath, Wilson sat up and reached for a chart. He was being in his charting and really needed to catch up, if the little black squiggly lines would just stay still long enough for him to read them.

Doctor on Duty.

Wilson and House had been up the whole night, between hourly checks on Rory, Marty and Logan they had -laughably- tried to relieve each other for a few hours of sleep but each had been too keyed up to take advantage and after the first try had given up.

The oncologist had quietly worked on paperwork in between rounds, while House had played with his gameboy. For the moment, neither had brought up the subject of what had just happened with the other, it was just all too confusing and in the end, not important to delivering medical attention. In some ways, it was better that they didn't have the details, that would just confuse the focus.

As morning dawned, Wilson had taken advantage of a quick break to grab a shower and clean the blood off his skin and out of his hair. He'd come back and tagged House out, firmly suggesting that the older doctor needed to put some intense heat therapy on that bad leg of his...and also demanding -in a loving manner- that House make coffee.

When House headed off towards the little apartment, Wilson began to run rounds once more.


[ooc: For the sake of my sanity, please put all 'Morning after' comments into this post. I'll have threads up for all the sickies as soon as LJ lets me. Thank you! :)]

Wilson had spent a couple of days out. Out away from the apartment and away from the clinic, simply walking around. If asked, he’d claim that he was exploring his new home but in truth, he’d simply been walking and trying to wrap his brain around things. It all seemed to keep eluding him however, the divorce…the series of losses at the hospital, coming here to House…

Becoming House’s lover in fact as well as in theory after so many years.

And every so often the incredible insanity of the place snuck in to distract him from his melancholy.

There certainly was plenty!

Strolling into the clinic, the oncologist whistled softly under his breath as he headed for House’s office. He was dressed for autumn in a dark green cashmere sweater that hugged his slender form, nipping in at his trim waist. It was warm but not loose or bulky and allowed him more freedom of movement in case he was needed to work with a patient. For the time being, he had a few phone calls to make regarding blood work.

First up, he had Red’s blood work finished. Sitting down at the desk, he flipped open the tattoo artist’s file and dialed the contact number Red had left.

"Good morning, this message is for, Red."

Once that call was finished, he moved on to the next file, Jack O’Neill. It took a bit of digging to come up with good contact information but he managed to ferret it out and dialed up the young man’s voice mail.

"Good morning, this message is for, Jack O’Neill."

Once those two calls were finished, he spent a couple of hours on the phone with the supply companies, working through a restock order. Going out to the main desk to fax over a couple of req forms, he got the fax started, then filled the time waiting by leaving Lily a note.

Sticking the note on the board it read,

Lily, There has been a request from a Ms. Paige Matthews that you be primary contact person for her in medical matters. In the normal course of any medical situations that come up she would like you to assist her. I’ve made a note in her chart to the effect but wanted you to be aware. Please see me if you have any questions.

Some sort of illegible scrawl that might be his name.

Snagging the forms off the fax, he waited till he had confirmation that the requests had gone through and then headed back into the office. If he knew House and…well he did Biblical sense and all the man hadn’t done a damn thing with his weekend charting.

Wilson settled in to catch up the work, half an ear cocked towards the clinic in case anyone came by needing help.

EDIT: When he got back from speaking with Chef, Wilson wrote out a note in bold black letters and tacked it up to the board in the waiting room.

TO ANYONE WHO IS SINGING ABBA OR THE CARPENTERS.

I have spoken to Chef and he promises that the effects will wear off in a few hours. If you are still singing -and by this I mean involuntarily- tomorrow morning, please return to the Clinic and we'll take a look.

James Wilson