http://mnstrtruckslash.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
mnstrtruckslash.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sick_wilson2014-07-17 09:16 pm
mnstrtruckslash.livejournal.com) wrote in sick_wilson2014-07-17 09:16 pm
Entry tags:
What Now
Title: What Now?
Author: MnstrTruckSlash
Words: just shy of 850
Rating: PG, for mentions of drug use and a tiny bit of swearing but nothing serious or concerning.
Summary: It takes place between the end of “Help Me” and the beginning of “What Now?” in an alternate universe where Cuddy didn’t show up the night of the crane collapse. So, when Wilson gets stuck in the Window, House is alone and he knows he’s alone.
Warnings: A tiny bit OOC, a tiny bit of drug use, maybe triggering if you are a recovering addict but probably not, also very angst ridden.
Characters: just House and Wilson yet again
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the show or the characters.
Prompt: Sick Wilson Picture Challenge!
When my patient died, after I learned Cuddy was engaged to Lucas—which didn’t hurt half as much as you’d expect, but didn’t exactly help the situation—I was suffering from a myriad of emotions, including but not limited to: fury, melancholy, love, longing, loneliness, nostalgia, guilt, and humiliation. There was also the intense physical agony.
I came straight home and threw a massive temper tantrum. My first plan was to dull the pain with a fistful of Vicodin. However, I’d been off the pills for almost a year. I was somewhat concerned what might happen to me if I fell off the wagon. The last thing I wanted was to end up back at Mayfield…or dead. Plus Wilson and my friendship was already on the rocks. So, I didn’t immediately down the whole bottle.
Physically exhausted, I collapsed in a heap on the floor. I could barely keep my eyes open. Still, I sat there silently debating whether or not to get high. I even made one of those stupid pro/con lists but it was useless. Eventually, I passed out before I could come to a decision. I then slept for fourteen hours straight.
I probably would have stayed asleep even longer, had I not been rudely awaken by the sound of something crashing and breaking in my kitchen. Then, I heard Wilson cursing loudly. He shouted for help. I stuffed the pills into my pocket, stood up slowly, and went to check on him.
“I have been calling you all night!” he shrieked, squirming. Jimmy was stuck half in and half out the kitchen window. I smirked. “You couldn’t pick up the phone, even once?” I shrugged my shoulders. “Well, will you at least help me out of this thing?”
“Or I could just leave you there until you loose enough weight to pop out,” I teased. Wilson’s face turned a purplish red. He seemed so angry I expected to see steam coming out of his ears. “I didn’t answer the phone because I was asleep,” I said truthfully. “I wasn’t shooting up anything. I’m not drunk, or stoned. If you want, you can do a full exam when we get you unstuck.” After some searching I found the trolley and placed it under Wilson’s torso. Then, I managed to force the window open wider, and Jimmy just slid out. He stood up, dusted himself off, and stretched for several minutes.
“You really slept through the calls?” Wilson wondered, as he took my face in his hands and stared up into my eyes. “Well, you don’t look stoned.” Jimmy sighed. I’d told him the truth, just not the whole story. “Why do I get the feeling you’re hiding something.”
“Because you’re only half the moron I’ve always said you were,” I announced, defeated. I took the pill bottle from my pocket, and handed it to him. “I haven’t taken any…yet.”
“Do you want those because your leg hurts more than usual or because…” he let his voice trail off instead of saying something hurtful. I considered my options momentarily. My leg was a flaming, throbbing bundle of agony, but that was also how I felt on the inside. “We both know those don’t actually help with emotional stuff.”
“Technically, it’s a great temporary solution to emotional pain, but as soon as the pills wear off, you feel worse than before. Plus, it takes more and more to feel normal after you start using.” Wilson did the hands on hips thing. “My leg really does hurt, a lot more than normal, but if you’re afraid to leave me alone, you don’t have to. In fact, I should probably be monitored for the next twenty four hours anyway. I could have some serious injuries from all the crap I put my body through last night.” I knew part of the reason he’d come over here and broke in through the window was because Jimmy and Sam were officially finished. I could see it just from looking at him: red eyes from crying, he’d started biting his fingernails again, and he had on the same clothes from the day before. However, I decided not to say anything about this just yet. I was returning the favor he’d just shown me.
“I guess I could hang out here,” Jimmy declared, touching my hand softly. “You should go lie down. You’re probably still exhausted.” I nodded again. “I’ll bring you some water and you can have two pills. I’ll call Cuddy too; get you a few days off.”
“If you let me have three, I won’t make you sleep in the chair. You’ve been up all night and need sleep too. I’ve got a king-sized mattress.” Wilson paused for a minute, staring at me intensely, but he folded in less than ninety seconds. I trusted the guy, so I went to my room without asking for the pill bottle back. I knew I could always steal them from him—or go to another stash—if things got really bad.
Author: MnstrTruckSlash
Words: just shy of 850
Rating: PG, for mentions of drug use and a tiny bit of swearing but nothing serious or concerning.
Summary: It takes place between the end of “Help Me” and the beginning of “What Now?” in an alternate universe where Cuddy didn’t show up the night of the crane collapse. So, when Wilson gets stuck in the Window, House is alone and he knows he’s alone.
Warnings: A tiny bit OOC, a tiny bit of drug use, maybe triggering if you are a recovering addict but probably not, also very angst ridden.
Characters: just House and Wilson yet again
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the show or the characters.
Prompt: Sick Wilson Picture Challenge!
When my patient died, after I learned Cuddy was engaged to Lucas—which didn’t hurt half as much as you’d expect, but didn’t exactly help the situation—I was suffering from a myriad of emotions, including but not limited to: fury, melancholy, love, longing, loneliness, nostalgia, guilt, and humiliation. There was also the intense physical agony.
I came straight home and threw a massive temper tantrum. My first plan was to dull the pain with a fistful of Vicodin. However, I’d been off the pills for almost a year. I was somewhat concerned what might happen to me if I fell off the wagon. The last thing I wanted was to end up back at Mayfield…or dead. Plus Wilson and my friendship was already on the rocks. So, I didn’t immediately down the whole bottle.
Physically exhausted, I collapsed in a heap on the floor. I could barely keep my eyes open. Still, I sat there silently debating whether or not to get high. I even made one of those stupid pro/con lists but it was useless. Eventually, I passed out before I could come to a decision. I then slept for fourteen hours straight.
I probably would have stayed asleep even longer, had I not been rudely awaken by the sound of something crashing and breaking in my kitchen. Then, I heard Wilson cursing loudly. He shouted for help. I stuffed the pills into my pocket, stood up slowly, and went to check on him.
“I have been calling you all night!” he shrieked, squirming. Jimmy was stuck half in and half out the kitchen window. I smirked. “You couldn’t pick up the phone, even once?” I shrugged my shoulders. “Well, will you at least help me out of this thing?”
“Or I could just leave you there until you loose enough weight to pop out,” I teased. Wilson’s face turned a purplish red. He seemed so angry I expected to see steam coming out of his ears. “I didn’t answer the phone because I was asleep,” I said truthfully. “I wasn’t shooting up anything. I’m not drunk, or stoned. If you want, you can do a full exam when we get you unstuck.” After some searching I found the trolley and placed it under Wilson’s torso. Then, I managed to force the window open wider, and Jimmy just slid out. He stood up, dusted himself off, and stretched for several minutes.
“You really slept through the calls?” Wilson wondered, as he took my face in his hands and stared up into my eyes. “Well, you don’t look stoned.” Jimmy sighed. I’d told him the truth, just not the whole story. “Why do I get the feeling you’re hiding something.”
“Because you’re only half the moron I’ve always said you were,” I announced, defeated. I took the pill bottle from my pocket, and handed it to him. “I haven’t taken any…yet.”
“Do you want those because your leg hurts more than usual or because…” he let his voice trail off instead of saying something hurtful. I considered my options momentarily. My leg was a flaming, throbbing bundle of agony, but that was also how I felt on the inside. “We both know those don’t actually help with emotional stuff.”
“Technically, it’s a great temporary solution to emotional pain, but as soon as the pills wear off, you feel worse than before. Plus, it takes more and more to feel normal after you start using.” Wilson did the hands on hips thing. “My leg really does hurt, a lot more than normal, but if you’re afraid to leave me alone, you don’t have to. In fact, I should probably be monitored for the next twenty four hours anyway. I could have some serious injuries from all the crap I put my body through last night.” I knew part of the reason he’d come over here and broke in through the window was because Jimmy and Sam were officially finished. I could see it just from looking at him: red eyes from crying, he’d started biting his fingernails again, and he had on the same clothes from the day before. However, I decided not to say anything about this just yet. I was returning the favor he’d just shown me.
“I guess I could hang out here,” Jimmy declared, touching my hand softly. “You should go lie down. You’re probably still exhausted.” I nodded again. “I’ll bring you some water and you can have two pills. I’ll call Cuddy too; get you a few days off.”
“If you let me have three, I won’t make you sleep in the chair. You’ve been up all night and need sleep too. I’ve got a king-sized mattress.” Wilson paused for a minute, staring at me intensely, but he folded in less than ninety seconds. I trusted the guy, so I went to my room without asking for the pill bottle back. I knew I could always steal them from him—or go to another stash—if things got really bad.
no subject