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sick_wilson2016-02-28 07:25 pm
mnstrtruckslash.livejournal.com) wrote in sick_wilson2016-02-28 07:25 pm
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Stab in the Dark(working title) Chapter Two
Title: Stab in the Dark: Chapter Two
Summary/Additional Notes: The first chapter was all about Wilson getting seriously injured as a result of hand tremors. I decided the cause is a form of brain cancer. This chapter and the next chapter will involve the diagnosis and then I'll go through treatment and explore the House-Wilson relationship. Both romantically and as friends. I promise not to write anything too graphic as far as sex goes. .
Warnings: Some slash but I kept it PG rated. Comments in italics are Wilson’s thoughts as he’s experiencing this.
Characters: Gregory House and James Wilson
Chapter One
“Symptoms,” House barks as he paces back and forth in front of me. His pain level skyrockets when he’s under stress. Between my injury and potential illness, he’s probably in agony. I want to run over and comfort him. It’s easier to focus on Greg’s issues and ignore my own. It’s what I’ve always done. Before House came into my life, it was Sam. Before her, my brother.
You might be dying. If there was ever a time to be selfish, it’s now.
“It started with headaches. In May, or June…I’m not sure,” I confess. House spins around on his heels. He stares, jaw hanging open. “I’ve always had migraines. I thought it was from stress…until things got worse.”
“You know what’s wrong, don’t you?” He’s practically foaming at the mouth. My hand is rubbing a hole in the back of my neck.
“Not for sure, but I have an idea.” He glares. “You were dealing with a lot this summer. I didn’t see any reason to worry you until I knew we had something to worry about. I had an MRI last week and I’ve an appointment with Phelps tomorrow.” House starts pacing again. “You can come with as long as you can control yourself. No calling him a moron.”
“You’re seeing Phelps…” House understands now. Dr. Ryan Phelps is the one of the best oncologists in the country. His sub-specialty is neurology. I was lucky to get him in my department. I would be lucky to have him as my doctor.
“The headaches started just before you went into Mayfield. The other symptoms came later. Over the summer, I was always cold. Then, I developed anosmia when we started cooking. It really sucked. I missed out on a lot of your dishes. Then, last week I fell asleep on my arm and my fingers stayed numb and tingling for an hour after I woke up.”
“You’re a doctor! How could you wait this long to get yourself checked out?” He’s shouting again, his face twisted in furious rage.
He has good reason to be angry. I’m always pissed when he ignores problems.
“I went to see two different doctors for the migraines but they didn’t find anything. My other symptoms were diffuse. Even you wouldn’t have made the connection until that last one.” He nods, eyes wide with worry. It’s difficult for him to cope with emotions. He’s feeling a hundred things and can’t process it all. So, it seems like he’s having wild mood swings. They aren’t swings, though. He’s trying to understand everything he’s experiencing.
“Okay, I get not wanting to bother me in the nuthatch, but I’m institutionalized anymore. I’ve been home for six weeks. I’m back at work. I’m in therapy, doing well. Why didn’t you say something?” Greg sits down beside me. He raises his arm and drapes it over my shoulder.
“I was hoping there’d be nothing to tell,” I confess. Having told him everything, I feel as if a tremendous weight has been lifted from my shoulders. He’s not mature enough to be everything I’ll need. I wouldn’t expect him to. Who knows though? Maybe he can actually support and take care of me.
Not very likely.
“Phelps is a moron,” House replies at last. I can’t help laughing. He’s right. Ryan might be good at his job, but he’s pretty slow on the uptake. No sense of humor either. “What if I can’t bite my tongue the whole time?”
“Just try. This will be an excellent opportunity for you to test the skills you’ve been working on in therapy,” I tease. Then, I turn and plant my lips on his. My hands rub up and down his back. His fingers dive into my hair, as he attacks my mouth with kisses. We stand, and start making our way to the bedroom. Greg and I shed clothes as we go, squeezing, rubbing, touching each other all over. Then, there’s a numb sensation in my right hand and foot. It spreads up both apendages.
No! No! Not now!
I was praying the hand thing was a one off. Then, I might not have cancer after all. One sided paralysis and/or numbness is a symptom. It’s happening right now. My leg and arm have gone completely numb. I fall to the ground, unable to move.
“Wilson?” House drops to his knees an instant after I hit the floor. “What just happened?” Trying to sit up, I struggle, kick, scream, and then sob.
Damnit! An oncologist with cancer, what kind of sick joke is that?
Summary/Additional Notes: The first chapter was all about Wilson getting seriously injured as a result of hand tremors. I decided the cause is a form of brain cancer. This chapter and the next chapter will involve the diagnosis and then I'll go through treatment and explore the House-Wilson relationship. Both romantically and as friends. I promise not to write anything too graphic as far as sex goes. .
Warnings: Some slash but I kept it PG rated. Comments in italics are Wilson’s thoughts as he’s experiencing this.
Characters: Gregory House and James Wilson
Chapter One
“Symptoms,” House barks as he paces back and forth in front of me. His pain level skyrockets when he’s under stress. Between my injury and potential illness, he’s probably in agony. I want to run over and comfort him. It’s easier to focus on Greg’s issues and ignore my own. It’s what I’ve always done. Before House came into my life, it was Sam. Before her, my brother.
You might be dying. If there was ever a time to be selfish, it’s now.
“It started with headaches. In May, or June…I’m not sure,” I confess. House spins around on his heels. He stares, jaw hanging open. “I’ve always had migraines. I thought it was from stress…until things got worse.”
“You know what’s wrong, don’t you?” He’s practically foaming at the mouth. My hand is rubbing a hole in the back of my neck.
“Not for sure, but I have an idea.” He glares. “You were dealing with a lot this summer. I didn’t see any reason to worry you until I knew we had something to worry about. I had an MRI last week and I’ve an appointment with Phelps tomorrow.” House starts pacing again. “You can come with as long as you can control yourself. No calling him a moron.”
“You’re seeing Phelps…” House understands now. Dr. Ryan Phelps is the one of the best oncologists in the country. His sub-specialty is neurology. I was lucky to get him in my department. I would be lucky to have him as my doctor.
“The headaches started just before you went into Mayfield. The other symptoms came later. Over the summer, I was always cold. Then, I developed anosmia when we started cooking. It really sucked. I missed out on a lot of your dishes. Then, last week I fell asleep on my arm and my fingers stayed numb and tingling for an hour after I woke up.”
“You’re a doctor! How could you wait this long to get yourself checked out?” He’s shouting again, his face twisted in furious rage.
He has good reason to be angry. I’m always pissed when he ignores problems.
“I went to see two different doctors for the migraines but they didn’t find anything. My other symptoms were diffuse. Even you wouldn’t have made the connection until that last one.” He nods, eyes wide with worry. It’s difficult for him to cope with emotions. He’s feeling a hundred things and can’t process it all. So, it seems like he’s having wild mood swings. They aren’t swings, though. He’s trying to understand everything he’s experiencing.
“Okay, I get not wanting to bother me in the nuthatch, but I’m institutionalized anymore. I’ve been home for six weeks. I’m back at work. I’m in therapy, doing well. Why didn’t you say something?” Greg sits down beside me. He raises his arm and drapes it over my shoulder.
“I was hoping there’d be nothing to tell,” I confess. Having told him everything, I feel as if a tremendous weight has been lifted from my shoulders. He’s not mature enough to be everything I’ll need. I wouldn’t expect him to. Who knows though? Maybe he can actually support and take care of me.
Not very likely.
“Phelps is a moron,” House replies at last. I can’t help laughing. He’s right. Ryan might be good at his job, but he’s pretty slow on the uptake. No sense of humor either. “What if I can’t bite my tongue the whole time?”
“Just try. This will be an excellent opportunity for you to test the skills you’ve been working on in therapy,” I tease. Then, I turn and plant my lips on his. My hands rub up and down his back. His fingers dive into my hair, as he attacks my mouth with kisses. We stand, and start making our way to the bedroom. Greg and I shed clothes as we go, squeezing, rubbing, touching each other all over. Then, there’s a numb sensation in my right hand and foot. It spreads up both apendages.
No! No! Not now!
I was praying the hand thing was a one off. Then, I might not have cancer after all. One sided paralysis and/or numbness is a symptom. It’s happening right now. My leg and arm have gone completely numb. I fall to the ground, unable to move.
“Wilson?” House drops to his knees an instant after I hit the floor. “What just happened?” Trying to sit up, I struggle, kick, scream, and then sob.
Damnit! An oncologist with cancer, what kind of sick joke is that?
no subject
this is really beautifully written so far.