James E. Wilson (doctor_j_wilson) wrote in willingtoliefor,
James E. Wilson

[ Monday evening; Short phone conversation between Wilson and Stacy ]

Wilson sat at his desk and stared at his cell phone, looking mildly forlorn. He couldn't believe it had come to this, but it had. Cameron's solution had been to tell Cuddy about House's new "little" problem, and that was what Wilson's initial thought had been, too. But there was one more person whose opinion he still felt he needed -- one other person who still cared deeply about House even though he probably didn't deserve it. So he flipped the phone open, scrolled to the number he wanted and hit the button to dial.

Two rings later, that smooth voice with its pretty Southern lilt answered. "Wilson?" it said uncertainly.

"Hallo, Stace," Wilson said with forced cheer. "Long time no chat."

"You're full of it, we just talked last week. What's the matter?"

Wilson pinched the bridge of his nose. Always so straightforward with him, wasn't she? Well, that was part of why he liked Stacy so much, he supposed. There weren't codes to crack like with House. "Who says there has to be anything wrong for me to call you?"

She snorted laughter and Wilson couldn't help smiling a little. Stacy could always see through his bullshit. Not that he was trying particularly hard to hide it at the moment. "Nobody said there has to be anything wrong, there just always is."

"Fine, fine," Wilson conceded, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet up on his desk. "I'll have to start calling you when there isn't a problem, just to shake things up."

"James Wilson, there is always a problem when you're around," Stacy half-scolded.

"Do you think it's my fault, or is it the company I keep?"

"I don't know," Stacy said, laughing again. "Just tell me the problem and I'll do my best."

"This is a completely hypothetical situation, you understand." Wilson tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. "And even if it wasn't, it doesn't involve anybody you know. Okay?" He heard a sigh and a noncommittal sound from the other end and knew Stacy knew who they were talking about but would keep anything she heard to herself. "Great, thanks. Okay, let's say there's this really brilliant doctor who--"

"Wilson, don't bother with the setup. I know who we're talking about and if you don't tell me what's wrong pretty soon, I'm really going to start worrying," Stacy interrupted.

Sighing, Wilson pinched the bridge of his nose again. "You're not going to worry any less after I tell you. He's... Well, I found morphine in his apartment." This was greeted with silence, so he kept going. "I have no idea how often he uses it. He was going to when I was there, but I wouldn't let him and I took it with me when I left." More silence. "...Stacy?"

"I'm here. You have to do something. He's going to kill himself. You have to tell Cuddy," she said, her voice tight like she was on the edge of tears or panic or both.

"Well, see... There might be a problem with that. Um." Suddenly, Wilson was regretting talking to Stacy about this. "I haven't talked to him about this myself. All I know is what Cameron told me, and as far as I can tell all that happened was she made a guess and House ... I don't know, didn't deny it or something. But, um. Cameron thinks House might be in love with Cuddy. So I'm hesitating because--"

"It'd be another difficulty for them and you don't want to mess up something that could possibly make Greg happy," Stacy finished for him.

Wilson nodded, even though Stacy couldn't see it. "Exactly. But I can't just sit back and do nothing. Then he'd be right. Lately he's been on this kick where every other sentence out of his mouth is something about how I don't really care about him."

"He still doesn't know exactly why your second marriage ended, does he?" Stacy asked.

"No. I'm still letting him think I cheated. Which is a little hellish because he never lets go of that, and thinks he knows me so well," Wilson muttered with a sigh.

"Hey, Jamie?" Her use of the nickname only his family ever called him caught his attention.


"You're a good friend. But you let him treat you like crap."

Wilson gave a short mirthless laugh and shrugged. "He's my best friend," he said, as if that explained everything.

"Then you have to help him. You can't let him kill himself, and you know that's exactly what he's doing. Even if you don't tell Cuddy, you have to do something." Stacy sounded so desperate that Wilson knew he was going to have to keep her up to date on what was going on, and if he didn't do something in a timely manner, Stacy would get herself involved. He doubted that would be very good...

"All right. I will. Promise, Stace. I'll... Cameron knows about it, too. The two of us'll figure something out."

"Let me know, okay? Otherwise, I'll worry myself into an early grave."

"Of course. I had a feeling you'd say that."

"Look, I'm sorry to cut this short, Wilson, but Mark's home. I'll talk to you soon?"

"Absolutely. Bye, Stacy..."

Wilson hit the 'End' key and tossed his phone onto the desk. That had gone just about how he'd thought it would, really. The advice was exactly what he expected. Why had he even bothered? Probably because now someone else knew. He and Allison would have been able to waffle and make excuses and put things off before. But now that Stacy knew... She would keep on him about it. Something would definitely get done.

Tomorrow, he thought. Tonight I'll brainstorm a little on my own, and tomorrow I'll see what Allison thinks. We have to try on our own first before we drag Cuddy into it. With yet another sigh, he packed his things up and headed home. It was going to be a long night.
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