TITLE: Memoirs of an Oncology Department Secretary (4/4)
AUTHOR: hwshipper
DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to Heel and Toe Films, Shore Z Productions and Bad Hat Harry Productions in association with Universal Media Studios.
SUMMARY Overall, the POV of Nora, Wilson 's assistant, an OFC, on the House/Wilson relationship, spanning from Wilson 's arrival at PPTH to early season 4, twelve years later. This part: Nora watches House and Wilson's relationship suffer through the reign of Tritter.
BETA: the sterling triedunture
Memoirs of an Oncology Department Secretary - chapter 4
Nora walked into Wilson's office carrying the guitar. She'd come in especially early as she didn't want House to see her with it, but Wilson had still beaten her in.
"Thank you," Wilson greeted her, and stood up to take the case. "Just in time, too; House is seeing all forty of his applicants today and he wants to serenade them. Or something."
She handed the guitar to him, glad to be rid of it.
"Um, Dr. Wilson, do you have a minute?" she asked.
"Of course." Wilson looked surprised and sat down. Nora sat down in front of his desk, feeling a little awkward.
"I just wanted to tell you something. You know I'll be sixty next year, well, I've been thinking about this for a while, and I've decided to retire then, when I get to sixty." It all came out in a rush. "I'll have worked at Princeton Plainsboro for forty years . . . it's time for a break. I think I'd like to do some traveling, perhaps. Anyway, I thought you'd like to know."
Wilson looked mortified. "Nora! Don't leave me!" His voice was light, but stricken. "I can't run this place without you!"
She laughed. "Of course you can."
"I'm not so sure," Wilson said earnestly. He rubbed a hand over his face. "What can I say? Nora, nobody deserves to retire more than you—I just wish I could retire at the same time. You've still got a year, right? Then I want you to devote your last year to finding me a doppelganger to replace you."
She laughed again. "Of course I will."
She left him sitting at his desk, holding House's guitar, and looking mournful. She was relieved, feeling a weight off her mind for having told him. She hummed cheerfully to herself as she walked down the corridors. And she thought how pleased she was that he was still the Head of Oncology.
Because there had been a couple of times in the last few years where she'd really thought he'd be leaving Princeton Plainsboro before she would.
Her stomach had hit the floor that day Wilson had walked in her office and announced, "I've resigned."
She looked at him and gaped. "What?" She'd thought it was House who was in trouble, not Wilson.
"Edward fucking Vogler had me tossed off the Management Board for daring to stand up to him." Wilson slumped into the chair in front of her desk. Nora had never seen him so upset; he very rarely swore in front of her. "So I resigned. Fuck knows there's no way I could work for him now."
"And Dr. Cuddy—let him do it?" Nora said in disbelief. She had great faith in Cuddy to see House and Wilson through whatever obstacles lay in their path.
"Cuddy tried. So did Brown—thank him for me when you see him, will you?" Wilson leaned forward and put his head in his hands. "But they weren't prepared to back House. That was just me. I stuck my neck out and Vogler chopped it off." He sighed heavily. "And the worst part is, it's not like it did any good. Vogler will reconvene the Board tomorrow and get rid of House then. And then what will he do? I can get another job, but House. . .?"
Nora thought how typical it was that even now Wilson was thinking about consequences for House and not for himself.
"Can I do anything?" she asked helplessly.
"Yeah, get me some boxes. I'm gonna start packing up my stuff." Wilson got up and walked out of the room.
Nora sat still for a few minutes, numb with shock, then pulled herself together and headed off to the supply room to find some boxes.
In hindsight, Nora realized the reign of Vogler had been painful, but short-lived. The department had only been without its Head of Oncology for twenty-four hours before Vogler was gone, and Wilson was back. It had been a terrible twenty-four hours, she hadn't slept a wink what with worrying about Wilson, thinking about the possible temporary successors, and trying to figure out the logistics of redistributing Wilson's considerable workload, but once it was over, it was over.
The reign of Tritter was something else altogether.
She first became aware of the vendetta early one morning when Wilson called her, and said, "Nora, I'm going to be in late. Can you re-arrange my morning appointments? I'm waiting for the bank to open, and then I've got to go to the police station."
"Of course," Nora said, unflustered. She figured House needed bailing out again.
"House needs bailing out again. God only knows what he's done this time." Wilson sighed. "I'll be in as soon as I can."
Word soon got around the hospital grapevine. House had got on the wrong side of a policeman, who now seemed intent on proving House was some sort of drug dealer. Nora thought the idea of House parting with any of his previous Vicodin was ridiculous, maybe even a joke, but then she heard House's apartment had been searched, and he'd gotten a lawyer. That all sounded serious.
She was caught completely unawares that evening when a man walked into her office carrying a folder and said, "I'm looking for Dr. Wilson."
She'd never seen him before, but he was obviously a policeman; he must be the cop who was after House. He had been prowling around the hospital, she had heard. She was instantly distrustful. Anything that was a threat to House was also a threat to Wilson.
"He went home about half an hour ago. I'm his assistant," Nora said, stiffly polite. "Can I help you?"
Tritter sat down in front of her desk. He was chewing on nicotine gum, which made Nora feel slightly sick; she associated it with Jack's illness. He'd had to give up smoking when the cancer was diagnosed, and he'd hated that gum too.
"Maybe you can," Tritter said smoothly. "Can you find me an example of Dr. Wilson's signature?"
Nora stared at him. It seemed like an odd request. She couldn't actually think of a reason to refuse, though. She looked through the papers on her desk and found Wilson's signature at the bottom of a letter. She showed it to Tritter, pointedly covering up the body of the letter, although it wasn't about anything sensitive.
Tritter looked at it carefully, then he reached into his folder and took out a clear plastic wallet containing a piece of paper. "Would you say this was Dr. Wilson's signature too? It looks pretty similar."
"It does," Nora agreed guardedly. She looked at the paper. It was a Vicodin prescription for House. She started to have an inkling of where this was going.
"It does indeed," Tritter agreed. "Now this, on the other hand—" he reached into his folder again and took out another plastic wallet—"doesn't actually look like his signature at all, judging from what you've just shown me."
She looked at the second paper, another prescription for House, and felt her mouth go dry. It said James Wilson, but it most assuredly was not Wilson's signature. It was far more legible for a start. Her mind started to race, trying to anticipate pitfalls ahead.
"Oh, I think it probably is," she lied through her teeth. Tritter looked surprised. Nora inwardly quaked, but went on, "He has the worst writing of any doctor I've ever known; his signature varies a lot."
"I see," Tritter said slowly. "Would you be prepared to swear that in court?"
"If I had to," Nora said, meeting his eye.
"Well. Let's hope you don't have to." Tritter put the papers back in his folder. "I have to see Dr. Wilson now to show him these. Can you give me his home address?"
Nora gritted his teeth and gave Tritter the address. He raised his eyebrows on hearing it was a hotel, as if inviting explanations. Nora didn't give him any. Not that she really had one, but if she had, she would not have told him.
"Thank you for your help." Tritter stood up to go. "By the way, I'd like my visit to be a surprise. Can you not call Dr. Wilson and warn him I'm coming? Thanks." He smiled possibly the coldest smile Nora had ever seen, and left.
Nora sat, gripping the arms of her chair, her knuckles white. She wanted more than anything to call Wilson - but she didn't dare. The police could trace phone calls. Even if she used her cell, even if she went out and found a public phone—they'd know a call had got through to him, they'd know it must have been her. She just had to trust absolutely that she'd done the right thing. Because if Wilson didn't tell the same story as her—if he admitted that second scrip was a fake—she'd be in really big trouble and all on her own.
But deep down she knew that wouldn't happen, she knew that there was no way on earth Wilson would betray House like that.
Even Nora didn't realize at that moment, though, just how much further Wilson would have to go to not betray House.
The next day, she went straight to find Wilson and tell him what had happened. He was alarmed to find out that Tritter had spoken to her (Tritter had clearly not mentioned it to him) and obviously relieved when she told him what she'd said. Neither of them referred to the fact that they'd both lied to the police. Nora understood this was not to be mentioned.
The situation turned truly bizarre later that day when she got a call from Wilson on his cell.
"Nora. I'm on my way to Atlantic City."
Nora really thought she must have misheard. "I'm sorry Dr. Wilson, I can't hear you very well."
"I'm going to Atlantic City!" Wilson said loudly. "I'm with House and his patient."
"The man who woke up from a coma?" Nora said incredulously. She'd heard the rumor in the cafeteria like everyone else.
"That's him. He's driving, and it's my car, so... um, anyway, please could you check my calendar and see what I'm supposed to be doing the rest of today? I left in a bit of a hurry and I don't have my PDA with me."
"Just his Ipp-odd," Nora heard House shout in the background.
Nora opened Wilson's calendar on her PC and talked him through it. Two appointments, could be seen by other doctors; two meetings, she'd send apologies. She put the phone down, worried and bemused. She made the necessary arrangements. She recalled the long-standing joke that she was the person who really ran this department; she felt it had never been closer to the truth.
Later that day one of House's fellows took her for coffee (not something that had ever happened before) and pumped her for information about what was happening. Nora let on that Tritter was looking into the prescriptions, knowing that House's staff would be being asked similar questions anyway. She was careful not to let on that House had actually forged the scrips, not that Dr. Cameron would have believed that in any case.
Wilson arrived at the hospital extremely late the following day, and it wasn't even because of the Atlantic City trip. He'd been to see a lawyer (which Nora was vaguely relieved to hear) and Tritter had towed his car. Oh, and frozen his bank accounts. And to cap it all, had his DEA license suspended. Now Nora had a boss pacing furiously around his office because he had no money and no transport and couldn't even bury himself in his work any more, as he couldn't prescribe medicine for his patients.
House, meanwhile, was busy working as if nothing was happening. Except he'd acquired some sort of shoulder injury and had his arm in a black sling.
And worst of all, Dr. Cuddy seemed far more worried about House than Wilson. Nora understood that House could go to prison and lose his license to practice medicine, and this would be costly to the hospital... but Dr. Wilson had already lost a lot more than House had, and if Tritter found out Wilson had lied, Wilson could also go to prison. Nora, sharing the same lie, felt this particularly strongly. But Dr. Cuddy seemed to value the continuing existence of the Diagnostics Department more highly than the well-being of the Oncology Department. Wilson had dozens of staff and hundreds of patients in his care, and none of them were getting the attention they should right now. Nora felt her faith in Dr. Cuddy shake for the first time since the bad old days of Vogler.
In the midst of it all, Wilson came and sat down in her office and said, "Nora, I think I'm going to quit. Resign. I can't go on like this. The department will be better off without me."
"You can't possibly," Nora said immediately. The thought filled her with horror. She remembered the nightmare twenty-four hours of Vogler.
"I can't let my patients suffer any more because of this," Wilson said, desperation in his voice. "House just kept me waiting three hours—three—before he let Cameron go do a scrip for me. I can't work like this. Someone's going to get hurt and die. I don't know what to do."
Give up House, Nora thought but didn't say. "You don't have to quit. There must be other ways round this." She thought for a moment. "Refer your patients elsewhere. Share them with all the other doctors here, maybe send some over to Princeton Hospital."
"And then sit on my ass all day?"
"Dr. Wilson, you're a department head," Nora reminded him, not for the first time. "You're not expected to spend all your time seeing patients. Your caseload is far higher than Dr. Collins' used to be, in fact higher than any other Head of Oncology I've worked for. All the patient files in the whole department come across your desk anyway; you can keep an eye on your patients that way. And your colleagues will ask you for consults on them, too, as you know their histories; you can do that. And you can spend some time on the admin and management side of things instead. It's not like you don't sit on enough committees for that to keep you busy all on its own."
Wilson stared at her, and she could see him realizing she was right.
"Refer everyone out," he said slowly. "Okay, I'll do it. Can you get all my patient files together, and draft me a standard letter? And get me some envelopes. I'll share them all around." He started to look marginally more hopeful than before.
I so keep this place going, Nora thought as she turned towards her computer screen.
Although the well-being of the department was always her primary concern, it broke Nora's heart on a personal level to see Wilson ambling around the hospital the next few days, apparently rudderless, and estranged from House. She knew House and Wilson had had a blazing row while Wilson was in the middle of his patient referrals; Nora heard most of it as she was bringing the last few files in to Wilson's office. She'd hoped House might actually want to help Wilson through stuff, but it didn't look like it.
It was very late one evening a few days before Christmas that Wilson came into her office, sat down in front of her desk, and said, "Nora, there's something I need to tell you."
She looked at him, fearful at his tone, and upset at how shattered he looked.
"I'm going to tell Tritter that House forged those scrips," he said.
"No," Nora said instinctively.
"Yes. I have to," Wilson said, sounding more decisive than he had in a while. "I had to tell you first so you know you don't need to . . . tell the same story anymore."
She was grateful for this, but said, "Are you sure you're doing the right thing?"
"Don't make me doubt!" Wilson said, laughing, a touch of hysteria apparent. He got up quickly and left the room.
The next few days were a nightmare: House blazing around the hospital, detoxing, stealing pills, and Wilson suffering because he had to watch House suffering and this time he was the cause. Nora went away to spend Christmas at her sister's, and came back to find House unexpectedly had gone to rehab. Wilson seemed to have gotten part of what he'd wanted, but House was still going to trial, and Wilson was still going around looking stressed and miserable.
The last straw for Nora was when she found Wilson sitting at her desk, not using his computer, not writing, not reading, not even apparently thinking. Just sitting, staring into space. Unable to turn her usual professional blind eye, she sat down on the other side of his desk and asked him tentatively if he was OK. Unexpectedly, he opened up a little.
"It's just waiting for House's trial. The idea he might go to prison." Wilson looked stricken. "I changed my mind, you know, I told Tritter I wouldn't testify. He told me he'd use my statement anyway and I'd go to jail. If he hadn't got House through that pharmacy log instead, I guess that's what would have happened." He sighed. "I told Tritter it would be better me than him, statistically . . . that House saves more lives . . . that the world would be better off that way . . ."
Nora had had enough. She put her scruples aside and said, bluntly, "Dr. Wilson, I have never heard such rubbish."
He looked at her, wide-eyed.
"Of course Dr. House saves lives. Of course he's a genius. That does not mean the world would be better off if you were in jail and he wasn't." Nora realized she was speaking loudly and stabbing the air with a finger, which was most unlike her; she carried on anyway. "Dr. Wilson, I don't mean to be speak out of turn here, but you need help. Look at yourself. You're depressed and you're suffering from low self-esteem. House is in rehab now, getting his own help; you should go see a psychiatrist."
Wilson looked incredulous, then angry, but he was too fair-minded to take offence. He thought for a minute, then said, slowly, "You think I'm . . . depressed?"
"I'm sure you're depressed." Nora had seen it first hand; Jack had suffered from depression many years ago when going through a bad time at work. "Go see a shrink. Please."
Wilson sighed and put his head in his hands. "I can't see a shrink. It wouldn't work. I'd have to talk about House, and there's no way House wouldn't find out, and break in their office, and read my file. I've seen it happen too many times."
"It doesn't have to be anyone at this hospital. It shouldn't be, anyway," Nora urged. "We could find you someone somewhere else. Not in Princeton. Not in Jersey, even."
"I could find a shrink in China and House would hack into their computer and look at their files that way," Wilson retorted.
"House has got a lot of other things to occupy himself at the moment," Nora pointed out. "And you know how self-centered he is. Why would he find out? He's barely noticed most of what he's put you through recently."
"That's not true," Wilson said, automatically leaping to House's defense, then hesitated. "I mean . . . he does notice, but with all his own stuff . . . the detox . . . the trial . . ."
Nora waited.
"All right," Wilson sat forward in his chair, his brow furrowed. "Get me a list of shrinks, as far away from here as possible within driving distance, nowhere House has any connection with. I'll pick one, you can get me an appointment. Keep it out of my calendar, don't write it down anywhere, actually. Just tell me when and where, and I'll go."
Nora looked back on her shrink recommendation as one of the best things she'd ever done, both for Wilson personally and for the department. She found Wilson a suitable doctor who provided counseling and prescribed anti-depressants, and gradually, over several months, Nora watched Wilson recover some of that vanished self-esteem. She made a new appointment for him every couple of weeks, never the same day or time successively in case House noticed a pattern. If it had been anyone but House the whole situation would have seemed ridiculously cloak and dagger; as it was, neither Wilson nor Nora even stopped to consider going about things in any different way.
House got through his trial, and eased back into his job and although he was still on the Vicodin, Nora could see he was taking less than before. She hoped it had all been worth it. Certainly he and Wilson seemed to find some sort of reconciliation, although it took a bit of time before they were back to how they used to be.
The moment when Nora knew that House and Wilson were back on track was early one morning when she was stopping at a cafe to get some coffee on the way in to work (it was better coffee than that to be found in the hospital cafeteria). As she waited for her order, she suddenly spotted House and Wilson at a table in the corner. It was extremely early for House, she thought idly, before realizing they were both wearing the same clothes they'd been wearing the day before; clearly they'd both pulled all-nighters at the hospital. She recalled that Wilson had been working to meet a deadline for a clinical trial.
It looked like they'd both just finished breakfast; empty plates cluttered their table. And her heart was gladdened to see that they were chatting and smiling about something, and sitting close together—in fact, she rather thought their hands, resting idly on the table, were touching lightly. Actually—and she wouldn't have noticed this if she hadn't looked—she also thought their knees were brushing each other under the table. She watched as Wilson put his head on one side, rested his chin in a hand, and laughed at something House said—they were flirting with each other again. She hadn't seen that in a long time.
Nora didn't intend to disturb them, but then Wilson spotted her. He pulled his hand slightly back from House's (although he didn't move his knee) and waved her over. Nora came over, slightly embarrassed at meeting them both outside of the workplace.
"Nora," Wilson hailed her. "I worked all night to get those patients submitted for that trial. I'm going home now to get a bit of sleep, and shower and change; I'll be in late morning, maybe early afternoon. Just to let you know. I've got a clear calendar, I think."
"You have," Nora confirmed; she'd left it clear deliberately, thinking this might happen. "That's fine; I'll see you later."
"See you later," Wilson echoed. She turned and headed back to the counter, picked up her coffee, and went towards the door. She glanced back just before she left, and saw House and Wilson deep in conversation again. And their hands were definitely touching now.
Later that morning, she found she needed to speak to Wilson, and tried calling his phone at his hotel. He didn't pick up, so she tried his cell, and got him on that instead.
She assumed he'd gone back to House's for that sleep and shower, though of course she didn't ask.
Nora had many retirement parties which lasted the whole of her last week. She got cards and presents not only from Oncology and Diagnostics but from most other departments in the hospital. She was taken out to dinner by a group of administrative staff colleagues from across the hospital, as well as by Wilson personally. As she was by far the longest serving employee of Princeton Plainsboro, Nora found herself at the center of hospital-wide drinks in the cafeteria on her last day, being given an especially large card, and a large collection given to her in euros for use in her forthcoming grand tour of Europe, presented by Dr. Cuddy herself.
True to her word, Nora had spent a large proportion of her last months at work finding and training a successor, a solid woman with vast administrative experience in another hospital, and prepped her with as much information about Wilson and House as she felt able to share. Which was by no means everything.
Wilson was there at her party, of course, being charming and smiling and personally topping up her glass of champagne at regular intervals, and Nora started to feel a little bit tipsy and a little bit teary to be leaving. It was time to go; she knew she was doing the right thing, but how she wished Jack was still there to be sharing the moment with her.
House sidled into the room, looking for Wilson, and Nora watched Wilson go over to him and apparently persuade him to stay and have a drink. House and Wilson stood together for a little while, drinking and chatting, and standing really quite close together, Nora thought.
After a polite interval, Nora excused herself from the group she was chatting to and made her way over to House and Wilson. Wilson looked at her with the slightly mournful look he'd adopted when talking to her over the last week. House stared at her, his blue eyes sharper and more penetrating than ever.
"Nora, Nora, what am I going to do without you?" Wilson said sorrowfully.
The alcohol and impending departure had loosened Nora's tongue and removed some of her scruples, and she found herself saying to House, "You go easy on Dr. Wilson for a bit, Dr. House, until the new girl settles in."
House grinned rather wolfishly and chose to be outrageous. "I'm always easy when Dr. Wilson is around."
Wilson spluttered on his drink.
Nora smiled, and said in full daring I'm-about-to-retire mode, "Oh, I've known that pretty much ever since you've been working here, Dr. House. I was down in the underground garage one night, you see, when I saw the two of you one time. It was quite a—close encounter, shall we say."
Wilson choked again, and House looked at Nora in disbelief. She looked him dead in the eye, still smiling, still daring, and suddenly House smiled back, one of those rare genuine wide smiles.
"I always knew you looked out for us two," House said. He tipped his head back and drained the rest of his glass in a gulp. Wilson looked from House to Nora, perplexed, and with a slight blush spreading across his cheeks.
"It was in my job description," Nora returned smartly. "All for the good of the department."
Someone called her from across the room; Nora smiled for the last time at House and Wilson together, and walked away.
END
[A/N: thanks very much to all of you who came along for this ride with me, and especially everyone who took the time to review which showed me there was someone else out there apart from me who wanted to read it all! I enjoyed writing and I hope you all enjoyed reading.