Work Text:
Fear.
That’s the only emotion running through James Wilson right now. It coursed through his veins, threatening to spill out of his whole being as he paced the corridors of the hospital.
Fear.
It was what had hit him when he saw House drop to the floor in the parking lot, losing his footing on the ice that coated the tarmac which was hazardous enough for anyone with two working legs.
Fear.
He felt it when he got to the man who was unconscious, when he shouted for somebody, anybody, to come and help. He felt it when House was put on a stretcher and taken into the hospital.
Fear.
It pushed him into action when House woke up and tried to get off the bed far too soon, almost crashing to the floor again.
Fear.
He felt the full weight of it when House began throwing up, he had been complaining that his back was sore from the fall before this and, despite his lack of consciousness immediately afterwards, he didn’t seem to have any other neurological symptoms up until that point.
Fear.
The emotion was consuming him as he waited to find out any sort of information on the man he loved who had just been rushed into surgery in the hope that the bleeding from his brain could be controlled.
“Dr Wilson?” A surgeon came out to speak to him.
”Yes?” He replied.
”We’re all done,” she told him, “you should be able to come see him in a minute.”
”Oh thank god,” Wilson said.
”We believe that there shouldn’t be any long lasting neurological problems but we can’t be sure so we’ll be keeping a close eye on him in case.”
Wilson knew the drill, he’d seen it hundreds of times and in that moment he didn’t care about the possibility that House’s brain may not be 100%, he was alive. In that moment he only had one emotion flowing through him.
Relief.