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namasteNew Fic: Family, Friends and Other Complications
Chapter One: When Blythe Met Wilson
Author: Namaste
Rating: Gen
Summary: Wilson is drawn into the House family and all its issues. The start of a multi-chapter story. More details on future plans in the Author’s Note inside. Link to the first chapter, with a link from there to the second.
The first time Blythe met James Wilson he was laughing.
So was her son.
She stopped in the hallway outside Greg’s office and listened to the sound of his laugh. It was deep and quiet. She smiled at the sound, let it wash over her. It echoed off the walls in a soft baritone, a contrast to the other laugh coming from the room. That one was lighter, freer than Greg’s had been since he was a young boy.
AN: When I first saw “Daddy’s Boy,” it seemed to me that Wilson and House’s parents had a long-standing relationship of some kind. They certainly knew each other, and Wilson seemed to be something of a conduit between House and his parents -- arranging dinners, talking to John House directly etc. So I decided to play with how that contact was established, and how it grew. I’m stealing a bit from myself here, using the same format from “Tracking Time” in terms of seeing their relationship develop. Rather than year-by-year however, the fic’s chapters will be made up of their meetings during different events. So the first chapter is “When Blythe Met Wilson,” the second “When Greg Got Sick.” (Others planned include “When Greg Went Home” and “When Stacy Left.”)
Now I have a general idea of where this is going, but I also want it to be a little more organic than my last multi-chapter fic, so if anyone has any ideas or suggestions, feel free to share.
The first time Blythe met James Wilson he was laughing.
So was her son.
She stopped in the hallway outside Greg’s office and listened to the sound of his laugh. It was deep and quiet. She smiled at the sound, let it wash over her. It echoed off the walls in a soft baritone, a contrast to the other laugh coming from the room. That one was lighter, freer than Greg’s had been since he was a young boy.
Blythe waited as the laughter died down and was replaced with the low murmur of voices before she stepped forward again. She knocked on the half-opened door as she walked into Greg’s office.
She looked first at Greg where he sat behind his desk, leaning back in his chair. He smiled when he saw her and for a moment she forgot any worries she’d had about the flight to New Jersey or the drive to Princeton.
The other voice had belonged to a younger man. He was slouched in a chair opposite the desk, appearing at ease in the room and with Greg. He sat up straight when she walked in.
Blythe looked back at Greg. He remained tilted back in his chair.
“Hi Mom,” he said. He looked past her to the empty hallway.
“Your father’s waiting in the car,” she said.
“Why?”
“He didn’t want to pay for parking. He said he’d drive around the block a few times.”
“I’ve told him I can validate his parking.” Blythe recognized the frustrated look on her son’s face. She nodded slightly.
“I know,” she said. “I reminded him of that, but you know your father.”
“Unfortunately,” Greg mumbled. Blythe ignored him.
“He says free parking is for real patients. It’s not right for him to use it just when he’s visiting.”
Greg shook his head and covered his eyes with one hand. With the other he gestured across the desk. “Mom, this is Wilson, Wilson, my Mom.”
Blythe took in the white coat, the name embroidered above the left chest pocket, obscured by a half-dozen pens. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Wilson,” she said.
He stood. “Call me James,” he said, and shook her hand. Blythe liked the way he looked her in the eye, made her feel as if she was the most important person in the room.
“Call him Jimmy, he loves that,” Greg said, and Dr. Wilson smiled slightly, turned back toward him.
“I’ve always assumed someone taught him manners, but he just ignores them,” Dr. Wilson said. He smiled and winked slightly at Blythe and she smiled back, happy to be a part of the joke. She could tell he was younger than Greg, but probably not as young as he looked.
“Do you work for Greg?”
Both men answered at once.
“He wishes,” Greg said. “I’d never have him.”
“No, thank God,” James said.
Both of them smiled, and Blythe heard a slight chuckle coming from Greg.
“I’ll let you get back to not working together then,” she said.
“Don’t go on my account, Mrs. House,” James protested. “I was just leaving.”
“That’s quite all right,” Blythe said. “I just wanted to let you know that we’d gotten into town.”
“They have these new inventions called telephones,” Greg said. He got up and walked around his desk. “You could have called.”
“I know I could have, but we were passing right by,” Blythe said. “It was just as easy to stop in. Besides, this way I get to tell people I’m here to see my son, the doctor.”
Greg gave her a quick hug. “Just don’t give them my name,” he said. “You might not get the reception you were hoping for.” He turned with her to walk her out of the office. He released the hug, but kept one arm around her shoulders as they walked side by side down the hall. James followed, closing the door behind them.
“Gee thanks.” Greg turned to James, speaking over the top of Blythe’s head. “What if I didn’t have my key?”
“Then you would have picked the lock, same thing you do when you want to get into my office,” he said.
A friend, Blythe thought. Greg’s got a friend. She was surprised to feel the same happiness in this as she had when he was nine and they’d moved to a new base.
“You two staying at the same place?” Greg asked. Blythe looked up at him and nodded. “We’ll pick you up there at 7 for dinner,” he said.
“I thought Stacy was out of town this weekend.” Blythe felt Greg’s arm loosen around her shoulders, then drop away as they entered the main hallway.
“She is,” he said. “Wilson’s joining us.”
“I am?”
“You are,” Greg said. “I need a wing man to divert my Dad’s attention. You can tell him sob stories about brave cancer patients. He’ll love that.”
“Greg, your father is not your enemy.” Blythe heard Greg give a dismissive snort, but he didn’t say anything. “But James, you’re more than welcome.” Then she smiled. “Maybe you can tell me why my son hasn’t provided me with any grandchildren yet.”
“On second thought, Wilson, forget about it. No reason to put you out,” Greg said.
James just laughed at that. “I wouldn’t dream of disappointing your mother, House, not when it sounds like it could be such an interesting evening.”
The elevator opened and Blythe stepped in. Greg and James both remained in the hallway. She pushed the button for the lobby level. “I’ll see you both at seven,” she said, and waved as the doors closed.
It was five minutes past seven when Greg and James arrived at the hotel. John had been ready to go at five minutes before seven, and had insisted they head to the lobby to wait there.
“What if we miss them?” Blythe had asked.
“We won’t,” John said.
He was right. John was watching the front doors when they came in. He was on his feet before they’d pushed open the second set of doors, walking through side by side. Blythe saw Greg lean over and say something to James, and James smiled slightly.
“You’re late,” John said.
Greg looked at his wristwatch, tapped the crystal. “Must be running slow,” he said.
“That excuse work on your boss?” John asked.
Blythe touched his arm. “Don’t start,” she whispered, but she’d already seen the look on Greg’s face change. The humor that was in his eyes when he’d walked into the hotel had disappeared.
“My boss has better things to do than clock my every second,” Greg said.
“Sorry, it’s my fault,” James said. “I had some car problems.” Blythe didn’t believe him, but was grateful for the lie. He stepped forward, held his hand out to John. “I’m James Wilson. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
John took his hand, shook it. Blythe saw him study James. “What kind of problems?”
“Nothing serious,” James said. John let go of his hand and James pushed both his hands down into the pockets of his overcoat.
“You sure? Sometimes what looks easy isn’t.”
“Loose battery cable,” Greg said. “I fixed it.”
Blythe saw James steal a quick look at Greg, but he didn’t correct him.
“Maybe I should take a look at it,” John said. “Just in case.”
“It’s fine now,” James said. He nodded toward Blythe. “So what did you do this afternoon, Mrs. House?”
It was a bad attempt to change the subject, but Blythe wasn’t going to complain. “Nothing special,” she said. “There’s a tea shop downtown that Stacy took me to once. I made John come with me and we just took a break. Traveling isn’t as easy to these old bones as it used to be.”
James smiled. “That’s what my mother says whenever she comes for a visit.”
“Are they far away?” Blythe noticed that neither John nor Greg seemed to be paying attention, but at least they weren’t fighting.
“Not far,” James said. “About a three-hour drive. Good thing because my father hates to fly.”
“Scared?” John asked.
“The way he puts it is that he’s not scared of flying, it’s just the landing he worries about,” James laughed a little, and Blythe noticed that John seemed more relaxed than he’d been while they waited. “My Dad claims he had a bad flight back when he was in the Army, and he never wanted to try it again.”
“What did he do in the Army?”
“Nothing exciting,” James said. “Supply. He always complained that the Army sent him all the way to Germany just to pump gas.”
“When was he there?”
Blythe saw John relax, just the slight movement from the perfect posture of a Marine to the casual stance he adopted at home as he spoke with James. She wondered if he realized how easily James had steered him into a comfortable topic. She wondered if James knew how good he was at it. She glanced over at Greg and saw the slight smile on his face. He, obviously, knew about James’ talent.
Greg caught her looking at him and winked. “So,” she said, “where are we going to dinner?”
“Seeing as you’re outnumbered three-to-one in the gender category today, I figured we’d hit a steak house,” Greg said.
“And you already dragged me out for tea. I’ve had enough doilies and white tablecloths for one day,” John said. She was pleased to see him agree with Greg on something. “Steak it is.”
----------------
Wilson didn’t know what he expected from House’s parents. House had spoken a few times about his mother, about traveling. His silence about his father told Wilson more about their relationship than the few things he’d actually said.
“Call him Colonel. He’ll like that,” House had said on the way over. Wilson couldn’t tell then if it had been House’s idea of a joke, but looking at John House now, he couldn’t think of him as anything but the Marine Corps officer he was.
“Officer,” House’s voice echoed in his memory. “Not a gentleman.”
The man to Wilson’s left didn’t resemble House at all. He sat straight while House leaned forward in his chair, playing with his fork. The Colonel held himself as if he were six inches taller than he was, while House slouched, making it easy to forget how tall he was.
Wilson looked over at Blythe House, seeing there the finer bone structure that House carried, the slender fingers, the high cheekbones.
“I can’t imagine why anyone would want to be a cancer specialist,” the Colonel said, and Wilson turned back toward him. “Not that we don’t need cancer doctors, but it seems like it’d be damned depressing.”
“Be even more depressing if no one went into it,” Wilson said, and was satisfied to see him snort in approval.
It was only when the man spoke that Wilson could see any resemblance between House and his father, all blunt comments and no sympathy.
“I don’t imagine it’s anything my son would be any good at,” the Colonel said. “Too much hand holding for his taste.”
“Maybe I think I can do something better than just hold their hands,” House said, “like save their lives.”
Wilson saw House’s mother glance down at her salad plate, concentrating on stabbing a tomato, and Wilson wondered if the stress was this intense every time House and his father were in the same room.
“I’ve seen your bedside manner, House,” Wilson teased, trying to ease the tension. “I think they’re happier when you’re nowhere near them.”
“All part of my grand plan,” House said. “That way patients never ask to see me.”
Wilson was glad to see Blythe House smile at the teasing, though the Colonel’s stern expression hadn’t changed.
“But Greg’s done a lot to help us out in oncology,” Wilson said and looked over at the Colonel. “He’s consulted on some of my more difficult cases.”
“Which just goes to show the sorry state of oncology these days,” House said.
The Colonel didn’t say anything, just finished off his beer. Wilson glanced down at his own salad plate, and stabbed a bit of lettuce and a cucumber. The table fell back into silence. He looked back up, saw House still playing with the fork, balancing it across the knife.
Wilson swallowed his bite of salad and cleared his throat. “So House ... Greg,” Wilson corrected himself, “Greg told me you flew faster than the speed of sound once.”
“More than once,” the Colonel said. “I’ve gone over Mach 1.5, but of course that’s nothing these days.”
Wilson asked him another question, then another, letting the sound of the Colonel’s voice fill their corner of the restaurant. The Colonel told him about training and the test flights he used to take out over desert and ocean. He was telling about his second supersonic flight when Wilson glanced to his right. House and his mother were talking softly on the other side of the table.
After dinner, as they walked through the parking lot Blythe House slid next to Wilson.
“I hope you enjoyed your dinner, Mrs. House,” he said.
“Please, call me Blythe,” she said. “And I enjoyed myself very much. Thank you, James, for everything.”
When Greg Got Sick
and all 20 chapters can be linked to here:
When Greg Went Home
When Stacy Left
When John and Blythe Moved
When Blythe Didn’t Meet Julie
When Days Were Bad
When Greg Got His Department
When Days Were Good
When John Retired
When Greg Went For A Visit
When They Weren’t Together
When John Took Blythe to Paris
When Wilson Lived With House
When Greg Was Shot
When Blythe Met Steve McQueen
When Greg Got Better
When Greg Got Worse
When Greg Called At Christmas
When Greg Apologized
Chapter One: When Blythe Met Wilson
Author: Namaste
Rating: Gen
Summary: Wilson is drawn into the House family and all its issues. The start of a multi-chapter story. More details on future plans in the Author’s Note inside. Link to the first chapter, with a link from there to the second.
The first time Blythe met James Wilson he was laughing.
So was her son.
She stopped in the hallway outside Greg’s office and listened to the sound of his laugh. It was deep and quiet. She smiled at the sound, let it wash over her. It echoed off the walls in a soft baritone, a contrast to the other laugh coming from the room. That one was lighter, freer than Greg’s had been since he was a young boy.
AN: When I first saw “Daddy’s Boy,” it seemed to me that Wilson and House’s parents had a long-standing relationship of some kind. They certainly knew each other, and Wilson seemed to be something of a conduit between House and his parents -- arranging dinners, talking to John House directly etc. So I decided to play with how that contact was established, and how it grew. I’m stealing a bit from myself here, using the same format from “Tracking Time” in terms of seeing their relationship develop. Rather than year-by-year however, the fic’s chapters will be made up of their meetings during different events. So the first chapter is “When Blythe Met Wilson,” the second “When Greg Got Sick.” (Others planned include “When Greg Went Home” and “When Stacy Left.”)
Now I have a general idea of where this is going, but I also want it to be a little more organic than my last multi-chapter fic, so if anyone has any ideas or suggestions, feel free to share.
The first time Blythe met James Wilson he was laughing.
So was her son.
She stopped in the hallway outside Greg’s office and listened to the sound of his laugh. It was deep and quiet. She smiled at the sound, let it wash over her. It echoed off the walls in a soft baritone, a contrast to the other laugh coming from the room. That one was lighter, freer than Greg’s had been since he was a young boy.
Blythe waited as the laughter died down and was replaced with the low murmur of voices before she stepped forward again. She knocked on the half-opened door as she walked into Greg’s office.
She looked first at Greg where he sat behind his desk, leaning back in his chair. He smiled when he saw her and for a moment she forgot any worries she’d had about the flight to New Jersey or the drive to Princeton.
The other voice had belonged to a younger man. He was slouched in a chair opposite the desk, appearing at ease in the room and with Greg. He sat up straight when she walked in.
Blythe looked back at Greg. He remained tilted back in his chair.
“Hi Mom,” he said. He looked past her to the empty hallway.
“Your father’s waiting in the car,” she said.
“Why?”
“He didn’t want to pay for parking. He said he’d drive around the block a few times.”
“I’ve told him I can validate his parking.” Blythe recognized the frustrated look on her son’s face. She nodded slightly.
“I know,” she said. “I reminded him of that, but you know your father.”
“Unfortunately,” Greg mumbled. Blythe ignored him.
“He says free parking is for real patients. It’s not right for him to use it just when he’s visiting.”
Greg shook his head and covered his eyes with one hand. With the other he gestured across the desk. “Mom, this is Wilson, Wilson, my Mom.”
Blythe took in the white coat, the name embroidered above the left chest pocket, obscured by a half-dozen pens. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Wilson,” she said.
He stood. “Call me James,” he said, and shook her hand. Blythe liked the way he looked her in the eye, made her feel as if she was the most important person in the room.
“Call him Jimmy, he loves that,” Greg said, and Dr. Wilson smiled slightly, turned back toward him.
“I’ve always assumed someone taught him manners, but he just ignores them,” Dr. Wilson said. He smiled and winked slightly at Blythe and she smiled back, happy to be a part of the joke. She could tell he was younger than Greg, but probably not as young as he looked.
“Do you work for Greg?”
Both men answered at once.
“He wishes,” Greg said. “I’d never have him.”
“No, thank God,” James said.
Both of them smiled, and Blythe heard a slight chuckle coming from Greg.
“I’ll let you get back to not working together then,” she said.
“Don’t go on my account, Mrs. House,” James protested. “I was just leaving.”
“That’s quite all right,” Blythe said. “I just wanted to let you know that we’d gotten into town.”
“They have these new inventions called telephones,” Greg said. He got up and walked around his desk. “You could have called.”
“I know I could have, but we were passing right by,” Blythe said. “It was just as easy to stop in. Besides, this way I get to tell people I’m here to see my son, the doctor.”
Greg gave her a quick hug. “Just don’t give them my name,” he said. “You might not get the reception you were hoping for.” He turned with her to walk her out of the office. He released the hug, but kept one arm around her shoulders as they walked side by side down the hall. James followed, closing the door behind them.
“Gee thanks.” Greg turned to James, speaking over the top of Blythe’s head. “What if I didn’t have my key?”
“Then you would have picked the lock, same thing you do when you want to get into my office,” he said.
A friend, Blythe thought. Greg’s got a friend. She was surprised to feel the same happiness in this as she had when he was nine and they’d moved to a new base.
“You two staying at the same place?” Greg asked. Blythe looked up at him and nodded. “We’ll pick you up there at 7 for dinner,” he said.
“I thought Stacy was out of town this weekend.” Blythe felt Greg’s arm loosen around her shoulders, then drop away as they entered the main hallway.
“She is,” he said. “Wilson’s joining us.”
“I am?”
“You are,” Greg said. “I need a wing man to divert my Dad’s attention. You can tell him sob stories about brave cancer patients. He’ll love that.”
“Greg, your father is not your enemy.” Blythe heard Greg give a dismissive snort, but he didn’t say anything. “But James, you’re more than welcome.” Then she smiled. “Maybe you can tell me why my son hasn’t provided me with any grandchildren yet.”
“On second thought, Wilson, forget about it. No reason to put you out,” Greg said.
James just laughed at that. “I wouldn’t dream of disappointing your mother, House, not when it sounds like it could be such an interesting evening.”
The elevator opened and Blythe stepped in. Greg and James both remained in the hallway. She pushed the button for the lobby level. “I’ll see you both at seven,” she said, and waved as the doors closed.
It was five minutes past seven when Greg and James arrived at the hotel. John had been ready to go at five minutes before seven, and had insisted they head to the lobby to wait there.
“What if we miss them?” Blythe had asked.
“We won’t,” John said.
He was right. John was watching the front doors when they came in. He was on his feet before they’d pushed open the second set of doors, walking through side by side. Blythe saw Greg lean over and say something to James, and James smiled slightly.
“You’re late,” John said.
Greg looked at his wristwatch, tapped the crystal. “Must be running slow,” he said.
“That excuse work on your boss?” John asked.
Blythe touched his arm. “Don’t start,” she whispered, but she’d already seen the look on Greg’s face change. The humor that was in his eyes when he’d walked into the hotel had disappeared.
“My boss has better things to do than clock my every second,” Greg said.
“Sorry, it’s my fault,” James said. “I had some car problems.” Blythe didn’t believe him, but was grateful for the lie. He stepped forward, held his hand out to John. “I’m James Wilson. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
John took his hand, shook it. Blythe saw him study James. “What kind of problems?”
“Nothing serious,” James said. John let go of his hand and James pushed both his hands down into the pockets of his overcoat.
“You sure? Sometimes what looks easy isn’t.”
“Loose battery cable,” Greg said. “I fixed it.”
Blythe saw James steal a quick look at Greg, but he didn’t correct him.
“Maybe I should take a look at it,” John said. “Just in case.”
“It’s fine now,” James said. He nodded toward Blythe. “So what did you do this afternoon, Mrs. House?”
It was a bad attempt to change the subject, but Blythe wasn’t going to complain. “Nothing special,” she said. “There’s a tea shop downtown that Stacy took me to once. I made John come with me and we just took a break. Traveling isn’t as easy to these old bones as it used to be.”
James smiled. “That’s what my mother says whenever she comes for a visit.”
“Are they far away?” Blythe noticed that neither John nor Greg seemed to be paying attention, but at least they weren’t fighting.
“Not far,” James said. “About a three-hour drive. Good thing because my father hates to fly.”
“Scared?” John asked.
“The way he puts it is that he’s not scared of flying, it’s just the landing he worries about,” James laughed a little, and Blythe noticed that John seemed more relaxed than he’d been while they waited. “My Dad claims he had a bad flight back when he was in the Army, and he never wanted to try it again.”
“What did he do in the Army?”
“Nothing exciting,” James said. “Supply. He always complained that the Army sent him all the way to Germany just to pump gas.”
“When was he there?”
Blythe saw John relax, just the slight movement from the perfect posture of a Marine to the casual stance he adopted at home as he spoke with James. She wondered if he realized how easily James had steered him into a comfortable topic. She wondered if James knew how good he was at it. She glanced over at Greg and saw the slight smile on his face. He, obviously, knew about James’ talent.
Greg caught her looking at him and winked. “So,” she said, “where are we going to dinner?”
“Seeing as you’re outnumbered three-to-one in the gender category today, I figured we’d hit a steak house,” Greg said.
“And you already dragged me out for tea. I’ve had enough doilies and white tablecloths for one day,” John said. She was pleased to see him agree with Greg on something. “Steak it is.”
----------------
Wilson didn’t know what he expected from House’s parents. House had spoken a few times about his mother, about traveling. His silence about his father told Wilson more about their relationship than the few things he’d actually said.
“Call him Colonel. He’ll like that,” House had said on the way over. Wilson couldn’t tell then if it had been House’s idea of a joke, but looking at John House now, he couldn’t think of him as anything but the Marine Corps officer he was.
“Officer,” House’s voice echoed in his memory. “Not a gentleman.”
The man to Wilson’s left didn’t resemble House at all. He sat straight while House leaned forward in his chair, playing with his fork. The Colonel held himself as if he were six inches taller than he was, while House slouched, making it easy to forget how tall he was.
Wilson looked over at Blythe House, seeing there the finer bone structure that House carried, the slender fingers, the high cheekbones.
“I can’t imagine why anyone would want to be a cancer specialist,” the Colonel said, and Wilson turned back toward him. “Not that we don’t need cancer doctors, but it seems like it’d be damned depressing.”
“Be even more depressing if no one went into it,” Wilson said, and was satisfied to see him snort in approval.
It was only when the man spoke that Wilson could see any resemblance between House and his father, all blunt comments and no sympathy.
“I don’t imagine it’s anything my son would be any good at,” the Colonel said. “Too much hand holding for his taste.”
“Maybe I think I can do something better than just hold their hands,” House said, “like save their lives.”
Wilson saw House’s mother glance down at her salad plate, concentrating on stabbing a tomato, and Wilson wondered if the stress was this intense every time House and his father were in the same room.
“I’ve seen your bedside manner, House,” Wilson teased, trying to ease the tension. “I think they’re happier when you’re nowhere near them.”
“All part of my grand plan,” House said. “That way patients never ask to see me.”
Wilson was glad to see Blythe House smile at the teasing, though the Colonel’s stern expression hadn’t changed.
“But Greg’s done a lot to help us out in oncology,” Wilson said and looked over at the Colonel. “He’s consulted on some of my more difficult cases.”
“Which just goes to show the sorry state of oncology these days,” House said.
The Colonel didn’t say anything, just finished off his beer. Wilson glanced down at his own salad plate, and stabbed a bit of lettuce and a cucumber. The table fell back into silence. He looked back up, saw House still playing with the fork, balancing it across the knife.
Wilson swallowed his bite of salad and cleared his throat. “So House ... Greg,” Wilson corrected himself, “Greg told me you flew faster than the speed of sound once.”
“More than once,” the Colonel said. “I’ve gone over Mach 1.5, but of course that’s nothing these days.”
Wilson asked him another question, then another, letting the sound of the Colonel’s voice fill their corner of the restaurant. The Colonel told him about training and the test flights he used to take out over desert and ocean. He was telling about his second supersonic flight when Wilson glanced to his right. House and his mother were talking softly on the other side of the table.
After dinner, as they walked through the parking lot Blythe House slid next to Wilson.
“I hope you enjoyed your dinner, Mrs. House,” he said.
“Please, call me Blythe,” she said. “And I enjoyed myself very much. Thank you, James, for everything.”
When Greg Got Sick
and all 20 chapters can be linked to here:
When Greg Went Home
When Stacy Left
When John and Blythe Moved
When Blythe Didn’t Meet Julie
When Days Were Bad
When Greg Got His Department
When Days Were Good
When John Retired
When Greg Went For A Visit
When They Weren’t Together
When John Took Blythe to Paris
When Wilson Lived With House
When Greg Was Shot
When Blythe Met Steve McQueen
When Greg Got Better
When Greg Got Worse
When Greg Called At Christmas
When Greg Apologized
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-14 11:32 am (UTC)On to the next part.....
(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-14 11:55 am (UTC)on to next ->
(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-14 03:47 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-14 05:53 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-14 10:04 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-14 10:15 pm (UTC)I like your Wilson very much in this piece (much more than I like him in current episodes, actually). Here he's using his 'manipulative' talents to make everyone actually feel better. It's what makes him a good oncologist, I guess. It's been too easy for me to forget his good side recently.
Love Blythe's characterization so far. She knows how difficult the relationship between John and Greg is. She sees both sides but can't really take either one.
I'm off to read more. Looking forward to finding out how everything plays out. Thanks!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-14 11:01 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-15 09:58 pm (UTC)Then onward to part two...
(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-16 01:53 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-20 05:38 am (UTC)The way he shapes the mood so easily and well makes one wonder about Wilson's own family - that kind of talent is usually gained by experience, I've found.
"Greg gave her a quick hug. “Just don’t give them my name,” he said. “You might not get the reception you were hoping for.” " BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! So true!!!
"“I’ve always assumed someone taught him manners, but he just ignores them,” Dr. Wilson said. " Heh. There is always that! :p
Wonderful beginning!
Onward,
Katrina