[personal profile] ilia
Title: 3 Ways James Wilson and Hiro Nakamura Never Met
Author: Lady Yueh
Fandom: House M.D./Heroes
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not my property and no infringement is intended.
Character(s): Wilson. Hiri. House
Date: December 28
Author’s Notes: [livejournal.com profile] kerravonsen's prompt for my Advent Calender mutated. I'll probably change some stuff in the future [when I'm not sleep deprived] and the number might get bumped up.
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#1
***

James Wilson was not having a good day.

Being an oncologist meant that he had a lot of bad days.

The fact that he was divorced, homeless and socially removed just made the probability of good days wither up.

Which was why he was in a bar. Clichéd but effective.

“Escuse me? Are you Doctor? Doctor James Wirson?”

“Yes,” his mouth answered before his alcohol, dulled brain could engage. His brain called him a fool in explicit and inventive ways. Had House’s various run-ins with disgruntled patients taught him nothing? Too late now, he supposed.

He scrutinized his stalker. Asian, by the accent and features. Short, pudgy and more than a little bit geeky. He was smiling in a distinctly child-like manner. In fact, his whole body seemed to radiate an energetic excitement so that it was difficult to place his age.

Wilson relaxed.

He was--despite what House, the amazing human polygraph, would claim--a fairly good judge of character.

“Herro! I am Na--Hiro Nakamura,” the young man chirped with cheer before executing a shallow bow.

“How can I help you, Mr. Nakamura?”

“I have come to save you!”

That was not reassuring. Rather creepy actually.

House was right.

He was crap at reading people.

********************************
#2
***

“Hello,” he greeted the lost looking child with a kind smile. “Are you lost?”

The boy let loose with a fast-paced string of syllables that were definitely not English.

Great.

“I’m sorry. I don’t speak…is that Japanese?” The child stopped speaking, nodded, and blinked up at him expectantly. Crap.

Someone other than the boy spoke up in rapid-fire Japanese.

Thank god.

The kid brightened and answered.

Wilson turned to stare at his savior and instead of finding a relative of the boy’s he found a tall, blue eyed man in a lab coat.

“You speak Japanese?” was the only thing he could say.

The man’s faced screamed ‘Duh!’

“Kid’s family is Nakamura. His Mom’s here for tests in your department. He’s looking for--” The guy paused and instead of continuing to translate the kid’s sentences started speaking to the Nakamura boy again.

“He’ll follow you until you find the parental units.”

“Thanks!” he called out after the quickly retreated doctor only to receive no acknowledgement.

He looked down at the kid--whose expression must have mirrored his own for bewilderment--shrugged, took his hand, and headed to the department head’s office.

********************************
#3
***

House looked up as a furiously thinking Wilson came through his apartment door.

“Did Cuddy flash you? Are you replaying right now?”

Wilson didn’t respond.

Interesting.

It took quite a conundrum to reduce Wilson to this.

At least, it did after he’d gone through House Training. It was a rigorous and on-going program. If you survived it nothing would shock, surprise, or freak you out. Ever.

“Today,” Wilson spoke up after a long silence. “Was weird,” he ended lamely.

House frowned.

“A guy with a samurai sword came up to me and told me…he said I had a task to save the world.”

House scoffed. “You’re telling me you’re getting this freaked because some crazy comic geek decided to screw with your head?”

Wilson shook his head.

“He said, ‘James Wilson, you have the unenviable task of making sure that Gregory House survives or the world ends.’”

House measured Wilson’s words and actions before deciding that this wasn’t a ruse on his part.

Wilson met his gaze straight on and both reached a single conclusion simultaneously.

“Cuddy?” one suggested.

“Cuddy.” the other confirmed.
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