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Wilson learns to sail when he's still just skinny Jamie with a sun burnt nose. By the time he's fifteen, he goes by himself for hours on end. His dark hair lightens from the long hours spent outside and his hands develop brown finger tips and pale backs from wearing fingerless gloves. He leans back over the cold water, hearing the wind rushing through his ears. The boat heels, tilting over until he's sure it's going to flip. Ease the rudder and let it round up with the wind then bring it back. The spray flecks his face. The rail cuts through the water briefly as the wind overpowers him. Correction and he's back running fast with the wind snatching his breath away. The boom whistles over his head and the foresail snaps across as he tacks. The wind builds as the storm rolls toward shore and he races the clouds back to the marina.
In the winter he spends his time studying and trying to recapture the high he rode all summer.
The next summer he crews on a thirty foot Santana. They come screaming across the finish line and he's grinning at the rush. The racing yacht tilts thirty degrees from zero and water rushes over the side onto the benches. He looks down as he's playing with the jib sheet to see only cold green water speckled with white foam rushing under his feet. The boat bucks as the waves rise high and water slices across the bow. The wind moans through the shrouds and the sheets groan in the cleats. He lets his body sway with the rhythm as the yacht surfs over the crest of the wave then smacks into the trough making their bodies bounce against each other. Jamie stays high all summer and it's better than he remembers.
He stays on the crew until he graduates and moves to McGill. For the next eight years he studies and works. He has girlfriends. He has sex. Sometimes it's almost enough to bring back the heady feeling of summers past. He doesn't have time to chase the real rush until he comes home for a visit in the summer and takes out a little Laser. He spends most of his vacation on the water letting the wind steal his breath as he rides the high. After that he vows to get back at least once a year.
Sex is still good, still enough for a quick hit — but he finds it too complicated and too time consuming while he focuses on getting through med school, then getting through his residency. Somewhere along the line he gets married. He spends the first couple months blissed out, but soon it's not enough. Meredith's body holds no secrets for him to discover; it gives him no rush now that he knows exactly what she wants.
"Are you bored Jamie?" she asks and he takes her to bed, reassuring her with his body while his mind is still mainly focused on the little seven year old with leukemia. His orgasm brings a rush that lasts until he falls asleep. In the morning it's gone and he's coasting again.
The first time he cheats the rush is incredible. There is nothing in sailing that can compare to watching a woman's face during orgasm. Driving their bodies on to highs that they didn't think were possible. He watches their faces flush and twist as he keeps manipulating them. Sex still brings with it too much time commitment – even when it's just a one night stand – so he starts refining his break up techniques. He does this just like everything else, diligent and methodical until he's got it down to an art. Meredith confronts him about it just after he's cheated with an accountant who likes to play with fruit. Wilson discovers that this side of cheating pulls him down, gives him a low that he can barely climb out of. They divorce with a minimum of fuss. In the meantime he takes up high diving which gives him a different sort of rush. It's safer than cheating but it still can't compare to sailing.
His middle brother – the family screw up – reappears in his life for the first time since he figured out why his brother wasn't normal, wasn't in university, wasn't holding down a job. Martin brings little bags of pills and powders with him. Wilson is a doctor and he knows all the signs of intoxication, of drug use, and of mental disorder. Even as he mentally checks off the boxes, he's taking just one pill with Martin. It's the first time he's ever tried to find his rush in a chemical. After it has worn off, and he's feeling mostly clean, his hands are still shaking at just how easy it would be for him to slip into the life Martin has chosen. His brother is still in a stupor when Wilson climbs into the shower, letting the hot water turn his skin pink, as he tries to fight the urge to vomit. He spends the rest of the day watching his brother come down and wishing he was on the water. The pills, so small and innocent, are on his coffee table. It wouldn't hurt to just take half a one, just to climb up a little bit. It's so easy to toss it back and wait for it to do its work. Martin gives him a wide-eyed smile that stretches his lips back from yellow teeth and makes his long beard sway.
"Want me to get some of these?" Martin wiggles the bag of pills in his face.
"I . . . No. I don't want those."
He retreats to his bedroom sickened by how much he was considering saying yes. He knows he'd take one at work one day and that would be the end. He vomits into the trashcan thinking of his mother's disappointed face.
He vows never to take anything to get a rush and kicks Martin out of his house with enough cash to assuage his guilt from pushing his brother out into the street. Later that day, he takes his car and drives until he gets back to the old familiar marina. He sails into the twilight and stays out all night, letting his fingers grow numb with cold. He calls in sick the next day. He lets the wind steal his breath and bring tears to his eyes as he squints into the sun. His hands are cramped claws, almost too tender to rest on the steering wheel as he drives back that night. He rides the rush for almost a week and resolutely ignores any thought of Martin.
By the time he's working at Princeton-Plainsboro high diving isn't giving him enough of a rush anymore. It's over, he knows what to expect and the pleasure has been replaced by a dull acceptance — unlike sailing nothing sneaks up on him at the pool. He knows he needs to start looking for another rush the day that he stares into the still water of the pool and feels nothing. He throws his body off, feet pushing hard enough against the cold concrete to leave scrapes on the underside of his toes. He starts looking.
When he meets Gregory House, Wilson calls him Greg until House reprimands him that Greg is a dog's name. House irritates him with his lack of compassion; however, after telling three heavy smokers they are going to die of lung cancer, he finds that his compassion is wearing thin when all three refuse to even cut back on their smoking.
He's just finishing up notes in the last file when House barges in, throwing the door wide.
"Jimmy, finished with the cueballs?"
He wanders around his office picking things up without reason. Wilson finds that he doesn't mind being called Jimmy, not by House who makes it feel teasing and maybe, if he listens carefully, a little affectionate. Jimmy isn't boring like Wilson and Jamie has been gone since the first divorce.
At lunch, House steals his chips and tells stories about stupid patients to cheer him up (because House notices everything). Their verbal fencing matches are ceaseless and he always feels high after a skirmish with House. House is flash-fast and as likely to change direction as the wind. For the first time, Wilson has found another thing that can leave him truly breathless.
House is an addict. Wilson knows before House will admit it even to himself. He can tell House loves the rush of endorphins that flood his brain once he's solved a case. Wilson starts picking out difficult cases for House just to see his eyes light and hear his breath catch as he has his eureka moment. House torments him about his sex life and steals his food. It's a comforting constant in his life and he seeks House out whenever he needs a little boost to finish his day. Wilson sails as close to the wind as he dares, just waiting for the gust to knock him down. In the summers he slips off to his parents' place and onto the water. His wife and girlfriends never sail, for that he's grateful. The presence of another person would have ruined his rush. He shudders to think what it would be like if they'd actually gone with him.
Wilson gets a new poster for his office after reading that inspirational sayings can help patients cope. It seems like a good idea until House stares at it and starts to make retching noises.
"Oh Doctor, can I think my cancer away?" His voice is breathy and coy.
"A positive outlook is important."
Wilson straightens a folder on his desk and refuses to look at the glass of water in the poster.
"Nobody likes those."
"That's not the point."
"We have indoor plumbing you can fill it up again."
"Again, not the point."
House's pager interrupts them and he swears. "Fish boy can't feel his arms now. Should I take him a glass and say have a positive outlook?"
Wilson sighs and wonders if he should replace the poster with a nice inoffensive nature print although he's sure House would have some objection to that too.
House is almost out the door before he exclaims, "If he learns to eat with his feet, then we can put him on your wall Jimmy."
The next day the poster is gone when he gets to work. In its place is one for Hitchcock's Vertigo. It looks better behind the desk anyway. At lunch he makes sure to pick up dessert just so House can steal it.
Bonnie, the real estate agent, becomes his second wife. She's a driven petite brunette who hides her brown eyes with blues contacts and is afraid to offend. After four dates he has privately named her Onion. In bed, he slowly peels the layers back, forcing her to give in, let go, and stop worrying. He asks her to marry him without any concern that she'll turn him down, there's no way that she would with her fear of being alone. House hints that he really should have Stacy draw up a pre-nup but he laughs at that. They'll be together for along time, those are for people expecting to divorce.
"Right, you're in love. How could I forget?" House says as steals the cucumbers from his salad.
At the wedding banquet, House hands Wilson his glass and leers at Bonnie.
"Let me steal you away before Wilson corrupts you."
Wilson grins as House leads his new wife onto the dance floor. She looks almost doll-like next to House, breakable and fragile. Her eyes are still hidden by contacts. House is a good dancer but he knows that leaving Bonnie alone with him for too long isn't advisable, not when she's not fond of him anyway. He catches Stacy's eyes and they retrieve their respective partners. He likes to watch House and Stacy dance and tries very hard not stare at them. It's his wedding after all and the groom should be besotted with his bride. Later, unwrapping their wedding presents, he knows that box with karma sutra wrapping paper is from House. Inside is a cut crystal dessert bowl (Stacy's influence, it matches the set of wine glasses from Cuddy) filled to the brim with condoms. Hidden in the condoms he finds two neon purple vibrators and a poisonous green dildo. A spice container labeled cinnamon has paper rolled in it. It's from House's prescription pad. The scrawled note reads: Variety is the spice of life. Bonnie is not amused when he starts to chuckle so he tucks the note into his pocket and forces his laughter down.
"That's so crude."
"It's House."
"James, that's no excuse."
He hadn't actual thought of it as an excuse. Maybe House needs to be excused when he calls a dyspeptic patient with vision problems an idiot for forgetting to tell him about taking Viagra (even though Wilson sort of agrees with House on that one) but House doesn't need to be excused for the gift. That sets him off again and the unwrapping does not smooth out until they get to a silver berry spoon.
The same week that Bonnie stops hiding her brown eyes (he always tells her they are the colour of taffy and she finally believes him) they have their first fight that ends with him sleeping on the couch. The topic is just like the one from his last marriage – too much time at work, except now there's the added twist of too much time with his vulgar friend. He watches the other yachts rounding the windward mark and popping their spinnakers while he knows that he's not going to make it.
The last straw comes when he spends the weekend with House when Stacy is out of town defending a client. They were supposed to go to supper with Bonnie's friends but he begs off. Listening to House playing his piano while they drink scotch is better than salmon at the latest trendy restaurant. Four days later Bonnie files for divorce and he agrees without complaint. He's failed again. He never thought he'd feel worse than after his first divorce but by Friday he has surpassed that level of misery. As accomplishments go it sucks. House tells him that they are going to dinner. He doesn't want to but Stacy is at a conference and House is bored. At the restaurant House says nothing when he skips straight to hard liquor. By dessert he's passed pleasantly buzzed and is working towards blank. House helps him weave his way out of the restaurant and pushes him into the car. He spends the night on the familiar couch while House plays blues. In the morning there is aspirin and water on the coffee table. House is quiet until the afternoon when he takes Wilson to a park. They sit watching ducks on the pond. House makes bread tossing into a game and Wilson looses by two hundred points. Afterwards House points out obscene shapes in the clouds.
Cheating gets him high for awhile, but it's over too soon and the consequences are too much. Wilson reaches this decision a month after his second divorce; Stacy's out of town again, and House agreed to take him out to the new blues bar if— and only if — he promised not to annoy him by mooning over Bonnie. He agrees, and the waitress gives them a strange look when House orders for both.
"Don't worry about it," House says and flays the latest admin and his stupid lying patients.
Later, back at House's apartment when they are both far too drunk, he feels like the world is spinning around him. He makes popcorn because House says so and it seems like a good idea. Wilson spends the rest of the evening trying to toss the fluffy white kernels into House's mouth.
He meets Sandra a week later. Sandra is cheating on her boyfriend. She says he doesn't pay attention to her. Wilson loves the rush of almost being discovered when they have sex at Sandra's place. He can smell her boyfriend's cologne – the same one as House uses even though they're separated by almost two decades. They use the boyfriend's condoms. As he thrusts into Sandra he keeps one ear tuned to the sound of footsteps and a key in the lock. The faceless boyfriend could just as well be standing by the bed watching them. When he comes he sees blue eyes. Sandra's body is new and still unconquered. He has so many things to show her, to watch her discover. He tells House all about her, anticipating House's coming jabs except they don't come when he expects them. He loves the unpredictability that it brings to life, no matter if House gives him one especially embarrassing warning about safe sex by shouting after him in the clinic "Don't be a fool, wrap your tool Jimmy."
House steals his breath away and life is good. He's over Bonnie and he has Sandra as his newest girlfriend. House calls her his flavor of the month. Strawberry this time Jimmy? Sandra leaves her boyfriend and moves in with him. The next month is full of highs stacked onto highs: he has Sandra's body to discover; her kinks to unearth, and House's never ending stream of sarcasm and pranks. A warm south wind fills his sails, so he lets the genoa loosen off and lazily adjusts the tiller instead of constantly playing the sheet. His life is excellent and he begins to think about remarrying. Even delivering pronouncements of death isn't as bad when he is riding a rush. Slowly he's closing the distance with the forerunners; catching up to them as he trims the spinnaker guy just a touch to pick up speed.
Then life falls apart. Three long term patients, patients he knows he's too emotionally attached to, die in a week and he gets six short term terminal kids and another two with limb amputations. By Thursday, not even House is enough to break the jam in the traveler and let him spill the pressure from his sails. He's desperate for a fix and knows that pretty blonde Emily, the new peds nurse, is having a tough time. It's a simple matter to take her to lunch, lend a sympathetic shoulder, and take her out to a hotel. In a beige room in a bed made with thin sheets he gets to watch her face as she forgets about dead babies as pleasure, the pleasure he gives her, overwhelms her worries. He listens to her moaning 'James' as his tongue flicks her clit. She says it differently than Sandra. It's brief respite and he's crashing again by the time his shift is done. Sandra kisses him when he gets home but she's got a party (doesn't he remember?) so she doesn't have time to do anything.
"Don't wait up" she says.
The next day starts off bad and gets worse. He can see the cirrocumulus clouds filling the sky as House yells at him.
"You can't keep little Jimmy from playing now and you want to marry your girlfriend?"
House manages to make girlfriend sound like the gravest of insults. He pivots and paces back across the room.
"I needed . . . She needed…" He sighs and rubs the back of his neck where the muscles are knotted with tension. He can't explain it to House, can't explain it to anyone really.
"It's no wonder you're divorced."
"One of the babies died. She needed somebody."
"And you were just helping her out. Did your last wife buy that – kindly Dr. Wilson bear of the comfort fuck."
"She's a good nurse and she needed comfort. Normal people need that House."
"Normal people." House's voice is flat and unfriendly.
"What?"
"You said you were going to ask her to marry you."
"I'm still going to ask her."
"You're an idiot. Everything's going to be roses after the ring?" House is rubbing his leg again, his lips pulled back from his teeth in a grimace.
"It's a pulled muscle, stop pacing and rest it. I've got a patient."
"You're still an idiot."
"Just go. Rest the leg, it'll start getting better soon, you know it. You can berate me at lunch."
He's just finishing his lunch and wondering why House isn't about to swipe bits of it when he hears two nurses talking about House.
"He was screaming, and then he grabbed a syringe full of morphine."
"Classic addict. Wonder how long before he's fired."
He'll have to be late for the next patient. It sounds like House has finally jumped and he wants to catch him. He finds House in his office, eyes closed and head thrown back with his headphones blaring something that sounds suspiciously like opera into his ears.
"Jimmy."
House smiles delightedly, apparently their earlier argument is forgiven. The headphones are tossed on the desk and the music really is opera with electric guitars.
"What did you do?"
"I was in pain. I got a painkiller."
House starts pacing, making the tiny circuit between the walls almost close enough he could reach out and grab him.
"It's a muscle sprain. House, what were you thinking? It's a sprain, sprains don't need morphine."
"It's not a fucking sprain."
House storms out slamming the door behind him before Wilson can anything. He doesn't see House for the rest of the day.
Sandra is waiting for him when he gets home and he's looking forward to fucking her. He needs something to take the edge off, needs to stop his worries about House because he can't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, House is right and it's something worse than a sprain. Sandra isn't in a good mood. She could smell Emily's perfume on his shirt; did he think she was stupid? They were committed, weren't they? Why was he with another woman? He tries to sooth and cajole but it doesn't work. He tries to kiss her and she slaps him across the face. It's an ugly fight and at last she throws up her hands in defeat, saying she just can't deal with him. His face is still throbbing as the taillights of her car disappear into the night. He eats alone and waits for House to phone because that's what House should do. Then he'll go to House's and they'll have pizza and watch bad movies while Stacy works in the other room. The first call comes a few hours later and he tries not to feel disappointed when it's only Sandra telling him where she is. He says he's going to come, make things right and he's sorry. She'll be waiting for him she says. He can tell by her voice that she's already forgiving him a little bit. He's anticipating the high that will come with their reconciliation and the sex he's planning to end the night with by the time he gets to his car.
His cell rings as he's pulling into the traffic. It's Stacy. She is crying that Greg is killing himself for pride and he's in the hospital as a patient. Wilson's fingers are cold on the wheel as he assures her that he'll be right there. A gust catches his spinnaker smashing him down; up ahead he can see the other yachts getting knocked down. Wilson makes it to the hospital in record time, not caring about the speed limits. The speed of the car is intoxicating and for a single moment he wants to continue past and into the night, just him and the rumbling engine. He pulls a tire screeching turn into the parking lot shaken that he almost missed it. Stacy and Cuddy are both there, and Stacy is so close to complete incoherence that he ignores her in favour of getting the story from Cuddy. The shock makes him rock back against the wall. He knows House is going to hate it, maybe even more than if they'd taken the whole leg, but he's selfishly glad that House isn't going to die because of some notion of his body taking care of the toxins. Cumulonimbus clouds are roiling overhead, dark and forbidding, as the first drops of rain hit. He's rounding the mark eyes squinted against the rain, when the yacht slides from behind his foresail.
He just has time to scream, "Starboard!"
He feels the jolt of their hulls smashing together. The impact snaps his teeth together as he frantically pulls the tiller towards him, letting the wind spin the boat but it's not over yet. He watches in horror as a wave pushes the other hull onto his railing then it slips toward the stern, taking the safety line with it as it crashes back into the water. Finally they're separated by enough distance that he can check the damage. He leans over the side and sees the gash ripped into his hull. The pump starts to rumble as he begins heading toward the marina hoping to make it without completely sinking.
It's only as he waits for House to come out of surgery that he remembers he was supposed to meet Sandra. It seems too late to bother calling her so he gets coffee instead and goes back to sit with Stacy. Later he'll leave a message that House is ill and needs him. He'll call when he knows she's busy and leave it on her voice mail because he doesn't have time to talk to her. Not now when House is still not fully conscious. She'll forgive him like always but he'll never forgive himself if he's not there when House returns to them.
House curses them all. He's not passive in his acceptance instead he rages at them. Stacy is no longer anything but a leg-stealing bitch and Cuddy her manipulative accomplice. Wilson is wholly incompetent – a fucking muscle strain? Isn't he a doctor? That House is right, everyone should have caught it sooner, makes him feel all the worse that it was House, almost out of his mind with pain, who figured it out. He's constantly cold sitting by House's bedside even though it's high summer. One ear is tuned to the pump and the other to the sound of the hull in the slate grey water as he babies the yacht back to shore. It's a long way and the wind is whipping spray into his hair and tugging at the sails lashed down to the boom.
Little by little House starts to get better. It's so subtle that at first even he misses it, but slowly House is angrier and less despairing. He tries to explain it to Stacy, who is barely managing, but she can't see it. Wilson begins to know the days by Stacy. A good day is when she manages to leave the room before she starts crying; a bad day she doesn't make it past the foot of the bed. They are all pale and drawn, spending too much time worried about House. Stacy leaves before House is even discharged. She smiles through her tears and say it's not forever, just a week, just a little break. Wilson watches as House plummets back into angry despair. He won't eat, won't talk, merely exists. There is calm now that his flow of words as stopped but the sizzling tension is still there and Wilson can still smell the ozone from the lightening strikes. Cuddy threatens a feeding tube which makes House eat again, but he won't live. She's not coming back he tells Wilson just after the morphine has been kicked up a notch to try and stem the pain. She will he says to House and bargains with fate to make it so.
Wilson is suddenly terrified that House is going to will his body to die when he sees House sleeping in the middle of the day, right when General Hospital should be on. Cuddy tries psychiatrists but they can't seem to make any difference. At night he comes home to Sandra and they make love, their previous arguments forgotten. He needs to feel closeness, a real living breathing connection to somebody who isn't dying and in pain. He can never find his high except when he goes for long drives into the night, slipping away after Sandra is asleep, to lose himself in speed and the sound of the wind rushing past his open window. His high never lasts the day and he no longer has House for a quick hit.
He hasn't set foot on a boat in more than a year. At night when he finally sleeps he dreams of sailing under the hot sun. There's somebody on the boat but he can't find them. Every dream he searches for them until the storm breaks and he sees a yellow rain slicker get washed overboard. Sandra doesn't know about the dreams and he can't make himself tell her.
He dreams at night, works sporadically in the day and when he's not working he's with House. Sandra takes her things and leaves but he can't muster the energy to notice. The dreams continue, he never sleeps through the night, and he starts to thinking about sleeping pills. He catches short naps in his office and takes lunch into House's room. Stacy comes back after a week, bringing House a complicated puzzle made out of metal, wood, and string. Wilson hears her tell House that she loves him. The wind chases the clouds away, until only a few remnants linger. The dock is in site, the boat riding low in the water but not foundering. He is grateful to Stacy when House starts to take an interest in life again, grateful that House is watching General Hospital and snapping at them all. He doesn't notice the little wisps of cirrostratus clouds that are sneaking over the horizon, the sunlight turning them pink and green as it beats down on the boat skimming over the water. Wilson gets his first high since the week of the infarction. He thinks things might soon be getting back to normal. That night he finds a girl with red hair in a bar and takes her back to his place. He gets his rush looking into blues eyes that aren't dulled with opiates. She spends the night and in the morning he fucks her again just to have a rush for work. They don't exchange numbers. House teases him.
It's not until the altostratus clouds are blocking the sun that he realizes everything is going down hill fast. Wilson has been busy with his patients and his one night stands, but the day House throws his crutches towards Stacy – he can't stand to think of House throwing them at Stacy – Wilson realizes that things haven't been so good now that House has been discharged. Stacy's brave front is broken when House asks if she has other parts to prune from him. Cold rain drizzles down from the grey sky, shrouding the world in a fog. The wind dies and the fog is a thick impenetrable grey wrapped silence. Stacy leaves for good this time and House won't eat.
"I told you she couldn't stand a cripple." He sneers.
Wilson doesn't know what to do. He installs more grab bars in the apartment and begins cooking full meals for House even though there are leftovers still in the fridge. Two homecare nurses quit and the third recommends psych care. He's helpless to do anything for his friend. House's despair feeds his own and he desperately wants a rush to bring himself back up to normal. He takes time off from work and spends his days with House, watching him listlessly flick through channels and pop pills. He's becalmed and desperately searching for the tell tale ripples to signal the coming wind.
When House starts stealing his food he sees a ripple. Slowly, House is climbing from his Stacy-induced depression. Wilson is the one who battles House over physio and he wins but it's a hollow victory when House refuses to go back. A similar gust catches him with the psychiatrist who wanted to talk about feelings and self-image. Wilson kicks himself because he should have known what would happen, should have seen the darkening water and the white crest of the building wave under the gust. All he can do is trim his sails and weather it. He tries to find another high but he can't. By the time House is managing on his own with a cane instead of the much despised crutches, he's desperate for even the littlest high.
He drives too fast and sends his car into turns that force his body sideways. The rush hits him fast but never lasts. He goes back to sex for the rush that lasts him a few hours. He has one night-flings and spends his days between the office and House's apartment, still cluttered with reminders of Stacy and House's sports. Every time he relaxes thinking the storm has past, he catches the telltale darkening in the water and braces for the next gust. His only rush comes from sex. He's never gone through condoms so fast or seen blue eyes floating in his vision so often. At night he dreams of capsized yachts, their keels sticking up like tomb stones.