A/N: Hey guys... Just a short two-shot, I promised someone I'd write. Nothing profound; just some good old HW-friendship... :) The second part will be posted in a couple of days. Hope you enjoy!
"First of all: He's okay…"
Wilson didn't even have to ask who she was talking about. He wearily rubbed his eyes with one hand, the other still holding his cell phone against his ear. "Something tells me I don't wanna hear the rest of it…"
Cuddy couldn't help but smile slightly at the seemingly resigned response. She didn't even want to know how often the oncologist had gotten calls similar to this one...
"There was an accident…" She could hear Wilson groan softly at the other end of the line. "But for once: He wasn't speeding. It wasn't his fault."
The oncologist suddenly inhaled sharply. "He was in a motorcycle accident?!" All weariness gone. His voice reflected pure concern; and a trace of panic. "How bad…?!"
She replied without hesitation. "Could have been a lot worse. – Concussion; broken left wrist; two broken ribs. His entire right side is pretty banged up…"
A moment of silence. Then, much more loudly than before: "And you call that 'okay'?! – What about the leg?!" He sounded tense.
Cuddy decided to simply ignore the accusation in the first of the two sentences, instead explaining calmly: "The hip's contused; the knee probably sprained. – The thigh itself doesn't seem to have taken any further damage..."
Another moment of silence. Cuddy thought she heard a chair scraping across the floor; Wilson was probably sitting down.
"What about internal injuries…"
She couldn't help but roll her eyes at the question. "We're all doctors here, James. – We've checked everything. He's looking good so far…"
"Pain…?" Wilson finally asked quietly.
Cuddy concentrated on sounding reassuring, keeping her voice firm. "Under control. His attendings were immediately informed about everything they needed to know; including his usual dosage. - They're IV-medicating him at the moment. He's not in much pain..."
But Wilson wasn't pacified that easily. "What do they have him on? - It's been worse lately…"
She gently interrupted him. "Wilson. They're getting his pain-ratings every two hours. He's okay… – And before you even think about it: You're going to stay where you are. Until the conference is over."
She thought she heard him snort at the other end of the line.
"No way. – With his luck, he'll throw a clot or... suddenly bleed to death or something, without me being there again. – I'm coming."
Cuddy rolled her eyes again at that. "He'll do nothing like that! He's fine. He didn't even want me to tell you!" She finally added much more gently: "Listen, James. There's honestly no need for you to come. I just thought you'd want to know, that's all…"
A short moment of silence; Wilson seemed to be thinking. Then, determinedly: "I'm coming."
"That's ridiculous! What do you even think you can do for him here…?! – Dr. Wilson; I expect you to stay in Chicago until your meeting is over. Do you understand? I want you to stay exactly where you are and let us deal with House here…"
Wilson responded with something that resembled a pained half-laugh. "Yeah, well… To cite a good friend of mine citing one of those great philosophers… 'You can't always get what you want'.- I'll see you in a couple of hours…"