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He realized he'd been putting this off for a while, perhaps because it wasn't a conversation he wanted to have. He still wasn't sure it was a good idea, going to Cameron, but the other options didn't seem any better. He'd rather go to a doctor from his own world, because he knew them better; this was complicated only by the fact that he didn't want House to know about this. Somehow, he'd decided that he considered Cameron the most trustworthy in that regard. Admittedly, he was sure she cared about House more than she'd admit to, but he knew that she understood the value of keeping things from House as well as anyone.

Mostly, he didn't doubt that House could convince Chase to tell him anything with the right incentive. And Cuddy, well, if she hadn't left, Wilson was half-afraid that she'd decide to go tell House in some well-intentioned but misguided effort to show that he cared, an attempt to facilitate communication between them.

He was fine with making that kind of misguided effort himself, but he wasn't comfortable with the idea of having someone else compromise what little privacy he had left from House (which, with their living situation here, didn't amount to much) to set one of their own into motion. It was better to leave such things to those experienced in these battlefields.

He'd come to this conclusion some time ago, shortly after his return; he'd even mentioned it to her, albeit vaguely, and just hadn't acted on it. But the bottle he'd had with him was nearly empty... he didn't have any more time to put it off. He didn't plan to stay on them for long, but he wasn't prepared to go cold turkey, either. So he waited for an opportune moment to come up, and here it seemed to be; Cameron was alone in the clinic office, and not another soul - especially those belonging to House or Chase - was in sight. He stepped in quietly, lingering by the doorway.

"Cameron? Do you have a moment?"

Edited 2009-09-26 01:57 (UTC)

Staying late had become a bad habit of hers, though lately she'd found more and better places to be than the clinic. Still paperwork beckoned, and Cameron was intent upon being thorough, even if no one else in this ridiculous place cared to keep their notes in order. Least of all House, but that was nothing new.

She glanced up as Wilson spoke, pen poised in one hand. Between one thing and another-- curses and their aftermath, more secrets to keep-- she'd entirely forgotten their earlier conversation, that he'd needed to speak with her. Cameron smiled in spite of a faint pang of guilt at her own self-absorption.

"Of course." Shutting the file, setting the pen aside, she stood, one hand resting on the piled papers as she rounded the desk. "What's up?"

"Well..."

This was an unusual situation to find himself in. Usually he was the doctor on the other end of this sort of request, and the requests of this nature that he'd fielded had hardly been phrased in a manner he'd have chosen. Not entirely sure of how to proceed, he hesitated in getting to the actual question.

"I'm afraid I need to ask a favor."

"With one of your patients, or...?"

She trails off, leaving it to him to pick up the thread of conversation. It seems doubtful, given his hesitance, that it's anything as simple as a consult. Which leaves... something about House? With Cuddy gone, he could be expecting her to pick up the slack in scheming; then again, by know she'd expect Wilson to know better.

"Not exactly."

He glances off to a side, then looks back at Cameron. Might as well get it over with.

"I need a prescription, and... I would really prefer House not know about it."

Edited 2009-09-26 18:08 (UTC)

That triggers her concern.

"A prescription for what?"

Is Wilson sick? If Wilson's sick, sick enough that it has to be a secret, it shouldn't be a secret.

Edited 2009-09-26 18:16 (UTC)

He can't help but notice the concern in her expression and tone. Knowing Cameron, she probably thinks he's dying now.

"It's not-- I'm not really sick, it's just..."

Better to show than to explain. From a pocket, he produces a standard prescription bottle, its contents spent save for two pills rattling at the bottom. The label identifies both the antidepressant and the patient quite clearly. He sighs as he holds it out in his hand.

"I had them with me when I got here."

Well, can you blame her for the misunderstanding? She takes the bottle from him and looks at it a moment, before flicking a guarded glance back at his face. In some ways this is no less worrisome, and she shifts, slightly uncomfortable, as she hands it back to him.

"...Do you want to talk about this?"

Meaning, I won't write your scrip unless we talk about this. Arms folded, she is determined and concerned. It's just how she rolls.

He meets the glance for a moment, before he looks down with a shrug, pocketing the bottle again. He heaves a slow breath as he purses his lips and looks back up.

"Well, there's... not a lot to say about it. They're supposed to be a temporary fix, things have just been... less than ideal."

He means back home, but, of course, he realizes that the way things are going in the City at the moment doesn't exactly make it any better.

Here, it was a wonder everyone wasn't on antidepressants. She nodded slowly-- after all, everyone needs help now and then, and there was certainly no shame in admitting it. Though she's still worried.

"I understand. Have you--" She pauses, not quite sure how to ask without overstepping her boundaries, because as much as she's in the position of authority here, doctor to patient, and as much as she considers him both a friend and a colleague-- she's not used to it. "Are you seeing somebody about it, here?" Not that she doesn't trust him, but a temporary fix is supposed to be accompanied by a long-term strategy. And though she might dabble, Cameron knows she's no psychiatrist.

That gets a small shake of his head in response, "Not here..."

He looks down and sighs, pursing and unpursing his lips again as he runs a hand through his hair. "We seem to have a serious shortage in the psychiatric field here. Can't help but think that's deliberate."

He can guess why she's asking. He's, ironically, found himself on the other side of this issue before, and still beats himself up now and again for not having been able to have done much.

"I've already decided that I'm not staying on them, so I don't need a full prescription. Just... enough that I can gradually lower the dosage."

She laughs softly at that. "It would be in keeping with everything else the Deities do," Cameron concurs. Keeping the population off-balance seems to be the aim of everything that happens here.

Under other circumstances she'd be disinclined to go along with this-- but he's right, there aren't many options, here. Considering it for a moment, she decides and turns back to her desk to grab her prescription pad.

"If you do need to talk about it..." She glances up at him, then back at her page, a little wary of broaching the issue on her mind-- "Your patient, or anything-- I'm here, all right?" She finishes and tears the page off, handing it to him with an earnest look.

Nodding, he gives a small, appreciative smile as he takes the scrip, "Of course. Thank you."

Sighing with relief that the entire thing is over and dealt with, he slips the paper into a pocket on his coat. He hesitates only a moment before glancing up at Cameron again.

"You know--" his lips are pursed, and then released, his brow slightly knitted, "This is sort of an awkward position to be saying this in, but the same goes for you, too. If there's anything you ever just want to talk or vent about, I'm here. I know this place isn't easy on any of us."

Subtlety isn't his strong suit; he's talking about Chase. About the never-ending disaster that is their currently nonexistent relationship.

"I know." She smiles, answering softly, trying to seem grateful for the opportunity, though she doesn't intend to take it. This isn't something she wants to discuss, ever, with anyone. But it's nice of him to offer, and certainly it's likely to make him feel a little better-- a little more in control of the situation.

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