Differential Diagnosis People: When It Really Mattered
Next up for the Hall of Fame discussion, something of a different flavor. As always, read (or re-read) discuss here, if you want, and prepare for a vote.
Title and link: When It Really Mattered
Author: karaokegal
Nominated by: leiascully
Summary: Infarctionfic. It wasn't supposed to happen this way at all.
Why does this fic belong in the Hall of Fame? Because with all the smut and angst out there in House ficdom, we'd do well to have some representatives in the HOF, and this is one of the better-crafted pieces. It's also a good fill-in-the-blank answering one of the more pressing questions: where was Wilson during the infarction, if they're so close?
Excerpt:
Stacy’s voice was rising in volume and pitch, drawing attention.
Wilson felt like everyone was staring at them, straining to hear what
she was saying and what his response would be.
“I love him.
I’m his medical proxy and that gives me the right to make this
decision, so if you know something, if you think someone loves him or
cares about him more than I do, this would be the time to tell me. Do
you have anything to tell me, James?”
She was yelling, begging
him for the answer, as if she wanted someone to take the weight of
responsibility off her shoulders. It would have been easy to say “I
love him!” and tell her everything. He’d break her heart, but he’d stop
the surgery.
Title and link: When It Really Mattered
Author: karaokegal
Nominated by: leiascully
Summary: Infarctionfic. It wasn't supposed to happen this way at all.
Why does this fic belong in the Hall of Fame? Because with all the smut and angst out there in House ficdom, we'd do well to have some representatives in the HOF, and this is one of the better-crafted pieces. It's also a good fill-in-the-blank answering one of the more pressing questions: where was Wilson during the infarction, if they're so close?
Excerpt:
Stacy’s voice was rising in volume and pitch, drawing attention.
Wilson felt like everyone was staring at them, straining to hear what
she was saying and what his response would be.
“I love him.
I’m his medical proxy and that gives me the right to make this
decision, so if you know something, if you think someone loves him or
cares about him more than I do, this would be the time to tell me. Do
you have anything to tell me, James?”
She was yelling, begging
him for the answer, as if she wanted someone to take the weight of
responsibility off her shoulders. It would have been easy to say “I
love him!” and tell her everything. He’d break her heart, but he’d stop
the surgery.