Having to work on a Sunday might have been something that Wilson complained about, if it wasn't for the fact that his schedule here was always so light. Even when he'd had a heavier schedule back at Princeton-Plainsboro, he couldn't say that working on Sundays was a thing that never happened. He couldn't count the number of times that he'd sacrificed his free time to go into the office and do paperwork or dictations or whatever else needed to be done.

It was part of being a doctor, honestly. Anyone who didn't think that their life was going to get consumed by it was probably delusional.

That being said, Wilson felt he'd done a decent job of keeping his interactions with the patients strictly professional. He could have tried to track down some of them in Doyleton yesterday, for instance, but he'd refrained. The idea of getting too tangled up with a mental patient was something even he wasn't about to get involved with.

Despite having to come in on a Sunday, though, Wilson was only needed after lunch, and so he was working on a full stomach as he entered his office and sat down at his desk. Today he would be seeing two patients: Jude, or Allelujah, the man with the split personality -- and someone new, a Watanabe Yori. Wilson got his files in order and then waited, curious to see who would walk through the doors first.

While Vincent hadn't been the chattiest patient, he also hadn't been completely impossible to deal with, and so Wilson counted his morning session as a decent return to this whole pretending-to-be-a-psychologist thing. Granted, what he really needed was a session that lasted a few hours so that he could start to really get a feel for the people who was supposed to be helping, but that was clearly too much to ask for.

He was going to have a return visit this afternoon, though, so Wilson decided he'd just have to try and make some sort of progress there. Florian Rousseau -- or Brook, as he seemed to prefer -- was one of the more upbeat, excitable patients that Wilson had dealt with here. He didn't know if that was a sign of him being manic or if Brook was just closer to recovery than a lot of the others, but he could get a better idea of that this afternoon.

The one thing that still stuck with Wilson after their first session was that Brook had been put in here because he believed himself to be a skeleton (or rather, that he was only made up of bones), and yet now that delusion seemed to be gone. What was it that was keeping him here? That was what Wilson was hoping to understand.

Either way, he had to admit it would be nice to deal with someone who wasn't going to glare at him sullenly from across the desk like most of his patients did. Hopefully Brook would be in as good of a mood today as he had been the first time they'd talked.

Everything seemed to be in order as Wilson walked into the front doors of Landel's Institute this Thursday morning. He could still barely believe that the entire doctor staff had been allowed such a long break, but apparently that inspection had required that some changes be made around this place. Honestly, Wilson didn't notice much that was different, except that the Head Doctor was apparently having some renovations done on his office.

He couldn't quite kick the feeling that he was forgetting something vital, but in the end he was just relieved that he'd finally gotten a hold of Cuddy over the break. For some reason she still felt that he should be spending his time here. House hadn't connected well with the patients here (which Wilson thought should have been obvious from the start), but Wilson had actually made progress with a few people. Max Vyer, for instance.

Wilson still felt that he would be better equipped dealing with cancer patients, but the pay here was good and all things considered, he didn't have to work that much. If anything, he could see this as a few months in which he could rest up.

Now that he was finally being let back into his office, though, he was determined to keep up what was apparently being viewed as good work. He sat down with the file of his first patient, Vincent Lant. He was supposed to have seen this patient the last time he was here, only to find out that he'd been suddenly discharged. That had apparently been a premature decision, since he'd been re-admitted.

Just a quick glance over the file informed him of the patient's troubled childhood along with his anger and jealousy issues as an adult. He doubted this would be an easy case, but he was just going to have to improvise and do his best.

That talk with Venkman had done a decent job of calming Wilson down, but only to the point that he was able to return to his office feeling bitter but not wound up. While they both agreed that this whole situation was beyond strange, that still didn't give them a way out of it. He wondered what would happen if they both just jumped in a car and started driving. At this point, he was getting close enough to a breaking point to actually try it.

He'd suggest that to the other doctor later, if he could, but he also wondered if it would be a good idea to talk to Dr. Yumeno and Dr. Disraeli as well. If it turned out that all four of them (they were the only ones left, right?) felt the same way, then... maybe they could actually do something.

Granted, Wilson realized that he needed to be careful when it came to what actions he outwardly took when the military had waltzed in, and so he simply returned to his desk for the moment. A nurse was kind enough to inform him that one of his patients, Vincent Lant, had been released, but it seemed likely that Sarah Kingston would make it to her session once she was done with roll call.

"Roll call," he muttered to himself as he grabbed for the girl's file and arranged the papers in a somewhat agitated manner. "What is this, boot camp?"

His patient hadn't shown up.

Whether that was because the poor guy had been gassed or because he'd just decided that he didn't want to deal with it and had ended up sedated as a result was unclear. The nurses were too busy with their own tasks to explain, and so Wilson had been left to stew in his office for the entire shift. He'd considered writing a letter to Landel, but at this point it was starting to seem like the Head Doctor wasn't really the head of things after all.

Wilson would have thought it would be required that any entering doctor was told about the government and military being involved in this operation, but apparently not! And he was just getting fed up with this entire place.

By the time lunch rolled around, Wilson was eager to get out of his office. He needed to talk to someone about this, and even if it was only his fellow doctors who he'd more or less kept a professional distance from before now, that was about to change.

He needed to know if he was the only one who thought this was totally ridiculous.

Unfortunately, when he took the trip upstairs and out onto the patio, he found it empty except for a nurse who was setting things up. Sighing, he moved over to her and asked if any of the doctors would be coming by -- but naturally, she didn't know.

Wilson dragged a hand down his face and then sat at one of the tables. It was cold out, but so long as it wasn't raining, he could handle some chilly weather. It occurred to him that he should probably get some food, but he was too wound up at the moment to bother.

Coming into the hospital only to see it in a state that made it feel more like it was a prison on lockdown was enough to throw Wilson for a loop. While he realized that some of the patients here were dangerous enough to require that sort of behavior, he'd thought that the staff had been handling it pretty well on their own. So why were there a ton of people in military attire hanging around this morning?

It took a lot of work to find a nurse who wasn't distracted and who would actually tell him the truth, but it sounded like they were having some sort of inspection. Maybe Landel's strange methods were finally being called into question, although that still didn't explain why it was the military (which military?) who was dealing with it. It all seemed a bit too extreme for comfort.

Hearing about the riot was enough to leave Wilson a bit disappointed in the patients, but the reaction to it was way more shocking and upsetting. Tear gas? How could this hospital even pretend to be legitimate and well-run at this point?

It was enough to set him on edge, making him wonder why it was that he'd been left in this place -- and more than that, why it seemed like he couldn't contact a single person on the outside. Everyone in Doyleton he could talk to without an issue, but for anyone beyond that small area, it was like they'd perpetually forgotten where their phone was.

Not that the lines were out of service; it was just that no one ever picked up.

Feeling a mix of angry, worried, and a bit paranoid, Wilson was forced to go to his office rather than checking on the patients to see if they'd had any bad reactions to the gas. The stuff was supposed to screw you over for a bit, obviously, but if anyone inhaled too much or was simply not prepared to handle it...

"No," the nurse had said, "we'll take care of it."

And so he was supposed to stay in his office and act like nothing was wrong. Wilson found himself pacing the small space in his room, trying to at least let off some of his excess energy. How could he just stand by while something like this was going on? How could he be expected to be okay with it?

While Wilson could acknowledge that things could have gone worse with Max, he had to admit that he was worried about the patient. He seemed to have lost most of his hope and wasn't even attempting to try and get better at this point. The depression he was in was severe enough that he wished he could prescribe him something, but in good faith he realized that wasn't an option.

It just wouldn't be right when he wasn't certified for that kind of medicine. But still, he wondered what sort of state the man would be in when he saw him next week. It was a sobering thought.

Lunch had been as quiet as ever, spent in his office as he thought things over. For his second session he was set to see a patient who had been a no-show the week before, so that would definitely be interesting, if only because he might be able to hear the reason why.

Unless Tim Drake turned out to be the quiet type. It was completely possible. It was also possible that the reason for it might turn out to be another downer.

There was no point in speculating, though. Sipping on some afternoon coffee, the doctor waited for the boy to show up.

As Wilson walked the same path toward his office, he couldn't help feeling like he would just be stuck in this same wacky position for forever. He knew that he was being melodramatic and ridiculous, and that he really hadn't been here all that long in the first place, but there was just so much that was odd about the job and that made him wonder why the hell House had left him here -- and wasn't even answering his calls.

But he was no conspiracy theorist, and he just needed to take it one day at a time, even if he tended to count down the days until he left. Of course, he didn't have a concrete date, but...

The good thing was that this morning he would be seeing Max Vyer, or ZEX, who was one of his most longstanding patients. It was always good to have someone who he could see more than a few times, but it was also depressing if it turned out that Max was only doing worse and worse as the days went by. Granted, he knew that with any ailment, physical or mental, people tended to get worse before they got better, and so he just needed to be patient.

Easier said than done, of course, but he got situated in his office nonetheless and waited for the man to show up.

While Mr. Rousseau (or Brook, as he liked to be called), had been a bit... eccentric ("kooky" was the more accurate, but less PC word), he had also been more or less harmless, and the session had gone as smoothly as could be expected. More than that, it had ended in a timely manner, giving Wilson the chance to have a leisurely lunch out on the patio. While he knew it might be better to befriend some of the other doctors (if he'd gotten to know Dr. Stein, maybe he could have figured out what Brook had been so spooked about), he ended up staying to himself.

Part of it was because he didn't want to get too attached to this place. He got fixated on people who needed to be fixed, and that was basically all of his patients here. While Wilson figured that his lack of experience and the terrible administration meant that he'd be jumping to return to Princeton-Plainsboro the second that Cuddy called him back, he did worry all the same. What if he couldn't disconnect?

So he tried to limit the people he met to his patients and he hoped for the best. Though for this afternoon, he was scheduled to meet two new people: one Oliver Queen and one Arthur Kirkland. Both of them appeared to have identity issues, judging from a quick glance over their files, but he was going to reserve his judgment until he met the two men for himself.

The long weekend had mainly been spent catching up on sleep, grocery shopping, and watching bad television as he reflected on the fact that most of his patients hadn't shown signs of improving. Part of that was because they had serious problems, and part of it was because they were gone before he really got the chance to get to know them. Wilson was used to it by now, and yet it still annoyed him.

If Cuddy had been in charge of this place, she would have whipped it into shape in the space of a week. If anything, this assignment had made him realize how much she really did for the hospital.

But there was no point in dwelling. He was stuck here for the present moment, and he was going to do his best with the knowledge that he had, as scant as it was. The doctor entered the building while still finishing up an English muffin and took the regular path through the entry room, then to the right and up a hall to his office.

It was spic and span, probably having been cleaned over the weekend. Either way, it made him feel comfortable as he took a seat and started pulling patient charts for the week. First up was a Florian Rousseau, yet another new patient. As if that was any surprise.

All in all, it had been a pretty quiet day so far. As Wilson returned from the second floor patio to his office after lunch, he realized that it made sense, considering it was a Friday. Not that he imagined most of the patients here were too on top of which day it was. Still, it was possible the nurses did what they could to keep everyone calm before the excitement of their field trip day.

Wilson always considered wandering around on Saturdays to see if he ran into any of his patients, but he tended to back off at the last minute. He thought it might be similar to running into a teacher outside of the classroom -- not necessarily the most comfortable experience for his patients.

He'd just have to wait and see, then. Staying cooped up in his room wasn't very entertaining, either.

For now, though, he was back in his office for the last patient of the week. According to his schedule, it was a Sean Inoue, also known as Shinji Ikari. The boy had serious issues with socializing and a rather disturbing set of delusions on top of it all. Not an easy case, just judging from what the file had to say.

Wilson would have liked to end the week on a good note, but he wasn't sure how likely that would be. Nonetheless, he sat at his desk and waited patiently for the boy to show.

Even though it was his final day of the work week, Wilson was energetic as he walked into Landel's Institute around ten o' clock on Friday morning. He had a coffee in one hand (at least the food establishments in Doyleton made decent-quality stuff) and his briefcase in the other as he strolled into his office. At least working on Friday meant that he'd only have a three-day weekend. Part of him knew he should be glad to have so many days off, but there was only so much to do in town. When he was used to living in a city, the transition was pretty tough.

Today he would be seeing two new patients and one old, which seemed like a decent enough balance. He had to admit that the follow-ups were more rewarding, since he didn't have to go through the same gamut of questions that he'd practically memorized by now. Seeing possible progress was always the more enjoyable experience, but he was open to helping as many people as he could.

So, first would be Kyle (who he'd seen a few times now, amazingly enough) and then some teenager named Timothy Drake. Laying the two files down side-by-side, the doctor started to flip through them.

Somehow he'd managed to have a very calm morning. It wasn't often that Wilson met with two cooperative patients one after the other (a difficult one usually managed to work their way in somehow), so he was feeling refreshed and ready for his afternoon session.

Which happened to be Jude Davids, or Allelujah-slash-Hallelujah from last week. Seeing how Jude was one of those tricky patients, it seemed only fair that he'd been given Ms. Morales and Mr. Jenkins earlier. So long as he had a balance, Wilson could keep a proper composure with those patients who wouldn't given him even a bit of slack.

Still, he had a large task ahead of him, and he wasn't even sure if he'd be able to accomplish it. He wanted to make Allelujah see that his other personality was a danger to him, but he was so tightly bonded that it was a daunting prospect.

There was a reason that people with second personalities weren't able to function in the real world, though. There was always going to be that moment when the other took control in a situation where it wasn't safe, and then the person ended up in trouble somehow. Jude had a long way to go, and Wilson could only hope he'd somehow made progress over the past week.

He wasn't holding his breath, though.

There was something invigorating about getting back onto a proper work schedule. That weekend had just been far too long, especially when he'd had to spend it in the sort of town where everyone knew everyone and therefore didn't have much of interest to talk about. There was something that was just too Pleasantville about the whole thing, and while Wilson knew that was judgmental and even snobby of him to think, he couldn't help it.

Work, on the other hand, at least took his mind off of the fact that he'd been ditched in this job without even a way to get into contact with his colleagues, let alone his boss. He almost felt like he'd been exiled, and it was starting to wear on him. At this point, his biggest reprieve was in knowing that he had a small chance of really helping the patients here.

Though even that was an obstacle, considering the attitudes that most of them had, but it was at least an obstacle he was used to dealing with. Difficult patients were part of the package no matter what kind of doctor you were, oncology included. If anything, cancer patients were particularly tricky to handle -- their lives were falling apart and they were emotionally unstable, depressed, and angry. Sometimes at him. Often at him.

That was one of the only reasons why he felt like he had any experience in working with the patients here at Landel's. It was far more severe here, but at least it wasn't completely foreign to him.

Wilson entered his office, dropped his suitcase, and started to arrange his files. He had one follow-up session and a new patient this morning, so it looked like he'd have his hands full.

Things really could have gone worse with Lance. They could have gone a whole lot better, but at least it hadn't devolved into a staring contest and at least there hadn't been any throwing of heavy objects. Wilson counted those as pluses, since he really wasn't cut out for this. Maybe if he'd been trained to do this sort of thing, but all he was working off of was his own intuition and his desire to help people.

A lot of the patients didn't really come off as needy and desperate, though. Instead, they were confident and challenged him at every turn. It wasn't what he'd expect from people who were so ill, but maybe they were just that set in their delusions. What he really couldn't understand was how Lance had been doing so much better the day before, only to revert back overnight. The man had called it reprogramming, and it almost felt that way. Still, as weird as it was, people weren't robots.

Wilson knew he was expected to go and eat with the other doctors during their lunch break, but with House not around he wasn't feeling up to it. With his own lunch already made and brought with him, it was simple to just stay in his office and eat alone. Probably not the healthiest behavior, but it wasn't like he hadn't done it at Princeton too. Usually when he was avoiding House, but the point still stood.

With lunch eaten and his desk cleaned up, the doctor waited for his next batch of patients; one old and one new. He had been seeing Max for a while now (by Landel's standards, anyway), and it was good to have such a consistent patient when others got switched in and out like it was nothing.

Somehow, Wilson had ended up with an even longer weekend. When it turned out to be five days long, it didn't really count as a weekend anymore, did it? He had spent most of it trying to get a hold of either House or Cuddy, but both of them were doing a fantastic job of avoiding their calls.

It was weird, since his friend usually only did that when he knew he was in for some sort of lecture, and Wilson didn't have any to give at the moment. House might just be doing it to mess with him, but Wilson found that it was a lot harder to go into work at Landel's Institute knowing that his friend wouldn't be in the office a few doors down.

He hadn't been given much of an explanation for why they were starting on Wednesday as opposed to Tuesday. Apparently there had been some sort of occurrence, but that was the extent of what he'd been told. This place was shaping up to be a real winner, all right.

Though one of the nurses did tell him that a few patients had experienced vast improvements over the past few days. It was good to hear, but he had to wonder why he had been told not to come in until now if that was the case. Sighing and shaking his head, the doctor walked into his dusty office and started to tidy up as he waited for his first patient of the day to come in. It was a new one, but that wasn't surprising considering how this place seemed to operate.

Things could have gone better with Max, but they also could have gone much, much worse. Wilson was willing to take a somewhat awkward, tense session over a downright terrible one. As for his next two patients (the last two for this week), one was completely new to him while the other one would be a follow-up. He would have preferred the new patient have a shift to herself, but he had little say in how the scheduling worked in this place.

As for the returning patient, Wilson remembered Kyle well. The boy possibly had some sort of personality disorder, but unlike Allelujah-Hallelujah from earlier, he hadn't been aware of his other personality. Wilson had to wonder if the boy had made any effort to keep track of his moods and his memory to see if things didn't add up, but he supposed it wouldn't be long before he found out. The boy had been agreeable last time, so unless he was in a bad mood today (like Max), things should go smoothly. The new patient was a mystery, but Wilson did his best to keep an open mind.

It was hard to believe it was already the last day of his work week. Wilson knew he shouldn't question the fact that he barely had any work hours, especially since he was well-paid, but he did wonder at it sometimes. He realized that Landel's was an exclusive hospital and they wanted close care to be paid to the patients, but he honestly didn't think he was doing that great of a job. Once again, he had to ask himself why they didn't hire someone more qualified.

The whole situation was making him uneasy, and the fact that it was so hard to track down House worried him even further. Still, all he could do now was make sure that he was in his office when he was supposed to be.

Having a returning patient made him feel a little better, since it was good to know that he might make progress with some of the people here. He knew he should be glad when his patients were released, but when he did little to help it was kind of mysterious. Some people got better with the right medication alone, but...

Sighing, Wilson dropped his finished cup of coffee into the office trash can and then settled into his chair as he waited for Max Vyer.

While his morning session hadn't gone as well as the ones from yesterday, it also hadn't gone nearly as bad as he'd thought it would when Allelujah had first walked into the room. The young man had been wary, but once he'd realized that all of the information was going to be put on the table, he'd quickly opened up. Not completely, by any means, and there had been no sign of Hallelujah, but that was probably for the best. It sounded like the patient became violent when the personality switched, and Wilson probably wasn't prepared to deal with something like that on his own.

He would just have to hope they could make more progress next week. For now, Wilson was letting his lunch settle as he waited for his afternoon patients to come in. Well, it was actually just one patient, since apparently the other one had already been discharged. It was no skin off his back, and obviously good for the patient.

He'd made a drive down to Doyleton for lunch out of a need to stretch his legs (and also because he had to admit that the other doctors here weren't the best company). House also had been hard to track down lately. Usually they were in and out of each other's offices, but it was difficult to pull the same stunts here. He was just going to have to hope that his friend didn't get into too much trouble. For now, all Wilson could do was wait for Sean Li to show up.

Stepping into his office on this particular Wednesday morning, Wilson had to admit that he was in a good mood. His last session the day before had gone particularly well, and he only wished that more of that patients were as willing to talk as Aubrey had been. Things could never be that easy, though, could they? Then again, considering he wasn't really qualified for this job, he would have thought he deserved a little slack here and there.

Either way, he was hoping that he was on some kind of good streak. Didn't those self-help books always talk about thinking positive? It was a load of bull (the sort of thing he and House had mocked together in the past), but the concept itself wasn't so bad. He'd seen enough dying patients hold on just a day more to see a family member to know that sometimes strength of will alone was enough to make a difference.

That was an internal thing, though. He had no sway over how well-behaved his patients were, but he was allowed to cross his fingers under his desk.

Next up was a new patient - new to him, at least. The man had apparently been at Landel's for a few days. Jude Davis was the name, and he was listed as having a personality disorder. He already sounded like a handful, but Wilson was going to withhold judgment for now.