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deelaundryTitle: DVD Commentary: Foreman in Aftershocks 26.3 Victory
Author: Dee Laundry
Fandoms: House MD
Relationships: Gen
Characters: Eric Foreman, Robert Chase, James Wilson
Rating: PG / Teen
Summary: Some thoughts on writing Eric Foreman
Tags: Character of Color, POV Character of Color, Comfort, Recovery, Board Games, Cooking
Welcome to the DVD commentary for “Aftershocks 26.3: Victory.” This chapter of Aftershocks is peaceful and comforting; most other chapters are far more harrowing, rated Mature for graphic violence and in the very first chapter/story “Bad Company,” one scene of rape/non-con. This meta was prompted by Banned Together Bingo 2020, prompt “Black Character with Agency.”
Disclaimer: I am a white person. The meta/DVD commentary below, therefore, is a white person talking about how they tried to write a Black character’s ideas in an in-character way.
Here are links to blogs that contain real-life Black people’s ideas about fandom/content, which need to be read. You can’t read everything that exists on the internet, obviously, but purposefully ignoring all Black people’s ideas builds White supremacy in fandom. Which is (a) harmful and (b) contrary to the inclusive ideals most people enter fandom with.
nerdsagainstfandomracism.tumblr.com
fandomshatepeopleofcolor.tumblr.com
mcufandomhatespeopleofcolor.tumblr.com
writingwithcolor.tumblr.com
diversehighfantasy.tumblr.com
TED Talk - The Danger of a Single Story
In March 2007,nightdog_barks (an exemplary writer) wrote a House fanfic called “Bad Company,” in which “Wilson pays dearly for something House hasn't done.” This is a dark tale, rough and violent, that explores the “hurt” of hurt/comfort fully and only hints briefly, at the end, at the “comfort.”
In that same month, a few friends and fellow writers began collaborating with Nightdog on follow-ups to “Bad Company” that would detail a path of recovery for Wilson, House, and their friendship. Eventually, these follow-ups would be pulled together in the novel-length fic Aftershocks.
Few of the 93 chapters of Aftershocks were co-written; it was typically one writer per chapter, with the others providing discussion/beta/editing. I came into the Aftershocks writing process with ideas for the epilogue and then asked where else I could contribute. The other writers (Nightdog, Blackmare, and Perspi) said the story needed perspective from Foreman. For those not in the House fandom, in 2007 Foreman, who is Black, was the only main or recurring character of color on the show, and had the least presence in House fanfic.
I started with two chapters about Foreman from Chase’s point of view, and then wrote “Victory” from Foreman’s point of view.
Aftershocks 26.3: Victory
Victory
The fighting is intense.
He’s always preferred guerilla actions – finely targeted goals accomplished with the ultimate in stealth and finesse – but this time the factions have amassed on all sides. There’s no choice but to press on with all-out war. After a skirmish goes horribly wrong, he gets chased out of Western Asia and has to fall back to his stronghold in Ukraine.
From there it’s a quick trip through Scandinavia to Iceland, dispatching the enemy as he goes. Rallying his resources from Venezuela, he’s able to rout the Black Forces, decimating and then obliterating them. Alberta is the last to fall, and he ignores the hiss of anguish as the lone final infantryman’s eleventh hour stand is crushed.
These first paragraphs are supposed to be a fake-out, making you think they’re about the villain of Aftershocks participating in real-life fighting, but I don’t think any of the readers were fooled. The paragraphs are actually in Foreman’s perspective as he’s playing Risk with Chase and Wilson in House’s apartment, where Wilson is living while recovering from his assault. Wilson sleeps on a hospital bed in the living room, which will come up later.
“The Black Forces” refer specifically to the color of the game pieces Wilson was using.
“Foreman, don’t be such a bastard; get Wilson his meds.”
“He’s got all the time in the world to get them himself now, seeing as how I’ve so soundly knocked him out of the game.” Foreman kicks his feet up on the coffee table to emphasize his point. Chase is a sucker if he thinks that sound of Wilson’s was anything more than disappointment at getting his ass handed to him.
One of Foreman’s ideas, firmly established in canon, is that competition is good, and “being friendly” doesn’t enter into it.
The twinkle in Wilson’s expression as he rises carefully from the couch confirms Foreman’s assessment. Foreman watches him move with a clinical eye and concludes that much of the stiffness comes from sitting upright and in one position for too long. It’s a favor to Wilson, when you think about it, to give him an excuse to move by defeating him so he’s out of the game.
Foreman is (a) a good doctor and (b) kind of a prig.
And it’s only a board game, not like it even means anything.
No, nothing at all. A child’s game, meant for pre-pubescent boys with nothing on their minds but silly tactics for sneakily swindling their way to achievement.
Chase’s ultimate win is conclusive proof of that.
Did I mention Foreman is kind of a prig? In the first few seasons, it’s clear he thinks himself more mature than Cameron and Chase.
Foreman snorts as his last country is taken by Chase: Argentina, the southernmost tip of the inhabited world. “They have some good skiing down there,” Chase notes, and Foreman rolls his eyes. Wilson is smiling at them from his spot back on the bed. He’s drawn a blue and white quilt around himself; Foreman wonders if he realizes he’s clutching the corner the way a kid with a security blanket would.
Foreman is not just unimpressed but disdainful of Chase’s family wealth. I’m betting Foreman’s family was lower-middle-class, like mine, and couldn’t afford skiing at all, much less in Argentina. (Chase mentions skiing in another country in canon, but Argentina is much more likely to be the last country taken in Risk than ones in Europe.)
There are a few minutes of uncomfortable nothingness while Chase puts away the board game, and Foreman contemplates what to say next.
I’ll pause here to say that I have never particularly liked Foreman as a character, and I realized it was because he has pretty much no sense of humor, especially in the first four seasons. (He lightens up in later seasons, in scenes with Taub in particular.) His actor, Omar Epps, has a lovely sense of humor but Foreman doesn’t. He’s not a villain in any way, shape, or form, so he deserves to be written sympathetically, but I was having a hard time figuring out how to make him warm without humor or overt kindness. (None of the characters on the show have kindness as a character trait. Nope, not even Wilson; he means well, but generally he’s nice to others in order to manage his own anxiety. OK, maybe Cameron might be kind, when away from House’s orbit.)
"... you haven't done anything stupid, spontaneous or even remotely interesting since you were seventeen... And that's just sad." House to Foreman after Lucas Douglas failed to dig up any dirt on him in "Lucky Thirteen."
Wilson probably hears all about the hospital from House, and Foreman can’t think of anything else they have in common. Different worlds. He can’t fathom why Chase has been at him to come over here.
In canon, Wilson and Foreman pretty much have nothing in common but medicine and House, and even those they approach from different perspectives and react to in different ways. Plus as Chase says in canon: “He (Foreman) takes a little time to warm to people....in my case I'm hoping year seven does the trick.”
“Well, while the two of us are here, want us to do anything for you?” Chase asks of Wilson, after stowing the game on one of the bookshelves. “Move the couch around? Push the TV further back?”
“Yer really askin’ for hard lab’r?” Wilson replies wryly. His lips are gleaming from the chapstick he just applied, and Foreman finds it disconcerting – too much like lip gloss. There are rumors that the first tube House got for Wilson was the little-girl glitter kind; Foreman shudders inwardly thinking of it.
Foreman is the most masculine of the characters on the show (not that the other men aren’t masculine, he’s just the most), although it doesn’t cross the line into male chauvinism 99% of the time. Foreman is arrogant and superior-acting as an individual, not on the basis of gender. The lines above are meant to capture Foreman’s rejection of feminine expression for himself, not disdain for femininity overall.
Chase holds his hands out and shrugs in a what can you do gesture. “You should take advantage of strapping young men when you’ve got them.”
Oh, Chase. And you wonder why House makes ‘short shorts’ jokes around you. Wilson starts choking, his polite cough having become tangled with what was probably an involuntary laugh.
LOL ‘strapping young men.’ Foreman thinks Chase is way too naive for his own good.
Moving immediately to Wilson’s side, Chase asks, “You OK?” as he rubs gently on Wilson’s back. Wilson nods, still coughing, and waves his right hand in fast, needy circles. Foreman spots a nearby water bottle and hands it over.
Foreman does want to be useful to others, but it won’t be through comforting.
After a few squirts of water and a few attempts at deep breaths, the coughing fit subsides. Now Wilson looks tired, but he still manages to smile at the two of them.
“Don’ need any fu’niture moved, but thanks,” he says, sinking back onto the bed. Chase wanders back to the bookcase and starts idly reading titles.
“Good,” Foreman replies, as he sits on the couch, “because I’m a doctor, not a mover.”
Chase throws him a strange look, then catches Wilson’s gaze and adds, “Jim.”
When has anyone ever called Wilson “Jim”? His colleagues call him “James” – even his wife Julie, in the one time Foreman met her, called him “James.” Foreman’s still puzzling when he realizes Wilson is choking again, lighter this time.
“No,” Wilson says after a second, looking over at Chase’s ridiculously beaming grin. “Not gonna laugh. My ribs’ve bin tickled ’nough.”
What? What obscure thing –
“Star Trek,” Chase explains. “McCoy on the first Star Trek used to say that all the time. ‘Dammit, Jim, I’m a doctor, not a bricklayer.’”
Lord, the hilarity never stops.
Foreman’s a workaholic, so I surmised he might never have seen Star Trek and thus might not realize he’d stumbled into a classic reference. Now I’m going to take that back and say that he’s seen some episodes of the original series, given how groundbreaking a character Uhura was (as Whoopi Goldberg reports having said, “Everybody, come quick, come quick, there’s a Black lady on television and she ain’t no maid!”), but not enough that the McCoy reference meant anything to him.
Also, while Foreman is not so much with the humorous remarks, he is definitely one for sarcasm.
Chase turns toward Wilson again. “Seriously, though, anything you’ve been wanting to do that we can help with?”
Wilson sighs, a loud exhale through his nose. “Not really. Yer remindin’ me, though: bin a while since I cooked. Kinda miss it.”
Foreman’s never thought about it before, but now he puts two and two together. House waxed rhapsodic last year about Wilson’s pancakes and salads and other assorted leftovers, and to get a compliment out of House, you’ve got to be at the absolute peak of your game. But Wilson’s been living in a hotel, according to rumors, for months and months, no kitchen at all. Shame for a talent to languish like that.
I’m proud of this paragraph, as it brings out several things about Foreman: He puts two and two together well (specifically that metaphor: he is intelligent, and his intelligence is more methodical than creatively inspirational, the way House and Chase are); he has an excellent vocabulary; he admires superlative performance in others; and he empathizes with circumstances holding back the opportunity to achieve. He doesn’t feel bad that Wilson hasn’t been able to have fun or relax with cooking; he feels bad that Wilson hasn’t been able to demonstrate his expertise with cooking.
“What’s your favorite?” he asks, sitting on the couch and kicking back.
“’talian,” Wilson says immediately. “Sauces, fresh pasta. ’N soups. I make a mean cioppino.”
Nothing better than homemade soup. Foreman can practically taste it. “My grandmother had this great beef stew she made. It was excellent. Every time I’d see her I’d beg for some.”
And here finally was my in, my way to feel Foreman’s warmth: to have him recall his family. In canon, he doesn’t seem to fit with his father or his brother mentally, but I surmise, based on scenes with his mother, that he fits with his family emotionally. He’s gotten busy, and focused on “getting out” of his childhood circumstances, but he has memories of belonging that are good. “[S]ome part of me I can’t get rid of thinks, ‘If I’m not the smartest, if I’m not the first, everywhere I go, they’ll figure out I’m not supposed to be here.’ They’ll send me back. … When I came home, that last Christmas I was in college, it was like… the rooms felt so small. It was so suffocating. But when I was standing on the stoop saying goodbye, my mom put her arms around me. That was the last time I ever felt at home.” (Foreman, “House Training”)
“Yeah?”
“Guess you can’t have stew now,” Foreman says sympathetically.
“Can have blend’d stew. Had a fried chicken smoothie one day.”
Foreman can feel his lip curling; Chase looks a little green. Wilson chuckles at them and points out, “Sweet shit gets old fast.”
Wilson’s jaw is wired shut at this point of the fic, and he has been on a liquid diet for 26 days.
He can imagine it’s true, but still. Liquid fried anything – ugh. Blended beef stew might not be too bad, though. Or even simply the broth base of Gran’s stew would be delicious. “Where’d we put your laptop?” he asks.
“What?” Wilson and Chase ask at the same time. Their expressions even match, and that’s weirder than Foreman wants to think about.
He repeats, “Laptop. I want to get my Gran’s stew recipe.”
“What, you have it in your email or something?” Chase asks.
Like he’s a woman, sharing recipes around. It’s on his cousin Tanisha’s family website. “Or something,” he replies, as Wilson gestures toward a table tucked into a corner. Chase obediently retrieves the computer.
(Masculinity rears its head again, hee.) I paid attention to the names I gave Foreman’s family members, as I didn’t want to be too White with the names nor go into stereotype. So, I used the names of Black people that I knew.
“Wireless?” Foreman asks as Wilson awkwardly punches in the password.
“Yep. Here ya go.”
This was written in 2007, so wi-fi (“wireless” as we sometimes called it back then) was not as ubiquitous as it is now. Foreman was confirming the laptop wasn’t tethered to the wall with a wired connection for internet.
Foreman sits on the side of the bed, careful not to jostle Wilson too much, and pulls the computer onto his lap. Wilson draws his legs back, and Chase drops into the vacant spot and leans over Foreman’s shoulder.
As Foreman pulls up the website, intellectually he thinks that three men sitting on a bed together is odd and ought to be uncomfortable. But it’s not. It’s probably the Foreman family site that’s doing it – bringing up good memories of sleepover weekends with his cousins, piling into the same bed for warmth in the winter and to drive each other crazy with the heat in the summer. Good times.
I didn’t have any first or second cousins, but I had friends who did and pulled on their stories for this memory of Foreman’s. I do, however, remember very well that utilities are expensive when you’re lower-middle-class, and putting up with the cold or heat is one of a kid’s duties.
He clears his throat to get rid of phlegm that’s appeared for no reason and clicks through to the right page. “Here it is, Gran’s beef stew. Oh, and her greens, too. Those are great. Kim makes them every year at Thanksgiving. Or, I assume she still does; I haven’t, um, been in a while.” He looks back, and is surprised to see Wilson’s face so close. He pushes the laptop back in Wilson’s direction. “Here you go.”
“Greens” means collard greens, a staple of many African-American families’ cuisine.
Wilson eagerly pulls the laptop close and settles it on his lap. “Looks w’nnerful.” He sighs. “I’d love to make it.”
Surprised, Foreman shrugs. “Well, go ahead then. It’s not copyrighted. Although I think Gran’s third husband tried.”
“Your grandmother was a slut!” Chase pipes up chirpily, and Foreman’s ready to kill him.
This is a callback to a conversation Chase had with Foreman in a previous chapter of the fic, in which Chase insulted Foreman’s grandmother to make a justified point about how Foreman was acting. Here, Chase isn’t trying to be mean, but Foreman is still not having it.
“Hey, hey, now,” Wilson warns. Foreman nods to thank him, and then realizes Wilson’s probably defending his own serial marriages. Widowed three times over sixty years is substantially different from divorced three times before age forty, however. And with the poor health care black men generally have received, it was almost a given that a black woman of his grandmother's age would be widowed at a fairly young age –
Poor health care for Black men in the US is a fact, not an opinion, unfortunately. That’s why I felt it might be realistic for Foreman’s grandmother to have been widowed and then re-married more than once. My own grandmother was a hit with gentlemen in her senior years, and I pictured Foreman’s grandmother being equally as charming and loving.
I’m wondering now if “black” should be capitalized in that paragraph since it’s in Foreman’s point of view. Writing this today, I definitely would capitalize it in Foreman’s POV, but I don’t recall how things were in 2007.
While thinking about this, I’ve now read a few different articles, including this one released just today from the National Association of Black Journalists, that recommend everyone capitalizing when writing about Black people, Black communities, etc. Given that recommendation, I am capitalizing Black in this meta, and capitalizing White when referencing the White race. I still call myself lower-case white though, much as someone might have the ideal for themselves to be straight rather than Straight. My thinking on this will probably evolve over time.
“Sorry,” Chase says, breaking Foreman’s train of thought. Foreman turns to glare, but Chase is doing that big-eyed, soft-faced Don’t kick little innocent me thing. Bastard.
Foreman’s holding himself back from shoving Chase off the bed just to watch him drop when Wilson distracts him with a loud sigh. “Thanks, Foreman. Can’t make the rec’pe yet but I’ll save it.”
I think Foreman is still in “hanging out with his cousins” mode as he imagines “shoving Chase off the bed just to watch him drop.”
“Why can’t you make it?” Chase asks.
Wilson pats the sling on his left arm, then touches his clavicle once. “Too hard t’chop with one arm.”
“There you go!” Chase says eagerly and bounces off the bed. “That’s what we can help you with. We chop, you cook.”
“Nah,” Wilson replies, but it’s wistful.
“Foreman?” Chase prompts.
“Sure, why not? As long as we can take some home with us.” He ignores the faintly disapproving look on Chase’s face in favor of the smile spreading across Wilson’s.
Foreman is getting more comfortable now, although still as practical as always. Chase thinks Foreman’s being a bit selfish wanting to take some of the food home, but Wilson wouldn’t be quite as happy if he wasn’t going to get to feed Foreman and Chase at the end.
“Will you go get the ’ngred’ents? I should get some rest now anyway.”
Five minutes later they’re out the door on the way to Foreman’s grocery store, shopping list downloaded to his phone. There’s a butcher down the street that he’s heard is good; they’ll pick up the beef there.
See how they’re going to Foreman’s grocery store? He trusts himself to know the best, more than he trusts anyone else.
Chase yammers the whole time about this and that, and some of it’s amusing and some Foreman tunes out. They manage to hit the produce section just as new stock’s being laid out, so the vegetables are fresh, and there are fresh-baked loaves at the bakery, too. Foreman’s not much of a cook generally, but he’s actually looking forward to this. Gran would be proud. Surprised, but proud.
Climbing out of the car in front of House’s, Chase frets that they might interrupt Wilson’s nap if they go back in too soon. “We’ll be quiet,” Foreman replies, trying not to roll his eyes.
Foreman does not believe in babying anyone!
Their hushed entry doesn’t wake Wilson up, but it does make him drop his phone and fumble for the remote. “– not your baby!” screeches out of the television before the screen goes blank.
Pinking slightly, Wilson retrieves his cell and says a hurried, “See ya later,” to whomever – House – is on the line.
“Jes flippin’ channels,” Wilson tries to explain as Foreman and Chase pass by on their way to the kitchen. They trade amused smiles and start unpacking the groceries.
It was established in an earlier chapter that Wilson and House both watch the soap General Hospital every day. This chapter, set two days later in fic time, is probably the first time they watched together while on the phone -- Wilson called House to give him an update on Chase & Foreman and the show happened to come on. Foreman hadn’t known before this that Wilson watched soaps, but he is able to put two and two together, remember?
The next half-hour is filled with peeling, chopping, and mixing. Foreman thought Wilson was relaxed before as they were playing Risk, but here, with the smell of fresh food and seasonings rising all around them, Wilson is truly in his element. He guides them through all the steps; gently corrects any mistakes; seasons, stirs, and samples.
As the soup is simmering, they kick back with beers and fruit juice, and Foreman finds himself telling them stories about when he was young. About his Gran, who was an excellent cook, and his Nana, who was most definitely not, and his mother, who could bake like no one else.
I’d established that Gran had good recipes, so it amused me to think of Foreman’s other grandmother being a terrible cook (like my mom and her moms and aunts were). Then I wanted to bring Foreman’s mother in without her upstaging Gran, so I made her a top-notch baker.
It’s probably just the soup steaming up the kitchen, but Foreman hasn’t felt this warm in a while. He thinks maybe he’ll call Tanisha tonight, or Rodney or Bill, and see how they’re doing.
Oh, Foreman; even in his own mind he’d rather ascribe warmth to a physical reason than an emotional one. Still, he’s feeling good enough to reconnect with his cousins. Rodney is Foreman’s dad’s name, according to canon, and I liked thinking it was a family name, so at least one cousin in Foreman’s generation has the name too. PS. This was 2007, when calling people on the phone was still the primary way to get in touch with them.
He wouldn’t have imagined that House owned Tupperware, but when it’s time to go, Wilson manages to scare up two big bowls from somewhere so Chase and Foreman can each take some of the stew home.
“It smells exactly like Gran’s,” Foreman says as his farewell, and when Wilson smiles, Foreman can see his whole, healthy face behind the bruises, bumps, and wires.
There’s Foreman complimenting Wilson, and Wilson appreciating it. A great note to end on.
So, that was one of my forays into Foreman’s point of view. My approach was, in general, the same as my approach to the other House characters: 1) use canon as my guide, 2) find commonalities I have with the character to expand beyond canon comfortably, 3) draw upon other experience or knowledge to extrapolate additional details; 4) be open to feedback from others who know the character’s culture(s) better than I do. Oh and 5) leave the character in settings I feel that I can write knowledgeably. I’ve written a lot in Wilson POV, but I don’t write about him going to temple because I don’t have enough experience in that setting to make it realistic at all.
Author: Dee Laundry
Fandoms: House MD
Relationships: Gen
Characters: Eric Foreman, Robert Chase, James Wilson
Rating: PG / Teen
Summary: Some thoughts on writing Eric Foreman
Tags: Character of Color, POV Character of Color, Comfort, Recovery, Board Games, Cooking
Welcome to the DVD commentary for “Aftershocks 26.3: Victory.” This chapter of Aftershocks is peaceful and comforting; most other chapters are far more harrowing, rated Mature for graphic violence and in the very first chapter/story “Bad Company,” one scene of rape/non-con. This meta was prompted by Banned Together Bingo 2020, prompt “Black Character with Agency.”
Disclaimer: I am a white person. The meta/DVD commentary below, therefore, is a white person talking about how they tried to write a Black character’s ideas in an in-character way.
Here are links to blogs that contain real-life Black people’s ideas about fandom/content, which need to be read. You can’t read everything that exists on the internet, obviously, but purposefully ignoring all Black people’s ideas builds White supremacy in fandom. Which is (a) harmful and (b) contrary to the inclusive ideals most people enter fandom with.
nerdsagainstfandomracism.tumblr.com
fandomshatepeopleofcolor.tumblr.com
mcufandomhatespeopleofcolor.tumblr.com
writingwithcolor.tumblr.com
diversehighfantasy.tumblr.com
TED Talk - The Danger of a Single Story
In March 2007,
nightdog_barks (an exemplary writer) wrote a House fanfic called “Bad Company,” in which “Wilson pays dearly for something House hasn't done.” This is a dark tale, rough and violent, that explores the “hurt” of hurt/comfort fully and only hints briefly, at the end, at the “comfort.”In that same month, a few friends and fellow writers began collaborating with Nightdog on follow-ups to “Bad Company” that would detail a path of recovery for Wilson, House, and their friendship. Eventually, these follow-ups would be pulled together in the novel-length fic Aftershocks.
Few of the 93 chapters of Aftershocks were co-written; it was typically one writer per chapter, with the others providing discussion/beta/editing. I came into the Aftershocks writing process with ideas for the epilogue and then asked where else I could contribute. The other writers (Nightdog, Blackmare, and Perspi) said the story needed perspective from Foreman. For those not in the House fandom, in 2007 Foreman, who is Black, was the only main or recurring character of color on the show, and had the least presence in House fanfic.
I started with two chapters about Foreman from Chase’s point of view, and then wrote “Victory” from Foreman’s point of view.
Aftershocks 26.3: Victory
Victory
The fighting is intense.
He’s always preferred guerilla actions – finely targeted goals accomplished with the ultimate in stealth and finesse – but this time the factions have amassed on all sides. There’s no choice but to press on with all-out war. After a skirmish goes horribly wrong, he gets chased out of Western Asia and has to fall back to his stronghold in Ukraine.
From there it’s a quick trip through Scandinavia to Iceland, dispatching the enemy as he goes. Rallying his resources from Venezuela, he’s able to rout the Black Forces, decimating and then obliterating them. Alberta is the last to fall, and he ignores the hiss of anguish as the lone final infantryman’s eleventh hour stand is crushed.
These first paragraphs are supposed to be a fake-out, making you think they’re about the villain of Aftershocks participating in real-life fighting, but I don’t think any of the readers were fooled. The paragraphs are actually in Foreman’s perspective as he’s playing Risk with Chase and Wilson in House’s apartment, where Wilson is living while recovering from his assault. Wilson sleeps on a hospital bed in the living room, which will come up later.
“The Black Forces” refer specifically to the color of the game pieces Wilson was using.
“Foreman, don’t be such a bastard; get Wilson his meds.”
“He’s got all the time in the world to get them himself now, seeing as how I’ve so soundly knocked him out of the game.” Foreman kicks his feet up on the coffee table to emphasize his point. Chase is a sucker if he thinks that sound of Wilson’s was anything more than disappointment at getting his ass handed to him.
One of Foreman’s ideas, firmly established in canon, is that competition is good, and “being friendly” doesn’t enter into it.
The twinkle in Wilson’s expression as he rises carefully from the couch confirms Foreman’s assessment. Foreman watches him move with a clinical eye and concludes that much of the stiffness comes from sitting upright and in one position for too long. It’s a favor to Wilson, when you think about it, to give him an excuse to move by defeating him so he’s out of the game.
Foreman is (a) a good doctor and (b) kind of a prig.
And it’s only a board game, not like it even means anything.
No, nothing at all. A child’s game, meant for pre-pubescent boys with nothing on their minds but silly tactics for sneakily swindling their way to achievement.
Chase’s ultimate win is conclusive proof of that.
Did I mention Foreman is kind of a prig? In the first few seasons, it’s clear he thinks himself more mature than Cameron and Chase.
Foreman snorts as his last country is taken by Chase: Argentina, the southernmost tip of the inhabited world. “They have some good skiing down there,” Chase notes, and Foreman rolls his eyes. Wilson is smiling at them from his spot back on the bed. He’s drawn a blue and white quilt around himself; Foreman wonders if he realizes he’s clutching the corner the way a kid with a security blanket would.
Foreman is not just unimpressed but disdainful of Chase’s family wealth. I’m betting Foreman’s family was lower-middle-class, like mine, and couldn’t afford skiing at all, much less in Argentina. (Chase mentions skiing in another country in canon, but Argentina is much more likely to be the last country taken in Risk than ones in Europe.)
There are a few minutes of uncomfortable nothingness while Chase puts away the board game, and Foreman contemplates what to say next.
I’ll pause here to say that I have never particularly liked Foreman as a character, and I realized it was because he has pretty much no sense of humor, especially in the first four seasons. (He lightens up in later seasons, in scenes with Taub in particular.) His actor, Omar Epps, has a lovely sense of humor but Foreman doesn’t. He’s not a villain in any way, shape, or form, so he deserves to be written sympathetically, but I was having a hard time figuring out how to make him warm without humor or overt kindness. (None of the characters on the show have kindness as a character trait. Nope, not even Wilson; he means well, but generally he’s nice to others in order to manage his own anxiety. OK, maybe Cameron might be kind, when away from House’s orbit.)
"... you haven't done anything stupid, spontaneous or even remotely interesting since you were seventeen... And that's just sad." House to Foreman after Lucas Douglas failed to dig up any dirt on him in "Lucky Thirteen."
Wilson probably hears all about the hospital from House, and Foreman can’t think of anything else they have in common. Different worlds. He can’t fathom why Chase has been at him to come over here.
In canon, Wilson and Foreman pretty much have nothing in common but medicine and House, and even those they approach from different perspectives and react to in different ways. Plus as Chase says in canon: “He (Foreman) takes a little time to warm to people....in my case I'm hoping year seven does the trick.”
“Well, while the two of us are here, want us to do anything for you?” Chase asks of Wilson, after stowing the game on one of the bookshelves. “Move the couch around? Push the TV further back?”
“Yer really askin’ for hard lab’r?” Wilson replies wryly. His lips are gleaming from the chapstick he just applied, and Foreman finds it disconcerting – too much like lip gloss. There are rumors that the first tube House got for Wilson was the little-girl glitter kind; Foreman shudders inwardly thinking of it.
Foreman is the most masculine of the characters on the show (not that the other men aren’t masculine, he’s just the most), although it doesn’t cross the line into male chauvinism 99% of the time. Foreman is arrogant and superior-acting as an individual, not on the basis of gender. The lines above are meant to capture Foreman’s rejection of feminine expression for himself, not disdain for femininity overall.
Chase holds his hands out and shrugs in a what can you do gesture. “You should take advantage of strapping young men when you’ve got them.”
Oh, Chase. And you wonder why House makes ‘short shorts’ jokes around you. Wilson starts choking, his polite cough having become tangled with what was probably an involuntary laugh.
LOL ‘strapping young men.’ Foreman thinks Chase is way too naive for his own good.
Moving immediately to Wilson’s side, Chase asks, “You OK?” as he rubs gently on Wilson’s back. Wilson nods, still coughing, and waves his right hand in fast, needy circles. Foreman spots a nearby water bottle and hands it over.
Foreman does want to be useful to others, but it won’t be through comforting.
After a few squirts of water and a few attempts at deep breaths, the coughing fit subsides. Now Wilson looks tired, but he still manages to smile at the two of them.
“Don’ need any fu’niture moved, but thanks,” he says, sinking back onto the bed. Chase wanders back to the bookcase and starts idly reading titles.
“Good,” Foreman replies, as he sits on the couch, “because I’m a doctor, not a mover.”
Chase throws him a strange look, then catches Wilson’s gaze and adds, “Jim.”
When has anyone ever called Wilson “Jim”? His colleagues call him “James” – even his wife Julie, in the one time Foreman met her, called him “James.” Foreman’s still puzzling when he realizes Wilson is choking again, lighter this time.
“No,” Wilson says after a second, looking over at Chase’s ridiculously beaming grin. “Not gonna laugh. My ribs’ve bin tickled ’nough.”
What? What obscure thing –
“Star Trek,” Chase explains. “McCoy on the first Star Trek used to say that all the time. ‘Dammit, Jim, I’m a doctor, not a bricklayer.’”
Lord, the hilarity never stops.
Foreman’s a workaholic, so I surmised he might never have seen Star Trek and thus might not realize he’d stumbled into a classic reference. Now I’m going to take that back and say that he’s seen some episodes of the original series, given how groundbreaking a character Uhura was (as Whoopi Goldberg reports having said, “Everybody, come quick, come quick, there’s a Black lady on television and she ain’t no maid!”), but not enough that the McCoy reference meant anything to him.
Also, while Foreman is not so much with the humorous remarks, he is definitely one for sarcasm.
Chase turns toward Wilson again. “Seriously, though, anything you’ve been wanting to do that we can help with?”
Wilson sighs, a loud exhale through his nose. “Not really. Yer remindin’ me, though: bin a while since I cooked. Kinda miss it.”
Foreman’s never thought about it before, but now he puts two and two together. House waxed rhapsodic last year about Wilson’s pancakes and salads and other assorted leftovers, and to get a compliment out of House, you’ve got to be at the absolute peak of your game. But Wilson’s been living in a hotel, according to rumors, for months and months, no kitchen at all. Shame for a talent to languish like that.
I’m proud of this paragraph, as it brings out several things about Foreman: He puts two and two together well (specifically that metaphor: he is intelligent, and his intelligence is more methodical than creatively inspirational, the way House and Chase are); he has an excellent vocabulary; he admires superlative performance in others; and he empathizes with circumstances holding back the opportunity to achieve. He doesn’t feel bad that Wilson hasn’t been able to have fun or relax with cooking; he feels bad that Wilson hasn’t been able to demonstrate his expertise with cooking.
“What’s your favorite?” he asks, sitting on the couch and kicking back.
“’talian,” Wilson says immediately. “Sauces, fresh pasta. ’N soups. I make a mean cioppino.”
Nothing better than homemade soup. Foreman can practically taste it. “My grandmother had this great beef stew she made. It was excellent. Every time I’d see her I’d beg for some.”
And here finally was my in, my way to feel Foreman’s warmth: to have him recall his family. In canon, he doesn’t seem to fit with his father or his brother mentally, but I surmise, based on scenes with his mother, that he fits with his family emotionally. He’s gotten busy, and focused on “getting out” of his childhood circumstances, but he has memories of belonging that are good. “[S]ome part of me I can’t get rid of thinks, ‘If I’m not the smartest, if I’m not the first, everywhere I go, they’ll figure out I’m not supposed to be here.’ They’ll send me back. … When I came home, that last Christmas I was in college, it was like… the rooms felt so small. It was so suffocating. But when I was standing on the stoop saying goodbye, my mom put her arms around me. That was the last time I ever felt at home.” (Foreman, “House Training”)
“Yeah?”
“Guess you can’t have stew now,” Foreman says sympathetically.
“Can have blend’d stew. Had a fried chicken smoothie one day.”
Foreman can feel his lip curling; Chase looks a little green. Wilson chuckles at them and points out, “Sweet shit gets old fast.”
Wilson’s jaw is wired shut at this point of the fic, and he has been on a liquid diet for 26 days.
He can imagine it’s true, but still. Liquid fried anything – ugh. Blended beef stew might not be too bad, though. Or even simply the broth base of Gran’s stew would be delicious. “Where’d we put your laptop?” he asks.
“What?” Wilson and Chase ask at the same time. Their expressions even match, and that’s weirder than Foreman wants to think about.
He repeats, “Laptop. I want to get my Gran’s stew recipe.”
“What, you have it in your email or something?” Chase asks.
Like he’s a woman, sharing recipes around. It’s on his cousin Tanisha’s family website. “Or something,” he replies, as Wilson gestures toward a table tucked into a corner. Chase obediently retrieves the computer.
(Masculinity rears its head again, hee.) I paid attention to the names I gave Foreman’s family members, as I didn’t want to be too White with the names nor go into stereotype. So, I used the names of Black people that I knew.
“Wireless?” Foreman asks as Wilson awkwardly punches in the password.
“Yep. Here ya go.”
This was written in 2007, so wi-fi (“wireless” as we sometimes called it back then) was not as ubiquitous as it is now. Foreman was confirming the laptop wasn’t tethered to the wall with a wired connection for internet.
Foreman sits on the side of the bed, careful not to jostle Wilson too much, and pulls the computer onto his lap. Wilson draws his legs back, and Chase drops into the vacant spot and leans over Foreman’s shoulder.
As Foreman pulls up the website, intellectually he thinks that three men sitting on a bed together is odd and ought to be uncomfortable. But it’s not. It’s probably the Foreman family site that’s doing it – bringing up good memories of sleepover weekends with his cousins, piling into the same bed for warmth in the winter and to drive each other crazy with the heat in the summer. Good times.
I didn’t have any first or second cousins, but I had friends who did and pulled on their stories for this memory of Foreman’s. I do, however, remember very well that utilities are expensive when you’re lower-middle-class, and putting up with the cold or heat is one of a kid’s duties.
He clears his throat to get rid of phlegm that’s appeared for no reason and clicks through to the right page. “Here it is, Gran’s beef stew. Oh, and her greens, too. Those are great. Kim makes them every year at Thanksgiving. Or, I assume she still does; I haven’t, um, been in a while.” He looks back, and is surprised to see Wilson’s face so close. He pushes the laptop back in Wilson’s direction. “Here you go.”
“Greens” means collard greens, a staple of many African-American families’ cuisine.
Wilson eagerly pulls the laptop close and settles it on his lap. “Looks w’nnerful.” He sighs. “I’d love to make it.”
Surprised, Foreman shrugs. “Well, go ahead then. It’s not copyrighted. Although I think Gran’s third husband tried.”
“Your grandmother was a slut!” Chase pipes up chirpily, and Foreman’s ready to kill him.
This is a callback to a conversation Chase had with Foreman in a previous chapter of the fic, in which Chase insulted Foreman’s grandmother to make a justified point about how Foreman was acting. Here, Chase isn’t trying to be mean, but Foreman is still not having it.
“Hey, hey, now,” Wilson warns. Foreman nods to thank him, and then realizes Wilson’s probably defending his own serial marriages. Widowed three times over sixty years is substantially different from divorced three times before age forty, however. And with the poor health care black men generally have received, it was almost a given that a black woman of his grandmother's age would be widowed at a fairly young age –
Poor health care for Black men in the US is a fact, not an opinion, unfortunately. That’s why I felt it might be realistic for Foreman’s grandmother to have been widowed and then re-married more than once. My own grandmother was a hit with gentlemen in her senior years, and I pictured Foreman’s grandmother being equally as charming and loving.
I’m wondering now if “black” should be capitalized in that paragraph since it’s in Foreman’s point of view. Writing this today, I definitely would capitalize it in Foreman’s POV, but I don’t recall how things were in 2007.
While thinking about this, I’ve now read a few different articles, including this one released just today from the National Association of Black Journalists, that recommend everyone capitalizing when writing about Black people, Black communities, etc. Given that recommendation, I am capitalizing Black in this meta, and capitalizing White when referencing the White race. I still call myself lower-case white though, much as someone might have the ideal for themselves to be straight rather than Straight. My thinking on this will probably evolve over time.
“Sorry,” Chase says, breaking Foreman’s train of thought. Foreman turns to glare, but Chase is doing that big-eyed, soft-faced Don’t kick little innocent me thing. Bastard.
Foreman’s holding himself back from shoving Chase off the bed just to watch him drop when Wilson distracts him with a loud sigh. “Thanks, Foreman. Can’t make the rec’pe yet but I’ll save it.”
I think Foreman is still in “hanging out with his cousins” mode as he imagines “shoving Chase off the bed just to watch him drop.”
“Why can’t you make it?” Chase asks.
Wilson pats the sling on his left arm, then touches his clavicle once. “Too hard t’chop with one arm.”
“There you go!” Chase says eagerly and bounces off the bed. “That’s what we can help you with. We chop, you cook.”
“Nah,” Wilson replies, but it’s wistful.
“Foreman?” Chase prompts.
“Sure, why not? As long as we can take some home with us.” He ignores the faintly disapproving look on Chase’s face in favor of the smile spreading across Wilson’s.
Foreman is getting more comfortable now, although still as practical as always. Chase thinks Foreman’s being a bit selfish wanting to take some of the food home, but Wilson wouldn’t be quite as happy if he wasn’t going to get to feed Foreman and Chase at the end.
“Will you go get the ’ngred’ents? I should get some rest now anyway.”
Five minutes later they’re out the door on the way to Foreman’s grocery store, shopping list downloaded to his phone. There’s a butcher down the street that he’s heard is good; they’ll pick up the beef there.
See how they’re going to Foreman’s grocery store? He trusts himself to know the best, more than he trusts anyone else.
Chase yammers the whole time about this and that, and some of it’s amusing and some Foreman tunes out. They manage to hit the produce section just as new stock’s being laid out, so the vegetables are fresh, and there are fresh-baked loaves at the bakery, too. Foreman’s not much of a cook generally, but he’s actually looking forward to this. Gran would be proud. Surprised, but proud.
Climbing out of the car in front of House’s, Chase frets that they might interrupt Wilson’s nap if they go back in too soon. “We’ll be quiet,” Foreman replies, trying not to roll his eyes.
Foreman does not believe in babying anyone!
Their hushed entry doesn’t wake Wilson up, but it does make him drop his phone and fumble for the remote. “– not your baby!” screeches out of the television before the screen goes blank.
Pinking slightly, Wilson retrieves his cell and says a hurried, “See ya later,” to whomever – House – is on the line.
“Jes flippin’ channels,” Wilson tries to explain as Foreman and Chase pass by on their way to the kitchen. They trade amused smiles and start unpacking the groceries.
It was established in an earlier chapter that Wilson and House both watch the soap General Hospital every day. This chapter, set two days later in fic time, is probably the first time they watched together while on the phone -- Wilson called House to give him an update on Chase & Foreman and the show happened to come on. Foreman hadn’t known before this that Wilson watched soaps, but he is able to put two and two together, remember?
The next half-hour is filled with peeling, chopping, and mixing. Foreman thought Wilson was relaxed before as they were playing Risk, but here, with the smell of fresh food and seasonings rising all around them, Wilson is truly in his element. He guides them through all the steps; gently corrects any mistakes; seasons, stirs, and samples.
As the soup is simmering, they kick back with beers and fruit juice, and Foreman finds himself telling them stories about when he was young. About his Gran, who was an excellent cook, and his Nana, who was most definitely not, and his mother, who could bake like no one else.
I’d established that Gran had good recipes, so it amused me to think of Foreman’s other grandmother being a terrible cook (like my mom and her moms and aunts were). Then I wanted to bring Foreman’s mother in without her upstaging Gran, so I made her a top-notch baker.
It’s probably just the soup steaming up the kitchen, but Foreman hasn’t felt this warm in a while. He thinks maybe he’ll call Tanisha tonight, or Rodney or Bill, and see how they’re doing.
Oh, Foreman; even in his own mind he’d rather ascribe warmth to a physical reason than an emotional one. Still, he’s feeling good enough to reconnect with his cousins. Rodney is Foreman’s dad’s name, according to canon, and I liked thinking it was a family name, so at least one cousin in Foreman’s generation has the name too. PS. This was 2007, when calling people on the phone was still the primary way to get in touch with them.
He wouldn’t have imagined that House owned Tupperware, but when it’s time to go, Wilson manages to scare up two big bowls from somewhere so Chase and Foreman can each take some of the stew home.
“It smells exactly like Gran’s,” Foreman says as his farewell, and when Wilson smiles, Foreman can see his whole, healthy face behind the bruises, bumps, and wires.
There’s Foreman complimenting Wilson, and Wilson appreciating it. A great note to end on.
So, that was one of my forays into Foreman’s point of view. My approach was, in general, the same as my approach to the other House characters: 1) use canon as my guide, 2) find commonalities I have with the character to expand beyond canon comfortably, 3) draw upon other experience or knowledge to extrapolate additional details; 4) be open to feedback from others who know the character’s culture(s) better than I do. Oh and 5) leave the character in settings I feel that I can write knowledgeably. I’ve written a lot in Wilson POV, but I don’t write about him going to temple because I don’t have enough experience in that setting to make it realistic at all.
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