damigella: (sad_thoughtful_wilson)
[personal profile] damigella
Drabble Prologue
Chapter 1, warnings, and stuff.
Chapter 2

"So now you know. I'm terribly sorry. I never thought he could... they could..."

He didn't finish the sentence, but Wilson nodded briefly, then seemed lost in thought for a while. House waited anxiously for his reaction. Although whatever Wilson was going to say couldn't possibly make him feel worse than he already did.

"House, you did nothing wrong. In fact, you refused to break the law. You shouldn't feel guilty." He paused. "But it's good that you do, because I need you to testify against Mendelsohn."

They were sitting at either end of the couch, but this sentence alone was enough to make House painfully aware of the distance between them. A distance due to his having been in jail, having experienced first hand the power of people like Mendelsohn, the meaninglessness of the law.

"I'm deeply grateful that you got me out, but this is too dangerous for both of us. I can't do that."

"It seems the only way to keep you out of the suspect list."

"They can't punish me for something I haven't done."

House was not sure he was completely convincing. Or sincere.

"Fine. Forget about that. I want that criminal to be punished for what he did to me, and I need your help for that."

"Wilson, Mendelsohn has many friends outside. You only met three of them, and I think it was enough. If we accuse him we're both dead."

"Four of them. And if I don't try to stop him, I'll feel like an accomplice."

He had heard that Wilson had needed three units of blood, but it wasn't because of this that he was so pale now. His lips were pressed so thin as to be almost invisible, but his eyes were steady, and finally it was House that had to lower his gaze.

"Wilson, this is insane."

What could he do to make him understand?

"No. What happened to me because of bringing you some groceries is insane."

"Wilson, it's all my fault. Just stop visiting me and you'll be safe."

"You don't understand, House, do you? I tried crying, tried offering them money, tried telling them I wasn't your boyfriend, and they didn't care. When I said I might bleed to death from the knife wound in my arm the one behind me laughed and said 'You're bleeding from your ass, too. Makes you nice and slick.' They could be doing it to a child next time. It's not your fault, and I want him, them, in jail. For a very long time."

Nonsense. This was all his fault of course. If only he hadn't made Mendelsohn angry. Better yet, he should not have resumed his friendship with Wilson. He was an ex-convict. What right did he have to involve a honest man in criminal business? And, of course, if he hadn't driven into Cuddy's place...

"House. Will you do it?"

There was so much pure pain in his friend's face that House didn't feel able to say no.

"I... I will. But think about it, please. No rash decisions."

"I don't think I'll be able to think of anything else for a very long time."


"What happened?"

Wilson had arrived at work almost three hours late, and hadn't even pretended to go to this office. Instead he had barged into House's with an expression that had prompted his team to leave while he hung up his coat. Six days had passed since they had spoken with the police, a higher-level inspector that was extremely interested in finally putting an end to Mendelsohn's career.

"Here, have a look."

House's first thought at the sight of the printed photo was that the burned remains of the Volvo had a certain sinister elegance the original car never had. Unfortunately, it was immediately followed by a second.

"Wilson... it was a message. The next time they won't just burn your property."

"I'm scared, too. But I have to do what is right. I've been to the police already."

"Why? You're just a regular guy that ended up involved in a deal inside a prison. It's very unlikely this will ever happen again, to you or to anyone else. Normally Mendelsohn would have gotten his vengeance on me directly."

Wilson snapped, and shouted his answer. All activity in the orthopedy room near House's ceased, and most people didn't even try to hide the fact they were listening.

"And this would be better how? You're an ex-convict, House, but you're still a human being. Even murderers have a right not to be raped, not to be physically harmed. Being a prisoner doesn't change anyone's fundamental rights."

"It does. Every time I look at the anklet, it's as if I was back in there. You don't know what it's like, Wilson. Jail makes you feel an animal, or at least a very inferior race. A slave. Knowing that everyone there has power over you... you'd do anything, accept anything. Prison's there to break you."

He shivered at the recollection. Sometimes he felt that the lack of physical privacy alone had been enough to change him forever. But how could he explain to Wilson the deep meaning of a bathroom door?

"This is crazy. You need to see a therapist."

"Not that I'd want to, but I can't anyway. Because I don't want one within PPTH and I can't go anywhere else. Plus, I can't afford one."

Wilson stood up. He was obviously frightened, but the stubborness was stronger than the fear.

"I should go to work now. I'll see you this evening, maybe I can come with you and then borrow your car to drive home."


The moment House opened the door he knew why his key had mysteriously vanished after lunch and only reappeared on his desk about three hours later. Also why Wilson had insisted on accompanying him to his own door, under pretext of asking his opinion on a particular case.

"I do like black leather, but I still want my own couch back."

"It was stained with vomit, House. Plus, this has a real bed in it."

"You bought a design couch for that? I haven't had a guest overnight since I came back."

The word prison hovered in the air, but this time no one was strong enough to speak it aloud.

"I'm actually planning to move in here for a while, if it's okay with you. I'll pay rent, too."

"Wilson, this is the craziest thing you've said in a long while."

"It's just practical. I am doing all your shopping as is, so I would save time, and we can both use your car so I wouldn't need a new one. I can rent out the condo and use the money to pay you rent and for a therapist who does home calls."

"I don't need therapy."

"You do, but I can't force you. No, the therapist's for me. I've been having nightmares since the assault, but today I got my first panic attack."

Wilson lowered his voice, looked pointedly at his immaculate shoes.

"At least there's always a police car near here. I'm afraid of being home alone."

House wasn't even sure he had heard the last sentence right. Maybe he just imagined it, it seemed so nonsensical.
Anonymous( )Anonymous This account has disabled anonymous posting.
OpenID( )OpenID You can comment on this post while signed in with an account from many other sites, once you have confirmed your email address. Sign in using OpenID.
Account name:
If you don't have an account you can create one now.
HTML doesn't work in the subject.


Notice: This account is set to log the IP addresses of everyone who comments.
Links will be displayed as unclickable URLs to help prevent spam.


damigella: (Default)

November 2011

  123 45
678910 1112
131415 1617 1819
202122 23242526

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 19th, 2017 10:35 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios