Wilson's Life, Chapter 5

[damigella]

Title: Wilson's Life
Spoilers: Season 7 Ep 18: AU after that.
Summary: Wilson thinks his problems are over when they're just beginning. A sequel to House's Liver. Since I'm a teacher at heart, in each chapter someone will learn something. Not necessarily the truth, or the whole truth. Seven Chapters.
Rating: M for suicidal ideas, adult themes and language, possible slash.
Word Count: ~11000 total.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the House, MD characters, which is good since I tend to kill them.
Acknowledgements: I used hwshipper 's timeline. Any merit must be shared with my patient, wonderful beta reader, George Stark II.

Chapter 5

Wilson learns something about House.

When they finished breakfast the next morning everything seemed normal: House slouched on the couch and started searching for interesting material on the TiVo while Wilson tidied up the kitchen. It was only when his friend sat near him and switched off the television set that House noticed that something was wrong. Wilson hadn't bothered blow drying and he didn't wear his work clothes, although so far his lack of a license hadn't prevented him from going to the ward and talking to his patients. He noticed it was almost ten o'clock. Where was Dominika?

"I'm not going to the hospital and Dominika will not come this morning. I told her we'd call if you wanted to see her in the afternoon." Wilson interrupted his train of thoughts. His voice had an unusual strength and self-assurance. "I need to talk to you now."

"What do you want?"

"I want to know what your plans are. For me. For us. I…you…" WIlson couldn't finish his sentence.

House couldn't help feeling a pang of guilt. "Do we really need to talk about this?"

Wilson stood facing him, his hands on his hips. And for the first time since House could remember, he didn't look ridiculous at all in this position. "Yes. I need to know, since in a few days my life as it has been until now will end."

"Since you threw that life away to save mine. Except, of course, you hadn't planned on getting caught, had you? Had you known what was going to happen, I would be in a tomb now and Dominika may or may not be Mrs. Wilson the fourth, depending on how carefully you decided to honor my memory." House couldn't help the bitter tone of his voice, and he didn't even try too hard. "You regret saving my life, despite the fact I never asked you to. You should have let me die. Better for everyone, myself included."

Before House could realize what was going on, Wilson was on his knees in front of him. He held his face with both his hands, forcing him to look straight into his eyes. "House. I do not regret what I did, and I never will."

Wilson wasn't crying. He wasn't explaining. He was just looking at House, and there was hope and trust in his eyes. Hope that his friend would accept his words. Trust that he would be believed. House was used to coaxing the truth out of a recalcitrant Wilson. But this time he didn't have to. Wilson was not lying.

Time stood still as House's brain worked. Wilson was not lying.

Slowly, tears started running on House's face. He didn't sob, in fact he was completely silent. Just the tears running down. He didn't move his hands to catch them. Wilson's hands gently left the sides of his face, wiped away the tears, then collected each new one as it started its downward journey. His eyes hadn't flinched, and neither had House's.

Finally, House moved. His arms slid below Wilson's armpits, pulled him higher and into a wordless embrace, each face pressing on the other's left shoulder.

*****

They still hadn't exchanged a word, but Wilson knew that something fundamental had changed. That this time, House believed him. He let himself sink in the warmth of the embrace and stopped thinking. Soon, House pushed him up, back to a normal sitting position. He moved himself so that there were a few inches between them. Wilson felt House's left hand moving towards him, his fingers threading with those of his right, holding tight. He almost forgot to breathe. He waited.

House had closed his eyes. "I did try sex with men when I was in college. Mostly because I was horny, and it was so absurdly easy to get. But I always liked it so much better with women."

Wilson couldn't help but wonder at how right Thirteen's perceptions were. Remy's perceptions.

"I didn't think I would find your physical nearness pleasant. When you touched me and held me…it felt unexpectedly good. I don't know how real it was. Maybe it was because I was dying. I was so drugged. And still, I couldn't stand the thought of touching Dominika afterward. I hadn't wanted to make love with her anyway after we got married, because I felt I already liked her too much. But then… I didn't even want to kiss her."

Wilson listened. He felt he was learning every word that came his way and he could repeat them all. Like he had them written in front of his eyes. He looked at them again, as House paused. Thought. Chose more words for him to hear.

"I…I really wanted you yesterday evening. But I was scared. Scared that I was taking advantage of you, in your vulnerable state. Scared that I would offer you what you wanted, only to snatch it away afterward. Scared that I would drive you insane. Drive you to your grave. Scared I would make implicit promises I couldn't keep."

House slowly turned towards him and opened his eyes, facing him, as Wilson had been facing his friend since the latter had started talking.

"I don't know whether I want to be with you, Wilson. There have been too many changes in my life since Cuddy left me. I don't take changes very well. Not even when I start them myself. I'm not ready for another change now. I'm sorry."

There was another long silence, as the two men looked at each other, holding hands. But Wilson felt that now the silence was friendly, not threatening. He let the words he had heard sink in, appreciated their truth, acknowledged their logic. And then House added some more words. "Please, don't kill yourself. Give me time. Time to thank you for saving my life."

*****

Dominika didn't know what to expect when the telephone rang. She was making herself some lunch. "Hi, Dominika. This is Wilson. Do you think you can come for a couple of hours this afternoon? I need to go and see someone."

She arrived as Wilson was ready to leave. She started quietly doing the usual household chores while her husband locked himself in the spare bedroom to make a very long phone call. She tried eavesdropping but it didn't quite work; he was talking in a low voice and very fast, alternating long speeches and long silences, probably corresponding to analogously long speeches from whoever he was talking to.

When he came out of the bedroom, forty minutes later, he looked pensive but hopeful. He sat on the couch and asked her for the remote, and he looked surprised to hear her talk uninvited, then almost angered by her words: "House, we've got to talk."

Dominika realized she hadn't been clear enough. "Not about me: about Wilson." She saw him immediately close his mouth, gulping down whatever he had started to say. "House, I've seen love in your face today."

*****

"Thanks for agreeing to meet me at such short notice."

Remy smiled encouragingly. Wilson looked exhausted. No wonder, with the process looming and, if the hospital's gossip was to be trusted, not a chance in hell of him ever having a license again.

"How are things with my boss?"

He passed a hand through his hair. "Could be worse, I guess. He actually…talked to me. About it."

She felt duly impressed. "He did. Did he says yes?"

"No. But he didn't say no, either. He said he needs time, and everything in his life changed too fast."

"That's for sure. His life has been quite a roller coaster recently."

"This time it's my fault. I told him I'd commit suicide if I lost my license."

Remy felt herself becoming pale. Then she extended one hand to hold his right one (his left was curled around the coffee mug). "I'm so sorry. Is it better now?"

Wilson sighed. "He made me promise to wait. I can't refuse, whatever he asks. But I can't imagine my life without medicine. Or without him." He looked apologetic. "I'm ashamed of myself, you know. I might throw away my life, and you're here in front of me, willing to fight even if you know you have no chance. I should learn from you."

"You shouldn't. I've been pretty self-destructive in the past. But try not to give up hope. Not until it is clear that all is lost. Focus on House, and try to forget the process. Enjoy the time together. At least you're both free from work now."

Later, Wilson thanked her as he left. She wondered whether she'd been completely honest about her own thoughts.

Comments

[chocolate-frapp.livejournal.com]

i saw her in some movie I happened to channel surf past on TV and she was doing the same thing.
I don't mind thinness as long as it isn't EXTREME thinness, for example Uma Thurman is skinny but she isn't so skinny as to look anorexic, she just looks athletic, and I think she's very attractive. and of course you KNOW how hot I think Hugh is and he's skinny but he has some muscle on him too, he doesn't look like a skeleton. i don't find mega skinny guys attractive any more than mega skinny women.

[damigella-314.livejournal.com]

Hugh isn't skinny, he's slender. And sizzling hot.

I think OW would be prettier with a bit more meat on her bones, but what I really like about her are the slightly slanted large eyes. A similar feature is shared by my husband, his mom, and one of my sons. I must admit each of this people displays regularly many more facial expression than the character of Thirteen.

[chocolate-frapp.livejournal.com]

Hugh is hotter than the sun.

[damigella-314.livejournal.com]

Hugh is hotter than the interior of the sun (you wouldn't want to have people all confused and think he's only as hot as the surface, LOL).