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Title: I Should Have Known (post limit induced part 2)
Pairing: House+Wilson Wilson/Amber
Author: alanwolfmoon
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: AU in that Amber isn't dead, focuses on abuse from her.
Summary: House notices a bruise on Wilson's shoulder. Goes from there.
Disclaimer: MINE! ALL MINE!....uh, no. Not mine.
Feedback: Reviews and flames are welcome. (They make it look like I'm writing fast)
Notes: Second part. story didn't fit in one post.
Pairing: House+Wilson Wilson/Amber
Author: alanwolfmoon
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: AU in that Amber isn't dead, focuses on abuse from her.
Summary: House notices a bruise on Wilson's shoulder. Goes from there.
Disclaimer: MINE! ALL MINE!....uh, no. Not mine.
Feedback: Reviews and flames are welcome. (They make it look like I'm writing fast)
Notes: Second part. story didn't fit in one post.
T
A while later, Wilson was sitting on the couch, finally allowing House to give him a thorough examination.
“House?”
“Yeah, that hurt?”
“No... just... can we talk?”
“Uh... I'd rather not....”
“Please?”
“About you or about me?”
“Both.”
A long silence.
“I guess.”
“Thanks.”
Another silence.
“Well?”
“I don't know how to start.”
“Oh.”
....
....
....
“My dad. When I was a kid. Just got angry really easy, lost control. Even when he was really mad, he never *thought* he was going to hurt me, at least when I was little. He was just this huge marine and I was this scrawny little kid. Didn't stop till I left home, I never told anybody, even mom. Said I'd fallen out of trees, or got in fights at school, neither of which were really difficult lies, since I did enough of both. He wanted me to be a marine, or if I didn't cut it for the marines as far as he was concerned, a sniper or ranger or something. Ended up paying for college teaching at a local gun range, thanks to that. Oddly enough, he didn't find the irony funny. Graduation day was a real blast, spent most of it hiding in a cabinet in the lab, cus even though only students were allowed in the building, he kept asking people to go find me. But I think mom talked to him about it... they helped me pay for med school, still worked at the a gun range, at least till I got kicked out of Hopkins. Then they stopped paying and I had to move, but I got a full scholarship, so that was ok. I thought he'd be ok with it, didn't watch out.”
He wasn't looking at Wilson anymore, looking away, towards the wall but not at it.
“Cuddy probably remembers, given I was her first ever patient. Spent most of the night coughing blood all over her dorm. Told her I got into a fight. Don't think she really believed me, since I didn't look like I'd fought back much, but she never said anything. Mom stopped leaving us alone together after that, I found out she'd known all the time, just hoped we'd work through it, and was kind of scared to do anything. I don't blame her at all, I never asked her to do anything, and I was freaked enough myself to understand her being scared.”
“You... you never told anyone.”
“Never. The whole 'it's shameful' thing. Thinking back on it, I should have told someone. But I still had hope. Pathetic as that is, I suppose. Though I did tell rape girl the general, one-sentence description. Got her to talk.”
Wilson sat in silence for a long time, and House managed to finish the exam.
“House as an optimist about people. That's something I'm having trouble imagining.”
“Yeah, well, all that kind of kicked the optimism out of me. Your turn, by the way.”
....
....
....
“She... she doesn't mean it. It just happens, she get angry, or frustrated, and if I'm standing in the wrong place....”
“How long?”
“A few months.” said Wilson, putting his hand to his forehead, “I'm sorry, can I lie down? I'll keep talking, just....”
“Yeah.”
House scooted over so Wilson had some room to lie down.
“Thank you....”
House snorted, as Wilson drifted off before recovering from the light-headedness, but didn't wake the younger doctor. Wilson needed the rest.
A few hours later, Wilson opened his eyes to find House snoring on the couch, curled up on the seat overlapping Wilson's legs by a good bit, so his head was resting on Wilson's thigh.
House looked remarkably cute like that.
“House?”
House grunted a little, pressing his nose further into Wilson's pants.
Wilson smiled and closed his eyes.
If House hadn't minded him sleeping, he didn't mind House sleeping.
Three hours after that, they had eaten lunch, Wilson had finished telling his side, and had fallen asleep against his friend again, making House feel about half awkward, half touched.
Eventually House fell asleep too, and six PM brought Cuddy's arrival and subsequent discovery of both of them leaning against each other, half covered by the couch blanket. Two grown men sleeping on a couch should not have looked that cute. It just wasn't fair.
She left them where they were, snoring and drooling comfortably, and went into the kitchen to microwave the food she had brought to supplement House's rather pathetic cooking skills.
As she leaned over, holding a plate of food in front of their noses, Cuddy noticed a yellow bruise on Wilson's arm. She withdrew the plate, and tugged his sleeve up a little more. She looked up at their faces, and found House awake, confirming her suspicion with a regretful look and a mouthed 'Amber'.
Cuddy bit her lip, nodding, and went to shake Wilson's shoulder, playful mood rather ruined by the revelation.
“Don't. Not that shoulder.”
Cuddy stopped, looking at him.
“He let you do an exam?”
House nodded.
Cuddy sighed, and gently patted Wilson on the cheek.
He started awake, looking around wildly for a moment before recognizing his surroundings and company.
“Hey, Wilson.” said Cuddy, quietly, “I brought food, I know House couldn't cook if his life depended on it. Which is ironic, because you'd think it actually would.”
Wilson smiled a little.
Cameron blinked down at the message on her phone.
'Need you do xam. B ready for shock. Not good kind. Tie hair up b4 come.'
Cameron thought for a moment. It was from House, so it could well have been a joke. Also, House was no longer her boss, and she no longer had any obligation to answer his pages. But then again... there was no joking quality to that message.
“Come in.” said House, hearing the knock on the exam room door.
Cameron pushed it open, and blinked, seeing Wilson sitting on the table.
“Is something wrong?”
“Um...” Wilson looked away.
House looked at her, seriously, completely without humor.
“Here. You'll need these.”
She took them. They were police report forms. For abuse.
She looked up at Wilson.
He was looking at the floor, beet red.
She looked at House.
He nodded.
Cameron closed her eyes, took a moment to calm down, and opened them again.
“Ok.”
She blinked.
In the time she had had her eyes closed, Wilson had been forced to lie down on the table, hand touching his forehead, pale.
Cameron waited until he was able to open his eyes again before asking him to unbutton his shirt.
Wilson did, closing his eyes after giving Cameron a brief, reassuring smile.
Cameron gently pressed on the bruises, and made notes of what she found. She checked the rest of him, biting her lip to keep what she was feeling about this hidden.
She finished with the first part, then asked Wilson to sit up again so she could go over his back.
He did, but House had to catch him under the armpits to keep him from falling forward off the table, too dizzy to sit upright.
They eventually managed to get that part of the exam done by having Wilson lean forward against House's chest, while House sat on a high stool so his leg wouldn't have to take the extra weight.
“Alright. You can put your shirt back on, but I need you to take off your pants.” said Cameron, not blushing at all.
Wilson was, though, and House snickered.
Wilson glared at him, but House didn't seem to notice. Cameron was glad that *that*, at least, hadn't been affected.
“Ok. I'm done, you can get dressed again. I'll meet you for x-rays in half an hour?”
“Thank you, Cameron. I'm sorry if this made you uncomfortable.” said Wilson.
Cameron shook her head, “No, it's fine.”
She smiled at Wilson, and left the room. She had had to get more sheets of paper, there hadn't been enough room to list Wilson's injuries on. And they hadn't even been to radiology yet.
House glanced at Wilson, lying back as he gingerly pulled his pants on, and followed Cameron out the door.
“Why me? Wouldn't it have been less uncomfortable for him if it had been Chase, or Foreman?”
House shook his head, “I asked you for the simple reason that you are basically incapable of not caring deeply about whatever you're doing, as well as incapable of not communicating that care, no matter how uncomfortable you are. Which I hate, actually, but I figured Wilson would be happier for it. Chase and Foreman wouldn't have been able to be that nice while being that shocked.”
Cameron blinked after him, as he limped back into the exam room.
Wilson was standing, hand on the exam table, blinking rapidly.
House took his right elbow with his left hand, and Wilson hesitantly stepped away from the table.
Cameron had just gone to leave, when she heard a double thump, and a call of her name.
She walked back into the exam room, blinking at what she found there.
Wilson appeared to have passed out. On top of House. Who didn't seem able to push the other man off.
Cameron knelt, gently rolling the oncologist off his friend.
“Are you ok, House?” she asked, looking upset.
“Yeah.” grunted House, sitting up, “Just fine.”
He scooted himself over to Wilson, gently slapping the younger doctor's cheek.
“Wilson. Wake up. Come on, don't do this, kay? Then Cam'll have to see me not being a total bastard, right?”
Cameron smiled, shaking her head.
Wilson groaned, opening his eyes.
“Oh... ow... ow, I think I hurt my wrist.”
House sighed, nodding to Cameron, who helped Wilson to his feet.
House stood, just in time to help Cameron keep Wilson from falling again.
“Dammit... it hasn't been this bad for days....” he muttered, carefully ducking under Wilson's sore left arm as Cameron ducked under the right.
“Is this anemia from blood loss, problems from trauma, or just plain exhaustion?”
“Exhaustion and anemia. Mostly just exhaustion.”
“Oh.”
Cameron and House eventually got Wilson into a chair, then transferred him into a wheelchair, and Cameron pushed him to radiology—House had difficulty pushing and walking at the same time.
Wilson didn't say much, just kept his head down and tried to avoid meeting anyone's eyes.
They passed the diagnostics department on the way, and House ducked into his office to get Wilson the 'gravedigger' hat he kept in a desk drawer.
Wilson looked distinctly grateful for the hat.
As they reached radiology, they found Cuddy standing in the doorway, looking upset.
“The police want to talk to you.”
Wilson blinked.
“What for?”
Cuddy shook her head, “Not you. House.”
House looked at Cuddy.
Then he glanced at Wilson and Cameron.
“Ok. Good luck.”
Wilson nodded, and House limped down the hall after Cuddy.
As soon as they were around the corner, Cuddy stopped, and turned to face him.
He blinked.
“What?”
“I filed a police report twenty years ago.”
House blinked at her.
“Ok... somebody steal your purse?”
“Seventeen years, three months, to be exact.”
House tilted his head. Then his eyes widened.
“I told you that--”
“Mark granger hit like a twelve year old girl and he was completely sober. He didn't even go to the party that night, I know because he was sleeping with the sally Rogers in the dorm next to mine and I could hear them going at it all night long. You got into a 'bar fight' every time your parents came to visit, I'm not an idiot, House. I know you told me not to file a report but I hated seeing it happen, so I filed one.”
House sighed.
“So what do they want to talk about?”
“You know what statistics say, House. About tendencies in abuse cases.”
House stared at her.
“They think that *I*--”
“They just have to ask you a few questions.”
“They wouldn't be considering it if you hadn't tattled!”
“I know, House. I'm sorry. I was trying to protect you.”
“Well, yeah, that worked out really well, didn't it!”
Cuddy flinched.
“House, I was twenty-three years old and scared about what might happen to you! I'm sorry I didn't think about the possibility of this happening twenty years later to someone who was at that time in a different country, who I had never met, never heard of, never knew existed, and certainly had no way of knowing that they would become your best friend and get abused by their girlfriend!”
House stared at her for a long time.
Then he sighed, fidgeting with a vicodin bottle he pulled out of his pocket.
“Whatever.” it was as much of an apology for the yelling as Cuddy was going to get, so she accepted it.
“It's ok.”
By the time House got to radiology, Cameron was rather awkwardly trying to help the unfortunate oncologist onto the x-ray table.
House ducked under Wilson's good arm, helping lift.
“What was that about?” asked Cameron, getting a pillow because Wilson looked like he was going to pass out.
“Wanted to know if I knew Amber personally or not.”
“Oh.”
House lifted the now sleeping Wilson's head, and Cameron put the pillow under it.
“He really isn't doing very well, is he?”
House shook his head.
“No. he's not.”
House limped away, to stand behind the radiation shield wall.
Cameron put the lead apron over Wilson, then came to join him.
“Are you doing ok with this?”
House shrugged tiredly, sitting down in the single chair.
“Being the less crippled one is kind of a change. But... at least he's there bugging me, not with her.”
Cameron stared at him. Had he seriously just given he a straight, truthful, non-evasive, non-misanthropic answer?
She walked out, gently repositioning the still sleeping oncologist for the next x-ray.
A few hours later, House was sitting sideways on the couch, Wilson curled up against his chest—the younger doctor had had several bad dreams that had caused House to break the touching barrier yet again—when a knock sounded on the door.
“If you've got a key, come in, if you don't, there's a reason!”
“It's me, House.” Cameron? What the hell was she doing here? oh... oh, crap. House had let her play nice supportive doctor, and know she couldn't stop.
He gently edged out from under Wilson, and limped to the door.
“What?” he snapped, opening it.
Cameron held out a sling.
“The x-rays and exam showed a large amount of injury to his shoulder. It'll heal a lot faster with a sling.”
“There is no way that's the only reason you're here.”
She shrugged.
“True. I'm also here to drop off the groceries Cuddy couldn't drop off because she had to go deal with the board and the fact that Wilson has missed three meetings in a row.”
She held out the bag.
House blinked at her.
“Uh, oh.”
She smiled, shaking her head, “I'm not gonna barge in. Wilson's safe from any caring overdoses.”
House snickered.
Cameron turned to go.
“Uh, Cam... thanks.”
She blinked at him briefly, then smiled, and nodded.
“You're welcome. Good luck to Wilson. And you.”
House nodded, and she left.
House scratched the back of his head for a moment, then limped back into the apartment carrying the sling and the bag of groceries.
“Hey.” he said softly, sitting down next to Wilson on the couch, “Cam said your shoulder's more messed up than I thought. She brought this.”
He handed Wilson the sling.
Wilson looked quietly at it, then at House.
“Why are you taking care of me?”
House shrugged.
“Cus of all those times I puked and fell on you.”
Wilson smiled a little, tiredly.
“That's the whole reason?”
House shrugged again, “That, and you can't make pancakes if you're dead or hospitalized.”
Wilson looked at him, blinking.
House looked away, uncomfortable.
Wilson knew him better than to think that sentence had really had anything to do with pancakes.
Wilson hesitantly reached over with his right hand, touching the side of House's face.
House looked at him, startled.
“Thank you, House.”
House actually blushed.
Wilson smiled a little, blinking.
House recognized the blinking as meaning that Wilson was about to pass out, and gently guided his friend down, so he was curled on the couch with his head resting on House's right hip.
“Get some rest, kay?”
Wilson nodded tiredly, closing his eyes.
House watched him fall asleep, the lines and pain-creases that hadn't been there a few months ago smoothing out, leaving Wilson's face relaxed and beau—
House cut off his last thought, but still allowed himself to gently trace a finger over Wilson's face.
Wilson being in this condition, so weak and battered that he could barely walk, scared the living crap out of him.
“I'm fine. I haven't seen my patients in two weeks. I need to go to work.”
House glared at him.
Then he started pacing.
Then he stopped, looking at Wilson.
“One condition.”
“What is it?”
“Thirteen stays in there with you, pretends to be a intern or something.”
“Why Thirteen?”
“Taub looks too old, Foreman looks too confidant, Kutner doesn't know the meaning of the word serious, and Chase and Cameron aren't my pawns anymore.”
Wilson looked at him for a while, then sighed, nodding.
“Ok.”
House nodded, sitting back down next to him and un-pausing the tivo.
A day later, Amber was in jail, and Thirteen and Wilson were both hospitalized—though Thirteen was being released that afternoon, having been admitted more out of a panic than an actual need for medical attention.
House was sitting on a chair next to Wilson's hospital bed, holding his hand and waiting.
Cuddy came in, hesitantly touching him on the shoulder.
He jumped, looking at her.
“Oh,” he said, calming and looking back at Wilson.
“Thirteen's going to be fine.”
“Good.”
Wilson shifted a little in his sleep, face creasing with pain as he did.
House stood, gently lifting his friend's head and rearranging the pillows, before sitting back down.
Cuddy watched him sadly.
She could see how hard it was for him to just sit there, not able to do anything but let his friend rest.
She wondered how hard it was for him to not go find Amber in jail and punch the lights out of her.
Wilson groaned a little, turning his head towards House.
House stood again, softly touching the side of Wilson's bruised face, blue eyes fixed on the lids over the large brown ones.
Cuddy left—House didn't need an audience for this.
Wilson sniffed a little, opening his eyes.
He blinked several times, as something soft, slightly wet, and scratchy around the edges pressed against his forehead.
House's head raised off of his, and he smiled a little, reaching out with his right hand.
House took the hand, sighing as he watched the younger doctor.
Wilson slowly and painfully started trying to sit, and House quickly handed him the bed control, sighing as Wilson did.
Wilson looked at him.
“I'm sorry. You were right, I should have stayed home longer.”
House shook his head, squeezing Wilson's hand.
“It's ok. Just... get some rest, ok? Just rest.”
Wilson blinked at him, frowning a little bit.
Then he realized.
“House, it's not your fault. Not in the least.”
House sighed, shaking his head.
“You should have died.”
Wilson looked at him strangely.
“You should....” House faltered.
Wilson's expression cleared and softened.
“No, you shouldn't have. Shhh. It's not your fault. It's not.”
House looked at him, shaking where he stood.
Wilson reached up, tugging on House's shoulder.
“Get down here, you insufferably tall person.”
House leaned over, and Wilson pulled him close.
“It's not your fault.” he repeated, good arm wrapped firmly around House's back, “It's not. You couldn't have known.”
“I knew.”
“You couldn't have known.”
“But I *did*!”
“You knew that it was possible. So did I. I also knew that I wasn't going to lock the door between patients. You didn't know that. You would have yelled at me if you knew that, for the exact reason that it could have allowed something like this to happen.”
Nothing happened for a long moment.
Then House squeezed him gently, head resting on Wilson's good shoulder.
“Thanks.”
“All I did was tell you the truth.”
House raised his head a little, smiling a tiny smile, “thanks.”
Wilson smiled back, gently brushing House's hair out of the older doctor's face.
House lent forward, gently pressing his lips against Wilson's.
They both froze.
House stood straight upright, turning his back to Wilson, so all the younger doctor could see of his emotions was the clenched fists at his sides.
“House. Turn around.”
House did, slowly and jerkily.
Wilson reached up, grabbed House's shirt collar with all the strength he could muster—which wasn't much—and tugged.
House leaned forward, blinking.
“Why did you never say that?” asked Wilson, staring up at him.
House swallowed.
“I didn't want it to be awkward.”
Wilson just shook his head, pulling House down further so he could reach the older doctor's lips with his own.
“You idiot. It wouldn't have been awkward. It would have been wonderful.”
“I had no way of knowing that.”
“I know. I just wish you had taken the chance.”
“Not a big risk taker.”
Wilson smiled.
“I know.” his expression softened, “Thank you. And I'm sorry. I know you were worried.”
“Me? Worried? Ha!”
Wilson smiled a little, shaking his head at House's typical antics. He was just glad House was comfortable enough to joke.
A while later, Wilson was sitting on the couch, finally allowing House to give him a thorough examination.
“House?”
“Yeah, that hurt?”
“No... just... can we talk?”
“Uh... I'd rather not....”
“Please?”
“About you or about me?”
“Both.”
A long silence.
“I guess.”
“Thanks.”
Another silence.
“Well?”
“I don't know how to start.”
“Oh.”
....
....
....
“My dad. When I was a kid. Just got angry really easy, lost control. Even when he was really mad, he never *thought* he was going to hurt me, at least when I was little. He was just this huge marine and I was this scrawny little kid. Didn't stop till I left home, I never told anybody, even mom. Said I'd fallen out of trees, or got in fights at school, neither of which were really difficult lies, since I did enough of both. He wanted me to be a marine, or if I didn't cut it for the marines as far as he was concerned, a sniper or ranger or something. Ended up paying for college teaching at a local gun range, thanks to that. Oddly enough, he didn't find the irony funny. Graduation day was a real blast, spent most of it hiding in a cabinet in the lab, cus even though only students were allowed in the building, he kept asking people to go find me. But I think mom talked to him about it... they helped me pay for med school, still worked at the a gun range, at least till I got kicked out of Hopkins. Then they stopped paying and I had to move, but I got a full scholarship, so that was ok. I thought he'd be ok with it, didn't watch out.”
He wasn't looking at Wilson anymore, looking away, towards the wall but not at it.
“Cuddy probably remembers, given I was her first ever patient. Spent most of the night coughing blood all over her dorm. Told her I got into a fight. Don't think she really believed me, since I didn't look like I'd fought back much, but she never said anything. Mom stopped leaving us alone together after that, I found out she'd known all the time, just hoped we'd work through it, and was kind of scared to do anything. I don't blame her at all, I never asked her to do anything, and I was freaked enough myself to understand her being scared.”
“You... you never told anyone.”
“Never. The whole 'it's shameful' thing. Thinking back on it, I should have told someone. But I still had hope. Pathetic as that is, I suppose. Though I did tell rape girl the general, one-sentence description. Got her to talk.”
Wilson sat in silence for a long time, and House managed to finish the exam.
“House as an optimist about people. That's something I'm having trouble imagining.”
“Yeah, well, all that kind of kicked the optimism out of me. Your turn, by the way.”
....
....
....
“She... she doesn't mean it. It just happens, she get angry, or frustrated, and if I'm standing in the wrong place....”
“How long?”
“A few months.” said Wilson, putting his hand to his forehead, “I'm sorry, can I lie down? I'll keep talking, just....”
“Yeah.”
House scooted over so Wilson had some room to lie down.
“Thank you....”
House snorted, as Wilson drifted off before recovering from the light-headedness, but didn't wake the younger doctor. Wilson needed the rest.
A few hours later, Wilson opened his eyes to find House snoring on the couch, curled up on the seat overlapping Wilson's legs by a good bit, so his head was resting on Wilson's thigh.
House looked remarkably cute like that.
“House?”
House grunted a little, pressing his nose further into Wilson's pants.
Wilson smiled and closed his eyes.
If House hadn't minded him sleeping, he didn't mind House sleeping.
Three hours after that, they had eaten lunch, Wilson had finished telling his side, and had fallen asleep against his friend again, making House feel about half awkward, half touched.
Eventually House fell asleep too, and six PM brought Cuddy's arrival and subsequent discovery of both of them leaning against each other, half covered by the couch blanket. Two grown men sleeping on a couch should not have looked that cute. It just wasn't fair.
She left them where they were, snoring and drooling comfortably, and went into the kitchen to microwave the food she had brought to supplement House's rather pathetic cooking skills.
As she leaned over, holding a plate of food in front of their noses, Cuddy noticed a yellow bruise on Wilson's arm. She withdrew the plate, and tugged his sleeve up a little more. She looked up at their faces, and found House awake, confirming her suspicion with a regretful look and a mouthed 'Amber'.
Cuddy bit her lip, nodding, and went to shake Wilson's shoulder, playful mood rather ruined by the revelation.
“Don't. Not that shoulder.”
Cuddy stopped, looking at him.
“He let you do an exam?”
House nodded.
Cuddy sighed, and gently patted Wilson on the cheek.
He started awake, looking around wildly for a moment before recognizing his surroundings and company.
“Hey, Wilson.” said Cuddy, quietly, “I brought food, I know House couldn't cook if his life depended on it. Which is ironic, because you'd think it actually would.”
Wilson smiled a little.
Cameron blinked down at the message on her phone.
'Need you do xam. B ready for shock. Not good kind. Tie hair up b4 come.'
Cameron thought for a moment. It was from House, so it could well have been a joke. Also, House was no longer her boss, and she no longer had any obligation to answer his pages. But then again... there was no joking quality to that message.
“Come in.” said House, hearing the knock on the exam room door.
Cameron pushed it open, and blinked, seeing Wilson sitting on the table.
“Is something wrong?”
“Um...” Wilson looked away.
House looked at her, seriously, completely without humor.
“Here. You'll need these.”
She took them. They were police report forms. For abuse.
She looked up at Wilson.
He was looking at the floor, beet red.
She looked at House.
He nodded.
Cameron closed her eyes, took a moment to calm down, and opened them again.
“Ok.”
She blinked.
In the time she had had her eyes closed, Wilson had been forced to lie down on the table, hand touching his forehead, pale.
Cameron waited until he was able to open his eyes again before asking him to unbutton his shirt.
Wilson did, closing his eyes after giving Cameron a brief, reassuring smile.
Cameron gently pressed on the bruises, and made notes of what she found. She checked the rest of him, biting her lip to keep what she was feeling about this hidden.
She finished with the first part, then asked Wilson to sit up again so she could go over his back.
He did, but House had to catch him under the armpits to keep him from falling forward off the table, too dizzy to sit upright.
They eventually managed to get that part of the exam done by having Wilson lean forward against House's chest, while House sat on a high stool so his leg wouldn't have to take the extra weight.
“Alright. You can put your shirt back on, but I need you to take off your pants.” said Cameron, not blushing at all.
Wilson was, though, and House snickered.
Wilson glared at him, but House didn't seem to notice. Cameron was glad that *that*, at least, hadn't been affected.
“Ok. I'm done, you can get dressed again. I'll meet you for x-rays in half an hour?”
“Thank you, Cameron. I'm sorry if this made you uncomfortable.” said Wilson.
Cameron shook her head, “No, it's fine.”
She smiled at Wilson, and left the room. She had had to get more sheets of paper, there hadn't been enough room to list Wilson's injuries on. And they hadn't even been to radiology yet.
House glanced at Wilson, lying back as he gingerly pulled his pants on, and followed Cameron out the door.
“Why me? Wouldn't it have been less uncomfortable for him if it had been Chase, or Foreman?”
House shook his head, “I asked you for the simple reason that you are basically incapable of not caring deeply about whatever you're doing, as well as incapable of not communicating that care, no matter how uncomfortable you are. Which I hate, actually, but I figured Wilson would be happier for it. Chase and Foreman wouldn't have been able to be that nice while being that shocked.”
Cameron blinked after him, as he limped back into the exam room.
Wilson was standing, hand on the exam table, blinking rapidly.
House took his right elbow with his left hand, and Wilson hesitantly stepped away from the table.
Cameron had just gone to leave, when she heard a double thump, and a call of her name.
She walked back into the exam room, blinking at what she found there.
Wilson appeared to have passed out. On top of House. Who didn't seem able to push the other man off.
Cameron knelt, gently rolling the oncologist off his friend.
“Are you ok, House?” she asked, looking upset.
“Yeah.” grunted House, sitting up, “Just fine.”
He scooted himself over to Wilson, gently slapping the younger doctor's cheek.
“Wilson. Wake up. Come on, don't do this, kay? Then Cam'll have to see me not being a total bastard, right?”
Cameron smiled, shaking her head.
Wilson groaned, opening his eyes.
“Oh... ow... ow, I think I hurt my wrist.”
House sighed, nodding to Cameron, who helped Wilson to his feet.
House stood, just in time to help Cameron keep Wilson from falling again.
“Dammit... it hasn't been this bad for days....” he muttered, carefully ducking under Wilson's sore left arm as Cameron ducked under the right.
“Is this anemia from blood loss, problems from trauma, or just plain exhaustion?”
“Exhaustion and anemia. Mostly just exhaustion.”
“Oh.”
Cameron and House eventually got Wilson into a chair, then transferred him into a wheelchair, and Cameron pushed him to radiology—House had difficulty pushing and walking at the same time.
Wilson didn't say much, just kept his head down and tried to avoid meeting anyone's eyes.
They passed the diagnostics department on the way, and House ducked into his office to get Wilson the 'gravedigger' hat he kept in a desk drawer.
Wilson looked distinctly grateful for the hat.
As they reached radiology, they found Cuddy standing in the doorway, looking upset.
“The police want to talk to you.”
Wilson blinked.
“What for?”
Cuddy shook her head, “Not you. House.”
House looked at Cuddy.
Then he glanced at Wilson and Cameron.
“Ok. Good luck.”
Wilson nodded, and House limped down the hall after Cuddy.
As soon as they were around the corner, Cuddy stopped, and turned to face him.
He blinked.
“What?”
“I filed a police report twenty years ago.”
House blinked at her.
“Ok... somebody steal your purse?”
“Seventeen years, three months, to be exact.”
House tilted his head. Then his eyes widened.
“I told you that--”
“Mark granger hit like a twelve year old girl and he was completely sober. He didn't even go to the party that night, I know because he was sleeping with the sally Rogers in the dorm next to mine and I could hear them going at it all night long. You got into a 'bar fight' every time your parents came to visit, I'm not an idiot, House. I know you told me not to file a report but I hated seeing it happen, so I filed one.”
House sighed.
“So what do they want to talk about?”
“You know what statistics say, House. About tendencies in abuse cases.”
House stared at her.
“They think that *I*--”
“They just have to ask you a few questions.”
“They wouldn't be considering it if you hadn't tattled!”
“I know, House. I'm sorry. I was trying to protect you.”
“Well, yeah, that worked out really well, didn't it!”
Cuddy flinched.
“House, I was twenty-three years old and scared about what might happen to you! I'm sorry I didn't think about the possibility of this happening twenty years later to someone who was at that time in a different country, who I had never met, never heard of, never knew existed, and certainly had no way of knowing that they would become your best friend and get abused by their girlfriend!”
House stared at her for a long time.
Then he sighed, fidgeting with a vicodin bottle he pulled out of his pocket.
“Whatever.” it was as much of an apology for the yelling as Cuddy was going to get, so she accepted it.
“It's ok.”
By the time House got to radiology, Cameron was rather awkwardly trying to help the unfortunate oncologist onto the x-ray table.
House ducked under Wilson's good arm, helping lift.
“What was that about?” asked Cameron, getting a pillow because Wilson looked like he was going to pass out.
“Wanted to know if I knew Amber personally or not.”
“Oh.”
House lifted the now sleeping Wilson's head, and Cameron put the pillow under it.
“He really isn't doing very well, is he?”
House shook his head.
“No. he's not.”
House limped away, to stand behind the radiation shield wall.
Cameron put the lead apron over Wilson, then came to join him.
“Are you doing ok with this?”
House shrugged tiredly, sitting down in the single chair.
“Being the less crippled one is kind of a change. But... at least he's there bugging me, not with her.”
Cameron stared at him. Had he seriously just given he a straight, truthful, non-evasive, non-misanthropic answer?
She walked out, gently repositioning the still sleeping oncologist for the next x-ray.
A few hours later, House was sitting sideways on the couch, Wilson curled up against his chest—the younger doctor had had several bad dreams that had caused House to break the touching barrier yet again—when a knock sounded on the door.
“If you've got a key, come in, if you don't, there's a reason!”
“It's me, House.” Cameron? What the hell was she doing here? oh... oh, crap. House had let her play nice supportive doctor, and know she couldn't stop.
He gently edged out from under Wilson, and limped to the door.
“What?” he snapped, opening it.
Cameron held out a sling.
“The x-rays and exam showed a large amount of injury to his shoulder. It'll heal a lot faster with a sling.”
“There is no way that's the only reason you're here.”
She shrugged.
“True. I'm also here to drop off the groceries Cuddy couldn't drop off because she had to go deal with the board and the fact that Wilson has missed three meetings in a row.”
She held out the bag.
House blinked at her.
“Uh, oh.”
She smiled, shaking her head, “I'm not gonna barge in. Wilson's safe from any caring overdoses.”
House snickered.
Cameron turned to go.
“Uh, Cam... thanks.”
She blinked at him briefly, then smiled, and nodded.
“You're welcome. Good luck to Wilson. And you.”
House nodded, and she left.
House scratched the back of his head for a moment, then limped back into the apartment carrying the sling and the bag of groceries.
“Hey.” he said softly, sitting down next to Wilson on the couch, “Cam said your shoulder's more messed up than I thought. She brought this.”
He handed Wilson the sling.
Wilson looked quietly at it, then at House.
“Why are you taking care of me?”
House shrugged.
“Cus of all those times I puked and fell on you.”
Wilson smiled a little, tiredly.
“That's the whole reason?”
House shrugged again, “That, and you can't make pancakes if you're dead or hospitalized.”
Wilson looked at him, blinking.
House looked away, uncomfortable.
Wilson knew him better than to think that sentence had really had anything to do with pancakes.
Wilson hesitantly reached over with his right hand, touching the side of House's face.
House looked at him, startled.
“Thank you, House.”
House actually blushed.
Wilson smiled a little, blinking.
House recognized the blinking as meaning that Wilson was about to pass out, and gently guided his friend down, so he was curled on the couch with his head resting on House's right hip.
“Get some rest, kay?”
Wilson nodded tiredly, closing his eyes.
House watched him fall asleep, the lines and pain-creases that hadn't been there a few months ago smoothing out, leaving Wilson's face relaxed and beau—
House cut off his last thought, but still allowed himself to gently trace a finger over Wilson's face.
Wilson being in this condition, so weak and battered that he could barely walk, scared the living crap out of him.
“I'm fine. I haven't seen my patients in two weeks. I need to go to work.”
House glared at him.
Then he started pacing.
Then he stopped, looking at Wilson.
“One condition.”
“What is it?”
“Thirteen stays in there with you, pretends to be a intern or something.”
“Why Thirteen?”
“Taub looks too old, Foreman looks too confidant, Kutner doesn't know the meaning of the word serious, and Chase and Cameron aren't my pawns anymore.”
Wilson looked at him for a while, then sighed, nodding.
“Ok.”
House nodded, sitting back down next to him and un-pausing the tivo.
A day later, Amber was in jail, and Thirteen and Wilson were both hospitalized—though Thirteen was being released that afternoon, having been admitted more out of a panic than an actual need for medical attention.
House was sitting on a chair next to Wilson's hospital bed, holding his hand and waiting.
Cuddy came in, hesitantly touching him on the shoulder.
He jumped, looking at her.
“Oh,” he said, calming and looking back at Wilson.
“Thirteen's going to be fine.”
“Good.”
Wilson shifted a little in his sleep, face creasing with pain as he did.
House stood, gently lifting his friend's head and rearranging the pillows, before sitting back down.
Cuddy watched him sadly.
She could see how hard it was for him to just sit there, not able to do anything but let his friend rest.
She wondered how hard it was for him to not go find Amber in jail and punch the lights out of her.
Wilson groaned a little, turning his head towards House.
House stood again, softly touching the side of Wilson's bruised face, blue eyes fixed on the lids over the large brown ones.
Cuddy left—House didn't need an audience for this.
Wilson sniffed a little, opening his eyes.
He blinked several times, as something soft, slightly wet, and scratchy around the edges pressed against his forehead.
House's head raised off of his, and he smiled a little, reaching out with his right hand.
House took the hand, sighing as he watched the younger doctor.
Wilson slowly and painfully started trying to sit, and House quickly handed him the bed control, sighing as Wilson did.
Wilson looked at him.
“I'm sorry. You were right, I should have stayed home longer.”
House shook his head, squeezing Wilson's hand.
“It's ok. Just... get some rest, ok? Just rest.”
Wilson blinked at him, frowning a little bit.
Then he realized.
“House, it's not your fault. Not in the least.”
House sighed, shaking his head.
“You should have died.”
Wilson looked at him strangely.
“You should....” House faltered.
Wilson's expression cleared and softened.
“No, you shouldn't have. Shhh. It's not your fault. It's not.”
House looked at him, shaking where he stood.
Wilson reached up, tugging on House's shoulder.
“Get down here, you insufferably tall person.”
House leaned over, and Wilson pulled him close.
“It's not your fault.” he repeated, good arm wrapped firmly around House's back, “It's not. You couldn't have known.”
“I knew.”
“You couldn't have known.”
“But I *did*!”
“You knew that it was possible. So did I. I also knew that I wasn't going to lock the door between patients. You didn't know that. You would have yelled at me if you knew that, for the exact reason that it could have allowed something like this to happen.”
Nothing happened for a long moment.
Then House squeezed him gently, head resting on Wilson's good shoulder.
“Thanks.”
“All I did was tell you the truth.”
House raised his head a little, smiling a tiny smile, “thanks.”
Wilson smiled back, gently brushing House's hair out of the older doctor's face.
House lent forward, gently pressing his lips against Wilson's.
They both froze.
House stood straight upright, turning his back to Wilson, so all the younger doctor could see of his emotions was the clenched fists at his sides.
“House. Turn around.”
House did, slowly and jerkily.
Wilson reached up, grabbed House's shirt collar with all the strength he could muster—which wasn't much—and tugged.
House leaned forward, blinking.
“Why did you never say that?” asked Wilson, staring up at him.
House swallowed.
“I didn't want it to be awkward.”
Wilson just shook his head, pulling House down further so he could reach the older doctor's lips with his own.
“You idiot. It wouldn't have been awkward. It would have been wonderful.”
“I had no way of knowing that.”
“I know. I just wish you had taken the chance.”
“Not a big risk taker.”
Wilson smiled.
“I know.” his expression softened, “Thank you. And I'm sorry. I know you were worried.”
“Me? Worried? Ha!”
Wilson smiled a little, shaking his head at House's typical antics. He was just glad House was comfortable enough to joke.
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*cries*
This was very lovely!
*beams at the world*
A beautiful conclusion to a
horriblyplausible story. :)*mems*
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that was excellent-thank you soooo much!
very in character-which is difficult with a situation like this, and a great plot with a rarely seen ailment for wilson!
i adored it!
<3
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Thanks for sharing!