![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: Keep On Tryin'
Pairing: House+Wilson past
Author: alanwolfmoon
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: spoliers for s4 finale
Summary: Wilson left, House let him go. Foreman doesn't like that idea, and convinces House to go after Wilson. Who moved to North Vancouver. Canada.
Disclaimer: MINE! ALL MINE!....uh, no. Not mine.
Feedback: Reviews and flames are welcome. (They make it look like I'm writing fast)
Notes: Final chapter. 1 2 3 4 5
T
Cameron yawned, rubbing her eyes as she sat across from Foreman, helping him with the forms House had left undone when he flew off to Canada.
“Any news on how he’s doing?” she asked, glancing up from a form.
Foreman nodded, “apparently he took a little too much ibuprofen with a bit too little water. Ended up with three perforated ulcers. Apparently he collapsed right in front of Wilson.”
Cameron grimaced.
“Ouch. Do you know what Wilson did?”
“Called for a stretcher, acted like a doctor,” said Foreman, shrugging.
“Was he upset?”
“I don’t know. I’m getting this like fourth hand.”
Wilson sighed, opening his door.
“I have company.”
“Tim?”
“And Sarah. Who Tim invited without asking me.”
House snorted.
Wilson sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck.
“You look… better….”
House nodded, looking away.
“House, I… I’m glad you’re seeing Chang. I’m glad you’re trying to heal.”
“I’m not trying to do anything but get you to come back. I’m seeing Chang because Michaels is making me and Foreman recommended her.”
Wilson nodded, standing awkwardly in the doorway.
Snow was once again piling on House’s shoulders as they stood there.
“How did you get here?” he asked, frowning, “you’re not supposed to drive for another month.”
“Bus. Walked from the corner.”
“It’s icy.”
House looked at him.
“Yeah, well…. Noticed that….”
Wilson sighed, looking him over.
His coat was wet.
“You fall?”
House nodded, looking firmly in another direction.
“You… look cold.”
House shrugged.
“Call a cab.”
“Why?
Wilson sighed.
“Don’t hurt your head anymore than it already is by taking a careless chance.”
“Walking?”
Wilson nodded.
“Do you…”
“No. Just out of a basic respect for human life. Now leave.”
He shut the door in House’s face.
House swallowed, leaning against the wall next to the door, as he started hyperventilating.
It was bad this time… his vision was going dark….
Crinkling noises and something rough pressed itself to his face.
More crinkling noises.
He closed his eyes, trying to get his body under control.
It wasn’t working.
A hand lifted his and placed it around the paper bag, he heard the door close behind him.
There was no way he was going to get through this in time to catch the bus in five minutes, the bus after that wasn’t for an hour, and he didn’t have enough money for a cab.
His vision was going dark.
He grabbed his phone out of his pocket, dialed the second speed dial—the first being Wilson.
Ten minutes later, a dark red car pulled up, and Michaels got out.
House had managed to get to the end of Wilson’s sidewalk.
“Damn, House. Hold on.”
Michaels went back into the car, came back with a packet.
“Here.”
“What?” asked House, still struggling not to pass out.
“Benzodiapine.”
House shook his head, “it’ll pass.”
Michaels shrugged, putting the packet into his pocket and helping House too his feet.
“Don’t pass out on me, kay? I can’t carry your heavy ass.”
House nodded.
He passed out almost as soon as Michaels got him in the seat.
House groaned, opening his eyes.
A hand was resting on his shoulder, he was in an unfamiliar bed.
“Hey,” said Michaels, smirking a little, “you passed out. I got Nurse Darnel to help get you in here.”
“Where’s here?”
“My place.”
House nodded, looking around.
“Damn, House. Are you trying to scare me?”
House smirked a little, tiredly, “of course.”
Michaels rolled his eyes, gripping the edges of house's shirt.
“Don't make me see that again,” he said, kissing his moronic friend, “don't make me regret doing that.”
“That’s still going on?” asked House, voice cracking slightly.
Michaels pulled back, sighing.
“Is it?”
House flushed slightly.
Michaels smirked, just a little.
There… really wasn’t anything to stop this from happening… and… it felt right. It felt... good.
Then he blinked.
“I wouldn't have that far to search?” he said, echoing what Michaels had said that day he had been stuck in bed because of his leg.
Michaels smirked.
“You never were good at subtext, were you?”
Three days later, on a Tuesday morning, Wilson opened his door to find flowers there.
He frowned, picked them up. Probably Tim attempting a House-esque matchmaking with Sarah.
He read the card.
‘I’m Sorry.’
He sighed, shaking his head.
Wilson looked up, as House appeared next to him at his lunch table.
“Go away, House. Just go away.”
House swallowed, and sat down.
Wilson frowned.
Was House forcing… no, he just looked like he was going to pass out.
“You better not puke up blood again,” said Wilson, reaching across the table and gripping House’s wrist with the intention of checking his pulse.
House grabbed his arm.
He blinked.
House looked at him, utterly silent.
He looked… oh god….
He looked like the emotional stress, coupled with the pain, was about to push him over the edge.
Wilson pulled him to his feet, ducked under his arm, and got him the hell out of there.
By the time House was sitting on the hood of Wilson’s car, hands gripping the edge so hard the metal was digging into his fingers, he was trembling violently.
Wilson sighed, standing in front of the older doctor, hand on House’s shoulder.
He could feel the tremors running through House’s body, the tenseness of the muscles beneath his palm.
House seemed to snap, then.
Wilson instinctively gripped him around the shoulders as he started to sob.
Foreman sighed, looking up as Thirteen came in.
“Hi,” she said, swallowing.
“You gonna quit?”
She shook her head.
“Good.”
“I’m gonna kiss you.”
Foreman swallowed.
“Oh.”
Almost an hour later, Wilson was still holding House around the shoulders, remembering every time House would have snapped at him for so much as touching the older doctor.
House hated being touched.
But he was clinging to Wilson like the man was his last hope for life.
He probably was.
Wilson sighed, and pulled House a little closer, rubbing his back as he sobbed.
“Why are you doing all this?” he asked, quietly.
House sniffed loudly, gasping for enough breath to answer the question amongst the sobs, “I miss you.”
Wilson closed his eyes, gripping even tighter.
These last few months….
“Why didn’t you try to stop me and Amber?”
House raised his head, swallowing hard.
“Because you were happy. I messed up so many of your relationships, but I never felt bad about it because you were never happy in them. You were happier when they were over. But you were happy with Amber. I always wanted you to be happy. Even if it made me miserable.”
House grunted, as Wilson squeezed so tightly he could barely breathe.
“What?” he grunted painfully.
“You’re not screwing with me, are you?” asked Wilson, sounding shaken.
“What? No!”
House was so broken he had just said that without any thought at all.
He had admitted how much someone else meant to him.
Most of all….
“You weren’t screwing with me…” mumbled Wilson, pressing his face into the bald top of House’s head.
“No.”
“Is that why you were drinking?”
House nodded into Wilson’s chest.
“And I know you had a thing for her.”
He nodded again.
Wilson opened his eyes, as they started burning.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You needed to blame someone. I wanted it to not be yourself.”
Wilson sighed, sniffing a little bit.
“Why’d you follow me out here, then?”
“Because I couldn’t help myself. Because Foreman told me to. Because… I missed you.”
Wilson let go, stepping back.
He looked at his friend.
He saw the scruffy, tearstained face of his friend.
For the first time since the crash, he saw House and not Amber.
“I can’t go back to Princeton, House. I can’t.”
“I know. I sold my apartment. And… uh… moved in with Michaels, actually.”
Wilson spluttered.
“What?!”
House shrugged, looking worried.
“Um…”
Then Wilson shook his head.
“You know… I’m happy for you. Don’t screw it up.”
House nodded.
Wilson put his hand on House’s shoulder.
“Every time I look at you, I think of Amber.”
“I know.”
Wilson sighed.
“I just don’t know how to get over that.”
“I know.”
Wilson sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck.
“House... just to be clear... you don't... *love* love me... right?”
House looked at him strangely, “no. I mean, I love you, but I'm not *in* love with you... what gave you that idea?”
“Nothing. Just... I mean, you and Michaels... you never told me, so....”
House laughed.
“Michaels is kind of an exception. Old flame, that sort of thing.”
Wilson looked at him oddly.
“You *used* to be gay?”
House snorted, then sighed.
“It's... complicated.”
Wilson was silent for a while.
“You wanna get something to drink?”
House nodded.
Wilson walked around to the driver’s side, and got in.
Foreman sighed, opening the door to the emergency medicine lounge.
“Cameron...can I talk to you for a minute?”
She looked up, shrugged, and followed him over to a corner.
“Why... how did you know marrying your husband was a good thing to do? What made you do that?”
She blinked at him.
“You fall in love with a terminal cancer patient?”
“Not cancer... whatever. Just... I need some advice here, ok?”
She looked at him for a while.
“OK, I'll tell you.”
He raised his head, expectant.
“I was in love. And that was all that mattered. That I could make this person I cared so much about happy. That's all there was too it.”
He blinked.
Then he looked at his feet, thinking.
A week later, House had transferred to diagnostics, his piano had arrived, and Wilson was speaking to him again, although still awkward.
Foreman and Thirteen had started dating, much to Kutner's surprise, Taub's disinterest, and Cameron's gloating, since she had won the bet she had made with Chase on the matter.
And Tim, in cahoots with House and Michaels, had finally managed to get Wilson alone in the same room as Sarah—and lock the door.
‘Lisa—everything’s good.
-John Michaels’
Pairing: House+Wilson past
Author: alanwolfmoon
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: spoliers for s4 finale
Summary: Wilson left, House let him go. Foreman doesn't like that idea, and convinces House to go after Wilson. Who moved to North Vancouver. Canada.
Disclaimer: MINE! ALL MINE!....uh, no. Not mine.
Feedback: Reviews and flames are welcome. (They make it look like I'm writing fast)
Notes: Final chapter. 1 2 3 4 5
T
Cameron yawned, rubbing her eyes as she sat across from Foreman, helping him with the forms House had left undone when he flew off to Canada.
“Any news on how he’s doing?” she asked, glancing up from a form.
Foreman nodded, “apparently he took a little too much ibuprofen with a bit too little water. Ended up with three perforated ulcers. Apparently he collapsed right in front of Wilson.”
Cameron grimaced.
“Ouch. Do you know what Wilson did?”
“Called for a stretcher, acted like a doctor,” said Foreman, shrugging.
“Was he upset?”
“I don’t know. I’m getting this like fourth hand.”
Wilson sighed, opening his door.
“I have company.”
“Tim?”
“And Sarah. Who Tim invited without asking me.”
House snorted.
Wilson sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck.
“You look… better….”
House nodded, looking away.
“House, I… I’m glad you’re seeing Chang. I’m glad you’re trying to heal.”
“I’m not trying to do anything but get you to come back. I’m seeing Chang because Michaels is making me and Foreman recommended her.”
Wilson nodded, standing awkwardly in the doorway.
Snow was once again piling on House’s shoulders as they stood there.
“How did you get here?” he asked, frowning, “you’re not supposed to drive for another month.”
“Bus. Walked from the corner.”
“It’s icy.”
House looked at him.
“Yeah, well…. Noticed that….”
Wilson sighed, looking him over.
His coat was wet.
“You fall?”
House nodded, looking firmly in another direction.
“You… look cold.”
House shrugged.
“Call a cab.”
“Why?
Wilson sighed.
“Don’t hurt your head anymore than it already is by taking a careless chance.”
“Walking?”
Wilson nodded.
“Do you…”
“No. Just out of a basic respect for human life. Now leave.”
He shut the door in House’s face.
House swallowed, leaning against the wall next to the door, as he started hyperventilating.
It was bad this time… his vision was going dark….
Crinkling noises and something rough pressed itself to his face.
More crinkling noises.
He closed his eyes, trying to get his body under control.
It wasn’t working.
A hand lifted his and placed it around the paper bag, he heard the door close behind him.
There was no way he was going to get through this in time to catch the bus in five minutes, the bus after that wasn’t for an hour, and he didn’t have enough money for a cab.
His vision was going dark.
He grabbed his phone out of his pocket, dialed the second speed dial—the first being Wilson.
Ten minutes later, a dark red car pulled up, and Michaels got out.
House had managed to get to the end of Wilson’s sidewalk.
“Damn, House. Hold on.”
Michaels went back into the car, came back with a packet.
“Here.”
“What?” asked House, still struggling not to pass out.
“Benzodiapine.”
House shook his head, “it’ll pass.”
Michaels shrugged, putting the packet into his pocket and helping House too his feet.
“Don’t pass out on me, kay? I can’t carry your heavy ass.”
House nodded.
He passed out almost as soon as Michaels got him in the seat.
House groaned, opening his eyes.
A hand was resting on his shoulder, he was in an unfamiliar bed.
“Hey,” said Michaels, smirking a little, “you passed out. I got Nurse Darnel to help get you in here.”
“Where’s here?”
“My place.”
House nodded, looking around.
“Damn, House. Are you trying to scare me?”
House smirked a little, tiredly, “of course.”
Michaels rolled his eyes, gripping the edges of house's shirt.
“Don't make me see that again,” he said, kissing his moronic friend, “don't make me regret doing that.”
“That’s still going on?” asked House, voice cracking slightly.
Michaels pulled back, sighing.
“Is it?”
House flushed slightly.
Michaels smirked, just a little.
There… really wasn’t anything to stop this from happening… and… it felt right. It felt... good.
Then he blinked.
“I wouldn't have that far to search?” he said, echoing what Michaels had said that day he had been stuck in bed because of his leg.
Michaels smirked.
“You never were good at subtext, were you?”
Three days later, on a Tuesday morning, Wilson opened his door to find flowers there.
He frowned, picked them up. Probably Tim attempting a House-esque matchmaking with Sarah.
He read the card.
‘I’m Sorry.’
He sighed, shaking his head.
Wilson looked up, as House appeared next to him at his lunch table.
“Go away, House. Just go away.”
House swallowed, and sat down.
Wilson frowned.
Was House forcing… no, he just looked like he was going to pass out.
“You better not puke up blood again,” said Wilson, reaching across the table and gripping House’s wrist with the intention of checking his pulse.
House grabbed his arm.
He blinked.
House looked at him, utterly silent.
He looked… oh god….
He looked like the emotional stress, coupled with the pain, was about to push him over the edge.
Wilson pulled him to his feet, ducked under his arm, and got him the hell out of there.
By the time House was sitting on the hood of Wilson’s car, hands gripping the edge so hard the metal was digging into his fingers, he was trembling violently.
Wilson sighed, standing in front of the older doctor, hand on House’s shoulder.
He could feel the tremors running through House’s body, the tenseness of the muscles beneath his palm.
House seemed to snap, then.
Wilson instinctively gripped him around the shoulders as he started to sob.
Foreman sighed, looking up as Thirteen came in.
“Hi,” she said, swallowing.
“You gonna quit?”
She shook her head.
“Good.”
“I’m gonna kiss you.”
Foreman swallowed.
“Oh.”
Almost an hour later, Wilson was still holding House around the shoulders, remembering every time House would have snapped at him for so much as touching the older doctor.
House hated being touched.
But he was clinging to Wilson like the man was his last hope for life.
He probably was.
Wilson sighed, and pulled House a little closer, rubbing his back as he sobbed.
“Why are you doing all this?” he asked, quietly.
House sniffed loudly, gasping for enough breath to answer the question amongst the sobs, “I miss you.”
Wilson closed his eyes, gripping even tighter.
These last few months….
“Why didn’t you try to stop me and Amber?”
House raised his head, swallowing hard.
“Because you were happy. I messed up so many of your relationships, but I never felt bad about it because you were never happy in them. You were happier when they were over. But you were happy with Amber. I always wanted you to be happy. Even if it made me miserable.”
House grunted, as Wilson squeezed so tightly he could barely breathe.
“What?” he grunted painfully.
“You’re not screwing with me, are you?” asked Wilson, sounding shaken.
“What? No!”
House was so broken he had just said that without any thought at all.
He had admitted how much someone else meant to him.
Most of all….
“You weren’t screwing with me…” mumbled Wilson, pressing his face into the bald top of House’s head.
“No.”
“Is that why you were drinking?”
House nodded into Wilson’s chest.
“And I know you had a thing for her.”
He nodded again.
Wilson opened his eyes, as they started burning.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You needed to blame someone. I wanted it to not be yourself.”
Wilson sighed, sniffing a little bit.
“Why’d you follow me out here, then?”
“Because I couldn’t help myself. Because Foreman told me to. Because… I missed you.”
Wilson let go, stepping back.
He looked at his friend.
He saw the scruffy, tearstained face of his friend.
For the first time since the crash, he saw House and not Amber.
“I can’t go back to Princeton, House. I can’t.”
“I know. I sold my apartment. And… uh… moved in with Michaels, actually.”
Wilson spluttered.
“What?!”
House shrugged, looking worried.
“Um…”
Then Wilson shook his head.
“You know… I’m happy for you. Don’t screw it up.”
House nodded.
Wilson put his hand on House’s shoulder.
“Every time I look at you, I think of Amber.”
“I know.”
Wilson sighed.
“I just don’t know how to get over that.”
“I know.”
Wilson sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck.
“House... just to be clear... you don't... *love* love me... right?”
House looked at him strangely, “no. I mean, I love you, but I'm not *in* love with you... what gave you that idea?”
“Nothing. Just... I mean, you and Michaels... you never told me, so....”
House laughed.
“Michaels is kind of an exception. Old flame, that sort of thing.”
Wilson looked at him oddly.
“You *used* to be gay?”
House snorted, then sighed.
“It's... complicated.”
Wilson was silent for a while.
“You wanna get something to drink?”
House nodded.
Wilson walked around to the driver’s side, and got in.
Foreman sighed, opening the door to the emergency medicine lounge.
“Cameron...can I talk to you for a minute?”
She looked up, shrugged, and followed him over to a corner.
“Why... how did you know marrying your husband was a good thing to do? What made you do that?”
She blinked at him.
“You fall in love with a terminal cancer patient?”
“Not cancer... whatever. Just... I need some advice here, ok?”
She looked at him for a while.
“OK, I'll tell you.”
He raised his head, expectant.
“I was in love. And that was all that mattered. That I could make this person I cared so much about happy. That's all there was too it.”
He blinked.
Then he looked at his feet, thinking.
A week later, House had transferred to diagnostics, his piano had arrived, and Wilson was speaking to him again, although still awkward.
Foreman and Thirteen had started dating, much to Kutner's surprise, Taub's disinterest, and Cameron's gloating, since she had won the bet she had made with Chase on the matter.
And Tim, in cahoots with House and Michaels, had finally managed to get Wilson alone in the same room as Sarah—and lock the door.
‘Lisa—everything’s good.
-John Michaels’
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![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
From:
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Loved this!
XOXOXO
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But I liked the choppy kind of snippets the paragraphs implied. Like we were watching them from a distance or something, like spying on them. I don't know. Does that make sense?
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i love writting in snippets. when I'm writing them, they have music with them in my head, like that sequence near the end of wilson's heart, showing what's going on with everyone. but, of course, that would be difficult to write.
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I guess I'm mostly disappointed that it's over.
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BTW, my new icon is in your honor since you liked the old one so much, lol.
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yeah... i guess i never did describe michaels, other than short, and gray eyes....
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Think there is a lot between the lines that would be enjoyable to see.
Hope there is more of this 'verse. :D
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Sorry.
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Please, pleas POST A BIG WARNING in the first chapter to let everyone know it's going to be H/OC and HET. I hate the het, which is why I belong to the H/W slash community.
You write really, really great dialogue and I love your stuff but this ending was painful.
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Having House end up with anyone but Wilson is truly hard for me to take, and especially when almost seems HET, which I don't really care for in terms of House. Oh man, I feel bad because I want to read more of your stuff and you are a really good writer. Just keep writing however you want.
From: (Anonymous)
Wonderful
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