Secret Language Of Names (6/?) AU H/W Hurt/Comfort (Mature readers)
Title/Chapter: The Secret Language Of Names 6/?
Fandom: House MD
Word Count: 1599
Rating: Average
Warnings: Angst and woe.
Summary: Wilson begins to deal (or not) with the reality of the situation with House. Cuddy struggles to keep herself together in front of the girls.
Author's Notes: Feedback is appreciated.
Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five
He taped his fingers himself, using tape from House's desk. Loose, just as House had wanted his so many years ago. He needed to feel the throbbing in his fingers, needed to feel the ache in his hand.
He stood at the door to the balcony facing his own office. The sky had gone dark, the courtyard below bathed in artificial light. How many times had he and House met on that balcony? How many times had he watched House climb over the brick dividing wall, awkwardly yet graceful as he avoided coming down on his right leg.
He dropped his head forward, thumping against the glass of the door. He beat his head until a headache throbbed behind his eyes. He kicked the door once, sending waves of pain up to his knee, before turning away. Moving forward, he thrust his arm across House's desk, clearing the surface. Pens and papers, trinkets and toys clattered to the floor.
He growled and pulled the drawers loose of the tracking, dumping magazines, newspapers, files, and House's stash of Vicodin and red lolly pops scattered across the floor at his feet.
He gathered what he could in his arms, groping in the darkness for the items that had meaning for House. Lacrosse ball, yoyo, iPod, electronic games, red lolly pops, empty Vicodin bottle, another bottle with five or six pills inside. He struggled to keep everything in his arms, and used his shoulder to push the office door open. The elevator proved to be a bit more challenging, but he managed.
"Dr Wilson?" Several of the nurses on the second floor called his name. He kept his head high, eyes focused straight ahead, unflinching, as if he didn't hear them. "Dr Wilson," a nurse named Kelly followed him to House's room, where he dropped all of the things he carried onto the bed. He shook out his hand, sending shocks of pain through his fingers.
She said his name again before he looked at her. "What is all of this?"
"His things. He needs his toys so he can think." Wilson's mouth quirked in a small smile.
"Dr Wilson, I don't think…"
Wilson shook his head. "Have you ever seen him work? He's so intense. When he's tossing the ball on the end of his cane, you have to wonder how he can concentrate on anything else, but he's thinking and he's putting things together in his head and he won't stop until he figures it out."
"Yes, Dr Wilson." Kelly stepped back, and eased out of the room.
Wilson glanced at the door, and moved to close it. He returned to the side of the bed, pulling one of the chairs with him. He ignored the chair in favor of arranging the items he'd brought from House's office on the bed. He turned the iPod on and set it on the bedside table.
The unmistakable sound of Johnny Cash pulsed to life. Wilson bent his head, his hair falling forward to brush against House's chest.
I hurt myself today/To see if I still feel.
I focus on the pain/The only thing that's real.
He reached up, moving his bandaged fingers across House's cheek, over his lips. He arranged the red lollypops around the iPod. He placed the lacrosse ball in House's hand, Game Boy and yoyo on his chest.
Satisfied everything had a proper place, Wilson leaned in to press his lips against House's lips. House remained stiff and unyielding beneath him, and Wilson abandoned the kisses to press his forehead against House's forehead.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Cuddy sent the girls upstairs to change in to the pajamas and promised to read them a story. She always read to them before bed, and every night they asked and begged as if it wasn't part of the routine. They all changed in to pajama and climbed in to one bed. If they piled in to Alexa's bed, Adira picked he story, and vice versa.
"Mama!" Alexa called from the top of the stairs. "Is you coming?"
"In a minute," Cuddy called back. She realised she'd been standing in the middle of the kitchen since they came in the house. She rubbed a hand over her face and went to the fridge t get a bottle of water.
Reaching for the handle, her eyes focused on a picture that had hung on the door since Adira had come home from the hospital. House held her, her eyes bright and locked on the camera because Wilson was taking the picture. She couldn't remember the last time she'd paid any attention to it, she just always knew it was there. It was, without a doubt, her favorite picture of House. One of the few decent pictures of him.
"I swear, Gregory House, if you die…" she reached up to touch the image of his face.
"Mama!"
Cuddy cleared her throat and backed away from the picture. She kept her eyes to the floor as she grabbed the bottle of water she'd wanted, and headed upstairs. She turned back, and pulled the picture off the fridge. She carried it with the image to her chest, up the stairs.
"Did you pick a book?" Cuddy leaned her head in to the girls' bedroom. They were both in Alexa's bed.
"Uh-huh," Adira held up Dr Seuss' Green Eggs And Ham. Cuddy's free hand wrapped around the door frame. How many times had she heard House read that book to the girls? He had bought it for them for Christmas one year, and had told them it was his favorite book when he was a boy. They insisted he read it to them every time he came to the house. They took it with them when they went to House and Wilson's house.
"You cans read it for Uncle Greg." Adira beamed. Proud of herself.
Cuddy nodded. "I'll be a minute." Her voice nearly broke, but she held it together for the girls' sake. She slipped in to her bedroom and shut the door. They would come looking for her soon. Two minutes. She'd let herself cry for two minutes, then she had to read the book, and put the girls to bed. After that, when they were asleep, when she was alone, she would cry until she couldn't shed another tear.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
In sleep, he dreamed of happier times. Of laying with House on the sticky leather sofa he insisted on buying because the color reminded him of Wilson's eyes. In his dream, he kissed House's lips, and tasted blood.
He sat up, sweat matting his hair to his head, breath coming hard and fast in time with his pulse. He stood, and bent over House. Within seconds, the heart rate monitor bottomed out, the pulse ox monitor screeched its alarm, drowning out the steady beat of music from th iPod.
Wilson thrust his arms under House's body. "Dr Wilson?" Kelly, and at least half a dozen more nurses stampeded the room.
Wilson cocked his head, almost as if listening to the sounds of church bells in the distance. "I'm taking him home."
"Dr Wilson, I don't think…" Kelly stepped forward, both hands held out in front of her.
"I'm taking him home," Wilson repeated. Someone whispered an order to call Dr Cuddy. Wilson's head turned, his eyes scanning the nurses.
"I can't let you do that, Dr Wilson." A second nurse stepped in front of the others. "Please put Dr House back in the bed."
Wilson shook his head and took a step backward. His legs tangled in the wires and tubes from House's monitors. The IV drip fell and ripped a gash in House's arm. Blood rushed the wound and splattered Wilson's face and chest. Another step back, barely keeping his balance, and he was pressed against the wall.
"Dr Wilson, please." Kelly reached out to touch his arm, just above where House's leg was.
"Don't!" Wilson roared, eyes wild and unfocused though he was looking right at her. "Don't touch him!"
"James, I know you're upset. I know this is hard for you. But Dr House needs to be monitored. You know we're taking good care of him. Please just put him down in the bed. We'll take care of him. I'll take care of him, only me and you, if that's what you want."
His bottom lip quivered, but he allowed Kelly to guide him back to the bed. He lay House down and stayed bent down, as if shielding him.
Someone came back with a kit to clean up the blood from the IV. Someone else had a new IV set up. Kelly thanked them both and took the kits. "I've got it," she looked back over her shoulder and nodded for everyone to leave the room.
"I don't want him to die here." Wilson lifted his head to look at her. Unfocused still, but calm like the eye of a storm. "I can't let him die here."
"Dr House is too stubborn to die, Dr Wilson. You know that." Kelly smiled. "Will you let me clean up the blood and administer the new IV?"
Wilson's eyes closed. He didn't nod or acknowledge her question, but he did ease back a little, just enough. Kelly worked around him, and once House was settled, she wet a clean towel from the bathroom to clean the blood off Wilson's face. "I'll find you a clean shirt, okay?"
His eyes snapped open and he grabbed her wrist. "Don't…don't go."
Kelly covered his hand with hers. "All right, Dr Wilson. I'll stay as long as you need me to stay."
Fandom: House MD
Word Count: 1599
Rating: Average
Warnings: Angst and woe.
Summary: Wilson begins to deal (or not) with the reality of the situation with House. Cuddy struggles to keep herself together in front of the girls.
Author's Notes: Feedback is appreciated.
Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five
He taped his fingers himself, using tape from House's desk. Loose, just as House had wanted his so many years ago. He needed to feel the throbbing in his fingers, needed to feel the ache in his hand.
He stood at the door to the balcony facing his own office. The sky had gone dark, the courtyard below bathed in artificial light. How many times had he and House met on that balcony? How many times had he watched House climb over the brick dividing wall, awkwardly yet graceful as he avoided coming down on his right leg.
He dropped his head forward, thumping against the glass of the door. He beat his head until a headache throbbed behind his eyes. He kicked the door once, sending waves of pain up to his knee, before turning away. Moving forward, he thrust his arm across House's desk, clearing the surface. Pens and papers, trinkets and toys clattered to the floor.
He growled and pulled the drawers loose of the tracking, dumping magazines, newspapers, files, and House's stash of Vicodin and red lolly pops scattered across the floor at his feet.
He gathered what he could in his arms, groping in the darkness for the items that had meaning for House. Lacrosse ball, yoyo, iPod, electronic games, red lolly pops, empty Vicodin bottle, another bottle with five or six pills inside. He struggled to keep everything in his arms, and used his shoulder to push the office door open. The elevator proved to be a bit more challenging, but he managed.
"Dr Wilson?" Several of the nurses on the second floor called his name. He kept his head high, eyes focused straight ahead, unflinching, as if he didn't hear them. "Dr Wilson," a nurse named Kelly followed him to House's room, where he dropped all of the things he carried onto the bed. He shook out his hand, sending shocks of pain through his fingers.
She said his name again before he looked at her. "What is all of this?"
"His things. He needs his toys so he can think." Wilson's mouth quirked in a small smile.
"Dr Wilson, I don't think…"
Wilson shook his head. "Have you ever seen him work? He's so intense. When he's tossing the ball on the end of his cane, you have to wonder how he can concentrate on anything else, but he's thinking and he's putting things together in his head and he won't stop until he figures it out."
"Yes, Dr Wilson." Kelly stepped back, and eased out of the room.
Wilson glanced at the door, and moved to close it. He returned to the side of the bed, pulling one of the chairs with him. He ignored the chair in favor of arranging the items he'd brought from House's office on the bed. He turned the iPod on and set it on the bedside table.
The unmistakable sound of Johnny Cash pulsed to life. Wilson bent his head, his hair falling forward to brush against House's chest.
I hurt myself today/To see if I still feel.
I focus on the pain/The only thing that's real.
He reached up, moving his bandaged fingers across House's cheek, over his lips. He arranged the red lollypops around the iPod. He placed the lacrosse ball in House's hand, Game Boy and yoyo on his chest.
Satisfied everything had a proper place, Wilson leaned in to press his lips against House's lips. House remained stiff and unyielding beneath him, and Wilson abandoned the kisses to press his forehead against House's forehead.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Cuddy sent the girls upstairs to change in to the pajamas and promised to read them a story. She always read to them before bed, and every night they asked and begged as if it wasn't part of the routine. They all changed in to pajama and climbed in to one bed. If they piled in to Alexa's bed, Adira picked he story, and vice versa.
"Mama!" Alexa called from the top of the stairs. "Is you coming?"
"In a minute," Cuddy called back. She realised she'd been standing in the middle of the kitchen since they came in the house. She rubbed a hand over her face and went to the fridge t get a bottle of water.
Reaching for the handle, her eyes focused on a picture that had hung on the door since Adira had come home from the hospital. House held her, her eyes bright and locked on the camera because Wilson was taking the picture. She couldn't remember the last time she'd paid any attention to it, she just always knew it was there. It was, without a doubt, her favorite picture of House. One of the few decent pictures of him.
"I swear, Gregory House, if you die…" she reached up to touch the image of his face.
"Mama!"
Cuddy cleared her throat and backed away from the picture. She kept her eyes to the floor as she grabbed the bottle of water she'd wanted, and headed upstairs. She turned back, and pulled the picture off the fridge. She carried it with the image to her chest, up the stairs.
"Did you pick a book?" Cuddy leaned her head in to the girls' bedroom. They were both in Alexa's bed.
"Uh-huh," Adira held up Dr Seuss' Green Eggs And Ham. Cuddy's free hand wrapped around the door frame. How many times had she heard House read that book to the girls? He had bought it for them for Christmas one year, and had told them it was his favorite book when he was a boy. They insisted he read it to them every time he came to the house. They took it with them when they went to House and Wilson's house.
"You cans read it for Uncle Greg." Adira beamed. Proud of herself.
Cuddy nodded. "I'll be a minute." Her voice nearly broke, but she held it together for the girls' sake. She slipped in to her bedroom and shut the door. They would come looking for her soon. Two minutes. She'd let herself cry for two minutes, then she had to read the book, and put the girls to bed. After that, when they were asleep, when she was alone, she would cry until she couldn't shed another tear.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
In sleep, he dreamed of happier times. Of laying with House on the sticky leather sofa he insisted on buying because the color reminded him of Wilson's eyes. In his dream, he kissed House's lips, and tasted blood.
He sat up, sweat matting his hair to his head, breath coming hard and fast in time with his pulse. He stood, and bent over House. Within seconds, the heart rate monitor bottomed out, the pulse ox monitor screeched its alarm, drowning out the steady beat of music from th iPod.
Wilson thrust his arms under House's body. "Dr Wilson?" Kelly, and at least half a dozen more nurses stampeded the room.
Wilson cocked his head, almost as if listening to the sounds of church bells in the distance. "I'm taking him home."
"Dr Wilson, I don't think…" Kelly stepped forward, both hands held out in front of her.
"I'm taking him home," Wilson repeated. Someone whispered an order to call Dr Cuddy. Wilson's head turned, his eyes scanning the nurses.
"I can't let you do that, Dr Wilson." A second nurse stepped in front of the others. "Please put Dr House back in the bed."
Wilson shook his head and took a step backward. His legs tangled in the wires and tubes from House's monitors. The IV drip fell and ripped a gash in House's arm. Blood rushed the wound and splattered Wilson's face and chest. Another step back, barely keeping his balance, and he was pressed against the wall.
"Dr Wilson, please." Kelly reached out to touch his arm, just above where House's leg was.
"Don't!" Wilson roared, eyes wild and unfocused though he was looking right at her. "Don't touch him!"
"James, I know you're upset. I know this is hard for you. But Dr House needs to be monitored. You know we're taking good care of him. Please just put him down in the bed. We'll take care of him. I'll take care of him, only me and you, if that's what you want."
His bottom lip quivered, but he allowed Kelly to guide him back to the bed. He lay House down and stayed bent down, as if shielding him.
Someone came back with a kit to clean up the blood from the IV. Someone else had a new IV set up. Kelly thanked them both and took the kits. "I've got it," she looked back over her shoulder and nodded for everyone to leave the room.
"I don't want him to die here." Wilson lifted his head to look at her. Unfocused still, but calm like the eye of a storm. "I can't let him die here."
"Dr House is too stubborn to die, Dr Wilson. You know that." Kelly smiled. "Will you let me clean up the blood and administer the new IV?"
Wilson's eyes closed. He didn't nod or acknowledge her question, but he did ease back a little, just enough. Kelly worked around him, and once House was settled, she wet a clean towel from the bathroom to clean the blood off Wilson's face. "I'll find you a clean shirt, okay?"
His eyes snapped open and he grabbed her wrist. "Don't…don't go."
Kelly covered his hand with hers. "All right, Dr Wilson. I'll stay as long as you need me to stay."