House M.D. stuffs
Oooh...I love showcase and their reruns. Soooo good.
Title: Delicate
Chapter: Grey Room (ten)
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I got a paycheck today, but that was from being a cashier, not from torturing Huddy fans. (Tee hee..)
Summary: House is changed in a way that no one could have seen coming, and Wilson is left to pick up and take care of what's remaining. Can he handle it?
Warnings: sick!vulnerable!House, House/Wilson slash.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6&7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
“So I’ll be back to get him in an hour and a half.” Leaving House with a stranger made Cameron uncomfortable, but then, Dr. Buroughs wasn’t really a stranger to House or Wilson, and her warm smile seemed genuine as she nodded and ushered House into her office. Just before the door closed, House turned and gave Cameron a small wave.
“So, House,” Dr. Buroughs watched him get comfortable in his armchair before she continued. “Last time we met, you told me about a dream that you had. You told me you were on a bus with a pretty woman, and then the woman died. Then Jimmy hated you. Do you think you could tell me about the dream in more detail?”
“No...” he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“Why not?”
“I...I can’t remember.” He scratched idly at his beard and stared at a spot somewhere above Dr. Buroughs’ head.
“I think you can,” she pushed, “I think you’re just afraid to tell me. You know you can tell me anything. It’ll be our secret.”
He scrutinized her for a moment, judging her sensible clothing and long grey hair. Her appearance seemed to soothe his frayed nerves, and after taking a deep breath, he said, “Well, nothing else really happens in the dream. I can’t remember very much of it, honestly. But I always wake up feeling really upset.”
“Upset how?” she asked, scribbling something on her note pad. “Angry? Sad?”
“Um...sad...I think. But something else, too.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. It’s the same way I feel when I do something wrong. When I break a rule, or wreck something.”
“I believe what you’re feeling is guilt.”
“Guilt?” He rolled the foreign word around in his mouth.
“Yes. What do you usually do when you wake up from these dreams?”
“I find Jimmy. He hugs me and makes me feel better. He usually lets me sleep in his bed with him.”
“I see. And...” she looked up from her note pad to make eye contact, “have you told Jimmy what happens in these dreams?”
“No. No no no.” He shook his head fiercely, “never.”
“Why not?”
“I know there’s some stuff he can remember that I can’t. What if he is as angry at me again? What if this is a real memory, and he’s just waiting for me to remember so he can be mad again?” House’s eyes were turning red and he was beginning to tear up, so Dr. Buroughs decided to try a new tactic.
“Do you have any other dreams about Jimmy?”
“Yes...” he looked out the window.
“Are they nice dreams?”
“I think so.” House’s tears were drying up and he was beginning to look a little pink.
“Do you want to talk to me about those?”
“Not really.”
“That’s okay, too. Did you want to talk about anything else today?”
“I don’t know.” He shifted in his seat to look back at her. “I guess something has been bugging me...”
“Mhm?”
“It’s just sometimes people talk about things and I feel like I should know what they’re talking about, like it’s right there in the back of my head, and I can’t reach it.” He looked at her sadly, begging her to tell him this was perfectly normal.
However, she didn’t acquiesce. “House, did anyone ever tell you what happened to you right before Jimmy picked you up, that night at the hospital?”
“I...I fell. I hit my head.”
“Yes,” she nodded slowly, “Do you know how old you are?”
“49?”
“Yes. So don’t you ever wonder why you can only remember the last few weeks, plus a few things in your dreams?”
House nodded slowly, as though he was finally beginning to understand everything that had happened to him recently.
“That night - when you fell, when you hit your head - you lost 48 years of memories. You used to be a doctor. You worked at the hospital where Jimmy works. You were very good friend with Jimmy. You called him Wilson.”
“What?” his voice cracked as he asked the question.
“Yes. It’s all true. You have brain damage - you’ve lost some time, but I can tell some of your memories are coming back to you.”
“Lost...time?” House slid off of the armchair onto the floor, his face in his hands. His back was shaking with sobs, but he emitted no sound.
“House...we can work together. Your dreams...I think most of them are memories, things that really happened to you.” She knelt down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder.
House looked up at her, tears and snot running down his face. He looked so lost, for a moment Dr. Buroughs wondered if she had done the right thing in telling him. He hiccupped once and then ran the back of his hand across his face. “Who am I?”
She rubbed a slow circle on his back, slowly rising and helping him back into the chair, “Well, that’s what we’re here to figure out.”
-------------------
Wilson was sitting on the uncomfortable mattress of the hotel room listening to House jabber on the other end of the phone. His face was a mess of uncontrolled anger. “Wait, what did she tell you?” The man he had slept with earlier slowly began getting dressed. He seemed to understand he was neither needed, nor wanted, anymore.
“She said I used to be a doctor, Jimmy. A really smart one.”
“Yes,” Wilson sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, “You were.”
“She said we used to work together.”
Wilson could hear House sniffle on the other end. Dr. Buroughs had given him the last half hour of the session to call Wilson and talk to him about everything. “That’s true, too. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” There was silence on the other end for a moment and then Wilson thought he heard Dr. Buroughs talking quietly to House. “Jimmy...” House’s voice came over the phone again, but much softer and more nervous this time. “Do you hate me?”
“What?! No, of course not! Why would I hate you?” Wilson glanced at the man sneaking out of the hotel room. He was older and lanky with short, cropped hair and some stubble. Wilson always tried to get men who were something like House, but in the end, they just never came close. They smelled all wrong, or their touch wasn’t soft enough, or they talked too much. The man nodded and gave a polite smile before shutting the door quietly behind his back.
Wilson focused again on House’s voice. He hoped he hadn’t missed too much while daydreaming. “...and then she dies and you don’t even want to talk to me anymore.”
“Who dies?”
“The lady.”
“What lady?”
“The one on the bus. The pretty one. Weren’t you listening?”
“Yes, sorry, I was just confused. What does the pretty lady look like?”
“She’s blond.”
“Amber?”
“Who’s Amber?”House sounded shockingly concerned.
“No one. Why don’t we talk about this face to face when I come back home?”
“Oh...kay...”
“Alright. Well, I missing you buddy. I’ve got something for you when I get back. Just two more days.” Wilson rubbed at his brow and tried to ignore the headache he knew was going to result from this.
“I miss you, too.”
“I’m glad you called me. Have a good night.”
“It’s not night time here.”
Wilson laughed, `Well, when you do go to bed, have a good night.`
``Okay. You too.`` As Wilson began to pull the receiver away from his ear, he heard a faint, ``I love you,``, but by the time he had half a mind to reply, the other line was dead.
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