Those Things We Don't Say- Part 5
Title: Those Things We Don’t Say
Author: LadyKatie
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Spoilers, slash, language
Summary: Wilson visits House every week after the events of the season 5 finale. As he struggles to help House fix his life he must also confront the problems in their friendship and his own feelings.
Disclaimer: House M.D. and characters are the property of David Shore, Fox, ect. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Note: I posted this yesterday on ff.net and completely forgot to post here. Oops.
Part One * Part Two * Part Three * Part Four
Part 5
Week Thirteen
Wilson had visited on Saturday, just like he always did, but for some reason he felt like going back again in the middle of the week. It had been a rough week for House and though Wilson didn’t really think he needed to be checked up on he found himself leaving work early and driving to Mayfield. He didn’t give House any warning, just showed up, but made sure he was armed with gifts just in case the visit wasn’t completely welcome.
“What are you doing here?”
It was asked in a gruff, almost uninterested tone, but he didn’t actually believe that House was anything other than glad to see him.
“I was in the neighborhood.”
House snorted in amusement. “Right, you were on the way home from work and took a wrong turn. But what the hell, it’s only forty miles out of the way; you might as well keep driving.”
“Something like that.”
“Really, what’s up?”
“Nothing. I just felt like seeing you.”
“Did you lose another patient?”
“No. It’s actually been a good week.”
And it had been. Danny hadn’t needed him yet and work was going well.
“What’s in the bag?”
“Magazines for you.” He handed them over to House who immediately started examining them. “There’s a couple medical journals in there and some articles I printed off the internet.”
House looked up at him. “The entire internet at your disposal and you probably picked something about little bald kids and their chemo.”
“Actually, one is more follow-up research to Mass Gen’s organ transplant procedures that reduce or eliminate the need for post-op immunosuppressants. I remember you talking about it when they first published last year, so I figured…”
“Thanks.” House sounded truly touched and probably unsure of how to even accept that Wilson would go to so much trouble for him. It wasn’t like just picking up a magazine. He actually looked for something he knew House was specifically interested in. “But you could have at least smuggled porn in.”
“You didn’t look far enough through the bag,” Wilson replied quietly.
House looked back inside and sure enough, tucked between medical journals was a special magazine that Wilson knew he was fond of. House grinned.
“See, that’s why I keep you around. Davis’ brother brought him some dirty magazines last week and they’ve been making the rounds. I never thought I’d use second-hand porn-so to speak-but desperate times call for desperate measures. Unfortunately I was the last one on our floor to get it.”
“It sucks when the pages get stuck together, huh?”
But Wilson noticed that instead of going straight for the porn House was flipping through the latest issue of Soap Opera Weekly.
“And yet you go for the trashy soaps first.”
House looked up at him with a “well duh” expression. “I have to find out what happened to Rebecca and Nikolas. Can’t rest until I know!”
“You haven’t watched the show in months. Do you even know what’s going on?”
“That’s what the magazine is for.”
Wilson shook his head. He had never quite figured out how a man as brilliant as House took such pleasure from something as simple as soaps. Wilson himself could watch them if House was, but he’d never sit down to actually see it for himself and he certainly couldn’t remember the story lines. It was all about sex and betrayal and secrecy. He wasn’t sure half the time who was sleeping with each other and who was the evil twin of someone who died last season. The fact that House liked it was enough. Wilson decided he could sit there and just watch House happily picking through the magazine all afternoon and it would be worth the hour long drive to Mayfield.
“So how is the week going?”
He sighed, turning the page. “Boring.”
“So how is… the other stuff that we talked about Saturday?”
House rolled his eyes. “Of course that’s why you came in the middle of the week. I almost believed the ‘I just want to see you’ bullshit.”
“I did just want to see you, but I was also concerned.”
“Don’t be.”
“You said you wanted vicodin. How can I not be worried?”
House threw the magazine down on the coffee table in front of them. “I am always going to want vicodin. According to you and my idiot doctors I am an addict. There is no cure, only recovery. I think there was twelve steps involved or something. It doesn’t mean I’m going to start popping pills again.”
But he would. Every once in a while when he visited he would notice House reaching for something in his pocket before remembering again that the vicodin was gone. Wilson wanted to believe that House would stay clean, but after so many years vicodin was too much a part of him.
“On Saturday you implied once again that you couldn’t work without them.”
“I pop pills; you want to talk me to death about it. I stop popping pills; you still want to talk me to death about it. I can’t win! Out of everything that’s happened the past few weeks you pick this issue to push?”
“What should I be pushing then?”
“Anything. I don’t want to talk about the fucking vicodin!”
“What do you want to talk about?”
For once he didn’t seem to have a quick reply.
“Well?”
“I don’t care. Why the hell did you even come here?”
“I wanted to see you. I can go if it’s bothering you.”
“You always bother me,” House responded petulantly.
Wilson didn’t really want to deal with House like this. He knew he might not be welcome when he showed up there, so it wasn’t really a huge leap that he would leave early. He reached for his jacket that lay across the back of the couch, but House reached out and stopped him.
“I didn’t say you had to go.”
“Well then you can just say that! You don’t have to play games with me.”
House sighed loudly in complaint. “Fine, I want you to stay. Happy?”
Wilson nodded. “Sure.”
They were quiet for several moments.
“So what should I be talking about if drugs are off limits?”
“I’m sure you can think of something.”
“I can think of a lot of things. I don’t believe most of them are acceptable to you.”
House met his eyes and a silent understanding passed between them. Wilson wanted to talk about that. But House wasn’t ready for that conversation yet and Wilson had promised that he wouldn’t bring it up until he was. There wasn’t really much going on, nothing else to talk about that hadn’t been covered on Saturday. Wilson climbed into his car after work and set out for Mayfield on impulse without really considering what they would do when he got there.
“How’s therapy?”
“You’ve known me for how long and you really think I’m going to talk about that?”
“No. Just making conversation.”
“How’s your therapy going?”
Wilson’s mouth dropped open silently. It really shouldn’t surprise him that House would find a way of knowing everything even when he was cut off from the rest of the world.
“Come on, Wilson. I know you. Your brother’s crazy, I’m crazy and you blame yourself for everything. You’re either in therapy or you’re going to put a knife to your wrists tomorrow.”
“How did you know?”
“A couple weeks after I came here you got really depressed. I haven’t seen you that bad since Julie dumped you. I’m sure it was bad after Amber died, but since you wouldn’t let me around then… And then a couple weeks ago I noticed you were doing a little better. I could tell you had talked to someone. It’s either your shrink or you got a new best friend.”
Wilson couldn’t believe House’s accuracy. He hadn’t been to his therapist in over a year, but the day after he admitted that he had feelings for House he had called to make an appointment. It had felt great to talk openly about his feelings and little by little he was feeling better.
“I didn’t think you’d noticed.”
For House to have picked up on the progression of Wilson’s sickness he would have had to be noticing it in those early weeks at Mayfield. Right after the detox House became withdrawn. There were times that Wilson wasn’t sure if he knew or cared what was going on around him, much less what Wilson was going through personally.
“Just because I didn’t say anything doesn’t mean I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Were you… actually concerned about me?”
House shifted uncomfortably. “Well, someone has to look out for you, Jimmy. Can’t have you doing something stupid.”
Wilson was touched that House was so worried about him. He hadn’t really thought that his bad moods were so noticeable to anyone else. He was hardly aware of them himself sometimes. “I wouldn’t kill myself, just so you know.”
“I said you’d do something stupid. Knowing you you’d end up married again.”
That made Wilson smile. “Well, we can’t have that.”
“Who would be your best man if I’m stuck in here?”
“Exactly.” He hesitated. “My therapy is going good.”
“Good.”
“Yours?”
House sighed and glanced around at the familiar room. “I’m still here.”
Week Fifteen
Wilson decided to make the mid-week visit a normal occurrence. House didn’t ask and they didn’t discuss it at all, but he did it and it seemed to be good for them both. Wilson wondered how much longer he would be making the trips to Mayfield. Dr. Beck had been hinting that House would be released eventually, but he was never very specific when Wilson asked for a timeline.
House was doing much better. The hallucinations were completely gone and had been for some time. Every time Wilson saw him it seemed like he was more like himself. He asked about the hospital and patients a lot. He asked protectively about his office and whether Foreman had moved all of his stuff in. It was obvious he was getting anxious to come back. He knew that he was getting better and his confidence was returning. Dr. Beck said that it was a very good sign and a huge change from the defeat that had taken over him ten weeks ago. The old House was coming back.
Given that, Wilson wasn’t sure what to make of House grinning like an idiot when he walked in that Saturday. He quickly checked to ensure that his fly was not undone or that his hair wasn’t sticking up funny because he wasn’t really sure what else could be so amusing.
“You’re… happy today?”
“The new lady in group used to be a prostitute.” He waggled his eyebrows to convey his point. “The things she’ll do for a cigarette!”
“Sorry, didn’t bring you any of those this week.” He knew House was messing with him. He took his usual place on the couch. “So really, what’s with the extra cheery mood?”
“The warden says I can get out of here.”
Wilson’s heart skipped a beat. “Dr. Beck cleared you? When?”
“Next week if everything goes good.”
“Are you sure it’s not too soon?”
“I’ve been here forever!” he whined. “Besides, I can’t go back to work yet. He just wants me to ease back into the outside world. I still have to come back for sessions and evaluations twice a week. Which means I need a chauffeur.”
“At your service. What did he say about work?”
House shrugged. “Probably about another month of therapy before he’ll trust me to be around clinic patients while I have sharp objects at my disposal.”
“And they’re really gone? The hallucinations?”
“Has the answer ever changed in the million times you’ve asked that? Unless you’re one, then no, no hallucinations.”
“That’s… so great.”
House frowned. “You don’t sound particularly happy.”
“I’m thrilled, I’m just… I don’t know. I guess I’m relieved.”
The truth was there were far too many emotions running through him right now. Relief was among them. That was a huge one. There was also a bit of fear mixed in. What if House wasn’t ready? What if he got out and their relationship was never right again? They had said too many things now to pretend as they had before. Wilson tried to put his own vulnerability out of his mind.
“So what is the first thing you’ll do with your freedom?”
House didn’t hesitate. “I’m going to order in from every restaurant I have a delivery menu for.”
“You have probably a couple dozen of them!”
“I know. And I’m going to eat it all in one night while watching all the delightful premium channels that I have been denied here. Then I’m going to pass out on the couch and not wake up until one pm.”
“Don’t aim too high or anything.”
“Aw, Jimmy, don’t worry. I’ll get up and do something productive eventually. I’ll have to go out for food and porn at some point.”
Wilson laughed a little, but then got quiet again and looked back up at House. For the first time he noticed how closely they were sitting on the couch. Did they always sit this close?
“I’m really glad you’re coming home,” he said quietly.
House looked cautious. There it was, that thing that was between them now that they didn’t talk about. House’s face betrayed his fear, a warning for Wilson not to take his thoughts any further. So Wilson looked away, keeping his promise that it would not be discussed until House was ready. House recovered quickly.
“You say that now, but after you have to save my job a couple times you’ll wish I was back here where I can be contained and sedated.”
Wilson knew he was trying to lighten the mood, but he couldn’t let that comment pass.
“You know that’s not true.”
House nodded, accepting the truth, even if he couldn’t verbally acknowledge it.
Wilson couldn’t help it if he was a little protective. If the last few weeks had taught him anything it was that they had to appreciate each other more. In dealing with his own guilt over the way he’d treated House in the past he decided something. He would never again let House believe he was anything less than the most important person in his life. Whether or not they ever talked about their mutual attraction, or if they just forever kept things as they already were, they had always been much more than just friends. House would always be the most important person to him.
When it was finally time to end their visit Wilson reluctantly got up, saying he was going to speak to Dr. Beck about the release before actually going home. House nodded, knowing that Wilson wouldn’t be happy until he had the whole next week planned down to the moment. Wilson turned toward the door, but House suddenly called him back.
“Um, I’m glad you’re a sucker for lost causes.”
Wilson grinned in response to House’s uncomfortable thank you and nodded before heading off to find Dr. Beck. Wilson had told him weeks ago that when it came time for House’s release he would be on hand to help him get settled in. He reaffirmed this now so that Beck would have no hesitations when it came to actually signing off on everything. If all went well, after a few weeks House would be able to return to work.
Wilson excitedly made his way out to his car. House coming home was the best thing that had happened in weeks, probably months, and he had to share it. He dialed Cuddy’s home from his car and told her the news. She was almost as thrilled as he was, though he could hear the baby in the background and knew that she was probably too busy to really celebrate.
He honestly hadn’t noticed until that moment how strained his relationship with her had been all summer. Those first few weeks he knew that he had taken out a lot of his frustration on people at work. House’s team probably got more than their share and he was quickly becoming known as the person to avoid in his own department. Though he kept Cuddy updated on House’s condition every week and though they had joined forces to ensure his privacy and extended leave of absence, his interactions with her hadn’t been as warm or friendly as they once were. Had he even asked how Rachel was doing recently? It was a long, hard summer for both of them and he knew that she was hurting just like he was. She cared about House. Maybe even loved him, though he didn’t really like to think of it that way.
Had he been jealous? House and Cuddy’s long-term college crush had never bothered him before. Had it been bothering him now just because the situation had changed? He wasn’t sure exactly what House and Cuddy felt for each other. But even if House moved in with Cuddy and they had a hundred babies, he shouldn’t let that get in the way of their friendships with each other. He was pretty sure that wasn’t going to happen, but the only thing that really should matter is that House was happy.
So he decided to make a peace offering. He bought dinner for himself and Cuddy and appeared on her doorstep a little while later. He filled her in on all that was going on with House and she shared all the little details that mothers always shared about their children’s accomplishments. It felt good to connect with someone else again after weeks of his isolated misery.
He knew House wouldn’t mind Cuddy knowing, but Wilson hesitated before contacting Blythe. She knew where her son had been, so it only made sense that she would be informed when he returned home. Yet as Wilson held the phone he felt like a traitor. He had gained some insight into the House family in the past few weeks. He realized that all those years that he was scolding House for avoiding his parents he didn’t have the whole picture. He still didn’t, but now he wondered things. He started connecting the dots and understanding how two people raised someone as troubled and antisocial as House. And given the at least borderline abusive relationship with his dad, he wondered what kind of woman Blythe was to force him into delivering the eulogy.
In the end he called her, but the conversation was very short. He carefully warned her not to contact him, making excuses about him not needing any more stress. He wasn’t exactly sure what the deal was between House and his mom, but there would be time to deal with it later if need be. After fifteen weeks House had come too far to let anything get in his way now.
Week Sixteen
Wilson cleared his entire schedule for that weekend. He rescheduled most of Thursday’s appointments and spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning House’s apartment. Not that it really needed it. He had tidied up nearly every time he’d gone there. Most of the time it was just a quick trip to get the mail, but there had been a few nights when he just didn’t feel like going home. House’s apartment made him feel less lonely, though he would never admit it. In fact, he was determined that House would never know about how much time he had spent there.
He arrived at Mayfield early Friday, unable to stand sitting in one place waiting any longer. As planned, he waited at the car. House had called the previous evening and gave specific orders on his “prison break,” as he called it. He wanted it to all go quickly and smoothly and check out without all of Wilson’s hovering.
Finally the door opened and Wilson stood ready near the car with House’s personal affects. As happy as House had seemed a week ago, now he looked uncertain and maybe a little afraid.
“The last time he was out bad things happened,” Beck had said. “It will take a while for him to trust himself.”
House took his phone, watch, keys and pager back in silence and Wilson threw the suitcase into the back seat. When they were both inside the car Wilson started to say something, but was interrupted by House’s quiet order.
“Drive. Speed if you have to, just get me the hell out of here.”
Wilson didn’t have to be told twice. The drive was every bit as silent as the one there had been. It wasn’t until they parked on Baker Street that House finally spoke.
“It looks different somehow,” he said, staring out at his building.
“Everything probably does after sixteen weeks.”
He nodded and went to the front door, Wilson bringing his bag with them. House paused before opening the door. Everything seemed to be done in baby steps. Finally he swung the door open and looked around.
“Smells like Pine Sol.”
“I may have gotten carried away with the cleaning,” Wilson shrugged. “I also cleaned out your refrigerator and went grocery shopping. Just basics: milk, cereal, a couple frozen meals. I thought you might want to go out yourself, so I just got enough for a few days.” Wilson paused feeling awkward about his next confession. “I also got rid of all the vicodin. Just so there’s no temptation.”
“I thought you might. But did you find all my secret stashes?”
“I think so. But just in case I’ll have Princeton PD bring over one of those narcotics dogs to sniff it out.”
House forced a chuckle, but then his eyes landed on his piano. He limped slowly to the bench and sat down. Hesitantly his fingers ran over the keys, not making a sound.
“I haven’t played since the first night I saw her. I was playing when it happened. I was feeling good, or at least better than I had in a few weeks. And it just happened, out of nowhere. I thought it was insomnia.”
“It’s over now.” He watched House stare at the instrument longingly but with caution, as if he was afraid of it. “If you don’t play, then the hallucinations win. They will have beaten you. You’ve come too far for that.”
House looked up at him and smiled. “I can always count on you for platitudes.”
“That’s me,” he agreed. “So you going to play?”
“Later. You wanna order a pizza? I haven’t had decent pizza in months.”
Just like old times; a pizza was ordered, movies were watched and there was absolutely no mention of Mayfield. Around eleven Wilson knew he should be getting home and said as much to House.
“Unless you need me to stay. Or you can stay at my place. Beck said it might be helpful if you did at first.”
“Wilson, I’m not nuts anymore. I don’t need you to tuck me in.”
He shrugged. “I just didn’t want to run out on you if you wanted company.”
“It’s fine. I should get to sleep soon anyway. I’m still on institution time. And the meds fuck with my sleep schedule. I can’t stay up till three a.m. anymore.”
“What a tragedy.” He stood and put on his jacket. He looked back down at House, wondering if there was anything else he could say to put off leaving any longer. He nodded toward the piano. “Are you going to play?”
“We’ll see.”
Wilson nodded, accepting the answer. He knew it wouldn’t do to push House into it. “Call me if you need anything.”
“Good night, Wilson.”
Wilson let himself out, but just as he was stepping into the street he heard the soft sounds of House’s piano beginning. He turned back toward the window and smiled, listening for a moment before continuing to his car. He still had his worries about House. And he definitely worried about the state of their relationship, given the things that had been said in Mayfield. But hearing House playing again made him feel, for the first time in months, that everything was going to be just fine.
Over the next few weeks Wilson did his duty as a friend, helping House get readjusted to being home and then to being at work. They quickly fell back into their routines of poker games, monster trucks and takeout food. House still stole fries from Wilson’s plate and Wilson still acted like it bothered him. In some ways, it seemed like nothing had changed…