Bestest Buddy 16a: Found

[naughtybookworm]

(Slightly edited since last night...)

As soon as Wilson put his car in “park,” David flung open the shotgun door, and flew to the side entrance of their house. Even though that door was locked, David frantically twisted and rattled the doorknob. Frustrated that he couldn't make his escape as quickly as he wanted, he growled like an animal in pain. He slammed his little fists into the door.


Fearing that David might break the window, and that the glass would cut his hands, Wilson sprinted up the steps and shoved his son aside. “Hold on, David - David! Just WAIT, David.”

David yelped something unintelligible at his Wilson.

“Okay...okay... Just hold on.” Wilson unlocked the door as quickly as he could. Before the key was removed from the keyhole, David twisted the knob and bolted for his room. Wilson ran after his son, but wasn't quick enough to catch up before the boy slammed his bedroom door and locked it.

Wilson darted towards the adjoining bathroom just in time to hear the pocket door to David's room sliding shut, and being locked. “Oh boy...”

Wilson attempted to persuade his son to let him in, or to come out, but his pleas were useless. All he could hear were horrible, ragged sobs, cries that tore at Wilson's heart. He needed to be with David, with his little boy. 'Stupid,' House's voice spoke in Wilson's imagination. 'Just get a screwdriver and poke the hole in the knob.' But Wilson felt it was too much of a violation. Apparently his son needed space, so Wilson would give space, even though he didn't much like it.

He did go to the kitchen and get a small Phillips screwdriver from the tool drawer. 'Just in case,' he told himself. He took off his overcoat, shoes, and tie, and rolled up his sleeves. He sat on the hardwood floor with his back against the wall opposite David's door, and waited. As long as he could hear David crying, Wilson assumed that the child wasn't doing something that would put himself in the hospital again.

“Honey,” Wilson called gently from where he sat. “David, honey, it's going to be okay. You just need to calm down.” He felt useless, actually, and really had no idea that anything would be okay. Wilson could still feel where each of the blows meant for Sammy had landed on his back. The rage inside his son had stunned Wilson. It must have terrified David.

David's raw emotions seemed to settle down into heartbroken sobs. Wilson scooted across the floor and leaned his head against the doorjamb. “That's it, David. Take some easy breaths, like before. You can do it.”

House was suddenly standing at the entrance to the hallway. “What the fuck are you doing?” he asked. He leaned closer to take a good look at his partner. It was only then that Wilson noticed that his own face was wet.

“He's locked himself in, Greg,” Wilson replied as he wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. “He's calming down, though.”

Rolling his eyes, House grabbed the screwdriver from his partner.

“No, Greg - let him have his space...” He grabbed for the screwdriver, but House held it away.

“Shut up, Jimmy.” House poked the hole in the center of the doorknob and barged into David's room.”

Their son was lying face-down on his narrow lower bunk. His entire small body shuddered from his sobs. He seemed not to notice his parents at first, but then, without looking up, he bawled, “Go away, Daddy!”

“No way,” House told him. He shucked his leather jacket and cane, sat down on the edge of the bunk, and started to rub David's rigid little back soothingly. “Come 'ere, kid.” He gently slipped his hands under his son's armpits and dragged the resisting boy from the bed.

“Greg - no,” Wilson protested. “He doesn't want to...”

House ignored Wilson and maneuvered his son's body until he had the boy draped across his lap. “Take him,” House insisted. When Wilson reluctantly took their son into his arms, House rose and headed for the great room. “Come on,” he called over his shoulder.

By the time Wilson arrived in the great room with David in his arms, House was sitting on the sofa. “Right here,” he said, patting the seat next to him. Wilson set the still sobbing child down beside his daddy. As soon as Wilson released the boy, he tried to bolt, but House was too quick for him. He sat the boy down and held him in place until he stopped struggling.

“What happened?” House asked gently. “I want you to tell me everything.”

David didn't answer. Maybe he had to sit there with his parents, but they couldn't make him talk. He wrapped his skinny arms around himself, and stared into space.

House had seen this attitude before, though. He knew that eventually, he'd have the boy talking.

“Sam says that he threw his hat back into the train, and when you went back to get it, the doors closed, and the train took you away.” He looked over at Wilson, who picked up his cue right away.

“Must've been pretty scary,” Wilson commented. “I guess you didn't know how to go about backtracking on the train, huh?”

No juice. David wasn't nearly as easy to goad into talking as House was. Just the idea that House didn't KNOW how to do something would have made him talk.

“Wonder what the hell Sam was thinking, getting you lost in the subway like that?” House mused. David rose to that bait.

“Sam's an asshole,” David blurted out.

David had, under duress, and on rare occasion, used a few vulgar words from time to time. It usually stunned Wilson. But never mind now. They were trying to get to the bottom of things. “Yeah?”

David nodded. He was trying to clam up again, but the feelings and the words were all jumbled up in his brain, and he couldn't hold them in much longer. “'Cause of him, I almost lost everything!”

Wilson was puzzled, but House wasn't at all. “You got lost, and you didn't think you'd ever see us again.” he stated simply.

David nodded, and started to sob again. This time, because he thought his daddy understood, David relaxed into House's side, and let the man hold him.

House turned himself so that he could lie on the sofa. He pulled David with him, settling the child between the back of the seat and his side, then plopped his feet into Wilson's lap. “Tell Dad what happened, David,” he said, his voice soft and gentle.

Through sobs, sometimes through clenched teeth, sometimes with his face buried in his dad's shoulder, David told the story of his afternoon, from the moment the train took him away until the police officer made him snap out of his stupor on the park bench.

Wilson had to fight back tears at the thought of his little boy, lost in the city, paralyzed with fear, and unsure how to even help himself. Even worse, David had believed that he'd lost the security of his home and family, just as he had when he and his mother ran away from Phoenix, where her parents lived. Wilson stroked his son's calf through the wool fabric of his school uniform pants. “Babe, you have to know that we would have looked for you. You know that, don't you?”

David looked at him dumbly.

“Did you think that Daddy and I would just forget all about you and get on with our lives without trying to find you?”

He didn't answer. He didn't want Wilson to know that, in the midst of his shock, that he believed exactly that. That his parents would consider finding one little boy in the vastness of the huge city like finding a needle in a haystack. That they wouldn't bother, because, of course, it would be simpler just to get another kid. David felt stupid now. Of course they would have tried to find him. How else would that policeman have known that he was a lost kid who needed help?

House held him close. “There's no way that could ever happen, buddy.” He pushed David back a little to look into the child's big green eyes. If you hadn't been found, we'd still be looking right now. I had my team on their way to Manhattan. Wilson and I were both headed that way. We had an Amber alert out for you - you know what that is, right?”

David nodded. He didn't say it, but somehow, he'd figured that Amber alerts wouldn't apply to him. Stupid.

House shook his head. “Neither of us would be able to rest until we had you home again, son.”

“Okay,” David whispered.

Wilson had had enough. He held out his arms. “Come here, baby.”

House released him and David clambered over his dad's long legs to get to Wilson.

Holding his son was like finally getting enough oxygen for Wilson. He pulled David into his lap so that the boy was straddling his thighs, and wrapped his around around him. “You belong to us, David. Have you forgotten?” He punctuated his whispered words with kisses all over the boy's face. “You're OUR kid. There's no way in hell we could just forget about you.”

David was so tired that he merely let his body dissolve into Wilson's, and let his 'other dad' coddle him. He was surprised to see tears on Wilson's face. He started to cry again. He hated it when Wilson cried over him.

House waited for the only two people he loved to calm before he sat up and scooted over to Wilson's side. He put one arm around his partner, and placed his free hand on David's arm.

“We're gonna need to talk about Sammy, David,” he announced.

David shook his head and tried to pull away from them. “Don't w-w-wanna t-talk ab-b-out him,”

House patted his son's skinny shoulder. “I don't imagine you do.” He peered intently at his son. “And you're still angry with him.” David still stuttered sometimes if he got angry enough. Usually this happened during a particularly intense therapy session. “Are you planning to hurt Sammy the next time you see him?” House asked him.

The boy lowered his head. “No,” he whispered.

Wilson lifted David's chin until he had to look at them. “We don't hit in this family, David. Never.”

A few fresh tears splashed down David's face. “I didn't mean to, Wilson - I couldn't stop. It's like I was watching myself - like I was somebody else, and I couldn't stop.”

His parents glanced at one another surreptitiously. Dissociation - another symptom of David's post-traumatic stress. His therapist had warned them that their boy might always have a tendency to dissociate under stress. It was how he'd coped with his mother's abuse.

“That must have really scared you.” Wilson observed.

“Did you hear music?” House asked.

“No.” David thought about it. “Yes, but it didn't make any sense.”

Wilson merely observed this part of their conversation, and marveled at how easily his partner understood David's strange relationship to music, and how it had helped him survive.

“Tell me.” House insisted.

David shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “It was just banging piano keys. Not music. Just crazy banging and cymbals crashing. The notes didn't go together.”

“Discord.” House said simply.

David understood discordance in a musical sense. “It made me feel crazy.” He hung his head again, unable to meet their eyes. “I hurt people just like SHE did.” He was speaking so softly now that the men had to strain their ears to hear, "First Sammy, and then...then Wilson. I'm just like her now,” he whispered.

“No, baby,” Wilson said soothingly. “No...you're not like your mother. This is the first time you've ever gotten so angry. Everybody loses it once in a great while. You were scared out of your mind, and furious with Sammy. Those feelings had to come out, somehow.” Then he cautioned, “But if this happens again, I don't want you hurting people - ” He was reminded that, the last time David couldn't handle his feelings, he'd tried to take his own life. “ - or yourself. That's unacceptable.”

David sighed sadly. “He'll probably never want to talk to me again.” He took a deep breath. “Anyway, if he's going to do mean things like making me get lost, I don't want to talk to him, either.

“David, I'm sure Sammy's sorry for throwing your hat into the train,” Wilson said as he firmly held his son by his shoulders. “I'll bet he didn't realize what might happen.”

“He's always doing stupid stuff like that,” David told them, “and that ruins things for everybody else, like when he deflated all the four-square balls, and we had to square dance instead. Why can't he just follow the rules like everybody else?” The boy pressed his lips together firmly, decisively. “I don't NEED a bestest buddy THAT badly.”

“Some people are just like that, David,” Wilson said, looking pointedly at House. “They have to push every boundary, test every rule.” He smiled a little to himself. “But it doesn't mean we can't like them still, and forgive them, and be their friend. Maybe you should think about it for a little while, before you write Sammy off over one mistake.”

“Hey David - what's an 'Indiana Jones?” House thought he had a pretty good idea what Sammy's term meant, but he wanted to hear it from David.

The boy shrugged.

“Sam said he thought you would do an 'Indiana Jones.' With your hat, he said.”

Frowning to himself, David lifted his head and looked at his dad. “Roll under the garage door and reach back to grab your hat - like Indiana Jones does, before the door closes.”

Alarmed now, Wilson's head snapped up. “You haven't really done that, have you?”

David merely looked at Wilson without responding.

Wilson closed his eyes. “We're going to have a conversation about this...soon. But for right now, you're going to have to use your own head, David. You already know that Sammy does some things that aren't very wise. So it's up to you to keep yourself safe and stay out of trouble. Understood?”

“Yeah,” David whispered. Inside, he was slightly horrified. Wilson almost never lectured him like this... On the other hand, things started to feel normal again. And even though he'd been rescued from the park bench hours ago, it was only now that he truly felt he'd been found.

“Good.” Wilson went back to holding him and rubbing his back. “I don't want to have to go over there to claim pieces of my kid.”

The doorbell rang.