House M.D. Fanfiction: Scout's Honor pt 3
Title: Scout’s Honor
Author: pgrabia
Disclaimer: House M.D., its characters, locations and storyline are the property of David Shore, Bad Hat Harry Productions and the Fox Television Network. All Rights Reserved.
Pairing(s): House/Wilson pre-slash (UST), starting with some House/Cuddy and Wilson/Sam (but ending up H/W.).
A/N: A three-part story written in response to The Tic-Tac-Toe Challenge for Camp Sick!Wilson at the Sick!Wilson community at LiveJournal.com. The prompts were: dollhouse, running shoes and rainstorm. The locale is set in Banff National Park and the Town of Banff, Alberta, Canada. I’ve tried to be accurate, but even though I go there every year I am prone to making errors! If you catch any, please forgive me.
UnBeta-ed. All mistakes are completely my own.
Spoiler Alert: This story includes spoilers for all seasons of House M.D. up to and including Season 6 Ep. 22 “Help Me”. This takes approximately two months after the events of the Season Six season finale.
Word Count: 7010
Rating: R (to be safe) for mature themes, sexual language, coarse language, mild violence.
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Part Three
They checked Two Jack Lake first and lucked out almost immediately when House spotted the rental car in the day-use parking lot. Pulling up next to the rental and parking, House was out of the SUV before the engine was stopped. He pressed his face up against the driver’s side window and peered inside, but there were no clues to be found. While he investigated the ranger was in the back of the SUV gathering items. The rain was still coming down pretty good but not nearly as heavily as it had just ten minutes before. Still, it was enough to soak House’s hair and jeans in less than a minute. The water was icy cold and House knew that if he hadn’t been wearing layers on top he’d be shivering by now. The sun had set behind the mountains at least an hour ago and the temperature couldn’t be more than fifty degrees; perfect conditions for hypothermia.
“So what do you think?” the diagnostician demanded of the park ranger who had donned a gear pack over a rain slicker and was holding an extra slicker out to him. “A little late for that,” House told him, rejecting it.
Ferster insisted. “It’ll block the wind at least. Put it on and take this flashlight!”
House took the slicker from him and put it on, pulling the hood up over his wet head. He grabbed the flashlight. “I take it we’re not checking out the campsites.”
“Nope,” Ferster told him. “I already checked this loop before reporting to the police station. I saw this car and called it in but didn’t receive any other instructions. He’s not at the campsite which means he’s out here somewhere. There is a main path straight ahead from here. It branches around the two kilometer mark into two less frequented paths. We’ll take that trail and see if we can find any sign of him. If he was just out to vent some steam then he likely didn’t take the other two trails because they have a fair number of steep inclines and would deter a casual walker.
“There’s a whistle on a lanyard in the right pocket of your slicker. Put it on. Predators aren’t likely to be on the prowl during the storm but there are no guarantees. That whistle can be the difference between getting lost and being killed by a bear or a wolf, or even a cougar, and walking out of these woods alive. Try to make noise as you walk so we don’t come upon an animal by surprise. With predators it’s usually fight rather than flight and even non-predatory animals will attack if startled or cornered. We stick together and stay on the paths at all times. Remember, I’ve got the radio, the GPS, the bear spray and the tranquilizer gun.
“When I say it’s time to stop and turn back, we stop and turn back. No arguments! I could be in shit for being out here in weather like this after dark; if I lose you along the way I’ll want to flee the country! If you stay on the path you shouldn’t have to bush-whack, but be careful of the tree roots and low lying vegetation. If you start to shiver, feel dizzy or disoriented, or if you feel the urge to sit down and sleep let me know right away--.”
“I’m familiar with the symptoms of hypothermia, Ferster,” House told him impatiently. “Let’s go already!”
The park ranger led the way at a moderate pace, obviously mindful of the fact that House’s bad leg was going to make this more difficult. At regularly paced distances Ferster marked their trail with fluorescent pink tape. It reminded House of the story of Hansel and Gretel and the dropping of bread crumbs. He shook his head at himself, wondering where the hell that came from. Oh yeah. He’d read that story to Rachel before Cuddy and he had left Princeton.
The diagnostician knew he had no business hiking along mountain paths in perfect conditions, much less in the dark in a storm. The ground was wet, soft and slippery in places, undergrowth was as dangerous as myriads of trip-wire, and the terrain could be quite steep; it was the perfect breeding ground for an epic fail or two. However, House wasn’t about to stop, head back to the Range Rover and wait for daylight. For all he knew, Wilson could be dead already or close to it and if he was located he would need immediate medical attention. He was in on this, for better or for worse.
They took it slowly and carefully and House had only one near fall after twenty minutes. He had lucked out so far with the terrain and for the most part it was fairly level. His leg was hurting almost as much as it had while crawling through the rubble of an office building made by the Trenton crane disaster. At least in this situation he didn’t have the constant concern of the building over his head coming down suddenly on top of him and crushing him. He forced himself to ignore as much of the pain as possible, but he knew that there was a limit to how much abuse his ruined thigh could take and he was nearing it.
Ferster stopped short in front of him and swept his flashlight over vegetation off the beaten path. House added his flashlight beam to his area of concentration, wondering what it was that had alerted the ranger. As if reading his mind, the other pointed out what had caught his eye.
“Someone left the path here. See the branches, how they’ve been snapped? And those low-lying plants, how they look like they’ve been stomped on? It’s all fresh. The appearance of the breakage and trampling looks like something cause by a human, not wildlife. Someone headed in this direction and I’m guessing it was someone inexperienced in trail blazing.”
“Sounds like Wilson,” House told him grimly, trying to sound sarcastic but failing. He was too tired to crack even gallows humor at that point. “Well, let’s not just stand here!”
Ferster looked at House dubiously. “Are you sure you can make it through there, Doctor? There are more hazards than what we’ve encountered so far.”
House looked at the plant growth ahead of him and really wasn’t certain that he could navigate it. He cursed his damned leg for the millionth time before setting his jaw in determination. He had to make it. He was more convinced than ever that Wilson was in trouble and needed him. The diagnostician didn’t know how he knew that; he just did.
“Let’s go!” House told him decisively.
Ferster gave him one last glance before turning around and stepping off of the more established trail. Knowing full well that he was getting himself in over his head House followed. He was able to keep up fairly well at first, but snagged a couple of times on tree roots and hidden logs and he fell once when his cane hit a patch of wet, slippery leaves and it slid out from under him. Fortunately his pride was hurt a hell of a lot worse than his body, but it did put into question whether he could continue on much further.
Lucky for him, he didn’t have to. The vegetation began to thin until they reached a clearing of some kind. House quickly identified the sounds he heard ahead; they had reached some source of running water.
“Be careful, Dr. House!” Ferster warned him abruptly, putting up a restraining arm. “The ground and rocks along the edge are extremely slippery! Stay where you are and I’ll take a closer look.”
This time the diagnostician didn’t argue; he kept his flashlight trained on the ranger as he stepped about ten feet further and then stopped and bent down to look at something. He was flashing his light on some large rocks just along the stream’s edge.
“Doctor!” Ferster called, turning to look back at House. “There’s something here!” The ranger turned back to the stream and carefully crouched down; the doctor watched as the other man yanked at something that was caught trapped between the rocks. It took him a little effort to free whatever it was and then quickly brought it back to House.
“I think…I think it’s a strip off of a pair of jeans,” Ferster commented.
House concurred. He looked up at the ranger and nodded grimly, his heart beating hard and fast in his chest; he studied it under the direct light of the flashlight. “There’s blood on it.”
Ferster said nothing. There wasn’t much to say.
“He fell into the stream,” House’s throat constricted to the point where he wasn’t certain he could speak but he tried, “and got swept downstream with the current?”
Avoiding his gaze, the ranger nodded. “Looks like somebody did.” He sighed. The ranger looked exhausted and there was a hint of defeat in his eyes that terrified House to see. “God only knows how far…there’s no guarantee he was able to make his way to shore…. Doctor, I think we’ve gone about as far as we can go tonight.”
House didn’t want to hear it; the other man was giving up on finding Wilson alive. The chances of him surviving a fall into the deceptively deep, ice cold current were decidedly slim, but the small part of House that didn’t eat, breathe and sleep logic refused to admit defeat. Wilson wasn’t dead, couldn’t be dead and House wasn’t ready to give up on him yet.
“We’re not fucking stopping and turning back!” the diagnostician screamed in the ranger’s face. “Not now! Wilson’s strong; if there was any chance of him making it to dry land he did it. We’ve got to follow this downstream until we find him!”
“Dr. House--.” Ferster began to say as he placed a hand on his shoulder in an effort to calm and comfort him.
House violently shrugged him off. “He’s still alive and I’m not giving up!”
The park ranger shook his head sadly. “It’s time to turn back now. If he did manage to swim to safety it could have been to either river bank. There’s no way either of us is going to attempt crossing this stream, especially at night. I’ll shoot you with a tranquilizer dart if you even try! If he did make it to shore then we’ll find him in daylight.”
“He did make it!” House snarled. If he had been able to be objective for a moment he would have seen how irrational his thinking was at that moment but he wasn’t so he couldn’t. “He’s wet and cold and could be succumbing to hypothermia; you turn back and go suck your thumb until morning! I’m heading downstream!”
House limped away, gritting his teeth against the pain from his leg; standing still for so long had caused the muscle to begin to stiffen. He didn’t look back when Ferster yelled at him to stop and to come back, that it was too dangerous for him out here all alone. House knew that but he didn’t give a fuck. If they didn’t find Wilson soon and alive, the diagnostician didn’t care what became of his own life. He’d managed to cover a meager twenty feet or so when he heard the crunch of footfall behind him. He smiled without satisfaction. It was possible that he could like this Ferster person if he so had the inclination.
House had no idea how long they had been walking after that; Ferster had taken the lead again and they’d had to stop twice for House to rest his leg for a few minutes. The pain was spiking around a seven or eight out of ten and it took everything House had not to collapse in a screaming, weeping heap. The further they went, the longer they were out, the more the hope he had of ever seeing his friend alive again waned.
So, when Ferster stopped short again and held up his hand as a signal to House, the limping man wasn’t expecting what he heard the ranger say next.
“There’s someone up ahead!”
House’s heart stopped beating for what seemed like an eternity as his eyes tried to see what it was Ferster was pointing his beam of light on. Suddenly House dropped his cane, hurrying as quickly as he could hobble to the body lying prostrate on the forest floor. Once he reached it, House dropped to his knees, letting out a small shriek from the pain of it. He had to turn around quickly and vomit until there was nothing left in his stomach to bring up but bile. Once the nausea passed, he carefully flipped the body over and tears stung his eyes when he saw Wilson’s bruised face and blue lips. He felt tears run unabated down his face. He checked for a radial pulse but couldn’t find one. Next he checked for a carotid and sighed heavily in relief when he found one. It was dangerously weak and slow, as was Wilson’s breathing.
“He’s alive but badly hypothermic!” House told Ferster as the ranger removed his gear pack and knelt next to Wilson on the ground. They set work trying to keep the oncologist-and themselves-alive. Ferster was able to determine their position with the GPS device in his pack and was able to raise a weak signal on his radio to call for back-up help. He pulled out a large silver reflective emergency blanket; House decided that the ankle wasn’t the priority even though it was a compound fracture; re-warming Wilson was. He set to work removing Wilson’s soaked clothing. He removed his own clothing to the point where he was able to press his bare chest and abdomen against Wilson’s and pull him into a bear hug; the younger doctor’s head flopped lifelessly onto House’s shoulder; the diagnostician gave a brief shiver at the feeling of the lifeless, ice cold body against his warm skin. It was like embracing a corpse.
Wilson’s body temperature was so low that House wondered if he would pull through now that they had finally located him. He forced the doubts out of his head as best as he could and concentrated on sharing as much of his body heat with his friend as possible while Ferster wrapped them up securely in the thermal blanket. The ranger then set up a makeshift rain shelter using a tarpaulin, rope and a couple of trees. House talked softly into the younger man’s ear, more to sooth himself than for any other reason.
“It’s okay, Wilson,” he said softly in his low, growly voice. “You’re going to warm up and then we’ll deal with everything else. If you don’t keep fighting then I’m dumping your ass as my best friend! Everything is going to be okay and then things can get back to normal; I’ll stalk you and annoy you to the brink of insanity and you’ll be my Jewish mother and nag me until I’m ready to knock you senseless with my cane. I’ll make time for you, though you may have to come over to Cuddy’s if I end up having to baby-sit-God, I can’t believe how lame that sounds! Wilson, I don’t want to be Cuddy’s lap dog anymore.” He was quiet for a little while. There was no sign of life from the man and House had to continue to check for his pulse and breath sounds to assure himself that the oncologist was still alive.
“Doctor,” Ferster said to him, coming to sit under the shelter with them. “I was just in contact with the base. There’s a rescue team on its way. They know our position so they’ll be able to find us fairly easily but it might be as much as an hour yet before they arrive. They’ll be carrying you and Dr. Wilson out on a gurney.” The ranger nodded at Wilson. “How is he?”
“Not good,” House answered tersely. “I just hope he is able to survive the hour.”
“Me, too,” Ferster concurred grimly and fell silent.
It was difficult to move in the cocoon the ranger had wrapped around them, But House was able to move his arms sufficiently to reach up at one point and brush strands of wet, dripping hair off of the younger man’s brow, not that he was conscious to notice. It didn’t matter; the older man did it anyway.
“It’ll be just like old times,” House continued, whispering into Wilson’s ear. “We’ll drink beer and eat pizza and argue over the retarded chick-flicks you force me to watch. Wait…forget the beer. You and I are going back onto the wagon together. We’ll drink sodas instead. We’ll figure this thing out with you and Sam and me and Cuddy. Just don’t fuck things up by doing something stupid like dying. Okay? You idiot…how do you always get me mixed up in things like this…?”
House’s voice broke. He tried clearing his throat but it wasn’t phlegm that was impeding his ability to keep talking. He leaned his head against Wilson’s and swallowed hard at the lump that had found its way to his throat. He had often wondered what it would be like to be embracing the younger man this closely, skin to skin but never had he imagined it being anything as painful and frightening as this.
“I’m only going to tell you this once, so don’t forget it,” House whispered softly. “I can’t lose you because without you in my life I’m completely lost. Cuddy…Cuddy is just not the same. I’ve missed you so much these past few months. In fact, I’ve been…miserable. I’m sorry for neglecting you. Don’t tell anyone this, but…but I wanted it to be you who came to me the night of the crane disaster. I needed you. I didn’t understand then why you stayed away but after being in a relationship with Lisa for a couple of months, I think I can understand better now. It’s okay. It doesn’t matter anymore, it’s over.”
He paused to check Wilson’s pulse again before speaking further. “I was so…incredibly fucked up. I clung to Cuddy when you didn’t come…but I don’t want to be with Cuddy; I want to be with you! I swear to god I’ll seek revenge if you tell anyone about this conversation!” The diagnostician sighed. “I need you, you moron! All I have ever needed is you. I…I…l-love you. Like Romeo loves Juliet and all of that other sentimental bullshit. Maybe someday I’ll be able to tell you that when you’re awake and able to hear me. Until then, I’ll just have to keep chasing my rivals away and drive you insane in the process. I could wait an eternity if I thought telling you would ruin our friendship worse than it already is-but I hope I won’t have to.”
The diagnostician hesitated only a moment before pressing a tender kiss into Wilson’s wet brown hair. Beside him, Ferster had moved a little further away, not out of disgust at what he had heard but rather to give the two friends more privacy. He had his head turned, looking out into the dark, watching for the rescue team to arrive.
(“~*~”)
Wilson opened his eyes slowly and then clamped them shut again against the assault of light that had just hit him. He felt the presence of another person nearby and could feel someone holding his hand. He heard the typical noise of an Intensive Care unit. Every part of his body ached or stung; his head throbbed, the skin on his chest burned angrily, his stomach felt like it was on fire and his ankle bitched at him mercilessly. When he felt brave enough he attempted opening his eyes again, much slower this time. Everything was blurry and he could only make out the shape of a person sitting next to his bed. As his eyes opened further they began to focus.
He was disappointed to see who the person was. Sam Carr sat in a chair next to his hospital bed. She held his hand with one of hers and flipped the pages of the magazine she was perusing with the other. Her hand was cold and that’s exactly the feeling Wilson had when he discovered that the person sitting vigil was her: cold and indifferent.
He had hoped that it would be House sitting there. He realized that the diagnostician must be with Cuddy somewhere and felt the cold claw of jealousy grip his heart.
He looked lazily at his surroundings and tried to piece together what all he could remember, which wasn’t much. He remembered going on his hike and the stream. The image of the water coming at him (or rather, him falling into the water) was fairly clear as was the numbing pain from the ice cold water. He could faintly remember pulling himself on his belly onto the hard ground. Then there was nothing until a brief memory fragment of hearing House’s voice in his ears. He couldn’t understand what he was saying, but it was definitely his friend’s voice speaking so soothingly, so unlike the way he usually spoke. He could remember the sound of a helicopter and then blackness; after that a flash of House’s face staring directly down at him, his lips moving without any sound coming out of his mouth this time. He looked frightened. That was all that returned to him. He had so many questions that he wanted to ask House, not Sam-not her.
Just having her touch his hand made his skin crawl. He pulled his hand away, catching the blonde’s attention for the first time since he had awakened. She frowned slightly, setting the magazine aside; then she turned on her big-lipped, coral-slicked phony-looking smile and the oncologist felt his stomach turn.
“Oh James!” she practically squealed. “You had me so worried! Don’t ever hurt yourself like this again because next time I just don’t know if I could take it--!”
“Where’s House?” he demanded, frowning. His throat was sore and his voice raspy, likely from being intubated at one point. “I want to see House, now.”
“He’s not here,” she told him. “He and Lisa went back to their hotel shortly after you arrived here. I’m sure he’ll be by to see you later. In the meantime we have to discuss the details about your transfer back home once the doctors here think you’re stable enough to be flown back--.”
“Get a hold of the hotel right now,” Wilson told her unrelentingly. “Tell House I want to see him as soon as he can get here!”
“What’s the hurry, James?” Sam insisted, becoming indignant. “You’ll see him. I’m here with you right now. I’m your girlfriend, for Pete’s sake!”
Wilson ignored her; he reached for the control panel on his bedrail and pressed the call button. Within thirty seconds a nurse appeared in his doorway.
“Well Hello!” The nurse said to him with a pleasant smile. “It’s nice to see that you’re awake, Dr. Wilson. How are you feeling?”
“I’ve been better,” he answered a little more abruptly than he intended, and smiled apologetically. “I would like you to get a hold of my friend. His name is Dr. Gregory House. I’m sure he left a contact number with someone here. I need to see him right away.”
“James,” Sam tried to cut in but once again Wilson ignored her and cut her off.
“I would really appreciate it,” he added with a warm smile, the one that had caused his share of nurses to swoon in the past.
“Certainly,” the nurse answered with a smile, pointing with her thumb behind her towards the waiting room, “but Dr. Carr had him held by security--.”
“James!” Sam said against much more insistently. Her eyes were as round as tea saucers and he could tell that she was extremely nervous. “That’s--.”
“-when he refused to leave your room,” the nurse continued without pausing. “He’s being held by security in the waiting area for now.”
Wilson turned his head to glare pure hatred at his ex-wife. She frowned impudently and had crossed her arms in defiance upon it being found out that she had been lying to him. She looked exactly like the woman who had heartlessly dumped him twenty years ago. She hadn’t changed a bit in all of that time, but in this case, to say so wasn’t a compliment.
Wilson kept his angry gaze on Sam as he said to the nurse, “I want him released! He’s my best friend and I want him here!”
“Of course,” the nurse responded, looking at Sam with a shrewd smirk on her face before leaving the room.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the oncologist demanded of her angrily but weakly. “Where do you get off having him apprehended like that!”
“I’m your fiancée, so I think I have some say--!” Sam began to answer but Wilson’s angry, spiteful laughter cut her off.
“You are NOT my fiancée!” he spat at her viciously.
“We talked about getting remarried--!” she protested, her eyes widening.
“YOU talked about it!” Wilson told her. “I got drunk. You’ll never be my fiancée again; you’re not even my girlfriend anymore!”
“You’re dumping me for thinking about what was best for you?” the blonde shrieked indignantly.
“No,” Wilson sneered in disgust. “You were only thinking about you, as usual. Get out of here and don’t come back Sam. I have had enough of your lies and manipulation. I’ve been in denial of the fact that you really haven’t changed like you said you have. I can’t stomach you anymore! Go back to Princeton, pack up your stuff and get out of the loft; I don’t want to find you still there when get home.”
“But James!” she protested shrilly, rolling her eyes and speaking to him as if he were an idiot. “You’re overreacting, as usual! So I lied--so what? I did it to protect you! Have you forgotten about the way he’s used you in the past?”
“If House has ‘used’ me, as you put it, then it’s my own fault for allowing him,” Wilson snapped. “I’ve used him too-I’ve been using him as my back-up plan when my ill-thought out relationships crash and burn; he deserves to be treated better by me than that and it’s damned time I do!”
House had stepped into the room about fifteen seconds previously and was standing silently just inside the door, unnoticed.
“Sam,” Wilson said in a very quiet but menacing tone of voice, running out of patience, “Get your bony ass out of here or I’ll have security drag you out! Go!”
“James,” she said, shifting immediately into a conciliatory tone of voice, placing a hand on his arm. “You’ve just been through a terribly traumatic experience, honey, and you’re not thinking rationally! Get some rest, take some time to think and I’m certain you’ll come to see that you’re making a mistake!”
“You’re the one who is mistaken,” Wilson practically growled, “if you think I’m going to change my mind. Get out or I’m ringing for the nurse to call security!” He lightly rested a finger against the call button.
She glared down at him with open-mouthed shock for a moment or two. Then she closed her mouth and scowled.
“He won’t have to get security,” House spoke up, startling both Wilson and Sam. He was on a pair of crutches instead of using his cane as he moved towards the woman, smiling banefully at her, his eyes gloating. “Don’t let these crutches fool you--I’LL drag you out hopping on one foot if I have to! Say bye-bye and fly away, you filthy Harpy!”
There were tears of fury in the outer corners of Sam’s eyes. She stomped a foot angrily and then strode to the door. Before she could leave, however, House stepped in her way and grinned down at her with a combination of smugness and hate.
“I told you I’d outlast you!” he murmured, his voice dripping with venom. He appeared to be enjoying every little bit of her discomfort. Sam met his gaze and scowled at him bitterly; the diagnostician stepped aside and she marched out of the room, stomping her feet like a spoiled little girl.
“I’m so proud of you!” House told the oncologist with a sardonic smirk-but his brilliant blue eyes were smiling at him. “I suppose this wouldn’t be a good time to say that I told you so?”
Wilson couldn’t resist smiling and shook his head. “Not really. I’m grateful for your restraint.”
“No problem,” House replied, taking the seat that Sam had just vacated. “This is the smartest thing you’ve done in months!”
“I think you’re right-again. God I hate it when you’re right!” Wilson exclaimed, shaking his head.
“No wonder why you’re miserable,” the older doctor told him smugly. “I’m always right!”
Wilson chuckled and stared at his friend fondly; House’s eyes softened when they caught his gaze and held it. They sat there silently like that for a few moments until the younger doctor spoke.
“I’m sorry,” he told his friend sincerely. “I should have listened to you. Instead, I pushed you away. I’m a stupid ass!”
“Yes,” House agreed mildly, nodding. “You are. But look on the bright side.”
“What bright side?” Wilson asked quizzically. As far as he could see, there wasn’t a bright side to the disaster that was his relationship with Sam.
“You didn’t marry her again, so she can’t bleed you dry in another nasty divorce,” the older man quipped. Wilson smirked ruefully at that.
“Yeah,” the younger man sighed, “lucky me.” He looked House in the eyes, forcing a smile onto his lips and knowing as he did that it wouldn’t fool him. “Where exactly am I, anyway?”
“Foothills Hospital in Calgary,” the diagnostician answered. “You were stabilized as best as possible in Banff and then rushed by air ambulance here. You arrested mid-flight; it’s a good thing you have a stubborn bastard for a friend.”
“I know,” Wilson told him softly; he was lucky. “At least that explains why my chest feels like it’s on fire.”
“You smell like Hickory-smoked Jew,” House joked, amused with himself.
Wilson chuckled again and then moaned. Apparently he had a damaged rib or two as well.
“So where’s Cuddy?” the oncologist asked, trying to sound nonchalant but the truth was the mere thought of her triggered intense feelings of jealousy; He didn’t even try to deny it. He was in love with House; he knew that admitting he was addicted to the diagnostician was the first step to recovery-not that he wanted to recover from that particular problem. If only House felt the same way, but it was ridiculous to even hope for that.
House took a breath and filled his cheeks with air before blowing it out. “She took the first available flight home this morning. She’s probably already there.” His voice sounded even more somber than he looked.
“Everything okay?” the oncologist asked cautiously, sensing that everything was not.
“Depends on how you look at it,” was the answer. “If you’re referring to things between Lisa and me being okay, then no. If you’re referring to things with me in general, then…yeah, surprisingly they are.”
“Oh,” Wilson said, looking down at his blanket thoughtfully. He couldn’t help but feel a little bit of guilty pleasure at hearing that. “What happened?”
“Oh, nothing much,” House told him and Wilson saw a gleam develop in his eyes. “She just happened to hear me say something to you while you were still in your coma that she didn’t like.”
Frowning in confusion, the younger man asked, “And what was that?”
House sighed, looking a little sheepish and reluctant to answer. “I…was telling you that…that…,” he sighed again and licked his lips nervously. He reached over suddenly and grabbed Wilson’s hand, holding it gently, catching the younger man by surprise. The pianist’s long-fingers entwined with his; House’s hands were moist and trembling slightly.
Taking a deep, shaky breath, the diagnostician began again, “I said that I wasn’t in love with her because…because I’m in love with…y-you.” Shy, almost fearful blue orbs searched Wilson’s brown ones pleadingly. They said, ‘Please don’t hate me now!’
Relief and joy washed over Wilson like a giant, warm and comforting wave. He felt his eyes sting and had to blink back the tears that were forming there. He knew House would never let him live it down if he began to cry. He had no words to describe what he was feeling, and even if he had, he didn’t think he could speak them.
“Wow,” was all Wilson was able to utter, unable to tear his eyes away from the older man’s face.
“That’s it?” the diagnostician asked incredulously, his voice quavering. “I tell you that I’m in love with you--probably for the last time in your lifetime, by the way--and all I get is ‘wow’?”
House suddenly rose from his chair, looking like he was going to bolt, but Wilson refused to let go of his hand.
“Don’t go! Please! I just never thought I’d ever hear you say those words and especially not to me,” Wilson told him quickly. “House, I…I-I’m in love with you, too! Oh my god!” The oncologist looked away, shaking his head.
The older man’s body visibly relaxed and he started to breathe again. He sat again.
“Yeah,’ House replied softly, appearing to be as stunned as the oncologist felt, slowly sitting down again, “I know. It’s…fucking mind-blowing, isn’t it?”
Wilson nodded in agreement. After a moment he asked, “So what do we do now?”
House half-smiled. “I was hoping you would know.”
“How would I know?” Wilson asked quizzically. “I’ve never been in love with my male best friend before!”
“Oh, yeah,” House said softly and then shrugged. “I guess we just go with the flow. We’ve got a couple of days to get used to this before you’re strong enough to fly home. Hell, we’ve been practically married for years now; half of everybody we know already thinks we’re gay, so we should be able to work things out quickly enough.”
Nodding, Wilson squeezed House’s hand. He sensed fear coming from the older man and he wanted to address it right away. “Are you afraid…that if we…become intimate…that it will fail and we’ll destroy our friendship?"
House nodded slowly,swallowing. “Yeah,” he confessed, whispering, “I am.”
“Me, too,” the oncologist agreed. “But we don’t know that it will. We’ve already been through a lot together…maybe this is the right one for both of us. Maybe everything that’s happened up to now has been preparing us for…us. I don’t want to run away from what could be the greatest thing to ever happen to me based on a bunch of what ifs…do you?”
“No,” the diagnostician replied. “Jesus…Wilson, fuck, I don’t know how to say this without coming off as a total asshole!”
“That’s never stopped you before,” Wilson retorted drolly. He was trying to appear confident, but this was beginning to make him very nervous. Was this where his best friend told him that he had changed his mind and was going to try to salvage things with Cuddy after all?
“I’m not kidding.” House closed his eyes for a moment and seeing the internal conflict inside of him appearing externally the younger man realized just how serious he was.
“Just tell me,” he told the older man, almost pleading with him.
It took several moments before House was able to speak and when he did, it was tentatively, like at any moment he expected Wilson to fly into a range and never speak to him again. “I want to believe it would be different with us, but…shit, Wilson! I couldn’t handle it if you--!”
“-If I cheated on you,” Wilson finished for him, feeling nausea wash over him and churn up his stomach. He understood House’s hesitation in bringing it up; it had always been a touchy subject for him, but the oncologist couldn’t fault him for worrying about that. His past history didn’t speak well for him, he knew; but in spite of that he knew that things would be different with House. Amber was to thank for that, actually. She had shown him that he was capable of being in a relationship where he didn’t have to let resentment build to the point where he retaliated by being unfaithful. They had only been together a few months, but she’d forced him to stop being such a doormat with her and to be more assertive. House was able to do the same thing. He knew he could respond differently with House and still be accepted by him.
“Yeah,” House whispered, looking away.
“Look at me, House,” the younger man said to him without anger and waited until his best friend did until he continued. “The difference with you is that…that for years you’ve cared for me when I’ve been a jerk, you’ve accepted me in spite of every rotten thing you know about me. Whenever you’ve jumped down my throat, I knew in the back of my mind that it was because…because you didn’t want to see me make the same mistakes over and over again--because you cared. You’ve forgiven me when I haven’t deserved to be forgiven. You’ve accepted me for who I am, not for who you want to make me and you don’t allow me to become complacent, bored and then resentful. You push me to the point of breaking…but you’re always there to support me and keep me from completely falling apart. Nobody-nobody-has ever loved me for me, except you. Somehow, I know that’s what’s going to make things different for us.”
House’s eyes were as close to tears as Wilson had seen them outside of those times when he would sob from the torturous agony in his leg. This was not to say that the older man was about to cry, but there was a gratefulness, a hint of genuine affection that Wilson hadn’t been exposed to before now and he could help but feel privileged to be the one to see it.
“Okay,” House said simply, allowing a hopeful smile cross his lips. Leaning in towards Wilson until their faces were nearly touching House sighed and then hesitated only a moment before briefly caressing the younger man’s lips with his; he pulled back and searched Wilson’s face for a reaction.
Smiling softly, Wilson released his grip on House’s hand and brought it up to rest at the base of his best friend’s skull; he gently pulled the older man’s face in for another kiss, only this one was deeper and lingered. Wilson could feel the diagnostician smile against his mouth and kiss back passionately, his hands coming to gently cradle the younger man’s face. Wilson was the first to slide his tongue into House’s willing mouth but soon both sliding and caressing over each other’s. Running out of breath, Wilson withdrew, panting lightly and resting his forehead against House’s.
House was also breathing heavier than normal, smiling ever so slightly.
Wilson whispered. “Damn, you’re a good kisser!”
House rolled his eyes, “Could you sound any gayer?” he asked sarcastically. He paused a moment before becoming serious. “You need help, Wilson--your drinking has to stop. I don’t want to start something only to have you kill yourself with booze. I need you.”
Wilson pulled back but still kept his hand resting on the back of House’s neck. He nodded slowly. “I know…but I’m scared.” It was a hard confession for him to make, even to himself, but what the hell? All sorts of confessions were being made between the two of them today.
“Good,” House replied with a single nod. “That means you care. Chase tried to get me to go to A.A. meetings with him a while back but I never went. We can go together.”
Nodding the oncologist frowned slightly. “Chase is an alcoholic?”
“He’s definitely an abuser,” House answered. “I don’t know if he was actually dependent, though. I got out of him that it started just before Cameron left and then got worse thereafter. He realized one day that it was becoming a problem and started attending. I think that going would be wise for both of us.”
“Okay,” Wilson whispered with a half-shrug, “we’ll go.”
His eyes smiling in satisfaction and relief House asked, “You promise?”
Wilson smirked, raising two fingers in salute. “Scout’s honor.”
Scowling suspiciously, House said, “I remember you telling me that you were never a Boy Scout.”
Wilson shrugged. “I never was, but I’ll go with you to A.A. anyway.”
House grinned as he leaned in for another kiss.
~Fin~
Part One
Part Two
Author: pgrabia
Disclaimer: House M.D., its characters, locations and storyline are the property of David Shore, Bad Hat Harry Productions and the Fox Television Network. All Rights Reserved.
Pairing(s): House/Wilson pre-slash (UST), starting with some House/Cuddy and Wilson/Sam (but ending up H/W.).
A/N: A three-part story written in response to The Tic-Tac-Toe Challenge for Camp Sick!Wilson at the Sick!Wilson community at LiveJournal.com. The prompts were: dollhouse, running shoes and rainstorm. The locale is set in Banff National Park and the Town of Banff, Alberta, Canada. I’ve tried to be accurate, but even though I go there every year I am prone to making errors! If you catch any, please forgive me.
UnBeta-ed. All mistakes are completely my own.
Spoiler Alert: This story includes spoilers for all seasons of House M.D. up to and including Season 6 Ep. 22 “Help Me”. This takes approximately two months after the events of the Season Six season finale.
Word Count: 7010
Rating: R (to be safe) for mature themes, sexual language, coarse language, mild violence.
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Part Three
They checked Two Jack Lake first and lucked out almost immediately when House spotted the rental car in the day-use parking lot. Pulling up next to the rental and parking, House was out of the SUV before the engine was stopped. He pressed his face up against the driver’s side window and peered inside, but there were no clues to be found. While he investigated the ranger was in the back of the SUV gathering items. The rain was still coming down pretty good but not nearly as heavily as it had just ten minutes before. Still, it was enough to soak House’s hair and jeans in less than a minute. The water was icy cold and House knew that if he hadn’t been wearing layers on top he’d be shivering by now. The sun had set behind the mountains at least an hour ago and the temperature couldn’t be more than fifty degrees; perfect conditions for hypothermia.
“So what do you think?” the diagnostician demanded of the park ranger who had donned a gear pack over a rain slicker and was holding an extra slicker out to him. “A little late for that,” House told him, rejecting it.
Ferster insisted. “It’ll block the wind at least. Put it on and take this flashlight!”
House took the slicker from him and put it on, pulling the hood up over his wet head. He grabbed the flashlight. “I take it we’re not checking out the campsites.”
“Nope,” Ferster told him. “I already checked this loop before reporting to the police station. I saw this car and called it in but didn’t receive any other instructions. He’s not at the campsite which means he’s out here somewhere. There is a main path straight ahead from here. It branches around the two kilometer mark into two less frequented paths. We’ll take that trail and see if we can find any sign of him. If he was just out to vent some steam then he likely didn’t take the other two trails because they have a fair number of steep inclines and would deter a casual walker.
“There’s a whistle on a lanyard in the right pocket of your slicker. Put it on. Predators aren’t likely to be on the prowl during the storm but there are no guarantees. That whistle can be the difference between getting lost and being killed by a bear or a wolf, or even a cougar, and walking out of these woods alive. Try to make noise as you walk so we don’t come upon an animal by surprise. With predators it’s usually fight rather than flight and even non-predatory animals will attack if startled or cornered. We stick together and stay on the paths at all times. Remember, I’ve got the radio, the GPS, the bear spray and the tranquilizer gun.
“When I say it’s time to stop and turn back, we stop and turn back. No arguments! I could be in shit for being out here in weather like this after dark; if I lose you along the way I’ll want to flee the country! If you stay on the path you shouldn’t have to bush-whack, but be careful of the tree roots and low lying vegetation. If you start to shiver, feel dizzy or disoriented, or if you feel the urge to sit down and sleep let me know right away--.”
“I’m familiar with the symptoms of hypothermia, Ferster,” House told him impatiently. “Let’s go already!”
The park ranger led the way at a moderate pace, obviously mindful of the fact that House’s bad leg was going to make this more difficult. At regularly paced distances Ferster marked their trail with fluorescent pink tape. It reminded House of the story of Hansel and Gretel and the dropping of bread crumbs. He shook his head at himself, wondering where the hell that came from. Oh yeah. He’d read that story to Rachel before Cuddy and he had left Princeton.
The diagnostician knew he had no business hiking along mountain paths in perfect conditions, much less in the dark in a storm. The ground was wet, soft and slippery in places, undergrowth was as dangerous as myriads of trip-wire, and the terrain could be quite steep; it was the perfect breeding ground for an epic fail or two. However, House wasn’t about to stop, head back to the Range Rover and wait for daylight. For all he knew, Wilson could be dead already or close to it and if he was located he would need immediate medical attention. He was in on this, for better or for worse.
They took it slowly and carefully and House had only one near fall after twenty minutes. He had lucked out so far with the terrain and for the most part it was fairly level. His leg was hurting almost as much as it had while crawling through the rubble of an office building made by the Trenton crane disaster. At least in this situation he didn’t have the constant concern of the building over his head coming down suddenly on top of him and crushing him. He forced himself to ignore as much of the pain as possible, but he knew that there was a limit to how much abuse his ruined thigh could take and he was nearing it.
Ferster stopped short in front of him and swept his flashlight over vegetation off the beaten path. House added his flashlight beam to his area of concentration, wondering what it was that had alerted the ranger. As if reading his mind, the other pointed out what had caught his eye.
“Someone left the path here. See the branches, how they’ve been snapped? And those low-lying plants, how they look like they’ve been stomped on? It’s all fresh. The appearance of the breakage and trampling looks like something cause by a human, not wildlife. Someone headed in this direction and I’m guessing it was someone inexperienced in trail blazing.”
“Sounds like Wilson,” House told him grimly, trying to sound sarcastic but failing. He was too tired to crack even gallows humor at that point. “Well, let’s not just stand here!”
Ferster looked at House dubiously. “Are you sure you can make it through there, Doctor? There are more hazards than what we’ve encountered so far.”
House looked at the plant growth ahead of him and really wasn’t certain that he could navigate it. He cursed his damned leg for the millionth time before setting his jaw in determination. He had to make it. He was more convinced than ever that Wilson was in trouble and needed him. The diagnostician didn’t know how he knew that; he just did.
“Let’s go!” House told him decisively.
Ferster gave him one last glance before turning around and stepping off of the more established trail. Knowing full well that he was getting himself in over his head House followed. He was able to keep up fairly well at first, but snagged a couple of times on tree roots and hidden logs and he fell once when his cane hit a patch of wet, slippery leaves and it slid out from under him. Fortunately his pride was hurt a hell of a lot worse than his body, but it did put into question whether he could continue on much further.
Lucky for him, he didn’t have to. The vegetation began to thin until they reached a clearing of some kind. House quickly identified the sounds he heard ahead; they had reached some source of running water.
“Be careful, Dr. House!” Ferster warned him abruptly, putting up a restraining arm. “The ground and rocks along the edge are extremely slippery! Stay where you are and I’ll take a closer look.”
This time the diagnostician didn’t argue; he kept his flashlight trained on the ranger as he stepped about ten feet further and then stopped and bent down to look at something. He was flashing his light on some large rocks just along the stream’s edge.
“Doctor!” Ferster called, turning to look back at House. “There’s something here!” The ranger turned back to the stream and carefully crouched down; the doctor watched as the other man yanked at something that was caught trapped between the rocks. It took him a little effort to free whatever it was and then quickly brought it back to House.
“I think…I think it’s a strip off of a pair of jeans,” Ferster commented.
House concurred. He looked up at the ranger and nodded grimly, his heart beating hard and fast in his chest; he studied it under the direct light of the flashlight. “There’s blood on it.”
Ferster said nothing. There wasn’t much to say.
“He fell into the stream,” House’s throat constricted to the point where he wasn’t certain he could speak but he tried, “and got swept downstream with the current?”
Avoiding his gaze, the ranger nodded. “Looks like somebody did.” He sighed. The ranger looked exhausted and there was a hint of defeat in his eyes that terrified House to see. “God only knows how far…there’s no guarantee he was able to make his way to shore…. Doctor, I think we’ve gone about as far as we can go tonight.”
House didn’t want to hear it; the other man was giving up on finding Wilson alive. The chances of him surviving a fall into the deceptively deep, ice cold current were decidedly slim, but the small part of House that didn’t eat, breathe and sleep logic refused to admit defeat. Wilson wasn’t dead, couldn’t be dead and House wasn’t ready to give up on him yet.
“We’re not fucking stopping and turning back!” the diagnostician screamed in the ranger’s face. “Not now! Wilson’s strong; if there was any chance of him making it to dry land he did it. We’ve got to follow this downstream until we find him!”
“Dr. House--.” Ferster began to say as he placed a hand on his shoulder in an effort to calm and comfort him.
House violently shrugged him off. “He’s still alive and I’m not giving up!”
The park ranger shook his head sadly. “It’s time to turn back now. If he did manage to swim to safety it could have been to either river bank. There’s no way either of us is going to attempt crossing this stream, especially at night. I’ll shoot you with a tranquilizer dart if you even try! If he did make it to shore then we’ll find him in daylight.”
“He did make it!” House snarled. If he had been able to be objective for a moment he would have seen how irrational his thinking was at that moment but he wasn’t so he couldn’t. “He’s wet and cold and could be succumbing to hypothermia; you turn back and go suck your thumb until morning! I’m heading downstream!”
House limped away, gritting his teeth against the pain from his leg; standing still for so long had caused the muscle to begin to stiffen. He didn’t look back when Ferster yelled at him to stop and to come back, that it was too dangerous for him out here all alone. House knew that but he didn’t give a fuck. If they didn’t find Wilson soon and alive, the diagnostician didn’t care what became of his own life. He’d managed to cover a meager twenty feet or so when he heard the crunch of footfall behind him. He smiled without satisfaction. It was possible that he could like this Ferster person if he so had the inclination.
House had no idea how long they had been walking after that; Ferster had taken the lead again and they’d had to stop twice for House to rest his leg for a few minutes. The pain was spiking around a seven or eight out of ten and it took everything House had not to collapse in a screaming, weeping heap. The further they went, the longer they were out, the more the hope he had of ever seeing his friend alive again waned.
So, when Ferster stopped short again and held up his hand as a signal to House, the limping man wasn’t expecting what he heard the ranger say next.
“There’s someone up ahead!”
House’s heart stopped beating for what seemed like an eternity as his eyes tried to see what it was Ferster was pointing his beam of light on. Suddenly House dropped his cane, hurrying as quickly as he could hobble to the body lying prostrate on the forest floor. Once he reached it, House dropped to his knees, letting out a small shriek from the pain of it. He had to turn around quickly and vomit until there was nothing left in his stomach to bring up but bile. Once the nausea passed, he carefully flipped the body over and tears stung his eyes when he saw Wilson’s bruised face and blue lips. He felt tears run unabated down his face. He checked for a radial pulse but couldn’t find one. Next he checked for a carotid and sighed heavily in relief when he found one. It was dangerously weak and slow, as was Wilson’s breathing.
“He’s alive but badly hypothermic!” House told Ferster as the ranger removed his gear pack and knelt next to Wilson on the ground. They set work trying to keep the oncologist-and themselves-alive. Ferster was able to determine their position with the GPS device in his pack and was able to raise a weak signal on his radio to call for back-up help. He pulled out a large silver reflective emergency blanket; House decided that the ankle wasn’t the priority even though it was a compound fracture; re-warming Wilson was. He set to work removing Wilson’s soaked clothing. He removed his own clothing to the point where he was able to press his bare chest and abdomen against Wilson’s and pull him into a bear hug; the younger doctor’s head flopped lifelessly onto House’s shoulder; the diagnostician gave a brief shiver at the feeling of the lifeless, ice cold body against his warm skin. It was like embracing a corpse.
Wilson’s body temperature was so low that House wondered if he would pull through now that they had finally located him. He forced the doubts out of his head as best as he could and concentrated on sharing as much of his body heat with his friend as possible while Ferster wrapped them up securely in the thermal blanket. The ranger then set up a makeshift rain shelter using a tarpaulin, rope and a couple of trees. House talked softly into the younger man’s ear, more to sooth himself than for any other reason.
“It’s okay, Wilson,” he said softly in his low, growly voice. “You’re going to warm up and then we’ll deal with everything else. If you don’t keep fighting then I’m dumping your ass as my best friend! Everything is going to be okay and then things can get back to normal; I’ll stalk you and annoy you to the brink of insanity and you’ll be my Jewish mother and nag me until I’m ready to knock you senseless with my cane. I’ll make time for you, though you may have to come over to Cuddy’s if I end up having to baby-sit-God, I can’t believe how lame that sounds! Wilson, I don’t want to be Cuddy’s lap dog anymore.” He was quiet for a little while. There was no sign of life from the man and House had to continue to check for his pulse and breath sounds to assure himself that the oncologist was still alive.
“Doctor,” Ferster said to him, coming to sit under the shelter with them. “I was just in contact with the base. There’s a rescue team on its way. They know our position so they’ll be able to find us fairly easily but it might be as much as an hour yet before they arrive. They’ll be carrying you and Dr. Wilson out on a gurney.” The ranger nodded at Wilson. “How is he?”
“Not good,” House answered tersely. “I just hope he is able to survive the hour.”
“Me, too,” Ferster concurred grimly and fell silent.
It was difficult to move in the cocoon the ranger had wrapped around them, But House was able to move his arms sufficiently to reach up at one point and brush strands of wet, dripping hair off of the younger man’s brow, not that he was conscious to notice. It didn’t matter; the older man did it anyway.
“It’ll be just like old times,” House continued, whispering into Wilson’s ear. “We’ll drink beer and eat pizza and argue over the retarded chick-flicks you force me to watch. Wait…forget the beer. You and I are going back onto the wagon together. We’ll drink sodas instead. We’ll figure this thing out with you and Sam and me and Cuddy. Just don’t fuck things up by doing something stupid like dying. Okay? You idiot…how do you always get me mixed up in things like this…?”
House’s voice broke. He tried clearing his throat but it wasn’t phlegm that was impeding his ability to keep talking. He leaned his head against Wilson’s and swallowed hard at the lump that had found its way to his throat. He had often wondered what it would be like to be embracing the younger man this closely, skin to skin but never had he imagined it being anything as painful and frightening as this.
“I’m only going to tell you this once, so don’t forget it,” House whispered softly. “I can’t lose you because without you in my life I’m completely lost. Cuddy…Cuddy is just not the same. I’ve missed you so much these past few months. In fact, I’ve been…miserable. I’m sorry for neglecting you. Don’t tell anyone this, but…but I wanted it to be you who came to me the night of the crane disaster. I needed you. I didn’t understand then why you stayed away but after being in a relationship with Lisa for a couple of months, I think I can understand better now. It’s okay. It doesn’t matter anymore, it’s over.”
He paused to check Wilson’s pulse again before speaking further. “I was so…incredibly fucked up. I clung to Cuddy when you didn’t come…but I don’t want to be with Cuddy; I want to be with you! I swear to god I’ll seek revenge if you tell anyone about this conversation!” The diagnostician sighed. “I need you, you moron! All I have ever needed is you. I…I…l-love you. Like Romeo loves Juliet and all of that other sentimental bullshit. Maybe someday I’ll be able to tell you that when you’re awake and able to hear me. Until then, I’ll just have to keep chasing my rivals away and drive you insane in the process. I could wait an eternity if I thought telling you would ruin our friendship worse than it already is-but I hope I won’t have to.”
The diagnostician hesitated only a moment before pressing a tender kiss into Wilson’s wet brown hair. Beside him, Ferster had moved a little further away, not out of disgust at what he had heard but rather to give the two friends more privacy. He had his head turned, looking out into the dark, watching for the rescue team to arrive.
(“~*~”)
Wilson opened his eyes slowly and then clamped them shut again against the assault of light that had just hit him. He felt the presence of another person nearby and could feel someone holding his hand. He heard the typical noise of an Intensive Care unit. Every part of his body ached or stung; his head throbbed, the skin on his chest burned angrily, his stomach felt like it was on fire and his ankle bitched at him mercilessly. When he felt brave enough he attempted opening his eyes again, much slower this time. Everything was blurry and he could only make out the shape of a person sitting next to his bed. As his eyes opened further they began to focus.
He was disappointed to see who the person was. Sam Carr sat in a chair next to his hospital bed. She held his hand with one of hers and flipped the pages of the magazine she was perusing with the other. Her hand was cold and that’s exactly the feeling Wilson had when he discovered that the person sitting vigil was her: cold and indifferent.
He had hoped that it would be House sitting there. He realized that the diagnostician must be with Cuddy somewhere and felt the cold claw of jealousy grip his heart.
He looked lazily at his surroundings and tried to piece together what all he could remember, which wasn’t much. He remembered going on his hike and the stream. The image of the water coming at him (or rather, him falling into the water) was fairly clear as was the numbing pain from the ice cold water. He could faintly remember pulling himself on his belly onto the hard ground. Then there was nothing until a brief memory fragment of hearing House’s voice in his ears. He couldn’t understand what he was saying, but it was definitely his friend’s voice speaking so soothingly, so unlike the way he usually spoke. He could remember the sound of a helicopter and then blackness; after that a flash of House’s face staring directly down at him, his lips moving without any sound coming out of his mouth this time. He looked frightened. That was all that returned to him. He had so many questions that he wanted to ask House, not Sam-not her.
Just having her touch his hand made his skin crawl. He pulled his hand away, catching the blonde’s attention for the first time since he had awakened. She frowned slightly, setting the magazine aside; then she turned on her big-lipped, coral-slicked phony-looking smile and the oncologist felt his stomach turn.
“Oh James!” she practically squealed. “You had me so worried! Don’t ever hurt yourself like this again because next time I just don’t know if I could take it--!”
“Where’s House?” he demanded, frowning. His throat was sore and his voice raspy, likely from being intubated at one point. “I want to see House, now.”
“He’s not here,” she told him. “He and Lisa went back to their hotel shortly after you arrived here. I’m sure he’ll be by to see you later. In the meantime we have to discuss the details about your transfer back home once the doctors here think you’re stable enough to be flown back--.”
“Get a hold of the hotel right now,” Wilson told her unrelentingly. “Tell House I want to see him as soon as he can get here!”
“What’s the hurry, James?” Sam insisted, becoming indignant. “You’ll see him. I’m here with you right now. I’m your girlfriend, for Pete’s sake!”
Wilson ignored her; he reached for the control panel on his bedrail and pressed the call button. Within thirty seconds a nurse appeared in his doorway.
“Well Hello!” The nurse said to him with a pleasant smile. “It’s nice to see that you’re awake, Dr. Wilson. How are you feeling?”
“I’ve been better,” he answered a little more abruptly than he intended, and smiled apologetically. “I would like you to get a hold of my friend. His name is Dr. Gregory House. I’m sure he left a contact number with someone here. I need to see him right away.”
“James,” Sam tried to cut in but once again Wilson ignored her and cut her off.
“I would really appreciate it,” he added with a warm smile, the one that had caused his share of nurses to swoon in the past.
“Certainly,” the nurse answered with a smile, pointing with her thumb behind her towards the waiting room, “but Dr. Carr had him held by security--.”
“James!” Sam said against much more insistently. Her eyes were as round as tea saucers and he could tell that she was extremely nervous. “That’s--.”
“-when he refused to leave your room,” the nurse continued without pausing. “He’s being held by security in the waiting area for now.”
Wilson turned his head to glare pure hatred at his ex-wife. She frowned impudently and had crossed her arms in defiance upon it being found out that she had been lying to him. She looked exactly like the woman who had heartlessly dumped him twenty years ago. She hadn’t changed a bit in all of that time, but in this case, to say so wasn’t a compliment.
Wilson kept his angry gaze on Sam as he said to the nurse, “I want him released! He’s my best friend and I want him here!”
“Of course,” the nurse responded, looking at Sam with a shrewd smirk on her face before leaving the room.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the oncologist demanded of her angrily but weakly. “Where do you get off having him apprehended like that!”
“I’m your fiancée, so I think I have some say--!” Sam began to answer but Wilson’s angry, spiteful laughter cut her off.
“You are NOT my fiancée!” he spat at her viciously.
“We talked about getting remarried--!” she protested, her eyes widening.
“YOU talked about it!” Wilson told her. “I got drunk. You’ll never be my fiancée again; you’re not even my girlfriend anymore!”
“You’re dumping me for thinking about what was best for you?” the blonde shrieked indignantly.
“No,” Wilson sneered in disgust. “You were only thinking about you, as usual. Get out of here and don’t come back Sam. I have had enough of your lies and manipulation. I’ve been in denial of the fact that you really haven’t changed like you said you have. I can’t stomach you anymore! Go back to Princeton, pack up your stuff and get out of the loft; I don’t want to find you still there when get home.”
“But James!” she protested shrilly, rolling her eyes and speaking to him as if he were an idiot. “You’re overreacting, as usual! So I lied--so what? I did it to protect you! Have you forgotten about the way he’s used you in the past?”
“If House has ‘used’ me, as you put it, then it’s my own fault for allowing him,” Wilson snapped. “I’ve used him too-I’ve been using him as my back-up plan when my ill-thought out relationships crash and burn; he deserves to be treated better by me than that and it’s damned time I do!”
House had stepped into the room about fifteen seconds previously and was standing silently just inside the door, unnoticed.
“Sam,” Wilson said in a very quiet but menacing tone of voice, running out of patience, “Get your bony ass out of here or I’ll have security drag you out! Go!”
“James,” she said, shifting immediately into a conciliatory tone of voice, placing a hand on his arm. “You’ve just been through a terribly traumatic experience, honey, and you’re not thinking rationally! Get some rest, take some time to think and I’m certain you’ll come to see that you’re making a mistake!”
“You’re the one who is mistaken,” Wilson practically growled, “if you think I’m going to change my mind. Get out or I’m ringing for the nurse to call security!” He lightly rested a finger against the call button.
She glared down at him with open-mouthed shock for a moment or two. Then she closed her mouth and scowled.
“He won’t have to get security,” House spoke up, startling both Wilson and Sam. He was on a pair of crutches instead of using his cane as he moved towards the woman, smiling banefully at her, his eyes gloating. “Don’t let these crutches fool you--I’LL drag you out hopping on one foot if I have to! Say bye-bye and fly away, you filthy Harpy!”
There were tears of fury in the outer corners of Sam’s eyes. She stomped a foot angrily and then strode to the door. Before she could leave, however, House stepped in her way and grinned down at her with a combination of smugness and hate.
“I told you I’d outlast you!” he murmured, his voice dripping with venom. He appeared to be enjoying every little bit of her discomfort. Sam met his gaze and scowled at him bitterly; the diagnostician stepped aside and she marched out of the room, stomping her feet like a spoiled little girl.
“I’m so proud of you!” House told the oncologist with a sardonic smirk-but his brilliant blue eyes were smiling at him. “I suppose this wouldn’t be a good time to say that I told you so?”
Wilson couldn’t resist smiling and shook his head. “Not really. I’m grateful for your restraint.”
“No problem,” House replied, taking the seat that Sam had just vacated. “This is the smartest thing you’ve done in months!”
“I think you’re right-again. God I hate it when you’re right!” Wilson exclaimed, shaking his head.
“No wonder why you’re miserable,” the older doctor told him smugly. “I’m always right!”
Wilson chuckled and stared at his friend fondly; House’s eyes softened when they caught his gaze and held it. They sat there silently like that for a few moments until the younger doctor spoke.
“I’m sorry,” he told his friend sincerely. “I should have listened to you. Instead, I pushed you away. I’m a stupid ass!”
“Yes,” House agreed mildly, nodding. “You are. But look on the bright side.”
“What bright side?” Wilson asked quizzically. As far as he could see, there wasn’t a bright side to the disaster that was his relationship with Sam.
“You didn’t marry her again, so she can’t bleed you dry in another nasty divorce,” the older man quipped. Wilson smirked ruefully at that.
“Yeah,” the younger man sighed, “lucky me.” He looked House in the eyes, forcing a smile onto his lips and knowing as he did that it wouldn’t fool him. “Where exactly am I, anyway?”
“Foothills Hospital in Calgary,” the diagnostician answered. “You were stabilized as best as possible in Banff and then rushed by air ambulance here. You arrested mid-flight; it’s a good thing you have a stubborn bastard for a friend.”
“I know,” Wilson told him softly; he was lucky. “At least that explains why my chest feels like it’s on fire.”
“You smell like Hickory-smoked Jew,” House joked, amused with himself.
Wilson chuckled again and then moaned. Apparently he had a damaged rib or two as well.
“So where’s Cuddy?” the oncologist asked, trying to sound nonchalant but the truth was the mere thought of her triggered intense feelings of jealousy; He didn’t even try to deny it. He was in love with House; he knew that admitting he was addicted to the diagnostician was the first step to recovery-not that he wanted to recover from that particular problem. If only House felt the same way, but it was ridiculous to even hope for that.
House took a breath and filled his cheeks with air before blowing it out. “She took the first available flight home this morning. She’s probably already there.” His voice sounded even more somber than he looked.
“Everything okay?” the oncologist asked cautiously, sensing that everything was not.
“Depends on how you look at it,” was the answer. “If you’re referring to things between Lisa and me being okay, then no. If you’re referring to things with me in general, then…yeah, surprisingly they are.”
“Oh,” Wilson said, looking down at his blanket thoughtfully. He couldn’t help but feel a little bit of guilty pleasure at hearing that. “What happened?”
“Oh, nothing much,” House told him and Wilson saw a gleam develop in his eyes. “She just happened to hear me say something to you while you were still in your coma that she didn’t like.”
Frowning in confusion, the younger man asked, “And what was that?”
House sighed, looking a little sheepish and reluctant to answer. “I…was telling you that…that…,” he sighed again and licked his lips nervously. He reached over suddenly and grabbed Wilson’s hand, holding it gently, catching the younger man by surprise. The pianist’s long-fingers entwined with his; House’s hands were moist and trembling slightly.
Taking a deep, shaky breath, the diagnostician began again, “I said that I wasn’t in love with her because…because I’m in love with…y-you.” Shy, almost fearful blue orbs searched Wilson’s brown ones pleadingly. They said, ‘Please don’t hate me now!’
Relief and joy washed over Wilson like a giant, warm and comforting wave. He felt his eyes sting and had to blink back the tears that were forming there. He knew House would never let him live it down if he began to cry. He had no words to describe what he was feeling, and even if he had, he didn’t think he could speak them.
“Wow,” was all Wilson was able to utter, unable to tear his eyes away from the older man’s face.
“That’s it?” the diagnostician asked incredulously, his voice quavering. “I tell you that I’m in love with you--probably for the last time in your lifetime, by the way--and all I get is ‘wow’?”
House suddenly rose from his chair, looking like he was going to bolt, but Wilson refused to let go of his hand.
“Don’t go! Please! I just never thought I’d ever hear you say those words and especially not to me,” Wilson told him quickly. “House, I…I-I’m in love with you, too! Oh my god!” The oncologist looked away, shaking his head.
The older man’s body visibly relaxed and he started to breathe again. He sat again.
“Yeah,’ House replied softly, appearing to be as stunned as the oncologist felt, slowly sitting down again, “I know. It’s…fucking mind-blowing, isn’t it?”
Wilson nodded in agreement. After a moment he asked, “So what do we do now?”
House half-smiled. “I was hoping you would know.”
“How would I know?” Wilson asked quizzically. “I’ve never been in love with my male best friend before!”
“Oh, yeah,” House said softly and then shrugged. “I guess we just go with the flow. We’ve got a couple of days to get used to this before you’re strong enough to fly home. Hell, we’ve been practically married for years now; half of everybody we know already thinks we’re gay, so we should be able to work things out quickly enough.”
Nodding, Wilson squeezed House’s hand. He sensed fear coming from the older man and he wanted to address it right away. “Are you afraid…that if we…become intimate…that it will fail and we’ll destroy our friendship?"
House nodded slowly,swallowing. “Yeah,” he confessed, whispering, “I am.”
“Me, too,” the oncologist agreed. “But we don’t know that it will. We’ve already been through a lot together…maybe this is the right one for both of us. Maybe everything that’s happened up to now has been preparing us for…us. I don’t want to run away from what could be the greatest thing to ever happen to me based on a bunch of what ifs…do you?”
“No,” the diagnostician replied. “Jesus…Wilson, fuck, I don’t know how to say this without coming off as a total asshole!”
“That’s never stopped you before,” Wilson retorted drolly. He was trying to appear confident, but this was beginning to make him very nervous. Was this where his best friend told him that he had changed his mind and was going to try to salvage things with Cuddy after all?
“I’m not kidding.” House closed his eyes for a moment and seeing the internal conflict inside of him appearing externally the younger man realized just how serious he was.
“Just tell me,” he told the older man, almost pleading with him.
It took several moments before House was able to speak and when he did, it was tentatively, like at any moment he expected Wilson to fly into a range and never speak to him again. “I want to believe it would be different with us, but…shit, Wilson! I couldn’t handle it if you--!”
“-If I cheated on you,” Wilson finished for him, feeling nausea wash over him and churn up his stomach. He understood House’s hesitation in bringing it up; it had always been a touchy subject for him, but the oncologist couldn’t fault him for worrying about that. His past history didn’t speak well for him, he knew; but in spite of that he knew that things would be different with House. Amber was to thank for that, actually. She had shown him that he was capable of being in a relationship where he didn’t have to let resentment build to the point where he retaliated by being unfaithful. They had only been together a few months, but she’d forced him to stop being such a doormat with her and to be more assertive. House was able to do the same thing. He knew he could respond differently with House and still be accepted by him.
“Yeah,” House whispered, looking away.
“Look at me, House,” the younger man said to him without anger and waited until his best friend did until he continued. “The difference with you is that…that for years you’ve cared for me when I’ve been a jerk, you’ve accepted me in spite of every rotten thing you know about me. Whenever you’ve jumped down my throat, I knew in the back of my mind that it was because…because you didn’t want to see me make the same mistakes over and over again--because you cared. You’ve forgiven me when I haven’t deserved to be forgiven. You’ve accepted me for who I am, not for who you want to make me and you don’t allow me to become complacent, bored and then resentful. You push me to the point of breaking…but you’re always there to support me and keep me from completely falling apart. Nobody-nobody-has ever loved me for me, except you. Somehow, I know that’s what’s going to make things different for us.”
House’s eyes were as close to tears as Wilson had seen them outside of those times when he would sob from the torturous agony in his leg. This was not to say that the older man was about to cry, but there was a gratefulness, a hint of genuine affection that Wilson hadn’t been exposed to before now and he could help but feel privileged to be the one to see it.
“Okay,” House said simply, allowing a hopeful smile cross his lips. Leaning in towards Wilson until their faces were nearly touching House sighed and then hesitated only a moment before briefly caressing the younger man’s lips with his; he pulled back and searched Wilson’s face for a reaction.
Smiling softly, Wilson released his grip on House’s hand and brought it up to rest at the base of his best friend’s skull; he gently pulled the older man’s face in for another kiss, only this one was deeper and lingered. Wilson could feel the diagnostician smile against his mouth and kiss back passionately, his hands coming to gently cradle the younger man’s face. Wilson was the first to slide his tongue into House’s willing mouth but soon both sliding and caressing over each other’s. Running out of breath, Wilson withdrew, panting lightly and resting his forehead against House’s.
House was also breathing heavier than normal, smiling ever so slightly.
Wilson whispered. “Damn, you’re a good kisser!”
House rolled his eyes, “Could you sound any gayer?” he asked sarcastically. He paused a moment before becoming serious. “You need help, Wilson--your drinking has to stop. I don’t want to start something only to have you kill yourself with booze. I need you.”
Wilson pulled back but still kept his hand resting on the back of House’s neck. He nodded slowly. “I know…but I’m scared.” It was a hard confession for him to make, even to himself, but what the hell? All sorts of confessions were being made between the two of them today.
“Good,” House replied with a single nod. “That means you care. Chase tried to get me to go to A.A. meetings with him a while back but I never went. We can go together.”
Nodding the oncologist frowned slightly. “Chase is an alcoholic?”
“He’s definitely an abuser,” House answered. “I don’t know if he was actually dependent, though. I got out of him that it started just before Cameron left and then got worse thereafter. He realized one day that it was becoming a problem and started attending. I think that going would be wise for both of us.”
“Okay,” Wilson whispered with a half-shrug, “we’ll go.”
His eyes smiling in satisfaction and relief House asked, “You promise?”
Wilson smirked, raising two fingers in salute. “Scout’s honor.”
Scowling suspiciously, House said, “I remember you telling me that you were never a Boy Scout.”
Wilson shrugged. “I never was, but I’ll go with you to A.A. anyway.”
House grinned as he leaned in for another kiss.
~Fin~
Part One
Part Two