Where There Are No Happily Ever Afters: Chapter Five
Author's Note: Okay, House's Head/Wilson's Heart is seriously sad. Anyway, not all the chapters are gonna be quite so crack!fic, but remember what the inspiration for this story was.
The drive to their next destination felt almost unbearably long, but Wilson attributed that to his nerves about the impending task. Though Amber had wanted to skip straight ahead to her plan, he had insisted to make a pit stop by his house. He took a calming, deep breath and reminded himself, a little ironically, that he had, after all, done this before.
The sight of the brick building shot butterflies into his stomach, and he glanced quickly at Amber, seeking reassurance.
She rolled her eyes. "Relax. You're going to be fine."
"I know," he lied. But still he didn't move. "I'm just a little out of practice. I mean, she doesn't even know what's coming. I don't think." He'd found that as memories of his actual past flooded his mind, his false memories began to vanish. "What if she cries?"
"Tell her to suck it up because we have a world to save." She grinned. "Want me to come in and help?"
"No thanks, I've got it."
With one last sigh, he climbed out of the car.
Bonnie was sitting on the couch when he opened the front door, photos spread messily across the coffee table. She glanced back at him, then gave him a cheerful smile. "I've decided to organize the albums," she said, gesturing to the sack of books beside her. "What do you think of making the red one pictures of the first year of our marriage?"
He swallowed hard, then stepped further into the house. "Sounds good to me." A small part of him wished he could end the conversation there, but he determinedly summoned a mental image of his best friend and focused on why he was doing this. "Bonnie, we need to talk."
She looked up, and it was clear from her expression that she somehow had a clue. He tried to remember if he had cheated in this past too, but he wasn't sure.
"Is everything okay?" Her jaw clenched in anger and he was struck by intense déjà vu.
He met her eyes with his own. "This isn't going to work."
"Why not?"
Not exactly the words of disbelief he had been expecting, but he supposed this was an improvement. "It's . . ." He contemplated lying, but stuck with a small variation of the truth. "There's someone else." Technically, a 'someone else' that practically didn't even exist anymore, and would never love him the same way, but nevertheless.
Bonnie turned away, silently seething, but he waited it out. When she faced him again he got to his feet. "Let me just pack a bag and I'll get out of your way."
When he returned to the car, throwing his luggage in the backseat, he frowned at the bright smile on Amber's face.
"You know, you could pretend to not be quite so gleeful," he told her grumpily. "A woman is in there, upset, because her husband just left her."
She laughed. "Your fake-wife not take it too well? What did she say?"
And once again he took a deep breath. He knew what he had to do, what the right thing was. He couldn't let her keep helping him and not tell her everything. What was he afraid of? Who would she tell? "She asked me why. I told her I was in love with someone else. It was, uh, as close to true as I felt comfortable getting."
Amber cocked her head to the side and examined him through narrowed eyes. "Is there?"
"I'm in . . ." He paused, then started again. "I have feelings . . ."
"It's House," she guessed. And he didn't argue.
She sat back in the seat, apparently lost in her own thoughts. He could feel frustrated tears brimming in the corners of his eyes, but he blinked quickly, not wanting her to see.
"It's okay," she finally replied. He looked over at her, wanting to speak, to say anything - that he had loved her, that feeling that way about House didn't change anything. That he had loved two people at the same time. That it didn't matter anyway, because his friend was straight. But the uncharacteristic compassion in her face threw him. "It's okay," she said again, and he believed her.
"So, anyway, next on our list," she prompted when he had composed himself.
He smiled, to show her he appreciated the change in subject, and then answered, "So, it's time to go see Chase."
When Wilson had first thought about it, it seemed strange that they should choose Chase, of all people, to advise them on this subject. He'd never been anything even resembling close with the man, and he couldn't really be sure that the young Aussie would have anything to contribute. But he was, after all, the one who had successfully hypnotized House; the one that had considered priesthood before healing, and when Amber had called around to see what had become of him in this reality, they had discovered that he had become a man of the cloth anyway.
When they pulled up to the rectory they still hadn't agreed on how they were going to go about this.
"I still say we should just tell him the truth," Wilson argued, as the pair exited the car, and approached the brown, wooden door.
Amber reached out and gave it three sharp knocks (Wilson supposed she was taking the lead, but that wasn't surprising) before smirking slightly. "And say what? So, in a parallel world we used to work together but I got killed, and Wilson here is best friends with your boss, the world famous Dr. House. Who, by the way, isn't even a doctor anymore? I think that may overwhelm him a little."
The oncologist was saved from answering by the sudden presence of a blond-haired priest, who was staring at them in confusion. "Can I help you," he asked in a deeply familiar accent.
Wilson let out a nervous laugh, so Amber stepped up once more. "We really needed to see you," she said, in a passable impression of a run-of-the-mill woman-he'd never have guessed that she had come back from the dead. "Can we come in?"
Father Chase (dear Lord!) raised his eyebrows. "We can't speak on the porch?"
"It's sensitive in nature," she replied smoothly.
He shrugged and stepped back.
"Okay, we're just going to skip right into the middle of things," she continued when they entered the small house. "We want to know everything you know about witches."
Wilson turned to her sharply, but she pretended not to notice. It wasn't exactly how he would have chosen to broach the subject - Chase was now looking at both of them as though they had lost their minds - but when the younger man answered, Wilson had to give his ex credit.
"Well, I've personally never seen evidence of supernatural beings," he said carefully. "But the Bible does reference witches in a few different places. Nasty business, if you ask me."
"And, let me ask you, does it seem like pretty much anyone can access witchcraft if they were to know how?"
Wilson instantly knew that she'd gone too far because Chase quickly backed away, his palms up. "I really think the two of you should leave."
"Wait," he argued wildly. "Listen, Chase-"
"Father Chase."
"Uh, Father Chase. We're not trying to do something crazy here. Or contact dark forces of the Underworld. We just need some information." He made an attempt at his most charming smile, hoping that it didn't come off as a grimace. "All we're wondering is, if there were such things as witches, could anyone do it? If they were to know how?"
Chase was quiet for a moment and Wilson held his breath. He knew they must seem a little unhinged but it seemed safer to stay within their normal circle and plus, there had been moments, when Chase was Normal-Chase, that it almost seemed possible for him to believe in things others didn't.
Finally he sighed and answered, not bothering to hide his annoyance: "Yes, I suppose so."
The rush of relief Wilson felt almost knocked him over. He couldn't hide the wide smile that spread across his face, and they hastened to make their leave when Chase caught his expression. As they walked out into the sun again he realized that he felt lighter than he had in what seemed like weeks.
Okay. Okay. So there was, hopefully, some way they could fix it.
Chapter Four Chapter Six