Where There Are No Happily Ever Afters: Chapter Ten
Author's Note: Okay, I know quite literally nothing about Carnegie Lake in NJ, and I have no idea if you can rent boats out there or what. What I do know is that, with the lakes by me, you can do all the things I mentioned in this chapter. Hope I don't offend anyone from Princeton with my ignorance. Oh, and you have my apologies because I'm ending it at one of the most annoying points that I could have, simply because I gotta leave pretty soon. If you read, please review.
"And then what did he say," Amber demanded for what Wilson thought was quite possibly the 35th time in the last twelve hours. It was the next morning, and the pair of them were having brunch at Luke's, a small diner on the outskirts of Princeton, rehashing his run-in with House yet again. Wilson could have cheerfully dropped the subject while they ate, as merely thinking about it caused his stomach to tie up into knots, but to his female cohort, that was not even an option.
Wilson sighed. "Nothing. He turned around and left," he reminded her. "The outcome isn't going to change, no matter how many times you have me tell it."
Amber lapsed into pensive silence, and Wilson took the opportunity to take a big bite of his BLT. Delicious.
"Well," she finally said, after several moments of thought, "you know what we have to do now, I'm sure."
Wilson raised an eyebrow, and then bit into his sandwich again. "What's that?"
"We're going to have to recreate another moment." When he didn't answer she continued. "I mean, don't get me wrong, your touches are, uh, very special and everything, but I'm guessing that they're not the reason for the reality check. Though I do think they're the reason that you saw his memory." She shrugged. "Whatever. The rules of Magic Land are complicated and more than a little confusing. I'm guessing it has something to do with-" She said this part with the utmost disdain,"True love and all that. But you'll have to be the one to come up the trigger-memory, because the last one was my idea."
He let his mind travel, going over his friendship with House backwards, then forwards. He had been thinking about this the night before, unable to sleep as he tried to come up with a memory, meaningful enough to be an emotional trigger, but easy enough to recreate. He had been utterly lost, but now, sitting with Amber, an idea assaulted him almost right away. "We need to go to the lake."
"The . . . lake," she repeated slowly. "That doesn't sound familiar."
Wilson smiled, thinking back on the one time he had been able to successfully convince his best friend, in all his injured-leg glory, to go with him to Carnegie Lake. There had been trickery involved, of course. He'd had to lie just to get House into the car, and then bribe him with the promise of all the alcohol he could ask for once they arrived. "We went last year," he told Amber. "Stayed all day. Made a little bet as to who could catch the biggest fish."
"Who won?"
"I think it was a tie. Neither of us caught anything. Apparently fish prefer it if you remember to bring bait."
"Snobs," Amber agreed, smirking a little. "But I fail to see the Epic Friendship moment."
"It was the first time I told him I loved him."
Amber looked up, surprise coloring her fair features, but Wilson wasn't paying too close attention. He was remembering the day like it was yesterday, replaying it in his mind. House, looking so comfortable in the green sweatshirt, while he complained endlessly about the cold on his leg, and the way the air had stilled suddenly, as though heralding the perfect moment. The burst of determination, the lump in his throat that he had difficulty swallowing.
"I love you," he'd said, without preamble or qualifiers. He'd shrugged, not wanting to convey just how serious he was. "You said it to me when you electrocuted yourself. I thought I'd return the favor."
He'd turned away, but in his peripherals he'd watched House stare at him
"You'd just upped my meds. It's not really the same thing." Wilson hadn't been exactly sure what to say to that, so he'd remained quiet until House had continued. "But, whatever. It wasn't the pain killers. Though I feel the need to warn you that if this gets repeated to anyone - including Sarah - I'll lure you out here and drown you right here."
"So, are you going to call him," Amber asked him now, prodding him with a fry.
He withdrew his cellphone, and began punching in House's number. The phone rang twice before a familiar voice picked up.
"Hello?"
Wilson inhaled sharply. Then coughed. "Uh, hi, Cuddy," he stammered, shooting Amber a panicked look across the table. She smiled back serenely. "I was actually calling for -"
"House," Cuddy interrupted, sounding fairly angry, considering that he hadn't said more than ten words since she'd answered the phone. "I mean, why shouldn't you be calling for House? Obviously you guys are best friends now-"
"Cuddy," Wilson heard House snap in the background. "I already told you-"
"Hold on, Wilson," Cuddy instructed loudly, talking over in her boyfriend. There was a hustling, the sound of a door slamming, then the voice he'd been expecting came on the line.
"Wilson?"
"What's going on," Wilson asked, still a little stunned by what he had heard. "Is everything okay?"
"Fine," House replied. "Well, Cuddy's on the warpath. Apparently one of her friends spotted me at the bar last night, and did a little eavesdropping."
Cold fear gripped Wilson and he moaned. "Oh, God. She hates me."
"Not hate exactly. Something close, though."
"Oh, God."
"Wilson, please. She'll get over it," House chided. "So, did you call me for a reason, or merely to terrorize my girlfriend?"
"Well," Wilson began, trying to ignore the nervousness that fluttered up into his stomach. He reminded himself that he had done this very thing many many times before. "I know it's not great timing, clearly, but I was wondering what you might be doing today?"
"Why," House asked, suspicion and curiosity battling in his tone.
"Wondered if you wanted to go somewhere?"
"Somewhere? What's that Wilson-code for?"
He grinned. "I'll be there in 30." And he hung up the phone. Then he glanced at Amber, who was looking slightly forlorn and said to her, "Oh relax. We'll find a way for you to come."
"Well, you did get the last one without me."
"Okay, okay. Sorry."
~~
True to his word, Wilson showed up outside House's apartment at a quarter to eleven, and, just like he had the year before, honked the horn twice. House came outside almost immediately, wearing a blue sweater and jeans, and got into the passenger side.
"I hope you're not a Jimmy Buffett fan," he teased, the careless smile Wilson knew in place.
Wilson rolled his eyes. "Can't say that I am."
For several minutes the men sat in amiable silence, House having evidently decided that asking Wilson about their destination would be fruitless. Wilson stared out the window as he drove, letting his friend have full reign over the radio, the buzzing in and out as House searched for a station comfortable somehow. When he'd settled on, of all things, Jessie's Girl, Wilson let out a low chuckle.
House frowned at him. "You think Rick Springfield's misery is funny? People have burned in the fire-y lake for less."
"Oh, so now you believe in hell?"
"You oncologists. So literal."
The scenery leading up to the lake was nothing terribly exciting. Foliage, but that was to be expected. As Wilson pulled into the parking lot by the boat rental, House crossed his arms over his chest and stuck out his chin.
"I don't kayak," he said with deep loathing.
Wilson inwardly smiled. "Come on, it'll be fun," he coerced. He cocked his head to the side as he'd seen his friend do many times before to appeal to the sympathy of some unsuspecting victim. "We're already here."
"Because you refused to tell me where we were going," House pointed out. "Because you're smart enough to know that I wouldn't agree to this under any other circumstances."
"Gregory House called someone else smart," Wilson said incredulously. "And there I was thinking the weather was a little too warm for hell to have frozen over."
"Wilson-"
"Come on," he whined, and it was such a role reversal that he blinked.
"Fine," House snapped, and Wilson let the victorious grin spread across his face.
"Good call. I'll be right back."
The last time he and House had came here, as he'd told Amber, they had been in it for fishing. But the current situation didn't exactly call for hours of silence, so once again, he was forced to do some tweaking to make the memory fit. This time he settled on a long canoe, deciding that he could easily to the rowing himself, especially since the spot they were headed to was very close by. They had a black design with bright orange flames on the side that he quickly retrieved for the two of them.
When Wilson returned, he beckoned House to approach, then tried not to laugh when House angrily batted away the help of the employee from the rental place.
"I think you made her cry," Wilson said, once they were both situated. He adjusted the oars, and they began floating away from the dock. He tried to surreptitiously search the gaps in between the trees as they passed them.
House rolled his eyes. "Then she needs thicker skin. Honestly, it didn't occur to her that cripples might have pride too?" He sat back, and looked around them. "Now that we're here, I suppose this isn't the worst idea you could have thought up."
Wilson felt the shiver of pleasure shoot up his back, but he kept his face neutral.
"Wanna tell me why you brought me out here," House finally asked, just as he had before.
Wilson shrugged, but, having known House, one version or another, for so long, he also knew he wasn't going to be left alone until he had provided a sufficient answer. "I'll tell you," he answered carefully, though he still wasn't sure how far he was going to take this little trip down memory lane. It seemed a little, uh, rash to tell this man that he supposedly met only a couple of days before that he loved him. But, despite what Amber had said, Wilson firmly believed that it was emotion that had packed the ginkgo-type punch. So he needed to give him a legitimate shock. "I'll tell you," he repeated. "But first, let me ask you something."
"Not really the way this traditionally works."
"Do I really not seem at all familiar to you?"
And House looked up, and really looked at him, really examined him, more closely than he had at all since their world had changed. Wilson stared back, then slid a little closer. It was only then that he realized that their boat had completely stopped moving, and exactly where it was supposed to. He felt the sun warm his back, the same way that it had; the trees had parted and made way for a long clearing of (familiar) peaceful water. The scent of the surrounding trees and greenery was overpowering. And he slid closer again.
"Wilson," House said, a quiet warning, but by now it was far too late. Because, what it all really came down to was that Wilson was so. Fucking. Tired. Tired of pretending that he didn't know his best friend, tired of being made to forget everything they had been so close to being for each other. Tired tired tired of pretending that he didn't need every single inch of the man sitting in front of him. And so he slowly leaned in, and closed the distance between their lips.
There was a sharp gasp from House, and then no sound at all. Wilson pressed against House with everything he had, drawing out the kiss as long as he could, moving his lips with increasing speed. And then, presumably he had a heart attack, and died, because that was the only explanation for what happened next. Which was that House suddenly gripped the sleeves of Wilson's long sleeved shirt, and pulled him closer.