Holy moly. I've been away for sooo long. Just finished the last year of my degree hence the huge amounts of work and job hunting that have been taking up my precious time.
Anyway, I was going to update Blood Ties but I have lost chapters 3 and 4 so I will have to write them again!! :-( In the meantime I give you this....another multi chapter fic.
Oh yeah- I don't own stuffs
A/N It was a regular evening of beer and TV between two friends. But a few hours later that would all change. H/W friendship, hurt, comfort and all that. Rated M for themes and violence
"What the hell is that?" Wilson aggressively pointed his finger towards the TV screen, almost knocking his beer bottle over in his other hand. "You watch Desperate Housewives?" he asked incredulously. He knew House's taste in TV was somewhat questionable but he had no idea it was this bad.
"What?" House shrugged "I'm a single middle aged man and they are hot middle aged women. What's not to like?" House cracked open another bottle of cheap beer. "Nobody watches it for the plot. Women watch it for the sexy men and I, and many other lonely singletons, watch it for the smoking hot women." Wilson rolled his eyes. "Unlike you I don't get my rocks off to CNN news anchors."
Wilson raised his hand in defence. "That was one time and even you said she was hot."
"Yeah, yeah. You still jacked off to the news." House raised his eyebrows. "There was probably a story about dying children or an earthquake story in the background and you were sitting fiddling your crotch. So much for humanitarian Jimmy."
Wilson gave a defeatist sigh and glanced at the beer bottle in his hand. It was empty already. He swore he only started drinking it a couple of minutes ago. He shrugged, tossed the empty bottle onto the table and ran his fingers through his straggly hair. "How many have I had?"
House flicked a hand through the plastic bag. "There's three left and we bought a pack of sixteen. This is my seventh so you my friend have had six." House took a gulp of beer.
"Six? Really." Wilson puffed out his cheeks. He cast a look at the dark clock that hung on House's wall. It was 11:20 and he was too drunk to drive. "Shit. I've gotta go. Last bus is 11:30. Where's the bus stop from here? Five minutes or so?"
House waved his hand. "Just stay here. You can sleep on my couch."
Wilson smiled. "Thanks but I have paperwork to do for tomorrow. I've been here longer than I thought I would be."
"Oh stop being so square." House grimaced. "Nobody will die if you don't do paperwork and nobody will lose their hair since all your patients are bald anyway."
"Nice House." Wilson rose from his seated position. "I need to do the paperwork. I'll get behind if I don't." Wilson grabbed his jacket and swung his arms through the holes. He stumbled as he went to grab his cellphone from the brown walnut coffee table.
House chuckled. "Woah. You okay there dizzy?"
"I'm fine. Just got up a little quick that's all." He stuffed his cellphone into his pocket and slowly manoeuvred himself towards the door.
"Yeah right." House guffawed loudly. "Take some Advil when you get home. It'll take the edge off your hangover." House knew Wilson was a little worse for the wear, but the bus stop wasn't far and Wilson would make it in it time even with his incredibly slow walking pace. "See you tomorrow."
Wilson opened the door and stepped into the hall. "See you tomorrow House." He closed the door behind him gently, careful not to aggravate the already throbbing pain that was situated on the left side of his head.
Cold. Bitter cold. That was the first thing that hit is tired body when he stepped down onto the sidewalk. He zipped up his flimsy jacket and stuffed his hands firmly into his pockets, insulating himself against the biting New Jersey winds. The bus stop was only two blocks away and he knew he had plenty of time to make it for the last bus of the evening.
He headed east to the top of the street, paying attention to every step he made as he began to feel the alcohol addle his coordination. He took a left at the junction and could faintly see the bus stop in the distance, the wooden seat giving away its position.
"Hey man. Give me a few dollars." A gruff voice pleaded from the shadows over Wilson's left shoulder. Wilson ignored the voice and carried on towards his destination. "Hey!" The voice bellowed, this time in an angrier tone. "Hey! I'm talking to you. Give me a few dollars."
Wilson felt his body being whipped round by the sharp force of the bellowing man's hand. "I-I-I haven't got any money."
The man that confronted Wilson was of equal height and build, with long brown hair and dark, almost black, eyes which wouldn't be so strange if they weren't perfectly circular. He grabbed Wilson by the side of the neck, squeezed hard and flashed a sinister grin. "Don't bullshit me man. You look like you got money and I want some of that money."
Wilson gulped hard, catching a stubborn lump of air in his throat. "I-I don't think I have much." Wilson started padding down his pockets and the inside of his jacket. Where's my fucking wallet? Shit, shit, shit. And then the cold realization; he had left his wallet behind. It was underneath House's coffee table where he had tossed it after became uncomfortable in his pocket. "I don't have my wallet." His voice was almost pleading to the grubby man in front of him.
The man's eyes stared back unflinching and a sadistic smirk creeped across his stubbled jawline. "Don't give me that crap. A guy like you doesn't walk around without his wallet." He inched his face towards Wilson's, his acrid breath billowing into the cold air. "Now give me your fucking money or my friend here will gut you like a fish." The man's voice had lowered in tone, almost to a whisper.
A taller man stepped out from the shadows and flashed a blade in Wilson's direction. "Damn right I will."
"Really I-I don't have my wallet. I w-was having a few b-beers at friend's house. I m-must have left it behind. " Wilson gesticulated nervously. "You've got to believe me."
"Do I?" The man grabbed Wilson's left arm. "Do I really?"
Before Wilson could reply, he felt the brute force of a fist against his torso. He bent double as he struggled to catch his breath, gulping and gasping for air as he clutched his pained stomach. Suddenly his hair was yanked upwards, jerking his neck back painfully into the air. "Please.....please.....I don't..." His begging was interrupted by another hit, this time on his jaw. The force flung him sideways onto a nearby wall. The metallic tang of fresh blood swirled in his mouth as he once again struggled to catch his breath.
Run his mind was imploring, but he couldn't muster the strength. The taller man grabbed Wilson's throat with vigour and thrust his body up against the wall.
Wilson's next feeling was one of sheer unadulterated pain as the man plunged the blade clean into his stomach. The man pulled upwards to revel in the grimace that had spread across his victim's face. He plunged the blade in again and watched in glee as a small trickle of blood escaped his victim's lips.
"Hey! That's enough. Jesus Christ." The smaller man pulled his friend away and left a bloody and bruised Wilson lying hunched against a wall.
Wilson was already feeling light-headed as he felt his sweater soak in his own blood. He gently pressed his torso, hoping to stem the blood he could fell oozing out of his body. But it was to no avail.
A blurring outline of the clear and starlit sky was the last thing Wilson saw before slipping out of consciousness.
"Dammit." House grumbled as he dropped his cane, sending it rolling under the coffee table. He limped over and fumbled underneath the coffee table to retrieve his cane. Instead he came across a small soft object. "Wilson. Stupid ass left his wallet." He flipped open the wallet and found Wilson's ID, office and home key and copious amounts of ten dollar bills. How Wilson managed to have this sort of money on his person all the time was a mystery to him.
House sighed, irritated that he would have to call his friend. Wilson needed his wallet otherwise he wouldn't be able to get into his office or apartment or get the bus. House begrudgingly flipped open his cellphone and dialled Wilson's number.
You've reached the cell of James Wilson. Busy right now but leave a message and I'll get back to you.
Odd. Wilson would have answered his phone. There's no way he was home yet. House's face took on a quizzical expression. Wilson always answers his cellphone. He tried again and encountered the same outcome. Wilson wouldn't have walked, it's too far and he would have come back if he had missed the bus. House tried Wilson's cellphone in a last, futile attempt to contact him and again he was sent voice mail.
House groaned. He would have to go and chase Wilson down. House shrugged on the first jacket that came to hand and hobbled his way out his apartment. The street was deserted apart from three drunk, staggering men who were weaving their way down the other side of the street. House rolled his eyes and carried on his way towards the bus stop. He took a left at the top of the street and squinted into the distance. The bus stop was there and he could make out the faint shapes of people.
He got to the bus stop just as the last bus pulled in. Wilson wasn't at the bus stop. House tapped the solitary bus user on the shoulder. "Excuse me. Has a guy been here? Tall-ish, dark hair, annoying looking face."
The lady raised her eyebrow. "No. I've been her nearly ten minutes. No one has been here except me. Sorry." She shrugged and climbed aboard the bus.
"Damn." House cursed under his breath and limped his way back towards his apartment. He flipped out his cellphone to check if Wilson had rang back but he had no missed calls. He re-dialled Wilson's number for the fourth time.
House's concentration was immediately disturbed at the familiar sound of the first chords of Sweet Home Alabama ringing in his ears. He pulled his cellphone away from his ear and hit the cancel button on his cellphone. The music stopped. House re-dialled the number. The music started again.
House's eyes widened in fear. "Wilson! Wilson! Where are you?" He kept the call going and followed the music towards the direction of a shadowed alley further down the street.
The alley was obscured by shadow but House sensed he had stood in something wet, his shoe felt heavier underfoot. He pulled his foot up to see a dark black pool of something on his show. There was only one thing that looked like that in the dark and the horrified expression that House wore signified that he knew what it was.
He flicked the light on his cellphone and shone it down the alley. There, lying slumped on the left wall was Wilson, his head bowed and sweater stained in blood.
"Holy crap. Wilson!" House painfully dropped to his knees and tipped his friend's head back. He pulled out his cellphone and dialled 911. "I need an ambulance. Now!....Just hurry it up." House gave his location and slammed his cellphone shut. "Shit. Wilson! Can you hear me? Wilson! It's House. Can you hear me?"
A weak, gargled groan passed Wilson's lips much to House's relief.
"Don't move okay. The ambulance will be here soon. Just stay with me okay. Don't you dare fall asleep on me." House removed his jacket and pressed it gently onto Wilson's stomach. "Come on."
Wilson's head lolled forward as House applied pressure with his hands.
"Hey! Wake up." House lifted Wilson's head hoping to snap him back into consciousness. "Fuck!" House clasped Wilson's face with both his hands. "Wake up. Please wake up. Come on Wilson. Wake up."
A/N Cliffhanger!!!! :) So yeah that's the start. Should I bother going on? Perhaps, perhaps not.