I honestly have no idea where this came from. It's kind of a dark piece, and quite sad. There is an established House and Cameron romance, so if that's not your thing, you'll want to turn around now. There's also House and Wilson friendship and Cameron and Wilson friendship. So enjoy, and please review!
A huge thanks goes to hughville, for reminding me why I love these characters so much and inspiring me to return. Thank you.
Disclaimer: Not mine!
MDMDMDMDMDMDMD
James Wilson was nothing if not a caring man.
He was caring when he was fifteen and his mom died from ovarian cancer. He was caring when he decided to go into the oncology field. He was caring when he married his first wife, and he was caring when he took his first mistress.
And he was caring when he found himself drunk at a bar, and a certain misanthropic man bailed him out of jail without having exchanged a single word with him before that moment.
He rubbed his hand roughly over his face, listening to the sounds Cameron made as she moved around her kitchen. A year ago, he never thought that they would wind up like this. A year ago, everything was normal. Well, as normal as a life could be that had Gregory House in it. There was insanity, and even hatred to a certain degree. But House was Wilson's best friend, and their somewhat unstable relationship worked for the both of them.
Reaching out, he ran his hand along House's Steinway piano, his baby. Two years ago, House had stormed into Wilson's office and declared that he was moving in with Cameron. They had been dating for a month, and both men knew House would never find anyone who could tolerate him the way she could.
By the following weekend, House had moved his most important belongings into Cameron's home, and he gave everything else he didn't need away. The house was a beautiful mixture of both their personalities, with his bookshelves lining the walls and her pictures of family and awards hanging in the spaces between.
It took a few weeks for Wilson to discover that House and Cameron had secretly married, and for a while, he was angry. But then House had taken him out and they both got drunk, and the next morning all was forgiven.
It seemed like everything was working out for House for once. He had his work and a woman who made him happy. Then…
Cameron appeared in front of him. "Jimmy?"
He looked up into her face, feeling a guilty pang. The past months had taken a heavy toll on her. Where there had once been joy and contentment, there was now fear and anger, masked by a forced smile. Ever since House's accident, she had not been the same.
Neither of them had. "Yeah?"
"Lunch is ready. Why don't you go get cleaned up while I get Greg?"
"Are you sure? I can get him."
She waved her hand delicately. They both knew what she was thinking, but neither of them said it. He was her responsibility. Her husband. "It's okay. I'll get him."
Nodding, Wilson got to his feet and went into the bathroom.
Cameron lingered where she was for a moment before she went into her bedroom. By the window, House was sitting in a wheelchair. His brow was furrowed and his lip was caught between his teeth as he read the book clutched in his hands. Moving slowly, Cameron knelt down beside him and smiled.
"Greg, lunch is ready. Are you hungry?"
He almost pouted. "But I'm almost done with this chapter!"
Gently she took the book out of his hands. "You can finish it after lunch. Promise." Gripping the handles of his chair, she wheeled him out of the bedroom and to the kitchen table.
Wilson was just coming out of the bathroom as Cameron poured a glass of juice for House. He stopped for a moment, assaulted by an overwhelming mix of grief, gratitude and anger. This never should have happened. He was one of the greatest minds of the medical world. Sure, he was a misanthropic bastard, but did being that really warrant him his fate?
Not seeing Wilson, Cameron leaned over and gently kissed the top of House's head. Then she sat down beside him.
Still rooted to his spot, Wilson watched the two interact. He had known for years that Cameron loved House and was devoted to him. He just didn't know how much until the accident that left House permanently crippled and with the mental facilities of a seven year old child.
He didn't even know the depths of his bond to House until all of this happened. When Cameron first brought him home, Wilson had taken up temporary residence in their guest room.
That was nearly a year ago.
Cameron laughed softly, bringing him back to the present. He almost missed her real laugh, the laugh he used to hear when she was in House's arms and he was doing anything to make her smile.
The last time he'd heard her laugh like that was the night before House's accident. After that night, she was never quite the same.
Cameron looked at him, tears streaming down her face as she held House's hand. "Jackson said that if he wakes up, he's never going to be the same." She looked at her husband, currently breathing with the aid of a respirator. White gauze was wrapped around his head, and various cuts and scrapes marred his skin.
Wilson made his way to her side and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Let's be thankful he's alive, Allison. Anything after that… we'll deal with it. We'll get him through this. I promise."
She nodded, and for the rest of that night, they remained at House's side.
He blinked his eyes as those memories slipped away. House had been comatose for nearly a month before he woke up and they discovered the true extent of his injuries. He remembered who Wilson and Cameron were, but no one else. He was angry and frustrated at his inability to understand what had happened to him, but Cameron had held him, and that had helped.
On good days, Wilson could catch glimpses of the man he used to know. On the good days, Wilson was thankful that House had survived, and he still clung to the tiny hope that he would eventually recover and be himself again. It wasn't a realistic hope, but he didn't care. It helped him keep his sanity.
On the bad days, he selfishly wished House hadn't survived the accident.
"Jimmy?"
Wilson looked over at Cameron, indicating that he'd heard her despite wallowing in his own misery. His misery was nothing. He didn't even want to understand what Cameron was going through, taking care of her husband and knowing that he would probably be like this until he died. She was a better person than he was.
She motioned for him to join them. "Your lunch is getting cold."
Shoving his fists into his pockets, he slowly walked over to the table and sat down across from Cameron and House.
House grinned at him, and Wilson could barely return the smile. He knew that he should be grateful House had lived at all, but there was always the voice in the back of his head that whispered House would be better off dead.
"Hey, Jimmy!" House greeted him enthusiastically.
"Hey, buddy." Wilson placed his hands on the table, lacking an appetite.
Lately that voice was starting to sound a lot like House.
The End.
A/N: I listened to Billy Joel's All About Soul the entire time while writing this (which took about thirty minutes) and I think it's the most Housian song I've ever heard. It was a different piece for me to write, and I hope everyone reading enjoyed it. Thank you for reading, and please review!