Title: Shattered Innocence Author:mmorgan317 & all things413 Rating: I'm going to say PG-16 (Yes, once again I'm making up my own rating) with warnings about domestic abuse and possible sexual disgust. Summary: When House discovers that Wilson is being abused, he does everything to protect his friend. But what happens when the thing he needs protection from, is House himself? Spoilers: Set Season 2-3, so nothing beyond that. Disclaimer: I do not own, I am just borrowing. Author's Notes: Second: I got this idea from the many domestic abuse stories I've read and have enjoyed immensely but have found a serious lack of mean!House/abused!Wilson fics. This will be a multi-chapter story with a sequel. There will be some crude language in certain chapters which I will definitely warn the audience before hand so they know not to read it if they don't want. So without further ado, here's...
First I wanted to say Thank You to my partner in crime/co-author and beta, All things! If anyone can talk her into perusing their stories, they should. She's excellent!
Chapter 1:
Dr. James Wilson stood in the bedroom that he shared with his wife Julie staring at the full length mirror that hung on their closet door. It had become a morning ritual that he had been uncomfortable with at first, having never been a vain man, but soon found that it was necessary in order to keep his secrets from others.
He started with what he could easily see: his shoulders, chest, arms, stomach, and legs then he went on to his back. At first he had cringed at the sight of his bruised and painful body but over the years he had grown accustomed to the sight and just focused on what he'd have to hide and how.
Old bruises faded with the new, making this process harder and damn near impossible. Wilson often found himself having to physically press on the bruising and gage how much it hurt to be able to differentiate.
There were some scratches from a diamond wedding ring and nails. Julie had discovered that it was "fun" to turn her studded ring under her finger able to leave scratches and deep gouges when she'd open-palm slap him. She had first done it on his face but when he reported that people had noticed (of course they would!) she had changed her tactic to keeping the places she'd hit that were easily hidden by clothing.
After checking the front he grabbed the extra mirror on the bureau and turned around, wincing when his left side burned with the action. Julie seemed to favor beating his left side which had never made sense to him since he was left handed and surely someone would notice how he favored it but no one had.
Wilson cringed when he saw the deep, purpling bruise covering his left shoulder and hissed in pain when he moved that arm. Just what I need! He thought. He hugged his arm closer to his side and kept going with his inspection.
The fist shaped bruises spread over his entire back but were worse (and hard to distinguish) on the left side by his ribs, over his shoulder blade and on the tissue over the socket. The bruising from his shoulder socket snaked down across his collar bone and down near his arm pit. He noticed when she was really frustrated, Julie liked to use his arm and shoulder as a punching bag. He laughed sardonically when he thought Those kick boxing classes are sure working out well!
Once he had finished his inspection Wilson began to get dressed, heavily favoring his left side. He'd inspected his middle region before putting on his underwear, not surprised to find dark, painful bruising on his left hip. It would make walking normally painful for a few days but he'd deal with it; he had to.
At first he never knew why Julie had started beating him but after his fourth time spending time with House instead of going home to be berated by her, he figured it out. She had never bothered to hide how much she hated Gregory House and over time being married to Wilson she had grown jealous of the time they spent together. Every time Wilson would go eat pizza and drink beer with House at his place or immediately drop whatever he was doing to be with his best friend in a time of need, Julie retaliated by using him as practice for her kick boxing class.
She had hoped it would be a deterrent for Wilson but all it did was make him more desperate to get out. To be with House where things seemed normal and he didn't have to worry about saying or doing the wrong thing or walking through the door only to duck when a plate (that had been aimed at his head) comes flying towards him. He gladly took the beatings afterwards for his few hours of freedom.
The extent of the beating depended on how much time he spent with House. If he was only gone for a couple of hours, generally he got away with some new bruises. If he was gone more than 3 hours, he wound up with bruising and some scratches. If he spent the entire evening and didn't come home, it was bruising bad enough to cover cracked ribs and possibly chips in his sturdier bones (like his shoulder blade).
The worse was when he stays out all night and doesn't call. He generally returns to work the next day limping heavily from a booted foot kicking his knee, which resulted in a badly sprained knee, and favoring his left side where the same booted foot kept kicking him after he fell to the ground, which left him with at least 2 broken ribs.
Last night had been one of the "entire nights on House's couch" beatings. He wouldn't be surprised if his shoulder blade was chipped in a couple places and had a hairline fracture in his hip with how hard she had hit him.
Wilson glanced at the clock, mentally cursing himself for taking so long when he noticed that he had about ten minutes left to grab a mug of coffee, throw on his suit jacket and drive away. With how slowly he was moving today, he wouldn't make it on time and would be late for work which would cause suspicion with Cuddy and House.
The last person he wanted on his case, dissecting his movements and putting things together was House! That man could figure anything out and Wilson didn't really want to become his next puzzle.
With that encouraging thought, Wilson hurried out of the bedroom to leave for work.
Dr. Gregory House had been impatiently waiting for Wilson to come to work; he was hungry and wanted the oncologist to buy him breakfast. So he waited on the second floor by the elevators, staring at every person who entered and growing more annoyed with each person that wasn't Wilson.
He pulled out his phone to check the time and make sure he hadn't received any "HELP" messages from his friend and frowned when the display lit up to reveal it was almost 9:00 a.. Wilson was a stickler for being on time and was generally through the doors by 8:00 am, 8:30 at the latest. He slipped his phone back into his coat pocket, making sure the ring tone was on loud enough for him to hear through the fabric, and continued to wait; the frown still present on his sharp features.
When Wilson finally walked through the door fifteen minutes later, the frown deepened. House noticed his friend's slight limp (though it was imperceptible to others who didn't know the oncologist as well as he did) and the way he used his left arm to guard his side. Something was wrong and Wilson was acting like it was nothing; two things House NEVER liked in a combination.
He felt his hopes rise when he noticed Cuddy making her way over to Wilson while he checked his messages. Cuddy knew Wilson almost as well as he did and surely she had noticed something was wrong with him. Surely she had noticed something was wrong with him.
He watched her brows furrow in concern and cross her arms in disbelief. He saw how she put a gentle hand on Wilson's left shoulder and give it a gentle but friendly squeeze. He caught the way his friend cringed and eyes scrunched briefly in pain. He thought Cuddy had noticed the action and the way the oncologist had slightly pulled away but to his annoyance she let Wilson escape to the elevators.
House didn't blame her; Wilson knew how to dismiss, placate or soothingly demur his way out of any situation regarding his health or private life. With a drug addict for a brother (and best friend) he'd had practice for many years.
He limped his way to the elevators, pressing the 4 button; determined to get to the bottom of this mystery called James Wilson.
Wilson escaped into the quiet of his office, thankful for the peace and safety of it. Escaping Cuddy's concerned looks and touches without giving anything away had been difficult. But if he was honest with himself, he wasn't sure he did pull it off.
He hung his suit jacket on the coat rack by the door and placed his briefcase down on his chair. He checked his schedule and immediately felt drained at the sight of the back to back to back patient meetings, giving him time to grab a quick lunch before becoming trapped in his office once again with more patient meetings. He was going to need a LARGE cup of coffee. He checked his watch to make sure he had time before his first meeting, he left the room.
The oncologist made his way to the diagnostic's conference room, holding the biggest coffee cup he owned. It was more a bowl than a cup but he didn't care, with the way he was feeling and the amount of work he had to do today, he needed it!
"Good Morning Dr. Wilson." Dr. Alison Cameron greeted cheerily. Most of the time Wilson liked her but this morning he wanted to kick a puppy in front of her to bring her down a notch.
"Good Morning Cameron." He greeted in return, offering a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
Chase and Foreman offered nods of greeting but otherwise didn't acknowledge him as he walked as quickly as he could to fill his "mug". In hindsight trying to walk quickly wasn't a good idea since it meant he limped heavier but he hadn't thought of that until he heard Cameron's voice.
"Are you alright Dr. Wilson?" She asked, concern dripping off her voice like water dripping off a wet rag.
"I'm fine." He answered as he turned around to leave. Cameron, Chase and Foreman were all looking at him like they didn't believe him. "And please, just call me Wilson." He offered hoping to ease the formality between him and House's fellows.
He walked to the door, painfully aware that they were studying him with the practiced ease of doctors who had been working for House. He ignored their watchful eyes as he left, trying to hurry to his office in time to meet his patient who was supposed to be meeting him now.
Wilson arrived in time to meet his patient at the elevator, cradling his arm closer to his side to try and help ease the pain in his ribs from the heavier breathing. It helped but only minutely.
He greeted his patient with a smile. "Mr. Ozeranski, how are you doing?"
"Dr. Wilson!" Jeffrey Ozeranski offered by way of greeting as he walked over and clapped a heavy hand on Wilson's shoulder. "I'm good, I'm good." He answered warmly, unaware that he had caused his doctor any degree of pain.
"Good." Wilson chuckled painfully. "Well, let's go to my office and talk shall we?" He suggested, silently leading his happiest patient towards his door.
He urged Jeff into one of the chairs across from his desk while he placed his "mug" of coffee on top of his desk. Grabbing the patient file from his desk, he then sat down opposite the chair his patient was in.
Wilson listened patiently to Jeff's complaints and offered suggestions on how to fix them, whether they be related to his disease or personal life. He laughed appropriately when needed and nodded sympathetically when expected. By the time Jeff walked out, he felt better, emotionally, than he had going in while Wilson was starting to ache.
Once Jeff was out the door Wilson stood up and walked around his desk to sit down in his own chair, drinking deeply from his cup of coffee and stifling a groan that threatened to escape when his next patient knocked on his door. And we're off! He thought as Barbara Tyler walked through his door.
House walked into the conference room, grumpy that he had had to pay for his own food. He watched as 3 seemingly innocent faces turned to him and closed their mouths. "Should I go back out so you can finish your conversation or can I join too?" He quipped as he sat down at the table.
"We were just talking about Wilson." Cameron answered earning two groans from her other fellows.
"What about him?" House dismissed as he took a bite of his cream cheese bagel.
"He was limping when he came in earlier to grab coffee," She began, hesitating at the beginning, "and when he left he seemed to be cradling his left arm. Was he in an accident of some kind last night?"
House felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up at Cameron's (and probably Chase's and Foreman's as well) observations but kept his tone snarky. "How should I know?"
"Because you were with him last night weren't you?" Cameron returned, her tone almost accusing.
"Were you following me?" He countered, still not answering the question.
"No!" She answered indignantly. "I saw you two leaving together and assumed he went over to your place."
"Nope." He answered simply as he tossed the wrapper from his bagel into the trash. "I drove him home since his wife took his car. Wilson and I hung out the night before, Poker Night if you know what I mean." He said giving her a crude and too obvious wink.
"You're gross." She answered sitting down at the conference table.
"You're just now figuring that out?" Foreman challenged disbelievingly.
"No, I just thought he would know why his best friend seems to be injured for seemingly no reason at all." She returned with a glare at House.
"Sorry." House answered with a tick of his head. "Do we have a case?"
"No." All three answered in unison.
"Ok." He said while inhaling deeply. "Cameron go down to the clinic, Foreman and Chase help out somewhere else."
"Why do I have to do your clinic hours?" Cameron challenged.
"I think it's called 'alphabetizing'." House replied before he headed into his office, ignoring the "Whatever" looks from his team.
He sat down in his office chair, bouncing his Lacrosse ball against the wall opposite it. Apparently Wilson hadn't been hiding his pain as well as the oncologist hoped and now that he had Cameron's attention there was a bigger chance of being smothered to death by caring.
House smiled at the title of the obituary: "World Renowned Oncologist Smothered to Death by Too Much Caring".
After taking three minutes to laugh to himself about the ridiculous title, House turned his attention back to the problem at hand. He needed to figure out what was going on with Wilson so as to get Cameron off his friend's back before things got worse and she got more invested.
Cameron had a big heart, House thought too big most days, and cared about everyone in pain whether she knew them or not. This was part of the reason she made a good doctor but it got her into trouble sometimes. It was because of her concern for Wilson that he sent her down to the clinic, in as close as possible proximity to Cuddy, hoping she'd happen to mention it to the Dean of Medicine.
Once Cuddy was made aware that others were noticing something was off with Wilson, she would go to her Head of Oncology's door and try to mother it out of him; wearing him down in time for House to come in and dissect him until he knew the truth.
He checked his watch and decided he'd give it another thirty-forty minutes before he'd hop the balcony wall and intrude into Wilson's office, patients be damned. House was good at getting them to leave and leave word with Wilson's assistant not to allow anyone else to come back.
House bounced his ball some more, swallowing a couple of Vicodin while he waited, then checked his watch again. Twenty more minutes and counting…