Author's notes: Okay, as ever, I do not own House MD or any of the characters, I'm just borrowing them for fun, not profit.
The story is rated T just to be safe due to some minor language and dark themes (cancer). Hope you "enjoy" the story and take something away from it. It is set post season 4. The first few chapters will deal mainly with the aftermath of the season finale, to explain why the characters reacted the way they did and how they move on. This will hopefully set the scene for the actual story. The first chapter is quite short, I'm already in the process of checking over chapter 2 & 3 so they should hopefully be up soon. Again, enjoy...
Summary: What happens to House and Wilson's friendship after the devastating events of the season 4 finale? When Wilson is confronted with a serious illness, how will he cope and how will House react?
Chapter 1
On the day of the funeral, the weather was bright and sunny, but James Wilson could not bring himself to enjoy beautiful spring day even in the slightest. He drove alone to the cemetery, the radio, usually turned up to maximum volume, playing old country songs was now silent. Only a few days had gone by since the death of Amber Volakis and he was unsure how to deal with her death.
He had stayed at home since it happened, crying in her pillow, lying on their bed and reading her last note over and over again.
Sorry I'm not here. Went to pick up House. Love A
House. Wilson had not seen him since he left the hospital on the night Amber, when he had left House in the ICU, a sleeping Cuddy by his side. House had slowly opened his eyes and looked straight at Wilson. A questioning look, a stare begging him for forgiveness. But there was no need for forgiveness.
Wilson was not so much angry at House. He was angry at life, at the bus driver, the lorry driver, mostly at life. House had not intended to harm Amber. He had tried to get her to leave, but she had followed him onto the bus, not knowing that she would be dead in a weeks time. So no, Wilson was not angry and yet, with a certain irrational anger, he hated House. Hated House for ruining his life, his marriages, his relationship with Amber. And he hated that he felt guilty, so guilty for asking of House what he had asked.
Wilson had not wanted to see House after that night. Cuddy had phoned him multiple times, saying that House needed him, asking him how he was doing and giving him indefinite leave from the hospital. She had said House was doing well. He would be released in about a week, no lasting damage from the deep brain stimulation.
Still Wilson could not bring himself to go visit House. He could not face the deep blue, sad eyes of his former best friend. They had been so full of pain the last time he saw them, pain he had inflicted.
I had no right to ask him to do the procedure. I had no right to want to hate him.
However he had asked House and House had agreed, instantly, because he felt it was his duty to save Wilson's girlfriend, because he cared.
And that had perhaps been one of the most shocking revelations in this experience. House cared. Deeply. About Wilson. So much, that he would risk his own life for the minimal chance of saving Amber's.
The funeral passed by in a haze. Wilson stared blankly into space and afterwards could not remember who had been there. Had Cuddy been there? He was not sure anymore. The only thing he knew was that Amber was gone and House had not been there. House was in the hospital and it was Wilson's fault.
He went home, sat on his and Amber's bed and stared at the wall. And then he cried, cried for a love lost and a shattered friendship.
He sat there for days, not eating, hardly sleeping. He was no longer hungry. He was exhausted but did not want to sleep. Dark circles ran under his eyes.
Absentmindedly he rubbed at the big bruise on his thigh where House had kicked him when Wilson had tried to hold him still during the seizure. The bruise was big and an angry purple, but Wilson did not notice.
