Title: Aching

Author: jiraiyasgirl

LJ House of Fic Contest - Prompt #393: Wilson wakes up one morning and finds a tattoo on his body and he has no idea how it got there.

Pairing: None

Word Count: 576

Rating/Warning: G

Summary: The ache wasn't only emotional, turns out it was physical too…

Beta: hwshipper & Nimblnymph (Thank You, Thank You, Thank You!)
Disclaimer: House, Wilson, and all other characters belong to David Shore, Fox, etc….

Daylight greeted his weary eyes while a slight throbbing in his shoulder caused him to wake completely from his slumber. Rolling onto his side the oncologist reached his hand back to knead the aching joint when his fingers encounteredmedical tape and a square of gauze. Wilson's mind frantically tried to work through his post-drunken haze in order to piece together the previous night'sevents.

Twelve hours earlier he remembered, with a heavy heart, delivering his best friend to either his waiting salvation or his impending doom. He can still feelthe slight tremble of House's long fingers against his palm, the only indication House was as frightened as hewas, as House handed him his personal effects. Wilsoncould have sworn that before that moment the sun was shining and the sky was clear, but as the diagnostician made his way through the imposing iron doors it was as though a darkness hadsettled in the atmosphere as well as in his heart.

Almost two hours later found the Wilsoncurled on House's couch, a bottle of scotch tightly gripped in his left hand. Initially he had only stopped by to drop off House's things and ensure that all would remain safe and secure in the apartment until its owner returned. That thought, however, fell through as soon as Wilson spotted the bottle of Glenfiddich on the coffee table with an empty glass abandoned beside it. He sat wearily on the rich brown leather sofa and reached for the bottle, contemplating pouring himself a glass when he abruptly changed his mind and put the bottle to his lips instead.

This,Wilson realized, was the last thing he could remember. Looking around that last memory explained why he woke up in House's bed, but he still had no idea how he'd injured himself. Gingerly he got up and padded barefoot into the bathroom to investigate further what lay beneath the gauze. After flicking the bathroom light on,the brown-eyed doctor gently peeled the dressing off his shoulder which was not spotted crimson with blood, strangely enough, but with a myriad of colors. His mind reeled with what this discovery impliedand he hurried out to the linen closet where he had stashed his spare blow dryer and other personal items for those times he's spentthe night.

After rummaging for a moment he found the hand mirror he bought to trim the rather regrettable mustache he sported for a week after his second divorce, until he got so tired of being made fun of that he ultimately shaved it off. Rushing back to the bathroom Wilson turned his back to the vanity mirror and positioned the hand mirror, which he almost dropped when he realized what was causing his discomfort. He stared unblinkingly while his mind wrapped around what he saw and laughter sprung unbidden when he thought about what House would say when he saw it. This sobering notion halted his laughter immediately; House would not see it for God knows how long. It was this thought that finally caused Wilson to do the one thing he'd been fighting all along…to cry.

It was funny how his drunken mind could choose something this symbolic to represent all that he had repressed. Because like the Phoenix tattooed on his shoulder, Wilson has had to rise from the ashes of his life's destruction in the last year and he has to desperately believe that House will too.