Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, or they'd already be back together. The angst is such sweet torture.
Another in my series of motivation-exploring episode tags. I have a few theories as to why Wilson is really doing this, so I'm going to explore them all through House in these fics. I have a huge feeling that the PI is a liar. And yes, the slash is intentional, but possible to ignore for now. No promises about future fics.
Wilson shut the door, hyper aware of House's presence on the other side. After all the struggle to quit the man cold turkey, the will it had taken to move on, he just shows up on his doorstep. Shows up spouting the same shit as always, wearing the same weary darkness etched in the lines of his face. With the same piercing eyes that cut right through Wilson's defenses every time.
But something had been different. He had been … open. Even when he couldn't meet Wilson's eyes, rambling about needing his help with the diagnosis. There was a vulnerability beneath the surface Wilson had rarely glimpsed before – a vulnerability laid bare when the other man desperately kept the door from closing him out. And then he'd said it.
"How are you doing?"
Oh God. He actually wanted to know. He actually cared. It was too much. Genuine emotion was seeping from the other man like an open wound welling up with blood.
Please don't do this. Please don't be here, like this, making me regret ever walking out. It had to be more manipulation, just another round in the sick game they always played. It couldn't be genuine; nothing between them had ever been genuine. He had to close the door, had to get away from the hurt flashing in House's eyes – Wait, a Private Investigator?
He really hadn't changed. Anger pushed Wilson onward, giving him the strength to hold strong as House waivered and railed unsteadily, grasping for a way back into his life. That anger pushed him through the necessary speech and let him finally close the door on House with a resounding thud. That should have been the end, a clean break allowing him to move on.
But he could still feel the presence on the other side of the door. He leaned against the back of a nearby couch, before sliding down to sit on the floor with a huff. After all his striving, House had just waltzed in and reignited the chaos. This was why it needed to end, right? Because these feelings weren't real. They never had been. Everything was based on lies and manipulation. They had nothing else, never had.
Right?
Wilson looked at the phone suspiciously. He wanted to call Cameron, confident she was the only one who could talk him down from their encounter, remind him why he had to hold strong. But if House had the phones bugged, he might know anything he said. Then again, House hadn't mentioned any of his earlier conversations with Cameron. The ones where she hinted at certain feelings Wilson might have for House, certain feelings he might have been running away from. And he then of course rebuffed her hints, because she was clearly being ridiculous.
But they still talked in circles around it every time.
He was sure House would have mentioned it had he known. So either the P.I. was bad at his job, or he was lying to House for God knows what reason. Either way, he was probably safe for now.
So he would call Cameron and not-talk about House, ignoring the deeply buried wish to be talking to him.
James Wilson was being selfish. House supposed he had Amber to thank for that. Not that he was disrespecting the dead – Jimmy always could have thought about himself more. But he had never needed to. House had been there.
He would never have admitted it, still would only to himself, but he had always considered himself the protector of Wilson's interests. He was blunt when the other man needed it, giving him an excuse to voice the thoughts and feelings he would have otherwise demonized. Or, when things got harder, he would do the voicing for him. He could be the bastard Wilson couldn't be. And when all else failed, he made himself enough of an ass that he could wreak any potentially harmful relationships.
Amber had been different. She might have actually been good for Wilson, being like himself minus the emotional constipation. So he could tolerate it. All that later screwing with them was just …
Jealousy.
He just thought it was amusing to screw with Wilson's relationships. He couldn't give up the sport.
Jealousy.
And he could already see that Amber might take the "changing Jimmy" thing too far. Obviously, he was right. It definitely wasn't –
Jealousy.
He sunk into his office chair with a pained sigh. He hadn't had a chance to think about all this until his epiphany was secured and the case was tucked away. Now that he had a moment to himself, the confrontation was playing over and over in his head. He had tried the usual tactics, knowing they wouldn't work. He'd tried the new tactics, hoping Wilson's usual bleeding heart wouldn't fail him. But even genuine emotion had made no difference.
Still, he just couldn't accept that their relationship actually meant nothing to Wilson. How could he devalue everything they'd been through? Wilson had risked losing his medical license and landing in jail for him. House had risked his life for Amber. No, for Wilson. He had risked his life for Wilson.
And in the stupid screwed up ways they'd clung to, they had been there for each other. No, this wasn't so simple. An important clue was missing. So House would do whatever it took to uncover the missing information and solve the mystery, like he always did. And then he could get Wilson back.
Or at least know why he never could.