Another II
Disclaimer: Still don't own it.
A/N: Pretty much what I did was I wanted to go into more detail of my story 'Another' so this is what happened from Wilson's point of view and not in poem format. It'll also go into how Cameron reacts to the news of Chase's suicide attempt. You don't actually have to read 'Another' to understand. But for those of you that did, I am much less angsty right now.
Wilson watches from the Hospital doors as Cameron and Chase argue. To anyone else it might not have looked like an argument, just a discussion between colleagues, but Wilson knows better. How many times has he been in the same position Chase is now? Watching the woman you love tell you good bye and walk out of your life. Chase watches her walk away, her dark curls bouncing behind her. He turns for a second, looking at Wilson with tears in his eyes. He shakes his head softly and walks towards his car, head hung in defeat. His hand comes up to his throat and with a slight jerk her pulls something off from around his neck. He holds it for a second before he drops it to the ground. Wilson waits until he's left to go and retrieve the fallen artefact. It's the small silver crucifix, hanging from rose crystal beads that nobody even knew he still had, tucked under his shirt like any good catholic boy. Why would he give it up?
Wilson goes to his office to finish his paper work, but something keeps nagging at the back of his mind. He doesn't know why, but he's worried about Chase. His sleeves are rolled up and he sees the faded scars that run across his arm. They're the faded remnants of his depression following his first divorce. So faint you can't see them except in certain light and when he gets a bad sun burn.
The rosary beads lay on his desk and he realizes what it might mean. That the boy really has given up, admitted defeat, and just doesn't care anymore. It's a feeling he knows well enough and his heart skips a beat. He stands quickly and grabs his coat, leaving the beads on his desk. Chase is in trouble, he just knows it.
He checks Chase's personnel file as he leaves to get his address and speeds off down the street reciting the information in his head.
"Please, don't let me be too late," he prays under his breath. He reaches the apartment in record time and climbs the stairs quickly because the adrenaline is rushing too quickly to let him stop and take the elevator. He takes a deep breath outside the door and knocks quickly. If Chase is alright, he doesn't want to seem panicky.
Nothing…so he knocks again, more insistently than the first time.
"Chase? Are you alright?" He calls, but there's no response except for the door behind him opens and Chase's neighbour across the hall peeks her head out.
"Can I help you with something?" she asks, she can't be more than twenty years old, and wears too much colourful make up and acid wash blue jeans and white tank top. Wilson takes a deep breath and tries to smile.
"Do you know if the person that lives here is home?" he asks. She nods.
"He got in twenty minutes ago. He seemed really out of it though; he might've gone to bed."
"Shit." Wilson bangs on the door again, even more insistently. The girl rolls her eyes and starts back inside when Wilson stops her.
"Do you have a key to his apartment? Like in case of emergencies?"
"Um…yeah?"
"Can I have it? I work with him at the hospital and I think he might be in trouble." She nods quickly and grabs the key off a counter just inside the door and hands it to him. He fights it into the lock and pushes in.
The door bursts open and he sees it, a sight that makes his blood run cold as ice through his veins.
"Call an ambulance!" he yells at the girl as he rushes into the small apartment and to Chase's side.
Chase is lying on the floor, blood flows from a gash in his left arm and he holds an exacto knife in the other. Wilson drops to his knees and pulls the boy into his arms. He digs his fingers into Chase's left bicep, putting pressure on the artery, to slow the bleeding. The neighbour has returned telling him that the ambulance is on the way.
"Please, Chase, hang on, I'm here. Please don't leave me. Stay with us, help is coming, you'll be okay." Every possible word of comfort flows from his lips as he tries to keep Chase alive. But Chase closes his eyes, letting go.
"No! Chase, don't let go, don't close your eyes, please! Stay with me, Chase, please!"
Wilson is crying when the paramedics get there. They tie off the artery that Wilson's been keeping pressure on and wrap the wound in a tight bandage. Wilson rides with them to the hospital, and stays beside Chase until he's wheeled into the ER. The adrenaline leaves him and he drops into the nearest chair.
He calls House.
"What?" asks the older doctor loudly, anger obvious in his voice. Wilson takes a shaky breath and repeats himself.
"He tried to kill himself. I found him on the floor in his apartment. You should be here."
"Why?" asks House, quietly, not as though he thinks it's not important, but as if he can't see why Chase would want him to be there.
"Because, you're like a father to him. He needs you." House agrees and hangs up.
The next day Wilson is sitting beside Chase in the ICU. His hands are folded in prayer and he doesn't look up until a voice from the door catches his attention.
"How is he? Will he be alright? Is he awake?" asks House, firing rapid shot questions at Wilson in near desperation. He's been kept in his office all day, and finding it impossible to do anything but try and pretend he isn't worrying about his duckling. This isn't like Foreman being ill, this is something he can't control, can't stop, and can't fight.
Wilson looks up, and shakes his head.
"Another moment and he might not have made it." House nods and takes a deep breath.
"You saved his life." Wilson shakes his head again and looks at the blond in front of him. Blue eyes stare up at the ceiling, and Wilson reaches down to take his hand.
"He's awake," he whispers. House sits down on the other side of the young Aussie and takes his other hand. Chase looks first at Wilson and a small smile plays at his lips. He looks to the other side and his look changes. The smile disappears to show shock and then returns again a little bigger. Wilson let's a sob slip and even House can't stop the tear that threatens to fall and after a moment a single drop slips down his chiselled face. He never knew how much the young duckling meant to him, but he's glad to see him still alive.
"You scared the crap outta us," says House.
"We didn't know if you were going make it," says Wilson, trying to hold back tears. House may be able to completely distance himself from cases, from people, but Wilson didn't share that talent. The thought of loosing Chase, even if they weren't friends, scared the hell out of him.
"Sorry…" The word slips out of Chase's mouth so quietly that Wilson almost misses it. House shakes his head, but Wilson needs to bite back a sob.
"Thank God you're alright," he whispers. "Thank God."
"Why would you do something so stupid?" asks House. Wilson knows…but he waits to see if Chase answers.
"I…not right now," he says and Wilson nods. House says something completely out of character as he stands to leave.
"Take as much time as you need. We'll be waiting for you." And with that he's gone, limping out of the ICU room and off towards his office. If he knew why his youngest fellow had almost died, he might be heading of to kill someone, but for now he is simply heading back to work with the knowledge that Chase will survive.
"It was her, right?" asks Wilson. Chase simply nods and closes his eyes.
"I've been there; you know…where it seemed that death was the only answer. It hurts so much that you can't breathe, can't think, and you just want it to end. You can't let it stop you. It'll be alright in the end. If you ever need to talk, whenever you want to, I'm always here. Okay?"
"Thank you." Chase smiles a true smile for the first time in fifteen years. Wilson squeezes his hand reassuringly.
"Oh, I almost forgot," Wilson reaches into his pocket and pulls out the crystal and silver rosary. He gently places it in Chase's hand, and waits until the boy closes his fingers around the cool metal.
"Wilson…"
"Don't give up…and don't let that go." He touches Chase's cheek gently to brush away a tear that's slipped across the pale face, and then leaves. He wants to talk to Cameron.
Cameron is in his office, standing beside his desk, when he finally gets there. Wilson looks at her, standing there looking so concerned with her hands clasped in front of her and her hair pulled back.
"Is he okay?" she asks. He takes his time closing the door, not looking at her, and walking into the room. He's standing right in front of her when he finally speaks.
"He'll live. It'll take a long time for him to fully recover, not just physically but psychologically as well. He's lucky to be alive," says Wilson calmly, keeping the anger out of his voice.
"Did he say why? Why he…tried to…" she trails off, unable to accept that Chase would be so broken that he'd want to end it all.
"He didn't say…he didn't need to."
"What do-?"
"Are you really that blind?" Wilson has never particularly liked Cameron. In his opinion she plays with other people's feelings and is just a little annoying.
"Excuse me?"
"Do you really think it's a coincidence that the night you break his heart he tries to kill himself? That this is not your fault?"
"I didn't-!"
"You did. I saw you, and I saw the look on his face. How do you think I knew that something was wrong?" Wilson has never had a reason to care about Chase, but he's felt the young man's pain and he was the one who found him. He knows what it feels like and between his dislike for Cameron and his empathy for Chase he's found an anger he never knew he had.
"All I said was that it was over. If he can't handle that it's not my fault." She's nearly crying now. There's no defiance in her voice and she's trying just as hard to convince herself.
"You knew that he was hurt. You've worked with him long enough to know these things. It wasn't that you ended it; it was that you used him. Now you don't even have the decency to talk to him yourself? You should've been waiting by his bedside for him to wake up, not stalking my office for second hand news," snaps Wilson, and Cameron almost cringes.
"I don't love him! I never did! I can't love him like he wants me to."
"Then you shouldn't have gotten involved with him in the first place."
"This isn't my fault!"
"Did you ever consider what you were doing to him? That you might be destroying him or the impact that ending it might cause."
"I told him not to get attached! That I was nothing serious!"
"And you thought that he could just turn of his feelings? Cameron, are you really so daft that you though it wouldn't affect him in the slightest? To say you want nothing more that sex is to say that you were just using him and never really cared."
"Wilson, this isn't my fault!" She's completely in tears now, her make up blurring around her eyes. "Please stop blaming me!"
"You like people that are broken? Well he's broken now!" Wilson shouts back at her. She pushes past him, face buried in her hands as she flees his office. How could he say something like that? But deep down she knows he's right.
Three hours later after he's caught up on some fairly important paperwork, Wilson returns to Chase's room. When he reaches the doorway he looks in and sees Cameron there, occupying his usual seat. She's holding his hand and gazing down at him. Her make up is gone and her face is stained from tears.
Wilson leans in the doorway and watches, listening as she pours out her apology.
"Chase…Robert, I'm so sorry. Wilson's right, I am blind. I didn't even think of what you were going through, of what I was doing to you. I never thought it would come to this, that you would try…try to kill yourself. I never meant to hurt you, but…I'm just so stupid! I…I don't know what to do. Please, forgive me? I know I was wrong, I can see that now. It shouldn't have taken this, but, oh God, I'm so stupid. Please…please forgive me."
"Allison..." Chase's voice is still weak and strained, but Wilson can hear him. "I forgive you…I love you." She breaks down again, new tears flowing again.
"I love you too, Robert. I'm so sorry for everything, but I do love you." Chase smiles, reaching up to touch her face, and Cameron stands. "I've gotta get back to work, but I'll be by later."
"Okay." She kisses his lips before she walks towards the door and sees Wilson. Her back straightens a little more and she brushes past him. Wilson waits until they're out in the hall to speak.
"If you loved him, why did you turn him away before?" he asks; his voice ice cold.
"That's none of your business," she snaps back at him.
"He almost died! I found him in a pool of his own blood an inch from death, Cameron that makes it my business!" He grabs her arm and pulls her to face him.
"I-"
"You only love him because he's broken. So what happens when he's better? When he's not recovering from death, when he's back to normal? Will you still love him then? Or will you move to the next person who 'needs' your love?"
"How can you even say that?"
"Because I might not be there next time to pull him off the ledge you keep creating for him. I won't stand by and watch you kill him again."
"He doesn't need you anymore, so back off." She pulls her arm free of his grip and storms off down the hall.
Wilson turns and walks into Chase's room.
"What was that all about?" he asks as Wilson sinks into the chair beside him.
"What do you mean?"
"The argument, the accusations, everything outside. I can still hear you know."
"She deserved it."
"Isn't that for me to decide?"
"Chase…I don't know what goes on in your head, and I'm pretty sure I don't want to, but I won't let her use you."
"I know…"
"You really love her?"
"Yeah, I really do."
"Then I wish you the best and I'll be there if it falls apart."
"Thank you."