Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me, I only write for fun.

Warnings: Pre-slash. Slash on later chapters.

Although this fic can be read alone, I've included references to my fic "A new start". So, if you haven't read it, you can find some facts described here that don't relate to anything that happened in the broadcasted episodes of the finale. They just belong to that fic.

As always, I thank my beta TrenchcoatsAreSexy for her help and support. And any remaining mistakes are my fault, not her's.

Chapter 1

"I feel like swimming," Wilson said, looking at the clear water of the river. They were only in the first days of June, but it was a very warm day.

A few minutes before, they had stopped on the shore of a small river that flowed next to the road. Wilson had deemed it as the ideal place to eat the sandwiches they had bought earlier in the morning.

"We don't have swimsuits," House stated, shrugging. He was seated on a big rock, placed under the shadow of a tree.

"We don't need them." Wilson dismissed House's objection.

"You don't plan on swimming naked, do you?" The diagnostician seemed a little disturbed by the idea.

"No, of course not!" Wilson said, as disturbed as his friend. "Although we are alone at the moment, there's a chance that somebody could pass by and see us. We'll swim with our boxers on."

"You mean that somebody could see you. I don't plan on swimming," House stated matter-of- factly.

"Oh! Come on, House! Be a little more adventurous." Wilson half-pouted, and House suddenly felt uncomfortable at the realization that the thought that had popped in his mind at the sight had been 'adorable'. "This is a spontaneous, carefree thing. I'm surprised you aren't jumping at the idea of a little fun."

"Your idea of fun and mine differ by a wide shot," House said, deadpan, at the same time that a scowl was shown on his face. "What would you do afterwards: put your pants on over your soaked boxers? Good idea, if you want to catch a bad cold. That certainly would sit very well to your little friend in your chest," House quipped with sarcasm dripping from his voice. Wilson made a face at House's tasteless joke.

"No, of course, not. I'll just go commando." Wilson answered, dismissing his urge to lash back with some other nastiness.

House didn't say anything else, but the grimace that crossed his face for a second was enough for Wilson to realize that his comment had upset his friend, although he couldn't understand why.

"What is it, House?" Wilson asked, concerned.

"Nothing, Wilson," House dismissed, his face a blank mask.

The oncologist crouched down in front of his friend, so as to keep their gazes at the same level. He wondered briefly why he had chosen to do something that could anger the diagnostician. Thinking of it, it was the way people talked to children and, although his friend was way past his fifties, in a way, House was like a child sometimes, so it only seemed fitting.

"It's something, House. I can see it. Whatever is it, what I've said has upset you." Wilson went to put his hand over House's, but, after a brief hesitation, he decided against it. "Why can't you tell me what's nagging at you?" He briefly wondered why he bothered. It wasn't like House to share his thoughts if they were related to something emotional.

"I've told you it's nothing. Just bad memories from a long time ago," the diagnostician said with a tight voice.

Wilson sighed. So, his comment had triggered unpleasant memories. And he had the unwelcome feeling that it had to do with his friend's late father.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, concerned. Wilson knew again that it was a stupid question, because he was sure what the answer was going to be. But he had felt compelled to ask it all the same.

"No, I don't." It was an expected answer from House.

Wilson stood up and started to unbutton his shirt, when House's strained voice astonished him.

"I was nine years old and I had gone with a few kids to play near a river-." House's narration was interrupted by a surprised Wilson.

"I thought you didn't want to talk about it."

"I don't want, but I have to." House sighed heavily and looked at his friend just for a second.

Wilson raised an eyebrow. He was at a loss here, for House was acting a bit... non-House-like, lately. In fact, he had been acting strange since his 'death'. Although some things never change, Wilson corrected himself a second after when he saw his friend reaching his pocket and taking an orange vial of pills. House dropped two small white pills on his hand and dry-swallowed them.

House really didn't want to talk about his childhood. It would mean dealing with strong emotions. Not really his choice subject for a talk. In fact, he wanted to avoid it like hell. But he felt that, if he really wanted to change, as he had promised to himself in that warehouse, he should start by opening a bit, sharing his emotions and feelings with his friend, as hard as that could be. Of course, he was going to share just that, a bit, for he wasn't trying to become a male version of Cameron. House took Wilson's silence as an invitation to continue.

"It was summer and we'd been playing on the sun for a few hours It was too hot and one kid suggested swimming in the river. I made a similar objection to the one I've made to you about the swimsuits. But he just laughed and answered that we were going to swim with our underwear on. But, when we get out from the river it was obvious we just couldn't put our trousers on. So, we went commando."

House took a shuddering breath. That had been the easy part. But the next... He almost jumped when he felt Wilson's hand upon his and saw his friend crouched down again, looking at him with a sympathetic gaze that he hated in other people, but warmed him when coming from Wilson, as long as it wasn't pity. Although, of course, he had always made his friend believe that not even sympathy was welcomed. Not that it had stopped Wilson from showing it.

"I hadn't thought anything of it. It had seemed so natural, so innocent..." His gaze hardened and his voice seemed even more strained, sharper. "It had been innocent till my father noticed it. He got mad and I knew I was in big trouble. He told me that it wasn't proper for me to go around without my underwear on. That only faggots went around like that... Fuck him, Wilson. It was stupid. He was stupid. Then, I didn't even knew what that word meant. Then, he asked me, all the same, if I wanted for people to think I was a faggot."

House looked away and tried to control the trembling that was threatening to overcome him. When he thought he had succeeded, he resumed his narrative, even if he was avoiding eye contact with his friend.

"By then, I had long learned what my answers to his questions must be, even if I didn't understand them. So I told him that no, that I didn't want that. And then, he..." He trailed off and closed his eyes against the onslaught of memories that flooded him. That was why he had never wanted to talk about his childhood, because it was like opening the Pandora's box.

"It's okay, House. You don't have to explain it to me. If you don't want to swim it's okay with me." Wilson told his friend seeing him struggling with his emotions and not liking at all where that story was heading.

Yes, enough is enough, House thought. Even more, because it was the first time he had opened up to his friend. So he looked again at Wilson and gave him a weak smile that didn't reached his eyes.

"Well, let's say that that day I learnt that going commando was a bad idea. I got a pretty hard negative conditioning from him." House's voice was full of contempt.

Wilson swallowed the lump in his throat. Suddenly, he felt so cold. He could see what House wasn't saying. After John's funeral, he had started to suspect that House had been an abused child, although he hadn't been able to confirm it. Till right now.

"Did.. did he... touch you?" Wilson asked, needing to know, but dreading the answer all the same.

"Not in the way you're thinking about," House hurried to reassure his friend, knowing what direction his thoughts had followed. His voice was still full of hatred. "But that doesn't mean that I got it easy at all. He had a lot of experience in disciplining the men under his orders, after all."

Wilson repressed a shudder. He had seen a lot of military films where officials disciplined their men in very cruel ways. The thought of some of those punishments being inflicted on a nine-year-old boy seemed ruthless, even more when that punishment had been exacted by a father upon his son because of a ludicrous belief. He felt the guilt creeping on him.

"It was wrong forcing you to go to his funeral. I'm sorry," he said remorsefully and gripped the hand that was still under his own.

"Don't be. I'm glad you did it." Surprisingly, House somehow seemed a bit less gloomy.

"Did you really want to go to his funeral?" Wilson asked, bewildered. After what he had just explained him and all the grief House had put him through in that journey, he couldn't believe that his friend had really wanted to go.

"Of course not! I would have preferred to do clinic than going to his funeral," House stated fiercely. Wilson raised an eyebrow. That was a lot to say, having in mind what his friend's love for clinic duty was.

"Then, why have you said-"

"It made you to came back to me." House didn't let Wilson finish his question.

Wilson looked at House with a mix of surprise and affection. That was possibly the most sincere declaration of love that House could utter. He didn't expect for House to tell him openly what his feelings were, but that single sentence had told him enough.

"You know he was wrong, don't you? His statement about going commando was a complete shit," Wilson said while looking at his friend with the same clear affection that was tinging his voice.

"I know." House answered simply.

"Then, are you going to swim with me?" Wilson asked hopefully. He wanted to enjoy things, but more than everything else, he wanted to enjoy them with House.

"Nope."

"But, you've just agreed that his statement was..." Wilson was puzzled about the seemingly contradiction.

"It has nothing to do with him. I wasn't going to swim before you said that," House said with a hint of frustration in his voice. Why couldn't Wilson leave it alone?

"Why?" Wilson was suspicious. He didn't believe House completely. He couldn't have any other reason to not swim. Or could he?

"The water is cold."

That statement in anybody else could have earned a mocking reaction, but Wilson knew better than mocking his friend because of that. Cold always worsened his friend's pain and he had noticed that, lately, House seemed to be in more pain than usual, although his friend negated it. Wilson was quite sure that going a large part of the day on the bike was to blame, so he had started to make some stops in the middle of the ride: to buy some sandwiches, to see some beautiful landscape, to swim,... It didn't matter to Wilson if any of them earned him a mock from his friend: any excuse was good if it allowed House's leg to have a rest.

"Do you mind if I swim?"

"Of course not."

Wilson nodded and smiled gratefully at House. He stand up and went a few steps away from his friend. He started to undress and House found himself staring at Wilson. He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help it. Since the car argument, back in Princeton, he couldn't avoid looking at his friend, wondering if things could go beyond the friendship they shared, but dreading it altogether.

He could clearly remember the night they had spent in his bed, before everything blew up. He could remember how he had been thinking about the possibility of furthering their relationship and how that could make it worse when Wilson... House shut briefly his eyes. No. He didn't want to think about that, so he kept thinking on that night shared in his bed.

Nothing had happened then, but it had felt so wonderful just the joining of their hands. He sighed. The next morning, the hospital lawyer had come with Foreman to tell him he had to go to prison again. He had been so desperate to avoid it, to not waste his friend's last months away from him in jail, but in his usual inane way he had burned all his bridges with Foreman and with Wilson, too. Then desperation had took him in and everything else was a blur.

Afterwards, since the beginning of their trip, their relationship was a little strained again. Yes, there was that new closeness between them, but it was more restrained than in the apartment. It was as if they were too afraid to let them go, for fear of being hurt. House could also detect a bit of resentment in Wilson about him faking his death, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to hear the reasons for that resentment. So he kept silent about it.

He realized that Wilson had noticed the stare, and was showing the discomfort at being observed. He didn't want his friend to recognize his true reasons for looking at him, so he did as usual: he deflected.

"I think this trip is making you to gain some pounds. Even from here, I can see some more spare tires than before," House said mockingly, but burying under that mocking tone his own embarrassment.

Wilson rolled his eyes and turned away towards the water, while muttering something that sounded like "that's a fucking lie."

House tried not to stare too much at his friend while he was swimming, but when he finally emerged from the waters, he couldn't help it. With the sun tinging his skin with golden shades and his wet hair clinging from his head, Wilson was a vision to behold.

"Oh, come on, House. Don't start again. I haven't gained weight." Wilson said exasperated.

He started to strip off his underwear, oblivious to the commotion his actions were causing his friend. House stood up quickly, more quickly than a cripple should, and started to go to the forest in front of Wilson.

"What happened?" Wilson asked, worried by the suddenness of his friend's movement.

"I have to pee. Unless you want me to do a show of it for you." House said in a strained voice. He left before Wilson could say anything else.

When he was out of Wilson's sight, he leaned against a tree. He sighed. What was wrong with him? He was attracted to Wilson. Yes, nothing new with that. He also had seen his friend naked before and that had never caused such impact on him. Why now? Again, he knew that the car conversation had had a big impact in their relationship, but he had never guessed how much . Perhaps, it was because before he had thought that Wilson would never welcome him stepping forward, but now it was a real possibility, not just an impossible dream.

For a couple of minutes, he stayed there, against the tree. However, he realized that he had to go back or Wilson would go searching for him.