Past Season 8. AU. One-shot. Now that the characters from House have been shelved by Fox, I'm taking them off the shelf to play. I don't own them and will return them, undamaged, sort of. This follows my story "Visiting Day," and some currently unpublished stories but you don't need them to understand this story. Fiona Buchanan and her family are original characters.

Wilson's Fourth Wedding

"Wilson, stop fidgeting."

"House, I know how to tie a bowtie better than you."

"It's basic training, Wilson. I know how to do it. I just don't like to. Now hold still or you'll end up looking like the Easter Bunny instead of a man on the way to his wedding."

"The Easter Bunny doesn't wear royal blue ribbons."

"He does after someone eats all his candy. Besides, how would you know? You're Jewish."

"My folks always let us have Peeps and chocolate bunnies."

"Oh, good grief," House muttered, gave Wilson's tie a final tug, and stepped back. "Why are you so nervous? You should be good at getting married, by now. Fourth time. Practice, and all that."

"Have you seen the size of Fiona's brothers?" Wilson muttered. House started whistling. "You're going to make me ask about the song, aren't you?"

House grinned and sang, "Many's the man, fought on that day, well the claymore could yield."*

"Claymore as in a landmine?" Wilson asked, really confused.

"No, dummy. A claymore is a two-handed medieval long sword, nearly five feet long. Her brothers look like they could handle one without blinking."

"You're not helping."

"Come on, Wilson. I'm married, to the right woman this time. It's time you got married to the right one, too."

"You think Fiona is the right one?" Wilson sounded uncharacteristically timid.

"Yeah, I think so. She's not in medicine or real estate, so she's outside your usual, needy orbit. She has tenure at Princeton. She's gorgeous, well not as gorgeous as Cuddy, but with that caveat, she beautiful, and for some unimaginable reason, she really likes you. Besides, she's got a rock hammer and she knows how to use it."

"First swords, now rock hammers. Does marriage always inspire you to thoughts of violence?"

"Your brothers-in-law to be are pretty intimidating. So is your father-in-law."

"Gentlemen all, a petroleum engineer, a barrister, and a commercial fisherman. And my future mother-in-law is as sweet and grandmotherly as your mother." That changed Wilson's mercurial mood. "God, House, after all that chemo, what if I can't make a baby? Fiona really wants a family."

House had had it. He limped over to Wilson, slung an arm around his shoulders, and turned him toward the door. "She's marrying you. She knows you've been sick and she knows you're in remission. Come on, Wilson, the poor, deluded lassie seems to want to get hitched to you. Let's get this show on the road."

"House."

"What?"

"Thank you for not throwing a bachelor party for me."

"Wilson, you wound me."

"It's still very nice of you to listen to me this time."

"My shrink says I have to. So does my wife. Come on, Wilson, you can't be late."

Two of Wilson's other marriages had taken place in the hospital chapel. He did not want to have what he hoped would be his last marriage ceremony in a place with those associations. Instead, they had rented a hall on the Princeton University Campus and had found a Unitarian minister to preside. House had joked that since Wilson was Jewish and Fiona, a good Scot, had been raised Presbyterian, they were splitting the difference.

A pianist and a violinist were playing quietly in the front right-hand corner of the room, mostly classical and soft jazz. The two were the same pair who had played for House's and Cuddy's wedding. They were half of a group that played blues and jazz in a club in downtown Trenton and with whom House jammed sometimes on weekends.

House and Wilson avoided the flower- and ribbon-strewn center aisle and walked down the aisle on the side of the room. House had his best, polished ebony cane. He limped next to Wilson to the makeshift altar at the front of the hall. The folding chairs left room for a hundred people and the invited guests filled them. The woman minister, dressed in a blue suit, waited at the front of the room, next to Wilson's older brother, Michael. Fiona's oldest brother stood there also, red-headed and bearded, towering over the others, even over House. Wilson's parents were already seated a row in front of Chase and Foreman. House looked over the guests. There was a seat left in the second row for Rachel, next to Lisa. Rachel, coached, primped, and dressed in a flower-petal pink dress, was in the back with the bridal party. She was going to be the flower girl.

Seated on the other side of the aisle were Fiona's mother, father and brother. Among Fiona's friends and relatives, House noticed Hannah Steinberg, Fiona's professor when she was a post-doc at Columbia University. Several of Fiona's colleagues and students from the Princeton University geology department had come, as well as two of her friends all the way from Scotland.

"Do you have the rings?" Wilson fretted.

House hooked his cane over his elbow and started the show of frantically patting his pockets. "Don't," Wilson muttered.

House stopped. "Stop worrying, Wilson. They're safe and sound in my…" Another frantic look, then House grinned. "It's fine." The musicians started in on "Mairi's Wedding." "Heads up," House warned. "If you're going to run, you'd better do it now."

Wilson seemed to relax. "No, I think I've finally figured it out."

The band switched to the wedding march. "Good, because I think you've figured it out, too." The family and friends seated in the hall stood. House gripped Wilson briefly on the arm and turned to watch Rachel walking toward them, tossing flower petals in front of her and to each side, tongue on one side of her mouth in concentration. When she got to the second row, Cuddy gently pulled her in to stand by her seat. House leaned on his cane and watched while Cuddy kissed Rachel on the forehead. Cuddy was in a gorgeous green wool suit that showed off her dark hair and brilliant eyes. Bobby was home with Arlene, far too young to come to a wedding. House felt the love for his two girls, for Wilson, even for his two former fellows, wash over him like a wave.

Fiona's sister and matron of honor walked down the aisle. Unlike her statuesque sister, Margaret Buchanan Gordon was much like her mother, small, rounded, and dark-haired. She carried the pink and yellow tea roses Fiona had chosen for her color scheme.

Fiona seemed petite on the arm of her tall, white-haired father. Her red hair was swept back under a circlet of flowers, with curls that flowed down her back. Her dress was a simple column of ivory silk. House watched as she and Wilson didn't take their eyes off each other. Wilson's other marriages had intimidated him. He had feared losing his best friend to the parade of wives, or to Amber. But now Wilson's family would join his as an extended family, and if children came along, all the better. He looked at Rachel and at Lisa and felt the love for his girls all over again. He grimaced briefly, wondering when he had become such a sap, and then he wondered why it had taken him so long.

*Skye Boat Song