Title: Mending a Broken Man

Disclaimer: Slash, language, and angst.

Chapter Twenty-One: Yours Completely

Wilson finally stopped pacing, standing in one spot with his hands on his hips. He eyed House who sat in the back of an ambulance that had parked along the curb in front of House's apartment. The paramedic was busy doing his job and Wilson noticed that House wasn't looking at him, that he was looking everywhere but at the oncologist. Wilson cleared his throat in hopes of catching House's attention. The doctor's eyes flickered in his direction but didn't linger.

"I don't understand you, House," Wilson spoke, the silence between them having been too much for him to handle. "I thought you were fine…"

House continued to say nothing, this time watching the paramedic applying the finishing touches to the bandage on his arm. "Change it daily and it should heal nicely, but you'll always have a scar," the paramedic remarked, dismissing House.

He was all too happy to get off the ambulance's bumper and head back to his apartment. Wilson said something to the medic that got caught in the wind and didn't reach House's ears. He limped into the building, his cane having been left beside the couch when the medics showed up. Instead of bothering to grab it he hobbled into his bedroom and shut the door before falling back into bed. The knife that he'd used to cut his arm lay on the floor, his blood still on the blade. He rolled onto his back so that he wouldn't have to see it.

A few minutes later the bedroom door opened. "Why?" was all that Wilson said as he sat at the foot of the bed.

"I thought you…" House's voice cracked. The last few days had been hell for him. He lost everything and gained it all back in the span of two weeks. It was a lot to take in. But to wake up in the morning and find that Wilson wasn't there, he'd thought the night before a dream and nothing more. When he called Wilson he thought he was calling him in Pennsylvania, the pain clogging his mind. He never expected his lover to arrive a handful of minutes later.

"I'm sorry, House. I never should have just left but there was something that had to be done this morning," explained Wilson. "If you'll forgive me…"

"Don't leave me again, please," whispered House.

Wilson hesitated before answering. "House…I have to go back out. That thing I told you about, that had to be done this morning? There is still one more part of that needs to be taken care of at the hospital." He checked his watch. "And I need to be back at the hospital in the hour."

"Then I'm coming with you," House said, sitting up in bed. "I need to pick up my prescription anyway."

"Promise me you'll check on Chase while you are there," Wilson said, standing, offering his hand to House and pulling him to his feet. "Cameron is really worried that you…" The words died on his lips.

"I what?"

Wilson ran a hand through his hair. It wasn't like him to be nervous around House. He was the only one in the hospital with enough balls to stand up to House each and every time the ornery doctor needed it. Sure, Cuddy could be ruthless and cruel but she never took the time to get inside House's mind the way that Wilson had. This was the first time he could remember being uncomfortable about talking to House.

"Wilson?"

"Well…you haven't been yourself lately," he said slowly. "It's like you've gotten lost and only part of you came back. What happened to the House that used to fight dirty and low? I got sent away, House, and you never once tried to stop them. Do you know that the entire time I was there I thought that you were happy I was gone? That was until Cuddy showed up at the hospital and told me how you were fairing. Why didn't you fight, House? Why aren't you fighting for Chase the way you fight for the people you don't know? Why aren't you you anymore?"

House looked into his eyes. "You know about the night terrors, Wilson. You've known how hard it's been for me this last month or so since I…fucked up. All right, I admit that I haven't been myself but I'm still trying to get my land legs back, so to speak. I was still trying to return to me when they took you away. Forgive me for not being strong all the time. When you left, the ground I'd been building underneath my feet shattered and began to fall away."

Suddenly Wilson stepped forward and wrapped his arms around House. He kissed the doctor on his cheek, his chin, his lips. "I'm not going anywhere this time, House. But I have to be clear with you on one thing," he said, stepping back so that he could look House in the eyes. "I don't love what you've become. I don't love this creature that lurks in the darkness of his bedroom and hurts himself. That's not you, it's not who I fell in love with over the years. I miss the stubborn fool that took pride in pissing people off. I want that House back."

"And if he doesn't come back?" House asked, his heart starting to ache. "Will you leave me, then? Will you take your stuff and walk back out the door and never look back?"

Wilson studied him, looking into his blue eyes, his gaze never wavering. "I don't know, House. I just don't know. I can't live with you like this. It scares me to think I might come home one night and find you gone because you took your life. Losing you would destroy my world. But watching you destroy yourself pains me more than you could ever imagine. I don't deserve to suffer for loving you, House. It's not fair."

To his surprise, House felt a tear slide down his cheek. "I'm sorry, Wilson," he said. Lately it had been Wilson doing all the apologizing; it was about time that he did some of his own. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Just promise me that you'll stop this," Wilson pleaded. "I'm not going anywhere, House. I'm yours if you want me."