Broken
Author: Mrs. Ronald Weasley
Rating: PG-13 or T
Pairing/s: House/Wilson
Warnings: Slash, Slightly aggressive swearing
Category: Angst/Romance/Tragedy
Summary: Both men want what they know they can't have. Songfic to Seether and Amy Lee's "Broken". House/Wilson Slash. Takes place after Babies & Bathwater.
A/N: I thought that I might explore the world of Slash and decided to do it with the House fandom, as I think these two are the cutest together! I do have a House/Wilson friendship story in the works, which I will post when I think it's ready.
I think this fic explores both character's emotions very well towards each other; Wilson's caring and loving nature, and House's ability to hide his behind his sometimes brutal comments. Anyway, please let me know if you like this.
I wanted you to know that I love the way you laugh
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain away
I keep your photograph and I know it serves me well
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain
It was late at night and James Wilson still sat in his office; he had just unfinished unpacking it after being asked to come back to work by Cuddy. He had almost refused, remembering who he had resigned to save, but once he found out that Vogler had been canned he decided that maybe it was worth it.
He glanced at the clock, it read one-twenty seven a.m. Wilson had left House's office just over an hour ago, after the party ended.
It was now that James had the time to play over the day's events in his head and he wondered why he did the things he did for House. House after all was often a self-centered asshole, but for some reason Wilson loved him for it.
James wasn't sure when he came to the realization that he loved Gregory House, but he knew that he did. He had always had an eye for beautiful women and they for him, but now it seemed that the only person Wilson could look at with such attentiveness was his best friend, he wouldn't go so far as to call him his lover because he could never express his feelings for another man like he could a woman. Maybe it was because he was scared that Greg didn't feel the same way, no he knew that House didn't love him, well at least not in same way he did.
The argument that the two of them had had earlier that day, while Wilson was packing up his office, had nearly brought him to tears. God, what he would've done at that moment to see House just laugh it off when they were done. He loved that laugh, but Greg could never know that.
Wilson knew that the only reason why House was the way he was, was because that he lived in constant pain. The physical pain was from the pain in his leg that the dead muscle tissue brought. James wasn't sure of the extent of this pain; all heknew was that House couldn't go without his Vicodin, no matter how much he was addicted to it.
House's emotional pain was the on set of his only one true love leaving him: Stacy Warner had gone against Greg's wishes during the infraction and had gotten him the surgery that he didn't want.
James knew that Stacy had done only what she thought was the best thing to do. Greg after all had nearly died, and she did what Wilson probably would've done in that situation.
After the operation, House had chewed her out for going with the surgery and she had left.
Wilson sighed and leaned back in his chair, his dark brown eyes caught sight of the only picture that sat on his desk: one of him and Greg. At the time they had been leaving a rock concert and Stacy and Wilson's first wife had snapped the picture of the grinning friends.
He picked it up, sighed again, and said, "God House, whatever led you to believe that I didn't love you all this time? I wish I could be the one to take your pain away." Letting out another sigh he continued, "But that can never happen because you're too damn afraid to let anyone close to you, into your heart." James stared at the picture a moment more before setting it back down on the desk.
Because I'm broken when I'm lonesome
And I don't feel right when you're gone away
You've gone away; you don't feel me here anymore
Wilson sat contemplating weather or not he should go home. Julie wasn't home, which was just as well. But even when she was, he felt as if he was coming home to nothing anyway.
Nothing, it wasn't quite the word for it; it was loneliness. Loneliness because he felt empty inside, and for a moment he felt like there really was nothing inside.
James knew the cause of this broken feeling; is wasn't because he marriage was falling apart, he had known that was going to happen for a while now and it didn't matter anyway, he didn't love Julie, he loved House. And that was the cause of all of this pain and emptiness.
Wilson felt as if Greg had left him completely, even though he was still his so called friend, 'I've only got two things that work for me: this job and this stupid, screwed-up friendship, and neither mattered enough to you to give one lousy speech.' James' own words echoed in his mind; he had been so pissed off at that moment and House was about to apologize and he had pushed it away, accusing him of saying that nothing mattered to him anymore. Which, Wilson wasn't quite sure that anything did.
He remembered that right after House had left his office; Wilson had tossed the file on his desk and fought back the urge to cry. Because for some reason, James felt like he was incomplete, like a piece of his very heart and soul had been ripped from his body when House stalked out of his office.
It was only when Greg had had an argument with him or that if he spent any time away from House that Wilson felt the emotional pain of having something from your life missing and he wasn't sure if he could ever have that piece back, especially if Greg didn't feel the same way about him.
Wilson was right; House really didn't care for him anymore.
The worst is over now and we can breathe again
I wanna hold you high, you steal my pain away
There's so much left to learn and no one left to fight
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain
The clock in Gregory House's office stuck 2 a.m. He didn't care that he had a shift to start early. Besides he wasn't sure that even if he tried to sleep, that he would succeed.
After the party had ended, he had decided to stay. His mind had too many things racing through it had he couldn't control. This all had to do with one person: Wilson.
Several times since he had found out that James had resigned to save him, House had wondered if he really was worth saving, after all he was a self-centered asshole and everyone knew it, including James. So why would he do this for him?
Not that it all mattered, not now, cause they both still had their jobs, although Wilson came so close to permanently loosing his and Greg knew it was all his fault.
But wait, yes it did all still matter to him; his undying love for Wilson was what had kept him from completely throwing their friendship out the door. The argument that they'd had earlier was still stuck in his mind and the fact that after James had cut off his apology in mid sentence meant that Wilson hated him.
But Greg had been so self-absorbed in his anger at Wilson that he had failed to notice the pain on that handsome face, the tears that filled those brown puppy dog eyes that he loved so much.
"I didn't think that you would still be here," a quiet, soft voice filled the room. Greg couldn't see who it was, didn't need to. His voice always sent shivers through Greg's body and his heart racing, although no one could ever know that.
"I can't stop thinking," House replied, as Wilson stepped into the moonlight streaming in through the open blinds on the window.
"You wanna talk about it?" James asked, sitting down in a chair in front of House. He heard a sigh come from the man that he loved more than anything the world.
House let out a tiny laugh, "You are such an ass, you know that?"
Wilson was slightly taken aback by his slightly harsh words, but he just shrugged it off and said, "Yeah so, what's new?"
Greg laughed more ruthlessly and said, "What I don't get is why the hell you would sacrifice your life, your job, for me?"
"You're my friend," James countered quietly. "Besides, it doesn't really matter now what I did, it's all over and everything is as it was." But not as it should be he wanted to add, but thought better of it.
"Right, you think that now that everything is fixed and we both still got our jobs that we just carry on like nothing ever happened."
"Oh, come off it!" Wilson burst out, and immediately he was sorry. "We got through this, everything's as good as it's gonna get, and at least we can breathe easier knowing that we'll never have to face Vogler again."
"James…"
"What!" The bitterness in his voice was partly from his anger and partly from surprise; Wilson wasn't sure House had ever before used his real first name. Wilson wanted very badly to stop and listen to what Greg had to say, but his emotions had the better part of his control and he continued, "No! And you know what!" Fuck the consequences, he thought. "I am goddamned sick and tired of your shit, Greg! I'm tired of living like this, tired of pretending that our little flirt sessions don't mean anything! Cause they do, maybe not to you, but they sure as hell mean something to me! I love you! God, I love you Greg, and if you don't feel the same way, tell me now, cause I don't think I could stand another minute of this fucking hell." Wilson was on his feet and had started to pace through his little yelling session. He had stopped now, eyes ablaze and fixed on House's shocked face, his chest heaving with his uneven breathing.
The response that James was looking for was not what he got. House got up off his chair; a bewildered look now on Wilson's face, limped over and captured Wilson's mouth with his own.
The kiss was slow and tender, but it broke when House pulled back from a shocked Wilson.
Greg's blue eyes poured rivers into James' dark brown, "I know this is what you want. And I want it too, God I've wanted it for past year."
"Then, let's go home. Please tell me that I can fix this. I can steal your pain away, Greg. I would want nothing less." House gave Wilson a sad smile and looked away, when his gaze met Wilson's again, James could tell something was not right.
"I can't because I know that what you want, I can't give you," House's voice was soft.
"What? You can't let me into your heart? Is that it?" Wilson's voice was harsh and it cut through the air like a knife. House removed his stare from Wilson's to look at the floor. James stepped back, shaking his head. "Fine. But don't expect things to ever be the same between us again." With that he walked out the office door and left a heartbroken House behind.
Cause I'm broken when I'm open
And I don't feel like I am strong enough
Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome
And I don't feel right when you're gone away
All the way through the Hospital, Wilson fought the urge to scream, cry, and destroy everything he could possibly get his hands on. When he reached the dimly lit parking garage, he dug furiously into his pocket for his car keys. He found them, and jammed them into the door and then into the ignition. James left the parking garage in such a rage that he forgot to put his seatbelt on.
House stood frozen, in his office. He knew that he probably should've followed Wilson, lest he did something stupid in his anger.
But that probably wasn't the best thing to do at the moment, so he went back to his desk and pulled out a full bottle of Scotch that he kept hidden from Cuddy. House pulled a shot glass out, opened the bottle and started to drink, taking a few Vicodin pills. He was totally oblivious to the commotion in the ER a few floors below.
"What have we got?" The night shift ER doctor asked, while approaching a stretcher that was being rolled in by the EMT's.
"Male, MVA victim, he was thrown from the vehicle, was unable to get an ID, shocked him twice en route, BP and pulse are both dropping," the male EMT rattled off.
The ER doctor looked down at the man; his face was so badly injured that there was no way they were going to get a witness ID on him, considering the poor young man even lived.
"Get an IV going, and order chest X-rays," the doctor commanded a nearby nurse. "He most likely has internal injures." They hooked the patient up to several machines. "Get a crash cart!" the doctor yelled, his eyes went up the EKG monitor, and it was flat lined.
"Starting CPR!" a nurse said and did so as the crash cart was rolled into the room.
"Charging!" the doctor called while he squirted gel on the paddles. "Clear!" The man's body on the stretcher jumped as the shock went through him. The EKG beeped and then went flat again. "Charging!" the doctor called for a second time. "Clear!" He looked hopefully at the monitor, nothing.
"That's it," the doctor stated, setting the paddles down. He ripped his blood stained gloves off and threw them in the bin. He looked at the clock. "Time of death, 4:13 a.m." Before he exited the room he called to the nurse. "Get an ID, will you? And call his family."
She nodded and picked up the clothes that they had cut off the man. She searched through the pockets; finally she came across a wallet. She opened it and nearly fainted when she saw the name on the Hospital ID that he carried: Dr. James Wilson.
Cause I'm broken when I'm open
And I don't feel like I am strong enough
Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome
And I don't feel right when you're gone away
House looked at the clock: four-fifteen. Not seconds later his pager went off. He wondered who would be paging him at this hour, he had no patients. Oh shit, he thought and he pushed the thought of Wilson lying dead on the floor of his home, blood pouring from his wrists or throat.
He pulled it off his belt and saw that the hospital ER was the one paging him. Panic flowed through his veins, and his heart rate quickened as he hurried from his office and down to the ER. "Someone paged me!" House demanded at the front desk.
"Are you Dr. House?" the woman asked.
"Yes! What do you want?"
"Dr. House?" Greg turned at the sound of another man.
"Yes?" he asked limping over.
"I'm Dr. Greenwood," the man introduced himself. His look suddenly changed to one that held sorrow and sympathy and this made Greg's heart beat even faster. "You're friend, Dr. Wilson," he gave a sad smile. "Came into the ER a short while ago with extensive injuries following a MVA. When he arrived he was barely alive, we shocked him twice after he flat lined. I'm sorry, but we couldn't get his heart beating again."
"WHAT?" he yelled. "YOU ONLY SHOCKED HIM TWICE THAT'S NOT ENOUGH! YOU COULD'VE TRIED HARDER!"
"I'm sorry, EMT's said they shocked him twice en route and just barely got a pulse. There's nothing more we could've done." House just nodded overcome with shock and emotion.
"Can I see him?" The doctor nodded and led House into the room where Wilson's broken body lay. The sight nearly made Greg completely break down. "Leave please, and I don't want anybody in here until, I'm done. You understand?" The doctor nodded and stood for a slight moment before turning and leaving.
A blood stained sheet covered the bottom half of James' body and the top half was still hooked up to the machines and monitors. Slowly House approached him, tears in his pain filled blue eyes. He pulled over a nearby chair and sat slowly down on it; Greg's hand found James' pale, blood covered, and cold one, and he held on for dear life. The tears now freely running down his face, his pain magnifying a thousand times, he let out a sob and pressed Wilson's hand to his mouth to kiss it. "I'm so sorry, James… I love you so much," With his free hand he reached over and started to pull off the various wires and tubes attached to Wilson's body.
Overcome in his sadness, House sat there grieving for the first time in his life. He laid his head down on the bed and cried, his hand still attached to Wilson's until he fell asleep or died. He hoped beyond hope for the latter.
Because I'm broken when I'm lonesome
And I don't feel right when you're gone away
The funeral was simple and small; Julie had pretended to be heartbroken over her husband's death, but she knew no real pain. Only House knew pain, more pain than ever.
He wouldn't sleep for days and when he'd come to work, he would have to go home because he couldn't stand one moment in that hospital without losing control and breaking down. When he was at home, Greg would drink and drink until he passed out and then take a bunch of Vicodin, hoping they would kill his emotional pain as well as his physical.
Cameron found him one night, lying on the floor of his apartment; passed out and nearly dead from his overdose and alcohol poisoning. She taken him to the hospital, he'd had his stomach pumped and he lived; much to his dismay.
The night that he was released from the hospital he decided that enough was enough and swallowed a whole bottle of Vicodin.
Greg couldn't see while he was driving as fast as his corvette would allow down the dock. When the dock came to an end, him and his car flew off into the dark water. He made no attempt to get out.
Two lovers, torn apart in life. Reunited in death.
You've gone away; you don't feel me here anymore
A/N: Ok, I hope that's not as chessy as it sounds. God, after writing that I need to read some serious House/Wilson fluff. Please review, cause I wanna know how much I suck at writing House and Slash.