Title: HERE'S TO MY HEART (1/2)

Author: lbc

Pairing: House/Wilson; mention of Amber

Rating: Pre-slash in this part, but mentions of m/m relationships.

Disclaimer: I sure wish I owned these guys, but David Shore does.

Note: This was written for Valentine's Day

Summary: Wilson receives a gift on Valentine's Day.

Prologue:

Lisa Cuddy stood outside of the PPTH clinic, watching her two best doctors banter back and forth with each other about something - - probably Amber. It was good to see the two men together. Things had not been the same since Amber and Wilson had begun seeing each other.

House had always been very possessive of his friend. They had been close before the infarction, and it had been Wilson who had picked up the pieces after Stacy had left and House began to recover.

Cuddy knew that House would never completely forgive her, Cuddy, for being involved in the infarction treatment. She couldn't really blame House. His constant pain had changed the man, now House might have to feel more pain - - if Wilson decided to become more committed to Amber.

Cuddy sighed. She had meant what she said to both men. House was the neediest person she knew and that he would never lose Wilson. Amber did look out for herself first and Wilson should tread carefully if he planned to be more involved with a woman who only saw the world through her own specially-created glasses.

Shaking her head, Lisa Cuddy, Head of Princeton-Plainsboro began to walk towards her office, totally oblivious to the momentous events that were about to break forth over the two individuals that had occupied her thoughts.

Valentine's Day

James Wilson walked into his office, feeling exhausted. Amber certainly was keeping him occupied. She was a dynamo - - in more ways than one, but he had had a lot to think about since Christmas, and his office represented that respite.

As he prepared to sit down, he noticed a small heart-shaped candy box, sitting on his desk. Hesitant to open it, his first thought was that Amber had sent him something. He felt delight but a grimace crossed his handsome face as he remembered that his own gift was less . . . what? It was practical, but then that was the way that Amber was, just like House. Here the oncologist stopped, rubbing and pinching his nose as he remembered the words that his best friend had said several weeks ago. "You are sleeping with me."

Sighing, Wilson flopped into his chair, picking up the small cardboard heart. His physician-trained hands ran over it, with almost a caress. Without really thinking about it, he gently ran his left hand over every edge of the box. Finally, breathing out a sigh of frustration at his lack of backbone in just opening the package, he tore at the cellophane.

Inside was a chocolate heart, very plain but obviously made of an expensive chocolate. It seemed as if it was blank then removing it from the box, Wilson noticed the delicate script, written in the same chocolate and raised relief:

Here's My Heart

Wilson sat there dumbfounded. Amber wouldn't do this. She was too . . . down to earth. Practicality had been one of her attractive qualities. Wilson smiled as he remembered that day in the restaurant when she had grown tired of waiting and taken the bull . . . really the maitre d' . . . by the horns and got them a table.

A trouble look passed the handsome face as Wilson remembered that that was the day that House had followed them and ranted about the less than stellar characteristics of Amber and then had come to a full stop, seemingly astounded that he was also describing himself. It was then that House had blurted out about Wilson sleeping with him.

If Amber hadn't given him the heart, who had?

HWHWHWHWHWHW

Greg House had made many mistakes in his life, but that didn't stop him from making more. He sat in his office, combining the skills of bouncing and twirling his cane. He was a true multi-thinker though because he was also thinking about his recent encounters with his friend, Wilson.

Wilson now thought that House was going to give the recent bliss between the CB and Wilson a chance. Why then had he left the heart on Wilson's desk? He told himself that the real reason was it would drive his friend nuts, just as those flowers from Cuddy had done.

He briefly smiled at the memory of the younger man romping through the hospital, trying to avoid the presence of Cuddy. Then his tired face fell as he realized that this threat was much more serious. Wilson seemed to actually like CB . . . what if they made it permanent? Wilson had married three times and had made House be his best man twice.

Standing up by leaning heavily on his cane, all House knew was that he didn't want to go through that pain again. It wouldn't hurt to keep Wilson on his toes with a few very subtle jabs, here and there.

Seeing Wilson wandering the hallways, House decided to launch another shot, but much more discretely. Wilson must be suspicious so this was not the time to come on like hammer to anvil.

"Well, what have you and Amber got on for the big day?"

For a moment the handsome younger man frowned between his eyes then replied, "Nothing, she's got late shift tonight. Would have got her some flowers, but she doesn't go in for that."

House gave a fake smile then launched rocket number one: how about comin' over tonight. I'll provide my wonderful larder of beer, and you can bring the food."

For a moment, Wilson seemed to be ready to accept then he hunched his shoulders shaking his head in the negative. "Sorry, I've got plans at home."

The very word, home, sent unseen shivers down House's body. Hell, the man is being domesticated as we speak.

"Oh come on, Wilson; mommy won't mind if you don't do your chores for once." Well, so much for subtlety.

Wilson stood up straighter than usual as if taking offense at the implication. Since when did he do that? "For your information, House. I'm giving a series of seminars on new cancer treatment techniques, and I need to get my material ready."

Wilson sounded so snobbish and hurt, at the same time, that House's mouth almost dropped open as he realized that this was information that he had not previously possessed about his friend. UUA (Up Until Amber), James Wilson's activities and life was an open book to House, now . . . now he was keeping secrets. Bet CB knew all about it.

As Wilson walked away, shaking his head slightly, the previous shiver roared once again through House's crippled body.

TWO MONTHS LATER

The inevitable had happened. CB was gone or, at least, if nobody had strangled her in the past twenty minutes, she was out of Wilson's life. Wilson had never said anything about the chocolate heart, but CB was gone so that made for an even exchange.

House leaned back on his sofa. He might even play the guitar that Wilson had gotten him in honor of his friend, getting out of the clutches of Miss Blood Drainer, without too much damage. It would be a few weeks and then they would be back to normal.

Wilson had seemed down when he had braved House's den to subtley tell him that he and CB had called it quits. It was obvious that Wilson was prepared to take an artillery barrage of sarcasm and 'I told you so', but none of that was forthcoming. House merely nodded and went on with his efforts to watch General Hospital.

House's ignoring the "good" news was like a billboard blaring out Rhett Butler's immortal words, "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn." Somewhere in the last two months, House had found a way to function without Wilson being there at every turn. Maybe Greg House really didn't care anymore.

James Wilson's shoulders slumped as he turned to walk out of House's office. Guess, he won't care if I get out of his life.

Lisa Cuddy watched Wilson exiting House's office. The younger man looked so down. I guess he's finally told House what he's planning.

HWHWHWHWHWHWHW

Later that evening Greg House was sitting on his sofa with his right leg propped up. His leg had been hurting all day, but the vicodin didn't really seem to help. His leg had really kicked up after Wilson's announcement about him and CB. It had been good news so why hadn't he bothered to acknowledge it? Wilson had looked so confused or something. What does he expect from me; after all he's the one who dumped me . . . for that . . . that bitch.

House heard a knock on the door. Sighing, he commanded the individual to enter. Having a pretty good idea who it was, House put a smirky smile on his face.

Wilson entered, still bundled in his overcoat. Even though it was April, spring had not sprung and the nights were chilly, but that wasn't in House's mind. His blue eyes were concentrated on the package being held in Wilson's hand.

"What'cha got there? It's a bit early for my birthday."

Wilson looked apprehensive and skittish. The man who had used banter to give back as good as he got from his irascible friend was not standing there. This was a man who had been standing against the wall for a long time and had finally made a decision.

Handing the plainly wrapped package to House, Wilson sighed, whispering. "I'm leaving tonight for Chicago to give that series of seminars on cancer techniques. I hadn't had a chance to tell you."

"Chicago? You didn't mention that before."

"Yeah, well, it took a little bit longer to arrange than I thought so Jeff thought it would be better to wait for a bit better weather. You know how Chicago is." The look on Wilson's face was unusual; it was almost as if he were begging House to understand about Chicago weather, and try to ignore the implications of Wilson venturing beyond the shores of the Delaware.

"Jeff?"

"Yeah, Jeff Driscoll. You remember him from Med School?"

House froze, at sneer appearing on his bearded face. "Of course, I remember the twit. He was always around you. Trying to use your smarts to get ahead. You still in contact with him?"

Wilson stiffened; he hadn't realized that House had taken that much notice of his relationship with Driscoll. After all they had just entered Med School and House was soon to graduate.

"Yeah, he's the one. Well, he's changed. He's now Dean of Medicine at one of the big Chicago hospitals, and he's arranged for me to go out and give a series of lectures."

House stared at his friend for a moment then nodded. Looking down at the still unopened package. "What's this then?"

If House had been looking, he would have noticed the obvious hesitation in his friend's face. For some reason, the moment of truth, seemed to be at hand, but Greg House was totally oblivious.

"It's something that's been hanging around my room for a long time (in a treasured place), but, after moving from Amber's, maybe that wasn't a smart remark, I was looking through my stuff and found it. Thought you might like it."

Blue eyes looked up into brown ones, but House said nothing. Grabbing the plain paper, he tore a huge piece from the side of the package. It was clear what was in it; it was a frame and a picture. Although House couldn't see the picture yet, he had a mind-numbing revelation at what he would see when he opened it farther.

His long fingers carefully removed all of the fragments of paper from around the frame. It was what he was expecting. Concentrating his stare on the framed photo and not Wilson, House carefully turned the picture so that it was no longer upside down. He stared. Old memories came to mind.

While Wilson was working on wife #2, the obnoxious Bonnie, and House was living with Stacy, the two friends had driven over to Atlantic City to do some gambling. Harrah's and Bally's were relatively new then and they had had a great time. The picture showed the two men, slightly inebriated, standing out in front of Harrah's after winning a jackpot of $250.00! It wasn't much but just being together had made them feel great. They had started messing around and the picture, taken by one of those boardwalk-type photographers, had caught them sticking their tongues out at each other. What a moment that had been: no pain, just freedom, and each other.

House continued to stare at the photo, lost in the memories. They had each gotten a photo; he didn't even know that Wilson had kept his, all these years. His mind and body were in turmoil. Within days of this picture being taken, House had suffered his infarction. Wilson had left his wife to rush to his friend's side, and the happiness of that day was lost forever.

House's sad blue eyes looked up at his friend who was hovering nervously nearby. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

Wilson's heart dropped; he didn't actually understand why he had thought that giving House the photo would make a difference, but he felt he had to try. Wilson would be in Chicago for weeks; he wanted House to have something . . . something which might mend the breach between them.

A gleam entered the blue eyes as if an epiphany had just entered the door. "I have to wonder why you associate this photo with your going to see Jeff Driscoll. You plannin' on sleepin' with him while you're out there; you know, like you did in Med School?"

Wilson stood there speechless. How could House possibly know that; he had graduated and was at Hopkins when Wilson had gotten together with Driscoll? Wilson started to say something when suddenly the framed picture went flying across the room, the glass smashing into small shards.

Wilson turned to stare at the shattered memories. "What'd ya do that for?"

"ANSWER my question, are you going out there to sleep with Driscoll?"

In that moment, James Wilson rebelled; he scarcely knew what he was saying, but he did know that he wanted to hurt Greg House as much as the man had just destroyed the picture that had reminded him of so much happiness. "Of course . . . without Amber, I'm not getting' enough."

Rage filled House; a sheet of red inundated his vision. Without thought, he blurted out, "Is that why your brother left? He found out about you and Driscoll, and he couldn't stand havin' a fag for a brother?"

Silence dropped over the room like a shroud. Wilson's mind went blank and then numb, finally he managed to make his limbs move so that he could head towards the door. As he reached the door, he turned to stare at the man that he had loved since Med School. In a voice hoarse with emotion, he whispered, "No, you got it wrong, House. My brother didn't leave because of Driscoll; he found out about . . . you."

James Wilson turned and walked out of the apartment, without another word.

End of part 1