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sick_wilson2012-04-30 08:30 am
sydpenguinbunny.livejournal.com) wrote in sick_wilson2012-04-30 08:30 am
Entry tags:
Us Against the World, Chapter 18
Title: Us Against the World
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sydpenguinbunny
Rating: R
Pairing: Wilson/Amber, House/Cuddy, Wilson/House, Tritter/OC, maybe House/Amber
Spoilers: Up until the end of Season 6.
Summary: Wilson is kidnapped by someone who holds a grudge against House. House is told to come out and play, and Amber refuses to stand by. Time is running out...
Chapter One: A Shot in the Dark
Chapter Two: Empty Chairs at Empty Tables
Chapter Three: Photograph
Chapter Four: Private Eye
Chapter Five: Purity
Chapter Six: Nowhere to Go
Chapter Seven: Nightmare
Chapter Eight: Throwing It All Away
Chapter Nine: Anyone for Tennis?
Chapter Ten: Turn the Page
Chapter Eleven: The Game
Chapter Twelve: Domino
Chapter Thirteen: Runaway
Chapter Fourteen: Dreaming While You Sleep
Chapter Fifteen: Mama
Chapter Sixteen: Handle This
Chapter Seventeen: If I Needed Someone
Chapter Eighteen: Only You
“Only you can make this world seem right
Only you can make the darkness bright…”
House and Amber had been sitting in House’s apartment for twenty-five minutes, and neither had said a word yet. They were just looking at each other, then looking away, then each independently thinking about Wilson, worrying about Wilson, wishing Wilson were safe and there to tell the two of them to either talk to each other or go home. He would smile that smile of his and humor them, listen to whatever they had done to piss one another off this time, and then he would work it out, much as he would probably later say he regretted doing so.
“When do you think they’ll find him?” Amber asked. She purposely didn’t ask, will they find him? Because they would, one way or another, the question was, how would they find him? Dead in a ditch somewhere? Alive, but just barely, utterly broken, begging to be put down like a few patients she’d seen in her old E.R. rotations? Begging Amber to put his bullet in his brain because Lucas, whoever he was, had damaged him beyond repair? Could she even hold out hope that they – and who was they, actually? – would find him not that much worse for wear, a little shaken but at his core, undeniably still Wilson?
“I don’t know,” House replied. He was thinking the same thing. He was filled with regrets for every time he’d put Wilson through the ringer, every time Wilson had to solve House’s problems, every prank he’d played to try and disrupt his friend’s life. But through all of that, House had to believe that Wilson knew he cared, knew he trusted the oncologist like no one else. He wished he could say it, speak it aloud, but he couldn’t get his tongue to work. He just wanted Wilson back, wanted things to go back to normal. He was sure he could promise to be better but, House thought to himself, people don’t really change. Back to normal would be just that – back to normal.
“We’ll figure this out, House,” Amber said firmly. “We always do. You always do.”
“There are people on it,” House countered. “Tritter and his… people, will figure it out.”
“We’ll figure it out. It’ll come to us. That asshole Lucas wants something. He’ll tell us and then we’ll outwit him. Use it against him.” Amber’s voice rose with each new word. She was gaining confidence. It was just a fucked up power-play. They could thwart him. They were smarter.
Just because my heart feels like it’s been tossed into a blender, Amber reasoned, doesn’t mean that I have to act as if my brain’s been thrown in one.
Reason over emotion. That was the way she had always been. It was close to impossible when she was so close to the situation, but… Close to impossible and actually impossible are two different things. We’ll make it through. And when it’s over I’ll wrap my arms around Wilson and box his ears for scaring me. And never, never let him go again.
***
Cuddy tried not to let it bother her. House and Amber were allowed to spend time together, it was reasonable for them to spend time together, considering the circumstances. They were, after all, the two people who Wilson had loved most.
She bit her lip, caught herself referring to him in past tense and wanted to slap herself. No, she couldn’t do that. Couldn’t write him off like he was dead already. A different House might have recommended it, though – if you act like he’s dead then it’ll be a pleasant surprise if he turns up alive.
She was lying across the bed, had been for the last forty-five minutes, trying in vain to convert her tossing and turning into actual sleeping. She felt like the Princess in that goddamned story, only being kept awake by another horrific crisis rather than a tiny pea. She considered counting sheep. She needed to rest, but who could sleep with this hanging overhead?
Wilson, who knew where Wilson was and what he was doing? Or, on a scarier note, what was maybe being done to him? Her stomach ached, tore, and she tried not to channel any visions of what could have happened, what could be happening while she lay there trying to sleep.
House kept floating in and out of her mind, sticking there, nagging there, a question she couldn’t answer. Their relationship, new as it was, was awkward enough without horrible tragedies hitting them right off the bat. She didn’t think it was the kind of thing that made a relationship stronger. It was like those tales of all the couples who couldn’t stay together after losing a child. It was like that.
But that didn’t mean that it was completely unreasonable for her to wish that House would just talk to her. Instead, he kept going off with Amber. It wasn’t as if Cuddy didn’t understand what Wilson’s disappearance meant. He was acting like Amber was the only other person to know the man!
As ridiculous as it was to feel jealous – jealous! – at a time like this, she couldn’t deny that the feeling was there.
She also couldn’t help but feel that House, and maybe Amber, knew more about the situation than they were telling. But what reason could they possibly have to shut her out? The only times House seemed to omit things were when he wanted to get away with something, or he wanted to hide an emotional reaction.
Or when he wanted to protect her.
But from what?
Weren’t three heads better than two?
If all of them worked together, couldn’t they save Wilson, bring him home, make him safe? Wasn’t that what all of them wanted? Or had it become a secret club, the Save Wilson Club, and no one had invited her?
She could feel him slipping through her fingers. Curse Amber, curse things whole horrible situation!
She sat up in her bed and rubbed at her eyes.
She wouldn’t sleep tonight.
* The Platters, “Only You”. Single. 1955.
Author:
sydpenguinbunnyRating: R
Pairing: Wilson/Amber, House/Cuddy, Wilson/House, Tritter/OC, maybe House/Amber
Spoilers: Up until the end of Season 6.
Summary: Wilson is kidnapped by someone who holds a grudge against House. House is told to come out and play, and Amber refuses to stand by. Time is running out...
Chapter One: A Shot in the Dark
Chapter Two: Empty Chairs at Empty Tables
Chapter Three: Photograph
Chapter Four: Private Eye
Chapter Five: Purity
Chapter Six: Nowhere to Go
Chapter Seven: Nightmare
Chapter Eight: Throwing It All Away
Chapter Nine: Anyone for Tennis?
Chapter Ten: Turn the Page
Chapter Eleven: The Game
Chapter Twelve: Domino
Chapter Thirteen: Runaway
Chapter Fourteen: Dreaming While You Sleep
Chapter Fifteen: Mama
Chapter Sixteen: Handle This
Chapter Seventeen: If I Needed Someone
Chapter Eighteen: Only You
“Only you can make this world seem right
Only you can make the darkness bright…”
House and Amber had been sitting in House’s apartment for twenty-five minutes, and neither had said a word yet. They were just looking at each other, then looking away, then each independently thinking about Wilson, worrying about Wilson, wishing Wilson were safe and there to tell the two of them to either talk to each other or go home. He would smile that smile of his and humor them, listen to whatever they had done to piss one another off this time, and then he would work it out, much as he would probably later say he regretted doing so.
“When do you think they’ll find him?” Amber asked. She purposely didn’t ask, will they find him? Because they would, one way or another, the question was, how would they find him? Dead in a ditch somewhere? Alive, but just barely, utterly broken, begging to be put down like a few patients she’d seen in her old E.R. rotations? Begging Amber to put his bullet in his brain because Lucas, whoever he was, had damaged him beyond repair? Could she even hold out hope that they – and who was they, actually? – would find him not that much worse for wear, a little shaken but at his core, undeniably still Wilson?
“I don’t know,” House replied. He was thinking the same thing. He was filled with regrets for every time he’d put Wilson through the ringer, every time Wilson had to solve House’s problems, every prank he’d played to try and disrupt his friend’s life. But through all of that, House had to believe that Wilson knew he cared, knew he trusted the oncologist like no one else. He wished he could say it, speak it aloud, but he couldn’t get his tongue to work. He just wanted Wilson back, wanted things to go back to normal. He was sure he could promise to be better but, House thought to himself, people don’t really change. Back to normal would be just that – back to normal.
“We’ll figure this out, House,” Amber said firmly. “We always do. You always do.”
“There are people on it,” House countered. “Tritter and his… people, will figure it out.”
“We’ll figure it out. It’ll come to us. That asshole Lucas wants something. He’ll tell us and then we’ll outwit him. Use it against him.” Amber’s voice rose with each new word. She was gaining confidence. It was just a fucked up power-play. They could thwart him. They were smarter.
Just because my heart feels like it’s been tossed into a blender, Amber reasoned, doesn’t mean that I have to act as if my brain’s been thrown in one.
Reason over emotion. That was the way she had always been. It was close to impossible when she was so close to the situation, but… Close to impossible and actually impossible are two different things. We’ll make it through. And when it’s over I’ll wrap my arms around Wilson and box his ears for scaring me. And never, never let him go again.
***
Cuddy tried not to let it bother her. House and Amber were allowed to spend time together, it was reasonable for them to spend time together, considering the circumstances. They were, after all, the two people who Wilson had loved most.
She bit her lip, caught herself referring to him in past tense and wanted to slap herself. No, she couldn’t do that. Couldn’t write him off like he was dead already. A different House might have recommended it, though – if you act like he’s dead then it’ll be a pleasant surprise if he turns up alive.
She was lying across the bed, had been for the last forty-five minutes, trying in vain to convert her tossing and turning into actual sleeping. She felt like the Princess in that goddamned story, only being kept awake by another horrific crisis rather than a tiny pea. She considered counting sheep. She needed to rest, but who could sleep with this hanging overhead?
Wilson, who knew where Wilson was and what he was doing? Or, on a scarier note, what was maybe being done to him? Her stomach ached, tore, and she tried not to channel any visions of what could have happened, what could be happening while she lay there trying to sleep.
House kept floating in and out of her mind, sticking there, nagging there, a question she couldn’t answer. Their relationship, new as it was, was awkward enough without horrible tragedies hitting them right off the bat. She didn’t think it was the kind of thing that made a relationship stronger. It was like those tales of all the couples who couldn’t stay together after losing a child. It was like that.
But that didn’t mean that it was completely unreasonable for her to wish that House would just talk to her. Instead, he kept going off with Amber. It wasn’t as if Cuddy didn’t understand what Wilson’s disappearance meant. He was acting like Amber was the only other person to know the man!
As ridiculous as it was to feel jealous – jealous! – at a time like this, she couldn’t deny that the feeling was there.
She also couldn’t help but feel that House, and maybe Amber, knew more about the situation than they were telling. But what reason could they possibly have to shut her out? The only times House seemed to omit things were when he wanted to get away with something, or he wanted to hide an emotional reaction.
Or when he wanted to protect her.
But from what?
Weren’t three heads better than two?
If all of them worked together, couldn’t they save Wilson, bring him home, make him safe? Wasn’t that what all of them wanted? Or had it become a secret club, the Save Wilson Club, and no one had invited her?
She could feel him slipping through her fingers. Curse Amber, curse things whole horrible situation!
She sat up in her bed and rubbed at her eyes.
She wouldn’t sleep tonight.
* The Platters, “Only You”. Single. 1955.
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