Dark Redux, Part 1.6 -- The Socratic Method

[darkdreamer]

Hi, guys :) Here's the next update in this series, which is quickly becoming my "baby" fic :P heheh... Right now this is my favorite to work on, and I hope you guys are enjoying it, too. In this chapter the darkness is a bit more subtle, but things are still progressing on their gradual downward incline... :-S... hope you enjoy :)

*hugs*
DoS


Title: Dark Redux
Episode: 1.6 -- The Socratic Method
Beta: misanthropicobs
Disclaimer: House, Wilson, and all other characters/ideas taken from the show are not my own, and I'm making no profit from the writing of this fiction -- just for fun, I promise. :P (Some dialogue this chapter taken directly from the episode.)
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: In this particular 'verse, I've changed one thing about the canon timeline. At the beginning of the story, when House and Wilson first get together, Wilson is already recently divorced from Julie.
Story Warnings: slash, dark Wilson eventually -- specific warnings for each chapter as necessary
Chapter Warnings: possessive!wilson, mild sexuality
Story Summary: A darker version of how canon might have gone, if House and Wilson had entered into a relationship from the start -- and if that relationship took a gradually dark, disturbing turn.
Chapter Summary: It's House's birthday -- but no one seems to have noticed...

 

Wilson leaned casually against the wall in the hallway outside Lucy Palmiero's hospital room, waiting with House's team, subtly glancing around the corner every few minutes at the rather startling and intriguing sight of House, actually engaged in conversation with a patient.

Of course, that patient was a raving schizophrenic whose conversation hadn't made a shred of sense since she had been admitted.

Throughout the day, House's interest in this particular patient had been a cause for speculation among his team, as they wondered what it was about the murky workings of Lucy's mind that drew House's fascination so completely.

"It just doesn't make sense," Foreman remarked, shaking his head in confusion. "The man thrives on rationality. It's all that's important to him. What does he find so interesting about the mental ramblings of a crazy person?"

Chase shrugged, smiling slightly as he speculated on a possible answer. "It's a mystery. Maybe that's it. He's fascinated because in all his rationality, the one thing he can't figure out... is a mind that's completely irrational."

Wilson was silent, smiling thoughtfully as he listened to their conversation without interjecting his own opinions. He savored the sense of quiet respect and admiration he seemed to get from House's fellows, as possibly the one person in all the world who really knew House, really understood what made him tick.

And he had no intention of sharing that information with any of them any time soon.

As Chase and Foreman discussed the possible explanations for House's unusual behavior, Cameron kept stealing uncertain glances in Wilson's direction. He avoided direct eye contact with her, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes in irritation.

He really did not like Cameron.

Over the past few weeks, Wilson had noticed that the pretty young immunologist seemed to be developing quite an interest in House, and in much more than a professional sense. He noticed that she watched House a little too closely -- was a little too aware of his movements, reactions -- anticipated his needs and requests a little too easily -- for his comfort.

As Cameron leaned casually on the wall beside him, Wilson stifled the deep sigh of resignation that rose in his throat as he realized that she intended to talk to him -- perhaps even confide in him -- and most likely, about House.

"Hey," she said in a quiet, self-conscious voice, giving him a nervous little half-smile.

Wilson forced his trademark warm, understanding smile to his lips as he met her eyes. "Hey," he replied with a nod. "What's up?"

"I just... wanted to talk to you about something," Cameron said in a hesitant voice, staring down at her feet as she swallowed hard. "I'm... sure you know this. The others don't have a clue, but... it's House's birthday today."

Wilson let out a low laugh, shaking his head. "Don't ask me what he likes," he advised ruefully. "I had a hard enough time finding him something from me."

"Oh, no." Cameron shook her head, eyes wide as her pretty lips twisted into a grimace. "No, I wouldn't... wouldn't get him a present. Not after..." Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head again, looking away. "No, I'm... not even sure I should mention it."

Wilson frowned, masking his curiosity with concern. "Why not?"

"Well, see... for Christmas, I got him a gift, and... I didn't think much of it. I mean, a lot of people get their bosses Christmas gifts, right?"

Wilson nodded his kind encouragement, not letting on that he saw right through her rationalizations as to why she had been most likely the only one of House's fellows to get him a Christmas gift.

"Except... he gave it back."

Wilson's features fell into an expression of schooled sympathy, perfected through many years of frequent use, as he shook his head sadly and reached out an understanding hand to touch her arm.

"I'm sorry. Sometimes he just... he just doesn't think about... how other people feel..." Wilson laughed apologetically as he added, "And that's the understatement of the century, but... I'm sure he didn't mean to hurt your feelings, he just... just doesn't like to have a big deal made about... birthdays, Christmas... anything that singles him out for attention. It just... makes him feel uncomfortable. It's nothing personal, that's just how he is with everyone."

Cameron studied his expression for a long moment, considering his words, before observing quietly, holding his gaze in a silent question. "Except you."

Wilson allowed a tiny glimmer of a smile to play around the corners of his mouth as he nodded and admitted, "Except me."

Cameron sighed, looking down at the floor again, her shoulders slumping with resigned acceptance. Wilson hoped that the conversation was over, but a moment later she opened her mouth to speak again.

Thankfully, at that moment, House came around the corner, and immediately everyone's attention was focused on him, eager to know about his strange visit with his current patient.

"Learn anything from the human connection?" Wilson asked, standing up straight and regarding House with interest.

House began to explain about the things he had discovered during his conversation with Lucy, and Wilson stayed and listened for a few minutes. Once he was satisfied that House was making progress on his case, Wilson excused himself and made his way back down the hall toward his own office.

As he was leaving, Lucy's son arrived with House's favorite sandwich, which he had somehow conned the kid into getting for him.

"No pickles, and it's cold now." The kid apologized as he handed over the sandwich.

Just before he got out of earshot, Wilson heard Cameron's confidently knowing reply.

"If it's a reuben, that's the way he likes it."

Quietly fuming, Wilson quickened his pace, his mood darkening with irritation at Cameron's obsession with his lover.

She'd better listen to me, and she'd better back off -- and she will, if the little bitch knows what's good for her.

**************************

Cuddy stood in the hallway outside House's empty office, glancing furtively up and down the hall for any sign of House... and wondering at how she could feel such a need for secrecy while within the walls of her own professional realm. However, as she found her eyes drawn down the hall toward Wilson's office, Cuddy remembered why it was that she felt the need to conduct this particular small mission in complete privacy.

He's horribly possessive of House lately. I wonder if something is going on between them... something more than friendship...

Shaking her head to clear her mind of the strangely intriguing thought, trying to focus on the matter at hand, Cuddy stepped swiftly into House's office, walking to the desk and setting the file in her hand down on it. A brief search revealed a post-it pad shoved into the back of a drawer, and she scrawled a hurried note on one sheet, sticking it to the top of the folder.

House --

URGENT!

Read Immediately!

P.S. For your eyes only ;)

With a smile on her face, satisfied that her mission was complete, Cuddy made her way back out of House's office and down the hall toward the clinic -- never once thinking to look out the window and across to the one opening into Wilson's office.

******************************

Wilson frowned as he watched Cuddy write the note, wondering immediately at what it might say, and whether or not it was work-related.

Probably not, he decided grimly. She's such a slut. Dresses like one, acts like one... and probably thinks she can sneak this past me and make a move on House behind my back...

Within moments, he was in House's office, and immediately found the light blue file folder with the post-it note attached. Ignoring the note's warning, he opened the file, to find that his suspicions had been more or less accurate, and the contents were not in any way related to hospital business.

The file was empty except for a single folded piece of paper.

A birthday card.

Wilson considered for a moment, noting that the card in and of itself seemed innocent enough. Making a quick decision, Wilson closed the file again and picked it up, carrying it under his arm back to his own office. Sitting down at his desk, he pushed the power button on the machine he kept under his desk.

He smiled to himself, humming a little as he fed the folder, card still inside, into the shredder, and listened to the satisfying munching sound it made.

*****************************

As he prepared to go home at the end of the day, House found himself feeling unusually depressed.

He had solved his case, cured his patient – not only of the disease for which he had intended to treat her, but also of the unknown ailment that was causing her schizophrenic symptoms – and done the right thing for the woman and her son, despite the fact that the boy now hated him and blamed him for his brief stint in foster care.

It’s not like it matters, he reminded himself as he made his way wearily toward the exit. Never going to see them again. One kid’s opinion doesn’t matter.

Still, the boy’s anger in the place of what should have been gratitude seemed to be nothng more than the icing on the proverbial cake.

And what an unfortunate choice of proverbs that happens to be.

House told himself – several times, and very emphatically – that he didn’t care that no one had so much as mentioned his birthday. Literally dozens of other birthdays – most of his other birthdays – had passed with little or no acknowledgement from anyone; and yet, somehow, it never failed to sting a little. Not one single person had mentioned his birthday – not even Wilson.

But it didn’t matter, he reminded himself. It didn’t matter at all.

House walked past Wilson’s door, glancing in, hoping that they could spend some time together that evening – but Wilson had already left for the day. Apparently, Wilson really had completely forgotten that the day held any particular significance; and if he didn’t remember, House had no intention of reminding him. It was not out of any sense of spite or petulance, but rather just that if House had to tell him, any effort Wilson made would be meaningless, anyway.

The vague sense of disappointment he felt grew heavier with every step as he made his way toward the hospital exit. He made the drive home in silence, not bothering to turn on the radio as was his usual custom, feeling a sharp, empty ache building in his chest as he tried to focus on anything but how lonely it felt to have his birthday utterly and completely ignored.

By the time he reached his apartment and stepped through the doorway into the darkened living room, House had resigned himself to another evening spent alone in front of the television. He didn’t bother to turn on the light as he headed for the kitchen, and the waiting six pack that would help to dull his senses and make the lonely evening pass more quickly.

Suddenly, he felt a strong hand snake around his waist, jerking him backward, off balance, as another hand closed over his eyes. House’s heart lurched in a moment of panic, before a familiar voice behind him – low and warm and hushed with intimate mystery – caused his fears to dissipate into amused curiosity.

“Don’t move,” Wilson ordered softly. “Don’t pull away. Just – let me lead you.”

“Into what?” House asked in an exaggeratedly doubtful tone.

“Shhh,” Wilson whispered, and House felt his breath against his throat, a moment before soft lips caressed the sensitive skin in a light, tender kiss. “Just trust me.”

House allowed Wilson to lead him, slowly and a little awkwardly, across the living room and into the kitchen. Once they had reached the center of the room, Wilson stopped walking, taking a moment to be sure House’s footing was steady, but not yet removing his hand from House’s eyes.

“Keep your eyes closed,” Wilson told him softly. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

House let out a put-upon sigh, but he was smiling as he conceded with false reluctance. “Okay.”

Wilson’s hands were removed from his body, and House heard a strangely familiar hissing sound, then smelled the pleasantly acrid scent of wood smoke – combined with other, indiscernible but pleasant odors that gradually began to waft upward to fill his nostrils. Then, Wilson’s warm, strong hands were on his waist, protective and steadying, as Wilson’s voice spoke softly into his ear from behind him, in a tone of restrained but eager anticipation.

“Okay. Open your eyes.”

House opened his eyes, blinking a few times to allow them to adjust to the dim lighting of the room. The overhead lights, every lamp in the house, was turned off; and the only illumination came from several elegant taper candles in silver holders arranged on the table. Surrounding the candles, an elegant and tempting meal had been laid out, as elaborate and impressive as House would have expected Wilson’s handiwork to be.

On the far end of the table was a homemade birthday cake, which House knew without checking was his favorite – Wilson’s famous banana nut cake with sweet cream cheese icing.

Arranged on the plate directly in front of him was a small box covered in black velvet.

As House stared at the elaborate scene Wilson had prepared for him, jaw slightly agape in surprise and wonder, he felt Wilson’s lips on the back of his neck, edging forward along his jaw, as Wilson’s arms slid around him, pulling his body back against Wilson’s chest.

“Happy birthday,” Wilson whispered in his ear, raising one hand to turn House’s face toward his and capture his mouth in a deep, searching kiss.

House turned in Wilson’s embrace, returning it and the kiss fervently, until when they finally parted, both were breathless. House felt the ache in his chest intensifying – though this time for a very different reason. He kept his eyes closed, mostly to keep back the suspicious moisture he felt burning at the backs of his eyelids, his head bowed, forehead resting against Wilson’s as he tried to catch his breath.

Finally, he confessed in a soft voice filled with quiet awe, and far more vulnerable than House usually allowed his voice to sound. “I… didn’t think you remembered. No one… no one else did…”

Wilson smiled, raising a hand to tenderly cup House’s cheek, his other arm around House’s waist drawing him closer.

“I couldn’t forget,” he murmured. “I love you too much. No one else could ever love you as much as I do, House.” The words were a low, fervent declaration of devotion, as Wilson’s lips drifted closer to House’s again. “I love you… more than anyone else… could ever imagine. And I’m going to spend… the rest of my life… making sure that you have all the things that you deserve.”

Touched by Wilson’s heartfelt promise, and the tender affection in his touch, his eyes, his voice, mirroring the gesture laid out before him on his kitchen table, House could not find words to respond. It was so much more than he had expected – more than he deserved. Filled with a sense of overwhelming gratitude and affection that he wasn’t sure he knew how to express, all House could do was to draw Wilson in for another deep, lingering kiss, as he tried his best to return Wilson’s sentiments, without use of the words which came to him with such difficulty.

TBC...

/>
Foreclosure Lawyer

Comments

[jackssilverwolf.livejournal.com]

I hate Cameron too, Wilson. This was so chilling, the way Wilson made it seem like no one remembered House's birthday except him. Separating him even more from everyone. I say this all the time, but damn I love your fics!

[dreamsofspike.livejournal.com]

thanx, love, glad you enjoyed it :) *Hugs* the next one is up now...

and yeah, wilson is gradually isolating house completely, making him feel that wilson is the only one who will be there for him... which will only make it harder for house to break free later...