Hey, guys :)
Here's the next update of Used, hope you enjoy it :)
*hugs*
DoS
Title: Used
Beta:
misanthropicobs Rating: R
Pairing: House/Wilson/Cuddy friendship, slight Wilson/OFC
Warnings: implied and explicit non-con, violence and non-con of a flashback/memory sort, mild language, general angst and trauma and darkness
Summary: One night leaving the hospital, a violent attack leaves House devastated and broken. In the aftermath, Wilson and Cuddy struggle to find a way to help him heal -- while House fights just to find a way to survive.
Chapter 69
Numb
Within the hour, House and Wilson were on their way back to the States, in a private FBI jet, accompanied by the FBI officer who had handled the kidnapping case. There were magazines available, and built in DVD players in the backs of the seats in front of them, but neither was very interested in such entertainment.
Wilson wished that they could be alone – or at the very least, that the FBI agent might have the perception to seat himself at a distance from them, to allow them to talk. Unfortunately, the agent seemed oblivious to any such signals Wilson might have been giving off, and remained in the seat directly across the aisle from House and Wilson.
Wilson knew that he had not yet heard the whole story of the events leading to Tritter’s death; and he also knew that he was not likely to – not as long as there was a chance of anyone else overhearing it.
Of course, House did not seem all that inclined toward conversation, anyway.
A worried frown creased Wilson’s brow as he glanced at House, who didn’t notice his attention, his haunted blue eyes staring out the window at the clouds drifting by beneath them. He had barely said two words since they had met with the FBI agent and headed toward the plane. He was distant, preoccupied, and almost completely silent during most of the flight.
“House?” Wilson ventured at last in a soft, searching voice. “You okay?”
House didn’t look at him, didn’t seem to hear him at all.
“House,” Wilson tried again, a little louder.
House finally looked at him, slightly startled, clearly distracted. “Yeah?” The single word response was barely audible.
“You okay?”
House didn’t really consider the question as he immediately looked out the window again, his arms crossed over his chest in an instinctive gesture of self-defense. He didn’t speak, simply nodded once in clear dismissal of Wilson’s concerns.
Wilson didn’t believe him for a moment.
Every now and then during the six hour flight, House would drift off to sleep, and Wilson was reminded that he was still in a state of sheer exhaustion, not having had the opportunity for more than a few hours rest since before his abduction. However, despite his obvious weariness, House would inevitably awaken after only a few minutes of sleep, sitting up with a startled cry or a choked moan of muffled panic.
The first time, Wilson tried to reassure House, reaching out a gentle, steadying hand to rest on his knee.
“It’s all right,” he murmured. “It’s okay, House… it’s over.”
House just glared at him in stubborn defiance, jerking his leg out of Wilson’s reach and glancing self-consciously past his friend to see if the stranger from the FBI had noticed his rather embarrassing reaction. The FBI agent simply stared straight ahead, not acknowledging the men in his charge. If he had noticed House’s startled, fearful actions, he wisely did not allow it to show.
“I’m fine.”
House snapped at Wilson in a low voice, barely over a whisper, physically withdrawing closer to the window and staring out it again, his forehead resting against the cool, smooth surface of the glass.
Within moments, he was asleep again.
Minutes later, he was once again awakening in a panic.
Having learned from his mistakes, Wilson said not a word… just discreetly slipped a hand across the space that separated them, resting it lightly over House’s trembling fingers. House looked up at him sharply, uncertainty in his eyes, and Wilson could clearly see his mental debate, as he tried to decide whether or not to allow the comforting contact.
In the end, he did – and the dreams were fewer and farther between for it.
*****************************
By the time they reached the apartment they shared, Wilson was longing for the comfort of his own bed, and knew that House had to be in desperate need of a good rest as well. He was trying to remember if he had any sleep aids on hand – thinking that a dose might be in order to keep House’s nightmares at bay long enough to allow him to get a full night’s sleep – when House stopped short in the doorway in front of him.
Wilson frowned in momentary confusion, which swiftly faded into horrified understanding, as he followed House’s haunted, stricken gaze. Wilson’s ordeal had lasted only a few short hours, most of which he had spent unconscious – and yet even he could not look at the familiar living room without seeing in his mind the disturbing image of Tritter, pacing the room and snarling threats, delivering vicious blows to his helpless, terrified friend as he knelt on the floor at his feet.
“We don’t have to stay here,” Wilson softly assured House, reaching out a cautiously supportive hand to rest on his shoulder. “We can stay in a hotel for the night if you’d rather. And… if you want to find another place… we can do that right away. Tomorrow, if you want.”
House was silent for a long moment, shaking his head slowly, his stricken gaze still focused on the living room before him. Finally, he spoke in a low, hoarse voice that was unsettlingly calm.
“I won’t… won’t let him take this from me, too. Not when he’s… he’s not even alive to… to…”
House’s voice trailed off, and he just shook his head again, moving with slow, painful, but purposeful steps toward his own bedroom. Wilson watched him, uncertain as to whether he should follow, or simply let him go. These days, it was so hard to tell when House needed his space, and when he needed the supportive, reassuring presence of his friend.
The ringing of his cell phone settled the question for him.
When he hung up the phone, Wilson made his way to House’s bedroom door, which was slightly ajar. He knocked softly, then opened it a little more, peering tentatively around the door. House was still dressed, sitting on the side of the bed with his back to Wilson, staring into space at nothing in particular with a blank, vacant expression.
“House… that was Cuddy,” Wilson informed him gently. “They released her from the hospital a few hours ago. She wants to come over.” A soft, apologetic smile formed on his lips, and he shrugged as House slowly turned his head to meet his eyes. “She just wants to make sure you’re okay.”
House’s expression betrayed no emotion, as he nodded slowly, once. “Okay,” he whispered, the word barely audible as he turned his head toward the wall again.
“You sure?” Wilson’s head tilted slightly as he studied his friend’s too-straight posture, the rigid set of his back and the visible tension in every muscle as he sat there, very still and silent. “If you’re too tired, I can tell her to wait.”
House shook his head without looking at Wilson – then stopped, changing his mind. He looked up at Wilson uncertainly, his voice soft and tentative. “Could you?” he replied at last, unnaturally quiet. “I want to see her, but… but I’m… so tired. If she could just… wait until tomorrow...”
“Of course.” Wilson answered immediately in a voice of understanding, nodding as he turned to go.
“How’d you get released before her?”
Wilson stopped, turning to face House again at the soft, curious question. House was looking up at him, expectation but nothing more visible in his piercing blue gaze.
A rueful smile crossed Wilson’s lips as he admitted, “I didn’t. I signed myself out. Against medical advice.”
House’s mouth twitched slightly, betraying some flash of emotion, but Wilson couldn’t quite identify it. After a moment of silence, however, House’s words identified it for him. In a soft voice, thick and hoarse with repressed emotion, House murmured two words that tore at Wilson’s heart with the wonder they held – as if the idea of Wilson’s taking such reckless actions on his behalf was unbelievable, awe-inspiring.
“Thank you.”
In that moment, Wilson wanted nothing more than to go to House and put his arms around him; but he wasn’t sure how such a gesture would be received. Instead, he just walked slowly around the bed, resting a hand on House’s shoulder until he looked reluctantly up at him, a silent question in his eyes.
Wilson’s dark eyes welled with tears as he finally spoke in a hushed, awed voice. “No, House. Thank you. You… didn’t have to do what you did… didn’t have to risk your life for us. But you did.”
House lowered his eyes, looking away, uncomfortable with Wilson’s praise. Unwilling to either allow him to avoid it, or to physically insist that he face him, Wilson dropped to his knees on the floor in front of House, looking up at him to resume eye contact as he rested a reassuring hand on House’s leg. House reluctantly met his eyes again, a wary, reserved expression in his own.
“He would have killed us, House. You stopped him. For good.”
House gave a half-hearted little shrug. “Didn’t mean to,” he muttered. “Accident. Not like I did anything all that heroic.”
“Going with him wasn’t an accident,” Wilson pointed out softly. “Maybe killing him was, but… but you chose to give yourself up in our places, House. You placed yourself in harm’s way to protect us. And when it came right down to it… no matter how it happened… you’ve made certain that he’ll never hurt anyone else again.”
House was silent, a convulsive swallow visible in his throat, a brief, almost imperceptible flinch betraying his unconscious reaction to Wilson’s words. Wilson frowned slightly, taking in his subtle reaction, mentally weighing the situation, trying to decide whether or not to pursue the questions that filled his mind.
“House,” he ventured at last. “How… how did it happen, again?”
Instantly, visibly, House closed off to him.
He pulled away from Wilson’s hand on his leg, his eyes averted. “I already told you,” he insisted with a quiet stubbornness in his voice. “I don’t really want to talk about this again. I already told you how it happened…”
“Not really,” Wilson persisted cautiously. “I mean… you told me it was self-defense… and that you didn’t mean to kill him so much as… castrate him… but…”
“I don’t want to talk about this,” House repeated, agitation rising in his trembling voice. “I already told you the story…”
“Not the whole story,” Wilson stated with quiet certainty. “I know there’s more to what happened, that I haven’t heard yet…”
“If that’s true…” House looked up at Wilson sharply, suddenly meeting his eyes with a stubborn, defiant gaze. “… then you never will. It’s my business.” He paused, maintaining eye contact, his expression closing off, becoming carefully guarded again, as his voice softened to a calm, quiet tone to match it. “I’m tired,” he stated. “Please leave me alone so I can get some sleep.”
Wilson was quiet for a moment, torn. He knew House was hiding something, wanted to know what it was – but he wasn’t really sure that he had the right to know.
He’s got the right to his secrets. Some things he’s seen should never have to be brought to light again, if he doesn’t want them to be.
Wilson finally nodded in acceptance and walked out, closing the door quietly behind him.
no subject
Date: 2009-02-13 04:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-17 10:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-13 04:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-17 10:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-13 05:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-17 10:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-13 05:37 pm (UTC)69 dude!
no subject
Date: 2009-02-13 06:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-17 10:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-14 08:50 am (UTC)thanx, love :)
*hugs*
no subject
Date: 2009-02-13 06:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-17 10:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-13 10:48 pm (UTC)More comments later!
no subject
Date: 2009-02-17 08:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-14 01:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-17 08:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-14 07:51 am (UTC)Damn Tritter...even gone he is f*ing things up!
no subject
Date: 2009-02-17 08:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-14 08:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-14 08:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-17 08:04 pm (UTC)and thanx so much... eventually i prolly will write more original stuff, but i haven't invented a character yet that i've fallen so fully in love with as the characters that already exist ;) hehe
*sigh*
no subject
Date: 2009-02-17 08:06 pm (UTC)thanx so much, hon, glad you liked this chapter... thanx so much for all your thoughtful comments throughout, i've enjoyed reading them so much :) *hugs* and congrats on catching up :D hehehe
do you read slash? ;) cause i've got another WIP....
hehehe *wink wink nudge nudge*
anyways, the next chapter's up now, hon, hope you like it :)
I'm a Survivor :)
Date: 2009-02-15 12:40 am (UTC)Re: I'm a Survivor :)
Date: 2009-02-17 08:02 pm (UTC)and yeah, they all need to realize that this is *house*, and they can't necessarily expect his recovery to take the same path as most peoples might :P
thanx so much for your kind words, hon, so glad you enjoyed this update and the story so far... the next update is up now, hope you enjoy it ;)
no subject
Date: 2009-02-15 02:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-17 07:58 pm (UTC)thanx so much, love :) the next chapter is up now, hope you enjoy it :)
*hugs*
DoS
no subject
Date: 2009-03-02 05:10 am (UTC)House is so distant! He's probably drifting in and out of reliving the trauma, so it is a good thing when Wilson distracts him. I was holding my breath as they were about to enter the apartment, thinking of how House might react upon returning to the beginning of his horrifying journey of the past few days.
I love Wilson in this; he's so adorable. I'm glad he told House how he appreciated what he did. Yet I do think he pushed his luck too much at the end. Wilson will need more patience if he wants House to recover steadily. Every time he pushes too hard it just doubles the time between House's next 'open' moment.
You are such a fun read! Wonderful new chapter. I'll try to get to the next one soon!
no subject
Date: 2009-03-02 04:38 pm (UTC)