darkdreamer | Dark Redux, Part 1.20 -- Love Hurts

Hi, guys :) Here's the latest chapter in the Dark Redux series, and things start to get *really* dark here... Wilson gets downright scary... which won't come as a surprise to most of you if you remember which episode this is :P Anyways, hope you enjoy it :)

*hugs*
DoS

Title: Dark Redux
Episode: 1.20 -- Love Hurts
Beta:

andi88
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: R
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: (SPOILER! click to view)violence, dark themes, asphyxiation "play"
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: What happens when Wilson finds out that House has been lying to him about the reason for Cameron's return?

Wilson resisted the urge to cast a resentful glare through the glass walls of House’s office as he passed it, but couldn’t help sending a suspicious look in Cameron’s direction. She was back at work as Cuddy had decreed, and it wasn’t as if House could have done anything to stop it… but that didn’t mean that Wilson had to be happy about it.

He passed House’s office and headed toward his own, not trusting himself to enter the room as long as Cameron was there. Thus far, Cameron had no idea of the way he really felt about her, and he was afraid that if he tried to speak to her now, he would not be able to keep his false front in place convincingly. The loss of this most recent battle was too fresh in his mind.

And Wilson hated losing.

Just as Wilson turned the corner leading to his own door, he heard House’s office door open, and the voices of House and his staff as they headed out into the hallway.

“Dr. Cameron…”

Wilson paused just out of sight, his curiosity piqued by the sound of House’s voice, and waited to see what he had to say to his newly rehired employee.

“… I’d appreciate you keeping the terms of your new contract to yourself. Don’t want everyone clamoring for the same perks.”

Wilson frowned.

What perks? Not only does she get to be with House, day in and day out, free to put the moves on him anytime she feels like it, but there are perks? What did Cuddy make him give her?

“What perks?”

Wilson waited with bated breath when he heard Chase’s voice echo his own question. There was a playful note of amusement in Cameron’s voice that fed Wilson’s suspicions when she replied.

“Nothing you’d be interested in.”

“So it’s not money, then? Office space, insurance, parking… anything he could offer you, we’d be interested in,” Foreman insisted.

Wilson strained to hear Cameron’s response as House’s team moved away from his hiding place, their voices gradually fading.

“He agreed to go on a date with me.”

Wilson’s stomach dropped at those words, his eyes widening as he drew in a sharp breath in disbelief. The three of them kept talking, but Chase’s and Foreman’s stunned reactions of excited interest were drowned out by the roaring of jealous rage in Wilson’s ears.

He wouldn’t… he wouldn’t cheat on me… would he?

As a nurse passing him in the hallway cast him a look of concern, Wilson was suddenly painfully aware of how conspicuous he looked, standing against the wall in the hallway – undoubtedly looking pale and shocked and sick, if the way he felt was any indication. He hurried down the hall to his own office, closing and locking the door behind him. He paced back and forth across the carpet, consumed with his own ever-darkening thoughts.

Of course he’d do this to me. She’s younger and prettier and coming on to him every second of every day… and he didn’t have to agree to go on a date with her. Cuddy wouldn’t have insisted on that. No, that was all House.

Unable to contain the fury boiling up in him at his lover’s betrayal, Wilson stopped his pacing to seize his empty coffee cup from his desk, spinning around to hurl it against the wall, and relishing the sound as the glass shattered and fell to the floor.

And he’s going to be sorry. He’s mine… and when I’m through with him, he won’t forget it…

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

House could not remember the last time he had felt so awkward and uncomfortable.

He sat across the table from Cameron – dressed up, well-groomed, and on his best behavior – pretending to listen as she recited her theory on why she believed that he had feelings for her, while trying his best not to present any false sign that she might take to mean he returned those feelings. He felt a little sick – had, in fact, ever since Cuddy had approached him and made it obvious that Cameron had failed to keep their date a secret.

If Wilson finds out… if he hears about this… he’s going to be so furious… I’ll never be able to explain this well enough to satisfy him…

House tried to put the troublesome thoughts out of his head, but found it difficult to focus on anything else. Realizing that he was likely to become so lost in his own thoughts as to completely miss what Cameron was saying and make it obvious that he wasn’t really listening, House forced himself to focus on her words rather than his own worries.

“I have one evening with you,” she said softly, a warm, hopeful smile on her lips. “One chance – and I don’t want to waste it talking about what wines you like or what movies you hate. I want to know… how you feel… about me.”

House hesitated, trying to think of an answer that would minimize the risk at which he had placed his relationship with Wilson by coming out with Cameron in the first place. He decided at last on a sort of veiled honesty that would reveal just enough to cause her to back off.

“Actually… I don’t feel much of anything about you, one way or the other,” he bluntly confessed. He held her bewildered gaze as he explained quietly, “I’m… actually… involved with someone.”

Her wide eyes quickly lowered to the table, and she swallowed hard, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Her voice trembled with hurt and anger as she retorted at last, “You couldn’t have mentioned that before I wasted my time going out on this date with you… thinking that I might actually have a chance with you?”

House was quiet for a moment, his head lowered self-consciously as he answered with quiet, brutal honesty.

“Not if I expected you to come back.”

Cameron suddenly raised her eyes to his again, searching and intent. “So… I never had a chance with you.” There was a note of dubious disbelief in her voice.

“No,” House admitted. “You’re… not my type.”

“Do I know this person? Does she… work at the hospital?”

House grimaced, shaking his head. “Let’s not go there, Cameron. There’s no need for…”

“Well, I’d like to at least know what the woman who beat me out is like – what kind of competition ruined my chances…”

“There never was any competition.” The sharp note in House’s voice silenced Cameron’s half-teasing remarks, and her brave attempt at a smile faded as she waited for him to go on. “You never had a chance, because… I never had any desire to be someone’s pet project.”

Cameron’s eyes widened in stunned indignation. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded.

House drew in a slow breath, preparing his thoughts, wanting to deliver a blow sharp and true enough to silence her questions and protests and leave her quietly nursing her wounds for the rest of the evening.

“You live under the delusion that you can fix everything that isn’t perfect. That’s why you married a man who was dying of cancer. You don’t love. You need. And now that your husband is dead, you’re looking for your new charity case. That’s why you’re going out with me. I’m twice your age. I’m not great looking. I’m not charming. I’m not even nice. What I am is what you need. I’m damaged.”

Cameron’s reaction was precisely what House had hoped for. She grew quiet and uncomfortable, and they spent the next hour in an awkward silence that he far preferred to her unsettling questions.

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

By the time he walked into his apartment that night, House was exhausted from the sheer tension and discomfort of the evening. He didn’t bother to turn on the lights as he walked into the living room, shedding his coat and scarf and tossing them aside onto the piano stool. Wearily, he went to the sofa and sat down, laying his head back and closing his eyes.

Wilson had told him that afternoon that he had a speaking engagement this evening that would keep him out late, so at least he didn’t have to worry about explaining his whereabouts. When he got home, Wilson would simply assume that House had arrived home at the usual time.

That thought had barely passed through House’s mind, when he suddenly felt the firm, tight pressure of rough leather wrapped around his throat, heard the shallow breath of someone crouched behind him. When in alarm he tried to sit up straight, to resist, he felt a strong, familiar hand grip his shoulder and hold him back against the sofa.

Wilson’s low voice in his ear was the source of both relief and apprehension.

“Shh… don’t, it’s okay… it’s just me…”

House swallowed hard against the restriction at his throat, reaching up at trembling hand to feel it. He recognized the smooth surface of a belt, either his or Wilson’s, pressing hard enough against his skin that he could not get his fingers behind it, but not quite tight enough to prevent him from drawing breath.

“Wilson…” he gasped out, his voice a ragged, uneven whisper. “… w-what…?”

“Shh,” Wilson repeated, and a slight tug backward on the belt brought House’s tentative protests to silence. “I’ve been thinking a lot, tonight… about your patient. Harvey, was it? And his… his mistress, I suppose… and… and trust… what it might be like… to trust someone that much…”

As he spoke, his voice a hushed enticement in House’s ear, Wilson’s hand slid down from House’s shoulder, fingertips tracing a teasing trail across his stomach. House found himself aroused despite his apprehensions, desire mingling with fear, when Wilson uttered a dark, tempting question.

“Let’s play a game, House. Do you trust me?”

House’s mouth was dry, his heart racing, as he nodded rapidly, his breath ragged and shallow.

“Yes…”

Wilson maintained his grip on the belt around House’s throat, holding it just taut enough to keep House’s fear and arousal high, without quite restricting his breath, as he moved around to kneel on the couch beside House. He pushed him forcefully down on his back, one fist clutching the belt behind House’s head, the other deftly working the buttons on the front of House’s shirt.

“Do you have any idea…” Wilson murmured, punctuating his words with feather-soft kisses against House’s chest. “… how much you mean to me? How… important… you are to me?”

House gasped as Wilson’s free hand fell to the button in the front of his pants, and his hands automatically moved to help him.

“Don’t!”

Wilson hissed, his tone low and sharp, and a rough jerk on the belt caused House to flinch, immediately withdrawing his hands and holding them up in front of him in a gesture of submission. Wilson held the belt tight for a few moments, and House gasped uselessly, struggling for breath that would not come, until at last he eased the pressure again, smiling down at his lover in dark satisfaction.

“Let me… take control,” Wilson urged him softly, as his hand slid down the open front of House’s pants. “It’s so… important… that we’re able to… trust each other… Do you understand that?”

House nodded, impossibly aroused by the dark seduction of Wilson’s voice, his touch, and even the frightening, fascinating game in which he was engaging. He was a little uneasy, but the whole thing was far more sexy than scary.

“Do you trust me, House?”

House nodded again, whispering hoarsely. “Yes.”

Wilson rewarded the desired response with a soft, tender kiss to House’s lips, his tongue dipping teasingly between them, then retreating when House tried to return the kiss. Wilson smiled down at him, something dark and unfathomable glittering in his eyes.

“If you asked me,” Wilson whispered against his throat, his hand stroking House gently through the thin cotton of his underwear, driving him to greater heights of arousal, “I’d say the same thing… that I trust you, House.”

House closed his eyes, relishing the tender words and overwhelming pleasure of his touch.

And all at once, everything changed, as Wilson uttered words that sent a shiver of dreadful understanding down House’s spine.

“Until today, anyway.”

House opened his eyes, looking up at Wilson with a startled question on his lips; but before he could voice it, Wilson jerked the belt tight around his throat, cutting off his breath and holding it tight. His hand on House’s rising erection tightened as well until his grip was painful, but House’s cry of anguish was utterly stifled by the leather that stopped his breath.

“I know what you did tonight, House,” Wilson whispered into his ear, a cold, nasty smile on his lips. “I know who you were with.”

House’s eyes widened with alarm, and he shook his head in dismay, struggling to draw a breath to explain. Wilson eased his grip on the belt for a moment, and House sucked in a desperate draught of oxygen, immediately trying to speak in a trembling voice.

“Wilson… I didn’t…”

“Shut up,” Wilson snapped, pulling the belt tight again, jerking House’s head back painfully against the arm of the sofa.

House raised his hands to pull uselessly against the belt at his throat, fingers only succeeding in scratching his own flesh, as they could not find purchase. Wilson reached his other hand up to roughly grasp House’s hands and yank them down, trapping them between their bodies.

“I’m going to tell you something,” he murmured softly, raising his hand to stroke House’s cheek in a gesture utterly incongruous with the violence his other hand was perpetrating. “And you’re going to listen to me, House… aren’t you?”

House nodded frantically, struggling against the darkness at the edges of his vision, his trapped hands instinctively trying to push Wilson off him, but in vain.

“If you ever cheat on me, House… if you ever betray my trust again…” Wilson’s voice was hushed, frighteningly controlled, as he met House’s panicked gaze and whispered with a soft smile, “I’ll kill you. Do you believe me?”

House nodded, desperate to appease Wilson – and in that moment, genuinely in fear for his life. Wilson smirked, shaking his head slightly at House’s response.

“No,” he said in a voice of mild amusement. “No, I don’t think you do, House… you don’t believe me…”

House nodded again frantically, his lips parted in a desperate, useless gasp that brought no air to his burning lungs. He felt tears forming in the corners of his eyes, as his body struggled for survival. There was a burning ache building in his chest, a deep, swelling sensation of panic as he uselessly tried to free himself from Wilson’s oppressive weight above him.

He was so thoroughly disoriented and terrified that he was not fully aware of it as Wilson’s demeanor changed, didn’t realize that anything had happened at all until Wilson all at once released his grip on the belt, removing it and tossing it to the floor.

“House…” Wilson spoke with gentle urgency, his voice suddenly filled with dismay as he rose up off of House, returning to him the use of his hands, now numb and trembling. “… you didn’t really believe me, did you? It was just… just role play… just part of the game! You know that, right?”

House stared at him, bewildered, utterly confused, his shaking hands clutching at his bruised throat. He drew back against the side of the sofa, shaking his head slightly, relief warring with the remnants of his fear. Wilson’s behavior now was so startling, so difficult to process in relation to the violence he had just committed against him, that he couldn’t make sense of it.

“I… I didn’t… I mean… I couldn’t… breathe…” he gasped out, regarding Wilson with wary uncertainty.

“Well, of course you couldn’t.” Wilson’s voice held a rueful, troubled half-laugh, as a grimace crossed his lips. “That was… sort of the point, wasn’t it? Of… that kind of game?”

House was shaking, trying to understand what had just happened, not sure what to believe. Now that it was over, he couldn’t be sure whether or not Wilson had been serious, or simply using real events for the purposes of his game. He studied Wilson’s face, searching his eyes, and finding regret and compassion there, where moments earlier he had seen only menace and fury.

Uncertain and still afraid of incurring Wilson’s wrath for the ill-advised date with Cameron, House tried again to explain in a tentative, subdued voice.

“I… I didn’t… cheat on you. It was just so she’d… come back…”

“I know,” Wilson sighed, waving a dismissive hand, rolling his eyes. “I know you don’t care about her.” His expression grew solemn, his hand coming to rest on House’s arm as he added, “But… you should have told me. You shouldn’t have lied to me, House.”

“I-I know,” House agreed, nodding hurriedly, his arms crossed defensively over his chest. He was trembling with relief, yet still afraid to let Wilson get too close. He wasn’t entirely sure that the danger had passed. “I-I’m sorry…”

“Come here,” Wilson murmured gently, reaching out and drawing House into his arms in a comforting embrace. “It’s all right, I know… I didn’t mean for you to… God, House, I didn’t think you’d take me seriously…”

“I… I don’t know… what happened,” House whispered. “I just… I’m sorry…”

He was so confused, so unsure of what had just taken place between them… and therefore desperate for the reassurance Wilson was offering. Wilson’s hand rose to stroke soothingly through his hair, holding him close and murmuring quiet comfort in his ear. House felt himself relaxing into Wilson’s embrace with a trembling shudder, his fears subsiding as the sensation of Wilson’s former violence faded into memory.

“It’s okay… it’s okay…”

Then, for just a moment, Wilson’s hand closed in House’s hair, pulling sharply, and House tensed at the brief sting of pain, his chest tightening with cold fear as Wilson leaned in to speak close to his ear in a very soft, certain voice.

“But… you won’t lie to me again… will you, House?”

“No,” House whispered without hesitation, shaking his head, eyes lowered uncomfortably. “No, I won’t… I promise…”

“Good,” Wilson murmured, his hand softening in House’s hair, his tone becoming soothing again. “I know you won’t. I love you, House… I love you so much..."

TBC...