Shadows of Doubt, 2.6 -- Spin

[darkdreamer]

Hey, guys :)

Here's the latest chapter of Shadows of Doubt... Hope you enjoy it :) Thanks for all your kind comment, looking forward to all of your thoughts on this chapter :)

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DoS

Title: Shadows of Doubt: A Dark!Wilson House Redux
Episode: 2.6 -- Spin
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: 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 -- specific warnings for each chapter as necessary
Chapter Warnings: none
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: House tries to hide what's happening to him, in the face of Stacy's rising suspicions about the strange injuries he keeps showing up with... and Wilson makes a surprising decision about the motorcycle.

 

The next morning, House and Wilson got ready for work in awkward silence, each caught up in his own unpleasant thoughts of the past couple of days, and everything that had happened, both between them, and with House’s parents. There had been no further argument, no further discussion of the bike or any other points of contention between them, but their mutual tension was still a nearly palpable thing.

Wilson passed House on the way from the bathroom after his shower and exchanged a brief, uncertain smile with him before heading toward the closet to pick out something to wear. Much to Wilson’s surprise, he found the ironing board set up in the bedroom, with his freshly ironed pale blue shirt laid neatly across it. His chest ached with gratitude and affection at the simple gesture – evidence that House was not holding his recent violence against him.

In fact… it almost looks as if he’s holding it against himself instead…

Wilson’s thoughts returned to the events of the evening before, and his expression darkened at the troublesome memories as he gave a weary sigh and shrugged into the shirt.

Good… maybe he won’t give me any more trouble about the stupid bike.

When House got out of the shower, Wilson was waiting for him in the bedroom. He ignored the way House tensed at his approach, wrapping gentle arms around him and drawing him in close for a slow, tender kiss. Wilson made the kiss linger, finally backing off when House was a little breathless and leaning unconsciously toward him in an instinctive attempt to continue contact.

Wilson couldn’t help but smile as he rested his forehead against House’s and whispered, “Thank you.”

House shrugged self-consciously, cautiously extricating himself from Wilson’s embrace and going to the closet – but not quickly enough to hide the slightly giddy smile on his lips at Wilson’s reaction to his small act of generosity. His tone was carefully casual and dismissive when he replied.

“No big deal.”

“From anyone else, it wouldn’t be. From you… just…” Wilson shook his head, somewhat at a loss, before giving up and concluding, “Just… thanks.”

Both were quiet for a long moment, before Wilson ventured a question in a deliberately calm, non-confrontational voice.

“So… you want to take the bike to work? And then I’ll follow you over to the dealership at lunch? Does that work for you?”

House was quiet a moment longer, his back still turned to Wilson. Finally, he spoke, his voice soft and a little timid. “I guess so.” He paused, hesitant. “I’d… really like to keep it.”

Wilson fell silent, fighting the dark mood that came with the frustrating continuation of this argument he had thought to be settled. He forcefully jerked a dresser drawer open and took out a pair of socks, slamming the drawer closed before going to the bed and sitting down to put them on.

House flinched at the loud sound, still not turning to face Wilson, though Wilson caught the sharp intake of breath that accompanied the motion. Wilson bit his lip, his brow furrowed in a pensive frown, as he tried to decide how best to handle this situation.

I want to make sure he’s safe… make sure I do what’s best for him… but… maybe it’s better if it’s not all at once. I don’t want to scare him away…

After a few moments of thought, Wilson reached a decision. He knew exactly how to handle the issue of the motorcycle.

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

House’s mouth was dry, his hands trembling with fear, as he waited for Wilson to respond to his tentative statement. He felt sick to his stomach, inwardly quaking with apprehension as he waited for the inevitable fallout.

Stupid, stupid… what’s the matter with you? Should have known better than to argue about it… should have just let it go…

He was so lost in his self-accusing thoughts that he didn’t hear Wilson approaching from behind, and was startled by the sudden feeling of Wilson’s arms around him, one wrapped around his waist and the other around his shoulders, drawing him backward against Wilson’s body and frighteningly off balance.

He drew in a shaky gasp of alarm, flinching as he stammered out, “I’m sorry… it doesn’t matter… I d-don’t need to keep it…”

“Hey… shhh,” Wilson soothed him, his voice gentle and sympathetic, and House was both relieved and unsettled to feel Wilson’s lips kissing a slow line up his shoulder toward his jaw. “It’s okay… I’m not mad… I think…” He paused, one hand rising to turn House’s face toward him, capturing his lips in a brief, gentle kiss before drawing back to meet his eyes and continue. “… I think you should keep it.”

House’s eyes widened with surprise, and his jaw dropped for a moment before he recovered his composure, swallowing hard. “You… you do?”

“Yeah,” Wilson confirmed with a nod, releasing his grip on House and moving around to face him, his hands resting gently on House’s arms and trailing slowly up and down. “I do. I… I want you to be safe, House, but… but I shouldn’t keep you from doing something that means this much to you. If you want to keep it…I think you should.”

House’s face broke out into a cautious smile, his apprehension fading like mist in the sunlight.

“With… a couple of conditions,” Wilson warned him, fighting to keep his expression serious in the face of House’s obvious joy.

“Okay, sure,” House agreed readily, thinking that any conditions Wilson might place on the deal had to be better than giving up the bike completely.

“I want you to tell me when you’re riding it, and where you’re going. I need to know where to tell the police and paramedics to look if you don’t come home.”

Wilson let out a rueful laugh, and House nodded, returning it with amusement at Wilson’s over-protectiveness.

It was a reasonable request.

“And I want you to always wear a helmet.”

That was an even more reasonable request. Still, House couldn’t resist giving Wilson a hard time about it.

“I’m not eight,” he reminded him, rolling his eyes. “But okay, no problem. I like being not decapitated myself, you know.”

House rode with Wilson to work, thrilled with his victory and in a better mood than he had been in days.

He didn’t give a thought to the fresh bruise that marked his cheek where Wilson had slapped him… or the fact that he hadn’t been back to work since it had happened.

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

“We need to talk.”

House looked up with minor annoyance as Stacy stormed into his office, his attention diverted momentarily from the elaborate domino-like construction he had made from various objects around his office. He was in a relatively good mood, so he gave her a mildly suggestive smile as he retorted with false concern.

“Oh, God. Are you pregnant? Because I really wanted to finish high school.”

Stacy just rolled her eyes, ignoring his remarks as she crossed the room to stand in front of his desk. “You have to renew your credentials. They’re only good for three more weeks, and the paperwork takes…”

She stopped abruptly, and House paused in his efforts to look deliberately bored and unconcerned, looking up to meet her eyes. His curiosity quickly turned to self-conscious alarm, however, when he saw the look of dismay on her face, and realized even before she asked what had put that look there.

“Is that a fresh bruise on your cheek, House?”

“Yeah. I do happen to get into bar fights more frequently than when we were together.” He shook his head, frowning with falsely innocent confusion as he shrugged and continued, “Something about being a bitter, angry cripple – don’t know – makes me more prone to violence, somehow.”

“House… seriously,” Stacy insisted, undeterred by his explanation. “What happened?”

“Stacy… seriously,” House mimicked in an annoying whine meant to resemble her tone, before allowing his smile to fade and repeating with firm insistence, “Bar. Fight.”

Stacy opened her mouth to argue, but before she could say anything else, Cuddy walked into House’s office.

“House, got a patient.”

House rose to his feet and walked around his desk with a falsely cordial nod in Stacy’s direction.

“Let’s walk while we talk. I need an excuse to escape Stacy’s inappropriate-for-the-workplace advances. You really should fire her. Her lingering feelings for me are making me feel sexually harassed. Seriously, because of her my work environment lately feels totally unsafe…”

Relieved for the excuse to get away, House left Stacy standing staring helplessly after him as he went with Cuddy to see about the world-class cyclist who had just been admitted.

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

House handed the young male flight attendant his chart and sent him out of the exam room with orders to cut back on his gum-chewing, rolling his eyes at yet another example of human idiocy as he turned his back on the door and sighed heavily. It had been an exhausting and frustrating afternoon in the clinic, and he was ready to focus on something less inane and more interesting.

He jumped as the door opened with a bang, spinning around with his heart in his throat – and then relaxing into irritation when he saw Stacy standing there.

She was not the kind of interesting he’d been hoping for.

“House… we really need to talk.”

“No, you gave up the right to that particular irritating feminine manipulative device when you walked out on me,” House snapped, feeling a little cornered and not at all patient with Stacy’s persistence.

“House… just because we couldn’t live with each other anymore doesn’t mean I don’t still care about you…”

“Yeah, apparently too much. Which means I should be careful. Bad things happen to people when you care too much about them, don’t they, Stacy?”

She flinched slightly, visibly stunned and wounded by the harsh accusation in his words.

“House, that’s…” Her voice was barely over a hoarse whisper. “… that’s not fair…”

“A lot of things in life aren’t.” He met her eyes, his own glittering and maliciously sharp, eagerly seeking the hurt reaction his words had obtained. “You taught me that, a long time ago. I’m just returning the favor.”

Stacy swallowed hard, tears shining in her eyes. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out. After a long, tense moment had passed, she abruptly turned and walked away, swiping angrily at her eyes, the exam room door swinging closed again behind her.

As House watched her go, his smile fell, the vicious light fading from his eyes. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her, not really; he had just wanted to make her let it go and leave him alone. He knew why she’d done what she did all those years ago – knew that no matter what he thought about it, how it felt, she had only wanted to save his life, however misguided her attempts to do so.

She didn’t deserve that. No matter what’s happened between us… she didn’t deserve to have that thrown in her face again…

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

“I want to apologize.”

Stacy looked up, startled, to see House taking a seat across from her desk. She swallowed hard, her jaw set with her determination, whatever his game was this time, not to let him get to her as he had done earlier in the clinic.

“I’ve been punishing you too long for what happened. I know that. But… it’s a little hard to deal with. Working with you every day – it’s not easy. And it’s less easy with you in my face every five minutes demanding answers about my every little boo-boo. I shouldn’t have said what I said… but you lost the right to demand answers about my life when you walked out. That much is a fact, no matter how you try to pretty it up and make it sound less ass-ish.”

Stacy blinked, startled by his frank honesty – and automatically respecting it. She nodded slowly.

“You’re right.” She paused, taking a deep breath before adding, “That doesn’t make me stop caring about you.”

“I… know you still care about me. I… still care about you, too. I think… we might always care. But if you’re going to let it affect our work, then… we might have a problem.”

“I just don’t like to see you hurting,” Stacy confessed, her shoulders slumping, her brow creased in a sorrowful expression as she met his eyes across the desk. “I come here, and first thing you know I see you showing up with bruises – and you tell me you got some of them from your patients – which I can’t understand why Lisa’s been tolerating that kind of behavior, no matter how much she thinks you might have brought it on yourself, and… you’re getting into fights, and… and I know it’s not my business, but I can’t help worrying…”

“I appreciate that.” Something about the soft seriousness of House’s tone cut her rant short, and Stacy waited for him to go on. “It means a lot; it really does… but…” House paused, glancing down and drawing in a deep breath. “… I’m a big boy, Stacy. You have to believe that I can take care of myself – my own issues. If I get into trouble, it’s my problem, not yours. That’s… not your job anymore.”

Stacy was torn between the seeming reason in House’s words, and her nagging sensation that, despite his explanations, there was more to the story than he was telling her.

But… if there is… he’s right. It’s not your business anymore.

“Just… promise me one thing.” She held House’s gaze, a dubious expression in her eyes. “If anything happens that I can help you with… you’ll come to me. If a patient hits you, you should pursue legal action. That kind of thing is not acceptable. Okay?”

House gave her a tolerant smile, nodding. “Okay.”

He got up without another word and headed for the door, leaving Stacy staring after him with troubled eyes, wondering if she had just made a terrible mistake in agreeing to his request – and wondering whether or not she would be able to keep her promise at all.

TBC...