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Like we never loved at all
by Ariel
GENRE: songfic
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of these characters and I don't make any money from this, whatever this is.
NOTES: I usually speak Italian around here, so any mistakes you find you can point them to me and I'll fix them. Thanks.
NOTES 2: LIKE WE NEVER LOVED AT ALL is performed by Faith Hill and Tim McGraw and written by John Rich/Scot Sax/Vicky McGehee. It's taken from her newest album `Fireflies', Warner Bros. Records Inc.
GOOD OLD-FASHIONED LOVER BOY written and performed by Queen.
The pub mentioned near the end of the fic really exists. You can find it in my hometown, Verona, Italy.
This fic follows `Please, forgive me'
***
It was one of those admittedly rare nights.
Dr. James Wilson signed out from duty at PPTH feeling drained. That in itself wasn't exceptional. Feeling drained enough to keep away from home AND from House, that was new.
He and his ducklings - Wilson smirked every time that word came to mind - did amazing work that day, without fights or too much sarcasm... these days House did his best at annoying people only outside hospital walls. Wilson was mystified by his best friend behaviour as of late.
The clear night air helped him a little, waking him up a bit. He took his car and opted for a quiet sightseeing tour around town.
He got a little hungry and headed for a Chinese restaurant he and House liked a lot. He ate in peace, thinking about his patients, his wife, his friends... as he finished, he felt marginally calmer and exited the restaurant with a soft smile, heading for his car. Only to stop, dead in his tracks, at the sight of Gregory House laughing with Robert Chase just outside the cinema on the other side of the street.
^ You never looked so good/
as you did last night/
underneath those city lights/
Sometimes distances don't matter. So, even from where he stood, Wilson was able to see how Greg's eyes twinkled when he genuinely laughed, how he leaned in close to Chase to whisper conspiratorially in his ear, those wrinkles that appeared around his eyes. You know these things about your best friend. It's obvious. But he always thought he'd be the only one to see them. He was wrong.
^ There walking with your friend/
laughing at the moon/
I swear you looked right through me/
James' attention moved to Chase, tight jeans, t-shirt and shirt, all black, a stunning contrast with his pale skin and blond hair. He was breathtaking, and leaning against House, fingers tracing the sleeve of his coat, huge smile on his lips. He stood on tiptoe and whispered something that made Greg smirk and led the way down the road. James' feet moved of their own volition following them.
Walking quietly, their hands brushed. Voices kept low, House slipped his left arm around Robert's waist and their individual movements changed to accommodate the other. It spoke of a familiarity that sent chills down Wilson's back. Then, in a pool of shadows between two lampposts, Greg stopped, his arm pulled Chase flush against him, and they kissed.
^ But I'm still living with your goodbye/
and you're just going on with your life/
They entered a pub and still James followed them. He was looking for a clue, anything that could turn that ease between them in House's version of vengeance, a one-night stand, damn even a pity fuck, anything but that fond smile on Greg's face while his eyes drank Chase's movements as he went to the bartender and asked for a couple of Guinness.
Wilson sat at a reasonable distance and asked for a double whisky, single malt.
^ How can you just walk on by/
without one tear in your eye/
don't you have the slightest feelings /
left for me/
Eyes glued on the couple, Wilson tried to ignore the pats on the back they were receiving from obviously known people, maybe even friends. Chase was keeping up the conversation, but House got his share too. They were regulars together and Wilson seethed.
He knew there were rumours going around the hospital regarding he and House, about how they invaded the personal space of the other, how they whispered, joked together, how Wilson would rather spend his nights at House's than going home to his wife. There were even bets about the true nature of their relationship. Maybe, a long time ago, someone could have had any doubt, but now... not anymore.
Before Stacy, before the infarction, before wife #3... but Wilson didn't know where that time went anymore.
^ Maybe that's just your way/
of dealing with the pain/
forgetting everything between our/
rise and fall/
like we never loved at all/
Chase was laughing at something one of those guys said when House's fingers reached for his hand. Robert's laughter died and he smiled, a tender and full of love smile. He entwined their fingers and squeezed. James swore. Greg was blushing a bit.
He wasn't mocking Chase's need to touch, he wasn't using his wide catalogue of dirty jokes, he wasn't trying to humiliate his duckling, the traitor, the liar. He was looking at him with soft eyes and holding his hand.
Wilson ran to the bathroom.
^ You, I hear you're doing fine/
seems like you're doing well/
as far as I can tell/
After, he splashed a bit of cold water on his face and recoiled from the image of himself the mirror above the sink was sending him back. So haggard and tired.
Although the walls were thick, some of the music performed live on stage filtered through and it served only to worsen James' state. Slowly, as if wading through the mud, he reached the main hall and watched, horrified, House playing the piano with the crowd cheering him on.
- GOOD OLD-FASHIONED LOVER BOY - sprang from his fingers on the keys and he smiled, swaying his head to the rhythm.
As the last notes disappeared in the air, James watched Chase climb on the stage, sit himself astride the stool and kiss Greg's smirk, pride and love in his eyes.
^ Time is leaving us behind/
another week has passed/
and still I haven't laughed yet/
There had been a time in which Wilson had been where Chase stood now, hand stroking Greg's thigh slowly, lips tracing his smile. There had been nights spent talking quietly on his leather couch until the early morning, sundays passed making love again and again, never enough. Then Wilson's family had suggested he needed a wife and he hadn't been able to tell them about Greg.
^ So tell me what your secret is/
to letting go like you did, like you did/
Greg had found Stacy, Wilson, Julie and it had looked like their friendship had never suffered because of useless what ifs. Until now.
Now Wilson understood. He and Stacy had behaved just the same. Both had given up fighting for Greg, both had lied to themselves, saying he was too demanding, too much of a perfectionist, too intense, too egocentric, and had left him with a light heart. Chase didn't, of that he was sure.
Robert Chase, one way or another, won his battle, made House face his demons and got him as a victory prize.
^ How can you just walk on by/
without one tear in your eye/
don't you have the slightest feelings/
left for me/
Maybe that's just your way/
of dealing with the pain/
forgetting everything between our/
rise and fall/
like we never loved at all/
Wilson left them in that pub, - St. George and the dragon -, and went home, empty.
***
Monday morning dawned dark and rainy, a chilly wind wrapped itself around James and made him reach PPTH miserable and cold.
Once inside his office, he hung his jacket, took his white coat and newspaper, and gave in to his need to talk to Greg. Then he sighed. It just came to his mind that House would be in a cranky mood due to the level of humidity in the air, obviously. Just great.
He started having second thoughts about his awful idea to apologize to Greg just outside his department, but when he reached the Diagnostic Medicine lounge he allowed the panic to settle. Cameron and Foreman where keeping their distances from House, while Chase sat at the table with a crossword.
The color drained from Wilson's face: Greg was singing.
^ Did you forget the magic/
did you forget the passion/
did you ever miss me/
ever long to kiss me/
After that dreaded conversation ended, James was standing at his office window, staring at the rain. They had talked about lots of things: Stacy, their friendship, Chase, the pub... Wilson had felt the need to apologize for his intrusion on their private time together. He had told House that he had seen how Robert made him smile, made him happy and that he was ok with it.
Greg had smiled relieved, explaining he had been a bit preoccupied he wouldn't understand. Wilson had shaken his head and had closed his eyes. It was time for the hard part.
- He wasn't satisfied and demanded everything you had, right? -
House had blinked several times, then had nodded.
- You love him, don't you? - James had known the answer already, but had needed to hear it from Greg.
- Yes, I love him. - And it had ended then and there.
Now that there was Chase to take care of House, Wilson could think about himself a bit more. He had a divorce to plan and then, maybe... maybe he would find someone new and fight to have what he needed.
He smiled at the rain and got back to work. He had to finish early. House had invited him home to help him tease Chase.
Yes, Greg was right. Life was good.
^ You, you never looked so good...^
18/10/2005
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of Fox Television, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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