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Sail Away
by gena
Sail Away
He'd almost drowned when he was thirteen. No one knew that, not even House. It had been on his father's boat, the boom not properly secured, shifted and hit him in the back. He'd barely registered the pain before the sparkling water rose towards him, its cold surface reflecting his own surprised face an instant before closing over his head like a blue curtain. Stunned, he could do nothing to save himself, he sank slowly, looking upwards as shimmering sunlight faded into deep navy shadow. He hadn't struggled, it didn't seem right somehow, the water had welcomed him, embraced him, and to fight against it would have been ungracious. He still carried an indelible memory of what it had been like beneath the water, the vibrant colors, the cool silky feel of the ocean holding him, dragging him closer to its heart, the sensation of belonging which had filled him. A sense of peace had filled him, quieting his childish fears until he thought he could hear the secrets of the world being whispered all around him. He didn't have to fight for attention; he didn't have to be perfect, or obedient or smart because the water loved him just as he was. James didn't know how long it took for them to reach him, but when they did he didn't want to be pulled from the water. His father wrenched him out of the sea, dislocating his shoulder and pounded his chest until the last traces of it were gone from him. Wilson had wanted to cry for the loss but everything swirled in confusion, distorted faces filled with terror danced in and out of his sight like the strange fish had done. He cried out but it all disappeared underneath the stark whiteness of his father's hospital. James actually remembered little of what followed but his family had told the tale so many times he knew he had lain near death for days. His brothers had treated him differently for a while, shy, awkward, as if he knew some secret they could not share but then they forgot about it and everything went back to normal. Except - James loved the sea.
He hadn't before, and logically he shouldn't have after it nearly claimed his life, but he did. Maybe because it had given him up, or because he had come to know its secrets, but from that moment on what happiness he found in life came from the water. He bought a sailboat with most of his first earnings as a doctor, it wasn't very large and it needed work, but it was his. His first wife had hated it, calling it her rival because he spent so much time and energy on it. When he got Head of Oncology he celebrated by trading in The Wood Breeze for a thirty four foot Catalina he dubbed Sea Whisper. By then he and Cynthia had divorced and he'd married Hannah but her fear of the water kept her from ever venturing out on it. House was the first person aboard and for once his sarcasm failed him in the exhilaration of sailing. Wilson would never forget the look of utter amazement and joy which had transformed his friend's face from sullen to something beautiful.
They'd taken the Whisper out nearly every weekend after that, sometimes Stacy went with them but more often than not she was working on a case. House would sit at the bow, face to the wind, salt spray glistening on his skin, lost in his own world. Wilson liked to watch him from his position at the wheel and whenever House would glance back at him he couldn't hide his smile. He'd always worried about the other man, his relentless intelligence, his dogged pursuit of a solution to whatever case he was working on took a toll on him, but on the boat House appeared mesmerized by the endless expanse of the sea. His normally intense eyes would reflect the water, as if somehow it had filled him with its mystery and soothed for a while the raging beast within him. Wilson never admitted to his friend that he enjoyed watching House more than the actual sailing they did. The last time the pair had gone out, the water had been choppy, a strong wind pushing waves into their path but the Whisper plowed through without difficulty. The last time they had taken her out had been a week before House's infarction and House had loved it so much, his unrestrained happiness had filled Wilson with his own joy.
Now with House unable to cope with the shifting slippery deck, Wilson went out infrequently and usually only when it got to be too much. He cared deeply for House, the man had no one else in the world and Wilson felt responsible. He'd not been able to prevent the terrible hurt which had occurred. Still, there were times he had to get away from the cloying confines of House's grief and anger. It threatened to consume him - his soul at least, and being out in the middle of the sea made it all seem so distant. The old clich still held true, he felt small - insignificant in comparison when out on that seemingly endless stretch of water, but instead of bringing sorrow the feeling comforted him. It was only then that he truly believed nothing he did mattered, and the thought was freeing. He routinely held lives in his hand, his actions extending years to patient's lives, or bringing some tiny comfort to House but with it came such responsibility. Had he done all he could? Were there other treatments he should have tried? Had he been there for House, protected him from himself? Could he ease his pain in some way he hadn't thought of? On dry land he agonized over each and every action, on the sea whatever he did had no impact and therefore he could do absolutely nothing wrong.
Wilson breathed in deeply, his gaze tracing the graceful lines of The Sea Whisper. He could feel the salt breeze and hear the cry of gulls. He closed his eyes, relishing his freedom. He could feel the pressure slipping away, lost in the blue water.
"What're you doing?" House asked, limping into his office.
Wilson opened his eyes, gaze automatically shifting from the photograph on his desk to the man standing before him. "Sailing," he whispered.
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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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