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Bad Company

Aftershocks 24.3: A Walk in the Park



Aftershocks 24.3: A Walk in the Park

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Silver Jag
TITLE: Aftershocks: A Story in Shattered Pieces
SUMMARY: "We're going to the park."
CHARACTERS: House, Wilson
R for language and themes (gen fic).
WARNINGS: Details the aftermath of events in Bad Company, a rough, violent story. Aftermath isn't always pretty; may distress some readers. Adult themes and adult language.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em. Never will.
NOTES: The pieces of this shattered story are numbered. The first number signifies the number of days that have elapsed since the original event in Bad Company; the second number signifies when the fic occurs during that day.

A Walk in the Park

Wilson groans loudly as he lands with a thump on the couch next to House. House hadn't thought it possible, but Wilson's various noises have become even more expressive since his jaw was wired shut. He recognizes the feelings behind this particular groan almost instantly: a combination of frustration, generalized irritation, pain, and cabin fever. Not surprising, since Wilson hasn't left the apartment (save for the hospital visits) in...two weeks.

He clicks off the television.

"Come on," he says and elbows Wilson's right bicep gently. He grabs his cane and hauls himself off the couch.

Wilson just looks up at him and huffs softly through his nose. His expression says, "I just sat down."

"I know you just sat down," House replies and holds out his free hand. "But I also know it's a nice day outside, you showered this morning and are thus somewhat presentable, and that you are thoroughly sick of looking at my arguably very interesting living room. We're going to the park."

Wilson frowns.

"'You'll heal better if you're up and moving,'" House says in a high falsetto. "Sound familiar?"

Wilson narrows his eyes and grunts. "S'not the same," he says.

"But it is the same, or close enough to it," House grumbles. "I needed those trips."

"You hated those trips."

"I only complained to keep up my reputation." House holds his hand out again. "You'll thank me later."

"You thank'n me now?"

House rolls his eyes and lets out an eloquent snort of his own.

Wilson's eyes sparkle a little as he reaches for House's hand.

It is a beautiful, sunny day, and the park is populated largely by moms and boisterous kids. House and Wilson settle themselves on a bench at the very edge of the park.

Wilson sighs. This one is tired, but content.

"Two blocks takes it out of you, hmm?" House observes and stretches his right leg out a little.

"Surprise," Wilson murmurs. He stretches his shoulders back against the bench, keeping his gaze down. His face is barely visible under the trucker hat he had insisted upon borrowing—he looks closer to normal than he has in a long time, but he's still obviously nervous about being in public. His lips stretch oddly over the equipment in his mouth and the bruising has faded to a mottled yellow-green. Frankenstein's monster would probably be less conspicuous.

House watches the set of Wilson's shoulders slowly relax as they sit in the sun and most everyone passes by them without a second glance. House starts to unwind, too; he'd never admit it, but the sunshine does a lot to improve his mood. A few more days like this and House might even begin to believe things are on their way back to normal.

The burst of anger, finally, from Wilson and House's long-overdue confession had been like lancing a boil. Tuesday morning was slightly awkward, with their graceless attempts to get out of Wilson's bed while not acknowledging the presence of the other. The awkwardness lasted until House went to fetch breakfast and Wilson asked for a grande mochaccino with sprinkles. House unthinkingly told him to blow it out his ass. They had both stared at each other for a moment, and Wilson blinked, long and slow like an owl. Then they dissolved into laughter—well, House had laughed. Wilson giggled, sounding like that muffled-up kid on South Park.

Since then they've both been cutting back on their meds.

House lets his gaze drift around the park. He starts making up stories about the other park-goers, but something about the way Wilson's sitting stops him from breaking the silence.

She's wondering why she ever agreed to bear his crotch-fruit and wishing she could go back to work. That one's worried because she doesn't look half as perfect as all the other moms. That kid's a samurai fighting for justice and the kiss of a pretty girl. And that guy

That guy, in a silk suit, with a pink Financial Times tucked under his arm, is giving him a jaunty little wave. That guy is looking right at him, House is sure. Even obscured by sunglasses, icy grey eyes are meeting his.

All the panic buttons in his brain light up, every switch is thrown wide open, and adrenaline floods his veins with icewater and heat. It takes all of House's considerable willpower to calmly turn to Wilson and quietly suggest they leave.

Wilson's eyes slide sideways to look at him from under the cap. "We jus' got here," he hisses.

"I'm hot." House puts his best whine into his voice to cover the tremor. "And the goddamn kids, they're screaming." He had thought the hat was ridiculous when Wilson first put it on, but now he's thankful for it. Don't look up, he silently begs. Don't look up, don't argue with me, don't look up.

Wilson sighs and groans with a little exasperated huff at the end, which says, "And you're probably worried the sunshine will make you burst into flames, so we need to return to the Batcave straightaway." But he starts to push himself up off the bench.

By the time Wilson's finished, House is on his feet and standing between Martin and Wilson. House grabs his elbow and turns them to go.

Wilson shrugs House's hand away and growls, "'M fine."

House pushes them into a slightly-too-fast pace. "I know," he snaps under his breath. "But we need to get home."

Wilson keeps up, barely. "House, what the hell?"

"I think I left the iron on."

Wilson snorts, but follows him home without any more questions.
  • (Anonymous)
    • Easy: we're evil.

      You were expecting something else?
    • (Anonymous)
      Yes! Yes, I expect you to have House sexually assault Martin with his cane! And then choke him to death with one of Wilson's discarded ties! (deep breath)
      I love this story. I wouldn't get so carried away if I didn't.
    • You know, I don't think Blackmare is the right name for you right now.. I am thinking NIGHTmare would be more appropriate.

      You are so bad. And so very, very good at it.

  • Ack! And now you're leaving us for the weekend.
    So cruel, so perfectly cruel!
  • Y'll ARE JUST MADE OF SO MUCH WRONG!! Evil doesn't begin to describe it.

    Is Martin going to try and hurt Wilson again? Wilson sleeps in the living room and Martin could get to him before House realized it. How is House going to keep Wilson safe while he's at work?

    I am in agony.
    • (Anonymous)
      I've calmed down, I have.
      I'm ignorant of course, but I suspect that it's House himself that Martin is after this time. He never seemed interested in Wilson as anything more than a job, but House... (shivers)
      Thanks for giving me something to look forward to on a Monday, guys!
  • CRIPES. That's EVIL. We have to wait 'til Monday. I mean, three chapters is sweet, but Monday?!

    It's a very good thing Wilson didn't see Martin. But what's House going to do now? He has to go to work--he won't leave Wilson alone, I'm sure--so....

    Unless House was hallucinating? Like Wilson at the Dairy Queen?

    Argh. Going through withdrawal already.
    • (Anonymous)
      I'm such an idiot, I never even considered that it may be a hallucination.
  • He's so sure, huh? Now who's going all PTSD?

    Rargh, evil cliffhanger. :(
  • Greetings!

    WATERFOWL!!! I forgot it was Friday night - I really should have remembered from last week - the three parts thrown out to keep the readers at bay for the weekend.

    I'm joining in the chorus of 'You left it THERE???!!!' *sigh* But at least you'll return on Monday. That's some comfort. Although I have a sneaking suspicion that y'all will merely jump to another place, b/c y'all are like that. *bigger sigh* Thus leaving unanswered the question of... was it really him? Or was it merely House's turn to have a "Poison" hallucination? *grumble*

    *flies off, muttering something that sounds a lot like "Evil, evil, EVIL women!!!"


    PS - I love it, even with the evil cliffhanger-o'-doom, tm. And love the repartee and the shorthand House and Wilson have developed. House standing between Martin and Wilson is touching, that 'you'd have to come through me' as much as camouflage. (Pondering the efficacies of adrenalin in such circumstances and thinking, in a sick way, what a beautiful scene it would make.) -K
  • OH NOES. I thought they were safe. I was wrong!?
  • Insightful first chapter, cute, fun second chapter, Sweet last chapter....WAIT, Martin?!!! Oh NOs!

    I can't wait to see how this will develop, no idea at all where this is going, and thus am very excited.

    Love how they both cutting down their meds, the bearing of slurppy as gifts were almost like flowers, right? Thanks for the image of Wilson with pink, glittering lips.

    Love that they can commute so much without words.
  • *cries*

    I'm totally freaked out right now!

    Seriously, I was just going to go to sleep and now I'm totally freaking out because Martin's back and they were supposed to be happy and safe and I don't know what's going to happen!

    btw, brilliant job, all around, I'm in love with this fic, in the immortal words of Stephen Fry, "I'd love to go to bed with it and kiss it in many soft private places" you should definitly, when its finished, put it all together somehow . . . in the mean time, thanks for everything.

    *checks closet, under the bed, and leaves a light on, before going to bed because Martin scares me*
    • How do you think WE feel? Martin actually talks to us.
      • That must be awful! I'm so sorry.

        Makes me think of what House said in One Room, One Day . . . about how the most we can do is try and aspire to be something short of pure evil or something . . . he was able to very strictly rationalize that girl's trauma, logical and impersonal, but somehow I don't think he feels the same way about what's happening with Wilson . . .

        also, I just want to quickly say that the scene where House put his arm around Wilson, a chapter (s?) ago, was SO utterly sweet I have no words, really. cheers!
  • Ack! You posted three just so you could leave us with this all weekend, didn't you? Eep!

    Loved all three parts, and I really hope we get to see a Foreman visit :D
  • EEEEE!

    How horrible that not only has Martin has ruined the fragile contentedness and relief from pain that House and Wilson had suffered so much to achieve, but Martin has been stalking them, who knows for how long? And what agenda he might have, and why?!?! *feels a bit heartsick* You set us up, you devious writers, you!

    It would be wonderfully ironic if Martin got lung cancer from those cigarettes. *hates him*
    • Yeah.. CANCER. I know JUST the right oncologist to send him too, also.....

  • *twitch twitch twitch twitch TWITCH*

    I only found this story two days ago and have been racing through it.

    Hence this review being written at 4:22am (where I am).

    Hence I didn't notice that this was the last current chapter until I hit the back button on my browser, scrolled down for more, and saw that there WASN'T ANY.

    Hence I am writing this fairly pointless (sorry) comment to attempt to express my incredible frustration. I feel a little like Wilson. Minus the physical pain, thank goodness. Though I have had jaw surgery and do know very well the pains of food envy. (Followed by food _orgasm_ when a very well loved friend of mine made uber-soft and sweet-drenched crepes for me to shove between my wires. Oops, was that TMI? But yes, crepes - hint hint.)

    *growls* I assume you have a regular posting schedule of which I am currently clueless. I'll check back tomorrow.

    You evil, evil, wicked GENIUS.
    • Hello, and welcome to our ficverse! It *might* eat you alive, as it has done with us. :)

      We post Monday through Friday. When we began, we had approximately sixty chapters. Since then, we have been writing additional chapters as we post, so who knows what the total will be (this post is #63, incidentally). The Big Post has links to all chapters, FYI.

      Thanks for reading, and letting us know you're here!
  • I knew there had to be something bad in store... too many happy chapters recently!

    Anyway, loved this chapter too... it shifted from silly (with the Hulk lipbalm) to peaceful and loving to thrilling, and I can't wait to see the next part.
    Lucky for me, I'm just back from my weekend, so I shouldn't have to wait for long.

    And yes, this fic IS eating me alive!!
  • You are so mean! Cliffhangers should be banned. *pouts*

    Haven't felt this invested in a fic since Xanthe's 24/7 and that was back when House was still in Med School. Well, OK, not quite that long ago, but you get the idea :)

    Sits n waits for the next part...
  • House catching sight of Martin on the bench was like a nightmare of the worst kind, where you're sure you're awake and in reality and suddenly It All Goes Horribly Wrong and you're filled with this overwhelming terror. *shiver* Except it was real. I'm so impressed with how calm he managed to stay, calm enough not to tip off Wilson that something was wrong. And Wilson -- I don't know whether to be happy because keeping the information from him means he can rest easy, or worried because he doesn't know that Martin's in town and he should be on the alert (not that there's much he could do about it).
  • "You thank'n me now?" (Hee!)
    "Two blocks takes it out of you, hmm?" House observes and stretches his right leg out a little. (Rubbing it in just a little more.)
    Wilson giggled, sounding like that muffled-up kid on South Park. (I can totally hear this. And thanks for addressing the morning-after awkwardness.)
    I love all of Wilson's expressive little sounds and faces and how easily House interprets them.
    But eep! the plot thickens! How can I possibly stop reading here?
  • NOOOOOO it was going so nicely and then... noooo :( I'm glad Wilson didn't see him!
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