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Bad Company

Aftershocks 44.1: A Pleasure Suspended



Aftershocks 44.1: A Pleasure Suspended

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TITLE: Aftershocks: A Story in Shattered Pieces
SUMMARY: Maybe it's time for an experiment.
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 Pleasure Suspended

Wilson sits on the toilet, his towel falling from its wrap to drape loosely over his thighs. He braces both elbows on his knees and revels in the fact that he doesn't need the damn shower sling anymore. Instead, he regards his newest molded plastic hand brace curiously.

Tomlinson has been putting his left hand in different custom-molded braces for weeks now. She'd said it was to improve his chances at regaining full range of motion with his fingers. This new one is comfortable, but for the first time Wilson wonders what the techs were thinking when they molded it.

His fingers and thumb are curled gently inwards, resulting in a loose fist. A...potentially lewd loose fist, if one looks at it from the right angle.

When he'd burned the therapist's card, he had expected to feel...something. Less directionless, maybe, or healed, somehow. Instead he's felt...not much. He rubs at his lips and frowns, thinking that maybe it's time for an experiment.

Wilson has tried masturbating with his right hand a few times in his life, and they had almost always been unsatisfactory experiences. Lately, he'd had no desire to even try, let alone try right-handed. But now...

The plastic brace is smooth, but not the kind of smooth that will easily glide over skin. He needs something to go between—a washcloth? Too rough. Wilson grins when his eyes light on the shower sling, hanging on the back of the door. Perfect, so long as he doesn't look at the damned thing.

After a moment he's settled back on the toilet seat, spandex in place and ready to start. He leans back against the tank and looks up at the ceiling so he doesn't have to see that awful fabric.

He tries rubbing gently at first, just to see if the physical stimulation will be enough. When that doesn't get a response, he starts calling up some of his favorite fantasies: his first wife Elen, with her long red hair and naughty outfits. Cuddy, in nothing but her fuck-me shoes. Aeryn Sun, with leather and guns and growling orders in his ear.

This is working—he's swelling, growing into the space created by the curl of his braced fingers, responding as always. He smiles, half in pleasure and half in relief. In his mind Elen kneels in front of him, her hair brushing his knees as she moves to wrap her full lips around him. He closes his eyes and sighs.

The darkness takes him.

Suddenly it isn't Elen kneeling in front of him; he can't see but he knows she's gone, replaced by someone else. He can't see but maybe he catches a flash of colorless silver eyes looking up at him through the blackness. He hears nothing but his own ragged breath; tastes blood and silk and feels an encouraging little pat on the hip.

He swallows hard, swallowing a scream, as he sits forward and opens his eyes. The budding erection is gone. He throws the sling in the corner and drops his head against his hands. He doesn't know how long he sits, trembling, staring at the bathroom floor.

If ever you were going to let yourself cry, Jimmy, he thinks, now would be a good time.
  • Poor Jimmy. Will he ever confide fully in House?

    I can't help but wonder if this is going to take a slash turn. I've been wondering it from the start. It doesn't matter to me either way. The friendship aspect is quite enough.

  • Oh. Oh, Wilson.

    Just trying to feel something.

  • I'd really appreciate someone breaking Martin's kneecaps right now. Any takers?
    • Only if I get to do it with a brick.
      • I'd much rather do it with a metal bat.

        Then break other parts of his body with it.
        • Hell, we could have a party. BYO blunt instrument of choice.
          • I'll bring a lead pipe. :)
            • Oo! And I'll bring the methylated spirits to pour on the wounds

              Good times.
              • Good heavens, but y'all are violent!

                I blame the media.

                • don't forget the icepick for the spine!

                  yes, it's the media's fault for putting the ideas in our heads. but it's martin's fault for making us want to use them!
                  • Is it wrong that I've got plans to hurt rapists in special ways?
                    First, sledgehammer to the hip so that they can't run. Maybe break their hands too, or just keep them bound.
                    Then... start off with a jeweller's hammer, working from the cheekbones all the way down to the tips of their toes.

                    Alright. So perhaps I hold a little too much of a grudge.
  • *cuddle pile on Wilson*

    Unless he doesn't want to be touched! In which case *gives wide berth*
  • Damn that's the thing about sexual assault, it robs the victim of one of life's most basic pleasures. Just when Wilson is feeling safe and cared for, the MF from hell comes to roost. Oh how I hate Martin.

    If Wilson ever shares all that happened with House, I wonder what House would do to get him over the hump - belittle him, share his favorite hooker or porno vid, or maybe replace his image with Martin's. And would Wilson even allow that sort of touch even if he understood that it was only House giving back a small piece of what had been violently stolen from him.
    • Wilson already did make it clear to House what Martin had done to him. It was way back in 16.4: Land Mines.

      What House did was go temporarily berserk and break stuff.

    • Opps!! it's not me. It's my memory. Given the fact that Wilson has already shared the details, it will be interesting to see how Wilson re-establishes his previously happy and fulfilling relationship with his private parts :)
    • "What House did was go temporarily berserk and break stuff."

      And looking back, that probably was extremely "therapeutic" for Wilson, seeing House letting loose all that rage for him, something Wilson couldn't do for himself (especially not physically). It seems less likely that House can help Wilson unleash his tears, though. Although it's easier for House to express (instead of repress) his feelings when he is feeling them on behalf of Wilson.

      Poor, poor Jimmy. He feels so much better now, physically and mentally, he is healing, he's not panicking or hallucinating or anything, and Martin is still there in his head. That has got to be awful, feeling so defenseless.
  • Ugh, so sad. Poor Wilson. :(
  • (Anonymous)
    Okay, so I just stumbled upon this entire wonderful fic this morning. I have now spent almost my entire day completely wrapped up in it. You guys are amazing!! I am completely enthralled with this story! Can't wait to see what happens next...
  • I love this whole story. I discovered it a few weeks ago and I went back and skimmed through the entire series. I've been reading the updates avidly ever since. The last three chapters have been pitch-perfect, word for word. Last chapter's hug was gorgeously written, and this - guh. Just guh. Getting new updates of this story has seriously become a highlight of my day.
    • Yes. It has become the highlight of pretty much everybody's day. And you know what, the evil, I mean seriously evil writers have threatened to end the most perfect H/W ficverse EVAR!!!

  • Ha, he's a Farscape fan! :)

    Aw... Poor him, though. Maybe we could call Aeryn up to come and kick Martin's arse? Then it'd be both gratifying and hot at the same time!
  • I could bring the rats - remember the 'head cage' in Orwells' 1984? They could chew Martin bit by bit...

    ~shivers suddenly at how nasty I can be given the right circs~

    Cry Jimmy...cry if you need to. We're all here ready with soft things and cuddles for you after. Or space. Whatever you need.
  • This was so good. I was wondering when this was going to come up...no pun intended. It had been so long and I was actually wondering about this. However, Wilson is on a lot of meds. You did it again. So many different emotions. It started light and then as I read "catches a flash of colorless silver eyes looking up at him" my stomach started to curl. As if that wasn't enough, total frustration at the end. Wow! Poor Jimmy indeed. :(
  • you guys are so mean to Jimmy!!!!
    .....i love it.
    ugh, that last line is just....ugh. you guys have to stop emotionally tearing me apart right before Spanish class like this, people are starting to wonder about me....
    excellent guys, most excellent.
  • This is just as I imagine Wilson is in the scenes from the show that we don't get to see -- slyly devious, physical, vulnerable, and repressing deep emotions. I just get such a strong sense of his character here, but I can't really put it into words!!!

    I love him, even though he is in such anguish :-(
  • I remember reading this back in the day and just aching for Wilson. As if the sustained beating weren't enough, Martin had to touch Wilson himself and ruin this whole other facet of his life, probably for a long, long time. Argh. This continues to prove that Martin is quite cunning and lovably detestable.
  • Oh God :( No, Wilson!!! *hugs him and gives him naked photos of Cuddy to help* Better yet, let Amber coexist in this 'verse, I'm sure she'd be glad to help out ;)
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