Head in the Clouds

Blizzard!

Wed, 12 Mar 2008 03:10:51 GMT

Okay, so there was suppose to be a progression of pictures showing how high the snow was, down to the pictures you see here. However, my fiance insisted we use his camera, and these were the only ones that came out. LOL! I thought I'd post them anyway. Fun! Fun! Fun!

And just for laughs:

Ah, Crap! (Or Why You Never Let Your Brother Borrow the Car)

Thu, 14 Feb 2008 05:50:59 GMT

Road icy. Car go boom. Big Ouchy. (No serious injury. Just a headache for all of us.)

New Fic! "Bella"

Wed, 13 Feb 2008 07:25:47 GMT

Title: "Bella"
Author: Aphrodite Roslin
Pairing: House/Wilson Strong Friendship
Rating: R for a couple naughty words
Warnings: Mega!Angst, Minor Character Death
Summary: After a tragedy, some people lose all faith while others' faith grows even stronger. House may be an atheist, but he isn't without his reasons.
Disclaimer: I own only the original fiction characters. Everything else I can only wish I had.

“Kind of busy right now, House,” Wilson sighed as his friend burst through his office door.

“You’re never too busy for Chinese take-out,” House smirked as he tossed two bags of food on top of Wilson’s paperwork. The younger man took a deep breath and counted to three in his head before laying his pen down and leaning back in his chair.

“See? I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist,” House said smugly as he sat down on the opposite side of his friend and began pulling the food out of the bags.

“You seriously need to learn how to knock before you enter a room,” Wilson replied as he began doing the same.

“Can’t. It ruins the surprise,” House grinned as he stuffed half of an egg roll into his mouth.

“Lovely,” Wilson rolled his eyes.

“Jealous,” House mumbled through his food.

“So, how’s the divorce going? Mrs. Wilson the 1^st still getting the house?” the older doctor questioned after swallowing his food, purely to torment his companion.

“It isn’t going at all. I haven’t heard from her in months. It’s like she disappeared into thin air.”

“Maybe it isn’t your baby she’s carrying, and she’s trying to hide the evidence. Multi-racial baby born to the whitest Jews on the planet doesn’t tend to get mommy a lot of money in the settlement,” House deadpanned.

“Cut it out. If there’s one thing I know about Carrie, it’s that she would never cheat,” Wilson admonished.

“Oh, that’s right! Cheating is your area of expertise!” House shoved the other half of the egg roll into his mouth, and Wilson’s pager buzzed as if on cue. “Whaddist?” House mumbled over the egg roll.

“It’s Carrie! She’s here! She’s in labor! Come on!” Wilson jumped from his seat, urging House to follow.

“But I haven’t read my fortune cookie yet!” House whined as Wilson dragged him from the room by his arm.

“We talked about this. Carrie wants you to deliver the baby,” Wilson reminded him as they sped toward the elevator.

“I know, but why?” House continued to whine.

“I have no idea,” Wilson threw his arms up in emphasis. “The woman hates you, but she also trusts you.” He pressed 3, and the elevator took off.

“Yeah, but I only hate her. I have no other emotion with which to work with as motivation for helping your soon-to-be ex push out a tiny little screaming bag of goo.”

“Okay, if not for Carrie, than do it for me. I know I can trust you because if anything goes wrong, I know where you live,” Wilson made an attempt to give House one of his own smirks, but his anxiety wouldn’t quite allow it to happen. House excepted it anyway.

“Fine, but I’m not going to enjoy it,” House declared as the elevator doors opened on the Maternity Ward.

“Good. That’s my wife’s crotch you’re going to be staring at for the next few hours!” Wilson said quietly now that there were so many people around.

“Ex-wife,” House emphasized.

“Not yet,” Wilson said almost under his breath. “Here. Room 317.” He told House as he grabbed the door handle and turned.

“Who called him?” Carrie Wilson shouted as James entered the room.

“I did,” Dr. Cuddy told her.

“Well, tell him to get the fuck out of here!” Carrie screamed as Cuddy made her way over to the two men.

“What are you doing here?” House asked from his place in the corridor.

“The nurses called me in. They said a pregnant woman came in behaving erratically. She was yelling nonsense and throwing blunt objects at the staff. She also refused to let any doctor near her except you, House,” the Dean of Medicine replied.

“What? Why me? She doesn’t even like me a little.”

“It could have something to do with the fact that she’s stoned out of her mind,” Cuddy suggested.

“What?” Wilson practically yelled.

“I’m so sorry, James,” Cuddy put a hand on his arm. “I didn’t mean to tell you like that. She’s just been so…Look, we’re not certain, but we’re almost positive she’s been doing cocaine.” Wilson nearly crumpled where he stood, but one hand from Cuddy and House each kept him upright.

“You’re telling me that my pregnant wife is a drug addict,” Wilson stated more than questioned.

“We don’t know that,” Cuddy replied. “For all we know, this could be the first time she’s ever tried anything.” Everyone knew she was lying, but they said nothing.

“Where the fuck is House? I want him here now! Tell him to get this thing out of me now!” Carrie screamed from her bed. She was ignored.

“Wait a minute. The baby’s early. How early? I can’t believe I didn’t think of this! I…”

“The baby’s around two months early,” Cuddy confirmed. “That’s a viable age. I don’t think you need to worry about that. What you need to worry about is bracing yourself for the possibility that…”

“My baby could be born an addict,” Wilson finished for her. Cuddy nodded grimly. Feeling the bile building up in his throat, the oncologist bolted for the restroom. House made a move to follow him, but Cuddy stopped him.

“Don’t. I’ll check on him. You go take care of business before Carrie has an aneurysm.” House nodded reluctantly, and they went their separate ways.

________________________________________________________________________

Early the next morning, the hospital felt like a ghost town. Most of the patients were still sleeping, snug in their standard issue fabric that was passed off as sheets. Even the babies in the Maternity Ward were quiet. It was strange really, as if the infants could sense the slow rupturing of the oversized heart that beat reluctantly in the NICU. The world was standing still as it would only do for one man.

Making his way into the room as silently as possible, House slowly approached the man in the rocking chair at the back of the room. In the man’s arms lay a small child. Too small for such a big world. The incubator next to the pair had a thin paper sign taped to it with the words “Baby Girl Wilson” etched neatly on its surface, and House thought briefly how sad it would be to die without a name.

“Carrie’s gone,” he spoke softly but directly. There was no point in sugarcoating anymore.

“Good,” James replied in an even softer tone. “At least she saved one life.” The statement was vague, but House understood and was suddenly glad that the bitch had slithered away. Wilson wouldn’t survive a day in prison.

“Bella doesn’t have much longer,” Jimmy all but whispered.

“Bella?” House questioned.

“Yeah. It suits her, don’t you think?” Wilson smiled. House gave as much of a grin as he could muster as he gazed at the sick child.

“You bet. It has a nice ring to it,” Greg agreed.

“I didn’t want her to leave without a name; without knowing she was loved,” James spoke tearfully. His friend put a hand on his shoulder.

“She knows, Jimmy.”

James nodded in agreement, silent tears streaming down his cheeks as he bit his bottom lip and stroked his daughter’s tiny face.

“You staying?” Wilson questioned softly, hope and desperation evident in his voice. Greg pulled up a seat next to his best and only friend.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assured him. And he didn’t.

For hours, the two men sat in silence, side by side. James rocked and sang to the child who laid much too still and silent in her father’s loving arms. Greg watched on from his own chair, feeling his friend’s pain as if it were his own. Soon this would all be over, and they would be back to being House and Wilson, Greg and Jimmy. They would be back where they started all those years ago, and the thought made House sick. He remembered how Wilson had grown and thrived after being told that he was going to be a father. James had always wanted a family, and his wish was finally coming true. And now this. This was a blow that House wasn’t sure his friend could bounce back from.

What do you say to someone who is sitting in front of you, rocking their dying newborn in their arms?

“It’s going to be okay, Jimmy,” House finally spoke. Wilson looked up for the first time in hours.

“No, Greg, it’s not,” he said bluntly before returning his gaze to Bella.

It was at that moment that Gregory House realized that the James Wilson he had known for so long was dead. And Zombie Wilson was right. Nothing was okay. Nothing would ever be okay again. Time kept ticking even as Bella’s heart no longer did. Wilson kept rocking and singing, even though the only person left to soothe was himself. And just outside the white-walled building, the sun was rising on a new day. While just inside, it had set for the last time.

________________________________________________________________________

Sister Augustine: Why is it so difficult for you to believe in God?

House: What I have difficulty with is the whole concept of belief. Faith isn’t based on logic and experience.

Sister Augustine: I experience God on a daily basis, and the miracle of life all around. The miracle of birth, the miracle of love. He is always with me.

House: Where is the miracle in delivering a crack-addicted baby? Hmmm? And watching her mother abandon her because she needs another score.
~ “Damned If You Do”
House, M.D.
Season 1 Episode 5

Desire 6/?

Fri, 24 Aug 2007 06:17:58 GMT

Author: Aphrodite Roslin
Book or TV: TV (I'm afraid I haven't even begun to read the series. I know, I lose at life :D)
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Bob, Harry, OFCs
Spoilers: Bob's a ghost!
Disclaimer: Jim Butcher owns The Dresden Files. Harry owns my soul. Bob owns my heart.
Summary: Harry Dresden wanted a little hired help. What he got was a whole world of trouble, courtesy of one beautiful strange young woman. And this time, he's in way over his head. (Okay, yeah, the summary's kind of corny and nondescriptive, but give it a shot please. It's my first story ever written for this fandom! :D)
Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait. I made this chapter extra long and juicy to make up for it. :D

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5

Harry Dresden hates surprises. At least he does now. Nothing good ever comes from them. So you can imagine his disdain when he awoke to find himself in an entirely strange place. The floors were wooden and very dusty, and the walls were the most boring shade of brown it had ever been the wizard’s displeasure to gaze upon. The rest of the room seemed empty as far as he could tell, apart from one solitary, navy blue chair. This wasn’t right. The last thing he remembered was falling asleep under that creepy willow tree. How the hell did he get here…wherever here was?

“Harry?” a familiar voice spoke softly yet urgently in his ear. He knew that tone; he just couldn’t picture the owner.

“Wake up!” the voice said more loudly this time as a hand connected sharply with his face.

“Aw! What the hell are you doing?” Harry complained, grabbing his sore cheek as he slowly sat up.

“Waking you,” the voice answered. Blinking a few times to clear his vision, Harry gradually focused on the face in front of him.

“Sera? What’s going on? How’d we get here? Where is here?” Dresden questioned rapidly. Sera held up one hand to silence him.

“I’m sorry, Dresden, but it had to be done,” the sorceress replied vaguely, her voice no longer the sweet American-made tone he’d come to know and love.

“Uh, what had to be done? And what’s up with the new accent? Planning a trip?” This earned him a prompt smack across the face. “What was that for?”

“Your idiocy. Someone has to knock it out of you,” Sera glared. “And the accent to which you were referring is mine. It took me years to perfect your American way of speaking. It’s barbaric really. In a few short centuries you imbeciles have managed to thoroughly butcher the English language. Honestly, I feel like washing out my mouth after every word I utter in your ridiculous inflection.”

“I’m confused,” Harry admitted after a long hesitation. Rolling her eyes, Sera stood from her position kneeling next to Harry and made her way over to a small, wooden table Dresden had had his back to. A sharp pang of fear and realization shot through the wizard at the site of what lay upon the table’s surface. There, placed delicately on a velvet cloth in the middle of the table, was a skull decorated in a sadistic display of ancient runes.

“Come out, please,” Sera spoke softly, the arrogant air to her voice seemed to have faded ever so slightly as she spoke to the spirit within.

There was a flash of orange and red light as the ghost materialized before them. Taking a moment, Bob gave the appearance of stretching his cramped limbs. Sera watched wordlessly as the former sorcerer gave their surroundings the once over before his eyes slowly came to rest on the man on the floor.

“Harry, are you all right?” the spirit questioned with a worried look in his eyes. Typical Bob, always thinking of him first.

“Yeah, Bob, I’m fine. You?” Harry replied, trying to appear casual.

“Still dead,” Bob nodded. “Did she hurt you?”

“Only my pride for now,” Dresden smirked. Bob gave him a relieved grin in return.

“I hate to break up what looks like a wonderfully touching moment between skull and boy, but we don’t have much time,” Sera spoke loud and clear, her tone demanded complete attention. Both men’s heads snapped around to face her.

“Okay, Sera, or whoever you are, what the hell is going on here?” Harry demanded once more.

“We don’t have much time,” she reiterated. “My master will be here very soon, but I wanted a chance to speak with you before he ended this,” Sera explained.

“Ends what? What master? Sera…”

“Harry, stop it!” Sera scolded. The wizard did as he was told, not wanting to piss off someone who could set him on fire with their eyes. Instead, he watched as the woman approached his best friend, circling him like a lion to its prey.

“I couldn’t believe it when I first saw you, you know. You look so different,” Sera began speaking so softly that Harry had to strain to catch it all. “How long ago were you ordered to change your hair? It had to be fairly recent. I like it better long myself. It’s how I always remembered you.”

“Remembered me?” Bob ignored her questions, posing one of his own.

“Of course. I dream about you every night – your eyes, your smile, your voice, your touch, your scent – at times it was almost too much to bear. I’ve missed you so much,” Sera’s eyes filled with tears as she spoke, staring at Bob with a look of love and long deeper and more real than anything Harry had ever experienced. “Now you’re here. You’re right here in front of me, and I can’t even touch you.”

“Who are you?” Bob questioned nervously. Dresden had never seen his friend so agitated. Sera looked slightly hurt, but she hid the emotion swiftly.

“I suppose I should have expected this. After all, six-hundred years is a long time, isn’t it?” Sera gave a nervous laugh. Bob remained a stone wall. “My name isn’t Sera Bain exactly. I was born Seraphina of Bainbridge –” Bob’s resolve crumbled, her words bringing him instantly to near hysterics.

“No,” he whispered desperately, his eyes appearing glazed and unfocused on the wall to the right of the sorceress.

“- Daughter of Hrothbert and Winifred –”

“No. Stop this. You can’t be,” Bob continued to ramble under Sera’s increasingly loud explanation.

“- On the 20th day of the 9th month of the year one thousand, four hundred and three.”

“I said stop this!” Bob shouted, causing Sera to jump slightly and her speech to end rather abruptly. “You will stop this now! My child is dead! She is dead and so she has been for more than six hundred years! I held her in my arms as she drew her last breath! I dug her grave and laid her to rest with my own two hands! And I will not allow you to desecrate her memory with your lies!”

No longer able to contain herself, Sera burst into tears. Her cries were the most heart wrenching sound Harry had ever heard.

“No! No! You’re wrong! You’re child never died! You were deceived! She lived and so she does still, trapped in a punishment worse than any death!”

“I will not hear you! Stop this at once!” Bob continued to shout, the unshed phantom tears building to an impossible level in his eyes.

“I won’t! Father, please, you must recognize your own daughter!” Sera begged, her face now soaked with her own tears.

“My child is dead!” Bob refused to hear her, the overwhelming grief and horror now running freely down his nonexistent cheeks.

“I’m afraid you’re gravely mistaken about that, Master Hrothbert,” a new, seemingly disembodied voice echoed off the walls, cutting off any further interaction. All three heads turned toward the open door across the room and to their left. The silhouette of a tall, slender man was clearly visible from their positions.

“Master, I was –” Sera began, meaning to explain herself. Then suddenly the mysterious stranger was standing next to her, close enough to touch. Harry blinked a few times and shook his head. How the hell did he…he was just…

“No need to explain yourself, my dear,” the man whispered. Dresden could see his features fairly clearly now. There was nothing special about the guy. He was tall with a slender/medium build, brown hair, brown eyes, and a pair of very outdated circular spectacles. “After all, how could I expect you not to be excited. You haven’t seen your precious daddy in more than six hundred years. You have every right to damage what’s left of his fragile spirit in front of his boyfriend.” The man gave a crooked-toothed smirk that made Harry’s skin crawl and he gave a small, involuntary shudder.

“Ah, Mr. Dresden, why don’t you come on over and join the party?” the creepy new guy requested. Harry obliged immediately. He’d been itching to get to Bob’s side since Sera had begun upsetting him.

“Party, eh? If I’d known I would have brought some chips and dip,” the wizard attempted bad humor as he moved to stand so near to his best friend that, had they both been corporeal, there shoulders would have been close enough to touch. He was ignored, however, as the creep only seemed interested in addressing Bob.

“I’m sorry, how rude of me to forget to introduce myself. My name is Jonas Belden. And I believe you’ve already met my lovely Seraphina. Don’t worry, there’s no need to introduce yourselves, I already know you both quite well. Isn’t that right, my dear?” Belden stroked one long finger down Sera’s right arm, and though she tried to hide it, Harry didn’t miss her flinch.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Belden continued, keeping up his perverse caresses. “It’s a shame how she turned out. Such a waste of such exquisite…power.”

“Look what is going on here?” Harry questioned, growing increasingly frustrated.

“Patience, Mr. Dresden. All will be explained. For now, just sit back and enjoy the show,” Belden smirked. Harry felt queasy.

“The show? That’s how you think of this, you sick son of a bitch?” the wizard demanded.

“Harry,” Sera warned quietly.

“No, I want to know just what the hell is going on here!” Harry directed his anger at her now. “You drug us into this! I trusted you!”

“Because I told you to,” the sorceress replied.

“What?”

“One of Seraphina’s many talents,” Jonas answered for her. “She can be quite the charmer if you don’t know what to watch out for. She may have her father’s eyes, but she most certainly inherited her mother’s allure.”

“You mean this whole thing…”

“Was a setup? I’m afraid so. But it’s not all bad news. The girl took much longer than usual to finish the job. I think she’s taken a liking to you,” Belden’s smirk never wavered. Sera kept her eyes intently focused on the ground.

“Now, where were we? Oh yes, the great Hrothbert of Bainbridge’s long lost child,” the creep continued. Bob stiffened once more. “You really did think she was dead, didn’t you?” Jonas gave an amused laugh.

“She is. She was sick. I sat at her bedside for seventeen days before the illness took her whilst Winifred worked day and night on something, anything to make her better,” Bob was practically screaming now.

“And when nighttime came you would lay in the bed with me and sing me lullabies. You always held onto me so tight, and I never wanted you to let go,” Sera cried quietly. “I hardly ever saw mother, but when I did she would bring me this strange potion. I can still taste it to this day. It was so bitter and putrid, but I drank it all because she said it would make me feel better. It never did, though. I just kept getting sicker.”

“A very clever and well organized story, but when you built the coffin and dug the grave in which you buried you’re only child with your bare hands, it takes more than a few crocodile tears to convince you that it was all a lie,” Bob attempted to speak stoically.

“Your lover betrayed you, Hrothbert,” Jonas continued Sera’s speech. “Winifred wasn’t trying to cure her sick baby. She was poisoning her on purpose; keeping her sick until the time was right, and the girl’s false death could be achieved.”

“Stop this. I won’t hear it. Winifred would do no such thing!” Bob interrupted.

“She waited until you were at your weakest and staged your daughter’s death,” Belden ignored him.

“All she ever wanted was a child! She would never do anything to harm her!” Bob insisted. Sera snorted.

“That is why she did it, father! The next time I woke up after my last night with you, I was in a carriage with mother. She told me I was going to live with a new family because living with the two of you wasn’t safe anymore. She knew something terrible was coming, and she was trying to save me from it. She just gave me away like a horse or a dog!”

“You lie!”

“I do not! I cried for you until the tears would no longer come! Every night I would lie awake for as long as I could waiting for you to come and take me home! But you never did! You never came for me!”

“You were dead!”

“And from what I understand, you have a very impressive talent for raising the dead,” Jonas interrupted once again. “So the real question is, why didn’t you revive your precious little girl whom you claim to have loved so much?”

“I did. Or I tried, rather. But Winifred –”

“She stopped you, didn’t she?” Belden questioned. “She talked you out of it? The two of you had a chance to have your sweet little girl back, and Winifred didn’t want it? Now why would she do something like that?”

“Bringing someone back from the dead would break one of the highest laws of magic,” Bob responded promptly. “She was protecting us as well as our daughter.”

“Maybe. Or maybe she didn’t want you to find out what she’d done. Maybe she wasn’t the beautiful saint that you want to believe she was,” the creep continued. This time, Bob made no protests. Instead, he simply stood there, lost in his thoughts.

“Winifred, she…had a garden. Our daughter, she loved to play there. Seraphina had a special name for it,” Bob spoke the unsaid question slowly, his eyes remaining focused on the stone floor beneath them.

“Amorwe,” Sera replied with fresh, unshed tears in her eyes. Bob’s entire body shook with the startled breath he took. “I called it that because the flowers were at their most beautiful in the early morning, while the dew was still on the ground. The garden seemed to come alive then. Mother even taught me this simple spell that would summon butterflies for me to play with. It was my favorite place in the entire world. You’d even give me lessons there if I pouted hard enough.”

Raising his eyes slowly, Bob began to move forward toward the girl. His movements were hesitant but also determined. Once he was face to face with her, he raised his right hand with a question in his eyes. Understanding immediately, Sera nodded her head subtly, keeping her eyes locked with the spirit she called father. Having been granted permission, Bob delicately traced his nonexistent hand along the sorceress’s face. She shivered but gave him a sweet smile before he placed his hand gently inside her chest. Harry wasn’t sure what was going on, but whatever it was brought the once all-powerful sorcerer to his knees.

“Oh, dear God,” he whispered, nearly sobbing once again. “It is you.”

“Yes, father,” Sera nodded, the fresh tears now spilling down her cheeks.

“But how…?”

“A very good question, my lord,” that extremely annoying man interrupted once more. “You see, in Sera’s case the apple did not fall far from the tree. In fact, your sweet little girl became everything you did and so much more.”

Bob stood as the man spoke. Sera slowly backed away from her father’s ghost ever so slightly.

“I’m not sure I understand,” the spirit replied.

“Oh, Seraphina was a very bad girl in her last mortal years, weren’t you darling?” Jonas told him vaguely. “Why don’t you enlighten our new friends?” Sera didn’t move. “That was not a request. That was a command!”

“I…I was never happy with my new family,” Sera began slowly, keeping her eyes focused on the ground. “I already told you how I set my new sister’s dress on fire. It wasn’t an accident. We didn’t get along. I was a freak. They had no magic and only kept me because of the threats my mother made to them were any harm to befall me. But I lived. I learned to control my abilities through stolen literature and shear force of will. I married, and I had a son.” Sera chanced looking up for a moment.

“I named him for you, father. He looked just like you,” Bob gave no reaction, and Sera returned her gaze to the ground. “My husband had the gift as well. It was quite the relief to be with someone who understood what I was. And our son began to display his future talents at the age of four. He was so beautiful.” Sera hesitated for a long moment.

“Get on with it!” Belden ordered. Sera obeyed.

“Then my husband started leaving without warning. Sometimes he would be one for days and offer no sort of explanation to where he had gone. So one day, I followed him. I followed him directly to my self-righteous little sister’s home. I saw them through the window. They were fucking like animals! I just…I couldn’t contain myself! I had never felt such absolute rage! And I…my son…he was only seven…and I…” The woman stopped, her face wet with tears once more.

“Don’t worry, my dear. I won’t make you explain what you did next,” Jonas smirked once more. “Would either of you care to guess?”

“Why are you doing this, you bastard?” Harry finally spoke up. “Is this fun for you? Torturing innocent people do something for you?”

“Innocent people? These people who stand before us are anything but innocent, Mr. Dresden. Would you care to venture a guess as to what this pretty little thing did to her husband and her adopted sister whilst the sister’s children slept in the next room?” Belden’s smirk never failed. If anything, it grew.

“No. You’re just going to tell us anyway,” Dresden responded.

“She set them on fire,” the creep nearly laughed. “She burned them alive, and not quickly I might add. It was a slow, agonizing death ignited in the heat of passion. And guess where your girlfriend started. You got it, on the very extremity that was used to betray her. The sister’s five-year-old daughter walked in and found them screaming and melting. Now tell me, Mr. Dresden, does that sound like the actions of an innocent woman?”

“Sera?” Harry turned to the woman who raised her eyes to his in return. “Is this true?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “And you’re a good person, Harry, so I know you’ll try to find the good in this, but don’t waste your time. I’m not like you. I’m not a good person. I killed my husband and sister while her children watched, and I would do it again given the chance. I burned in my own private hell for five hundred years, and I would still do it again.”

“What?” a very confused Harry Dresden continued.

“Ah, yes. Punishment was a bit steeper back in the day, wasn’t it?” Belden began, obviously enjoying every moment of this sickness. “The high council saw fit to punish young Miss Seraphina by doing unto her as she had done unto them. She was cursed with immortality, so she can never die nor age even a single day, then placed in a prison of magical fire. The flames ate her slowly to the bone then allowed her to regenerate over and over again for nearly five hundred years. The punishment was to be for ten centuries, but my great great grandfather devoted his entire life to finding her prison and find it he did. He freed her and bound her to this silver locket.” Belden reached behind Bob’s skull on the table and lifted the item in question for all to see.

“Her power belongs to us now. It has been passed on from eldest child to eldest child until it finally came to me, and my plans could finally be set into motion.”

“You enslaved her to gain access to her power?” Bob questioned with a dangerous look on his face.

“That’s right. Very clever on my grandfather’s part. At first the High Council wasn’t very pleased, but once they were able to examine her leash, they felt his work was adequate to keep control over her. And knowing my family as they do, it was obvious that being our little slave girl would be enough punishment in itself. Isn’t that right, sweet heart?” Jonas laughed as he shoved his hand roughly up Sera’s blouse, causing her to let out a startled sob.

“Stop that!” Bob demanded. Jonas adopted a dangerous look of his own. Removing his hand from the woman’s shirt, he stomped over until he was nose to nose with the pissed off spirit.

“I don’t take orders from ghosts,” Belden spat. “Seraphina! It’s time!”

Meet Bob the Llama! My Muse! :D

Mon, 13 Aug 2007 05:30:14 GMT

adopt your own virtual pet!

Wed, 08 Aug 2007 04:52:38 GMT

Check out the video my sister made for me! Hot, no? (It looks much better on YouTube. :D)

We made this one together. There's a little Terrence Mann at the end, but only for a second. It also looks much better on the actual YouTube site. :D

Desire 5/?

Fri, 20 Jul 2007 04:06:34 GMT

Author: Aphrodite Roslin
Book or TV: TV (I'm afraid I haven't even begun to read the series. I know, I lose at life :D)
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Bob's a ghost!
Disclaimer: Jim Butcher owns The Dresden Files. Harry owns my soul. Bob owns my heart.
Summary: Harry Dresden wanted a little hired help. What he got was a whole world of trouble, courtesy of one beautiful strange young woman. And this time, he's in way over his head. (Okay, yeah, the summary's kind of corny and nondescriptive, but give it a shot please. It's my first story ever written for this fandom! :D)
Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait. I've been sick for the past week and haven't been able to post. I'm mostly better now, so here's the next chapter. It has a point, I promise! :D

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4

You know that feeling you sometimes get after leaving your house with the coffee pot still running or the stove still burning? You know you forgot something, but you just can’t put your finger on what it is. Well, that’s something like how Harry Dresden was feeling. Something was off. He’d forgotten something, or something was missing. He just couldn’t place what it was. The apartment was quiet – much too quiet. Makes sense for a man living on his own with not but a cat to keep him company when he’d had a slow night. However, Dresden couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. Or someone perhaps?

“Harry? Are you all right up there? Did you lose something?” his newest lover’s voice practically sang from downstairs.

“Nah, I’m fine, Sera. Sorry. I’ll be right down,” he replied with a smile. He loved the sound of her voice. It made whatever was wrong with his world seem to disappear. Everything seemed better…brighter when she was around. Maybe this was what love felt like?

“Well, come on then, cutie! We’ve got a date with the most beautiful tree in the park!” Sera almost giggled as she spoke excitedly from her place by the front door. Suddenly excited by the idea of spending a warm, sunny afternoon with his red-haired beauty, Harry instantly forgot about his query and rushed to meet said woman at the front door.

“Shall we?” Sera smiled as Dresden stole a short kiss.

“We shall,” he smirked back. This was shaping up to be one very good day.

“Here it is!” Sera shouted giddily as they made their way to a relatively vacant area of the small park.

“This is your idea of the most beautiful tree in the park?” Harry questioned light-heartedly as he gave the large aging tree the once over. Sera’s smile wavered only slightly.

“Well, I know it lacks a certain conventional beauty, but I’ve always had a soft spot for weeping willows,” she explained, stepping under the branches and placing her right hand on the trunk. “When I was a little girl, my mother use to take me out into the garden every evening an hour before sundown. She had the most magnificent willow standing proud right in the middle of her flower garden. She told me he protected all the smaller plants from harm.” Sera gave a small giggle at her own words before continuing. “She use to sit under his strong branches with me and read fantastic tales from her book collection, or, if I begged her enough, tell me stories about herself and my father before my arrival. Ever since she died these trees have been a comfort to me. Ridiculous, right?”

For a moment, Dresden said nothing. He’d been concentrating on watching his lover’s movements as she spoke and stroked the willow almost reverently. Only when his mind caught up to the words that were being spoken did he realize it was his time to speak.

“It’s not ridiculous,” Harry finally replied, his voice filled with confidence and assurance. “It’s not ridiculous at all.” Sera giggled once more.

“I have a sneaking suspicion that you’re only saying that to get back into my pants as quickly as possible,” she smirked.

“Well, that sneaking suspicion couldn’t be more wrong,” Harry smirked back, inching closer as he continued to speak. “Loving something that connects you to someone you love couldn’t be any farther from ridiculous. You see this?” Dresden held out his left wrist for Sera to see.

“A shield bracelet?” she questioned with wonder in her shimmering green eyes.

“I wear this everyday not only because it keeps me safe, but because my mother left it to me. Now every time this thing saves my life, it makes me feel like she’s been watching over me and she was the one who saved me. It makes me feel closer to the woman I never got the chance to know. So, if you ask me, your love for these old trees is anything but ridiculous.” Harry hesitated, leaning in close to the redhead’s flawless face before continuing with a smirk. “Plus I really do like the idea of getting back into those pants.” Sera gave a forced gasp of shock, giving Dresden a playful smack on the arm before he swooped down for a deep kiss.

“Within the hour, if possible,” Harry continued devilishly. Sera let out a much louder laugh and squealed, pushing Harry away and turning to run around the willow tree. Smiling, Harry followed with the same playful speed, jogging around the tree over and over again. He peaked around the trunk back and forth while watching as she did the same in an attempt to allude capture, giggling like a schoolgirl all the while. It was almost enough to make a man as full of testosterone as Harry Dresden do the same.

After a few more rounds of ring around the big scary tree, Sera finally slipped, giving Harry just enough time to run up and grab her from behind. Unfortunately, this meant stepping in the same patch of mud that had caused to woman to stumble in the first place, inevitably leading to Dresden’s abrupt backwards descent. Sera, still having been snagged by the wizard behind her, promptly joined him in the mildly muddy grass. Both Sera and Harry laughed as they hit the ground, more out of relief that they were both still in one piece than anything.

“Okay! Okay. I give,” Sera relented breathlessly.

“I thought so,” Harry laughed. “That’s why you don’t mess with the best.”

“Oh, and I suppose you think you’re the best?” Sera questioned, turning in Dresden’s arms enough to face him.

“It just so happens I do,” the wizard smirked, trying to get a reaction.

“Yeah? Well, we’ll just have to see about that,” Sera smirked back, attempting to rise, but Dresden immediately pulled her back down.

“Oh, I think that can wait until later, don’t you?” he questioned as he rolled gently on top on the sorceress, kissing her deeply. Sera responded only for a moment before pushing him back slightly.

“Mr. Dresden, there are children present. You wouldn’t want them walking in on us now would you?” she asked playfully.

“Hey, they’ve gotta learn sometime,” he grinned, kissing her again.

“Okay, you’ve got me there, but prison isn’t exactly my ideal ending to a romantic date. So let’s keep all the touching PG and the clothes on,” Sera continued.

“Well you’re just no fun at all,” Harry pouted.

“Awe, poor baby. You’re not gonna tell on me are you?” Sera mocked with a fake pout of her own.

“I guess I’ll give you a break this time,” Harry sighed dramatically. “Besides, who would I tell anyway?”

“I don’t know. That kitty of yours looked pretty viscous,” Sera laughed.

“He can be a handful if you make him mad enough,” Harry grinned.

“Oh, well I certainly don’t want that,” Sera said in feigned horror.

“Miss Bain, not even the baddest of the bad want to mess with Mister,” Harry agreed. “That cat strikes fear into the hearts of angels and demons alike.” Sera laughed loudly.

“Oh, Harry, I haven’t had this much fun in years!” she exclaimed, leaning up to give him a short kiss. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” the man grinned, rolling slowly back onto his back. The willow’s branches blocked out any hope of watching the clouds, but both wizards stared upward anyway, letting out simultaneous sighs of contentment.

“So, you’ve told me the whereabouts of your mother, but what about your dad? I’d like to meet the man responsible for creating a creature like you,” Dresden commented with laughter in his voice. Sera promptly smacked him across the chest.

“Hey, now! Just because I let you fondle my ass, doesn’t mean that I won’t kick yours!” she warned, trying and succeeding in keeping the smile off her face. “And, yes, my daddy is still out there somewhere, but good luck finding him. He disappeared off the face of the earth, and I don’t expect we’ll be seeing him any time soon.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Harry questioned curiously.

“He doesn’t even know I exist. He’d have no reason to come looking for a daughter he doesn’t know he has, and frankly I’m not sure I’m even interested in finding him anymore,” the woman explained.

“I’m sorry,” Dresden told her seriously.

“Don’t be,” Bain grinned. “You can’t miss what you’ve never had.”

“Sure you can,” Harry begged to differ. Sera said nothing. “Do you even know his name?”

“Yeah, uh, his name is Robert. Robert Bain,” Sera answered awkwardly. “I actually came to Chicago because I heard he might be in the area, but I found you instead.”

“Well maybe I can help you find him,” Harry volunteered.

“No, that’s okay. To tell you the truth, I’m glad I didn’t keep searching for him,” Sera explained. “I thought I was ready to see him again, but now I –”

“Wait. What do you mean ‘see him again’? I thought he didn’t know about you,” said a very confused Dresden.

“He doesn’t, but I’ve met him. Look, it’s complicated, Harry. Can we please change the subject?” the sorceress stumbled.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just curious is all,” Harry took her left hand in his right.

“It’s okay. I understand,” Sera grinned that beautiful grin of hers. Then, inexplicably, that strange sense of worry overtook Dresden once again. Something was wrong. Frowning, the wizard looked up to meet his lover’s sparkling green eyes, and the feeling intensified.

“Harry, what is it? What’s wrong?” questioned the extremely concerned redhead.

“I’m not sure. I just have this strange feeling that I’ve forgotten something,” he replied distractedly.

“Like what? The coffeepot’s off. I made sure before we left. Twice. Never making that mistake again,” Sera laughed nervously.

“No no, that’s not it. I…I can’t place it, but I know it’s important. It’s been driving me crazy for the past few days. I don’t get it. I…”

“Harry, listen to me,” Sera interrupted gently yet sternly. “Nothing is wrong. I don’t know why you’ve been having these feelings, but I promise you there is nothing to worry about.” Harry hesitated, looking Sera directly in the eyes for a long drawn out moment, and suddenly he knew she was right.

“Okay,” he agreed almost too quietly for her to hear.

“All right,” she said, running a hand through his hair. “Now, I might happen to know this little spell that might have the ability to keep us hidden from anyone else’s sight for say forty-five minutes. Think you can make it worth my while, champ?” Shaking himself internally, Harry forced his concerns to the back of his mind. Taking Sera’s head in his hands, he pulled her in for a long gentle kiss.

“Mm, I’ll take that as a yes then?” the sorceress questioned with a giggle. For a moment Harry said nothing, but simply pulled his lover back over to him, capturing her lips once more.

“I’d get started if I were you,” he suggested as they came up for air. Sera giggled and began working her magic.

“Sera,” Dresden interrupted quietly. “I love you.” For a moment, the woman hesitated, staring into Harry’s eyes for a long anxious moment. Then she smiled.

“I love you too.”

Desire 4/?

Sun, 24 Jun 2007 06:25:55 GMT

Title: Desire
Author: Aphrodite Roslin
Book or TV: TV (I'm afraid I haven't even begun to read the series. I know, I lose at life :D)
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Bob's a ghost!
Disclaimer: Jim Butcher owns The Dresden Files. Harry owns my soul. Bob owns my heart.
Summary: Harry Dresden wanted a little hired help. What he got was a whole world of trouble, courtesy of one beautiful strange young woman. And this time, he's in way over his head. (Okay, yeah, the summary's kind of corny and nondescriptive, but give it a shot please. It's my first story ever written for this fandom! :D)
Author's Note: This chapter is only about half the size of its predecessors, but it's important nonetheless. The next chapter should be a lot thicker! Thanks everyone! :D

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3

“Harry?” a soft voiced questioned through the fog in Dresden’s still sleeping mind. The wizard gave a small questioning moan in response, rolling over to face the direction in which the voice was coming from.

“Harry wake up,” the soft voice continued, but the tone was so soothing that it tempted the man to fall right back into dreamland.

“Dresden, open your eyes this instant!” the voice demanded harshly and considerably louder. Harry started awake, unprepared for the gruff command. Opening his eyes quickly, Dresden started again as he found himself face to face with a very troubled looking ghost.

“Jesus, Bob! You almost scared the piss outta me!” he sighed, letting his head fall back to the pillow. Remembering that he wasn’t suppose to be alone in his bed, Harry glanced curiously to the other side only to find it empty.

“Don’t let yourself feel too inadequate, she’s downstairs making you breakfast,” Bob answered his unspoken question hastily.

“What are you doing in my bedroom anyway?” Dresden questioned, a little edgy from the rude awakening, and more than a little nervous at being completely naked within a few feet from his mentor.

“My skull’s still in the backpack you dropped over there whilst you were so gracefully seducing Miss Bain,” Bob replied tersely, a hint of annoyance creeping into his tone.

“Sorry about that, but she was the one who seduced me. I was just along for the ride,” Harry defended.

“Right, Harry, we really don’t have time for this,” Bob sounded very antsy for some reason which peeked the wizard’s curiosity.

“What’s gotten you so edgy?” he asked inquisitively.

“It’s about your newest toy,” Bob began.

“You finally ready to tell me why you’ve been acting so weird around Sera?” Harry pressed gently, not wanting to change his friend’s mind. Bob hesitated. “Who is she, Bob? Who does she look like? Why are you so scared of her?”

Bob opened his mouth to reply, but he was interrupted by Sera’s seemingly magical arrival into the room.

“Hey, boys! I trust we both had a nice night?” she smiled that smile of hers.

“Yes, wonderful. Thank you,” Harry replied with a stupid grin, almost instantly forgetting his conversation with Bob. Sera made her way over to the bed and placed the breakfast tray she held in her hands over Harry’s lap, sneaking a kiss in the process.

“Mm, when you’re finished, I’d make it a priority to brush those teeth,” she giggled. Harry blushed with embarrassment. Sera laughed again. “Oh, don’t be embarrassed! It’s a biological fact that you’re going to have bad breath in the morning. If I cared, I wouldn’t have kissed you. Now, eat up before it gets cold. And when you’re finished, I have the day all planned out for us.” Sera whispered her last sentence seductively in his ear before turning on her heels for the stairs.

Once she had gone, Harry snapped himself out of it and turned to continue his discussion with his ghost. However, Bob had already retreated back into his skull. Sighing at his missed opportunity, Harry picked up his fork and began eating.

“Come out, please,” a soft, feminine voice summoned Bob from his prison.

“Miss Bain,” he said with a hint of surprise in his voice. “A con artist and a thief. Impressive, if I do say so myself.”

“One has to know how to survive, but then you wouldn’t know anything about that would you ghost,” Sera smirked wickedly, her expression nothing like the sweet, kind faces she pulled for Harry. Bob ignored the jab.

“What do you want from us?” he questioned seriously, not liking the feeling this girl gave him.

“Cooperation,” she replied vaguely.

“To what end?”

“I came here with a purpose. You know this. Dresden is easy enough to distract from reality, but magical charm doesn’t work on the dead now does it?” the woman continued to speak as she fiddled with random objects lying about the office. Bob stood in place stoically, choosing not to answer until the situation was a bit clearer. “You were executed, damned, and enslaved once for trying to help someone you loved. Don’t make the same mistake twice.” Bob gave the appearance of shifting his weight, the potential meaning of the witch’s words chilling even him.

“What are you saying?” he asked slowly, a dangerous tone overtaking his voice.

“I’m saying that when the time comes for me to do what I came here to do, do not attempt to stop me. Harry Dresden isn’t worth your own destruction,” Bain’s tone had taken on a slightly different style. She seemed to be almost…begging him with her eyes. How strange. This certainly wasn’t normal behavior for a villain. Even so, her words were harsh, and they hit home hard.

“Do not endeavor to tell me what Harry Dresden is or is not worth, Miss Bain,” Bob began to advance on the young witch, who, even knowing full well that the ghost could do nothing to harm her, began backing away in time with his steps.

“If you try to save him, there will be nothing but darkness left for you. Your soul will be destroyed. There will be no afterlife, just unending nothingness,” Sera spoke in a threatening voice as she backed closer and closer to Harry’s once again untidy desk.

“That is a risk I am willing to take,” Bob told her as he continued his advance, anger still burning furiously somewhere within him. Sera stop her backward march as her butt met the desk with a painful thud.

“You would risk your total annihilation for one disorderly, mediocre, destitute, wanna be cop, nobody?” the witch questioned in disbelief. Bob’s only reply was his continued menacing glare. Sera let out a sound that could have just as easily been a laugh as a sigh before continuing.

“Fine,” the young woman said as she pushed herself off Harry’s desk, walking, nonchalantly, straight through Bob. “I was hoping we could avoid this, but you’ve made your choice. I’m sorry it came to this, but things have to be done, and I’m the only one that can do them. So, Bob, it’s been fun, but I’m afraid we won’t being seeing you again.”

Bob only had time to register a blinding flash of light before his world went dark. Sera smirked slightly as she made her way over to the necromancer’s skull, taking it gently in her hands so as to admire her handy work. Now that the only person who could stop her was out of the way, Harry Dresden was hers. Her master would be very pleased. Just one more and it’s over. One more soul and he would be satisfied. One more sacrifice and she would be free from this burden. Just one more.

Another Icon Attempt!

Thu, 07 Jun 2007 03:55:55 GMT

Well, I decided to go ahead and post these, even though clearly I have very little talent for this sort of thing. However, it's just so much fun to make these darn things that I can't seem to stop! LOL! Anyhow, I hope you enjoy them!

22 Dresden Files

Examples:

  1)    2)    3)   4)

5)     6)     7)     8)

9)     10)     11)     12)

13)     14) 15)     16)

17)     18)     19) 20)

21)     22) (Yeah, this one isn't really Dresden Files, but I didn't want to stick it all by its lonesome! :D)

So, you know the rules:

No hotlinking
Please credit
Please comment if taking. I love to hear your thoughts!
Thanks!

Desire 3/?

Wed, 30 May 2007 19:23:12 GMT

Title: Desire
Author: Aphrodite Roslin
Book or TV: TV (I'm afraid I haven't even begun to read the series. I know, I lose at life :D)
Rating: PG-13 Maybe R for this chapter
Spoiler: Maybe one for Soul Beneficiary
Disclaimer: Jim Butcher owns The Dresden Files. Harry owns my soul. Bob owns my heart.
Summary: Harry Dresden wanted a little hired help. What he got was a whole world of trouble, courtesy of one beautiful strange young woman. And this time, he's in way over his head. (Okay, yeah, the summary's kind of corny and nondescriptive, but give it a shot please. It's my first story ever written for this fandom! :D)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Black magic. Fire. Evil. All of these words tend to give Harry Dresden a rather nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach. All of which were words he’d become rather familiar with during these past couple days. Add to the mix one fiery housekeeper, literally, and an exploding ghost, and you’ve got the ingredients for one very bad week.

“Good evening, Miss Bain,” Harry greeted with his best smile.

“Mr. Dresden,” Sera smiled back.

“Shall we?” the wizard indicated the booth next to them.

“We shall,” the pyrokinetic nodded once, taking a seat across from him. “And, please, call me Sera.”

“Alright, Sera, I guess you can call me Harry,” Dresden replied.

“Harry it is then,” she grinned. “So, that’s an interesting name – Harry. Is there a story behind that?”

“Uh, yeah. My father named me after Harry Houdini.”

“The famous magician? That’s ironic now isn’t it?”

“A bit,” Harry gave a short laugh, unsure of what to say or do next.

“So, your friend,” Sera solved the dilemma for him. “The one from your office. What was his name?”

"Who Bob?” Dresden replied. “Yeah, he’s kind of my…associate of sorts.”

“It’s okay. I have the gift, remember? You don’t have to lie to me,” Sera smiled sweetly. “He’s the Bainbridge ghost, isn’t he?”

“Sounds right,” Harry nodded.

“Oh, this is amazing! You have to let me speak with him again!” said the suddenly excited Sera.

“Why all the excitement?” asked the slightly confused wizard.

“You mean you don’t know?” the woman questioned with a look of amazement. Dresden tilted his head in a slightly bird-like fashion, urging her to explain.

“The story of Hrothbert and Winifred is legend! Filled with romance, intrigue, life, death, and beyond! Their tale taught me the meaning of loyalty, true love, and the cruelty of the universe! I never thought I’d get the chance to meet one of them! Not in my lifetime at least.”

“Uh…Wow…I…didn’t know that.” He didn’t know what he’d expected the woman to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. Had anyone else in the world told him something like that, Dresden would have laughed in their faces. But something told him that taking this young woman seriously was best for everyone.

Sera let out a small giggle. “Obviously.”

“Well, I’ll let him know you’d like to talk to him,” Dresden said casually. Sera looked as if someone had just smacked her across the face.

“You mean you’re not interested in the story?” she questioned in utter disbelief.

“Sure I’m interested, but it’s not your place to tell me. If Bob wanted me to know, I’d know,” Harry responded.

“Your slave is a legend, and you don’t even care about the reason why?”

“Hey!” Dresden yelled a bit louder than he should have. Looking around at the staring faces of the other caffeine consumers, he lowered his voice to a near whisper but kept the same angry, threatening tone. “Bob is not my slave, servant, or anything else you could possibly associate with that word! Got it?”

“Yeah. Sorry,” Sera shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“Thank you,” Harry Let the volume of his voice return to normal. Sera studied his face for a long moment.

“You really care about him,” she stated with a soft grin.

“Yeah,” Harry answered shortly, not meeting her eyes.

“How long have you known him?” Sera attempted a return to civil conversation, taking a sip of her coffee. Harry hesitated before answering, looking up to meet her eyes once again.

“Since I was eleven.”

There was silence then, as Dresden was reluctant to say anything more, and Sera simply watched him, taking slow calculated drinks. Did the woman ever blink? Her dark green eyes were piercing, and it made the wizard’s insides squirm. He hadn’t been this uncomfortable in a long time, and for some reason he was compelled to fill the silence.

“After my dad died, I went to live with my uncle. He made Bob my tutor. Bob taught me everything I know about…well…anything. He’s my best friend, and a, uh, a second father of sorts. Hell, the man practically raised me. I’d be dead a thousand times over if it weren’t for him.”

“And you really love him, don’t you?” Sera asked with a tender look in her eyes.

“Yeah, I do,” Harry replied without hesitation, keeping the defensive tone in his voice. Sera’s gaze became thoughtful and a mischievous grin spread across her face.

“Come on. I wanna show you something,” she said as she stood, holding out her hand her him. Dresden took it reluctantly, uncertain of exactly what the mysterious young woman’s intentions were. Sera let out a small laugh at the look on his face, and her green eyes connected with his deep brown ones. Suddenly he no longer cared.

As soon as they reached Dresden’s apartment, he no sooner opened his mouth to question why she had taken him back here than her mouth was on his, and she was shoving him roughly back into the wall. Remembering Bob's skull was still in his backpack, Dresden swung the bag to the side just in time to keep it from being crushed between him and the wall.

“What –” was all he was able to get out as they came up briefly for air before Sera’s tongue was back in his mouth and he no longer cared. Quickly, he began leading her upstairs, fumbling with clothing slovenly as she followed him up more than willingly. Once in his bedroom and more than half undressed, Harry dropped his backpack by the bed, and Sera pulled him down on top of her. Immediately, he pulled his T-shirt off and tossed it away. Sera made quick work of her own shirt as Dresden began covering her neck in long, needy kisses.

“Pants,” the sorceress breathed as she pulled her shirt over her head. All Harry could do was nod as he unclasped her belt. Sera instantly laid flat on the bed with her legs raised slightly so as to grant him an easy passage to remove the bothersome clothing.

“I want you,” Harry panted as the woman beneath him slipped one hand into his hair and one into his boxers.

“I know,” she whispered slowly into his ear, a sly smile spreading across her features. “Now take me.”

600 Years Ago

Hrothbert of Bainbridge was a day’s ride away from home when he’d received the letter. Winifred had gone into labor sooner than expected and things were not looking well for her or the child. Grabbing the fastest horse in the stable, he rode all day and night, stopping only when the animal showed signs of exhaustion. His patience nonexistent at that point, Hrothbert abandoned his steed in the nearest town and commandeered the first healthy equine he could find. He was back home at his manor within nineteen hours.

One of his servants ran quickly to assist him, but the sorcerer brushed his efforts aside.

“Winifred? Where is she?” he demanded.

“In your chambers, my lord,” the servant replied hastily, sounding as if he wanted to say more, but Hrothbert paid him no mind. He was concerned with one thing and one thing only.

“Winifred!” he called as he ran up the winding steps which led to his bedchambers. Throwing open the chamber doors, the great Lord of Bainbridge was nearly brought to his knees at the sight that met his eyes. There, sitting up against what seemed to be every pillow they owned, was his wife, smiling and teary eyed as she softly bounced the small bundle in her arms. Looking up at him, she gave a short laugh.

“Hrothbert, come forward. Come and meet your daughter.”

Not trusting his legs to carry him for long, he obeyed her command swiftly, rushing toward the bed and taking a careful seat next to the beautiful redhead. His gaze drifted immediately toward the swaddled babe in her arms, and even the distinguished sorcerer could not stop his eyes from burning with fresh tears.

“A girl. We have a girl,” he said in babbling amazement.

“Did I not say it would be so?” Winifred grinned mischievously.

“She’s beautiful,” Hrothbert stated needlessly.

“Of course, my love. She is ours,” his wife nudged him with her elbow, gently offering the newborn to his arms. He accepted gratefully, supporting the child’s neck and lower back as she fussed in protest of the movement.

“Hush, child, you are in your father’s arms,” the Lord cooed gently, not believing how soft this small being had made him already.

“You know, we cannot continue to call her ‘child’. We must give her a proper name,” Winifred said softly, playing absently with one of the baby’s tiny hands. “What shall we call her?”

“We shall name her for your mother. Were it not for her, our paths may have never crossed,” Hrothbert decided without need for thought. Winifred simply smiled and nodded her head gently, amazed at the spell their child seemed to have held on her husband.

“Very well,” she agreed happily, continuing to play with the newborn’s hand. “Welcome to the world, my little Seraphina.”

Desire 2/?

Sun, 27 May 2007 05:18:25 GMT

Title: Desire
Author: Aphrodite Roslin
Book or TV: TV (I'm afraid I haven't even begun to read the series. I know, I lose at life :D)
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: I don't think there are any this chapter
Disclaimer: Jim Butcher owns The Dresden Files. Harry owns my soul. Bob owns my heart.
Summary: Harry Dresden wanted a little hired help. What he got was a whole world of trouble, courtesy of one strange beautiful young woman. And this time, he's in way over his head. (Okay, yeah, the summary's kind of corny and nondescriptive [which apparently isn't even a word], but give it a shot please. It's my first story ever written for this fandom! :D)

Chapter 1:

http://aphroditeroslin.livejournal.com/7522.html#cutid1

"Dresden, are you in there?" Lt. Murphy knocked loudly on his front door.

"Yeah, Murphy, hang on just a second!" Harry called as he made his way over to the door, drying his hair with a gray towel. "Hey, come on in." He greeted her with a smile. A visit from Murphy usually meant there was money on the horizon.

"I’ve got a case for you," she informed him as he closed the door behind her.

"One that requires a paid consultant, I presume?" Dresden hinted.

"Just as soon as you help me close it," Murphy confirmed.

"Okay then, what have you got for me?" Harry questioned, throwing his towel onto his nearby desk.

"A series of suspicious deaths," the lieutenant began while opening the file in her hands. "No known connections between the deceased except that they all died in broad daylight and in very public places where witnesses say that the deceased seemed to spontaneously combust."

"Spontaneous combustion, huh?" harry commented as he took the pictures Murphy was handing him. "Certainly don’t see that everyday."

"No," Murphy agreed as Dresden began flipping through photo after photo of the ashes of the lieutenant’s newest case. "I figured this was right up your creepy alley."

"Well, you’re probably right," Dresden replied, obviously intently interested in the pictures he held. "Do you have the whole file?"

"Yeah, I made you a copy. It’s right here," Murphy replied, handing him the manila folder she had had tucked under her left arm.

"All right, I’ll just look this over, and Ill get back to you."

"That’s it?" Murphy questioned in disbelief. "No digging for more information? No insisting on exploring the scenes?"

"Not today, Murphy. I’ll be in touch," he said, taking her by the elbow and leading her back toward the door.

"Okay, but if you know something –"

"Goodbye, Murphy," Dresden kept smiling as he led her outside and closed the door after her.

"Hey, Bob!" he turned around only to come face to face with the ghost in question. "Don’t do that."

"You bellowed?" Bob ignored his comment.

"I assume you were listening to all of that?" Harry questioned. Bob nodded his affirmation.

"This can’t just be a coincidence, can it? All these mysterious fiery deaths start happening at the same time a pyrokinetic comes into town?"

"You are correct that it is suspicious. Unfortunately, coincidence does not equal guilt. Anyone with the gift can learn to control fire. I’m afraid you’re going to need a lot more proof before you start making any accusations," Bob replied, giving Harry a cautious look. Harry thought for a second before a light seemed to switch on over his head.

"I’ve got her number right here," he said while picking up Miss Bain’s card. She owned a bookstore. Huh. "What do you say we give her a call? See what she’s been up to?"

"It’s as good a plan as any, but, Harry, be careful," Bob warned as Dresden made his way over to the phone. "I have a very bad feeling about all of this."

"What is with you and this girl anyway?" Harry asked as he picked up the telephone. "Are you sure there’s not something you need to tell me?"

"Nothing consequential. Just keep your distance," Bob answered cryptically. "There’s something…strange about this girl."

"If you say so, Bob," Dresden agreed half-heartedly as he finished dialing. Bob sighed heavily. Why couldn’t the boy learn to listen?

"Hello, Miss Bain? Yes, hi, this is Harry Dresden. We spoke yesterday in my office. Listen, I was wondering if you’d like to have a cup of coffee sometime; discuss an arrangement of some sort? This evening? Sounds great. There’s a little diner just down the road from my place. Yeah, that’s the one. I’ll meet you there at seven then? Okay, I’ll see you then. Bye." Dresden placed the phone back in its cradle then turned to face his still very nervous friend. "Well, talk about a date with the devil." Harry grinned irresolutely. Bob said nothing.

Seven different victims; each dead within the same forty-eight hours; each with no known ties to each other. At least that’s how the Chicago Police Department saw it. Thanks to Harry Dresden’s unending problems with the magical high-ups, he knew there was at least one common connection linking each of these poor bastards. Whoever or what ever was doing this was picking of Chicago’s wardens one by one. The only questions were who, why, and how were they doing it? That was what Harry intended to find out. Exactly how he was going to do that…well…he was working on it.

Chicago Zoo

4:30 p.m.

"Bob," Harry summoned, making sure the coast was clear. The ghost materialized with his usual fiery dramatics and looked around in wonder as he took in the sights surrounding him.

"Beautiful," he commented as he watched the animals play all around him. It was in this moment that Harry realized that, in all his centuries, Bob had never been to a zoo before.

"No time for that now, Bob. We’re not exactly suppose to be here," Harry told him, still looking around nervously.

"You mean we’re breaking an entering?" Bob questioned with disapproval clear in his voice.

"I mean this is where the last victim died. Now get over there, stick your hand in, and tell me what you get."

"I will try, Harry, but I cannot guarantee anything. If there was black magic performed here, the fire was most likely used to mask it," Bob warned him.

"I know. Don’t worry about it. Just tell me whatever you can find," Harry voiced his understanding.

Bob gave a nod in return and made his way over to the black, charred ground that marked Marisa Logan’s final resting-place. Crouching down close to the ground, he placed his otherwise useless hand onto the gruesome mark and waited for the magic to start. But something was wrong. He felt…different somehow.

Suddenly his essence began to warm, becoming hotter with each passing second. This was especially unnerving, as ghosts should not have the ability to feel heat. Bob wanted to speak – to warn Harry to stay back; that something wasn’t right – but he found himself unable to make a sound or even move. Something was drawing him to this spot, and whatever it was was very very bad.

"Bob?" Harry’s voice questioned from behind him. He sounded concerned, and Bob did not like that tone.

Then suddenly the phantom heat became overwhelming, engulfing the ghost’s entire being. And he screamed. Louder than he had in 600 years.

"Bob!" Harry yelled frantically as the heat continued to rise and sear nonexistent flesh. There was a blinding flash of red, orange, and blue then suddenly the spirit was flying backward through the air. He’d never been more grateful for being dead. The relief that the end of the ordeal brought was short-lived, however, as Bob sat up and looked to his left to see Harry lying flat and unmoving on the ground.

"Harry!" he shouted, leaping to his nonexistent feet and rushing to his friend’s side. "Harry?" bob repeated, falling to the ground next to him. Dresden let out a pained moan, and sighed heavily in relief.

"Bob?" Harry questioned, a hint of panic in his voice as he blinked opoen his eyes.

"I’m still here, Harry. Are you all right?" Bob replied softly, not even attempting to hide the concern in his voice.

"I think everything’s still in tact," Harry groaned, attempting to sit up.

"Perhaps you should remain lying down," Bob told him quickly in concern. Harry groaned again as he continued to ease into a sitting position.

"I’m fine, Bob," he insisted.

"At least let me take a look inside; search for internal injury."

"No. Really, I’m fine."

"If you say so," Bob agreed after a slight hesitation.

"What the hell was that anyway?" Dresden changed the subject, but made no attempt to pick himself up off the ground.

"I’m not sure. I’ve never seen anything like it," Bob admitted. "And I’ve certainly never…"

"Exploded?" Harry finished for him.

"Yes," Bob agreed.

"Do you have any idea what could have caused something like that?"

"Several," Bob confirmed. "None of them good. This is black magic of the highest degree. Whoever is the cause of this is not someone whom you should be getting yourself mixed up with."

"Yeah, I figured as much," Harry sighed.

"Harry, you must figure out whether or not Sera is responsible. If she is, her arrival at your office could mean very bad news for you."

"I know. I know," Harry ran his hands down his face in a very frustrated manner, rising slowly to his feet. Bob followed suit. "Which reminds me, I’ve got a date. Care to join us?"

"I wouldn’t want to be a third wheel," Bob joked.

"Nah, I insist. Besides, you’ll be in your skull. She won’t even know you’re there," Harry smirked.

"Well, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?" Bob smirked back, vanishing in a puff of smoke.

First Real Icons Post!

Thu, 24 May 2007 20:24:10 GMT

For the first time I have attempted to create a few icons. They're not the best, but I don't have any fancy photoshop type programs. I did the best I could though! I hope you like them!

5 "Scarlet Pimpernel"
13 "Dresden Files"
8 "House MD"
1 Robert Sean Leonard
3 "CATS"

Scarlet Pimpernel

1) 2)

3) 4)

5)

Dresden Files

6) 7)

8) 9)

10) 11)

12) 13)

14) 15)

16) 17)

18)

House MD

19) 20)

21) 22)

23) 24)

25) 26)

RSL

27)

CATS

28) 29)

30)

Please credit when using!
No hotlinking!
Comments are love!

New Poll!

Sat, 12 May 2007 21:05:28 GMT

First Ever Dresden Files Fic! YAY!

Sun, 06 May 2007 06:17:52 GMT

Title: Desire
Author: Aphrodite Roslin
Book or TV: TV (I'm afraid I haven't even begun to read the series. I know, I lose at life :D)
Rating: PG-13
Spoiler: A fairly big one for Soul Beneficiary
Disclaimer: Jim Butcher owns The Dresden Files. Harry owns my soul. Bob owns my heart.
Summary: Harry Dresden wanted a little hired help. What he got was a whole world of trouble, courtesy of one beautiful strange young woman. And this time, he's in way over his head. (Okay, yeah, the summary's kind of corny and nondescriptive, but give it a shot please. It's my first story ever written for this fandom! :D)

"This is a bad idea, Dresden," Bob shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"Hey, you’re the one whose always getting on me about not keeping the place clean," Harry defended, stacking three more books onto an impressive pile on his desk.

"Yes, but the idea was for you to take the initiative and do it yourself, not hire a maid that you can’t afford to do it for you," the thoroughly annoyed ghost replied.

"Will you relax? I spelled it out clearly in the ad that the pay would be… irregular."

"Oh, well that’s very reassuring. And just who in their right mind were you thinking would accept such a financially insecure job in the cobweb covered, moldy-smelling office of a lunatic who calls himself a wizard?"

Before Dresden could respond, the familiar bell and creak of the door that announced a visitor’s arrival sounded. Both Harry and Bob turned to face the door. Standing just inside the entrance was a young woman. Her hair was a deep auburn brown that was cut short above her shoulders and layered, and her eyes shown a brilliant dark green. Her skin was a natural tan, and she stood no taller than 5’ 6". She was, in a word, beautiful.

"Hello, um, are either of you Harry Dresden?" she questioned with a nervous smile.

"Uh, yeah. That’s me," Harry shook himself and extended his hand to shake hers. "Harry Dresden."

"Hi, I’m Sera. Sera Bain," she placed her hand in his and shook it with a grip much too strong for such a small woman.

"Nice to meet you, Miss Bain. What can I do for you?" Dresden asked, pulling his hand away slowly and flexing it a few times.

"I’m here about your newspaper ad. It said you were looking for a housekeeper," Sera explained.

"Uh, yes, that’s right. Come on in and have a seat," he led her toward the couch, passing in front of Bob, who hadn’t shifted an inch since the strange woman’s arrival. Sera caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye, stopped waling, and turned to face him. His crystal blue eyes were open wide, staring into Sera’s with a look of utter disbelief, and his mouth was slightly agape.

"What’s the matter?" the woman asked without losing her smile. "You look like you’ve just seen a ghost."

"Yes, something like that," Bob confirmed, his expression never faltering.

"I’m sorry, I’m not sure I understand," Sera’s cheerful demeanor wavered slightly in confusion. Bob shook himself slightly.

"Apologies, my dear. It is just that…you remind me of someone I once knew long ago," he attempted a small grin.

"Hmm, well maybe we’re related. What’s her name?" Sera questioned.

"It doesn’t matter. She died a very long time ago," Bob responded almost timidly.

"Oh, I’m sorry," Sera apologized with a look of sadness and sympathy.

"You have no reason to be," He reassured her with another grin. Sera grinned back nervously and nodded once.

"Uh, look, Sera," Harry approached her cautiously from behind, taking her by the shoulders and leading her toward the couch once more. "You did read the entire article, right?"

"You mean did I read the part about the sporadic pay?" she questioned. Dresden nodded and gave his best shy puppy look. "It’s fine with me. I have no need for money right now, but there is another way you could repay me."

"Great! What do you want?" Harry asked, not believing his luck.

"Lessons," the woman replied simply.

"Lessons?" Dresden questioned, unsure of what exactly she meant by that.

"Lessons from you…in wizardry – sorcery," she clarified. Harry let out an amused laugh.

"Sorry, kid, but what I do isn’t something that just anyone can learn. You see it requires a certain special, uh –"

Harry was interrupted as Sera Bain’s right hand suddenly burst into flames.

"Whoa!" Dresden jumped backward in surprise, nearly knocking over a lamp in the process. "What the –" Sera’s mouth curled into an amused smirk as the flames condensed and formed a small ball of fire hovering just above her hand.

"Tell me, Mr. Dresden, just how special do I need to be?" Sera raised an eyebrow, glancing over at him. Harry’s mouth remained agape, opening and closing periodically like a fish, unable to form a coherent response.

"Pyrokinesis. Very impressive," Bob answered, appearing to have recovered from his earlier shock-like state. "Where did you learn that?"

"I’ve had it since I can remember," the young woman replied, turning her attention back to the flames above her palm. "When I was a toddler, I got angry at my older sister and set her dress on fire." Both Harry and Bob’s eyes widened simultaneously as Sera continued to admire her handy work almost reverently. "It was an accident, of course. I was a baby. But I had to learn to control it on my own. My parents wouldn’t consider even attempting to look for anyone else who was like me – who could teach me how to understand what I was…what I am. So I will clean your house, I will do your laundry, I will cook your meals, I’ll do whatever you ask of me so long as you agree to teach me more about who I am, what I am, and what I’m supposed to do with it."

Harry still didn’t speak. His gaze moved from Sera to Bob several times. He was still unsure of how to react. He’d just wanted some help cleaning up and keeping things organized, not a pyromaniacal intern.

"Well, you can’t beat that deal," Bob quipped, obviously uncomfortable himself.

"I’ll tell you what," Sera closed her hand, extinguishing the magical fire. "I’ll leave you my card. That way when you come to a decision, you’ll know where to find me."

"Kay," was all Dresden managed to voice as she held out her card. He took it almost unconsciously, nodding his gratitude. "Thanks."

"No problem, Harry," she winked and smirked, turning and heading back for the door, the clicks of her heels echoing in her wake.

"Well, that was different," Harry commented lightly after the bell jingled and the door closed behind her.

"I’ve never seen a pyrokinetic shake you up so badly," Bob raised an eyebrow. Harry straightened his posture quickly and fixed his clothes anxiously.

"I just didn’t expect it is all. I thought she was a housekeeper, not a hellion."

"She is not a hellion. She can control fire. There is a difference, Harry."

"Okay, sorry. No need to get all defensive," Harry put his hands up in mock surrender. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

You reacted a bit more strangely than I did," Dresden approached his friend slowly, watching the ghost become increasingly nervous as the wizard continued his questioning. "Have you met her before?"

"Of course not."

"But you said she reminded you of someone."

"Yes she did…does."

"Who?"

"It doesn’t matter."

"I think it does."

"It is none of your concern."

"You are my concern, and Sera is now my concern. So that makes this other woman my concern as well. Who does she look so similar to that is made you speechless?"

For a moment, Bob and Harry simply stood in place, almost close enough to touch, had they been on the same plane of existence. Harry wasn’t backing down, so Bob used the only escape he knew. There was a flash of light as his spirit seemed to evaporate and flew swiftly into the eye of his skull. Dresden sighed heavily but did not summon him back. If it upset Bob that much, who was he to press the matter? He supposed it couldn’t be that important, at least not to his safety. If it were, Bob would have told him, right?

*Six Centuries Ago*
Winifred was in the garden when he arrived home. She was sitting amongst the flowers; her back was resting softly against her favorite willow tree, reading the newest book in her unending collection. Smiling to himself, Hrothbert slowly made his way over to her, taking a careful seat amongst the flowers and leaning back against the tree, their shoulders connecting as he moved. Winifred only allowed her gaze to be stolen from the pages as her husband placed his left hand lovingly over her abdomen, largely swollen with child.
"It will not be long now," she smiled, her bright emerald eyes twinkling in the sunlight. "She is becoming impatient with the darkness. She wants to see the sun."
"You are so sure that we will have a daughter," Hrothbert grinned. It was not a question. He knew his wife’s feelings on the matter.
"The magic does not lie, my husband," she gave a small laugh, a lock of deep auburn brown hair falling into her eyes.
"And I do not doubt you, my wife," he promised with a laugh of his own, leaning in to capture her sweet pink lips in a deep lingering kiss.

Senior Prom Pics!

Mon, 30 Apr 2007 00:33:15 GMT

Still not convinced that I'm completely crazy? Check out mine and my date's formal wear! :D

"Meaning" 20/?

Wed, 25 Apr 2007 23:42:52 GMT

Title: Meaning
Author: Aphrodite Roslin
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating: PG13
Warnings: More big Wilson ouchies. Big talk of homophobia.
Spoilers: None that I can think of
Summary: All House ever wanted was meaning. Without it, what was the point?
Disclaimer: Let this be notice that I do not own House, Wilson, or anyone or anything else in this story. If only... Well, I would say I own my characters, but really they own me.
A/N: Again, sorry for any mistakes. You know me!

“Oh, good heavens!” House awoke five hours, thirty-nine minutes, and thirteen seconds after Wilson stopped breathing to the ear piercing sobs of Mrs. Rebecca Wilson. Damn. This was the last thing he needed right now. Don’t get him wrong, he liked Mrs. Wilson. She was a good woman, but House was too tired and irritable to be comforting a terrified mother right then.

“Hi, Mrs. Wilson,” House greeted tiredly, standing from his position next to Wilson’s bed and subtly releasing the younger man’s hand. “Mr. Wilson.” House nodded to the tall, thin, gray-haired man standing in the doorway, relieved that he was there as well.

“Oh, Greg! Oh, honey!” Mrs. Wilson ran to him, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly. Rebecca Wilson wasn’t a tall woman, but she wasn’t exactly short either. Wilson obviously got his height from his father. Rebecca wasn’t fat by any means either, but she had a healthy amount of meat on her bones. House supposed the everyday person would refer to her as “average”. He preferred the term “standard”.

“What’s happened? Lisa’s message said he was sick, but it didn’t tell us much,” Rebecca said as she pulled away from their embrace but kept a hold of his forearms as she spoke.

“We’re not sure what’s wrong right now, but my team is working ‘round the clock,” House assured her. “They’re close to the answer. We just have to narrow it down.”

Mrs. Wilson opened her mouth to ask another question when House’s pager went off. It was Cuddy. He didn’t need to guess what she wanted to yell about.

“I’ve gotta take this. I’ll give you a few moments with your son,” he told them as he slowly slid away from Mrs. Wilson’s grasp. She looked unsure, so he gave her a short grin as his only available offer of comfort. Nodding to Wilson’s father as he exited, House made his way toward Cuddy’s office.

“Good morning, Sunshine!” House announced six minutes and thirty-two seconds after he left the Wilson’s alone.

“House, did you assault one of my nurses?” Cuddy ignored his comment.

“Assault is such a strong word –”

“You broke his nose in two places!” she interrupted.

“He had it coming,” House continued nonchalantly, masking his underlying annoyance.

“He had it coming? Thank you for the explanation, House! That clears it all up!”

“You’re welcome. It’s a good explanation.”

“I just spent four hours sitting in this office trying to convince him not to sue your ass then put you in jail, and the best defense you can give me is that he deserved it? What’d he do, talk bad about your shoes behind your back?”

“He was talking about Wilson! I heard that little prick laughing and cursing him for being with me! Wishing him dead! The man probably is dying! What would you expect me to do? Really. I wanna know. What would you have done?”

Cuddy hesitated, her intimidating demeanor beginning to falter.

“Are you being serious?” she asked. Her tone sounded skeptical, but she had no doubts he was telling the truth.

“Of course I’m being serious!” House continued, his frustration getting the better of him once again. “What motivation could I possibly have for making something like that up?”

“None, of course. I’m sorry,” Cuddy gave in uncharacteristically. She knew she should do more, punish him somehow, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so. He looked so pathetic standing there so hurt and sleep deprived. She wondered when he’d last eaten. It looked like it had been days. It seemed whatever was killing Wilson was beginning to take House with him.

“Can I go now? Wilson’s parents are here,” House sounded slightly calmer now. Cuddy nodded her consent.

“Here, take these with you,” Lisa reached down to open the large drawer in the middle of her desk.

“What is it?” House questioned, leaning up on his tiptoes to try to get a better look.

“A video and pictures of the ultrasound,” she explained, finding the aforementioned items and holding them out to him. “I had copies made for you.”

House reached out somewhat tentatively and took them from her hands.

“Thanks,” he said shortly, still slightly upset.

“Now go take care of our boy,” she gave the best grin she could muster. House simply nodded before heading quickly out the door. As soon as he was out of earshot, Cuddy picked up her phone and dialed the newest number she had committed to memory.

“Mrs. House? It’s Lisa Cuddy,” she began. House wouldn’t like this at all, but it wasn’t as if she could get Wilson down here to make everything better.

Twenty-seven minutes and nineteen seconds after House left Cuddy’s office, he sat at his and Wilson’s usual table, staring at the blank walls of the nearly deserted cafeteria. He couldn’t bring himself to go back to his lover’s room. Not while Jimmy’s parents were there. He had no idea what to say to them. He doubted Wilson had ever had the chance to tell them about their new…living arrangement, and House really did not want to be the one to break the news. Sure it wasn’t exactly something you would normally lay on two people whose child had a very really chance of dying in the extremely near future, but House new his own personality. He’d give it away somehow, that much was obvious. Then things would be awkward, and it would all go downhill from there.

House gave a heavy, exhausted sigh. Lying spread out in on the table in front of him were Cuddy’s ultrasound pictures. He couldn’t get over how strange it was. He hadn’t had sex with Cuddy since college, yet here, growing inside of her, were their children. And House was excited. Genuinely excited. All he wanted to do was to run and tell Wilson all about it – the only person he could talk to. But he couldn’t because the man was once again lying in a damn hospital bed, wasting away while House stood by and watched helplessly.

And as terrible as it may sound, House found himself feeling angry – angry at the younger man for doing this to him. He was angry that he was in this situation; that Wilson was lying there sick and useless while House needed him here – well. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. There was so much happening, and House needed someone to share it with, but, instead of a smiling and ever-attentive face, all he got were closed eyelids and emotionless lips wrapped around a plastic tube.

Glancing up at the clock on the far wall, House saw that it was nearly time for lunch. That meant Wilson’s parents would be kicked out soon for the nurses’ regular exam. His first thought was he was glad he wasn’t the one who had to inform Mr. and Mrs. Wilson of this. His second thought was that he had to pee. So, gathering his belongings, he stood and made his way to the nearest men’s room.

Setting his things on the driest part of the sink, House strolled over to his usual spot, unzipped his fly, and began relieving himself. Looking to the side, House was overcome by the most ridiculous feeling of loneliness he had ever felt. This was really getting out of hand. Was he actually getting this empty feeling because he missed his “pee buddy” standing two urinals away? He really needed to get some sleep. Better yet, he needed to get back to Wilson. Zipping his fly back up, he washed his hands quickly, picked up his things, and headed for his best friend’s room.

Three minutes and seven seconds later, House peered inconspicuously through the glass wall of Wilson’s hospital room. To his relief, the only elderly person in sight was the nurse, and she appeared to be finishing up her work. Taking a deep breath, he strolled inside, dismissed the nurse, then stood by Wilson’s side; staring down at the still, pale face of the usually vibrant younger man.

“Hey, Jimmy, I’m back. Sorry I was gone so long, but you know how I feel about parents. You’re a patient, so yes even yours,” House was grinning unconsciously as he spoke, but his smile quickly fell into a frown as he glanced at the monitors surrounding his lover’s bed. Remembering the items he held in his hands, an idea sprang to his mind and he decided to run with it.

“Listen, it was Cuddy who paged me about an hour ago, but you probably figured that out already. She gave me a copy of the ultrasound video, and I thought you might like to hear something,” House set about loading the room’s standard VCR with his video and turning the television to the correct channel. Turning the volume up to its highest level, he pressed play. As he did so, the rhythmic tunes of his babies’ heartbeats began to fill the silence. Each soft thud brought a shiver to House’s skin.

“Hear that? That’s our children, Jimmy. Mine, Cuddy’s, and yours. Yep you heard right. Children. It’s twins. We’re having twins. I knew I was good, but damn! I didn’t know I was that good.” Just then, Wilson’s eyes began to blink as he awoke from his drug-induced slumber.

“Hey, there you are,” House gave another grin, intentional this time, as deep brown eyes squinted open to look up into his. “It’s about time you came back to me. I was starting to talk to myself.” Wilson simply stared back, looking dazed and very confused. “Listen, Jimmy, just hang in there a little while longer, all right? I know this sucks. It’s no picnic for any of us either, but we’re so close. Do you hear that? Our babies’ hearts? If nothing else, that is what you’ve got to hang on for. I can’t do it without you. I…I love you, James. Do you hear me? You have to remember that, okay?”

A solitary tear made its way down James’ smooth cheek, curving slightly onto his chin, and dripped gracefully onto the pillow next to his head. House felt his heart drop into his stomach at the sight. Not knowing what else to do, House dipped his head and placed a soft, lingering kiss on the corner of Wilson’s mouth, being careful to avoid the breathing tube. Wilson’s eye’s squeezed shut as he did so, more tears escaping silently as the soothing rhythm continued infinitely in the background. House placed another quick kiss there before pulling back, tears beginning to form in his own eyes. Letting out a sigh that could almost be mistaken for a sob, he rested his forehead on his lover’s and stayed there. It was the only contact he could keep with the younger man that Wilson could still feel. As the beat in the background drifted away into static, the door flew open and House’s team flew inside.

“House, we’ve got it! We know what’s wrong with Wilson!”

Sorry for the delay everyone, but, as usual, life interfered. But it is here nonetheless! I hope you enjoyed it! All your reviews are all wonderful and very encouraging! Keep 'em coming, and I'll be back ASAP! Thanks again, everyone:D

Two Random Icons

Wed, 25 Apr 2007 20:20:26 GMT

Meaning chapter 16 cut for Fox forum

Sun, 15 Apr 2007 02:34:24 GMT

"Home sweet couch!" Wilson sighed almost orgasmically as he flopped carelessly onto their living room couch six hours, twelve minutes, and thirty-two seconds after House had left his hospital room.

"Don’t get too comfortable. I haven’t had a decent meal in weeks. You owe me," House commented as he tossed both of their jackets into the hall closet.

"Even if I actually felt like doing anything but lounge right here, what exactly would you expect me to cook with? I’ve been incapacitated for the past three weeks, and you haven’t been away from the hospital in that time long enough to do anything but buy junk food from the shopping center around the corner."

"Ah, but you underestimate the power of my mother’s crazy," House raised his eyebrows. "She stocked these shelves with enough food to feed a small country. Now get to work. I’m thinking something of the Mexican variety."

"Fine, but I get to pick the movie," Wilson reluctantly agreed, rising wearily from his comfy seat and heading purposefully toward the kitchen.

"But you always get to pick the movie!" House whined childishly.

"Ha!" Wilson laughed. "When was the last time you even let me touch the remote?"

"See, now that isn’t fair. How am I supposed to argue when you go and get all technical like that?"

"I’m sure you’ll find a way. You always do," Wilson grinned. Although Wilson didn’t see it, House grinned back.

"Remind me again why we’re eating on the bed?" Wilson said in an exasperated voice as House returned with seconds one hour, seventeen minutes, and thirty-four seconds later.

"The TV’s bigger and the seating’s more comfortable. What more could you ask for?" House replied in a ‘duh’ tone of voice.

"How about not having crumbs all over where I sleep," Wilson suggested.

"How about moving in with my mother? Then you’ll never have to worry about that again," House responded dryly.

"I thought your mom was moving out tomorrow."

"Nah. She decided to go ahead and move today. Lucky for you."

"And you actually helped her?" Wilson was impressed.

"Nope. Hired professionals to do it for me." Wilson was no longer impressed. They sat in silence for eighteen more seconds before Wilson suddenly smirked widely and turned to face House.

"You know, if I moved in with your mom, that’d make me your daddy." House turned to face him in kind, intending to scowl but ending up erupting with laughter. Wilson immediately joined him.

When the laughter ended, their eyes locked, and both men found it impossible to look away. Leaning in slowly, House touched their lips together lightly, relishing in the feeling it sparked inside him. Wilson responded ever so slightly, obviously enjoying the feather light contact. House grinned and slid his left hand slowly up Wilson’s chest, then to the back of his neck, and finally ending up tangled in Wilson’s thick, dark hair. He then placed his right hand on Wilson’s leg, just below his thigh, and guided it slowly upward, feeling Wilson twitch as he passed his crotch, and let his hand slide underneath the younger doctor’s shirt. The kiss barely broke as he swiftly lifted James’ shirt up and over his head while James returned the favor in kind. Once they were both shirtless, House pulled away slowly, catching Wilson’s bottom lip between his as he did and letting it slide languidly from his mouth. Leaning back slightly, House took in his soon-to-be-lover’s appearance and smiled. Wilson’s face was blushed from the heat of their bodily contact and a bit of stubble burn. He kept his eyes closed still as if opening them would break whatever spell they seemed to be under, his lips were moist and swollen, and his hair was mussed beyond recognition. Thinking back, House could not recall another time he’d seen James Wilson lose control so completely, and knowing he had done that to him made it that much sweeter.

But when his gaze traveled below the younger man’s head and neck, House’s heart sank. That nasty little parasite’s disease had certainly done a number on his friend. He’d lost a lot of weight – a good ten or fifteen pounds from what House could see. He was much too thin now. His body was still recovering from a huge shock. Near death can cause all kinds of unsightly side effects. House knew this from experience. Letting his eyes continue downward, he spotted the faint line of the old appendectomy scar and raised his right hand to trace it lightly.

"I missed you," he whispered softly, leaning back in to capture Wilson’s mouth passionately; letting the kiss say what he could not. He knew it was a cliché, but he had to go with what worked. And judging by Wilson’s reaction, it had worked very well. Before they knew it, pants were flying through the air, and boxers were lost somewhere within the sheets. Then all that was left was each other, and God did it feel good. Why had they waited so long for this?

"Ready to make good on your promise?" James questioned between kisses, sliding his left hand down to grip House’s waist. House simply nodded in response, remembering their conversation that morning, and turned his attention to the younger man’s neck. Wilson threw his head back instinctively, allowing an involuntary moan of pleasure to escape his lips as the hand on House’s waist tightened its grip spasmodically. Both men were, of course, completely erect by now, and with one short thrust House brought their throbbing cocks together, biting down on Wilson’s shoulder as the pressure in his penis increased tenfold at the simple touch. They both were moaning, unashamedly, then; rocking back and forth against each other, in a slow and steady rhythm.

"House, please," Wilson begged with a rumble in his voice that House had never heard before. "I want you. Uh, God! I want you inside me now."

House was happy to oblige. Wordlessly, he wrapped the younger man’s legs around his waist. Trailing a line of lustful kisses down his sternum as they continued to rock in time. Wilson reached up eagerly to grab his shoulders, perfectly trimmed fingernails digging into the diagnostician’s scapulas. Moving swiftly, House managed to pull one arm away to reach into the top drawer of his nightstand. Feeling around blindly, he almost sighed in relief when his hand came in contact with the small plastic tube he'd placed their that morning. Reluctantly pulling his other hand away, House squeezed some out into his hand and applied it quickly, literally aching with anticipation. Shuddering with ecstasy, House brought both of his hands down to grip the younger man’s hips and roughly held him in place, looking James straight in the eyes to confirm that he was ready. Seeing the answering he was looking for deep in the depths of Wilson’s vast eyes, now turned black with by euphoria, Greg pushed inside of him. Capturing James’ mouth in a bruising kiss, Greg bit down hard on the young man’s bottom lip to help distract him from the pain. Despite his efforts, Wilson still let out a shocked cry, but House quickly swallowed it for him, turning it into a groan of unimaginable pleasure as he began to move. It was slow going at first as he gave his friend the chance to stretch out and get used to the foreign feeling of another human being inside of him. As the man gave his nonverbal consent for continuation, House let James set the pace, not wanting to hurt him.

The oncologist kept their pace slow for a while until House’s cock found just the right spot. Wilson’s entire body shuddered at the phenomenal new feeling, and the pace swiftly sped up. Panting harshly, the two men rocked roughly back and fourth, making noises in their throats that neither of them ever knew they could make. James could instinctively feel House was getting close, and the feeling overwhelmed him completely. He could feel his own cock beginning to leek pre-come as a small warning, so he wrapped his legs tighter around the other man's waist, crossing them behind his back, tore his left hand away from House’s shoulder and wrapped it around his own penis. Holding tightly, he let his hand match the rhythm of their bodies and thought he might die from the anticipation.

House threw his head back and yelled something inaudible as he finally came, and that was enough for Wilson. The sound of Greg’s exhilarated screams combined with the feeling of his warmth spreading inside of him, James came with a cry of his own just as House collapsed on top of him. Wilson wrapped his arms around him as they both they still, panting like out of shape race dogs. House returned the favor, rolling over so that the so recently sick man was lying on top of him, and sighed contently. He could definitely get use to this feeling – a feeling that only a couple weeks ago he was certain he would never get the chance to feel. He took the silence that had overcome them as an opportunity to memorize every detail – every touch, every sight, every taste, every scent, every sound. He committed it all to memory as if he had found the cure for cancer. House never wanted to forget how he felt at that moment. It was that feeling he’d been longing for all his life. It was a feeling of belonging. And he would allow nothing, NOTHING, to spoil that moment for him.

"Cuddy’s having my baby." Damn it.

House, no! What were you thinking? Ruin the moment much? Hey, guys, don't blame me. Like I could ever tell House what to do!
Next chapter: Cuddy's doing what? And Wilson discovers that his troubles aren't over yet...not by a long shot!

Meaning Chapter 19/?

Wed, 28 Mar 2007 21:09:32 GMT

"With Cuddy at her ultrasound," Cameron replied, setting the equipment she was holding on a sterile tray next to Wilson’s bed.

"Cuddy’s pregnant?" Foreman questioned, doing the same.

"Yep. It’s the talk of the hospital," Cameron confirmed. "I thought everyone knew. It’s Princeton’s biggest scandal since House and Wilson got together…officially."

"Did any of the rumor spreading nurses happen to mention who the father is?" Foreman continued.

"Why guilty conscious? Or are you jealous? Chase asked jokingly.

"I’m curious," Foreman replied defensively.

"They don’t know for sure, but they’ve got quite a pool going," Cameron explained.

"Whose in the lead?" Chase questioned.

"Wilson’s got the most votes. House is in second."

"Of course," Chase rolled his eyes.

"Why do you say that?" Cameron wondered aloud.

"Think about it. If you wanted to have a baby with no commitment required, who would be the first person you’d ask?" Chase dramatically indicated Wilson with his arms. "Your gay best friends!"

"The assumption that there would be no strings attached because they’re gay is extremely faulty logic," Cameron replied. "Being gay does not hinder their ability to love a child that they fathered."

"All right, I’ll give you that, and I’ll put fifty dollars on House as the father," Chase smirked.

"What? Why?" asked the now confused Cameron. Chase put up one finger before answering.

"Gay best friend," he began, then raised his second finger as well. "Hates kids."

"More like hates everyone," Cameron argued.

"This conversation is getting way too weird for me," Foreman interrupted. "Can we just get this done so we can start as soon as House gets back?" Chase and Cameron said nothing but continued preparing their equipment. "Thank you."

Meanwhile, House was in the best mood he’d been in for weeks. He was practically skipping down the hallway, humming a tune he couldn’t name. It was catchy though, so he didn’t mind. He’d have to look up the name of the song later. When Wilson was better.

"So I hear Dr. Fairy’s back as a patient again," House heard a masculine voice say from the room he was walking past.

"Yep. I guess he should have stuck with the ladies. This homo thing isn’t working out too well for him," it was a woman’s voice this time. House stopped to listen, peering around the doorway to see two nurses inside arranging a bed for an incoming patient. Cringing, House immediately recognized the woman as the clumsy nurse from the hallway who’d nearly run him down all those weeks ago.

"You don’t have to tell me. How many times is the guy gonna have to go to the brink of death before he figures out how unnatural and disgusting he is. I mean, doesn’t he realize God’s trying to tell him something?" the male nurse asked. The woman gave a short laugh.

"I doubt it. Super Gimp probably brainwashed him or something. Everyone knows what a bastard that man can be." It was the man’s turn to laugh now.

"Yeah, I almost feel sorry for the faggot. But he had it coming. Messing around with another man? I tell ya, Lucy, things like that should be illegal." House could feel the anger rising in his stomach, but he held still. This conversation was too interesting to interrupt just yet.

"I hear ya, Joe. It gives me the creeps every time I see one or the other of them – especially if they’re together. I can’t stop thinking about all the sick things they must do to each other. It’s enough to make a person want to vomit." The man House had cleverly deduced was called Joe laughed again. House’s anger level rose another notch.

"I know. Can you imagine what their parents think? How embarrassing for them!" Clumsy snickered at that as they finished their work.

"Come on. It’s feeding time for House’s pet," she smirked and headed toward the door.

"Yeah. Maybe if we’re lucky the queer will leave through the back door instead of the front this time," Joe laughed at his own wit as he turned to join her. He was closer, so he beat her to the door. But as Nurse Joe stepped out of the room, he suddenly felt his jaw come into contact with something hard and full of kinetic energy. Nurse Clumsy let out a yelp as Joe hit the floor, clutching his hands to his face.

"What the hell are you doing?" she yelled, kneeling to check on her friend.

"Being queer I guess," House shrugged, doing his best to mask the pain in his now throbbing right hand.

"Jesus, House! Are you insane?" Joe shouted, spitting a decent amount of blood onto the floor.

"You have to ask?" House asked sarcastically. Joe and Lucy simply stared at him angrily. "Hey, give me a break. I’ve come down with a serious bout of homosexuality. Don’t get too close! You don’t want to catch it!"

"You’re a sick bastard, House!" Lucy spat. House snapped. Had this been what Wilson was talking about before? Had the oncologist been hearing such conversations from the beginning? Was that why he was so preoccupied and worried all the time? Bending over as Joe began to get to his feet, House grabbed the younger man’s shirt color, pulled him to his feet, and slammed him against the wall.

"Now you listen to me! You can say anything you please about me. You can hang up a poster and throw darts at it for all I care! But you may not, under any circumstance, utter one more negative word about James Wilson!" House gave the man a little shake every now and then as he spoke, effectively keeping his undivided attention. "He is more of a man than you will ever be! And a better one too! Now I can’t think of anything more despicable than a person like you who sneaks around behind people’s backs, cursing them and wishing them dead! And you say we’re the evil, disgusting ones! Try looking at yourself in the mirror once in a while! That is, unless you’re too afraid of what you’re going to see."

"House, let him go!" Nurse Clumsy yelled in his ear, pulling on his right arm. House ignored her. He wasn’t finished yet.

"Now you can go and tell all your little Neanderthal-brained buddies to lay off, or so help me I will hurt you all so bad you’ll curse your mother for ever being whore enough to conceive you!" House gave Joe one final slam into the wall before letting him go, backing away with a wild look in his eyes. Joe and Lucy watched him wearily as they slowly began to move away, unsure whether the doctor was finished.

"Go on! Get out of my sight!" he shouted, moving toward them as if to hit one of them again. Lucy let out a small yelp and she and Joe took off down the hallway.

Coming back to his senses, House noticed the crowd that had gathered around the scene for the first time. Staff and patients alike were staring at him through disapproving eyes. Some of them were muttering aversely and shaking their heads. Others were watching him with wide eyes full of a mixture of fear and disgust. It was too much right now. He couldn’t handle this. Poor Jimmy. This had been what he was talking about – what House had dismissed as the younger man’s paranoia. Wilson was too polite to say anything. He would have let them do or say anything as long as it kept things civil. And House had ignored him when the man had come to him for help. That was it, he needed to get back to Wilson’s room. He’d been gone long enough. Jimmy needed him now.

"Haven’t started all the fun without me, have you?" House announced, acting like his same old self, four minutes and thirty-seven seconds after his violent encounter in the hallway.

"We were just going to wake Wilson up. We need his consent to do an LP," Cameron explained.

"Still thinking autoimmune?" House questioned, stepping further into the room. Chase and Foreman exchanged a look.

"Right now, it makes the most sense," Cameron continued, oblivious to her colleagues’ reactions.

"I agree. Wake him up. He’ll consent," House told her, taking a seat in the chair next to the bed.

"Dr. Wilson?" Cameron whispered, gently shaking the sleeping man’s shoulder. Wilson didn’t budge. House rolled his eyes.

"Wilson!" he shouted, startling the three other doctors. Wilson’s eyes shot open immediately. "You see? That’s how you do it." The ducklings each gave House their own scathing look.

"God, House, do you always have to be so loud?" Wilson asked, sounding pitiful.

"Would I be me if I weren’t?" House smirked. Wilson grinned back slightly.

"Dr. Wilson, we need for you to consent to an LP. We want to do a protein CSF test," Cameron interrupted. Wilson groaned.

"Fine, but can it wait until I go back to sleep?" Wilson questioned, only half joking.

"Sorry. No," Cameron grinned. Chase held out the papers and a pen, and Wilson signed with a shaky hand.

"Okay, let’s get you on your side," Cameron spoke in her "dealing with patients" voice. With a lot help from her and House, Wilson managed to get on his right side. Chase did the honors of unhooking the back of his gown so as not to embarrass either him or Cameron. "Now, I know you know the drill, so let’s get your legs up toward your chest as far as they can go."

Cameron tried to reach down and pull his legs up, but House grabbed her wrist. Looking up at him, he shook his head and she stepped back. Pulling his chair over a bit, House grabbed Wilson’s legs as gently as possible, bent the sick man’s knees, and pulled them slowly up toward his chest. Looking over, he saw Wilson’s eyes focused on his face. Not knowing what else to do, House gave him a small smile. Wilson grinned back nervously. He was not looking forward to this.

"Okay, put your chin down toward your chest," House told him. Wilson complied, but House could feel him shaking slightly. He was scared. Of course he was scared! They’d just done this! All these painful, grueling tests had already been done to him at least once before, not even a month ago. He knew what he had to look forward too. Tentatively, House brought up his free hand and placed it on top of Wilson’s head after making sure the ducklings were too busy to notice. He watched as Wilson closed his eyes at the contact then bowed his own head.

"All right, Dr. Wilson, this is going to be a little cold," Chase said as he prepared to sanitize the area in around the third and forth lumbar vertebrae. Wilson nodded his understanding and didn’t flinch once the younger doctor began. "Now, I’m going to inject the local anesthetic into your spine. It’ll probably sting a little, but we both know it’s better than feeling the next needle." Chase was trying to lighten the mood, but in reality he was making Wilson sick to his stomach thinking about what was to come. He hissed when the drugs were injected. He hated that feeling. It was light someone was holding a torch to his spine. House tightened his grip a little more.

"I don’t have to tell you what’s coming next. Just try to stay as still as possible," Foreman instructed. Wilson nodded his understanding. "Here goes."

Wilson bit his bottom lip as Foreman began inserting the needle. His body wanted to stiffen, but he resisted. It was slow going, and James started to shake visibly harder. Gruffly, he pulled one hand up to grip House’s wrist, his nails digging painfully into the older man’s skin. Something was wrong.

"Wilson? What is it? What’s happening?" House ran his hand through the younger man’s hair.

"My chest," he wheezed. "I can’t…breathe…I…" Alarms began screaming around them, and Wilson started to panic. House and Cameron’s hands held him still.

"Don’t let him move!" Foreman yelled.

"The paralysis reached his lungs!" Cameron yelled back.

"He still has a needle in his spinal cord! Get some oxygen!" Foreman ordered. Cameron worked at lightning speed, rushing a portable oxygen unit to House then scrambling to call the code.

"Wilson! Wilson, look at me!" House commanded, using his right hand to direct the frightened man’s gaze to him. Wilson was sucking in rapid, deep, futile breaths, barely fogging the oxygen mask with each pitiful exhale. "I know it hurts, but you’ve got to stay still. The needle is still in your spine. You’ve gotta hang in there a little longer until we can get it out. Do you understand?" He never stopped the caresses of his lover’s hair. Wilson wheezed painfully, his eyes full of fear and begging Houses to help him.

"Hang on, Jimmy. Just a little longer. You can do this. Come on," House began chanting softly, not knowing what else he could do. He didn’t care that the other three were seeing. He couldn’t care less what they thought of him at that moment. Wilson could be dying. Again. And he wasn’t sure he could fix it this time.

"What are you waiting for? An invitation? Get that out of him!" House shouted at Foreman, his patience dissipating to zero.

"You know it’s not that simple, House! I’m almost through!" Foreman shouted back. This was getting ridiculous. Wilson was making piteous sounds in his throat now, the effort to breathe becoming more and more difficult with each passing second. House could see a slight bluish tinge forming on the sick man’s lips. In an attempt to keep himself as calm as possible, House lowered his face to the top of James’ head and began whispering again.

"Come on, Jimmy, stay with me. We’ve got this. I’m right here. Everything’s gonna be fine. Do you understand me? Everything’ll be all right."

"House!" Chase suddenly yelled. House’s head shot up, and he turned his head to look at the Australian. Chase, however, was staring at Wilson. House moved his gaze downward to do the same.

"Son of a bitch! He’s not breathing! Foreman, get that thing out of him now!" House commanded. He felt as if he might throw up. Wilson was still conscious, but he wasn’t getting any air. The younger man was beyond terrified, staring up at House with desperate tears streaming down his cheeks. Oh God, he must be in hell.

"Almost there!" Foreman replied, sounding almost panicky himself.

"Now!" House screamed.

"I’m out!" Foreman announced, raising his arms above his head to show it was all clear.

"Get him on his back!" House instructed Chase. The blonde did as he was told, ripping the oxygen mask from Wilson’s pale, discolored face.

House grabbed a breathing tube from its package as the other three worked around him. The alarms were still shrieking, making his head pound harder with each passing moment. Sprinting back to James’ bed, House tilted his head back and slid the tube expertly into his lungs.

"Bag!" he yelled before he had even finished. Cameron was way ahead of him, standing ready with one in her hand. House had it attached in seconds and began pumping life giving oxygen into his lover’s lungs. Looking down, he could see his own hands shaking from the fear and adrenaline. Damn. Whatever this was, it was winning. This couldn’t be happening again. They had too much to look forward to. House hadn’t even gotten to tell him that they were having twins. Wilson would have loved that. Wilson will love that! He had to believe that. Looking around the room, he knew he was the only one who did.

"Don’t just stand there! Someone go and get me a respirator!" House demanded. Cameron started slightly then took a step to the side.

"It’s right here," she told him, pulling the machine up behind her.

This was going to be a long night.

Chapter 20

Thanks for reading, everyone! Sorry it took so long to update. I have no excuses, but I'll blame my excessive schoolwork anyway and stupid minor medical problems anyway! :) Chapter 20 should come a lot sooner than this one! In it, we meet Wilson's parents and see more of House's soft side. Skippy!

Also, I ask that you all please go vote in my polls that I have posted recently! I would love to have as many votes as possible! Thank you in advance!

Favorite Ship Poll / Lamest Ship Poll / Ham vs Ham

A Funny Poll This Time

Sun, 25 Mar 2007 17:41:55 GMT

A Slightly Different Kind of Poll

Sat, 24 Mar 2007 05:24:41 GMT

Last time I asked for your favorite. Now, I want to know your very least favorite. Remember, you can only vote once, so choose carefully!

House Relationship Poll

Sat, 17 Mar 2007 04:45:54 GMT

New Fanfiction - "Life Is But A Dream"

Thu, 15 Mar 2007 17:12:13 GMT

Title: Life Is But A Dream
Author: Aphrodite Roslin
Pairing: House/Wilson pre-slash
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Angst, hurt!Wilson, Implied character death
Spoilers: None that I can think of
Summary: It was just a dream. It was only a dream. It was just a dream. At least that was what he kept telling himself.
Disclaimer: Let this be notice that I do not own House, Wilson, or anyone or anything else in this story. If only...

"It’s definitely autoimmune," Cameron said with a confident air. "All we need to do is narrow it down."

"I agree. Let’s start narrowing. Suggestions?" House raised an eyebrow.

"Lupus, Crohns, or Addison’s," Chase suggested. House wrote as the Australian spoke.

"I like it. Anyone else have any bright ideas, or are we leaving this all up to the foreigner?" House turned back around to watch their reactions, but once he was facing them, he found himself no longer interested.

Something was wrong. He felt…funny – dizzy. The whole room was blurry now – spinning on some invisible axis. The ducklings were talking, but he couldn’t hear them. Their words melted together in a distortion that reminded House of a Walkman when the batteries were low. What was happening? The room kept spinning faster, and House was getting dizzier. The kids were watching him now. Cameron was in his face asking him some unheard question. House tried to push her away, but too much movement would cause him to fall. He really did not want to fall.

The room was spinning faster still. All his beloved possessions swirled around him like some sick carnival ride, but House was standing still. The ducklings looked frantic. Cameron and Chase were yelling now – screaming in his ear. House wished they’d go away. A headache was the last thing he needed. What he needed was to get out of this room. He needed to get away from the spinning. He was tired and dizzy and his head was starting to pound. He could hear his own pulse throbbing in his ears. This wasn’t right. This couldn’t be real. STOP SPINNING!

As quickly as it had begun, the spinning stopped. Everything was different now. The ducklings were still standing around him, but he was no longer the focus of their attention. All three of their heads were now turned toward the corridor. Each had a look of panic etched into their faces, but something new was wrong now. Nothing was moving anymore. Each of his fellows were frozen in place. Cameron’s hair was even sticking straight out behind her as if she had turned very quickly. They looked like the waxed figures in that museum he and Wilson had gone to three summers ago. How odd.

Risking a glance out into the corridor, House found the rest of the world was no different than the supernatural scene in his office. Three nurses, a patient, and Cuddy had been standing outside. Each of them was now frozen in place, their faces turned in frightened alarm toward the same end of the hallway. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. What was at the end of that hallway? Why was everyone so afraid? Against his better judgement, House slipped around the frozen bodies of his employees and eased his office door open. Slowly venturing out into the corridor, he made his way over to Cuddy’s frozen form. House waved his hand awkwardly in front of her face, but she made no indication that she saw him. The woman didn’t even blink.

Out of the corner of his eye, House noticed something shine. Glancing over Cuddy’s left shoulder, he noticed something floating there – hanging in mid-air. That shouldn’t be there. That was impossible. Of course, how much of what was happening really was possible? His curiosity getting the better of him, House allowed himself to slowly make his way over to it. As he approached, a growing sense of anxiety began creeping into his veins. He knew what this was. He was all too familiar with things like this. The object was only inches away from his face when he stopped, breathing so heavily that he thought his breath alone might knock the object down. It was a bullet, gleaming sharp and innocent in the fluorescent hospital lighting. His palms sweating, House stretched out one finger from his left hand to touch the eye-offending piece of metal.

The instant his finger came in contact with the bullet, a deafening crash echoed throughout the building. House jumped in surprise at the sound. Suddenly he knew what was happening. He knew where everyone was looking. He knew whom he was too late to save. Turning as fast as his bad leg would let him, House ran. At least he tried to run. He cursed his injured leg as he sped around the corner. He needed to go faster. He was too late. He was too late!

"What the –" House began as he burst into his best friend’s office. The first thing his senses registered was the smell of blood. It was overwhelming. It was terrifying. It was Wilson’s. "What the hell are you doing?" He screamed at the crazed woman standing behind Wilson’s desk, holding the oncologist up by the neck – a seeping crimson hole marring the once flawless flesh of his stomach.

"Do you love him?" the crazed woman yelled, pressing her gun firmly into Wilson’s neck.

"What?" House questioned, unable to register what was happening.

"Do you love him?" she screamed even louder, shaking the wounded man in her arms. Wilson cried out, the movement evoking a whole new world of pain.

"Look, I don’t know what you want, but what ever it is, I’ll take care of it. Just let him go," House ignored her questions. She was obviously mentally disturbed.

"Do you love him enough to die for him?" she asked almost calmly, locking her gaze with House’s. For a moment House had no answer. What did she want him to say? He’d waited too long, though, and the click of the gun being readied to fire echoed like the shot itself. House couldn’t move. He couldn’t think. Wilson’s eyes were pleading with him to do something – anything. But House couldn’t make himself speak. He was a coward. He couldn’t save his only friend.

"Then tell him goodbye," she leered. The last thing he heard was Wilson’s terrified scream before the trigger was pulled, and House’s world went dark.

House let out a shout as he awoke, the magazine he’d been reading before drifting off flying off his chest and landing, open, on the floor. What the hell was that all about? He hadn’t had a nightmare like that in…well, he’d never had a nightmare like that. Glancing outside the glass walls, he saw his team laughing and talking like any other day. There was no spinning room or panic-stricken faces frozen in time. Turning to look outside, House found the balcony to be empty. Frowning, he stood, slid open the door and stepped out. Moving to where he could see inside his friend’s office, House sighed in relief as he saw the younger man sitting behind his desk, listening intently to some old bald guy spouting off what, by the look in Wilson’s eyes, was some incredibly boring information.

Wilson glanced up suddenly and smiled. He must have caught a glimpse of House out of the corner of his eye. Each time Baldy would look down at the papers in his hands, Wilson would glance at House and make a different annoyed face. House laughed out loud each time. It was just a dream. It was only a dream. It was just a dream. At least that was what he kept telling himself. Dreams can’t hurt you, right? And Wilson was okay. There was the proof sitting not thirty feet away from him. But if that were true, then why was he still so unnerved? House didn’t believe in ESP or premonitions. That was ridiculous. The whole dream had been ridiculous. What was he even doing out here? He needed a distraction. Fast. He wondered if Cuddy had anything interesting for him. Maybe he would go and see. He just didn’t want to stay here.

As the week went on, House became increasingly exhausted. He’d been unable to sleep since that first nightmare in his office. Every night, the dream would come again. Each time it was more vivid than the previous. He couldn’t figure it out. Why was this happening to him? He had no idea, and, right now, he didn’t have the time to care either. His current patient was growing steadily worse, and they were no closer to figuring it out than they were a week ago.

"It’s definitely autoimmune," Cameron said with a confident air. "All we need to do is narrow it down."

"I agree. Let’s start narrowing. Suggestions?" House raised an eyebrow.

"Lupus, Crohns, or Addison’s," Chase suggested. House wrote as the Australian spoke.

"I like it. Anyone else have any bright ideas, or are we leaving this all up to the…foreigner?" House froze. Holy shit. This was his dream. This was his nightmare. This was how it began every time.

"I think Wegner’s is definitely in the running," Foreman suggested. House said nothing. He didn’t move a muscle. He was too busy trying to decide what to do. If he ran down the hallway and barged into Wilson’s office for nothing, how could he possibly explain it? But if he stayed here and did nothing, he could very well lose the only real friend he’d ever had.

"House?" Foreman’s voice brought him out of his thoughts, yet he still found himself frozen in place. Inwardly, House wondered if this was what it was like to be frozen with fear.

"House?" it was Cameron’s turn to speak. She was louder than her colleague, and sounding decidedly more concerned. Of course she was. When wasn’t she?

"Keep going," House instructing as he came to a decision. He didn’t bother to cap the marker as he threw it to Foreman and headed straight for the door.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Cameron yelled after him. House hesitated only to take a breath before responding.

"There’s something I’ve gotta do." And with that he left, making a beeline for the Head of Oncology’s office.

"Wilson, open up!" he all but shouted threw the door. Receiving no answer, he knocked louder and tried again. "Come on, Wilson, the game’s about to start!" Still nothing. This was it. Taking a deep breath, he placed his hand on the doorknob and turned.

"House, no! Get out of here!" Wilson’s voice suddenly screamed, the echoes of his plea silenced by the deafening sound of a single gunshot. Wasting no more time, House threw the door open, and his world turned upside down. He was dreaming again. He had to be. Because there, standing directly in front of him, was the exact set up for his nightmare’s final scene.

"What the hell are you doing?" He screamed at the crazed woman standing behind Wilson’s desk, holding the oncologist up by the neck – a seeping crimson hole marring the once flawless flesh of his stomach.

Do you love him?

"He killed my son! He killed my son!" the woman cried, her gun hand shaking dangerously as she sobbed. House was wrong. This was no dream. This had never happened. The woman had never answered his question but asked him one of her own. A question that House was never able to answer.

Do you love him?

"Look, I don’t know what you think he did, but I can assure you that Dr. Wilson would never hurt another human being on purpose. No one here has killed anyone. What do you say we keep it that way?" House spoke slowly, not wanting to agitate the mentally disturbed woman anymore that necessary.

Do you love him enough…

"No! No! My son his dead! This son of a bitch killed my little boy!" she screamed even louder, shaking the wounded man in her arms. Wilson cried out, the movement evoking a whole new world of pain. "Then he had the balls to say he was sorry! He’s sorry that he killed my baby, but my baby’s still dead! If he’s so sorry, let him tell my boy himself!" With a resounding click, the woman pulled back the gun’s hammer and pressed the barrel even harder into the oncologist’s neck.

Do you love him enough to die for him?

"Wait!" House suddenly shouted, the fear starting to leave his body as he suddenly realized what all of this had been about. He knew what he had to do – what he was meant to do. "If you kill him, he gets away with it. On the other hand, if you kill me, he’ll have to deal with two deaths on his conscience for the rest of his pathetic, miserable life." The words stung even as he spoke them, but they were necessary. Wilson would feel guilty, but he would live. And that was all that mattered.

"Come on. I’m all he’s got in this world. I’m the only one left," it was a small but necessary lie. "He loves me, and I love him every bit as much as you love your son. Which do you think would hurt him more – his own death or mine?"

The disgruntled woman seemed to contemplate this for a moment. House could feel hope welling in his stomach. Maybe he could change the ending after all.

"You love him enough to die for him?" she finally questioned, much more softly than House had ever heard before. This time, he didn’t hesitate to answer.

"Yes, I do."

"Then tell him goodbye," she leered, this time turning the gun on House. The last thing he heard was Wilson’s terrified scream before the trigger was pulled, and House’s world went dark.

Meaning 18/?

Sun, 11 Mar 2007 02:33:24 GMT

"You’ve got a case," House announced as he entered the diagnostics conference room two hours, twenty-three minutes, and fifty-nine seconds after Cuddy’s rather short ultrasound. He dropped two files on the table between Chase and Cameron then tossed the third one to Foreman, who caught it reflexively.

"You’re in charge," he informed the neurologist before turning on his heels and walking back out of the door.

"That’s it?" Foreman called after him, but House just kept walking.

"What was that all about?" Chase asked, thoroughly confused.

"Oh, no," Cameron said as her eyes scanned the file.

"What?" Chase questioned as she rose from her seat quickly and all but ran for the door. "What?" he called again, but she was already gone.

"House!" Cameron yelled as she spotted her boss in front of the elevators with his finger on the down button.

"See by throwing the files at you, saying as little as possible, then leaving again at an extremely rapid pace, I thought you might get the hint that I’m not in the mood for chit-chat," House replied as she came to a stop by his right side.

"What happened?" she ignored him.

"See that cute little folder you’ve got there? Everything you need to know is in it," House answered, obviously irritated, and pressed the down arrow again.

"But I don’t understand. It’s been over a month since his HGA. He hasn’t shown any signs of complications. Why would he suddenly be deteriorating?" the young woman continued.

"Well, seeing how he’s displaying completely different symptoms this time, I’m gonna guess that the two aren’t directly related," House pressed the button several times in succession.

"But they could be. Delayed symptoms aren’t unheard of –"

"Why are you telling me this?" House cut her off, his patience now nearly nonexistent. "I already know all of this. The people you should be talking to are your team. That’s generally what a team does – work together, share information in order to reach a common goal. And since I’m not on your team for this particular case, you, therefore, have no reason to be out here spouting off useless information to me." A bell dinged and the elevator doors finally opened. House stepped in quickly and looked back at Cameron. "Now get back there and do your job," he instructed as he picked his floor and the doors began to close once more.

"But –" Cameron tried to say, but she was too late. Letting out an angry growl, she turned and headed back to the conference room.

"Did you catch him?" Foreman questioned as she re-entered the room.

"Yeah," she answered shortly, obviously annoyed, as she made her way back to her chair.

"He’s not helping us this time?" Chase asked as she sat next to him.

"Nope," she replied in the same irked tone.

"Why?" Foreman inquired. Wasn’t he supposed to be teaching them?

"Because he’s House, and he likes to mess with us," Chase offered.

"Did you guys even read the file? It’s Wilson again," Cameron said.

"So what? Last time this happened he fought us tooth and nail for the case," Foreman pointed out.

"Last time he almost had a mental breakdown," Cameron argued.

"Doesn’t matte. Fifty bucks says he can’t stay away," Chase chimed in.

"I’ll take that bet," Cameron agreed.

"All right, you’re on," Chase grinned and shook her hand. Foreman rolled his eyes and picked up the black marker.

"Let’s just get started. House’ll kill us if we screw this up. Differential diagnosis?"

Eleven hours, seventeen minutes, and forty-three seconds later, Cuddy stood outside Wilson’s hospital room, watching House as he sat, hunched over, in the unbelievably uncomfortable visitor’s chair, staring off into nothing.

"Hey," she said quietly, gaining his attention. He looked up at her slowly but said nothing. "How’s he doing?" she questioned as she stepped into the room, coming to a stop beside him.

"He’s in and out of it. We I gave him cyclobenzaprine, and it’s pretty much wiped him out." House replied.

"I can see that," Cuddy responded, looking over at the sleeping man on the bed. "How much did you give him?"

"Enough," House answered vaguely. Cuddy glanced at him skeptically. "He was in a lot of pain." Cuddy nodded her head in understanding.

"Who’d you assign the case to?"

"Foreman, officially," House answered, resting his chin on top of his fist.

"And you’re not going up there to help?"

"If I do, I’ll never come back," House told her, surprised at his own admission.

"Did you call your mother?" Cuddy could tell he had not meant to say as much as he had, so she changed the subject quickly.

"No. She doesn’t need the stress again," House explained.

"She’s going to find out sooner or later," Cuddy pointed out.

"Later would be preferable," House warned, dashing any thoughts Cuddy may have been having about calling her for him. She nodded her head in acceptance.

"What about his parents?" she asked instead. "Planning on calling them this time?"

"I’m surprised you didn’t – this time or the last," House replied.

"I did. They haven’t answered," Cuddy told him.

"That’s because they took a cruise to Jamaica," House informed her.

"They’ve been on a cruise for a month?" she questioned skeptically.

"No, they’ve been in Jamaica for a month. They were on a cruise on the way there," he corrected her.

"Why so long?" Cuddy asked curiously.

"They’re old, retired, and Jewish. Do they need a better reason?" House answered. Cuddy gave him a look but said nothing to contradict him.

"Do you have any idea why this is happening to him?" she decided to inquire instead. However, before House could respond, Wilson made a small noise from the bed, and his eyes began to blink open. House reacted immediately, pushing himself up and standing next to the bed.

"House?" Wilson questioned, groggy from the drugs.

"The one and only," the older doctor replied, grinning. "How are you feeling?"

"Different," Wilson responded vaguely.

"Okay…is different good or bad?" House urged him to continue.

"Well, I’m not in agony, so I guess that’s good," Wilson attempted a grin. House gave him one back.

"Good. I wanna check your reflexes. Do you think you can sit up if Cuddy helps you?" Wilson nodded the affirmative. Cuddy gave House a curious look but said nothing. Both House and Cuddy reached out to ease him into a sitting position, not wanting to set off anymore muscle spasms. Wilson was trembling with the effort, but he couldn’t seem to get his legs to do what he wanted.

"Wilson?" House questioned, carefully as he felt the man shaking under his hands.

"My feet. I can’t move them," he answered fearfully. "My legs aren’t doing much better."

"Can you feel this?" Cuddy asked, letting House hold Wilson up for a moment as she took his left foot in her hands. James nodded. "But you can’t move it at all." His head shook this time. Cuddy raised her eyes to meet House’s. This was definitely not good.

Three days, seven hours, forty-three minutes, and seventeen seconds later, Cuddy stood by Wilson’s beside yet again.

"What’s the word?" she asked the older man sitting next to her. House was in the same position he’d been in every time Cuddy came for a visit. He never left the room even once. The Dean of Medicine had taken it upon herself to see that he was taken care of; bringing him clothes, food, toys, and anything else she saw fit to deliver. She knew his detachment from the diagnostics part of this case was his way of avoiding the reaction he’d had last time, but she also knew that it wasn’t working as well as he’d hoped. So she’d come to offer him a temporary distraction.

"He’s lost movement completely from his waist and below," House said quietly, sounding very tired. "If the ducklings don’t figure it out soon, we’ll have to bring in a respirator."

"What about you? Any ideas?" Cuddy questioned.

"Lots and lots of ideas," House confirmed. "Too many." Cuddy sighed and bowed her head for a second.

"I have to go see Dr. Isaac in a few minutes for my transvaginal ultrasound. I was wondering if you’d come with me," she said quickly, now feeling very awkward for asking.

"You want me to leave him now?"

"It’ll only be for a few minutes," Cuddy explained. "It’ll give you a nice break, and I’d really appreciate you being there. We’re suppose to hear the baby’s heart for the first time." House looked up at her and seemed to contemplate the situation for a moment. He then turned back to Wilson and laid a hand on top of the younger man’s.

"Okay," he agreed quietly. Cuddy did a double take, surprised at his acceptance.

"All right, let’s get going now. With the amount of medication in Wilson’s system, he’ll still be out when you come back." House nodded in agreement, and slowly rose from his chair.

"Hello, Dr. Cuddy – Dr. House," Dr. Isaac greeted as he entered the exam room twenty-four minutes, and thirteen seconds after they’d left Wilson’s room. "Sorry to keep you waiting. A patient of mine went into pre-mature labor with triplets yesterday, and she decided to deliver not long ago."

"That’s okay, Dr. Isaac. Are she and the babies all right?" Cuddy responded courteously.

"Oh, yes. The mother’s pretty exhausted, of course, but the babies are doing fine. Two boys and a girl," Dr. Isaac smiled. "She was very lucky. Now, are you ready?"

"Can’t wait," Cuddy grinned nervously. Isaac grinned back reassuringly.

"Okay, I’m going to place a blanket over your lower half, and than I want you to remove your pants and underwear," he instructed. Cuddy nodded her understanding as the blanket was laid over her. Dr. Isaac prepared the transducer as she removed the bottom half of her clothing.

"Okay, now I you’ll just put your feet up in the stirrups here, we’ll get started," Isaac explained. As she did as she was told, she noticed out of the corner of her eye, House slowly moving closer as if attempting to peer around the blanket. Cuddy stuck a hand out to clothesline his chest before he got too far.

"Not in this lifetime," she said in an annoyed tone, but she smiled at him. He was still the same old House.

"You may feel some mild discomfort as the transducer enters the vagina," Dr. Isaac warned. Cuddy nodded.

"Puh. If she had a nickel for every time she heard that…" House joked. Cuddy smacked his arm, but her smile never wavered.

Cuddy gave a small wince as Isaac inserted the transducer, but relaxed immediately as she glanced up at the monitor next to her. Looking over at Dr. Isaac, Cuddy noticed he seemed to be concentrating very hard on something. A small pinch of worry entered her mind, but she let it rest for now. Aren’t doctors supposed to concentrate on their work?

"All right, Lisa, would you like to listen to your baby’s heartbeat?" he finally asked after several minutes. She nodded eagerly, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. Isaac fiddled with the machine for a moment, and then it was there. Surrounding them, filling the entire room, was the rapid, peaceful rhythm of her unborn child’s heartbeat. A smile crept over her face, bigger than she had managed in a very long time. Looking over at her oldest friend, the smile grew even more. House had closed his eyes, concentrating solely on the music surrounding them. He had a familiar look on his face. Lisa recognized it as the one he made as he played a particularly beautiful piece of piano music. Suddenly, she felt Dr. Isaac shift the transducer slightly, and a whole new beat began to play, mixing flawlessly with the first; beating on every offbeat. This drew Cuddy’s attention away immediately.

"Dr. Isaac, is that –"

"Congratulations, Lisa. It looks like multiples are a theme today. You have two very healthy babies in there," the ob-gyn smiled. Cuddy instantly looked over to gage House’s reaction. However, House was still sitting motionless in his chair, his eyes closed, still listening intently to the unchanging rhythm of their children’s hearts.

Chapter 19

Meaning 17/?

Tue, 06 Mar 2007 01:10:52 GMT

Title: Meaning
Author: Aphrodite Roslin
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Um...none I can think of...
Spoilers: None that I can think of
Summary: All House ever wanted was meaning. Without it, what was the point?
Disclaimer: Let this be notice that I do not own House, Wilson, or anyone or anything else in this story. If only... Well, I would say I own my characters, but really they own me.
Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait! I had a huge research project due *puke*! But it's done now, so here is some House/Wilson goodness for your viewing pleasure! Enjoy!

Wilson waited seven seconds before letting out a heavy sigh and buried the side of his face a little deeper into House’s chest.

"I know," he said calmly, wishing that House didn’t feel the need to ruin every moment with some wildly inappropriate comment.

"You know?" House questioned, very surprised.

"Mmm hmm," Wilson nodded lazily. "Cuddy told me earlier today. She said she knew you’d do something like this and wanted to warn me. Boy did she get a shock when she found out that I didn’t even know you’d volunteered."

"Wait a second, Cuddy told you that she figured I’d tell you about this right after having screwed you into oblivion and left you lying naked and thoroughly sated on top of me?" House tried humor. Wilson usually fell for that.

"House," Wilson spoke his name in a long, drawn out warning. "You’re killing the happy."

"I don’t know. I think that’s a very happy picture."

"Not the thought of Cuddy imagining it."

"That’s the part I was talking about!" Wilson let out another heavy sigh at this statement, and House decided there was no avoiding this anymore.

"The reason I didn’t tell you wasn’t that I didn’t want you to know," he said quietly, wanting to get this over with. "You were sick the day it happened. You didn’t need the stress. Then you just kept getting sicker. And once you were well, you still needed time to recover. Stress doesn’t do much for that either. There just was never a good time to bring it up."

"Oh, but right after a long round of mind-blowing man sex is a perfect time?" Wilson asked rhetorically.

"I’ll admit I probably don’t have the best timing in the world, but you’re too tired to really annoy me about it. So, I’d call this one a win," House smirked involuntary when he felt Wilson’s mouth curl into a grin.

"All right, you’ve got me there. Can we sleep now?" Wilson questioned groggily. House let out a short laugh.

"Good idea," he responded, planting a kiss on top of the younger man’s head before he could think about it. "You’re really okay with this?"

"I told you a long time ago I was. Sleep now. We’ll worry later," Wilson sighed contently against him, and they both quickly fell into a deep sleep.

"Shit!" Wilson hissed loudly as he fell forward, catching himself on the counter behind the diagnostics conference table.

"Are you okay?" Cameron asked quickly, looking as if she were about to rise from her seat. Wilson put a hand up to still her.

"I’m fine. I just…tripped," he answered unconvincingly.

"Over what?" Chase questioned, glancing over the floor around Wilson.

"My own two feet?"

"You’ve been doing that a lot lately," House pointed out with a suspicious air to his voice.

"I’ve just been a little off since I was sick. It’s no big deal," Wilson replied, standing upright again. At least he hoped so. It’d been three weeks, six days, twenty hours, seven minutes, and forty-five seconds since he’d been released from the hospital’s care. Since then, he’d felt fine, but he’d been feeling strange for the past couple of days. He’d become rather clumsy, dropping things left and right and tripping over air. It wasn’t like him, and it made him nervous.

"Wilson, you look like death warmed over. You’d better not be getting sick again. I can only take so much before I just kill you myself," House told him dryly.

"Thank you, my love," Wilson responded, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Any time, my darling," House fired back, batting his eyes.

"That just might be the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen you do," the oncologist crossed his arms with a grin. House snorted.

" Yeah, that’s what you said this morning in the shower."

"No! No! Stop! Just stop that train off thought!" Chase suddenly yelled to everyone’s surprise.

"You can’t just stop a train. They take over a mile to stop. We can slow the train down, but stopping…" House let the sentence hang, too busy enjoying the twitchy reaction he knew such comments always gave Chase.

"So run it into the wall!" the Aussie suggested. "I’m really getting tired of all these comments about your love life."

"Why is that, Chase? Guy love make you uncomfortable?" House smirked. Chase closed his eyes, most likely counting to ten in his head.

"So, Chase, is there any group of people you do like?" Foreman questioned with an eyebrow raised. "You don’t like fat people, you don’t like gay people…"

"I never said that!" Chase defended himself.

"You don’t have to say it," Foreman continued. "Trust me, your actions are more than enough."

"So, just because I don’t enjoy hearing the details of House’s sex life, I’m homophobic? Where’s the logic in that?" Chase argued.

"All right, children, that’s enough fighting," House interrupted, bored of this already. "Mommy and daddy have to go out for a little while, but we’ll be back before you know it. Now, your sister is in charge while we’re gone because we know that annoys you. Be good, and find me a case." House grabbed Wilson’s wrist as he spoke and led him out the door.

"Where are we going?" Wilson asked as House continued to pull him toward destinations unknown.

"Cuddy’s having her first ultrasound today. She asked me if we’d come," House responded as they reached the elevators.

"And you said yes?" questioned the surprised Wilson.

"Of course I said yes. It is my kid after all," House rolled his eyes.

"I thought you said this was Cuddy’s kid? That you were just a sperm donor? What changed your mind?"

"Cuddy," House answered vaguely as he pressed the button for the ground floor.

"Really? What’d she say?" Wilson continued.

"She invited me to the ultrasound," House answered simply, and the elevator doors closed.

"Hey! Starting the party without us?" House practically shouted as they entered the exam room. Cuddy lay on the table with her shirt pulled up over her stomach as Dr. Isaac spread the warm gel over said part of her body.

"House, my appointment was half an hour ago. I wasn’t going to wait all day," Cuddy responded, sounding slightly irritated. But Wilson knew it was just an act.

"I like to make an entrance," House shrugged, helping himself to the only chair in the room and planting himself directly in front of the screen.

"House!" Cuddy scolded. "Your big, balding head is blocking my view!"

"I like a front row seat," he defended.

"Today you ride in the back. Now move over," the woman demanded. Dr. Isaac shook his head but said nothing. He’d been working at this hospital for nine years. He knew how House could be.

"Okay, Lisa, if you’ll look right here toward the middle of the screen, that peanut-shaped thing, that’s your baby," Dr. Isaac explained. He knew it probably wasn’t necessary, but it was how he was use to doing things. And figured it had probably been a while since Dr. Cuddy had read an ultrasound. "We’re not detecting a heartbeat just yet, but that’s nothing to worry about. Six weeks is just the starting point for the circulatory system’s development. I’d like to schedule you for a transvaginal ultrasound within the next week, though. Just to rule out any complications."

"That’s fine. I’ll be here whenever you need me," Cuddy grinned. The lack of a heartbeat was really worrying her, but she forced her fears to the back of her mind and focused her attention on the picture on the monitor. Then looking to her left, she watched the faces and House and Wilson as they watched the monitor, and she smiled. They were mesmerized, for lack of a better word. Wilson was grinning like a madman, and House…House was…transfixed. There was a look in his eyes that she had never seen before, and she couldn’t help but wonder exactly what it meant.

"House, do you think maybe I could have the chair now?" Wilson’s voice threw Cuddy out of her reverie. Looking up at him, she could see that the goofy grin had been completely erased from his profile. He looked pale and tired, and, for a moment, she wondered if he might throw up. House looked up at him too and immediately rose from his seat. Five weeks ago, she would have thought this was an unusual action from the diagnostician, but, ever since Wilson had recovered, House had been acting differently toward his only friend. He’d been jumpy and extra cautious, and he always watched the other man carefully when he thought no one was looking.

"What’s the matter?" House asked, trying in vain to mask the concern in his voice as he helped Wilson sit.

"My feet feel weird," Wilson answered vaguely.

"Weird how?" the diagnostician questioned while untying the oncologist’s shoes laces.

"Pins and needles. Like they’re going to sleep," Wilson let out a sharp hiss. Cuddy cringed. She knew how uncomfortable that feeling could be. The only question was, why was Wilson feeling it?

"Are they going numb?" House asked as he pulled off Wilson’s fancy French shoes. Wilson shook his head.

"I don’t think so. I can still feel your hands." Dr. Isaac handed Cuddy a towel as House continued his examination.

"How did this start? Were you standing awkwardly?" she questioned as she pulled her shirt down and sat up.

"No. I was just – AH!" Wilson’s response was cut short as he screamed, almost knocking House to the ground as he grabbed for his feet.

"What is it? What’s wrong?" House asked loudly, a look of half-panic in his eyes.

"Ah, it hurts!" was all Wilson could muster as he dug his fingers into his feet.

"Wilson, you need to tell us how it hurts," Cuddy said slowly, kneeling down next to him. "What does it feel like?"

"My m-muscles are cramping," he groaned through gritted teeth.

"Should I call someone?" Dr. Isaac questioned, feeling extremely useless.

"Could you get us a wheelchair, please?" Cuddy requested. Isaac nodded and made a hasty retreat. Cuddy watched him leave then turned back to Wilson. House had gotten him to release his left foot, and the older doctor had begun massaging it roughly, attempting to force the straining muscles to relax. Wilson had his other foot gripped tightly in both of his hands, pushing so hard on the muscles that his fingers were turning white. Cuddy placed a reassuring hand on his forearm and wondered what Wilson could have possibly done to deserve this.

Chapter 18