After Wilson left PPTH, he had a lot of time on his hands. Granted a lot of that time was spent just trying to cope and function on everyday tasks. The bereavement time had just not been enough. He had lost the wind in his sails and the bounce in his step. He had lost his sense of self, the love of his life, and his best friend in one fell swoop.
Time slowly passed however, in grief counseling, in visiting his family, in receiving visitors to his apartment like Cameron and Cuddy. And slowly the ache in his heart that had been so present since Amber died in his arms, the pain that had been imprinted on him since he had told House they were no longer friends began to slowly slip away.
And when Cuddy came to him talking of the future and children, he was terrified and alarmed, but for the first time began to think the future may not be so bleak after all. He was unsure if she was going to request a donation, or if she, after an appropriate time, was going to pursue a relationship with him. After all, they weren't getting any older, and they did share many common interests. A spark ignited in him that he may finally have something to live for once again, love.
He began to shower and shave every morning; he knew he would have to soon, as he'd be starting his new position soon. He began walking, and talking his anti-depressant regularly. He thoroughly cleaned the apartment, sans one mug, that still adorned the kitchen counter. On one of her many visits, Cuddy helped Wilson with the overwhelming task of settling Amber's affairs and her belongings which still haunted him.
A week passed after the apartment began to take on more of Wilson's personality, he asked Cuddy over for dinner, to show his appreciation of how much she had helped him. She amicably accepted. Wilson threw himself into making a special meal, something he hadn't had the motivation or desire to do in some time.
Each course was prepared with love and care, and when she arrived the apartment was filled with a delightful aroma. They enjoyed the meal of fresh vegetable lasagna and fancy green salad with perfectly chilled wine. They talked and laughed, and Wilson felt more like his own self than he had in months.
Once the dishes were cleared, and they had moved their wine glasses to the living room, Wilson decided that now was the time to bring up the possibility of taking this further. He loved Amber and he always would, but he was so alone, and the hurt of being alone, was taking its toll.
Wilson reached over and took Cuddy's hand in his. "Lisa, you have been so wonderful through all of this, so supportive. I can't thank you enough." Cuddy smiled at Wilson. "Wilson, you don't need to thank me. I wanted to be there for you, it was the least I could do. You needed a friend, and I was glad I could do something for you. It was so hard to see you struggling."
Wilson's eyes became downcast, and he felt them filling with tears. He willed them away, and looked into Cuddy's eyes. "Were you serious before? When you were talking about kids?"
"Of course, you know I've always wanted a child of my own. I'm getting too old to keep trying, especially since I haven't been able to carry past the first trimester."
Wilson nodded, his hand still holding hers. He struggled through the next words, his voice thick with emotion. "If you were willing to try again, Lisa, I'd be there for you. I, I'd like to have a child with you."
For a moment there was dead silence. Cuddy slowly pulled her hand away. "James, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean, I wasn't looking for . . ." Cuddy's voice trailed off as she tried desperately to find the right words. "I wasn't looking for a partner or a donation." She smiled, trying to make this as easy as possible. "James, I want to adopt, and I was hoping you would write my letter of recommendation to the agency. That was why I was talking it up, I was so excited to find an agency that was really willing to invest the time and help me do this. I've wanted this for so long and now, it is so close." Cuddy tried to read the look on Wilson's face at this point and was unsure if he was going to laugh or cry.
"I'm so sorry you misinterpreted this. I didn't mean to hurt you, James. You are a good friend, and you will make a wonderful father I am sure. But right now you need to be taking care of yourself, not taking on any more obligations, relationship-wise."
Wilson nodded slowly. He felt a fool. He couldn't believe that he had misinterpreted and misconstrued all of this. "I'm so sorry, Lisa. I feel foolish."
"Don't. It's ok, and forgotten." She paused a moment. "Would it be horrible of me to still ask you to write up the letter of recommendation?"
"No, of course not. I would love to; I'd be honored to do it." Wilson smiled, his coping face back into place as if he hadn't been heartbroken.
An awkward silence filled the air, until Cuddy said something about having an early meeting and Wilson rose to walk her to the door. She gave him the information for the letter, and bade him a good night, with a gentle kiss on the cheek.
The door closed behind him, Wilson rested his forehead against it for a moment, summoning up the energy to go on. He felt foolish and sad and devastated. Finally he pushed himself away from the door, and headed into the kitchen where he retrieved a bottle of scotch and a single glass. He retreated back into the living room, poured two fingers, and began to think where all of this went wrong.
He was so alone, which he wasn't used to. He had his family growing up, and then his wives, and of course House. And then Amber, who changed his life, who loved him for who he was, and who could even tolerate House. He drained the glass and poured two fingers more.
And as he sat there in the dark all he could think about was how wrong it all was, how wrong and unfair life was, and how much his heart ached without Amber. Tears slid down his cheeks, and deep sobs wracked his body as he gave over to the foolishness of the evening and the grief of losing the only person, wait two people who had ever cared about him at all.
When he had finally drunk all he could stomach, he stumbled into the bedroom. Seeing the perfect bed there, reminded him of coming home that fateful evening and finding Amber's letter. Dejected, he collapsed to the bed in sobs that carried on long after he fell asleep. Alone.