Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me, I only write for fun (well, in the case of this fic I think I should say that I write for angst :s).
Warnings: Possible spoilers for the end of the series. Based on theories on Internet about it and prompted by the promo of episode 8x15 and by the fic The Gift by rslhilson (if you read here something that reminds you of that fic, then I give him/her the credit). This is a death fic, and it is not the way I want the series end (well, except the Hilson, but that's the only thing that is highly improbable to happen in cannon). Rated M for later chapters.
Sorry for the grammar errors: English is not my mother tongue and I don't have a beta.
Just one last thing: I'm quite sure this is going to be an AU fic. I wanted to post it complete before the airing of the episode 15 in the USA, but as that will be impossible, I've split it in chapters. So, I'm posting the first chapter before the episode, but the rest will come after as I've imagined them, no matter what will actually happen in cannon.
Wilson looked at the boy slepping in the bed that had once belonged to House, back when they where living together in the condo. Back, in the happier days of his life. Back, when they had pretended that they were only friends. Back, before the illness. Back, when House was still alive.
Wilson let the sadness washed over him. Four months ago, his friend had exhaled his last breath and he had felt utterly lost. The only thing that had kept him from giving up had been the promise he had made to House: to take care of the boy, the diagnostician's son.
The existence of the boy had come as a surprise for the both of them. As House had told him, he had been required to go down to ER as per request of a son's patient. Although he had ignored the request, he had found a child in his office an hour later. The defiance and the stubborness in the red-rimmed child's eyes had been unnerving and familiar. According to the diagnostician the kid had simply said "I'm your son". He had laughed at that but, after some data was provided by the child, House had started to have doubts. He had performed a paternity test that had come positive. The mother had died soon after in the ER due to injuries caused by a serious car accident and House had been forced to take care of the boy. Well, he and Dominika had.
But even more surprising than the very existence of the child, it had been the way his friend had acted towards his son who was an almost perfect stranger to him. Gentleness and patience had never seemed traits of the diagnostician. Thus, Wilson had been taken aback when he had seen House behaving in that way with his son, while he remained a jerk with everybody else. That fact had made Wilson believe that House's actions towards his own son were heavily related with his friend's less-than-caring father.
So, it hadn't come as a surprise to Wilson when just a few days before dying, the diagnostician had almost begged him to be the legal guardian of the child. He had told Wilson that he didn't want to leave the care of his son to Dominika; that the boy would only be a way to get what she wanted: the citizenship, and that this fact meant that his son could be in a home where he was not wanted but a mere tool. He had looked at Wilson with an openness and a sincerity that the oncologist had never witnessed in his friend and had told him that he didn't want his son to have such a miserable childhood as himself had had. When Wilson had looked into those impossibly blue eyes that were looking at him with so much fear and love, he knew he was damned. He could not deny anything to House, not when he was looking so vulnerable. And, although he knew nothing about bringing up children, he had promised House to do his best. That had seemed enough for his friend who had smiled and relaxed visibly.
The diagnosis of House's illness had coincided with the appearance of his son. Wilson remembered how Dr. Adams had told him about his suspicions about House being ill. As expected, his stubborn friend had avoided him for some time. But, in the end, he had surrendered and had let his team –and himself- to diagnose him.
It had been House himself who had entered in Wilson's office with a grim expression in his face and a carpet in his hand. He had heavily sat on the couch and had been quiet for almost a minute without looking at his friend. Wilson had become more upset with every second passing. That behavior had been a bad sign.
He had asked House if he had solved the puzzle. He had tried to sound cheering, but it had actually been lame. Perhaps, if his voice hadn't trembled so much while saying it…