Because killing House only once is lame...
Title: The Five Times House Died, and the One Time He Didn't
Fandom: House, M.D.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,562
Pairings: House/Wilson FS, House/Cuddy FS
Notes: It may be sad, but I'm not sure since I have a heart of stone and all...
Special thanks to arhh for the beta! :D
1. Infarction
House never excluded the possibility that he would die young (if age 45 counted as young at least these days); however, dying of a pulmonary embolism wasn't on his list of fatal scenarios.
...Or maybe it was for all he knew. Apparently thinking clearly isn't one of the brain's highest priorities when it's struggling to hold onto life.
He realized that the clot in question was most-likely blocking one of the smaller, but major arteries of his lungs. He knew, as he lay there on the floor beside his piano, that there was nothing else within his power to do except wait for his inevitable defeat.
House felt a wash of various thoughts come to mind, the realization that he had failed himself yet again for not realizing the likelihood of there being more clots after the more recent one in his thigh muscle, the regret that the last major thing he had done in his life was successfully pushing the only person he was sure he loved away, and that if he wasn't so damn stubborn that he had time to call for help instead of passing it off on stress and anger.
There was one thing he was sure he was happy about though, and that was the fact that he would no longer be 'here' to be a hindrance to anybody else. That had to count for something at least.
2. Shooting
Chase was there when he died. Foreman had run out for assistance, which in it of itself was a vain action, and Cameron had looked away, making her 'there' in a physical sense, but as absent as everyone else who had missed the one-time event.
Cuddy took out her frustrations at his death verbally, at everyone within earshot until months after the funeral. Her depression at his passing was naked in her actions, but everyone else around here was polite or just intimidated to speak against her obvious denial.
"It was his own fault," she often said, "if he wasn't such a damn stubborn idiot, he'd be fine." Despite the years passing and Cuddy reaching the era of acceptance in her life, she could never let that fact go.
Wilson had his own unique reaction to the unbelievable news. He seemingly went through the five stages of grief as one would normally expect, denial that he was really gone, angry at what happened and at him, bargaining his time to always be there for the people he cared about, depression that he no longer had someone to joke around with, and accepting that he was really gone. Wilson went through each stage evenly and accepted everyone else's well wishes so graciously that there was no cause for alarm, but that surface could not be farther from the truth hidden in Wilson's heart.
The truth was that Wilson simply could not find it within himself to care anymore. He felt lost every minute of his life; the only thing that he felt was 'sure' in his life was, ironically, the facade he established to the rest of the world. He had tried to wrap his head around every minute detail of that day, if there was anything he could have done differently that may have changed its eventual outcome, but the fact that it was all out of his control was unacceptable to him. It was an empty life he was doomed to live, but it was a choice Wilson made, a choice between moving on or being stuck in a world of unnecessary responsibility.
"He would have been fine," was always the same premise Wilson battled with. "They rushed him to the emergency room in time after the shooting; he could have been just fine."
The fact that House died because of an overdose of an illegal Ketamine treatment that he insisted on, without heeding the regard of everyone else, was the unwitting key Wilson needed to accept in order to move on in his life, and it was an act he refused to accept.
3. OD
House's cause of death was rather ironic given the circumstances regarding the recent events of the year. Having to avoid an insanely obsessive cop trying to close the book on House's drug use, or drug "abuse," was quite taxing and caused House to grow more of a dependence on the chemical gifts to society.
It was obvious that House would die of an overdose, an overdose of 'what', however, would have been a better question. When House was discovered on the floor of his apartment after two days of missing work, his case seemed pretty open-and-shut; but after Cameron's insistence and appeal to Cuddy, an autopsy was performed and a mystery was uncovered.
In the end, the team discovered it was actually a combination of drugs that brought House to his end. Although, no one could figure out how prescription-less antidepressants appeared in House's system. The only chance of an explanation had disappeared, in the form of a resignation letter found on Cuddy's desk, long before House's "diagnosis" had been uncovered.
4. House's Head
House slowly blinked a couple of times as his present reality began to merge with his recent memories of the previous night's events.
"Oh my God! He collapsed!"
"House! Stay with us! HOUSE!"
"No sign of a pulse! His heart stopped!"
" 'Heart stopped?' My heart?" House thought to himself with vague curiosity, "Shouldn't that hurt?"
However, the outside noises began to mix together in a sort of blur of sound to the point where House could no longer comprehend what was going on around him; he then met again with the mysterious lady-in-black of his dreams. After conversing with her and continuing to playing along with her game, House was finally able to put the facts together and put to rest the incomplete memory that was continually haunting him. As the memory flooded back to him all at once, House was forced to completely relive every scene of that night.
House blinked and the mysterious woman across from him suddenly took a familiar form, smiling at him as it taunting him with the message, "I was the answer all along."
Amber.
Then the world exploded bits of glass flew everywhere. Time seemed to unfreeze itself and the woman across from him fell on the ground, her purse being thrown in the other direction.
Amber.
He then realized that he himself was being forced out of his own seat and he grabbed the handrail reflexively. The woman wasn't as fortunate as she struggled to grasp onto something that was not there. Then the bus turned over ninety degrees taking everyone with it.
Amber!
Now the woman was across from him, her face reflected panic, but also a sense of determination. House then released that his arm was reaching out for hers and she was struggling to meet his hand. Eventually contact was made, but it was ripped away just as soon as it came.
AMBER!
The rest of the memory came back in short glimpses. The woman was sprawled out on cracked glass, injured with various wounds and scratches on her face. A pole was sticking out of her leg. She was shivering. She was afraid.
"Stay with me. Just stay with me..."
Men came. Then came into the bus and took her away. He followed them, he needed to follow them, he followed them out of the bus and into the crowd of injured bus passengers and paramedics. He was stopped by someone and became lost in the stranger's words. He kept walking, and walking, needing to find the men that took her away. Needing to find her.
"It was Amber!"
Suddenly, House knew the answer. He knew who he subconsciously and desperately needed to find. He finally remembered who was dying unless he could get to her. House looked up into the light trying to sort out the various emotions running through his mind, until the one that was most important pushed though, he had to tell Wilson.
The light began to fade and House felt his body shaking. He heard pounding, but that was beginning to fade away as well. House slowly closed his eyes as he realized that his price for this answer would be his life. Now there was no way he could let any of them, especially Wilson, learn what was so important about that night, who they were actually supposed to save.
House did have to admit that he was not surprised that his life would end with him falling short yet again.
5. Methadone
Wilson could only stare at House as he abandoned his cane in the nearest dumpster and limped past him without difficulty or even a wince of pain.
House turned back to him and raised his arms as if to show him the result of his insane risk was indeed worth it. "My leg doesn't hurt anymore."
Wilson continued to stare as House limped out of the alley and into the snow covered street. He stood frozen as House began to disappear from his sight and he still could not bring himself to move as he heard a loud crash and the various screams of random pedestrians.
It was not until the owner of the building stuck his head out of his door and asked Wilson what happened that Wilson realized that something was wrong. He quickly ran out into the street to see a crashed car, a drunken driver slumped over the wheel, and his unfortunate victim lying under the wreckage. The people surrounding the scene were all staring in shock or calling for help on their cell phones.
"The driver was drunk, and the roads must be icy."
"But the guy just walked out into the street! He didn't even look!"
"This is a neighborhood street; he should have been driving slowly anyway!"
"Is he ok?"
The various conversations barely registered in Wilson's mind as the whole situation felt incredibly surreal. He continued staring at the victim of the accident and hated how the most prominent feature of his face was a peaceful look that yelled, "I'm not in pain."
1. 97 Seconds
Amber power walked to the diagnostics office after receiving House's page. She wondered if he had suddenly figured out a new detail about the case that could answer her and Hadley's questions or if he was just watching them the entire time and was now ready to all them idiots. She hurriedly tried to think of some diseases to call off the top of head in case House needed an impromptu differential until she saw a huge flash of light erupting from his office. Amber ran towards the source yelling House's name, her mind coming up with all the worse-case-scenarios, but instead, found House to be sitting on the floor clutching his recently burned left hand. She casually leaned on the doorway trying to mask any inch of worry and panic from her face, "You paged me?"
House just hissed in response to her inquiry and Amber took that as a cue to move closer, as she did she saw the knife sticking from the wall socket. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Experiment," he replied. "We apparently don't have enough volts to power a simple charger."
"I've never seen a charger that looked like a knife before," Amber sighed sparing a glance at his hand, "C'mon, let's get you to the ER."
"Just get me some gauze and an extra prescription of codeine," House said trying to wave her off.
Amber stepped out into the hallway and raided the nurses' station for the necessary supplies. She returned quickly with fresh gauze and a suspicious disposition.
"Where's my codeine?" House whined.
She ignored his whining and swiftly began to wrap House's hand while bending down close to his face whispering, "What were you really trying to do?"
"Charge my dead vibrator. Why do you think I paged you?"
"What were you planning?"
House didn't answer her as his focus was on blocking out the pain so it would not show on his face. However, his brief winces did not get past Amber.
"You could have been really hurt."
"Oh? And what do you call this?" House waved his hand very slowly in the air, "Don't tell me I eliminated the wrong half of doctors." He got up from his chair and began leaving his office, "Go... tell everyone they can take the rest of the night off."
---
House sat on his motorcycle preparing to leave as he slowly moved his injured hand onto the handlebars. Just as he gripped them a familiar Volvo pulled up beside him and an even more familiar Wilson stepped out of the car. The two exchanged a glance without a word, House then looked down at the key in the ignition and Wilson stared at House's hand.
"...Do I even want to know?" Wilson waved the palms of his hands towards House in an infuriated manor.
"Remember when you said I've never been there?"
Wilson then threw his arms up in the air and paced around the bike in a mix of frustration and disbelief as he scoffed. "You idiot! Were all your in-human brushes with death not enough for you? Are you trying to rub in God, or whose ever face you were going to see, that you would finish what they started?!"
"They didn't seem to be enough for you when we first had this conversation." House turned and was staring at Wilson face-to-face.
"How do I even factor into this? I didn't force a slab of stolen clinic patient metal into your hand and tell you to run into the nearest outlet!"
"You presented a theory and I tested it."
"Yes, conductible knives proving or disproving the afterlife is sure to win you the Nobel Prize." Wilson put his hands on his hips, "this is serious House, how do we know you're not suicidal?"
"I am." House grinned sarcastically, "I want to lessen the burden of the world by taking out my poor, wretched soul. That way everyone will mourn at my funeral and realize how much of a gap has been left behind."
"That's not funny."
House turned away from him as he faced the outside road, "I'm going home."
Wilson firmly put his hand over House's burnt one, glaring at him. "You could have died today."
"There's a possibility that I can die everyday, why do you care?"
"Yes, such a surprise that I care that my best friend might have possibly died. Unexplainable I'm sure. Maybe if you weren't so willing to throw your life away for a random 'scientific theory' I wouldn't be so worried."
"Relax; even if my idea worked I had to set up my Cutthroat-Bitch failsafe in order to present my findings. What good is a proven theory if I couldn't tell anyone?"
Wilson just sighed and looked down, shaking his head. "Right, right. Well don't let me stand in your way."
House looked up and shook his head in frustration, debating whether or not he wanted to acknowledge his error in front of the one whose opinion actually mattered to him. "Wilson," House looked away from the man as he called out his name in a low voice, "...I'm sorry."