Fic: After All
Title: After All
Fandom: House MD
Pairing: House/Wilson/Amber
Word Count: 1550
Rating: PG
Warning: Spoilers for 4x15 and 4x16
Note: This serves a double purpose, woohoo! One, it's for my prompt table. Prompt 08: Patience, and two it is for savemoony 's birthday! She turned 21 a few days ago, and she was ever so sad about not getting any fic to commemorate that, so I wrote her something. =P
After Amber died, House couldn't get her out of his head. Literally. The instant he fell asleep, it seemed, he was back on that bus, bathed in light, seated next to Amber. She was wearing that same light pink outfit, no shoes, a serene expression on her face. It nauseated him, just a little.
At first, he tried to ignore her. Tried to will himself to dream something else, to see something else, to get off that damned bus without actually stepping off of it and waking up. He failed miserably at this, and his days spent at the hospital in recovery were relatively sleepless ones.
After he was discharged and sent home, he figured the dreams would stop, she would go away, but they didn't, and she stayed. He finally gave in to the fact that he may have to speak to her, see what she wanted, to make the madness stop. Two weeks after she first started silently pestering him, he asked her what she wanted.
She turned to him, a slight smile on her face. 'I don't know, House, what do I want?'
He rolled his eyes, not wanting to play this game at all. 'If you want to know the goings ons of Wilson, go bug him.'
'No, I need to bug you.'
House grumbled in annoyance and folded his arms over the seat in front of him, resting his head on them once properly situated. He didn't talk to Amber again that night.
The next day was spent pondering over why it was she felt the need to bother him. It was a silly thing to wander about, he thought, as it was obviously his messed up mind bothering him, not Amber herself, but it still bugged him. He wanted very badly to tell Wilson about the dreams, to see if he had any insight as to why House just couldn't make Amber go away, but Wilson was still depressed about the events that had transpired, and House somehow didn't think telling him he'd been dreaming about his dead girlfriend would help at all.
That night, he spoke to her for a third time.
'Why do you have to bug me?' He wasn't expecting a straight answer, which is why he was a bit taken aback by Amber's reply.
'Because, unfortunately, you're the only one who can help Wilson right now, and you're not exactly up for the Best Friend of the Year award, are you?' The serene expression and small smile she usually had in these dreams was gone, replaced by an aggravated look and a dry tone. He almost wanted to smile, that was more like the Amber he knew. She rolled her eyes at him. 'Well?'
He shrugged. 'What exactly can I do?'
'I'm sure you can think of something.'
---
House entered Wilson's office, finding him bent over his desk, mindlessly working on some paperwork, a slight frown on his face. Wilson didn't look up when he entered, so House cleared his throat.
That got Wilson's attention, and he looked over at House. 'Yes?'
House sighed and fiddled with his cane for a moment. This was going to be ridiculous, but he had to do it. He had to get Wilson out of this slump of his. 'I'm sorry,' he finally said.
Wilson looked confused, so he continued. 'For... what happened. For everything. I'm just... I'm sorry.' He was hoping Wilson got the point, as he really didn't want to get more into it than that. Luckily, Wilson understood. He sighed a heavy sort of sigh House was really getting sick of and nodded.
'Thanks, House.'
Somehow, House felt that really didn't work as he had hoped it would.
---
'You have terrible ideas, CB, I don't know why I believed that would work.' He was back on that bus with Amber. She'd felt the need to changed clothes, apparently, as she was now in jeans and a light green t-shirt. Probably got sick of being all dressed up, he thought.
Amber laughed a little. 'Well, it wasn't my idea, it was yours.'
'Whatever. It didn't work.'
'You know,' Amber said. 'If you expect something out of an apology, it isn't a very sincere one.'
House rolled his eyes at her. 'I wasn't expecting anything out of it, I was hoping it would help him. That seems to be what you're going for as well, so help me come up with something better.'
Amber gazed out the window, a thoughtful expression on her face. 'He wasn't mad at you, so I suppose an apology wouldn't really do much.'
House had never actually considered that. Wilson had been so distant since Amber's death, he just assumed part of it was resentment toward House. But, now that he really thought about it, Wilson didn't appear to be actively avoiding him, and he spoke to House whenever he sought him out. He just didn't seem all there, he was just... grieving. House groaned at how stupid he'd been, too wrapped up in the thought that Wilson must hate him to notice that he clearly didn't.
'He just needs a friend, House. He just needs you to show him that there is still somebody who cares about him.' Amber was looking at him again, a sadness tainting her smile. He almost wanted her to get mad at him again.
'How am I suppose to do that?'
---
After work that night, he barged into Wilson's office and sat himself in the extra chair at his friend's desk. Wilson looked startled at the sudden intrusion, as House hadn't exactly been doing that a lot lately. 'What's up?' he asked.
'You, sir, are coming with me.' House began putting Wilson's papers back inside folders, making a stack as he did so. He didn't see the point of it, but he figured he'd do it now, before Wilson could use having to clean up as an excuse for not doing whatever it was House had planned.
Wilson sighed. 'I'm kind of busy, House.'
'It can wait.' House finished up with his task. 'None of this paperwork needs to be filled out this instant, and you need a break.'
Wilson stared at him for a moment before before nodding. 'Okay, I guess you're right. What did you have in mind?'
'Oh, you know, just thought we'd go back to my place, watch old movies and cry, that sort of thing,' House replied with a grin.
Wilson actually returned the grin, and House saw that as a minor sort of triumph.
---
House was passed out on the couch with Wilson the next time he paid a visit to Amber. She somehow knew this, even knew the reason why, but it only seemed to amuse her, so House didn't mind her knowing all that much.
'You're totally not going to get any from him if you keep getting him drunk like this.' Amber laughed at the bewildered expression on House's face and added, 'Oh come on, I know you want to.'
'You, ma'am, are ridiculous.' House laughed, too. He was still a bit buzzed from the beer he'd been drinking when he was awake, and he felt good, right now. Amber wasn't exactly his first choice of company, but he was finally able to admit (to himself, anyway) that she really wasn't all that bad, and besides, Wilson would be there when he woke up.
'I'm not getting any, so you might as well.'
House snorted with laughter. Oh yeah, she definitely wasn't all that bad.
---
House invited Wilson over to his apartment a few times a week. Most of the time they just sat around, watching bad television and drinking beer. Sometimes they'd rent a video, or order a pizza. Every now and then they'd go out somewhere else, bowling, or to a movie, maybe just for a drive. Amber had suggested going out to dinner, but House didn't exactly see any reason to do so.
'He's getting better,' Amber observed during one of their night time chats.
'Yeah, I suppose he is.' Amber was right. Wilson had been noticeably improving over the past few weeks. He smiled more, he laughed more, he seemed to be coming out of his depression. He was by no means completely over Amber's death, he most likely never would be, but he was starting to move on.
'There's not much reason for me to keeping bothering you, then, I suppose.' Amber's voice sounded sad, and House felt bad for her, in a most uncharacteristic sort of way.
'Do you really need a reason to bother me? I mean, you're kind of a bitch, you'd do it just because you could.' If House and Amber had been anybody else, that probably wouldn't have been the best thing to say, but House wasn't going to give a long monologue about how he rather enjoyed the talks they had, or about how she deserved to at least hear what Wilson was up to, and Amber probably wouldn't have appreciated it anyway.
She smiled at him. 'Well then, you're not going to have a normal dream for a long, long time.'
House found he didn't mind the thought of that all that much.
Fandom: House MD
Pairing: House/Wilson/Amber
Word Count: 1550
Rating: PG
Warning: Spoilers for 4x15 and 4x16
Note: This serves a double purpose, woohoo! One, it's for my prompt table. Prompt 08: Patience, and two it is for savemoony 's birthday! She turned 21 a few days ago, and she was ever so sad about not getting any fic to commemorate that, so I wrote her something. =P
After Amber died, House couldn't get her out of his head. Literally. The instant he fell asleep, it seemed, he was back on that bus, bathed in light, seated next to Amber. She was wearing that same light pink outfit, no shoes, a serene expression on her face. It nauseated him, just a little.
At first, he tried to ignore her. Tried to will himself to dream something else, to see something else, to get off that damned bus without actually stepping off of it and waking up. He failed miserably at this, and his days spent at the hospital in recovery were relatively sleepless ones.
After he was discharged and sent home, he figured the dreams would stop, she would go away, but they didn't, and she stayed. He finally gave in to the fact that he may have to speak to her, see what she wanted, to make the madness stop. Two weeks after she first started silently pestering him, he asked her what she wanted.
She turned to him, a slight smile on her face. 'I don't know, House, what do I want?'
He rolled his eyes, not wanting to play this game at all. 'If you want to know the goings ons of Wilson, go bug him.'
'No, I need to bug you.'
House grumbled in annoyance and folded his arms over the seat in front of him, resting his head on them once properly situated. He didn't talk to Amber again that night.
The next day was spent pondering over why it was she felt the need to bother him. It was a silly thing to wander about, he thought, as it was obviously his messed up mind bothering him, not Amber herself, but it still bugged him. He wanted very badly to tell Wilson about the dreams, to see if he had any insight as to why House just couldn't make Amber go away, but Wilson was still depressed about the events that had transpired, and House somehow didn't think telling him he'd been dreaming about his dead girlfriend would help at all.
That night, he spoke to her for a third time.
'Why do you have to bug me?' He wasn't expecting a straight answer, which is why he was a bit taken aback by Amber's reply.
'Because, unfortunately, you're the only one who can help Wilson right now, and you're not exactly up for the Best Friend of the Year award, are you?' The serene expression and small smile she usually had in these dreams was gone, replaced by an aggravated look and a dry tone. He almost wanted to smile, that was more like the Amber he knew. She rolled her eyes at him. 'Well?'
He shrugged. 'What exactly can I do?'
'I'm sure you can think of something.'
---
House entered Wilson's office, finding him bent over his desk, mindlessly working on some paperwork, a slight frown on his face. Wilson didn't look up when he entered, so House cleared his throat.
That got Wilson's attention, and he looked over at House. 'Yes?'
House sighed and fiddled with his cane for a moment. This was going to be ridiculous, but he had to do it. He had to get Wilson out of this slump of his. 'I'm sorry,' he finally said.
Wilson looked confused, so he continued. 'For... what happened. For everything. I'm just... I'm sorry.' He was hoping Wilson got the point, as he really didn't want to get more into it than that. Luckily, Wilson understood. He sighed a heavy sort of sigh House was really getting sick of and nodded.
'Thanks, House.'
Somehow, House felt that really didn't work as he had hoped it would.
---
'You have terrible ideas, CB, I don't know why I believed that would work.' He was back on that bus with Amber. She'd felt the need to changed clothes, apparently, as she was now in jeans and a light green t-shirt. Probably got sick of being all dressed up, he thought.
Amber laughed a little. 'Well, it wasn't my idea, it was yours.'
'Whatever. It didn't work.'
'You know,' Amber said. 'If you expect something out of an apology, it isn't a very sincere one.'
House rolled his eyes at her. 'I wasn't expecting anything out of it, I was hoping it would help him. That seems to be what you're going for as well, so help me come up with something better.'
Amber gazed out the window, a thoughtful expression on her face. 'He wasn't mad at you, so I suppose an apology wouldn't really do much.'
House had never actually considered that. Wilson had been so distant since Amber's death, he just assumed part of it was resentment toward House. But, now that he really thought about it, Wilson didn't appear to be actively avoiding him, and he spoke to House whenever he sought him out. He just didn't seem all there, he was just... grieving. House groaned at how stupid he'd been, too wrapped up in the thought that Wilson must hate him to notice that he clearly didn't.
'He just needs a friend, House. He just needs you to show him that there is still somebody who cares about him.' Amber was looking at him again, a sadness tainting her smile. He almost wanted her to get mad at him again.
'How am I suppose to do that?'
---
After work that night, he barged into Wilson's office and sat himself in the extra chair at his friend's desk. Wilson looked startled at the sudden intrusion, as House hadn't exactly been doing that a lot lately. 'What's up?' he asked.
'You, sir, are coming with me.' House began putting Wilson's papers back inside folders, making a stack as he did so. He didn't see the point of it, but he figured he'd do it now, before Wilson could use having to clean up as an excuse for not doing whatever it was House had planned.
Wilson sighed. 'I'm kind of busy, House.'
'It can wait.' House finished up with his task. 'None of this paperwork needs to be filled out this instant, and you need a break.'
Wilson stared at him for a moment before before nodding. 'Okay, I guess you're right. What did you have in mind?'
'Oh, you know, just thought we'd go back to my place, watch old movies and cry, that sort of thing,' House replied with a grin.
Wilson actually returned the grin, and House saw that as a minor sort of triumph.
---
House was passed out on the couch with Wilson the next time he paid a visit to Amber. She somehow knew this, even knew the reason why, but it only seemed to amuse her, so House didn't mind her knowing all that much.
'You're totally not going to get any from him if you keep getting him drunk like this.' Amber laughed at the bewildered expression on House's face and added, 'Oh come on, I know you want to.'
'You, ma'am, are ridiculous.' House laughed, too. He was still a bit buzzed from the beer he'd been drinking when he was awake, and he felt good, right now. Amber wasn't exactly his first choice of company, but he was finally able to admit (to himself, anyway) that she really wasn't all that bad, and besides, Wilson would be there when he woke up.
'I'm not getting any, so you might as well.'
House snorted with laughter. Oh yeah, she definitely wasn't all that bad.
---
House invited Wilson over to his apartment a few times a week. Most of the time they just sat around, watching bad television and drinking beer. Sometimes they'd rent a video, or order a pizza. Every now and then they'd go out somewhere else, bowling, or to a movie, maybe just for a drive. Amber had suggested going out to dinner, but House didn't exactly see any reason to do so.
'He's getting better,' Amber observed during one of their night time chats.
'Yeah, I suppose he is.' Amber was right. Wilson had been noticeably improving over the past few weeks. He smiled more, he laughed more, he seemed to be coming out of his depression. He was by no means completely over Amber's death, he most likely never would be, but he was starting to move on.
'There's not much reason for me to keeping bothering you, then, I suppose.' Amber's voice sounded sad, and House felt bad for her, in a most uncharacteristic sort of way.
'Do you really need a reason to bother me? I mean, you're kind of a bitch, you'd do it just because you could.' If House and Amber had been anybody else, that probably wouldn't have been the best thing to say, but House wasn't going to give a long monologue about how he rather enjoyed the talks they had, or about how she deserved to at least hear what Wilson was up to, and Amber probably wouldn't have appreciated it anyway.
She smiled at him. 'Well then, you're not going to have a normal dream for a long, long time.'
House found he didn't mind the thought of that all that much.