Fic: I'm Here For You
Title: I’m Here For You
Characters: House, Wilson
Rating: G
Warnings: Spoilers for 5x20 “Simple Explanation”.
Word Count: 589 words
Summary: Set after the episode. Wilson goes round to visit House.
Disclaimer: Don’t own House. It all belongs to David Shore and co.
A/N: The photo House is looking at is this one, if any of you are wondering.
Wilson knocks on House’s door. There is no answer, but then again House rarely answers his door anyway.
“House!” He knocks again. There are no signs of life from within, no sounds of movement. Wilsons sighs and hunts in his pockets for the key to House’s apartment - knowing House, it’s better to be safe than sorry. Sometimes Wilson wonders why he ever bothers to knock. He unlocks the door and gently pushes it open.
“House?”
The apartment is dark - all the lights are off. Light from the foyer spills in and illuminates the apartment slightly; in the darkness the piano glistens; long and strange shadows are cast by the many stacks of books and magazines littering the place and, at the centre of Wilson’s attention, the light reveals the shadowy outline of one Gregory House, sitting on the couch appearing to be very deep in thought. He doesn’t even turn around or make any acknowledgement of Wilson’s presence.
Wilson doesn’t need to ask what he’s thinking about. House had left the hospital without a word as soon as he’d heard the news about his patient’s condition. Wilson had assumed House had gone back to Kutner’s, looking for more clues about his death. He’d been content to leave House be then, but now, three unanswered phone calls and several hours later, Wilson was worried. He had no idea how much House was or wasn’t shaken by this or how he would react. He winces a little as he turns the lights on, eyes having adjusted to the gloom of the apartment. Moving closer to House, he can see the man is looking at a photo of Kutner. Wilson gives a small smile - he can picture the scene perfectly in his head; House, having found something that represented the secret side of Kutner as it were had taken it and obsessed over it, looking for tiny things to spark his memory; looking for the answers; the logic that made the puzzle fit together and not bothering about anything else because the answers are all that matters.
He reaches over and grasps the photo. House looks up at him and, for a second, their eyes meet. For a second, Wilson can see the confusion, grief and depression in House’s eyes, the feelings he knows House would never let anyone else see. He sees how red they are and knows House has been crying. House blinks, breaking the spell and releases his grip on the photo.
“Obsessing won’t help you figure this out,” Wilson says, sitting beside House.
The other man looks at him. “I just ... There has to have been something. Just... one thing, anything. I could’ve seen it and... and not realised, I...” His voice breaks off, and he looks down.
“House.” Wilson’s voice is firm. “You’re not superhuman. People make mistakes. Sitting here spending all your time obsessing over it will help no one. You’re in shock. If there was something, you’ll remember with time. If there wasn’t, you’ll just drive yourself crazy trying to find it.” He hesitates before putting his hand on House’s leg, in what he hopes is a reassuring gesture. I’m here for you.
House nods slowly, staring at the floor and then grabs Wilson’s hand and squeezes it tightly. Wilson squeezes back and they sit like that until House regains composure. He lets go of Wilson’s hand suddenly, as if guilty, and limps off to find his Vicodin.
Wilson, still sitting on the couch, smiles to himself. “So, you want to get some pizza?”
Characters: House, Wilson
Rating: G
Warnings: Spoilers for 5x20 “Simple Explanation”.
Word Count: 589 words
Summary: Set after the episode. Wilson goes round to visit House.
Disclaimer: Don’t own House. It all belongs to David Shore and co.
A/N: The photo House is looking at is this one, if any of you are wondering.
Wilson knocks on House’s door. There is no answer, but then again House rarely answers his door anyway.
“House!” He knocks again. There are no signs of life from within, no sounds of movement. Wilsons sighs and hunts in his pockets for the key to House’s apartment - knowing House, it’s better to be safe than sorry. Sometimes Wilson wonders why he ever bothers to knock. He unlocks the door and gently pushes it open.
“House?”
The apartment is dark - all the lights are off. Light from the foyer spills in and illuminates the apartment slightly; in the darkness the piano glistens; long and strange shadows are cast by the many stacks of books and magazines littering the place and, at the centre of Wilson’s attention, the light reveals the shadowy outline of one Gregory House, sitting on the couch appearing to be very deep in thought. He doesn’t even turn around or make any acknowledgement of Wilson’s presence.
Wilson doesn’t need to ask what he’s thinking about. House had left the hospital without a word as soon as he’d heard the news about his patient’s condition. Wilson had assumed House had gone back to Kutner’s, looking for more clues about his death. He’d been content to leave House be then, but now, three unanswered phone calls and several hours later, Wilson was worried. He had no idea how much House was or wasn’t shaken by this or how he would react. He winces a little as he turns the lights on, eyes having adjusted to the gloom of the apartment. Moving closer to House, he can see the man is looking at a photo of Kutner. Wilson gives a small smile - he can picture the scene perfectly in his head; House, having found something that represented the secret side of Kutner as it were had taken it and obsessed over it, looking for tiny things to spark his memory; looking for the answers; the logic that made the puzzle fit together and not bothering about anything else because the answers are all that matters.
He reaches over and grasps the photo. House looks up at him and, for a second, their eyes meet. For a second, Wilson can see the confusion, grief and depression in House’s eyes, the feelings he knows House would never let anyone else see. He sees how red they are and knows House has been crying. House blinks, breaking the spell and releases his grip on the photo.
“Obsessing won’t help you figure this out,” Wilson says, sitting beside House.
The other man looks at him. “I just ... There has to have been something. Just... one thing, anything. I could’ve seen it and... and not realised, I...” His voice breaks off, and he looks down.
“House.” Wilson’s voice is firm. “You’re not superhuman. People make mistakes. Sitting here spending all your time obsessing over it will help no one. You’re in shock. If there was something, you’ll remember with time. If there wasn’t, you’ll just drive yourself crazy trying to find it.” He hesitates before putting his hand on House’s leg, in what he hopes is a reassuring gesture. I’m here for you.
House nods slowly, staring at the floor and then grabs Wilson’s hand and squeezes it tightly. Wilson squeezes back and they sit like that until House regains composure. He lets go of Wilson’s hand suddenly, as if guilty, and limps off to find his Vicodin.
Wilson, still sitting on the couch, smiles to himself. “So, you want to get some pizza?”