"The Mystery of Starlight"; H/W one-shot
Title: The Mystery of Starlight
Pairing: House/Wilson pre-slash
Rating: PG (language)
Word Count: approx 1250
A/N: This is written for the book challenge meme. I can't remember who I stole the idea from, but thanks ^^
The book is "the curious incident of the dog in the night-time" by Mark Haddon.
The Challenge: Pick a novel (or book), preferably one of more than 100 pages in length, and take the first (full) sentence off of the top of page; 10, 20, 30, 40 & ect. Until you have ten quotes.
Take said ten quotes and write drabbles based on them. You can use the whole quote, or just a section, even a word - all that matters is that you stay faithful to the first sentence part of the challenge.
10. And then I thought about how for a long time scientists were puzzled by the fact that the sky is dark at night, even though there are billions of stars in the universe, and there must be stars in every direction you look, so that the sky should be full of starlight because there is very little in the way to stop the light from reaching earth.
He thinks his deepest thoughts when lying in bed, trying to sleep. Things that elude him during the day come begging for answers, questions he avoids when exhaustion isn't nagging at his brain.
The pain helps, gives him something to focus on besides feelings he can't categorize, or begin to understand. He can take a pill, dull the swarm of thoughts.
As a young boy, he would lie with his feet propped against the window next to his bed watching the stars; his mind sprawling, uncontained. He misses that freedom of rumination, when emotion, fear, and responsibility were unknowns.
20. And this is why everything I have written here is true.
The therapist urges him to write his thoughts, feelings in a journal. He refuses, of course, laughing to Wilson about her use of the dreams, hopes, aspirations theme. "You should have been a therapist."
Wilson grimaces, and takes another sip from his longneck. Later, he drunkenly pushes a napkin at House, slurring, "Write it down. Whatever you want. Give it to me, y'know I won't read it."
House finds himself complying, days later, when his feelings for Wilson are almost overwhelming in their intensity. He shoves the napkin in an envelope and hands it to Wilson over lunch.
True to his word, Wilson doesn't read it. House isn't sure how that makes him feel.
30. You must ask them if you can have a go.
He wants what he can't have, or rather, he wants what he isn't sure he'll be allowed to have.
Asking is out of the question. He hints, he teases, he alludes. There is banter, there is sarcasm, there is snark. There is not asking. There is not even telling. He has never before in his life been in a position where he is without words, but there is something about the idea of losing Wilson that stops his tongue, every time.
He continues to observe, to experiment, hoping against hope that the words will come, that he'll find a way past this obstacle. He is tired of living without what he wants, what he needs.
If only he could find the words.
40. And she said, "It's very nice of you to come and say hello."
House views patients as a work hazard. If at all possible, they are to be avoided. If not possible, one must proceed with extreme caution.
The old lady whose personality is presently permeating throughout the cancer ward is not one of those people.
She's vitriolic, she's loud, she demands attention and respect. House likes her immediately. She doesn't like him at all, but that's not unusual. Her children are the lowest of the lowest scum on earth, and their fathers (both deceased) are no better.
She likes her cats, she likes General Hospital, and she likes Dr. Wilson, not necessarily in that order.
House visits with her every day.
50. Look at me.
House doesn't view his visiting this particular patient as a change within himself. If something or someone interests him, he has no choice but to study them, until he has exhausted their capacity for holding his attention.
Wilson, however, sees it differently. Watching House with the old battle-axe, as he so affectionately calls her, shows him a side of House that had only existed theoretically for him before.
House is strangely solicitous, almost sweet in his dealings with the old woman, taking his tongue-lashings with an uncharacteristic good grace that leaves Wilson wondering just how much he really knows about House.
60. So I'm going to explain why I said what I said.
He hears them fighting as he leaves the elevator, and he jogs to the room of his oldest, most volatile patient. The argument has left them both flushed and panting, heaving for air.
"House!" Wilson scolds, pushing his friend from the room. "She doesn't have the strength to argue with you."
House scowls, but says nothing. Wilson returns to his patient, checking her vitals and trying to subtly ascertain what the hell the two had been fighting over.
"He's a damned fool," she growls, smacking his hands away from her wrist. "Doesn't know what he's got, and too afraid to open his stupid mouth and keep it."
Wilson questions House, but no answer is forthcoming.
70. James Mortimer also has an ancient scroll which describes the curse of the Baskervilles.
By the next day, the fight has blown over, apparently, as House is once more ensconced in a chair, reading diligently from a book.
Wilson enters the room quietly, glancing over Mrs. Kelly's chart, and pretending that he's not enjoying listening to House's voice. The rolling baritone has lulled her almost into sleep, but she's in too much pain to fall off just yet.
Wilson can't say why he decides to stay, only that he feels comfortable, and House's voice is soothing. He pulls up a chair, and with permission, takes the old lady's hand in his. Her skin is paper-thin, her fingers cold as ice.
She makes a pleased sound in the back of her throat when House comes to the part where Watson discovers Holmes on the moor.
80. I like this bit because it shows you that there is always something new that science can discover, and all the facts that you take for granted can be completely wrong.
House decides that there is a possibility that his friend (for such she is, no matter what they both say) might possibly be suffering from another illness along with the cancer.
Despite Wilson's best efforts to the contrary, House gains permission to put her under treatment. She is, at this point, in so much pain that she is desperate. Sometimes, hope is even more cruel than despair.
It doesn't seem like House, to pursue this, but pursue it he does. When he finds exactly what he's looking for, Wilson doesn't know whether to kiss or hit him. "She's dying, House. You have to accept that."
"Not today, she isn't."
90. And this shows that sometimes people want to be stupid and they do not want to know the truth.
Mrs. Kelly is still dying. She isn't in as much pain, at the moment, and maybe that's the most they can hope for, right now. She calls for Dr. Wilson, but he's already gone home. The nurses page him, and he rushes over as quickly as possible.
"I'm going," she says simply, "And there's nothing can stop me. Before I go, I have to break a promise to a friend. I haven't had many friends..."
She coughs, and Wilson waits patiently as she waves his offer of ice or water away. "He loves you. Loves you too damned much to tell you, but I'm telling you. He needs you."
Wilson is still shaking his head in disbelief when her eyes slide closed.
100. Lots of things are mysteries.
House is leaning back in a chair on the balcony, his legs propped up on the stone wall. His head is thrown back and he is watching the sky.
"She's gone," Wilson murmurs, pulling up a chair beside him. He mirrors House's position, but the lights from the city have drowned out any stars.
"I know." His voice betrays no emotion, but he holds his hand out to Wilson, and Wilson finds himself clasping House's hand briefly. The warmth of his touch is comforting.
They sit together in silence, watching the clouds roll darkly against the night sky.
Pairing: House/Wilson pre-slash
Rating: PG (language)
Word Count: approx 1250
A/N: This is written for the book challenge meme. I can't remember who I stole the idea from, but thanks ^^
The book is "the curious incident of the dog in the night-time" by Mark Haddon.
The Challenge: Pick a novel (or book), preferably one of more than 100 pages in length, and take the first (full) sentence off of the top of page; 10, 20, 30, 40 & ect. Until you have ten quotes.
Take said ten quotes and write drabbles based on them. You can use the whole quote, or just a section, even a word - all that matters is that you stay faithful to the first sentence part of the challenge.
10. And then I thought about how for a long time scientists were puzzled by the fact that the sky is dark at night, even though there are billions of stars in the universe, and there must be stars in every direction you look, so that the sky should be full of starlight because there is very little in the way to stop the light from reaching earth.
He thinks his deepest thoughts when lying in bed, trying to sleep. Things that elude him during the day come begging for answers, questions he avoids when exhaustion isn't nagging at his brain.
The pain helps, gives him something to focus on besides feelings he can't categorize, or begin to understand. He can take a pill, dull the swarm of thoughts.
As a young boy, he would lie with his feet propped against the window next to his bed watching the stars; his mind sprawling, uncontained. He misses that freedom of rumination, when emotion, fear, and responsibility were unknowns.
20. And this is why everything I have written here is true.
The therapist urges him to write his thoughts, feelings in a journal. He refuses, of course, laughing to Wilson about her use of the dreams, hopes, aspirations theme. "You should have been a therapist."
Wilson grimaces, and takes another sip from his longneck. Later, he drunkenly pushes a napkin at House, slurring, "Write it down. Whatever you want. Give it to me, y'know I won't read it."
House finds himself complying, days later, when his feelings for Wilson are almost overwhelming in their intensity. He shoves the napkin in an envelope and hands it to Wilson over lunch.
True to his word, Wilson doesn't read it. House isn't sure how that makes him feel.
30. You must ask them if you can have a go.
He wants what he can't have, or rather, he wants what he isn't sure he'll be allowed to have.
Asking is out of the question. He hints, he teases, he alludes. There is banter, there is sarcasm, there is snark. There is not asking. There is not even telling. He has never before in his life been in a position where he is without words, but there is something about the idea of losing Wilson that stops his tongue, every time.
He continues to observe, to experiment, hoping against hope that the words will come, that he'll find a way past this obstacle. He is tired of living without what he wants, what he needs.
If only he could find the words.
40. And she said, "It's very nice of you to come and say hello."
House views patients as a work hazard. If at all possible, they are to be avoided. If not possible, one must proceed with extreme caution.
The old lady whose personality is presently permeating throughout the cancer ward is not one of those people.
She's vitriolic, she's loud, she demands attention and respect. House likes her immediately. She doesn't like him at all, but that's not unusual. Her children are the lowest of the lowest scum on earth, and their fathers (both deceased) are no better.
She likes her cats, she likes General Hospital, and she likes Dr. Wilson, not necessarily in that order.
House visits with her every day.
50. Look at me.
House doesn't view his visiting this particular patient as a change within himself. If something or someone interests him, he has no choice but to study them, until he has exhausted their capacity for holding his attention.
Wilson, however, sees it differently. Watching House with the old battle-axe, as he so affectionately calls her, shows him a side of House that had only existed theoretically for him before.
House is strangely solicitous, almost sweet in his dealings with the old woman, taking his tongue-lashings with an uncharacteristic good grace that leaves Wilson wondering just how much he really knows about House.
60. So I'm going to explain why I said what I said.
He hears them fighting as he leaves the elevator, and he jogs to the room of his oldest, most volatile patient. The argument has left them both flushed and panting, heaving for air.
"House!" Wilson scolds, pushing his friend from the room. "She doesn't have the strength to argue with you."
House scowls, but says nothing. Wilson returns to his patient, checking her vitals and trying to subtly ascertain what the hell the two had been fighting over.
"He's a damned fool," she growls, smacking his hands away from her wrist. "Doesn't know what he's got, and too afraid to open his stupid mouth and keep it."
Wilson questions House, but no answer is forthcoming.
70. James Mortimer also has an ancient scroll which describes the curse of the Baskervilles.
By the next day, the fight has blown over, apparently, as House is once more ensconced in a chair, reading diligently from a book.
Wilson enters the room quietly, glancing over Mrs. Kelly's chart, and pretending that he's not enjoying listening to House's voice. The rolling baritone has lulled her almost into sleep, but she's in too much pain to fall off just yet.
Wilson can't say why he decides to stay, only that he feels comfortable, and House's voice is soothing. He pulls up a chair, and with permission, takes the old lady's hand in his. Her skin is paper-thin, her fingers cold as ice.
She makes a pleased sound in the back of her throat when House comes to the part where Watson discovers Holmes on the moor.
80. I like this bit because it shows you that there is always something new that science can discover, and all the facts that you take for granted can be completely wrong.
House decides that there is a possibility that his friend (for such she is, no matter what they both say) might possibly be suffering from another illness along with the cancer.
Despite Wilson's best efforts to the contrary, House gains permission to put her under treatment. She is, at this point, in so much pain that she is desperate. Sometimes, hope is even more cruel than despair.
It doesn't seem like House, to pursue this, but pursue it he does. When he finds exactly what he's looking for, Wilson doesn't know whether to kiss or hit him. "She's dying, House. You have to accept that."
"Not today, she isn't."
90. And this shows that sometimes people want to be stupid and they do not want to know the truth.
Mrs. Kelly is still dying. She isn't in as much pain, at the moment, and maybe that's the most they can hope for, right now. She calls for Dr. Wilson, but he's already gone home. The nurses page him, and he rushes over as quickly as possible.
"I'm going," she says simply, "And there's nothing can stop me. Before I go, I have to break a promise to a friend. I haven't had many friends..."
She coughs, and Wilson waits patiently as she waves his offer of ice or water away. "He loves you. Loves you too damned much to tell you, but I'm telling you. He needs you."
Wilson is still shaking his head in disbelief when her eyes slide closed.
100. Lots of things are mysteries.
House is leaning back in a chair on the balcony, his legs propped up on the stone wall. His head is thrown back and he is watching the sky.
"She's gone," Wilson murmurs, pulling up a chair beside him. He mirrors House's position, but the lights from the city have drowned out any stars.
"I know." His voice betrays no emotion, but he holds his hand out to Wilson, and Wilson finds himself clasping House's hand briefly. The warmth of his touch is comforting.
They sit together in silence, watching the clouds roll darkly against the night sky.