Daily Drabble #23
Daily Drabble #23
Rating: PG
Warning: kid!fic (part of the Church-verse); major character death
Word Count: 857 words
A/N:Running late with today's drabble, so yeah, I'll be completing it tomorrow. Ya'll don't hit me too hard, yeah?
Stacy watches with fascinated eyes as Wilson takes a long, steadying breath; suddenly, he no longer appears exhausted. Rather, he looks as he always does when involved in some prank or set-up of House's devising. Almost, she expects House to pop up behind her, bellowing to the crowd, "Gotcha!"
Unfortunately, it isn't so, but Wilson's mischievous, dancing eyes seem almost woefully out of place. He leans forward, conspiratorially, as if he is about to clue the whole of them in on the joke.
"One of the last conversations that I had with House concerned what I was going to say about him at his memorial. He was incredibly worried that some of you might leave this place thinking that he was a good man, or that there was anything great or awe-inspiring about him. 'I know you, Jimmy my boy,' he said, 'I know how you like to place me on a pedestal.'"
Wilson's mouth quirked slightly at the corner, an almost-smile, "Of course, that only let me know just how far gone he was." He eyes the audience, as if daring anyone to comment on that particular glimmer of dark humor.
"However, as I reminded him, House didn't believe in an after-life, or heaven, or any other such nonsense," Wilson shook his head, nose crinkling with amusement, "Which means that I can say whatever I want to about him now, with no fear of reprisal." There is an air of brimming hysteria around Wilson now, and Church's hands creep gently onto Wilson's shoulders.
Another deep breath. "I did promise, though, and besides, I do believe in some sort of hereafter. If I'm right, I might even get some answers to the great unanswered questions of our marriage, 'Who's right?', and 'Who gets the last word?'"
Stacy almost smiles at that, but her eyes betray her and begin weeping once more. Cameron leans over and pats her hand kindly, but she is also crying now.
"Over the years, I have been present at many funerals; for my friends, for my family, for my patients. At almost every one of these, there has been some sort of moral presented, in regards to how we treat the people we love. 'Go forth and make things right with your estranged loved ones.'; 'Hug your family members as much as possible, you never know what might happen.'; 'Don't take your family for granted, they're the only ones you have.'"
Wilson pauses, and he once again leans toward the audience. "You get the idea, right? Of course, these are all very wonderful, moving sentiments, and I'm sure we'll all take them to heart, just as we always do when faced with the death of another human being. For a day or two, maybe a week, we'll love our family, cherish them, and then, when the shock of death has passed on, we'll go back to our usual routine."
There is some subtle nodding and murmurs of assent, but Stacy's attention wanders for a moment as Cameron surreptitiously points out Chase entrance into the hall. "That's his boyfriend," she whispers happily, but Stacy only catches a flash of light and dark hair as the two of them quickly take a seat.
Wilson's voice again catches her attention, "...instead, in keeping with House's view of things, I'll ask you all to do something much more difficult. Go home, and tell someone exactly what you think about them."
His smile is infectious, and Church's lopsided smirk holds an echo of House's maniacal grin. "Be honest. Brutally honest. Don't pull any punches. Expect to get hit in the mouth, but say what's on your mind. Don't spare anyone's feelings, and don't consider consequences."
A wave of agreement seems to wash over the crowd; yes, this is the House we knew.
Stacy finds herself nodding as well, wiping at the corner of her eyes with her palm. Wilson continues, "Then, and only then, will you begin to understand how House lived his life."
"Not," Wilson adds, "Not that he didn't lie. No, he lied quite well and quite often, but House always told the most truth in the smallest lies."
'Yes, yes, yes,' Stacy thinks, 'That's him. That's him exactly, and I've never understood him and I never could put words to it, but you know him so well, in a way I was never able to.'
Suddenly, like a punch in the gut, she realizes, really realizes what she's known all along. What she never could admit to herself in all of these years. 'I wasn't the one. I couldn't have given him this, any of this, nothing that he needed. I was incapable of providing for him...but Wilson...'
"While you're at it," Wilson says, and he is standing, Church moving in beside him to slip an arm around his waist, "Find someone you love and pester them. Unmercilessly."
Church puts his head on Wilson's shoulder, and though he tries to whisper, his voice can never be anything but heard, "Until they cry."
(to be completed)
EDIT: Don't you hate it when you realize you've used the wrong word in a fic...at three a.m? While you're sleeping? Stupid brain.
Rating: PG
Warning: kid!fic (part of the Church-verse); major character death
Word Count: 857 words
A/N:Running late with today's drabble, so yeah, I'll be completing it tomorrow. Ya'll don't hit me too hard, yeah?
Stacy watches with fascinated eyes as Wilson takes a long, steadying breath; suddenly, he no longer appears exhausted. Rather, he looks as he always does when involved in some prank or set-up of House's devising. Almost, she expects House to pop up behind her, bellowing to the crowd, "Gotcha!"
Unfortunately, it isn't so, but Wilson's mischievous, dancing eyes seem almost woefully out of place. He leans forward, conspiratorially, as if he is about to clue the whole of them in on the joke.
"One of the last conversations that I had with House concerned what I was going to say about him at his memorial. He was incredibly worried that some of you might leave this place thinking that he was a good man, or that there was anything great or awe-inspiring about him. 'I know you, Jimmy my boy,' he said, 'I know how you like to place me on a pedestal.'"
Wilson's mouth quirked slightly at the corner, an almost-smile, "Of course, that only let me know just how far gone he was." He eyes the audience, as if daring anyone to comment on that particular glimmer of dark humor.
"However, as I reminded him, House didn't believe in an after-life, or heaven, or any other such nonsense," Wilson shook his head, nose crinkling with amusement, "Which means that I can say whatever I want to about him now, with no fear of reprisal." There is an air of brimming hysteria around Wilson now, and Church's hands creep gently onto Wilson's shoulders.
Another deep breath. "I did promise, though, and besides, I do believe in some sort of hereafter. If I'm right, I might even get some answers to the great unanswered questions of our marriage, 'Who's right?', and 'Who gets the last word?'"
Stacy almost smiles at that, but her eyes betray her and begin weeping once more. Cameron leans over and pats her hand kindly, but she is also crying now.
"Over the years, I have been present at many funerals; for my friends, for my family, for my patients. At almost every one of these, there has been some sort of moral presented, in regards to how we treat the people we love. 'Go forth and make things right with your estranged loved ones.'; 'Hug your family members as much as possible, you never know what might happen.'; 'Don't take your family for granted, they're the only ones you have.'"
Wilson pauses, and he once again leans toward the audience. "You get the idea, right? Of course, these are all very wonderful, moving sentiments, and I'm sure we'll all take them to heart, just as we always do when faced with the death of another human being. For a day or two, maybe a week, we'll love our family, cherish them, and then, when the shock of death has passed on, we'll go back to our usual routine."
There is some subtle nodding and murmurs of assent, but Stacy's attention wanders for a moment as Cameron surreptitiously points out Chase entrance into the hall. "That's his boyfriend," she whispers happily, but Stacy only catches a flash of light and dark hair as the two of them quickly take a seat.
Wilson's voice again catches her attention, "...instead, in keeping with House's view of things, I'll ask you all to do something much more difficult. Go home, and tell someone exactly what you think about them."
His smile is infectious, and Church's lopsided smirk holds an echo of House's maniacal grin. "Be honest. Brutally honest. Don't pull any punches. Expect to get hit in the mouth, but say what's on your mind. Don't spare anyone's feelings, and don't consider consequences."
A wave of agreement seems to wash over the crowd; yes, this is the House we knew.
Stacy finds herself nodding as well, wiping at the corner of her eyes with her palm. Wilson continues, "Then, and only then, will you begin to understand how House lived his life."
"Not," Wilson adds, "Not that he didn't lie. No, he lied quite well and quite often, but House always told the most truth in the smallest lies."
'Yes, yes, yes,' Stacy thinks, 'That's him. That's him exactly, and I've never understood him and I never could put words to it, but you know him so well, in a way I was never able to.'
Suddenly, like a punch in the gut, she realizes, really realizes what she's known all along. What she never could admit to herself in all of these years. 'I wasn't the one. I couldn't have given him this, any of this, nothing that he needed. I was incapable of providing for him...but Wilson...'
"While you're at it," Wilson says, and he is standing, Church moving in beside him to slip an arm around his waist, "Find someone you love and pester them. Unmercilessly."
Church puts his head on Wilson's shoulder, and though he tries to whisper, his voice can never be anything but heard, "Until they cry."
(to be completed)
EDIT: Don't you hate it when you realize you've used the wrong word in a fic...at three a.m? While you're sleeping? Stupid brain.