just_muse_me: 26.5.2 Say Goodbye
Note: I swear I should not be allowed to write prompts late at night. While listening to depressing songs. Thanks to those who helped me come up with this horribly angst ridden scenario. Also, the Wilson referenced here is jewboy_wonder who is borrowed with much love.
"I told Wilson not to call you. Think he could honor a dying man's last wish." Though softer than normal and slightly strained, her father's voice held the same sardonic tone she had heard countless times before. Somehow that made it all the worse. To see him so much himself, yet so different. It made it hard to believe that he was..
No. Not now. She couldn't. Now was not the time to fall apart. Not when they had such little time left. Forcing a smile, she slid into the chair beside his bed. "Well thankfully, Wilson thought your last wish was full of shit. Of course I was going to come. I was out the door the moment we hung up. How could you think I wouldn't want to be here?"
"I didn't."
"What?"
"I didn't think you wouldn't want to be here. I didn't want you here. You shouldn't..." He paused, taking a moment to find his voice again. It was getting harder. Talking. "Never wanted to put you through this."
"You're an idiot. Not like we haven't done this before. The infarction, your getting shot, your ELECTROCUTING YOURSELF. This is just like any other time." Only it wasn't. All those other times had been near misses -- brushes with death that the doctor had managed to escape relatively unharmed. But this time? This time there was no last minute Hail Mary play. This time it was for real. She had known that the minute she heard Wilson's voice on the line last night.
"I need you to come up here." Though she couldn't see him, Bree could tell that Wilson was sitting at his desk -- pinching the bridge of his nose in an almost mechanical fashion. Going through the motions. It meant something was wrong. Really wrong.
"Why?"
"Because even the Galactic Empire eventually fell."
She had left the moment she hung up the phone, not even bothering to pack an overnight bag. From Hopkins it was only four hours home. Four hours to PPTH and her father. Cameron had been waiting for her in the lobby along with Cuddy and after a round of hugs and making sure she didn't need anything, they had shown her to his room. Wilson was there, sitting with him, the two of them talking in hushed tones. But as House's eyes drifted to Bree, Wilson stood, giving House's hand one final squeeze before going over to the girl and hugging her tightly before slipping out into the hall, leaving father and daughter alone.
As she reached for his hand, she bit down on her bottom lip, willing herself not to cry. "Dad..."
"Don't. Don't go getting all sentimental on me now, Kid. I taught you better than that. Besides..." He paused again, this time longer. It was obvious how much concentration was going into this conversation, the toll it was taking on him. "Besides Wilson's done enough blubbering for the both of you."
She laughed at that. She couldn't help it. Right until the very end her father was...well...her father. "I'll make sure to tell him you said that."
"Good." He closed his eyes, taking a long yet shallow breath.
"Dad?"
"I'm fine. Just tired."
"Y...you should rest. I'm sorry. I...we can talk more later." But even as she said it, she knew there wasn't going to be a later. This was it. "I love you, Daddy."
"You too. I love you too, Bree."
His eyes closed again then, and for a few moments the two of them just sat there. Bree holding his hand as she listened to her father's last breaths, his heart monitor beeping rhythmically -- slowing and slowing until it stopped. Flatlined.
And that was when she broke, sobs wracking her body. She never heard Wilson come in, but she wasn't surprised to find him there. His arms around her. His voice in her ear telling her that it would be okay. That everything would be okay.
But he was wrong. It wouldn't be okay. Nothing was ever going to be okay again.
He was gone.
"I told Wilson not to call you. Think he could honor a dying man's last wish." Though softer than normal and slightly strained, her father's voice held the same sardonic tone she had heard countless times before. Somehow that made it all the worse. To see him so much himself, yet so different. It made it hard to believe that he was..
No. Not now. She couldn't. Now was not the time to fall apart. Not when they had such little time left. Forcing a smile, she slid into the chair beside his bed. "Well thankfully, Wilson thought your last wish was full of shit. Of course I was going to come. I was out the door the moment we hung up. How could you think I wouldn't want to be here?"
"I didn't."
"What?"
"I didn't think you wouldn't want to be here. I didn't want you here. You shouldn't..." He paused, taking a moment to find his voice again. It was getting harder. Talking. "Never wanted to put you through this."
"You're an idiot. Not like we haven't done this before. The infarction, your getting shot, your ELECTROCUTING YOURSELF. This is just like any other time." Only it wasn't. All those other times had been near misses -- brushes with death that the doctor had managed to escape relatively unharmed. But this time? This time there was no last minute Hail Mary play. This time it was for real. She had known that the minute she heard Wilson's voice on the line last night.
"I need you to come up here." Though she couldn't see him, Bree could tell that Wilson was sitting at his desk -- pinching the bridge of his nose in an almost mechanical fashion. Going through the motions. It meant something was wrong. Really wrong.
"Why?"
"Because even the Galactic Empire eventually fell."
She had left the moment she hung up the phone, not even bothering to pack an overnight bag. From Hopkins it was only four hours home. Four hours to PPTH and her father. Cameron had been waiting for her in the lobby along with Cuddy and after a round of hugs and making sure she didn't need anything, they had shown her to his room. Wilson was there, sitting with him, the two of them talking in hushed tones. But as House's eyes drifted to Bree, Wilson stood, giving House's hand one final squeeze before going over to the girl and hugging her tightly before slipping out into the hall, leaving father and daughter alone.
As she reached for his hand, she bit down on her bottom lip, willing herself not to cry. "Dad..."
"Don't. Don't go getting all sentimental on me now, Kid. I taught you better than that. Besides..." He paused again, this time longer. It was obvious how much concentration was going into this conversation, the toll it was taking on him. "Besides Wilson's done enough blubbering for the both of you."
She laughed at that. She couldn't help it. Right until the very end her father was...well...her father. "I'll make sure to tell him you said that."
"Good." He closed his eyes, taking a long yet shallow breath.
"Dad?"
"I'm fine. Just tired."
"Y...you should rest. I'm sorry. I...we can talk more later." But even as she said it, she knew there wasn't going to be a later. This was it. "I love you, Daddy."
"You too. I love you too, Bree."
His eyes closed again then, and for a few moments the two of them just sat there. Bree holding his hand as she listened to her father's last breaths, his heart monitor beeping rhythmically -- slowing and slowing until it stopped. Flatlined.
And that was when she broke, sobs wracking her body. She never heard Wilson come in, but she wasn't surprised to find him there. His arms around her. His voice in her ear telling her that it would be okay. That everything would be okay.
But he was wrong. It wouldn't be okay. Nothing was ever going to be okay again.
He was gone.