[Fanfiction] House MD, H/W - I Remember, Don't You? Chapter Thirty-One
Title: I Remember... Don't You?
Author: wolfoflegends
Word Count: 4,865
Pairing: House/Wilson
Summery: After a near death experience and it's following circumstances, Wilson goes to John Hopkins University as a last ditch effort for Med school. There he meets a character like he's never known. Stretches from Med school to beyond Season 4. Slash h/w
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CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: House Watch Part I: Nightmare with a Pistol
---
House made sure to keep his mouth shut as the two of them made their was up the apartment steps and tried his best to ignore the fact that Wilson currently had his free hand on his back and was trying to help him up the steps. He really had no idea what would be in store for him and pondered which closet Wilson was going to lock him up in or which chair he was going to be tied down to for the duration of the twenty-four hour watch. He continued to keep quiet as he watched Wilson struggle with unlocking the door with his less coordinated right hand and pushed it open with House making his way in first.
Again he waited patiently for Wilson to unlock his apartment door before cautiously walking in. At first the events of what happened that night were fuzzy. Sure he could remember drinking and taking the Vicodin.. after that he really couldn't remember what actually went on.
But all it took was one look down the hall at that broken bathroom door and the sounds of Wilson trying to kick down the door echoed from the deep recesses of his mind with him visibly filching with each pound on the door. He continued to stare down the hallway as his mind relayed the sounds of the loud crack and splintering of the wood with the image of Wilson tumbling into the bathroom and onto the floor. He could still remember that scared look in his friend’s eyes after he found him in the bathtub.
When he turned around from his position near the front door he found that Wilson had already started to busy himself by getting down on his hands and knees at the floor and was picking up any of the Vicodin that had been left on the floor since before they had left for the hospital. The second thing he noticed was how that sling had been taken off and tossed aside onto the couch as he used both hands for the task of picking up those pills.
“You took off your sling.” House pointed out with a harsh tone.
Wilson looked up and let out a light-hearted laugh at the look of House’s irritated expression. He was concerned. “I don’t have to have it on all the time, really! I just can’t do any heavy lifting.” But when he looked back at House he only saw those eyes narrow even more so than before. “Oh, come on!” Wilson tried to play like it was no big deal, and to him, it wasn’t. “Look, it’s hardly an injury! It hurts a little if I work it.. I don’t have to explain this to you, you know how this works. And besides, you’re the patient here, not me.” He went back to his task of gathering the pills and slipping them into the discarded pill bottle he had found amongst them.
He knew Wilson was trying his damnedest to take care of him the best he could. Without a word of encouragement or even a sound of acknowledgment to what he was doing, House pushed the sling away with his cane and laid back on the sofa and stretched out his long aching legs and tried his best to will his pain away and stared tiredly at the ceiling.
When Wilson was finished, he stood and slipped the bottle into his coat pocket before draping it over the back of a wooden chair sitting near the front door. With a stretch of his own weary and tired body, Wilson made his way into the kitchen hopes of finding a broom and dustpan.
When the man was out of view, House quickly and quietly tried to get off the couch but managed to put his right foot down too hard with the sudden jolt making him groan in pain. Lucky for him, Wilson didn’t hear. With as much skill as he could muster at that moment, House stood and limped miserably over to the chair Wilson had draped his coat over and reached into the pocket. He smiled when he felt his hand meet with that familiar bottle. He silently pulled the bottle out as carefully as he could so not to let any of the pills knock around inside as he kept it clutched tight in his hand. He hastily hobbled as fast as he could back to the couch and tried to get back on the couch before Wilson could return.
Wilson walked back into the living room with a broom and trashcan right after House was able to sit down. Completely oblivious to his friend’s resent secret repossession of the pills, Wilson knelt down as he began to pick of the larger pieces of the broken lamp and dropped them into the trashcan. As he did this, House watched for a few moments before deciding it was time to play his cards.
“You’re not doing a good job at making sure I don’t get into things I shouldn’t.” House pointed out as he rolled the amber pill bottle around in his hand. “If I wanted I could take all these pills and land us right back at the hospital.”
Wilson glanced up and glared as folded his arms while he made no attempt to get up from his position of picking up glass. “What makes you think I would save you a second time?”
Aggravated blue eyes stared at him a moment before he gave a spiteful smile. “Let’s face it, Jimmy, You’re just too kind. You’d never let me die.. so long as you can still save me.”
“There’s only so many time I can save you.”
House sneered as his hand quickly tightened around the bottle he had been holding, “Why don’t you get the hell outta here you fucking prick! Stop trying to save someone who doesn’t want to be saved!” He snapped, “Stop trying to be the hero!” he looked at the bottle in his hand, and with a rage that suddenly hit him and reminded him of why he even considered the idea of suicide in the first place, he pulled off the top of the bottle and poured the white tablets into his hand.
With a sudden look of uneasiness appearing on his face, Wilson watched as House played with the handful of Vicodin. He knew he should shoot up and slap the said pills right out of his suicidal friend’s hand, but he also wanted to trust that he wouldn’t try anything. “I’m not trying to be the hero; I’m just trying to help my friend. Don’t you under stand that?”
But it was obvious that he wasn’t listening. “You don’t give a damn about me; you just want to look like the caring friend who’ll stop at nothing to make sure his friend his safe! You don’t care if I want to live or die; if I can really still take anymore or not!!”
“You..! I should just leave you hear to die! Lord knows you don’t care about me or anyone else for that matter!!” Wilson immediately stopped himself and tightly shut his eyes as he took a deep breath and made himself calm down before speaking again, “But I won’t. You… you can say whatever you want to me. I’m not going anywhere, House! I’m not like Stacy! I’m not going to run away because you’ve said some mean things to me!”
Wilson pulled himself to his full height and took a few steps to the couch, his arms still folded.
“Now, give me the pills or else you will regret even thinking of taking the bottle in the first place.” The way Wilson stood with one arm still in its folded position as he reached out with his left, his palm opened and waiting for House to do as he was ordered; it was easy to see that he was in no mood for this risky game of chicken.
There was a look of defiance was burning in those blue eyes as he pondered what Wilson would do if he quickly downed the pills in one swift motion. Knowing he most probably would come to regret what he had done if he didn’t comply; House tilted his hand as he calmly and carefully poured the pills back into the bottle before he unexpectedly hurled it hard across the room with it colliding loudly against the wall.
Wilson didn’t even flinch; much to House’s disappointment.
He glared at his brown eyed friend and watched as Wilson took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh, staring back. “Why don’t you go to bed and let me clean? You look exhausted.”
“Cause I am.” He muttered and pulled his eyes to the mess of glass and few pills that Wilson had currently missed still on the floor. He didn’t blame Wilson for not seeing them, the place was a wreck and they were scattered about with broken glass of the same color.
He really did leave the apartment in total disarray.. he knew it was probably driving Wilson mad and it really wasn’t the best place to be for someone who just hours before tried to commit suicide. There were just so many hazardous things around. Just by the fact that Wilson hadn’t had him locked in his own bedroom while he cleaned showed what great deal of trust he had in him. As much as House still vaguely wanted to do the unthinkable, he didn’t want to betray that trust.
Wilson was all he had left after all.
With a quiet grunt, House stood from the couch and took a few steps toward the coffee table. “Can I have this?” He asked as he carefully bent over with a hiss of pain and picked up a stray forgotten Vicodin off the floor. Wilson watched him closely with narrowed eyes. “My leg hurts.” He supplied as he absently rubbed at his thigh.
“I’m supposed to be monitoring your doses.”
“You are; that’s why I’m asking! Can I have this?” he repeated.
“Yes, I don’t know what good it will do you, though. You most probably still have the Naloxone in your system. It’ll probably just block it out. Why not take some aspirin or Tylenol?”
“Because Tylenol doesn’t come close to helping anything.” And with that he popped the pill into his mouth and gestured for Wilson to pass him his bottle of water he had gotten earlier while still at the hospital from the table. Still rather new to the whole Vicodin regiment, House wasn’t quite used to dry-swallowing pills just yet. Wilson did as he was so quietly asked with House gulping down the remaining amount of water. “I’m gonna go to bed.” He knew Wilson was dying to clean the place up and he also knew the TV would have nothing on but infomercials that would untimely end up putting him to sleep anyway.
He swore he still smelled vomit.
Carefully, he struggled with his limp as he made his way into the direction of the hall, “Do you need some help?” Wilson asked softly. It was obvious he was trying to be helpful without stepping on the toes of a man trying his hardest to hold onto whatever independence he presently still had left. Stopped in his current position, House turned and looked over at him and was greeted by those heartbrokenly sad brown eyes. House was sure he recognized that same look from long ago.
Without a word he turned back to his task and staggered as he used the wall for balance and made his way into his dark room.
Fortunately for Wilson, House didn’t hear the hushed sob that escaped past his lips as he turned and went back to work at cleaning the glass from the floor.
--
When House finally did wake up later that afternoon, everything seemed pretty normal. That is, until he noticed the man asleep in that simple wooden chair that had been sitting by the front door hours earlier. After a good long hard full body stretch, House let out a yawn and grabbed a pillow off the bed and threw it at the sleeping man. He was pleased with himself when Wilson nearly fell out of that said chair.
“Gah! What was that for?” Wilson asked as he worked to calm his surprised body and tried not to feel like he had jumped out of his own skin.
He was only met with those annoyed blue eyes. “What are you doing in here?”
He watched as Wilson took another deep breath before tossing the pillow back onto the bed. “I was watching -”
“Me sleep? That’s on the border lines of being reeeeally creepy, Jimmy.”
He rolled his eyes as he let out a sigh, “I was keeping an eye on you; I’m not your stalker or anything of the like.”
House couldn’t stop that playful Cheshire cat grin from growing on his face. “You just want to get in this bed and snuggle up close to me, don’cha, Jimmy?”
“What?! No! I was doing what I was told to do! I’m making sure you’re safe! Now, what do you want for breakfast?”
“It’s no problem, really, I understand completely. Who wouldn’t want to be in bed with such a dashingly handsome doctor such as myself? This ole bed is big enough..” he trailed off as he turn his attention to the bed he was currently lying in.
“Hah!” Wilson barked in return at the absurdity of what he had just heard come out of that man’s mouth. “And to think you tried to kill yourself only hours before.”
“Hey! I don’t hate myself!” He corrected, “I hate the situation I’m in.”
Wilson nodded before continuing where he had left off before, “Now you didn’t answer my question, you want breakfast?”
“No.” He shook his head and yawned again.
Wilson on the other hand gave a nod before standing from the chair. “I cleaned the apartment while you were sleeping. It’s safe for you now, not that you would try anything I’m sure.” He put his hands on his side before leaning back and cracking his sore back. He should have known better than to sleep in that chair. His neck was sore, too.
--
Still dressed in a t-shirt and pajama pants from when he woke up, House stared blankly into the living room as he stood gripping his can in the hall doorway. Everything looked so… clean. He was sure in all his years of living there he had never seen everything as spotless as it was. In a strange sense it was absolutely amazing. He was pleased that the smell of vomit had been replaced with a fresh crisp smell of bleach and lemons. He turned around and glanced down the hall and into the bathroom. Though the broken door still hung on it’s hinges, the splintered pieces of wood that had broken off were picked up and thrown out.
With a bit of curiosity mixed with having to urinate, House turned and limped down the hall with his cane and into the bathroom. Never had his bathroom seemed so blindingly white. He was even more surprised to see that the dark and dingy grout that Stacy had tried her damndest to clean in the past with no luck sparkled just as brightly as he had probably when it was freshly laid.
“Good job, Wilson!” He called loudly down the hall and to where ever Wilson was currently hiding. At first it sounded like he was actually complementing his friend’s work until he opened his mouth and continued. “Cause of you I can’t close my bathroom door! What am I supposed to do? What if I’m pee shy? I wouldn’t be able to take a piss!”
“You’re not pee shy,” Wilson returned from where he suspected was the kitchen. “you use the men’s room!”
The man shook his head and leaned his cane against the wall as he worked on relieving himself. “Yeah, but what if I was?” Wilson didn’t reply this time. Once finished, House washed his hand, grabbed his cane and made his way down the hall and back into the living room. He was actually afraid to see the kitchen.
Deciding that seeing the bathroom as clean as it was was indeed all the shock he needed at the moment, he carefully lowered himself onto the couch and stretched his legs out and propped his feet up onto the freshly cleaned coffee table. He eyed a burning candle sitting on the table before he finally grabbed the remote and turned on the TV.
It wasn’t long before Wilson appeared in the kitchen doorway drying off his wet hands with a dishtowel. He sighed as he watched his friend from the open doorway. House looked sad sitting there and staring at the TV. He wondered to himself if he was really even watching it.
“Is there anyway I can make you happy?” Wilson asked with those sad eyes. House merely looked at him for a moment. There were many things this man could do to make him happy, and not all of them had a fun or happy ending.
House didn’t answer him; he couldn’t. He couldn’t even look at him when he had that look of utter sorrow in his eyes. It always reminded him too much of what he had given up those few years ago. He only turned his attention back to the TV.
“Hey, what do you want for dinner tonight?” he asked as he stood with his arms folded and his feet shoulder width apart. One of Wilson’s favorite poses. “It doesn’t matter, whatever you want I’ll make it for you.”
House sat there a moment in thought before he glared. “Shut up, Wilson. I don’t have any food in the kitchen for you to even cook with, and it’s not like you can leave and get something unless you take me with you. I don’t think you letting suicidal me run around into the real world will get you much kudos.” He turned back to the TV.
“So? I’ll call a few of the local markets. I’m sure there are a few that still deliver.”
And just to be nasty, he gave the first answer that came to mind. “I want lobster.”
“Yeah?”
House turned to his friend with a skeptical look. “You’d actually cook me a lobster?”
“Heh, sure.” Wilson replied with a shrug, “They’re pretty easy to prepare. They only cost as much as they do because of what the fishermen go through to catch the thing, not on level of difficulty of preparing it. So, you want lobster?”
He shook his head. “No..” he kept his eyes low before finally turning back to Wilson. “Can you make stew? Like, a beef stew?”
He nodded. “Sure, if that’s what you want.”
“Yeah.” Just as Wilson had turned to head back into the kitchen, the sound of House’s voice caused him to turn back to the direction of the living room. “There is something you can do that will make me happy.” He finally answered.
Wilson arched his brows as he waited for him to finish.
“Where’s your sling? The doctor gave it to you for a reason.” With a sigh loud enough for House to hear it from the couch, Wilson did as he was told by walking into the living room and retrieving the blue and white sling from the door handle of the closet and slipped it on as he retreated back to the kitchen to make a list of what he needed for dinner.
Meanwhile the only thing House did was ease his sore legs off of the coffee table before pulling them back up onto the couch as he stretched out. He felt like going back to sleep.
--
Everything was dark.
Completely dark.
Black.
He could hear something.
Crying.
He knew that voice.. it was Wilson.
Suddenly the black darkness started to fade away and blend into a lighter one, a white one. It didn’t take long before he knew where he was. He was in his bathroom. But why was he here?
It didn’t take him long to figure it out.
There was Wilson cradling what looked to be his limp lifeless body and was crying.
Not knowing what was going on, House quickly reached up and touched his face, his shoulders and chest. He seemed solid enough.. if that was the case.. what in the world was he looking at? He couldn’t be in two places at once..! Or could he? He turned around and took note of the bathroom door.
It wasn’t broken.
He reached out to touch it, but his hand went straight through it. With a deep breath and hard swallow, he turned back to the scene before him.
“You f-fucking, idiot..” Wilson tried to speak amidst his tears, “I should have n-never l-let you out of my sight.” House wasn’t sure if he had ever heard a more heartbreaking sound before in his life. He could feel his own heart seize up in pain as he tried to hold back his own set of tears.
He didn’t know how long Wilson stayed with him before someone came looking for him. Strangely enough, it was Jack. When the son caught sight of his father he broke down and confessed to him, sounding not to unlike a child about his love for his departed friend as he clung desperately to his motionless friend’s frame.
“I know.”
It took work, but he watched as the father pulled his son off the floor and out of the bathroom.
Like a film he watched helplessly as from that point on as Wilson’s life fell apart. He watched as his marriage fell though once again, how he tried to put his everything he had left into his work and patients. He watched for what felt like forever. It was like he was watching a depressing movie of a man’s life that went straight down hill no matter how hard he tried to play like nothing was wrong.
He was hurting. The man lost his only friend. Sure like he said once, he had acquaintances, but that didn’t truly make them friends. Even when he would chat with Cuddy the conversation was never as lively or exciting as if when he was with House, it was nothing but small talk or actually about the devil himself.
He watched this horrific movie as Wilson after work one day made his way to a pawnshop and purchased a small pistol. Right when he saw the money exchange hands he knew what was going to happen. He knew what the man was planning. It was like a train wreck that he simply couldn’t turn away from no matter how much he wanted to. It was almost as if someone was holding his eyes open for him. He just wanted this nightmare to end before anything happened, before he had to see what his sick and dark imagination had to show him.
It didn’t happen right away. It seemed to take time before the man could grab up enough courage to do it, and when that time came House pleaded in his mind to any just god or gods that may have been listening for him not to see this. As much as he wanted to believe that Wilson’s life would completely fall apart if anything were to happen to him he didn’t need to see the man blow his brains out just to get the point across.
He made his decision that he was going to try, even if it was just for Wilson and no one else.
He stared in horror as Wilson sat in a lonely hotel room situated behind some cheap desk as he stared at the gun that sat on the cold wooden desk top. The man couldn’t seem to pull his eyes away from the gun. He stared at it for what felt like an eternity.
When he finally did pick it up, House felt a shiver shoot deep throughout his whole body and down his spine. This just wasn’t right; he couldn’t just stand by and let this happen. The man closed his eyes as a tears streamed down his face as he placed the muzzle of the pistol to his temple.
He could see the man’s lips were moving, and could hear him whispering but couldn’t decipher what was being was being said. It wasn’t until he was standing at the desk and straining to hear before he could make sense of what was being said.
It was Hebrew. He was praying.
House didn’t know whether he was praying for his God’s forgiveness on what he was about to do or praying for safe travels into the next life or even praying about happier times. All he knew was that he was praying.
“Wilson, please… don’t do this.” House whispered.
Halfway though the prayer he cocked the gun and kept it to his temple.
“Jimmy, please!” He begged, but it was no use.. he couldn’t hear him. House knew the prayer was coming to an end by how Wilson had to force himself to speak the few remaining words. And with tears still streaking his face the prayer came to an end.
He pulled the trigger.
--
House let out a loud gasp as he shot up from his sleeping position on the couch and back to reality at the feeling of someone shaking him awake. When scared blue eyes were open and focused on the world around him, he was greeted with a pair of brown concerned ones. “Are you alright?” Wilson asked concerned as he adjusted his sling’s strap higher on his shoulder as he took a seat on the very edge of the couch that House wasn’t taking up. House let his body fall back against the cushions as he held a hand over his eyes while his heart pounded.
“You..!” He quickly pulled his hand away and stared angrily at the man sitting next to him at the same time he worked on catching his breath and trying his damnedest not to let his emotions get the better of him. He refused to break down and cry in front of Wilson, not now, not again. “You are not allowed to own a gun! Ever!” he informed as he continued to catch his breath, His heart was racing and he hoped in time he would come to forget this terrible nightmare like he did every other one he had. He turned his attention back to Wilson and pointed a threatening finger at him, “I swear if I ever see you with a gun I will throw it in a fucking river!” he tried to fan himself off a little. He was drenched in sweat.
Wilson stared bewildered. “Huh? What’s wrong? Did, did you have a bad dream?” House didn’t answer, only held a hand to his chest has he tried to school his breathing back to normal and covered his eyes once again with his hand. “What was it?”
He shook his head. “It was nothing.” He waved him off, “Forget about it.” He took another deep breath and closed his eyes tight before slowly pulling his hand away again. “How long was I asleep? Feels like I’ve been out for days.”
Wilson eyed his friend suspiciously but didn’t try to push the subject. If he wanted to talk about it he would soon enough. “A few hours. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sleep that hard, though. I mean, you didn’t even budge when the boy delivering the groceries from the market was pounding on the door. Normally you’d wake up at even the tiniest misstep.”
House took a hard swallow before finally sitting back up bringing his face only a few inches from Wilson’s and nodded.
“I didn’t want to wake you, I mean, I’m sure you’ve been needing a good sleep!” he got out nervously at House’s proximity, those blue eyes peering deeply into his. “I mean, have.. have you thought of using ear plugs when you sleep?” his words were jittery and panicky as his voice cracked from his nervousness; it was easy to see how tense he suddenly was.
House pulled himself away and Wilson quickly stood when House pulled his legs off the couch and onto the floor. “Then I wouldn’t be able to hear anything.”
“That’s the point.” He relayed as he made his way toward the kitchen. “Dinner’s ready, you want me to fix you some?”
House wasn’t hungry. At that moment he didn’t was to even think about eating ever again. Not after that dream. But he nodded anyway. He knew Wilson worked hard on dinner; the least he could do was force himself to eat some of it. In reality he hadn’t eaten since the day before.
And it did smell good.
Sixteen hours down, eight more to go.
--
A/N: I'm sorry it took me as long as it did to get this chapter out, i've been busy with this and that and frankly one of my other strange interest have been getting in the way as well, with me trying to read up like crazy on the said subject. Heh, but yeah, here you are, another chapter down and so many more to go! Ugh.. will this story ever end? Let's hope not! (Na, I already have the ending written out.. it'll just be a while before we get there..)
And sorry about that dream. I never meant for it to happen, but the inspiration for it hit while finishing up this chapter. Yesterday I watched a movie that near the end had quite a bit of suicide via a gun to the head.. makes my heart hurt just thinking about it.
And hello to my strange yet flattering anonymous stalker friend. You have certainly reminded me of something that I'm sure you can agree, to: I need to clean my journal and get rid of old forgotten chapters, eh?
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COMING SOON: House waved him off. "I'm not on watch any more. Go get some sleep." he stretched back out on the couch and close his eyes.
God he was tired. There was nothing more at that moment he wanted more than to finally get some sleep... but he was still afraid for his friend. He seemed like the normal House he knew so well, but how did he know he wasn't just pulling some charade to make like everything was fine and okay?
House opened his eyes to find his friend still standing there awkwardly.
"Yes?"
"Uhh.. I, well -"
He rolled his eyes and slowly pushed himself into a sitting position to get a better look at Wilson. "You're afraid I might still hurt myself."
When Wilson didn't object he knew he was right.
"Look, if you're so scared about my well being and state of mind just take a nap in my room." he grabbed the remote and turned on the tv. "I'm going to be here a while."
Wilson nodded. This would make things much easier. This way he would be close by if something were to happen and possibly, just maybe his presence alone in the apartment may just convince House not to try anything stupid.
Author: wolfoflegends
Word Count: 4,865
Pairing: House/Wilson
Summery: After a near death experience and it's following circumstances, Wilson goes to John Hopkins University as a last ditch effort for Med school. There he meets a character like he's never known. Stretches from Med school to beyond Season 4. Slash h/w
---
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: House Watch Part I: Nightmare with a Pistol
---
House made sure to keep his mouth shut as the two of them made their was up the apartment steps and tried his best to ignore the fact that Wilson currently had his free hand on his back and was trying to help him up the steps. He really had no idea what would be in store for him and pondered which closet Wilson was going to lock him up in or which chair he was going to be tied down to for the duration of the twenty-four hour watch. He continued to keep quiet as he watched Wilson struggle with unlocking the door with his less coordinated right hand and pushed it open with House making his way in first.
Again he waited patiently for Wilson to unlock his apartment door before cautiously walking in. At first the events of what happened that night were fuzzy. Sure he could remember drinking and taking the Vicodin.. after that he really couldn't remember what actually went on.
But all it took was one look down the hall at that broken bathroom door and the sounds of Wilson trying to kick down the door echoed from the deep recesses of his mind with him visibly filching with each pound on the door. He continued to stare down the hallway as his mind relayed the sounds of the loud crack and splintering of the wood with the image of Wilson tumbling into the bathroom and onto the floor. He could still remember that scared look in his friend’s eyes after he found him in the bathtub.
When he turned around from his position near the front door he found that Wilson had already started to busy himself by getting down on his hands and knees at the floor and was picking up any of the Vicodin that had been left on the floor since before they had left for the hospital. The second thing he noticed was how that sling had been taken off and tossed aside onto the couch as he used both hands for the task of picking up those pills.
“You took off your sling.” House pointed out with a harsh tone.
Wilson looked up and let out a light-hearted laugh at the look of House’s irritated expression. He was concerned. “I don’t have to have it on all the time, really! I just can’t do any heavy lifting.” But when he looked back at House he only saw those eyes narrow even more so than before. “Oh, come on!” Wilson tried to play like it was no big deal, and to him, it wasn’t. “Look, it’s hardly an injury! It hurts a little if I work it.. I don’t have to explain this to you, you know how this works. And besides, you’re the patient here, not me.” He went back to his task of gathering the pills and slipping them into the discarded pill bottle he had found amongst them.
He knew Wilson was trying his damnedest to take care of him the best he could. Without a word of encouragement or even a sound of acknowledgment to what he was doing, House pushed the sling away with his cane and laid back on the sofa and stretched out his long aching legs and tried his best to will his pain away and stared tiredly at the ceiling.
When Wilson was finished, he stood and slipped the bottle into his coat pocket before draping it over the back of a wooden chair sitting near the front door. With a stretch of his own weary and tired body, Wilson made his way into the kitchen hopes of finding a broom and dustpan.
When the man was out of view, House quickly and quietly tried to get off the couch but managed to put his right foot down too hard with the sudden jolt making him groan in pain. Lucky for him, Wilson didn’t hear. With as much skill as he could muster at that moment, House stood and limped miserably over to the chair Wilson had draped his coat over and reached into the pocket. He smiled when he felt his hand meet with that familiar bottle. He silently pulled the bottle out as carefully as he could so not to let any of the pills knock around inside as he kept it clutched tight in his hand. He hastily hobbled as fast as he could back to the couch and tried to get back on the couch before Wilson could return.
Wilson walked back into the living room with a broom and trashcan right after House was able to sit down. Completely oblivious to his friend’s resent secret repossession of the pills, Wilson knelt down as he began to pick of the larger pieces of the broken lamp and dropped them into the trashcan. As he did this, House watched for a few moments before deciding it was time to play his cards.
“You’re not doing a good job at making sure I don’t get into things I shouldn’t.” House pointed out as he rolled the amber pill bottle around in his hand. “If I wanted I could take all these pills and land us right back at the hospital.”
Wilson glanced up and glared as folded his arms while he made no attempt to get up from his position of picking up glass. “What makes you think I would save you a second time?”
Aggravated blue eyes stared at him a moment before he gave a spiteful smile. “Let’s face it, Jimmy, You’re just too kind. You’d never let me die.. so long as you can still save me.”
“There’s only so many time I can save you.”
House sneered as his hand quickly tightened around the bottle he had been holding, “Why don’t you get the hell outta here you fucking prick! Stop trying to save someone who doesn’t want to be saved!” He snapped, “Stop trying to be the hero!” he looked at the bottle in his hand, and with a rage that suddenly hit him and reminded him of why he even considered the idea of suicide in the first place, he pulled off the top of the bottle and poured the white tablets into his hand.
With a sudden look of uneasiness appearing on his face, Wilson watched as House played with the handful of Vicodin. He knew he should shoot up and slap the said pills right out of his suicidal friend’s hand, but he also wanted to trust that he wouldn’t try anything. “I’m not trying to be the hero; I’m just trying to help my friend. Don’t you under stand that?”
But it was obvious that he wasn’t listening. “You don’t give a damn about me; you just want to look like the caring friend who’ll stop at nothing to make sure his friend his safe! You don’t care if I want to live or die; if I can really still take anymore or not!!”
“You..! I should just leave you hear to die! Lord knows you don’t care about me or anyone else for that matter!!” Wilson immediately stopped himself and tightly shut his eyes as he took a deep breath and made himself calm down before speaking again, “But I won’t. You… you can say whatever you want to me. I’m not going anywhere, House! I’m not like Stacy! I’m not going to run away because you’ve said some mean things to me!”
Wilson pulled himself to his full height and took a few steps to the couch, his arms still folded.
“Now, give me the pills or else you will regret even thinking of taking the bottle in the first place.” The way Wilson stood with one arm still in its folded position as he reached out with his left, his palm opened and waiting for House to do as he was ordered; it was easy to see that he was in no mood for this risky game of chicken.
There was a look of defiance was burning in those blue eyes as he pondered what Wilson would do if he quickly downed the pills in one swift motion. Knowing he most probably would come to regret what he had done if he didn’t comply; House tilted his hand as he calmly and carefully poured the pills back into the bottle before he unexpectedly hurled it hard across the room with it colliding loudly against the wall.
Wilson didn’t even flinch; much to House’s disappointment.
He glared at his brown eyed friend and watched as Wilson took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh, staring back. “Why don’t you go to bed and let me clean? You look exhausted.”
“Cause I am.” He muttered and pulled his eyes to the mess of glass and few pills that Wilson had currently missed still on the floor. He didn’t blame Wilson for not seeing them, the place was a wreck and they were scattered about with broken glass of the same color.
He really did leave the apartment in total disarray.. he knew it was probably driving Wilson mad and it really wasn’t the best place to be for someone who just hours before tried to commit suicide. There were just so many hazardous things around. Just by the fact that Wilson hadn’t had him locked in his own bedroom while he cleaned showed what great deal of trust he had in him. As much as House still vaguely wanted to do the unthinkable, he didn’t want to betray that trust.
Wilson was all he had left after all.
With a quiet grunt, House stood from the couch and took a few steps toward the coffee table. “Can I have this?” He asked as he carefully bent over with a hiss of pain and picked up a stray forgotten Vicodin off the floor. Wilson watched him closely with narrowed eyes. “My leg hurts.” He supplied as he absently rubbed at his thigh.
“I’m supposed to be monitoring your doses.”
“You are; that’s why I’m asking! Can I have this?” he repeated.
“Yes, I don’t know what good it will do you, though. You most probably still have the Naloxone in your system. It’ll probably just block it out. Why not take some aspirin or Tylenol?”
“Because Tylenol doesn’t come close to helping anything.” And with that he popped the pill into his mouth and gestured for Wilson to pass him his bottle of water he had gotten earlier while still at the hospital from the table. Still rather new to the whole Vicodin regiment, House wasn’t quite used to dry-swallowing pills just yet. Wilson did as he was so quietly asked with House gulping down the remaining amount of water. “I’m gonna go to bed.” He knew Wilson was dying to clean the place up and he also knew the TV would have nothing on but infomercials that would untimely end up putting him to sleep anyway.
He swore he still smelled vomit.
Carefully, he struggled with his limp as he made his way into the direction of the hall, “Do you need some help?” Wilson asked softly. It was obvious he was trying to be helpful without stepping on the toes of a man trying his hardest to hold onto whatever independence he presently still had left. Stopped in his current position, House turned and looked over at him and was greeted by those heartbrokenly sad brown eyes. House was sure he recognized that same look from long ago.
Without a word he turned back to his task and staggered as he used the wall for balance and made his way into his dark room.
Fortunately for Wilson, House didn’t hear the hushed sob that escaped past his lips as he turned and went back to work at cleaning the glass from the floor.
--
When House finally did wake up later that afternoon, everything seemed pretty normal. That is, until he noticed the man asleep in that simple wooden chair that had been sitting by the front door hours earlier. After a good long hard full body stretch, House let out a yawn and grabbed a pillow off the bed and threw it at the sleeping man. He was pleased with himself when Wilson nearly fell out of that said chair.
“Gah! What was that for?” Wilson asked as he worked to calm his surprised body and tried not to feel like he had jumped out of his own skin.
He was only met with those annoyed blue eyes. “What are you doing in here?”
He watched as Wilson took another deep breath before tossing the pillow back onto the bed. “I was watching -”
“Me sleep? That’s on the border lines of being reeeeally creepy, Jimmy.”
He rolled his eyes as he let out a sigh, “I was keeping an eye on you; I’m not your stalker or anything of the like.”
House couldn’t stop that playful Cheshire cat grin from growing on his face. “You just want to get in this bed and snuggle up close to me, don’cha, Jimmy?”
“What?! No! I was doing what I was told to do! I’m making sure you’re safe! Now, what do you want for breakfast?”
“It’s no problem, really, I understand completely. Who wouldn’t want to be in bed with such a dashingly handsome doctor such as myself? This ole bed is big enough..” he trailed off as he turn his attention to the bed he was currently lying in.
“Hah!” Wilson barked in return at the absurdity of what he had just heard come out of that man’s mouth. “And to think you tried to kill yourself only hours before.”
“Hey! I don’t hate myself!” He corrected, “I hate the situation I’m in.”
Wilson nodded before continuing where he had left off before, “Now you didn’t answer my question, you want breakfast?”
“No.” He shook his head and yawned again.
Wilson on the other hand gave a nod before standing from the chair. “I cleaned the apartment while you were sleeping. It’s safe for you now, not that you would try anything I’m sure.” He put his hands on his side before leaning back and cracking his sore back. He should have known better than to sleep in that chair. His neck was sore, too.
--
Still dressed in a t-shirt and pajama pants from when he woke up, House stared blankly into the living room as he stood gripping his can in the hall doorway. Everything looked so… clean. He was sure in all his years of living there he had never seen everything as spotless as it was. In a strange sense it was absolutely amazing. He was pleased that the smell of vomit had been replaced with a fresh crisp smell of bleach and lemons. He turned around and glanced down the hall and into the bathroom. Though the broken door still hung on it’s hinges, the splintered pieces of wood that had broken off were picked up and thrown out.
With a bit of curiosity mixed with having to urinate, House turned and limped down the hall with his cane and into the bathroom. Never had his bathroom seemed so blindingly white. He was even more surprised to see that the dark and dingy grout that Stacy had tried her damndest to clean in the past with no luck sparkled just as brightly as he had probably when it was freshly laid.
“Good job, Wilson!” He called loudly down the hall and to where ever Wilson was currently hiding. At first it sounded like he was actually complementing his friend’s work until he opened his mouth and continued. “Cause of you I can’t close my bathroom door! What am I supposed to do? What if I’m pee shy? I wouldn’t be able to take a piss!”
“You’re not pee shy,” Wilson returned from where he suspected was the kitchen. “you use the men’s room!”
The man shook his head and leaned his cane against the wall as he worked on relieving himself. “Yeah, but what if I was?” Wilson didn’t reply this time. Once finished, House washed his hand, grabbed his cane and made his way down the hall and back into the living room. He was actually afraid to see the kitchen.
Deciding that seeing the bathroom as clean as it was was indeed all the shock he needed at the moment, he carefully lowered himself onto the couch and stretched his legs out and propped his feet up onto the freshly cleaned coffee table. He eyed a burning candle sitting on the table before he finally grabbed the remote and turned on the TV.
It wasn’t long before Wilson appeared in the kitchen doorway drying off his wet hands with a dishtowel. He sighed as he watched his friend from the open doorway. House looked sad sitting there and staring at the TV. He wondered to himself if he was really even watching it.
“Is there anyway I can make you happy?” Wilson asked with those sad eyes. House merely looked at him for a moment. There were many things this man could do to make him happy, and not all of them had a fun or happy ending.
House didn’t answer him; he couldn’t. He couldn’t even look at him when he had that look of utter sorrow in his eyes. It always reminded him too much of what he had given up those few years ago. He only turned his attention back to the TV.
“Hey, what do you want for dinner tonight?” he asked as he stood with his arms folded and his feet shoulder width apart. One of Wilson’s favorite poses. “It doesn’t matter, whatever you want I’ll make it for you.”
House sat there a moment in thought before he glared. “Shut up, Wilson. I don’t have any food in the kitchen for you to even cook with, and it’s not like you can leave and get something unless you take me with you. I don’t think you letting suicidal me run around into the real world will get you much kudos.” He turned back to the TV.
“So? I’ll call a few of the local markets. I’m sure there are a few that still deliver.”
And just to be nasty, he gave the first answer that came to mind. “I want lobster.”
“Yeah?”
House turned to his friend with a skeptical look. “You’d actually cook me a lobster?”
“Heh, sure.” Wilson replied with a shrug, “They’re pretty easy to prepare. They only cost as much as they do because of what the fishermen go through to catch the thing, not on level of difficulty of preparing it. So, you want lobster?”
He shook his head. “No..” he kept his eyes low before finally turning back to Wilson. “Can you make stew? Like, a beef stew?”
He nodded. “Sure, if that’s what you want.”
“Yeah.” Just as Wilson had turned to head back into the kitchen, the sound of House’s voice caused him to turn back to the direction of the living room. “There is something you can do that will make me happy.” He finally answered.
Wilson arched his brows as he waited for him to finish.
“Where’s your sling? The doctor gave it to you for a reason.” With a sigh loud enough for House to hear it from the couch, Wilson did as he was told by walking into the living room and retrieving the blue and white sling from the door handle of the closet and slipped it on as he retreated back to the kitchen to make a list of what he needed for dinner.
Meanwhile the only thing House did was ease his sore legs off of the coffee table before pulling them back up onto the couch as he stretched out. He felt like going back to sleep.
--
Everything was dark.
Completely dark.
Black.
He could hear something.
Crying.
He knew that voice.. it was Wilson.
Suddenly the black darkness started to fade away and blend into a lighter one, a white one. It didn’t take long before he knew where he was. He was in his bathroom. But why was he here?
It didn’t take him long to figure it out.
There was Wilson cradling what looked to be his limp lifeless body and was crying.
Not knowing what was going on, House quickly reached up and touched his face, his shoulders and chest. He seemed solid enough.. if that was the case.. what in the world was he looking at? He couldn’t be in two places at once..! Or could he? He turned around and took note of the bathroom door.
It wasn’t broken.
He reached out to touch it, but his hand went straight through it. With a deep breath and hard swallow, he turned back to the scene before him.
“You f-fucking, idiot..” Wilson tried to speak amidst his tears, “I should have n-never l-let you out of my sight.” House wasn’t sure if he had ever heard a more heartbreaking sound before in his life. He could feel his own heart seize up in pain as he tried to hold back his own set of tears.
He didn’t know how long Wilson stayed with him before someone came looking for him. Strangely enough, it was Jack. When the son caught sight of his father he broke down and confessed to him, sounding not to unlike a child about his love for his departed friend as he clung desperately to his motionless friend’s frame.
“I know.”
It took work, but he watched as the father pulled his son off the floor and out of the bathroom.
Like a film he watched helplessly as from that point on as Wilson’s life fell apart. He watched as his marriage fell though once again, how he tried to put his everything he had left into his work and patients. He watched for what felt like forever. It was like he was watching a depressing movie of a man’s life that went straight down hill no matter how hard he tried to play like nothing was wrong.
He was hurting. The man lost his only friend. Sure like he said once, he had acquaintances, but that didn’t truly make them friends. Even when he would chat with Cuddy the conversation was never as lively or exciting as if when he was with House, it was nothing but small talk or actually about the devil himself.
He watched this horrific movie as Wilson after work one day made his way to a pawnshop and purchased a small pistol. Right when he saw the money exchange hands he knew what was going to happen. He knew what the man was planning. It was like a train wreck that he simply couldn’t turn away from no matter how much he wanted to. It was almost as if someone was holding his eyes open for him. He just wanted this nightmare to end before anything happened, before he had to see what his sick and dark imagination had to show him.
It didn’t happen right away. It seemed to take time before the man could grab up enough courage to do it, and when that time came House pleaded in his mind to any just god or gods that may have been listening for him not to see this. As much as he wanted to believe that Wilson’s life would completely fall apart if anything were to happen to him he didn’t need to see the man blow his brains out just to get the point across.
He made his decision that he was going to try, even if it was just for Wilson and no one else.
He stared in horror as Wilson sat in a lonely hotel room situated behind some cheap desk as he stared at the gun that sat on the cold wooden desk top. The man couldn’t seem to pull his eyes away from the gun. He stared at it for what felt like an eternity.
When he finally did pick it up, House felt a shiver shoot deep throughout his whole body and down his spine. This just wasn’t right; he couldn’t just stand by and let this happen. The man closed his eyes as a tears streamed down his face as he placed the muzzle of the pistol to his temple.
He could see the man’s lips were moving, and could hear him whispering but couldn’t decipher what was being was being said. It wasn’t until he was standing at the desk and straining to hear before he could make sense of what was being said.
It was Hebrew. He was praying.
House didn’t know whether he was praying for his God’s forgiveness on what he was about to do or praying for safe travels into the next life or even praying about happier times. All he knew was that he was praying.
“Wilson, please… don’t do this.” House whispered.
Halfway though the prayer he cocked the gun and kept it to his temple.
“Jimmy, please!” He begged, but it was no use.. he couldn’t hear him. House knew the prayer was coming to an end by how Wilson had to force himself to speak the few remaining words. And with tears still streaking his face the prayer came to an end.
He pulled the trigger.
--
House let out a loud gasp as he shot up from his sleeping position on the couch and back to reality at the feeling of someone shaking him awake. When scared blue eyes were open and focused on the world around him, he was greeted with a pair of brown concerned ones. “Are you alright?” Wilson asked concerned as he adjusted his sling’s strap higher on his shoulder as he took a seat on the very edge of the couch that House wasn’t taking up. House let his body fall back against the cushions as he held a hand over his eyes while his heart pounded.
“You..!” He quickly pulled his hand away and stared angrily at the man sitting next to him at the same time he worked on catching his breath and trying his damnedest not to let his emotions get the better of him. He refused to break down and cry in front of Wilson, not now, not again. “You are not allowed to own a gun! Ever!” he informed as he continued to catch his breath, His heart was racing and he hoped in time he would come to forget this terrible nightmare like he did every other one he had. He turned his attention back to Wilson and pointed a threatening finger at him, “I swear if I ever see you with a gun I will throw it in a fucking river!” he tried to fan himself off a little. He was drenched in sweat.
Wilson stared bewildered. “Huh? What’s wrong? Did, did you have a bad dream?” House didn’t answer, only held a hand to his chest has he tried to school his breathing back to normal and covered his eyes once again with his hand. “What was it?”
He shook his head. “It was nothing.” He waved him off, “Forget about it.” He took another deep breath and closed his eyes tight before slowly pulling his hand away again. “How long was I asleep? Feels like I’ve been out for days.”
Wilson eyed his friend suspiciously but didn’t try to push the subject. If he wanted to talk about it he would soon enough. “A few hours. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sleep that hard, though. I mean, you didn’t even budge when the boy delivering the groceries from the market was pounding on the door. Normally you’d wake up at even the tiniest misstep.”
House took a hard swallow before finally sitting back up bringing his face only a few inches from Wilson’s and nodded.
“I didn’t want to wake you, I mean, I’m sure you’ve been needing a good sleep!” he got out nervously at House’s proximity, those blue eyes peering deeply into his. “I mean, have.. have you thought of using ear plugs when you sleep?” his words were jittery and panicky as his voice cracked from his nervousness; it was easy to see how tense he suddenly was.
House pulled himself away and Wilson quickly stood when House pulled his legs off the couch and onto the floor. “Then I wouldn’t be able to hear anything.”
“That’s the point.” He relayed as he made his way toward the kitchen. “Dinner’s ready, you want me to fix you some?”
House wasn’t hungry. At that moment he didn’t was to even think about eating ever again. Not after that dream. But he nodded anyway. He knew Wilson worked hard on dinner; the least he could do was force himself to eat some of it. In reality he hadn’t eaten since the day before.
And it did smell good.
Sixteen hours down, eight more to go.
--
A/N: I'm sorry it took me as long as it did to get this chapter out, i've been busy with this and that and frankly one of my other strange interest have been getting in the way as well, with me trying to read up like crazy on the said subject. Heh, but yeah, here you are, another chapter down and so many more to go! Ugh.. will this story ever end? Let's hope not! (Na, I already have the ending written out.. it'll just be a while before we get there..)
And sorry about that dream. I never meant for it to happen, but the inspiration for it hit while finishing up this chapter. Yesterday I watched a movie that near the end had quite a bit of suicide via a gun to the head.. makes my heart hurt just thinking about it.
And hello to my strange yet flattering anonymous stalker friend. You have certainly reminded me of something that I'm sure you can agree, to: I need to clean my journal and get rid of old forgotten chapters, eh?
--
COMING SOON: House waved him off. "I'm not on watch any more. Go get some sleep." he stretched back out on the couch and close his eyes.
God he was tired. There was nothing more at that moment he wanted more than to finally get some sleep... but he was still afraid for his friend. He seemed like the normal House he knew so well, but how did he know he wasn't just pulling some charade to make like everything was fine and okay?
House opened his eyes to find his friend still standing there awkwardly.
"Yes?"
"Uhh.. I, well -"
He rolled his eyes and slowly pushed himself into a sitting position to get a better look at Wilson. "You're afraid I might still hurt myself."
When Wilson didn't object he knew he was right.
"Look, if you're so scared about my well being and state of mind just take a nap in my room." he grabbed the remote and turned on the tv. "I'm going to be here a while."
Wilson nodded. This would make things much easier. This way he would be close by if something were to happen and possibly, just maybe his presence alone in the apartment may just convince House not to try anything stupid.