Silent Prayers 17/?
Title: Silent Prayers
Author: xgraciela
Pairing: H/W strong friendship (and bits of Cuddy)
Rating: Probably PG-13 from now
Warnings: angst, some violence, mild graphics and swearing...
Dicslaimer: They are not mine, but I like to borrow Wilson sometimes ^^
Beta: Thank you very much
sodiumbisulfite !! *hugs* The rest is mine...
Summary: Wilson is gone missing... Read to find out more!
He’s awoken by strong, loud thuds to the door of the stall. He blinks several times and tries to clear his mind again.
“Hey! What are you doing there? I need to clean this up!” Some woman’s voice is shouting.
Damn. He must have passed out and ended up on the floor. Slowly, he scrambles to his knees and the pain in his head is stabbing him. The only thing he wants is to curl himself up and stay on the floor. However, he continues the process of standing up.
“Yeah...just a minute, I’ll right out.“ He mumbles and tries to steady himself with the help of the wall. He has to suppress the urge to puke. He unlocks the door and steps out. The cleaning lady throws him the most disgusting glare.
“There should be some kind of prohibition for dossers! I’m sick of cleaning these bogs after you!” She’s yelling in a very unpleasant tone for Wilson’s ears and head, so he retreats quickly from the room.
She’s still cursing when he’s standing back outside. It’s dark again and Wilson assumes that he was lying in that damn stall for the whole afternoon. He tightens his coat, already damaged on lots of places, and shivers. It seems to be another night without a roof over his head.
He sits on a concrete bench, holding his right hand tightly. It’s still pretty swollen. He sees the cleaning lady emerge from bathroom. She doesn’t see him and she is not looking in his direction.
Good.
He thinks about going back in, but decides against this idea. It’s too risky. Someone from the staff could see him and call the police just because of his appearance. He hates himself for looking homeless. At least now he has a relatively clean face.
The cold outside starts to be unbearable. It’s worse than yesterday. Wilson only has two choices. Stay here and probably freeze to death, or leave.
Even though he’s miserable, he doesn’t want to be frozen, so he stands up and moves, almost limping, slowly towards the road.
The knocking on the door doesn’t subside as he’s limping through the hall. House was sleeping and now there’s something to disturb him from his misery.
“I said go away!” He yells.
“House! It’s me. You weren’t picking up the phone!” Cuddy sounds desperate.
“That can happen when you switch it off!” His phone is still lying on the floor from earlier that day. “Go away!”
“I’m not going anywhere. Let me in...Please,” her tone is soft now.
Finally the lock rattles and the door is opened. House is standing in the doorway only in his shorts and a rumpled T-shirt. He doesn’t care if she sees his exposed thigh and that’s bad.
“Can I come inside?” She asks hopefully but he doesn’t answer. He just steps to the side to make way for her.
Cuddy goes into the apartment and finds nothing new. The mess is in its place like every time before. Then her eyes spot the splintered glass on the floor and the picture lying under it. She picks it up and puts it on the coffee table.
House doesn’t move or say anything. He keeps standing by the door and stares at her. She’s wearing a black outfit. It matches perfectly to her hair but also to her state of mind. He assumes that she has come directly from Wilson’s ‘Goodbye’ party at the hospital.
She lifts her head and looks at him. “Your co-workers wanted me to let you know that they are sorry for your...loss.”
He doesn’t say a word and she doesn’t know how to continue. “House?” Still he doesn’t answer.
“Did you eat anything?” She glances at the coffee table where she sees an empty bottle of Scotch. Cuddy is clever enough not to comment on it.
“I assume, no. Here,” she puts down a bag of packed food. “I’ve brought you something.” Cuddy draws herself up again.
“Thanks.” He limps slowly and lowers himself onto the couch.
“You don’t want to know when the funeral will be, am I right?” She asks carefully.
“Yeah, you are.” He doesn’t look at her.
“Ok, anyway, it’s Wednesday 4 pm, in the cemetery chapel. Just in case you change your mind,” she adds sadly.
There is no response and Cuddy can’t hold herself back and puts her hand on his shoulder. “I understand how you feel, but remember: he wouldn’t want you to be so sad. He would want you to be yourself.” She withdraws her hand and turns to leave.
When she’s closing the door behind her, there are the tears in her eyes.
tbc...
I know it's short, but I wanted to post something for you today : )
Author: xgraciela
Pairing: H/W strong friendship (and bits of Cuddy)
Rating: Probably PG-13 from now
Warnings: angst, some violence, mild graphics and swearing...
Dicslaimer: They are not mine, but I like to borrow Wilson sometimes ^^
Beta: Thank you very much
sodiumbisulfite !! *hugs* The rest is mine...
Summary: Wilson is gone missing... Read to find out more!
He’s awoken by strong, loud thuds to the door of the stall. He blinks several times and tries to clear his mind again.
“Hey! What are you doing there? I need to clean this up!” Some woman’s voice is shouting.
Damn. He must have passed out and ended up on the floor. Slowly, he scrambles to his knees and the pain in his head is stabbing him. The only thing he wants is to curl himself up and stay on the floor. However, he continues the process of standing up.
“Yeah...just a minute, I’ll right out.“ He mumbles and tries to steady himself with the help of the wall. He has to suppress the urge to puke. He unlocks the door and steps out. The cleaning lady throws him the most disgusting glare.
“There should be some kind of prohibition for dossers! I’m sick of cleaning these bogs after you!” She’s yelling in a very unpleasant tone for Wilson’s ears and head, so he retreats quickly from the room.
She’s still cursing when he’s standing back outside. It’s dark again and Wilson assumes that he was lying in that damn stall for the whole afternoon. He tightens his coat, already damaged on lots of places, and shivers. It seems to be another night without a roof over his head.
He sits on a concrete bench, holding his right hand tightly. It’s still pretty swollen. He sees the cleaning lady emerge from bathroom. She doesn’t see him and she is not looking in his direction.
Good.
He thinks about going back in, but decides against this idea. It’s too risky. Someone from the staff could see him and call the police just because of his appearance. He hates himself for looking homeless. At least now he has a relatively clean face.
The cold outside starts to be unbearable. It’s worse than yesterday. Wilson only has two choices. Stay here and probably freeze to death, or leave.
Even though he’s miserable, he doesn’t want to be frozen, so he stands up and moves, almost limping, slowly towards the road.
The knocking on the door doesn’t subside as he’s limping through the hall. House was sleeping and now there’s something to disturb him from his misery.
“I said go away!” He yells.
“House! It’s me. You weren’t picking up the phone!” Cuddy sounds desperate.
“That can happen when you switch it off!” His phone is still lying on the floor from earlier that day. “Go away!”
“I’m not going anywhere. Let me in...Please,” her tone is soft now.
Finally the lock rattles and the door is opened. House is standing in the doorway only in his shorts and a rumpled T-shirt. He doesn’t care if she sees his exposed thigh and that’s bad.
“Can I come inside?” She asks hopefully but he doesn’t answer. He just steps to the side to make way for her.
Cuddy goes into the apartment and finds nothing new. The mess is in its place like every time before. Then her eyes spot the splintered glass on the floor and the picture lying under it. She picks it up and puts it on the coffee table.
House doesn’t move or say anything. He keeps standing by the door and stares at her. She’s wearing a black outfit. It matches perfectly to her hair but also to her state of mind. He assumes that she has come directly from Wilson’s ‘Goodbye’ party at the hospital.
She lifts her head and looks at him. “Your co-workers wanted me to let you know that they are sorry for your...loss.”
He doesn’t say a word and she doesn’t know how to continue. “House?” Still he doesn’t answer.
“Did you eat anything?” She glances at the coffee table where she sees an empty bottle of Scotch. Cuddy is clever enough not to comment on it.
“I assume, no. Here,” she puts down a bag of packed food. “I’ve brought you something.” Cuddy draws herself up again.
“Thanks.” He limps slowly and lowers himself onto the couch.
“You don’t want to know when the funeral will be, am I right?” She asks carefully.
“Yeah, you are.” He doesn’t look at her.
“Ok, anyway, it’s Wednesday 4 pm, in the cemetery chapel. Just in case you change your mind,” she adds sadly.
There is no response and Cuddy can’t hold herself back and puts her hand on his shoulder. “I understand how you feel, but remember: he wouldn’t want you to be so sad. He would want you to be yourself.” She withdraws her hand and turns to leave.
When she’s closing the door behind her, there are the tears in her eyes.
tbc...
I know it's short, but I wanted to post something for you today : )