when it's just you and i, that's when i'm home (g)

Dec 01, 2009 20:15

Title: when it's just you and I
Characters: House, Wilson (House/Wilson pre-slash)
Rating: G
Word Count: 438
Notes: Contains spoilers for Wilson.
Summary: Wilson realizes something just before he goes under.

He keeps his eyes open until the end.

Even as the nurse lowers the mask onto his face, he fights to keep his eyes open, fighting away the impending sense of drowsiness by blinking heavily.

He sees it just before he succumbs to sleep. The slight silhouette of the cane and the black coat and he makes a valiant effort to look at him, indicate something about how much this means to him.

Instead, he smiles and closes his eyes.

They say that your whole life flashes before you when you’re dying. They say that the person you want to be with when you’re dying is vastly different from the person you want to be with when you’re alive.

He’d expected to see his whole life once again. Something about his childhood or college or his brother. But he sees nothing of that sort.

When he closes his eyes and delves into the subconscious reality of his brain, all he sees is them. He sees himself and House sitting on his couch and watching TV while the latter’s making a face about his stuffed peppers or obsessive cleaning habits. In his mind, he formulates the next baseball game he wants to go to with him.

And, all of a sudden, he understands.

House is there when he wakes up. That means more to him than the plethora of bouquets and cards in his hospital room.

He wakes up in the middle of the night and sees House sitting on the recliner beside his bed. His legs are stretched, the journal he’d been reading is half open on his chest, and there’s a slight trail of drool coming from his mouth.

He smiles slightly. Propping himself up on his bed, he takes the spare blanket and drapes it over him.

Maybe, he thinks, he’s not alone after all.

He remembers this for the rest of his life:

‘If you die, I’m alone.’

He never expresses back that sentiment. Somehow, he thinks that House understands anyway.

He dreams that dream often. Sitting and watching TV with House, arguing over groceries or refrigerator space or the latest apocalyptic movie that’s just released.

He sort of likes that picture. Seeing House every morning when he’s brushing his teeth and seeing him every night before falling asleep. It makes him feel just a little more secure that his life isn’t in shambles. It makes him want to live just a little more vicariously.

He doesn’t want to let go of that feeling yet. So he picks up his phone and calls his ex-wife.

Because having this, he thinks, is worth not having anything else.

End.

character: greg house, fandom: everybody lies, character: james wilson

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