Lost The Will For Fighting
Title: Lost The Will For Fighting
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: House/everyone friendship
Spoilers: Up to Not Cancer
Summary: AU. Wilson leaves, and House cannot trust anymore. Follow-up to Trust.
A/N: I actually teared a little writing this.
I've lost the will for fighting
Over everything.
Well there's a few things I gotta say
And make no mistake, I'm mad…
'Cause every good thing I've had
Abandoned me.
- Walter Reed, by Michael Penn
When they bring him back from the hospital one month after they found him, House immediately scrambles to his room and locks the door. The only reason he actually made it through the entire car ride without launching into a panic attack is the generous dose of lorazepam in his veins.
Two weeks later, he still runs into the room when they enter, but no longer shoves the dresser against the door. Then a week later, the chair isn’t shoved against the door too. Then three weeks later, they don’t have to break in anymore, because he opens the door before limping back into the room. But that’s only after they promise to install the security screen and two of the strongest-looking chain locks.
They don’t give up, though. They know it’s important for them to establish a routine, and get him to learn to trust again. They need to show him that they can be trusted.
Three months pass since Wilson broke him, and still House does not leave the house.
Cuddy and the old team takes turns staying over when they realize he’s starting to get used to them again. The new team is too new, too unfamiliar. They watch over him, because after all, there are knives, pills, ropes in the house. There are many ways to take your own life. But he doesn’t. It puzzles them at first. This is the same person who stuck a knife into a wall socket.
No, actually. He’s not, they correct themselves.
They only realize why he is so willing to stay in the world of the living when Cameron and Chase enter one day to actually find him not scrambling for his room. He's nowhere to be seen.
They find him huddled behind the piano. In the small space between the piano and the wall, hands clamped around his ruined thigh. He had bitten his lip bloody, his body shaking. They can actually see his leg convulse with each spasm.
They search the apartment for the Vicodin, but only find empty bottles. There’s no more Vicodin.
Chase crawls under the piano slowly to reach House, who is huddled over and rocking back and forth. Chase, Cameron and Cuddy are the only people who can actually come into close proximity with House without him hyperventilating. Foreman, not so much. Kutner and Thirteen are okay. Definitely not Taub.
“House? It’s me, Chase. Your leg hurts, right? We’ll get you something for it soon, okay? Just hang on. It’s going to be okay.”
House doesn't seem to realize Chase is there. He’s talking to himself.
“Out of Vicodin. Wilson is going to give me a new prescription. Wait for Wilson, Greg. Pain is in your head anyway. Not real. Wait for Wilson’s prescription. He will come soon. Wilson will come soon, Greg. Wait for him to come back.”
Chase sucks in a breath. He has no idea how to go about this.
“House… I’ll get you the Vicodin, okay?”
For the first time in weeks, House actually makes eye contact. He stares into Chase’s eyes. His eyes are dull, thanks to the anti-anxiety meds. But his voice is defiant.
“Wilson is coming. He’ll give me the Vicodin. My leg doesn’t hurt. I don’t need Vicodin now. Wilson will give me Vicodin. He’ll come back soon.”
And he presses himself further into the wall to get away from Chase. even though moving his leg hurts so much that he actually cries a little. He’ll only come out when Wilson is back with the Vicodin.
It’s almost comical. Chase on all fours under the piano, talking to House, who is rocking back and forth in the confined space. But it’s not fucking funny at all. Chase actually feels like crying. Because Wilson isn’t coming back, no matter how much House says otherwise, no matter how much they try.
They only manage to get House out after they knock him out. Chase and Cameron call Cuddy to discuss it, and they decide to get a member of the new team to administer the drug. It’s Taub they call. He doesn’t get through to House as much as Thirteen and Kutner.
House refuses to see, or be in the same room as Taub for the next two months, because Taub betrayed his trust by giving him the drug.
-
They can all hear him at night.
Usually, in a dream, there are little signs that tell you you are dreaming, and when things get too much for you to handle, you jerk awake because your conscious mind says that’s enough.
But his dreams are so vivid, his subconscious so strong that his conscious mind can’t get through to tell him: Stop dreaming. It’s just a dream. You’re in bed, sleeping. It’s just a dream.
The first time it happens, Kutner and Chase actually bash the door open because it sounds so violent.
Sometimes, it’s the bus crash.
“Someone’s dying.”
“I’ve got to save the girl.”
“I need the answer to save the girl.”
“Resin. It’s resin….” And then he tenses, and whispers, “Amber.”
He thrashes and flails in bed. They think it’s a seizure at first, but they realize that he’s actually reliving the entire crash, over and over again. They can actually see the terror and desperation in his eyes, which snap wide open.
The blinding white light that approaches so fast. Her hair around her head like a halo.The screams of the passengers. The spinning of the bus, everything flying around him as he hangs on for life. He is flung upside down. He catches sight of her.
He stretches his hands as far as they can go, body straining to try and grasp the hand of an imaginary dying girl.
The bus stops moving, and he pants. He crawls to her.
He needs to save her. Wilson loves her. Wilson needs her.
“I have to tie this around you.”
And his hands reach out to pull an imaginary red scarf off a dying girl. They tremble.
“Stay with me. Just… stay with me.”
Sometimes, he’s a child, talking to his father.
“I’m sorry I failed. I’m sorry! Please, no ice. Please, dad.”
“It’s c-c-c-cold! So c-c-c-cold.”
And he shivers hard and long, even though he’s wrapped in blankets.
“I should h-h-have b-b-been able to save her.”
“Yes sir you are right, I should be p-p-punished for n-n-not b-b-being able t-t-to save her.”
“I’m sorry. It was my fault. I won’t do it again. I killed her. I sh-sh-should be punished.”
Sometimes, he’s talking to Wilson.
“You want me to risk my life to save Amber’s?”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“I should have been the one to die. Not her.”
“Please… Please don’t go. Please stay. Please don’t hate me.”
And he repeats the words “please” over and over again, breath hitching.
Sometimes he even talks to himself.
“Wilson will come back. He always does. Wilson will come back.”
“It’s okay, Greg. It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay.”
And then he dissolves into tears, and rocks himself in bed back into a dreamless state.
It’s the last statement that actually makes them cry. Cameron and Cuddy actually crawl into bed next to him and hug him, to give him that feeling of safety that now eludes him.
They don’t know that it really is a mantra, the closest thing to a prayer he has, because he has never really felt safe in his entire life.
Because it’s what he used to tell himself when he was eight and buried under blankets, trying to get warm again after the half an hour in the ice-bath.
It’s what he tells himself when he tries to sleep at night and the leg won’t stop hurting.
Now, it’s what he says to give himself hope, that Wilson will come back again. That Wilson won’t hate him anymore.
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: House/everyone friendship
Spoilers: Up to Not Cancer
Summary: AU. Wilson leaves, and House cannot trust anymore. Follow-up to Trust.
A/N: I actually teared a little writing this.
I've lost the will for fighting
Over everything.
Well there's a few things I gotta say
And make no mistake, I'm mad…
'Cause every good thing I've had
Abandoned me.
- Walter Reed, by Michael Penn
When they bring him back from the hospital one month after they found him, House immediately scrambles to his room and locks the door. The only reason he actually made it through the entire car ride without launching into a panic attack is the generous dose of lorazepam in his veins.
Two weeks later, he still runs into the room when they enter, but no longer shoves the dresser against the door. Then a week later, the chair isn’t shoved against the door too. Then three weeks later, they don’t have to break in anymore, because he opens the door before limping back into the room. But that’s only after they promise to install the security screen and two of the strongest-looking chain locks.
They don’t give up, though. They know it’s important for them to establish a routine, and get him to learn to trust again. They need to show him that they can be trusted.
Three months pass since Wilson broke him, and still House does not leave the house.
Cuddy and the old team takes turns staying over when they realize he’s starting to get used to them again. The new team is too new, too unfamiliar. They watch over him, because after all, there are knives, pills, ropes in the house. There are many ways to take your own life. But he doesn’t. It puzzles them at first. This is the same person who stuck a knife into a wall socket.
No, actually. He’s not, they correct themselves.
They only realize why he is so willing to stay in the world of the living when Cameron and Chase enter one day to actually find him not scrambling for his room. He's nowhere to be seen.
They find him huddled behind the piano. In the small space between the piano and the wall, hands clamped around his ruined thigh. He had bitten his lip bloody, his body shaking. They can actually see his leg convulse with each spasm.
They search the apartment for the Vicodin, but only find empty bottles. There’s no more Vicodin.
Chase crawls under the piano slowly to reach House, who is huddled over and rocking back and forth. Chase, Cameron and Cuddy are the only people who can actually come into close proximity with House without him hyperventilating. Foreman, not so much. Kutner and Thirteen are okay. Definitely not Taub.
“House? It’s me, Chase. Your leg hurts, right? We’ll get you something for it soon, okay? Just hang on. It’s going to be okay.”
House doesn't seem to realize Chase is there. He’s talking to himself.
“Out of Vicodin. Wilson is going to give me a new prescription. Wait for Wilson, Greg. Pain is in your head anyway. Not real. Wait for Wilson’s prescription. He will come soon. Wilson will come soon, Greg. Wait for him to come back.”
Chase sucks in a breath. He has no idea how to go about this.
“House… I’ll get you the Vicodin, okay?”
For the first time in weeks, House actually makes eye contact. He stares into Chase’s eyes. His eyes are dull, thanks to the anti-anxiety meds. But his voice is defiant.
“Wilson is coming. He’ll give me the Vicodin. My leg doesn’t hurt. I don’t need Vicodin now. Wilson will give me Vicodin. He’ll come back soon.”
And he presses himself further into the wall to get away from Chase. even though moving his leg hurts so much that he actually cries a little. He’ll only come out when Wilson is back with the Vicodin.
It’s almost comical. Chase on all fours under the piano, talking to House, who is rocking back and forth in the confined space. But it’s not fucking funny at all. Chase actually feels like crying. Because Wilson isn’t coming back, no matter how much House says otherwise, no matter how much they try.
They only manage to get House out after they knock him out. Chase and Cameron call Cuddy to discuss it, and they decide to get a member of the new team to administer the drug. It’s Taub they call. He doesn’t get through to House as much as Thirteen and Kutner.
House refuses to see, or be in the same room as Taub for the next two months, because Taub betrayed his trust by giving him the drug.
-
They can all hear him at night.
Usually, in a dream, there are little signs that tell you you are dreaming, and when things get too much for you to handle, you jerk awake because your conscious mind says that’s enough.
But his dreams are so vivid, his subconscious so strong that his conscious mind can’t get through to tell him: Stop dreaming. It’s just a dream. You’re in bed, sleeping. It’s just a dream.
The first time it happens, Kutner and Chase actually bash the door open because it sounds so violent.
Sometimes, it’s the bus crash.
“Someone’s dying.”
“I’ve got to save the girl.”
“I need the answer to save the girl.”
“Resin. It’s resin….” And then he tenses, and whispers, “Amber.”
He thrashes and flails in bed. They think it’s a seizure at first, but they realize that he’s actually reliving the entire crash, over and over again. They can actually see the terror and desperation in his eyes, which snap wide open.
The blinding white light that approaches so fast. Her hair around her head like a halo.The screams of the passengers. The spinning of the bus, everything flying around him as he hangs on for life. He is flung upside down. He catches sight of her.
He stretches his hands as far as they can go, body straining to try and grasp the hand of an imaginary dying girl.
The bus stops moving, and he pants. He crawls to her.
He needs to save her. Wilson loves her. Wilson needs her.
“I have to tie this around you.”
And his hands reach out to pull an imaginary red scarf off a dying girl. They tremble.
“Stay with me. Just… stay with me.”
Sometimes, he’s a child, talking to his father.
“I’m sorry I failed. I’m sorry! Please, no ice. Please, dad.”
“It’s c-c-c-cold! So c-c-c-cold.”
And he shivers hard and long, even though he’s wrapped in blankets.
“I should h-h-have b-b-been able to save her.”
“Yes sir you are right, I should be p-p-punished for n-n-not b-b-being able t-t-to save her.”
“I’m sorry. It was my fault. I won’t do it again. I killed her. I sh-sh-should be punished.”
Sometimes, he’s talking to Wilson.
“You want me to risk my life to save Amber’s?”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“I should have been the one to die. Not her.”
“Please… Please don’t go. Please stay. Please don’t hate me.”
And he repeats the words “please” over and over again, breath hitching.
Sometimes he even talks to himself.
“Wilson will come back. He always does. Wilson will come back.”
“It’s okay, Greg. It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay.”
And then he dissolves into tears, and rocks himself in bed back into a dreamless state.
It’s the last statement that actually makes them cry. Cameron and Cuddy actually crawl into bed next to him and hug him, to give him that feeling of safety that now eludes him.
They don’t know that it really is a mantra, the closest thing to a prayer he has, because he has never really felt safe in his entire life.
Because it’s what he used to tell himself when he was eight and buried under blankets, trying to get warm again after the half an hour in the ice-bath.
It’s what he tells himself when he tries to sleep at night and the leg won’t stop hurting.
Now, it’s what he says to give himself hope, that Wilson will come back again. That Wilson won’t hate him anymore.