Differential Diagnosis People: Locked Up and Set Free
Sorry for the delay in getting this up, but we've got a good long read here for this week. Check it out and let folks know what you think.
A Word of Warning: There are spoilers in the fic through the end of the third season's Tritter arc. If you haven't seen and are staying spoiler free, beware.
Title and Link: Locked Up and Set Free
http://deelaundry.livejournal.com/28359.html
Author: Deelaundry
Rating: PG-13
Synopsis: Action and inaction; proximity and distance; consequence and meaning. What Wilson says; what House does.
Nominated by: Zulu
Why should this be in the Hall of Fame? "Locked Up and Set Free" is a story of House and Wilson's friendship encountering something it can't survive: distance, time, and inevitable change. Set during the Tritter arc, and presuming that Wilson goes to jail for House, it sets up a situation that forces House and Wilson to be apart, and then shows the results of that separation. House closes himself off even further and Wilson finds others' needs to meet; afterwards, they both fail to bridge the gap. The story is true to the characters and their emotions, and the situation is so realistic that the powerful ending stayed with me long after I finished reading it. The final lines pack a punch that isn't necessarily foreshadowed by the mediocre opening scene; but the story drew me in and held me captive until the end. I thought at first that I hated the story, but then I realized that my emotional reaction to it was just that strong. Go. Read. Get really, really, stupidly depressed.
Sample from the text:
“You’re angry at me.” God, he sounded like a toddler. His best friend was leaving tomorrow for a federal prison for twelve months, and all he could talk about was himself. Well, why not be typical at this late stage of the game? Give ’em what they came for.
“Yes, House, I am angry at you,” Wilson replied calmly. House caught his eyes and couldn’t look away. “I’m angry at you because you let your pain management get way out of hand and wouldn’t ask anyone for help and were a stubborn idiot bastard and…” Wilson trailed off, pursed his lips, and closed his eyes.
“So, not angry at all then?”
Wilson took a breath and opened his eyes again. “You still owe me for all that. But I’m not angry at you because I’m going to jail. I did what I had to do. You’re better off for it, and the world’s better off for it. That’s good.”
House looked down, trailed a finger across his desk. “If I said thank you…”
“And gave me a heart attack?” Wilson interrupted, amused. “They’d send me to the hospital ward instead of general population, but I’d still be going to prison.”
House nodded. All the things in his mind were moving at just as furious a pace, but they’d all blended together now and were coating the inside of his head. The consistency of blood, smacking and spattering. He needed to look up, get up, make this moment count, give Wilson some kind of good memory to carry with him, but he couldn’t do it. The twisting dervish had grabbed his brain, shredded rational thought, and disabled his motor functions. Any moment now it’d suck in the autonomic nervous system, and his heart would blessedly stop.
“Use your time wisely, House.” The warmth in Wilson’s voice was painful to hear. “Make me proud.”
He finally got his neck to move and looked up. Wilson was at the door, looking back over his shoulder. He smiled again and said, “I’ll be seeing you.”
House’s mouth opened slowly, but before any words could come out, Wilson was gone. “I’ll miss you” hung in the air, unheard, for a very, very long time.
A Word of Warning: There are spoilers in the fic through the end of the third season's Tritter arc. If you haven't seen and are staying spoiler free, beware.
Title and Link: Locked Up and Set Free
http://deelaundry.livejournal.com/28359.html
Author: Deelaundry
Rating: PG-13
Synopsis: Action and inaction; proximity and distance; consequence and meaning. What Wilson says; what House does.
Nominated by: Zulu
Why should this be in the Hall of Fame? "Locked Up and Set Free" is a story of House and Wilson's friendship encountering something it can't survive: distance, time, and inevitable change. Set during the Tritter arc, and presuming that Wilson goes to jail for House, it sets up a situation that forces House and Wilson to be apart, and then shows the results of that separation. House closes himself off even further and Wilson finds others' needs to meet; afterwards, they both fail to bridge the gap. The story is true to the characters and their emotions, and the situation is so realistic that the powerful ending stayed with me long after I finished reading it. The final lines pack a punch that isn't necessarily foreshadowed by the mediocre opening scene; but the story drew me in and held me captive until the end. I thought at first that I hated the story, but then I realized that my emotional reaction to it was just that strong. Go. Read. Get really, really, stupidly depressed.
Sample from the text:
“You’re angry at me.” God, he sounded like a toddler. His best friend was leaving tomorrow for a federal prison for twelve months, and all he could talk about was himself. Well, why not be typical at this late stage of the game? Give ’em what they came for.
“Yes, House, I am angry at you,” Wilson replied calmly. House caught his eyes and couldn’t look away. “I’m angry at you because you let your pain management get way out of hand and wouldn’t ask anyone for help and were a stubborn idiot bastard and…” Wilson trailed off, pursed his lips, and closed his eyes.
“So, not angry at all then?”
Wilson took a breath and opened his eyes again. “You still owe me for all that. But I’m not angry at you because I’m going to jail. I did what I had to do. You’re better off for it, and the world’s better off for it. That’s good.”
House looked down, trailed a finger across his desk. “If I said thank you…”
“And gave me a heart attack?” Wilson interrupted, amused. “They’d send me to the hospital ward instead of general population, but I’d still be going to prison.”
House nodded. All the things in his mind were moving at just as furious a pace, but they’d all blended together now and were coating the inside of his head. The consistency of blood, smacking and spattering. He needed to look up, get up, make this moment count, give Wilson some kind of good memory to carry with him, but he couldn’t do it. The twisting dervish had grabbed his brain, shredded rational thought, and disabled his motor functions. Any moment now it’d suck in the autonomic nervous system, and his heart would blessedly stop.
“Use your time wisely, House.” The warmth in Wilson’s voice was painful to hear. “Make me proud.”
He finally got his neck to move and looked up. Wilson was at the door, looking back over his shoulder. He smiled again and said, “I’ll be seeing you.”
House’s mouth opened slowly, but before any words could come out, Wilson was gone. “I’ll miss you” hung in the air, unheard, for a very, very long time.