Author's Note: One-shot for "Out of the Chute", in which House cannonballs into a pool. Below lyrics from "My Body is a Cage", cover by Peter Gabriel. Enjoy and please review!
Later, when he thinks about the events of the night, he can't decide if he was surprised by the sight that stared down at him from that hotel balcony.
It had been an amazingly stressful week, even by House's-best-and-only-friend standards. He blames this on Cuddy to some extent—she's wrecked him. And that's a dangerous thing with someone so unstable. Wilson's always picking up the pieces, it seems, when each new catastrophe bitch slaps House. With his team leaving, with Amber, with Kutner, with his father, with Vicodin. And now with Cuddy. History always repeats itself.
He comes to the hotel, as he had almost everyday that week. He goes straight to the bar because he knows that's where House will be, silent, sullen, glass of whiskey in his hand.
But, of course, House is never predictable.
The bar is devoid of middle aged, crippled men. A group of very drunk college kids occupy most tables, while the few other patrons sip their drinks and glare in their general directions.
Wilson does a three-sixty of the half dark room, and then heads back outside. He looks around the pool area, the parking lot, the outdoor tables. And then something makes him look up. It's no physical sign, just a feeling that brings his eyes to the balcony.
His mind goes blank as he sees House climb the railing, reach to the next floor with his hands for stability.
Some parts of his minds slogs back into motion. Stability? In a suicide attempt? But it doesn't break through to his rational mind as his heart ramps up to what feels tachycardic. What the hell is going on?
It doesn't connect in his head. House loves himself. Cuddy couldn't have done that much damage. House wouldn't do this. People don't change.
And yet it looks a whole lot like things have shifted.
The world is crumbling under Wilson's feet, but he can't move, can't speak. As House balances precariously on the railing, a crowd begins to gather. They stare with their mouths agape at the man on the edge.
He takes on step, and then is in empty air.
Wilson finds his voice too late.
"No!"
Seconds later, House curls into a rolly-polly like ball, and yells, "Cannonball!"
There is a sickening slap as his body hits the clear water. He comes up screaming, and the crowd roars around Wilson. He meets House's eyes for half a second, sees that look of insanity. Of course not. Not House. Not even for Cuddy. Doesn't necessarily rule out the billion other ways House could kill himself indirectly, but those make more sense.
Take Vicodin, for instance.
Wilson just shakes his head, turning around and walking back toward his car. He can't deal with this, not at this level exhaustion. House has that effect on him, making him worry, sweat, shake, about the man's many unsolved problems. He finds his legs wobbly as his shoes clack against the pavement.
Later, when he thinks back on looking up at that balcony, his eyes fill with saltwater.
My body is a cage
That keeps me from dancing
With the one I love
My mind is the key.