Sixth Sense
Author: Storm
Cast: House/Wilson (established) & Amber.
Rating: K+
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Greg House, M.D. Including his creators. And theirs.
Summary: House has been clean for one year. Amber's been dead for two. And the perfect time to talk about it is three in the morning…
A/N: 1) Dialogue only. 2) For those of you waiting, SA is kicking my ass. Chapter six up soon, I swear!
Reviews are as scrumptious Wilson's macadamia nut pancakes ;)
"You know, seeing dead people is a symptom of insanity. Seriously. It says so on my patient file."
"Hah—hmm…huh?"
"Oh. You were sleeping. You talk in your sleep?"
"You play the piano in my sleep. And porn. And you pace. And you wake me up with patient-related epiphanies. And…whatever this is."
"I thought you were talking to Amber again. 'Cause, talking to somebody that you can't see—"
"Means I'm using the telephone?"
"You mean a Ouija board."
"I wasn't talking to Amber, with or without props. Were you talking to Amber?"
"Why, jealous?"
"Are you? … House?"
"Yeah. My role in this relationship is to be your therapist while you cry into your pillow at night. No, wait. Armchair psychiatry your thing."
"Ouch! That's a different thing. Watch where you're swatting when you emphasise your points on the bedcovers, will you?"
"It's dark. I can't watch."
"Then turn on a light."
"And there was light. Hello again, God."
"You know you're going to hell, right?"
"You don't believe in hell."
"I do now."
"What was that?"
"Nothing. Ugh. Would you look at the clock? It's three in the morning!"
"Exactly why I didn't want you talking to Amber."
"Why? You obviously weren't sleeping."
"It's the witching hour. Duh! You start summoning demons at this time and she might just turn up."
"Only in your hallucinations. Oh! Shoot. Are you okay?"
"I'm not hallucinating. Oh for—don't sit up. Not with that look on your fac—oh, God. Forsake me. Please. No? Should I move the pillows—?"
"To make a fort?"
"To make a couch. You look like my shrink."
"A fifty-nine year old African American? You know, when you said you were seeing him to talk, I didn't realise you meant to talk…"
"Ugh. He doesn't usually conduct sessions naked! Geez, did you have to give me that mental image?"
"Hey, you woke me up. You deserve a few nightmares. Why d'you care whether or not I was talking to Amber?"
"You said you weren't!"
"I wasn't! That was hypothetical."
"Well, hypothetically, you were annoying me. You were keeping me awake."
"No. From those shadows under your eyes and how clammy your skin is – ow! Stop hitting me—"
"Stop pawing me. Wuss."
"Jerk. It was your leg keeping you awake again, wasn't it?"
"Did anything about this conversation imply I wanted you to act like your momma?"
"Your mom."
"No. My mom never fussed like that. She hated me."
"Your mom?"
"No! Cutthroat Bitch."
"Oh. Okay… Uh, what has Nolan been doing to you? You've never cared what people think—oh. Oh, House. This again? I don't hate you."
"Never said you did."
"You implied."
"You know, contrary to what the new agers believe, there is no actual sixth sense. Ergo, you can't get information from it that's diagnostically relevant."
"I believe sight is still one of the five. I saw you at the cemetery today. You gave me a ride home, remember?"
"I didn't go to see her."
"No, you were stalking me again. You can call Triple A to put the air back in my tyres in the morning, before you give me a ride to collect the car. Don't smile. Jackass. You must've known I'd guess you weren't being magnanimous. You were scared I'd change my mind and go back to work at New York Mercy."
"You were up there this week."
"On a consult! Who told you?"
"I bribed your secretary."
"You mean threatened. Damnit, House, if she quits you get to interview me another one. At least whoever you hire won't be scared of you."
"No, they'll be my informant."
"They already are!"
"Only when you lie to me. You said you were going to visit Danny."
"Well, technically, he is in New York – and I did see him. I stopped by, after I'd been to Oncology. I didn't tell you about that because I knew you'd react like this."
"Like what?"
"You don't scare me with that tone. I knew you'd worry about it and pretend you weren't and that makes your leg hurt – worse – and that makes you worry about that too. You should call Nolan."
"Now? It's three a.m."
"Well, no. Tomorrow. Today. Later today."
"Yeaaaah. This talking cure is working out great. Now my leg hurts and my head hurts."
"House?"
"What?"
"Amber didn't hate you either."
"Amber wanted to kill me, skin me, and wear my pelt while she fucked you."
"That was just to give me nightmares too, wasn't it? Yeah. Figured. … You're wrong, you know. Amber liked you."
"Right. Sure."
"Hey! Y'know, lamps come with an off switch as well as an on switch. You don't have to shove them onto the floor so they break and buy a new one every time. Oh, and by the way, that switch only works on the light, not the conversation."
"It was an accident."
"Riiiight. Sure."
"Wilson?"
"Yeah?"
"I liked her too. … Hey. Hey. Oh shit, don't do that. Uh…you know it would never have worked, right? The whole time-share, unconsummated threeway thing she and I had going over you."
"Yeah…well…sometimes I l-like to d-dream."
"So you were dreaming about her?"
"I'm sorry. … It's just…uh…I c-can't believe it's been t-two y-years."
"S'okay."
"I still don't hate you. You know I—"
"Shh. Not your wife. You don't have to say that."
"No, I want to. I—"
"I know. You too, right?"
"Yeah, House. I know."
"If you do…want to talk…just…wipe the snot on the bedcovers, yeah? I'll move the pillows. You can even put your head in my lap."
"Uh huh. I think that means we're done talking."
"Nahhh. Now we're talking!"
[End].
