A/N: This was written for a prompt I found over at LJ in the SickHouse community. I just thought I might as well post it here too. If you read, please review.
Warning: unbetaed
It was a morning pretty much like any other - the leg was its usual self, he'd had the usual restless night - but today something was definitely not right with House. He hadn't even opened his eyes yet when he realized that something was wrong. Seriously wrong.
There was a pain in his chest he'd never felt before and there was also a shooting pain in his left arm. He was having trouble breathing. He was starting to sweat.
The rational part of House's brain immediately shifted from first gear into fourth – diagnostitian mode – and started sorting through the symptoms, quickly coming up with a diagnosis.
He was having a heart attack.
When he'd reached that conclusion the snarky part of his brain couldn't keep quiet, but had to chime in: Fucking great! You haven't even lifted a finger today and you're already dying...
House tried opening his eyes, but that didn't help much. The room was spinning. He opened his mouth and managed to croak one word.
„Wilson!"
No answer came forth. House wondered briefly where Wilson was at this early hour, but then he remembered. Wilson wasn't there. Wilson wasn't living with him any more. Because he, House, had driven him away, had broken up with him, like he'd always done when a relationship got too close.
Fucking Fantastic!
He was dying and there was noone there to help him, or at least be with him, because he was too much of a self-centered bastard to maintain a functioning relationship with another human being. All he had left was Steve McQueen. And for some reason that thought wasn't very comforting.
Think, House, think!
His cellphone. Right. He could call an ambulance. If they arrived in time he might have a chance. The attack didn't seem to be too serious. House fumbled for his cellphone, which he had left on his nightstand the previous evening. His vision was blurry, but he managed to press 911 and the dial-button. Now all he had to do was speak...
Get a grip, damn it!
„How may I help you?" The words traveled slowly through the haze that was building up in his brain. The small part of it that remained focused, told him what to do.
You have to speak. NOW!
„Need... help" House croaked wondering if the words made any sense. „Heart attack..."
„Where are you sir? Do you have anyone there who might assist you?"
The words didn't register, but House knew he had to tell the woman where he was. If he didn't, they wouldn't be able to send an ambulance. So he pulled himself together once more. The pain in his chest was getting worse, he could barely breathe, spots danced in front of his eyes.
„Baker Street... two... two one... B. Greg... House. Quick!"
Maybe he'd misjudged the seriousness of the attack when he'd thought it wasn't too bad.
Everything went black.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
„How bad is it?"
He knew that voice. He knew that he knew that voice, because he liked the sound of it. He remembered listening to it. Who was it? Just open your eyes and see, moron. Ahhh, Snarky was up too. Should he open his eyes? Noooo... to tired! Just keep listening.
„I don't know. The medics said they reached his home only five minutes after he called. Lucky they were in the area. But it looked pretty grim anyway. He's lucky if he wakes up alright, at all."
He knew that voice too. But he didn't like it as much as the first one. It was higher and a little squeaky. He wanted the first voice to speak again.
„God, I should never have left him. I should have been there for him. What if he doesn't wake up again?"
The voice sounded so sad and tired, House wanted to reach out and tell it that things would be alright. But he couldn't summon the energy. So he just kept listening.
„It's not your fault. Noone could have known he'd have a heart attack..."
„...He already had an infarction once, it was only a matter of time."
„Okay, but it could have happened anytime and anywhere. And besides, wasn't he the one who threw you out? It's not like you had a choice."
What the hell are they talking about?
Couldn't they be more specific? Who threw whom out? What was the voice's fault? Damn it, what were they doing here with him anyway? And where was here? What happened?
Too many questions!! Stop thinking, listen!
Somewhere in the background was a slow, steady beeping noice. Heart-monitor, House's brain supplied. It sounded alright enough. Whoever it was, was probably out of the depths. The beeping also meant that he was in a hospital.
„I know!" Now the voice sobbed. A heartbreaking sound. I made House want to reach out. But that would mean he had to open his eyes first.
„Wilson..." The other voice was soothing. Good. That meant he didn't have to move just yet.
Wilson...
The word sank in slowly. A face appeared which was attached to that name. A handsome face, smiling happily, brown eyes sparkling, hair unkempt and tie hanging loose.
Wilson...
Another expression. Sad, this time, shocked, disbelieving, hurt. So much pain in those beautiful brown eyes. The eyes were begging - Please, don't do this... He remembered those words.
Wilson...
Memories came rushing back now. The break-up. Wilson moving out. Being alone again. Waking up in the morning with a pain in his chest. Calling for help. What a strange thing life was.
You threw him out. He should be the one lying here with a broken heart. Not you. Your heart hasn't been broken...
Could one break his own heart? What an intrigueing question. He'd have to think about it - later. Now there were more pressing matters he needed to deal with. Namely opening his eyes. There was a short quiet struggle between will and body, but in the end will won.
House opened his eyes.
There he was. Wilson. And next to him stood... Cuddy... right. She had put her hand on Wilson's arm. House couldn't see his expression, because he'd turned around to look at their boss. Cuddy's eyes strayed over to House.
„Wilson!" She gasped staring at House. Wilson spun around. „Greg!"
Oh god, those brown eyes, so big and full of worry.
And he was the reason for it. If he'd had any energy left he'd have felt guilty and blushed. But as it was, all he had the strength to do was not to give into that urge to go to sleep again.
They stared at each other for an eternity.
Dr. Cuddy stepped around and approached the other side of House's bed. She was saying something, but House wasn't paying her any attention. He was completely focused on Wilson's face. The only thought in his head was that he wanted to see Wilson happy again. The way he had looked in that first memory.
Do something! Show him you're okay.
But he wasn't sure what. All the worry and sadness and fear in Wilson's face made House's chest hurt. The beeping sound in the background became faster and slightly erratic. Dr. Cuddy was speaking again, but still House ignored her.
Gotta make him smile again.
Only by sheer force of will was House able to raise his hand. He turned it palm-up and reached out for Wilson.
Say something!
„I'm... okay... don't worry." His voice sounded horrible. Like a bullfrog who'd choked on a fly. But at least he'd spoken. Wilson now knew that things were alright. He could stop worrying. Strangely enough Wilson's eyes suddenly filled with tears.
That was odd. What had he said? He was sure he'd said the right thing... Why was Wilson crying? House was confused. He blinked several times, trying to get some sense into the situation. At least Cuddy had stopped talking.
Then Wilson moved. He stepped closer to the bed and took House's still outstretched hand. Through his tears Wilson said something. House tried to focus again. He had to listen now. This would be important.
„House, do you know what happened to you?"
Sure I do. This isn't something you'd forget easily.
„heart-attack"
House's eyes drifted shut. It was astonishing how much energy it took to say one simple word.
„House, stay with me. Just a couple more minutes, then you can go back to sleep." Wilson's voice was calm, but House could still detect an underlying strain. He opened his eyes again. Anything for Wilson...
Anything for Wilson...
What a strange thing to think. House couldn't remember ever thinking it before. But he realized it was true. He'd do anything for Wilson. He had to let him know. Had to tell him.
„Anything for... you."
Wilson's eyes widened in surprise. Good. Now that he'd started he might as well get it all out. He wanted to explain, to apologize, to let Wilson know how much of an idiot he'd been. How horrible those last two days alone had been. That he wanted to make it up to Wilson. That he wanted Wilson back in his apartment, in his life. But he couldn't summon the energy. All he could manage was one sentence.
„I love you."
As his eyes drifted shut he caught one last glimpse of Wilson's face. His eyes shone and his lips formed the words House didn't need to hear, to know what they meant. Everything went black again and the last thing he knew, was that the rhythm of the beeping was steady again.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The next time House woke up to the feeling of something pricking his skin. He opened his eyes to find out the cause and if it was serious enough to require any movement.
Dr. Chase was standing beside the bed, drawing blood from House's arm. He noticed that House had woken up and smiled reassuringly.
„I'll be done in a second. Just hold still." he said in an attempt to soothe his boss. House just grunted and let his eyes travel through the rest of the room. ICU – his brain supplied immediately. He had no trouble remembering what had happened to him this time.
In the corner of the room Wilson was sitting in a chair. He had obviously been asleep only moments before, because he was blinking confusedly, trying to get his bearings. House's lips curled into the smallest of smiles. He loved those first moments of Wilson waking up. He always looked so confused and young.
Wilson got to his feet and came over. „Hey. How are you feeling?"
„Dandy..." House noticed that his voice didn't sound as bad as before. Good. „Give me details."
Wilson obviously knew what he meant, because he promptly supplied the desired information.
„You had a heart attack. The paramedics found you just in time. They gave you Nitro and Oxygen and brought you here and we did an EKG and an Angiography. Fortunately they didn't need to do an Angioplasty, because the Thrombolytics helped. Your now on Heparin and BetaBlockers and Morphine for the pain.
You're going to have to stay here for at least another couple days, to make sure there is no lasting damage, but I think you can be refered to a normal room soon."
House nodded. It all sounded simple enough. He looked up at Wilson again and saw that his friend was watching him intently. Chase had left sometime during Wilson's speech and now they were alone. The curtains screening them from their surroundings.
Gotta talk feelings now...
The realization made House's stomach clench. He hated those kind of talks. But he also knew that this time there was no way around it. Not after he'd said the L-word...
Well, he wouldn't be the one to start.
If he wants to talk, let him go first.
Wilson kept looking at House. It was evident form his expression that he was trying to find the right words. The right way to get to House, without offending him or driving him into sarcasm.
„How are you feeling?"
So he's decided to start safe... Well, already answered that one didn't I.
„I'm tired and I feel like I've just been rolled over by a bulldozer, but otherwise I'm fine."
That was the longest explanation of 'how he felt' in a long time. If that didn't satisfy Wilson then he didn't know what would.
„You're going to feel better in a few days. It seems your heart hasn't suffered any lasting damage. We'll confirm that later." Wilson cleared his throat. „How do you feel?"
House was confused for a second. He'd answered that question half a minute ago. Then the meaning dawned on him. Shit... He'd have to talk about feelings now. Life sucked.
„I... erm..." he struggled for words. „I'm sorry."
There, now he'd said it. His second most hated sentence in the world. Came right after that three-word one with the L-word. Christ, Wilson was a real bastard. Making him do this a few hours after he'd almost died.
„Sorry for what?"
Good Lord, use your brain, moron!
House rushed the next words so fast, Wilson had trouble getting the meaning. „I'm sorry I broke up with you. I'm sorry for being such a cowardly ass. I'm sorry that I made you worry about me. I'm sorry..." he drifted off.
„Well, the heart attack wasn't your fault. But all the rest... if... if you really mean it then... I accept your aplology and I forgive you."
Wilson rubbed the back of his neck. He was obviously feeling nervous. House rolled his eyes. He opened his mouth to tell Wilson what a wuss he was. But the words got lost somewhere along the way and what he said instead was:
„Will you move back in with me?"
God, this heart attack had turned him into a wuss too...
Wilson lips curled into a smile halfway between mocking and joyful. A smile he'd definitely stolen form House. Apparently it was one of those smiles that were contagious, because House could feel his own lips curl. He suddenly felt a fervent urge to touch Wilson. His hands went up before he could stop himself and he held his arms open for an embrace.
You Idiot! He hasn't even answered yet!
House could feel himself blush and he slowly started to put his hands down. But before he'd moved more than an inch Wilson was there, between his arms, bending down and gently stroking House's cheek. He bent down lower until his mouth was next to Houses ear and then he spoke.
„As you wish!"
The beeping in the background sped up.
House felt a rush of relief and... was that happiness? – what a strange feeling, but not bad. No definitely not bad. He brought his hands around Wilson's back and pulled him closer, not caring if the position might be uncomfortable for Wilson.
After a while Wilson pulled his head back and planted a kiss on House's lips. Then he started to move and House was suddenly afraid he might pull away. But Wilson just repositioned himself so that he was lying on the bed next to House.
„Don't you think I'd make a much better 'Dread Pirate Roberts' than you?"
„Shut up, Buttercup!"
House grinned and let the topic rest. There was always time for it later. Now all that was important was feeling Wilson next to him. Feeling alive.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
They had to entangle themselves eventually. Wilson had to go and see his patients. But he promised to come back later. He kept his promise.
„Hey!" Wilson stuck his head into House's room. House had been moved to a normal room a couple hours earlier and was watching a rerun of 'General Hospital'. He turned the TV off when Wilson stepped inside. He had a snarky remark on his lips when he realized Wilson's serious expression. He bit back the remark.
„House. We need to talk." Wilson pulled a chair close and sat down beside House's bed.
Oh no, not now!
„If you want me to move back in with you, things are going to have to change."
„You already agreed to move back in. You can't say yes and set conditions later."
Get him distracted...
But Wilson wasn't to be distracted. Not now, not yet. This was too important for him, House could see the determination on his face.
„House!"
„Alright, which conditions?"
„First: You go and get yourself a reasonable pain-management. Second: You start eating more healthy – and no more binge-drinking. Third: You go to cardiac therapy and there will be no bolting out after three sessions this time."
House pulled a face. He didn't like the sound of this. Didn't like it at all.
Gotta find a way out of this...
„If there is any problem I'll be there for you. We'll go through this together. But if I find you cheating or giving up I'll be gone. And I won't come back. This is our last chance. Do you get me?"
Oh, he got Wilson alright. He'd never seen him look more serious and determined. And as much as he hated being forced into something he had to admit that Wilson was right. This had been his second infarction.
He was lucky to be alive. If he wanted to stay alive he had to change his lifestyle. And he was surprised to find that he didn't mind as much as he would have thought. Of course there was a lot of bitching from his snarky brain-part. But for the first time in ages that part lost to the rational part.
And he discovered that there was yet another part of him, a part that really really wanted to be with Wilson, wanted to be happy and have a future...
His emotions must have played on his face, because Wilson's expression relaxed. He looked at House kindly. House scrunched up his face and gave Wilson the answer he wanted to hear.
„Alright, I'll try..." Wilson opened his mouth in protest. „...I'll do it. Everything you said. But you'll have to help me and I might be a pain in the ass sometimes."
Wilson's protest turned into a smile. „You've always been a pain in the ass. I can deal with that. What I can't deal with is losing you. - I love you."
„Love you too... Now come over here!"
