Fic: Left You Lonely, Set You Free

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine! The title comes from the song "In the Gloaming," by Anne F. Harrison

NOTE: I can't help it--all my stories end up really depressing! I hope you enjoy. Reviews always appreciated.

Forman looked at Chase, "Should we wait?"

"She isn't coming,"

"Maybe she got caught in traffic," Forman said. He wanted to pick a small argument just to stall the time. He wanted her to come.

"She isn't coming," Chase repeated slowly. He stole a glance at his watch, "It's 10. It's getting late."

"Fine. I still think she is going to come, though," Forman said stubbornly, holding the door open for Chase.

"She hasn't gotten out of bed since this afternoon. But I'll let her know you're thinking of her," Chase said, clasping Forman's shoulder briefly.

They stood in front of the desk. It looked so plain and so unassuming. Neither of them moved to open the drawers.

Cuddy had taken the paperwork mess from the top and given it to some other doctor. The insides of it were untouched, though. It was left specifically for the three of them.

Forman gave Chase a small nod, and he opened the first drawer. They took out the pens, pencils, receipts, half-eaten Snickers bar, six pennies, two dimes, and tic-tacs. They created a small pile in the center of the desk.

"What do we do with it?" Forman asked.

Chase picked up a couple of the pens. They were plain, blue ballpoint pens. "I'm going to take these," he said slipping them into his coat pocket.

"Need pens?" Forman asked.

"No, I would rather have them than whoever is getting this office next," Chase said defensively.

Foreman was silent for a moment, "Why did you have to say that?"

"What did I say?" Chase asked.

"Now we're going to keep every piece of garbage left in this desk," Forman sighed.

"It's just a couple of pens," Chase said.

"But I don't want anything left behind for the next person, either," Forman said.

"We'll throw out the receipts and keep the concrete objects, ok?" Chase said, taking a handful of paper.

"But if he wanted this stuff thrown out, he would have done it himself," Forman said.

"You're being irrational." A tired voice came from the doorway.

Wilson was standing in front of them, still wearing his suit from the funeral. His tie was loosened and his hair disheveled.

The two younger men remained silent.

Wilson handed Chase a box, "Just put everything in here for now and we'll decide later what to do with it all, ok?"

Chase and Forman nodded and began clearing each drawer, throwing out as little as possible. They worked slowly and only broke the silence every once in a while.

Wilson sat across from them and helped, although he seemed to become more absorbed in his thoughts than either of them. He would take each item and stare at it as though he was trying to picture House using it, how long ago he might have used it, and why he had bothered to keep it.

Cameron walked in around midnight. She was still wearing her black dress, but the stockings were gone and the high heels replaced by sneakers. She sat silently next to Wilson, but didn't move to help.

"Last stack," Forman said, splitting up the pile of papers from the bottom drawer.

Chase was the one who found it. It was written on a yellow piece of legal paper in dark pencil.

Chase's voice cracked, "I hate to ask this, but did he have a will?" He looked directly at Wilson, whose eyes became large.

Wilson cleared his throat a little, "No, actually, he didn't."

"I think I found it," Chase said, holding the yellow piece of paper up so they could see.

TBC