Title – Tunnel Vision
Fandom – House MD
Summary – House / Wilson. Wilson's POV – reflects on events. Spoilers for season 3 and guess work for future episodes.
He's been suffering from tunnel vision.
Surrounded by the silence of his hotel room he finds it easy to make the diagnosis. No distractions here to help him hide from the truth. And he knows the root cause: Tritter. House was right about that. But the cure…
Tritter, he acknowledges, is a clever man, practised at reading people. It hadn't taken the detective long to discover the invisible threads that connected him and House. Sometimes those threads were pliable and relaxed, other times taught with tension. But they were what held his friendship with House together. Irrevocably.
Or so he'd thought.
The forged prescriptions had looked so innocent when Tritter had first produced them but with hindsight they'd inflicted the most damage. Strands of friendship had snapped, the whiplash hitting him like a physical blow. He'd stuttered out a lie to cover it but his body had smarted from the pain. He'd failed: House was slipping away from him. The Vicodin was going to win. And he couldn't, he just couldn't, let that happen.
He'd always enjoyed playing hookey with House; watching soaps instead of working clinic hours, playing desk volleyball instead of filling out paperwork and charts. He'd understood the rules of the game they played. But suddenly the rules had changed and it wasn't a game any longer.
He hadn't thought twice about leaving to go to Atlantic City. Sitting in the back of his car he was focused only on the man in front of him. In his mind's eye he could see the remaining threads beginning to slip out of his fingers. Desperate to hold on he'd listened to every word his friend uttered, analysed every nuance of his voice, looking for a way to repair the damage.
Tunnel vision.
Sitting in the corridor at Atlantic City he thought he'd knotted together the remaining threads. He hadn't expected House to untie them again or dismiss the rules of their game with callous disregard. This time he'd been braced for the pain as the threads snapped free but he'd still struggled to keep it out of his voice.
He'd failed. Too focused on his need to help his friend, he'd lost sight of the bigger picture.
Sitting in his empty hotel room with no one else to save, he's finally taken the time to look around him. There's still a way he can cure this situation, can cure House – he understands that now. But he'll need help. And he knows House won't understand.
Rubbing his hands tiredly across his face he slumps down on the bed, the threads of friendship hanging down listlessly around him.
He's found a cure. But it still feels like he's failed.
The end