Summary: Wilson arrives at House's apartment to find the situation much more serious than he believed. SPOILERS for the end of Season 5. Based on episodes up through 5x22 and the previews and spoilers for episode 5x23. Takes place somewhere around or after ep 23 because he's already confessed at least part of the problem to Wilson. Wilson's POV. House/Wilson friendship.
Author's Note: I'm feeling particularly angsty and getting frustrated with waiting for the next episode to air. Also, I realize there is what seems to be a little OOCness, but I imagine that this is House at his most desperate. He and Wilson are both a little desperate at this point.
Disclaimer: House M.D. and its characters are owned by David Shore, Fox, NBC, ect. No money his being made here and no copyright infringement is intended.
Tired
By LadyKatie
After a minute of knocking with no reply I went in. I still had a key, but I only used it when I had to. These were extenuating circumstances, I told myself. I wasn't sure what he would do. The hallucinations hadn't seemed violent, but I had no way of knowing how far he would go to get rid of them. The man had enough vicodin stashed to make it all go away- plus whatever other drugs that I didn't want to know about. I no longer felt comfortable letting him out of my sight for long. I felt like he would just disappear if I did. And I couldn't lose him.
I barged in to find him sitting on the couch. The lamp was on, the TV off. There was no beer or bourbon in his hand, nor anything else to keep him entertained. I had never seen this before. He was always doing something.
"I was knocking. Why didn't you answer?"
This was also met with silence and he was starting to scare me. I walked around the couch until I could see his face.
"House?"
He looked up at me with wide eyes. There was a pain there that he rarely let anyone see. And then the realization of what was going on hit me. He was scared and that terrified me more than anything else so far. He reacted to serious matters in a variety of ways. Mostly he would get angry or sarcastic or just ignore it. When Tritter almost sent him to prison he got angry. When his dad died he tried to pretend it didn't matter. But this… To not only allow himself to fear, but to allow me to see it meant that it was more serious than any of those past events. That one look conveyed more than any number of words could have.
I didn't know what to say, so I just stared at him. He must have recognized the look of horror on my face because he looked away. I sat down.
"I don't know how to stop it," he confessed, his voice flat, empty.
"You… always figure it out eventually."
He looked at me again with those sad eyes and I thought I would break.
"Not this time."
My breath hitched. For as many times as I had reprimanded him for believing he was all-powerful, a part of me had believed it too. The idea that House may never be House again had never occurred to me. Too many times I had pictured him dead: an OD on vicodin or a motorcycle crash. I had predicted and feared that day for years. But I couldn't see him alive and not really with us. Hallucinations generally progressed into something else eventually, depending on what caused them, and I didn't want to think about where that could lead.
"Is there anything I can do?"
He noticeably flinched at the question. He wasn't one to ask for or take help, even when he really needed it. Then he looked away quickly to a spot near the fireplace and frowned. There was nothing there. It was the hallucination again. His head tilted almost imperceptibly in a nod and then he turned back to me.
"You can stay for a while."
He was actually going to let me help? How many times had I wanted him to let me in and he wouldn't? Now the fact that he was allowing it terrified me.
"Whatever you need. I'm here."
House nodded and looked back at the empty space. I was feeling awkward, knowing that he was communicating with a hallucination. And even more awkward, knowing that there was very little I could say to make anything better. I didn't figure he would say much at all. It was shocking enough that he admitted that he wanted me there. Then he surprised me.
"I'm sorry."
My eyes met his in stunned amazement before he continued.
"For everything. I'm the world's worst friend. You should have gotten out a long time ago."
"I… don't want out."
It was true. I didn't want to picture my life without House in it. He was my best friend.
"I don't want this, Wilson. I don't want… to lose my mind."
"We'll figure out how to stop it."
"What if we can't?"
"We will," I answered firmly. I wasn't letting him go without a fight.
"You won't let them… send me away."
My stomach turned at the thought of House in some institution. No, that was not going to happen and I told him that. He looked at the hallucination once more and cringed.
"What does it tell you?" I ventured. I thought maybe if I knew what it said I could get a better idea of what was causing it. He shook his head, unwilling to tell me.
"Maybe I can help."
He looked at me with scared eyes. He tried to smile, maybe to reassure me or make a joke, but it failed to be more than a grimace.
"She says that you're going to leave eventually. That I deserve to be alone."
I felt tears forming and fought them back down. I couldn't stand to see him like this. I shook my head. What was going on inside his brain that would even allow him to admit these things to me? He worked so hard for so many years to build the wall around his thoughts and feelings. Something had him scared enough now that the wall had been ripped down. Could he be right? Was he really losing it? Was everything that made House great disappearing?
"You do not deserve to be alone. And I'm not going anywhere."
"I'm so… tired."
He looked it too. "You can fight this."
"It should have been me."
Now I was confused. "What should have?"
"I should have died on that bus."
No. God, no.
"House…"
"I'm sorry it wasn't me."
"You're sorry for being alive?!"
He shrugged.
"Don't! Don't do that. I want you to be alive. If this is about Amber… House, I wish she had survived, but not at the cost of losing you. How could you think that you should have died? How could you apologize to me as if I would have wanted you to die?"
He gave me a weak smile. I knew I was being hysterical, but I couldn't help it.
"Maybe you didn't want me to die, but if you had been able to choose who lived it would have been her. And that's okay. It should be that way. But now it's different. There's no choice. I don't want to live if I'm… insane."
"You're not insane."
"You don't know that." He gestured toward the fireplace. "And she begs to differ."
"Don't pay any attention to it!"
"There's only one thing I need from you."
I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Anything."
He took a deep breath. He was scared, but decided. "I need you to promise me you won't let it go too far. If it gets too bad and I'm not… me, if I can't come back, you have to end it. I can't live like that."
My jaw dropped straight to the floor. "House… I can't. You're asking me to- to— I can't."
"You have to."
"I…"
"Wilson." I looked up at him. "I'm tired."
And I saw it, really saw it for the first time. I had tried not to see it all these years, but I knew it was there. His pain went deeper than I ever wanted to admit to. It was there and it was consuming and it had finally beaten him. If he couldn't come back from this then there was nothing left. He would just let go. "Tired" for House went beyond not sleeping. He was tired of living in pain, emotional or physical. I felt a tear escape down my cheek.
"Just fight. A little longer."
"Promise me."
I couldn't bear the thought of what he was asking. But if there really was nothing left… If everything that I loved about him was gone, then it would be the kindest thing to do. He wouldn't want to live like that anymore than if he was brain dead from some accident. I wasn't sure if I believed that the situation was that dire, but he believed it, which was enough. I found myself nodding before I knew that I had made the decision.
"Only if you fight. You have to really fight this. You have to let me help you and if you still… If it doesn't work, I'll help you."
"Thank you."
"You're my best friend, House. I'm not going to let this beat you."
He smiled sadly. "I just needed to know that there was a backup plan."
That was the last we spoke of it. He trusted me to know when the right time was, to know when he was truly gone. I wonder sometimes if I would be able to do it. Could I really help him take his life? He isn't some random, terminal patient, he's House. He's the person who matters most in my life. Then again, could I really bear to break the last promise I made to him? Hopefully I will never find out.