Disclaimer: Don't own X-Files nor House.
Author's Note: This started off coming from a very dark place. And went on from there. I have this new thing going on where I'm really into smashing fandoms together.
I. And it'd play on loop, whether noble or desperate, what he sacrificed for you.
He traveled with you when the world was no longer your own.
It didn't seem real at first, but there wasn't much time to dwell on it and try to understand. Before you knew it, people were dying left and right. You wanted to help because that's who you were. But then you were no longer that person. You couldn't be.
When you were outside, you were in hell. Buildings were destroyed and the sky was only smoke. The air hurt to breathe and the pavement was hot. You were surprised he kept up with you. You were surprised he didn't talk much.
Chaos was everywhere and lived in many people. There was a brief window of time when the radios and televisions produced messages from those in power, telling the public what to do. But radio waves ceased and television networks went off. They were the first to go.
There was no communication, which meant there really wasn't any knowledge of where to go or what to do. If you were lucky, they'd spare you. They'd walk right past you and kill another. However, it settled in quickly that your time would come soon. Soon enough, you would be the one they killed while sparing another.
You glanced over at him, wondering if that's why he was at your side. Perhaps he wanted to try and save himself. They would see you both and kill you, not him. Why would they spare the stronger, younger, and more physically fit one of the pair?
Even if that was the case, you aren't going to leave him. Somehow, you need him beside you, the only thing you can cling to. You don't know what happened to James and your hospital is gone. You're here with House and you'll take what you can get.
As you walk down the cracked and broken road, you try to look past the destruction and death. Out of sight, out of mind doesn't quite work so well when you're stepping in blood and hearing cries of the people you'd die trying to save. So you watch the smoke form shapes above your head and pray that there may be some peace.
"We should rest."
It was the first words he spoke in days. You nod, not feeling like talking yourself. He heads from the road and you follow him. The scorched grass crunches beneath your shoes.
House leads you to a partially demolished home. The back of it is completely caved in while the front has bowling ball size holes in it. He crouches to the ground and you notice how his face changes with his pain.
The porch of the house is still intact and he kicks a hole into the wooden fence that was suppose to keep creatures from making a home underneath it. He crawls under and you kneel down onto the scratchy burnt grass.
The earth is warm and you crawl under the porch, dirtying your clothes even more. You stop when your hand hits House. You lie on your back beside him and run your hand over the dirt until you find his hand.
He lets his hand remain limp and you push your fingers between his. You're tired and thirsty. Hunger was forgotten two days ago. Sleeping is a scary notion because you can't defend yourself in restless dreams. But not sleeping means exhaustion and you know you can't run in that state.
You close your eyes and hold onto House's hand tighter. He presses his fingers against the back of your hand.
The sound of an explosion jolts you awake and suddenly you're lying on your back once more and your forehead is bleeding.
"Shit," you curse, covering the wound with your hand.
You forgot where you were and your skin split right open when it came in contact with the underside of the porch. House stirs beside you, sitting up partially on his side.
"Let me see."
Your right eye is closed to keep the blood from going in it. House's hand is on yours, prying it away. This only causes more of the liquid to escape and you whimper. He places your hand back on the cut.
"Keep the pressure."
Fabric's being torn and you can't see him because he's on your right. He pulls your hand back and quickly wraps the fabric around your head before tying it tightly.
"Ow."
Your cut burns and you're not even sure his makeshift bandage will help. He wipes the blood from your face with his shirt. You touch the bandage to find it's already quite wet from your blood.
"The explosion wasn't too far away," he says. "We should get moving."
Turning onto your stomach, you raise yourself onto your hands and knees. You crawl to the hole House kicked in the previous night and crawl out into the morning.
It's grey everywhere you look. The sun hasn't been seen for days. The world is one shade during the day. At night, it goes black.
Once House is beside you, you notice his shirt is ripped along the bottom and stained with your blood. You're both pretty dirty and already stained with blood, most of which is not your own.
"Come on."
He heads for the road with his walking stick. You keep up at his side and remain silent. The blood is trickling down your face and you swipe it away with the back of your hand.
A loud bang sounds from behind you. There's nothing but smoke as far as you can tell, but that noise was familiar and you take off running.
House keeps up as best as he can, which still remains a mystery to you on how he manages. You guess it must be the adrenaline and survival mode. Somehow that's turned into a pretty strong cocktail for him.
There's a brick building up ahead with the windows blown out. You hurry to find a door, hoping there are places to hide inside. House catches up to you, breathing heavily and clutching his thigh.
You pull at a metal door and it scrapes the cement beneath it. Two more tugs gets it open and you slip inside with House behind you.
The inside is destroyed and partially burnt. There's another loud bang outside and you jump. The voices falling through the windows cause your heart to pound in your chest.
"Hey."
Coming back into reality, your eyes find House. He's standing in front of a closet with its door scorched. You run over to him and you both get inside. He slides the door shut just as the metal door of the building is blown off.
His hand covers your mouth, stopping your involuntary cry of fear. You try to regulate your breathing through your nose, wanting to remain as quiet as possible. Your tears fall onto House's hand and you're shaking beneath him.
You hear them out there, throwing and kicking debris. They know you're here and they're not going to leave until they find you.
"I'll go," he whispers in your ear and you shake your head. "Kill me, spare you."
He removes his hand from your mouth and gently steps beside you. You look up at him, about to protest, when his lips press down against yours. You want to keep kissing him to keep him there, but he pulls away and steps from the closet.
The gunshots make your freeze and your breath hitches in your throat. Your tears fall fast and quick. You cover your mouth yourself this time to muffle any sound.
When the door opens, there are three men with their guns pointed at you. You know this is it, they aren't going to spare you. This is your time and the only thing you can think is how much you wish you weren't crying.
One of the men reaches for you and yanks you out of the closet. You trip over House's legs and almost fall. The man's holding you up and pulls you toward the open doorway, the other men following you.
You glance back toward the closet, to House's body. Blood's pooling around him and you're sure you're going to be sick. As you step outside, your stomach lurches and you're dry heaving. The man beside you doesn't seem to notice or just doesn't care and he continues to pull you along.
The world's suddenly growing too bright and you feel you might pass out. You're coughing violently and then there's darkness.