He holds him underwater in the big Jewish Community Center pool, until his lungs burn to a crisp and sparks from an oxygen-starved brain trace comet paths against his closed eyelids.
It's not until Jimmy manages to get a hand loose somehow, grabs a fistful of David's crotch, and twists that his brother lets go.
Jimmy shoots to the surface, gasping in the chlorine-scented air as he struggles for breath.
David watches him, criticizing with his steady gaze. "Almost waited too long, kid," he says. "Should've gone for my nuts sooner."
The pale blue shimmer of the pool water is reflected in David's eyes.
vvvvvvvv
The memory of this moment comes back to Wilson now, as piece by piece his life is taken from him.
When he finally visits Tritter it's not a life preserver the detective throws. Wilson realizes House will regard this as a betrayal, a Judas kiss, and though House may in the future (distant future) say he forgives him, he knows he never really will.
Wilson ties the lead weights to his own ankles and signs the evidentiary statement Tritter places before him.
Christmas Eve, when Wilson finds House on the floor of his apartment, an ugly puddle of Oxycodone-laced vomit next to his head, is the worst night of Wilson's life. Worse than the first time he got dumped by a girl. Worse than the first time he got dumped by a boy. Worse than the night his brother disappeared. Worse than seeing his parents weep the night his brother disappeared.
Should've done something sooner, he thinks. If only the road to Hell weren't so well paved ...
House isn't going to die, but it's clear he's beyond Wilson's help.
vvvvvvvv
That night, alone in the hotel bed, Wilson dreams.
He's thirteen again, and the JCC pool is cool and inviting.
House is down there, bobbing and dog-paddling, and when he looks up and sees Wilson there's a familiar blue shimmer in his eyes.
"Come on in," he calls. "The water's fine!"
fin