Don't own, don't sue. Not written or meant as a slash, but as a HouseWilson best FRIENDSHIP. Sorry if this one isn't good, I try.
Wilson fell forward, an invisible string tied between him and his best friend. House was
…free falling…
tumbling backwards, his face was twisted in pain as blood exploded from his chest and rained around him. House kept falling, falling through the floor and pulling Wilson along with him. One moment Wilson was staring into House's face; the next the floor rippled and House passed through, taking it along with him.
Wilson's eyes widened; he was
…dying…
falling behind House, what had been the carpet was now stained crimson as it fluttered silken around
…the rock…
House as he pulled it down. They were in a world of black, Wilson and House cascaded through the liquid air.
Soon the satin began to cover the body, wrapping
…death…
itself around limp arms and legs. Wilson pulled forward and reached. This sheet would not take his
…lifeline…
friend from him!
He called, trying to get his voice through the cloth. Finally blue eyes cracked opened, having heard the cry. They stood out, electric against the deep red surrounding them. Almost seeming to understand, a limp arm broke from the red pool and reached out with limp, graceful fingers.
Wilson stretched his own hand out, grasping for the long fingers but only the edge of the
…death angel…
sheet brushed past him, taunting him, laughing at his pathetic attempt for House's redemption. The man has ruined his own life and Wilson's, let him fall, what would a second chance do for him? Wilson shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts the satin had wrapped around his mind. He narrowed his brown eyes, focusing on grabbing the hand before the
…demons…
satin could claim it again. He stretched as far as his arm would let him, swinging his arm to House. His failed attempts were answered with a cruel flick of the sheet corner; the sheet winding itself around House's stiff arm, climbing still to the hand. He extended his arm again, going farther than he knew he ever could. Cold fingers finally clasped in his own, he began to pull.
Wilson flinched back when
…death…
a sickly cold sensation slithered onto his hand and began to coil around him. Frustrated tears sprung to his eyes as he screamed angrily, red bubbles bursting from his mouth.
He kicked his legs, his body surging forward and crashing into the satin death sheet. This time the satin covered him, enveloping him in its consciousness. A dreadful peace filled Wilson, comforting him and relaxing him; taking his mind off House and closing his eyes. The silk caressed his cheek, rolling over his body and wrapping in itself.
Wilson laid there, lost to
...himself...
the tempest for what seemed like eternity.
Comfort was shattered; a bright white light tore through his closed eyes, reminding him of his
...dying...
trapped friend. He kicked angrily at the silk, tearing himself away from it and ripping the fabric. Every slit, every handprint in the silk bleached it white. Finally he was able to tear the demon off him, white shreds floating in circles like vultures. He turned only to find House still enclosed in the remaining
…sins…
folds, irises hidden behind closed eyes.
Again Wilson kicked forward, grabbing onto the silk. Again the silk beckoned him into comfort, daring him to resist. Grabbing fistfuls of the cloth, he began ripping handfuls away
...Vicodin, Vogler, Tritter, past life...
; altering them to colorful feathers that mingled into a surrounding mosaic.
The last fistful was torn away, House now free floating in the downy rain of colored feathers. Wilson kicked his way beside the limp man through the
…spirits…
blues, greens, whites, and countless other colors. The mosaic disturbed; it began swirling, picking up pace and flying in different directions. Wilson moved closer and began to try and rouse his friend. House lay peacefully, his head rolled back and showing no signs of life. Wilson called House's name, bubbles filled with
…life…
light forming with every word. Wilson shook House's shoulders desperately and began screaming, trying to get his voice heard.
Icy blue eyes blinked open as his mouth began moving, breathing out his own
...heart...
words, calling back to his
...guardian angel...
best friend and reassuring him. Wilson broke into a smile as the shreds began to quicken their dance, swirling in a colorful rainbow. One by one they began changing red and blue, red and blue, flashing rhythmically against each other and overcoming
...death...
the blackness. All at once, the colors rushed together, stricking the two men in limbo and bringing them back to consciousness.
"...passenger... head injury... concussion... driver doesn't...good...steering wheel... chest.."
Wilson opened his eyes, immediately regretting it. Blue and red lights of policemen and ambulances flashed, pounding into his forehead. Around him he heard voices as he felt himself being lifted and then rolled into one of the awaiting ambulances.
"Sir? Can you tell me who you are?" a female voice penetrated through the rest, obviously talking to him.
"James Wilson... how's..." he trailed off; it hurt his head just talking.
"Your friend is doing alright. He's in the other ambulance. Can you tell me what happened?" This woman wouldn't shut up!
He shook his head and closed his eyes. He didn't want to tell her that he and House went out and had a few more drinks than they should have. She would find that out herself. Now he just wanted to...
So... sorry to leave the story like that. But you will live, I'm sure of it.