Warped & Wicked Productions Present – "House's Heart" Season 6 Finale
Summary: Deliberately deceptive character death. You won't know if you should laugh or cry over this one until you read it through to the end. Set in the future - season 6. Comes with money back guarantee.
Characters: House Wilson Cuddy friendship
Warnings: It's a nut job of a story.
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: Anyone who reads this story will know I'm no threat to David Shore or House MD, but for the record, don't own 'em, and never will.
A/N: My most enthusiastic thanks to bookfan85 for her sharp eyes willingness to beta this story, however due to my obsessive need to tweak I'm indeed responsible for any and all errors. Please R&R. Concrit welcome.
Wilson walked into House's office and dropped into the chair with all the weight of the world pressing down on him. He tossed the folder in front of House, pointing to it in invitation.
House picked it up, and removed the film from its protective cover, "It's what we suspected."
Wilson's voice cracked, "Small cell lung cancer, and its metastasized."
The two men looked at each other as if they were playing a hand of high stakes poker.
One man cleared his throat during the lengthy silence, and then chose to speak.
"I'll order a hospital bed from the medical supply house, IV, any additional equipment, home care, and round-the-clock nursing as needed."
"It's not necessary."
"Comfort is necessary. That's all we're dealing with now."
Silence
"So, do I say thank you and give you 10?"
"Witty. More to the point, who will tell Cuddy?"
"God, a slow and painful death without drugs would be easier."
"Nurse! . . . Can't you see the patient is agitated and in pain?! Up the medication."
"I'm sorry, it's the prescribed amount. Anymore would be an overdo . . ."
"The patient is terminal. Do it now."
The nurse looked back and forth between the doctor struggling for breath, and the one standing next to her.
The doctor beside her swept his hand across his forehead, "Do it."
The nurse checked the lines and filled the syringe, emptying it into the solution.
The fingers of one doctor stretched out and held the hand of the other.
"Wilson."
"House."
Slowly, the drip took affect. The fire was quenched. The restless limbs calmed. The eyes peaceful.
Cuddy started her day in her office by checking her phone messages. It was the fifth one that wrung her heart.
"I'm calling time of death, 5:22 AM."
She grabbed her purse, slipped on the jacket draped over her chair, and headed out of the hospital.
Cuddy knocked at House's door. The nurse answered and let her in. "He's in the bedroom."
Taking the hand of the nurse in both of hers, "Thanks Jill, I know it wasn't easy. You knew them both."
She hurried to the bedroom. The hospital bed that cradled the body of her dear friend dominated the room. She walked over and touched his cheek. She then kissed his forehead and whispered farewell. She silenced the bureaucrat within her, and thought with her heart. She didn't want to know how much morphine was administered to cause his features to reflect such peace and tranquility.
Her eyes filled with tears as she walked toward the doctor sitting on the the other bed that was pushed against the wall for the makeshift hospital renovation.
His head was bowed, and at first she didn't see his wet eyes, or the remainder of tears staining his shirt. She sat down along side him, enfolded him in her arms, rubbed soothing circles over his back, and comforted him the best way she knew how.
Eventually he spoke, "I feel like I lost a part of me."
Tears ran down Cuddy's face as she responded to the shattered soul before her, "Me too, House, we both lost the part of our hearts that was reserved for Wilson."
Music. Fade to black
"Cut! That's a wrap people! Great job everyone! I can smell Emmys in your future!"
There's a smattering of applause from the crew.
AP's rush to disconnect Hugh, Lisa and Bob from their microphones.
One of the producers walks over to Bob as he shrugs on a robe, takes a tissue from an assistant, thanks her, and begins wiping the theatrical pallor from his skin. "You know Bobby, you're going to be missed around here. If you want to stay we can turn this into a dream episode, even if it would piss off some of the fans."
"Sorry, no thanks, Bryan. Broadway beckons. I made a bundle, and if I don't get back soon, I'll be missing out on the middle-age parts, and have to settle for old geezer character studies. Hey, I'm pleased the show is still going strong. I'll keep in touch."
"Maybe Doris and the writers can work you into next season's Christmas show, as the ghost of Hanukah Past."
Laughing, Bob slaps the director on the back, and heads toward Hugh and Lisa for more farewell hugs and Hollywood kisses.
And seriously,
Th-Tha-That's All Folks!