Disclaimer for the entire story: I do not own House.

Warning: Character death

Parts: 6 … possibly 7

Reviews: are love. Make my day!

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A.D.: Part II

I nodded briefly at Foreman as he made his hasty exit, though he didn't see me. As I approached House … Greg's still, lifeless body, I could feel a strange atmospheric tension in the air. Glancing over my shoulder I saw Foreman's back disappearing behind the door, though slower now, as though reluctant to leave.

"House." I looked down at him, his trusty cane by his side – one of many. He had fought so long and so hard with that cane, that leg, that now it was ironic to think that he would never need it again. What use has the dead of canes? Nevertheless, for old time's sake I had placed it in the coffin next to him. (was that for your closure, or for his?)

Some of the tension had left the air, and I brushed my fingers over the cold wood of the box reverently, trying to hear House's voice again. (voices from the depths of the earth are welcome here.) 'You know that if you're wrong about the big picture, you'll burn, don't you? I had once said to him. Now, my words echoed (in the space, in the miles) in the eternity between us, and I could feel tears welling in my eyes. He had hated fire for the greater (bitterer) part of his life. On the day Stacy had left there had been a fire burning in the grate. On the day when his rat had died there had been a fire burning in the grate. (On each day when every one of your wives left there had been a fire burning in the grate. Was it his hatred of fire or was it yours?)

And yet, still, inexplicably there was hope. After all, why else would he have requested a church service? Perhaps there had been more going on in House's life than I had thought. (Or perhaps it was a dying man's last grasp at the last thin straw of hope)

"I'll look after Steve." I told House, dragging myself away from my thoughts with an effort that he would have mocked me for. "I'll look after Steve … and your Corvette." I grin slightly at the thought of his horror, but the grin is quickly vanquished when I realise that I will never see his varying expressions again.

"We had good times together, didn't we?" I reflected quietly, looking down at his blank face and trying not to (grin, laugh, weep) cry. It was ironic that a man who expressed so much (and so little) through his facial expressions would be condemned to such a blank, empty face in death. I had seen many of those expressions so many times … and most had been directed at me. We had known each other for so long, and rarer yet for House, been friends for so long. Our friendship was warped and screwed, but it held the faintest touch of reality that I believed kept House alive for so long. Everything else wasn't reality – it was tapered to fit his fantasy.

His nightmare.

I remembered warning Dr. Cameron not to break his heart once oh so long ago. She didn't have the time to – he didn't give her the time to. But somehow, inexplicably, on that date of theirs (so different from their non-date) she did break his heart. Not on purpose – I doubt Dr. Cameron could break anyone's heart intentionally – but something she said, something he said broke his heart. And now as I gazed down at House's silent, guarded face, I realised what had happened. Why he had been so vague. Why she had been so vague.

He hadn't wanted to hurt her.

"You're an idiot, House." I told him firmly, shaking those pesky tears away. "You wouldn't have hurt her if you tried not to." (Maybe he would have, who knows?) I glare down at him with what strength I can muster, then look away, tired. It's useless being angry with the dead. (What deeds have passed is past)

He lay there, unmoving and silent, and perhaps that was what killed me the most. The sudden realisation that he would never move again. That he would never sit in his lounge and eat Chinese takeaway and grumble about Dr, Chase's latest screw-up and Dr. Foreman's inability to accept his leadership. But secretly, I knew he was proud of them. Very secretly. Why else would he have kept them for so long? Renewed their fellowships? Not fired Chase after Vogler had left? Convinced Foreman not to leave? Asked Cameron back?

I wondered dimly what the team would do now without House as their leader. Would they stay or would they be foolish enough to leave? And suddenly, I see. House had been preparing them for this day all along. He knew he wasn't invincible, no matter what he seemed to think. He knew he wasn't completely infallible. He knew that he wasn't going to last forever. He would have wanted them to stay together. Each of them had learned so much from each other and given so much back. Heck, they had even taught House a thing or two. (A heck of a lot) They would be foolish to leave, and Dr. Cuddy would be stupid to let them leave. They were House's legacy, his last will and testament.

They were the only ones he trusted to leave behind.

"Nice, House." I whispered, swiping at my tears quickly. "Nice."

And what of me? What was I to him?

I looked at his peaceful face, and closed my eyes. In life, I had been his friend. In death …

Who knew?

Who wanted to?

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