All the schedules had been made, all the doctor-patient conversations carried out. Wilson had also moved his essentials to House's, and House had asked Cuddy for a leave of absence, which she had readily granted. Wilson was, once again, sitting in a hospital room, except this time he was simply waiting.
He was waiting to be brought into surgery and waiting for whatever would come afterwards. Everything was ready, it seemed, except that Wilson still felt completely unprepared. With every passing second his unease and fear was building, and he wanted to simply get the surgery over with. At the same time, however, he was hoping it would never come.
A quiet but firm knock at the door sent Wilson's heart into his throat. Forcing his voice to remain steady Wilson spoke.
"Come in," he said.
House's familiar form made its way into the room. Wilson released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and his head dropped for a moment as a dizzying wave of relief washed over him. House smiled as he watched his best friend.
"Thought I was the Reaper, did you?"
Wilson smiled back.
"So to speak."
"Come on, Wilson, don't you know what Blue Oyster would have to say right now?"
Wilson stared at House, nonplussed.
House leaned on his left leg for a moment, then using his cane as his "guitar", air banded the chords to the song he was pretending to play. He finished with a flourish, looking at Wilson as if expecting applause. When Wilson simply continued staring House looked at him incredulously.
"Don't Fear the Reaper?"
Wilson laughed, applauding House's efforts and cheering like a kid at a rock concert. House gave a theatrical bow, throwing a fist into the air in triumph and bidding farewell to the imaginary crowd.
"Good night, New Jersey, we love you!"
The two men laughed for several more moments, but slowly the gravity of the situation seemed to fall between them. House sat next to Wilson's bed, looking at him closely.
"Are you ready to do this?" he asked quietly.
Wilson nodded slowly.
"As ready as I'll ever be," he said, his brown eyes betraying his fear.
"Brown is good," House said, "he knows what he's doing. And Foreman'll be there, too."
Wilson smiled sardonically.
"I suppose you've already told Foreman he's fired if anything happens to me." Wilson said.
"Of course not," House said, seemingly scandalized, "I told him I'd kill him. Possibly using medieval devices I'd have to special order, I haven't decided."
"Right," Wilson said, the smile slowly fading from his face.
"Nothing is going to happen to you," House said, putting as much confidence into his voice as he could muster.
"Can I freak out anyway?" Wilson said, his voice small and scared.
House nodded.
"Sure," he said simply.
Running his hands through his hair in agitation, Wilson growled in frustration.
"I can't stand this waiting anymore. I just want this to be over with but-"
"You don't want it to be over with, either," House finished.
Wilson nodded.
House was silent for a moment, looking at his friend. Finally he spoke in a very matter-of-fact voice.
"I know this one doctor who can make any patient feel better about what's happening to them. They're even OK with dying when he's the one who tells them."
Wilson stared at House, listening intently.
"I don't know what he would say to you right now, but I know it would be the right thing," House said, looking back into Wilson's eyes.
Wilson was stunned for a moment, caught off-guard by House's candor. His words seemed to steady Wilson and the older man's description of him reminded the younger man of all the time he had spent with his patients. He would simply talk to them, listen, and try to understand what they were going through. The part of Wilson he normally gave to his patients he would need, for the time being, to keep for himself.
"Thanks, House," he said aloud.
Before House could reply the door opened once again and this time it was an orderly making her way into the room with a gurney.
"Ready to go, Dr. Wilson?" the young woman said, smiling reassuringly.
Wilson simply nodded, allowing the orderly to help him onto the gurney.
House walked alongside the gurney as Wilson was wheeled into the surgical ward. Before he was moved beyond the double doors beyond which House was not allowed, House locked eyes with his best friend once again.
"Hey Wilson, just remember one thing," he said.
"What's that?" Wilson asked.
"They can rebuild you, they have the technology," he said, pitching his voice into a robotic monotone.
Wilson smiled.
"They will make me better than I was, stronger, faster, right?"
"You are the bionic man," House finished, smiling back as Wilson finally disappeared beyond the double doors.
House's smile faded as he stared at the doors for several long moments. Slowly he sat on the bench beside him to wait. He began tapping his cane on the floor in a sluggish, erratic rhythm. Waiting was the part he really hated.
A/N: Well I hope I hit the note I was going for, which was simply a feeling of two friends with a long history facing adversity together. It rings true for me, but I don't know if it will for anyone else. Anyway, here's where things are going to start coming to a head...the beginning of the end of the story, so to speak. :)
Don't worry, though, there's still more, but I'm definitely seeing where this is going to end. I'm going to try really hard to get this last section right...well TTYL, all, and thanks for reading!
P.S. For anyone who doesn't know, "Don't Fear the Reaper" is a classic rock song sung by a band called the Blue Oyster Cult, and the final lines between House and Wilson come from the 70's T.V. show "The Six Million Dollar Man." I fully admit, though, that I'm not totally familiar with either, but I knew enough to put the references in there...apologies to any purists, but these were before my time... :P