As people will in even the hardest situations, House and Wilson formed a kind of routine in the days that followed. House would get out of the apartment early in the morning but return before lunch. Wilson, as was his habit, found himself cooking, even if he wasn't able to eat much these days. House, of course, enjoyed Wilson's food as much as ever.
A strange thing began to happen, however, as the days passed, or maybe not so strange. House and Wilson began to appreciate each other's tastes and preferences in a way they hadn't before. Wilson found himself immersed in House's TIVO'd soaps and dramas; he found himself listening to the Rolling Stones and Eric Clapton and loving them. House, by the same token, found himself picking up Wilson's novels and books of poetry with a newfound and unexpected interest.
It was about a week after Wilson arrived at 221B that he had one of his really bad days. He hadn't kept anything down for more than 12 hours and as a result had one of the I.V.'s House had brought taped to his forearm. House had covered Wilson with one of his comfortable cotton sheets and was simply watching him from the piano bench of his baby grand. He felt quite helpless, but was hoping that his friend would soon fall asleep. Wilson's eyes were indeed drifting closed but House heard his quiet voice from the couch suddenly.
"Are you just going to sit there or are you going to play?" Wilson said sleepily.
"What?" House said, startled.
"Play something," Wilson repeated.
"Are you kidding? You need to sleep," House protested.
"I'll be able to with something to focus on," Wilson said, his eyes still closed.
House could not fathom why Wilson would want anything except silence, but he would nevertheless oblige. Turning on the bench to face the piano he felt the familiar keys underneath his fingers and paused for several long moments, wondering what to play. Suddenly, unconsciously, his fingers began moving over the keys, the familiar chords resounding through the small space.
From the numerous albums of House's Wilson had listened to he recognized the song instantly and his mind simply fell into the melody. There were no words sung, of course, but in Wilson's mind he heard the lyrics perfectly. He allowed the words to envelop him along with the chords of the piano.
When you're down and troubled
And you need a helping hand
And nothing, oh nothing is going right,
Close your eyes and think of me
And soon I will be there
To brighten up even your darkest nights
You just call out my name,
And you know wherever I am
I'll come running,
To see you again
Winter, spring, summer, or fall,
All you've got to do is call
And I'll be there, yeah, yeah, yeah
You've got a friend
If the sky above you
Should turn dark and full of clouds
And that old north wind should begin to blow
Keep your head together and call my name out loud
And soon I will be knocking upon your door
You just call out my name and you know wherever I am
I'll come running to see you again
Winter, spring, summer or fall,
All you've got to do is call
And I'll be there, yeah, yeah, yeah
Hey, ain't it good to know that you've got a friend?
When people can be so cold
They'll hurt you and desert you,
They'll take your soul if you let them
Oh, but don't you let them
You just call out my name and you know wherever I am
I'll come running to see you again
Winter, spring, summer or fall,
All you've got to do is call,
And I'll be there, yes I will
You've got a friend
As the final chords of the song died away House looked over at his best friend. He had finally fallen asleep, but there was serenity on his face, and the ghost of a smile.
A/N: OK, so this scene has been in my head for weeks now and I just couldn't wait to put it up... :) I hope you all like it...
I have to let you guys in on the inspiration for this. Forgive me for the length of this note...
The show House M.D., as some of you may know, is based structurally on A.C. Doyle's infamous detective Sherlock Holmes (221B Baker Street is Holmes's address, BTW, which is why the writers on the show chose it). I've read most of the stories involving Holmes and when I started this peice I started reading some Holmes again. I came across a wonderful passage in a Holmes novel called "The Sign of Four". In it, Watson (who Wilson is the analog of in House) has been up for a long time helping Holmes with a case. He is exhausted and Holmes recognizes this...
"Look here, Watson; you look regularly done. Lie down there on the sofa and see if I can put you to sleep."
He took up his violin from the corner, and as I stretched myself out he began to play some low, dreamy, melodious air-his own, no doubt, for he had a remarkable gift for improvisation. I have a vague remembrance of his gaunt limbs, his earnest face and the rise and fall of his bow. Then I seemed to be floated peacefully away upon a soft sea of sound until I found myself in dreamland...
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The Sign of Four
As I read this the two of them, Holmes and Watson, transformed themselves into House and Wilson in my mind and I knew I'd found something. My mind raced and I remembered that House loved music, of course, and could play the piano. Instantly I had an image in my mind of Wilson after a particularly hard day in his cancer battle asking House to play something on the piano.
I went to my C.D. collection and pored through my Beatles albums. In my mind I agonized over the right song and considered several, including "With a Little Help from my Friends" (Beatles) and "Bridge Over Troubled Waters" (Simon and Garfunkel). All the songs I listened to were wonderful, but they weren't quite right. Finally I remembered this song sung by James Taylor and pulled it up on YouTube. As I listened to the music and lyrics I knew it was perfect. If any of you haven't heard it, listen to it if you get the chance.
Anyway, to give credit where it's due, A.C. Doyle and James Taylor set this scene in motion, I just happened to find them at the right time... :)
Oh, and I won't hold it against anyone who now finds me completely nuts... :P :D