005. Last
Last Chance
It was eleven o'clock in the morning and James Wilson was doing some of the interminable paperwork that always seemed to end up on his desk when the phone call from Lisa Cuddy came.
"Have you seen Dr House?" she asked without preamble and Wilson frowned slightly.
"Last time I saw him was last night. Why?"
"He hasn't come in yet today."
"That's…unusual. He hasn't called?"
"Would I be calling you if he had?" Cuddy replied rather tartly.
"Oh, of course," Wilson replied a little abashed. "I'll…go and find him."
"Thank you," came the brisk answer before Cuddy hung up the phone.
The trip to House's apartment didn't take long and soon Wilson was ringing the doorbell. When that proved unsuccessful, he banged on the door and called House's name. When that didn't elicit a response, he pulled his keys out of his pocket and selected the one that opened the door in front of him.
When he walked in the first thing that struck him was the figure of House lying slumped over the keyboard of the piano.
"House?" he said with almost stupid hesitancy. "Greg?"
He made his suddenly heavy feet carry him over to the piano and reached out with a shaking hand to touch the back of House's neck. It was cold and his hand almost automatically slipped around to feel for the carotid artery. Nothing. No pulse.
This was when he noticed three things. First was the bottle of Vicodin he'd given his friend yesterday that was sitting on top of the piano. It was empty. The second was the bottle of very expensive scotch he'd bought for his friend for his last birthday that was sitting next to the pill bottle. It too was empty. The third was a single piece of paper that was resting next to the two bottles.
Wilson reached out with his shaking hand and picked up the piece of paper.
It hurts, James. I can't do this anymore.
Love,
Greg
Wilson stared down at the second last word and his thoughts inexorably turned to the previous night. He knew the note did not solely refer to House's leg. It had been there again, lying between them, tacitly acknowledged but never spoken of. He'd seen it smothered in House's eyes then seen it flare along with hope when he'd spoken of Julie's leaving and his now-pending divorce. But he'd ignored it blithely and watched as the hope died and the love was hidden once again.
His eyes stuttered over to the slumped body of his friend.
"You should have told me it was my last chance," he murmured in the still silence as the piece of paper fell from his fingers and drifted to the floor. "I wouldn't have let it slip."