020. Acceptance
We All Need Comfort, We All Give Comfort
Wilson rested his elbows on his desk and buried his face in his hands, wondering not for the first time why he'd chosen to go into oncology. He scrubbed his face and swallowed the tears that were threatening. He shoved his chair backwards and walked out onto the balcony, propping himself on the low wall that separated his section of balcony from House's.
"That bad, huh?" came House's voice from the door to his office.
"She's twelve," Wilson said, hearing the tremor in his voice but not knowing how to hide it. "She should be laughing with her friends, discovering boys, pestering her parents for a pony or a bike or whatever it is she wants. She shouldn't be sitting in my office thanking me for hearing that she's going to be dead in three weeks. She shouldn't be so calm about it. She was comforting her parents!"
Now the tears fell and Wilson turned away and stared unseeingly out over the view, not wanting to let House see them, not wanting to hear the remarks that would be sure to come.
When the hand gently caressed his hair, he was surprised. But he wasn't going to argue with House's action. Instead he turned his face to bury it in House's shoulder, letting the tears soak into the blue shirt. The gentle stroking of his hair didn't stop and a second hand came up to rest on his shoulder, the heat comforting him. Even when the tears stopped he stayed where he was, letting the comfort seep into him, and House never once stopped his gentle caresses.