003. Ends
Sudden Stop
All things eventually came to an end. Wilson knew this, he was an oncologist and it was a truth he faced everyday. But nothing could prepare you for the death of someone you loved. He knew that too. He saw it everyday. You thought you prepared yourself well but in the end it always, always, knocked you for six.
He crouched down next to the headstone and ran his fingers down the writing carved into the stone.
Gregory House
6.11.1959-5.20.2008
Healer. Friend. Lover. Son.
He'd always known House would probably die before him. The moment House started mixing alcohol with his Vicodin, the moment he started taking too many pills, Wilson had known that fact. But he'd always expected it would be liver failure or, after House bought the motorcycle, an accident. Once or twice when he'd seen House at his worst, he briefly wondered whether House might one day take his own life.
It was one of the reasons he'd finally taken a chance. After Julie's divorce, after House got shot, it seemed stupid to waste anymore time. When he'd made his move, House had given him this knowing smirk that seemed to say 'what took you so long?'
In the end it had been a stroke that had killed him. Another damn infarction. This one more deadly than the last. House had simply dropped where he'd been standing in front of the whiteboard in the conference room, haranguing his ducklings. He'd been dead before he hit the floor; it had been that sudden and that quick. No chance to save his life, no chance to say goodbye.
Wilson stroked the carved letters again. Oddly enough it had been Foreman who had taken it the hardest. Wilson had never asked him why, honestly hadn't cared at the time. Maybe it was because it had been stroke. Maybe Foreman was wondering what he'd missed, some sign that all wasn't well in House's world, he was a neurologist after all. If he'd known how to find the words, Wilson would have told Foreman to stop beating himself up about it. Strokes could just happen without warning. There were no signs – Wilson would have noticed.
He stroked the words one last time and slowly stood. He looked down at the grave and sighed.
"I miss you," he said quietly before turning and walking away.