May 6
"You're dying," House announced.
"What?" the old woman wheezed, clutching at her oxygen mask. "I can't be."
"There's nothing we can do. The disease is too advanced. You have anywhere from eight to ten hours before your organs fail completely. I can put you on a morphine drip to ease the pain."
"But...but...this can't be true," she stammered. "I had a flash-forward. I saw myself, I was with my grandchildren. I was taking them to the park."
"I had a flash-forward, too. That doesn't mean that it's going to come true."
The woman sat in her bed and stared straight at the wall. "I don't believe this."
"I'm sorry," House said shortly.
She looked up at him, her eyes pleading. "You're positive about this? There's no way I'm going to make it?"
House shook his head. "Your liver and kidneys suffered too much damage. We've notified your next of kin, and hopefully you'll have a chance to see them before..." House trailed off. "Is there anything else I can do?" he asked her. Not that he usually cared that much about what he could do for patients other than figure out what was wrong with them. But the woman looked so stunned to hear she would be dead before the end of the day, and he felt that he'd failed her somehow, even though once he found the source of the problem he knew there was no hope of recovery.
The woman looked at him. No, she studied him. "Sit a moment," she requested, gesturing at the chair beside her bed.
The more time he wasted in here, the longer he could put off doing his clinic hours. House sat down. She continued to look at him. "You have remarkably blue eyes."
"Okay, when I asked if there was anything else I could do, I-"
She chuckled and shook her head. "Tell me. You said you were certain your flash-forward wouldn't come true. What makes you think that? What did you see?"
House hesitated and looked away. He hadn't told anyone the truth, except Thirteen, and he'd made sure to first lead her to believe he was lying.
"It's all right," she said, smiling. "I'm not going to tell anyone. If your secret's safe with anyone, it's me."
The words jogged House's memory. The last time he'd confided in a dying person, it had helped. Maybe he should make a habit out of it.
"Okay," he agreed, looking at her. "I was kissing my best friend."
"Why, that's a lovely flash-forward," she exclaimed. "What's her name?"
"It's a him, not a her. And his name's Wilson. Well...James."
"Oh, I see," the woman said, nodding. "And the two of you aren't..."
"We're not gay," House insisted. He leaned back in his chair. "At least, until a month ago I didn't think we were."
"Well from the sound of it, your feelings of friendship have grown into something more."
"It's stupid," House insisted. "The man's been married three times and has had more girlfriends than I've had birthdays-"
"-And clearly he still isn't satisfied. Because perhaps what he's looking for, he hasn't found yet. He hasn't realized that it's actually been right in front of him the whole time."
House stared at the old woman. She held the oxygen mask up to her face and smiled at him through it.
"I'm guessing you care for him very much. Maybe more than you let on."
"He knows I care about him," House said bluntly.
"But he clearly doesn't know you're in love with him, or you'd already be together."
"I'm not in love with him. And even if I were, it wouldn't matter. He's seeing someone. He's always seeing someone. No matter what I do about it, he's always seeing someone." He didn't try to hide the bitterness in his voice. It was no secret how he felt about all of Wilson's girlfriends.
"Well maybe if you told him how you felt," the woman suggested, taking a deep breath, "he wouldn't feel the need to see other people. Maybe your flash-forward is showing you--both of you, that you could have the opportunity for something more. If you just go for it."
House looked at her for a moment. "You're an idiot," he said finally, getting up and leaving.
A/N: I know it's short, I'm sorry. To make it up to you, I'll post chapter 8 after only two days instead of my usual three.