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Cats' Corners: the little HOUSE in the woods....
Where House is NEVER safe...
Therapy [new one-shot] 
14th-Dec-2007 10:54 am
HouWilTalk
 

THERAPY

 

Title:  Therapy

Characters:  House, Wilson

Rating:  PG

Genre:  Friendship, Angst

Summary:  House conducts an impromptu therapy session for Wilson—and ends up participating himself.

 

 

Wilson opens the door to his hotel room with a sigh of resignation.  He’s lived here for close to two years now, and nothing ever changes.  The room’s always clean, always quiet, the bed’s always made; the air even smells the same—institutionally sanitized, with a faint, sharp whiff of some chemical he’s never been able to place.  Every time he enters, it makes his nostrils sting briefly.  After a minute, though, he’s used to it; the scent and the sting recede.  And most of the time, he can ignore it, though it never quite goes away.

 

This isn’t a home.  It always feels… dead.  Empty.  When the door to a home opens, the air is warm and soft, and alive.  Noisy.  It smells like dinner, or your wife’s perfume, or the fresh cedar shavings in your best friend’s rat cage.  It isn’t something that you have to adjust to; it’s something that welcomes, that gives comfort.   You don’t even really notice it, because it’s just… part of living.  It’s right, and you never notice right, until it isn’t there anymore.

 

Maybe I should get some candles—some of those scented ones.  The ones that smell like food cooking.  Pumpkin pie, maybe.  Or baked apples; Bonnie always made ‘em with cinnamon.

 

Wilson smiles sadly at his own foolishness; he’s just homesick for… a home.  That’s all it is.  Tonight, though, Wilson’s grateful for the impersonality, the silence, even the flat, lifeless air.  He feels safe here; this room asks nothing of him, requires nothing.  He takes a breath and tries to ignore the way it doesn’t quite fill his lungs.  He takes another, and closes his eyes, and tells himself he’s beginning to relax.  He’s getting good at this; he almost believes it.  He rolls his shoulders and rubs his neck.  He even ignores the weird scraping noise out in the hall, so close it sounds like it’s at his door.  Doesn’t concern him though; he’s alone, and happy about it.

 

And in an instant, his painstakingly constructed illusion is gone; shattered against the sharp planes of a loud voice.  House, who somehow sucks all the air out of every space he ever inhabits, has arrived—with a bang, and without a key; he’s putting a metal nail file into his pocket as he enters.

 

“What the hell is up with you?" House demands as he stalks around the suddenly too-full room, turning on every lamp in the place.  "The whole Greta Garbo impersonation is getting a little old.  You develop an allergy to people?  To light?”

 

When every corner is blazing with light, when the television’s been turned on and the volume turned up to “blare,” House, satisfied, collapses on the couch, turns to Wilson and smiles smugly.

 

Wilson explodes.  Striding over to House, he yanks the remote away, stabs the ‘off’ button, then flings it across the room.  “Oh, I get it!  It’s just peachy when you go behind your nice, safe walls and you shut down.  You get to treat everybody like crap, and you count on me to wait patiently like… like some loyal guard dog, keep the rest of the world at bay until you’re ready to come out and play again.” 

 

Wilson doesn’t mention that that’s exactly what he’s always done, since shortly after House’s infarction, and maybe that’s why House has come to expect it.  He glares at House, and continues.  “But I try to get a little time to myself and you can’t stand it, you take it personally.  You break into my room, invade my space?!”  Wilson sighs, and catches his breath.  “It’s not always all about you, House.  Sometimes, astounding as it is, it’s just about the rest of us.  You know, the other six point seven billion people who share the planet with you?  Deal with it.”

 

“You want me to leave?  You wanna sit in your righteous little corner, lick your wounds until they bleed?  Don’t let me stop you.”  House stands with a slow, exaggerated effort, grunts loudly with pain as he makes his laborious way to the door.  Wilson, arms folded, watches impassively.

 

When House gives a strained, hitched sigh, and the cane trembles beneath his hand, Wilson, unimpressed, shakes his head.  “You’re really chewing the scenery; gotta say, though, not one of your better performances.”

 

House lifts his chin and opens the door with a flourish.  He pulls the door closed behind him with a decisive click.

 

Wilson, arms still folded, glances at his watch, then stares at the doorknob.  He nods to himself when, eleven seconds later, it begins to turn.

 

“You were seriously gonna let me leave!” House complains in an aggrieved tone.

 

“Actually,” Wilson says dryly, “I was just calculating if I could make it to the door in time to lock it before you returned.  And turns out, that’d be a no.”

 

House attempts to look insulted, but he drops the pose quickly; he’s got more serious matters on his mind.  “So.  You never told me why you’ve been avoiding me.  And everyone else.  Well… I get the whole ditching-everybody-else concept; I even approve.  But me?  Thought I was your bestest bud!”

 

“Sure, House.  Thoughtless of me, staying away from the friend who almost cost me a pain-and-suffering lawsuit with that patient I misdiagnosed.  Next time, I’ll sing your praises from the roof of the hospital and nominate you for Friend of the Year; you’re a shoo-in.  That work for you?”

 

House smiles and wags his fingers at Wilson.  “Aww, you!  I’m just a sucker for sarcasm.  ‘Specially when it’s so subtle.”  He drops the smile.  “You’re angry with me.”

 

“You think?”

 

“What’d I do?”

 

“How much time do you have?”

 

House tips his head back, informs the ceiling, “And the zingers just keep coming.”  He looks at Wilson.  “Save us both some time; cut to the chase.”

 

“House, it’s not that simple.  Yeah, I’m pissed with you.  But for what?  Depends what day it is.  Hell, it depends what time it is!”

 

House makes a show of looking at his watch.  “Let’s start with 6:49pm.  That’d be now.”

 

“Where do I start?” Wilson asks rhetorically.  “Breaking and entering.  Disturbing the peace.  Improper use of your disability to garner undeser—”

 

“Wait a second!  That’s not a reason; it’s a rap sheet.  Gimme a reason, something I can sink my teeth into.”

 

Wilson smiles thinly.  “You refuse to leave me alone.”

 

“That’s it?  That’s it?  I give you a free shot, and the best you can come up with is I’m invading your space?” 

 

“I’m sure this won’t impress you, but it’s been… a difficult few weeks for me.  See, it actually bothers me when I’m responsible for someone else’s misery.”

 

House sighs theatrically.  “The cancer guy again.  You do know, don’t you, that they don’t hand out bonus points to good little doctors for getting more depressed than their patients? ”

 

“They don’t hand out bonus points for invalidating your best friend’s feelings, either,” Wilson snaps.

 

House looks at him.  “So you’re miserable, and you want me to acknowledge it.  Well, bully for you.  Being miserable doesn’t make you better than anybody else, you know; it just makes you miserable,” he says, and Wilson can practically hear the quotation marks around the words.  Too bad he hadn’t realized when he’d first said them to House how cruel it sounded, how belittling.  But he’ll be damned if he’d let House know that.

 

“The only reason I’m miserable is because there are two people in this room.  And since I happen to live here….”  Wilson doesn’t hold out much hope that House’ll take the hint and leave.  In fact, he doesn’t hold out any hope—and House doesn’t disappoint; he plops down on the couch again as if he’s planning to stay there all evening.

 

“Lucky for you I’m wearing my Impervious Suit tonight; otherwise, that might’ve hurt my feelings,” House tells him.

 

“Perish the thought.”  Wilson’s beginning to wonder if it’s even possible to hurt House’s feelings. 

 

 “That’s okay,” House says magnanimously.  “I’ll let you make it up to me by telling me how brilliant my new grand plan is.”

 

“I’m on tenterhooks; do tell.”

 

“You might be interested to know I’ve decided to let the new kids adjust to life on campus without the usual hazing rituals.  I’m going to—as they say—absent myself from their orbit.  You’re always telling me my team’s the best in the state; gonna let ‘em prove it.  Rumor is I… uh… inhibit people.  And maybe intimidate them; go figure.  So—if I want to know what they’re really capable of—I’m just gonna sit back, pretend I’m a department head, make like an administrator for a while.”

 

“You have some good points,” Wilson says thoughtfully.

 

When House responds, his tone is light—but Wilson can tell he’s surprised.  “My points are always good; that’s a given.  But… you’re not gonna try and talk me out of it?”

 

“Would it do any good?” Wilson asks.

 

“I don’t know,” House answers honestly—and now Wilson’s surprised.  “Kinda counting on you to try, though.”

 

“Why?”

 

House rolls his eyes as if the answer’s the most obvious thing in the world.  “Because that’s how I figure out if your cons are gonna outweigh my pros, of course!”

 

Wilson stares; House means it.  So he backpedals.  “Well… on second thought that might not be a good—”

 

“Hey!  You had your chance!  Doesn’t mean anything if I have to tell you what you should’ve done.  Duh.”  He rolls his eyes again, and adds a lifted eyebrow for emphasis.

 

Wilson doesn’t understand why this crazy reasoning irritates him; he knows only that it does.  “Sorry I fell short of your expectations,” he snaps.  “Next go-round, clue me in ahead of time and I’ll do you proud.”

 

“Pissy today,” House observes.  “Not sure I should squander my evening hanging with you.”  But he swings his legs up, stretches out on the couch.

 

“Do yourself a favor, then—don’t.  Please.  Don’t.  Couldn’t live with myself, knowing I’d ruined your evening.  Go; I’ll even hold the door for you.”

 

"It’s okay,” House assures him.  “I’m here for you, bud.”

 

“No, you’re here for a solution to the puzzle—that all-consuming mystery of why I’d possibly choose to spend time alone, instead of basking in the warm glow of your company.”

 

“There’s that, too,” House says agreeably, apparently unfazed by Wilson’s peevish glare.  “And normally I’d say have at it; I’m not one to stay where I’m clearly not wanted.  But,” he continues loudly over the bark of Wilson’s harsh laugh, “But,” he repeats, “it’s been going on a month now, this whole pitiful ‘I’m my own best friend’ routine.  People are beginning to talk.”

 

“They’re only talking because they’re amazed to discover that you can afford to pay for your own lunch.  Most of ‘em had never seen that particular phenomenon before.  And it might never occur to you, but some people actually enjoy their own company.”

 

“But not you.  You want people to need you.  And that, unfortunately, requires… uh… people.  You thrive on solving their problems, knowing the answers.  Becoming the object of their adoration.  I told Cameron once that she was the Circle Queen.  You go her one better; you’re the Gate Keeper.  You get to decide how hard to beat ‘em, how bad to break ‘em.  And then you get the satisfaction of resetting them and pulling them in to join the rest of the Perfect People.  And you’re good at your job, damned good.  But lately, your job satisfaction quotient’s been low.  And it’s bugging you.”

 

Wilson, disgusted, shakes his head.  “I can’t even begin to point out all the ways your analogy’s faulty.  But how ‘bout we start with you.  If I was as successful as you claim, you’d be Circle King by now—my shining achievement.”

 

“Nope, not me.  I’m an exception; I refuse to be broken and reset for my own good.  Not even to buff up your stats.  The Circle?  Been there, done that, found it not to my liking.”  He sees Wilson’s surprised expression.

 

“All right, I’ll share.  Goes against my nature, but what the hell.  Even I, the Lone Ranger, was once not immune to the charms of The Circle.  When I was inside it, I was as smug and superior and safe as the rest of its inhabitants.  Then, this happened.”  He indicates his damaged leg with a flip of his hand.  His eyes narrow a little, and go distant.  Wilson wonders what he’s remembering; it clearly isn’t pleasant, and House just as clearly isn’t going to share it.

 

When House speaks again, his voice has a faraway quality; he seems to be thinking aloud more than talking to Wilson.  “And I got tossed out of The Circle on my ass.  But I was too stupid, maybe even too egotistical to know it; thought they cared about who I was, not just what I could provide for ‘em.  Turns out, they didn’t even know who I was.  But it wasn’t me they wanted; it was my skill, my brains.  As soon as I found that out, I left.  And they never noticed.  Because the parts I took weren’t the parts they ever saw.  And it didn’t matter, because the things I left behind were the only ones they’d placed any importance on.”

 

House sighs then, a long, regretful sound.  His eyes refocus and he seems to remember that he’s not alone; he looks at Wilson and begins to speak in a normal tone.

 

“And you’re no less hypocritical than the rest of them.  Difference with you is, you're so good at it you call it 'truth'--and believe it.  What was it you said during our last variation of this conversation?  Oh, yeah….”  Here, House deepens his voice dramatically, intones, “’The most painful truth does far less damage, in the long term, than the most innocuous lie.’  Sad thing is, you believe that—but you don’t live it.  And that’s why you’re so screwed up now.  All those little lies to yourself have ganged up and become a wrecking ball—and that ball’s aimed right for your chest.  And you don’t know enough to get out of the way.”

 

“Oh, I get it,” Wilson says bitterly.  “So you’re here to mitigate the damage, push me to safety.  For my own good, of course.”

 

House doesn’t look at Wilson when he states, without humor, “The Circle has its faults.  But even I can’t dispute that it’s safer in there.  And I’m all about the damage control.”

 

“What if that’s not what I want?  What if it’s not what I need?  Maybe I just wanna handle things your way for a while.  Be the Lone Ranger, solve my own problems, decide on my own truths.  Not have to answer to anybody.”

 

“Even the Lone Ranger had Tonto,” House points out quietly.  “And… he counted on him to be the voice of reason.  Works for me, but you?  Nope.  It’s like this; you belong in the circle; I don’t.  Never will.  Probably never did.”

 

This rare admission from House pulls Wilson out of his own thoughts, his own misery.  House, in his twisted way, has just announced that he needs Wilson in his life, counts on him to be the other half of House’s lonely, exclusive Circle.  And Tonto’s been unreachable lately.
 

And that translates into--he’s worried I’m gone.  Afraid I won’t be back.  Don’t know why I didn’t notice before. 
 

Wilson looks long at House, reads the vulnerability and the pain in his eyes.  He feels powerless to help his friend; everything House has said is fact—immutable fact.  Then, he remembers what House had said earlier, about counting on Wilson to provide the other side, to help House weigh his own arguments.  He’d blown it a few minutes ago; now he’s determined to share whatever insight he can.

 

“You’re wrong, you know.  You do belong in a Circle.  It’s just… more exclusive, that’s all.  You’re there, and I’m there,” Wilson says.  “I mean… I’m not there now.  But I will be.  Just… give me some time.  Let me get past the McKenna thing; then I’ll be back.”

 

“Oh, come off it!  Been four weeks since Mr. ‘Financial Ruin Is A Fate Worse Than Death’ tipped over your happy little world.  There’s more to it than that.”

 

Wilson sighs.  He’s never gonna get rid of House at this rate.  Should’ve saved himself some time up front and given up his delusion of a right to privacy without a struggle.  House would’ve left satisfied, and he’d be enjoying his solitude now.  Well… not enjoying, exactly, but….  “Okay.  If I tell you, will you go?”

 

House doesn’t respond, but Wilson continues anyway.  “If it’s so damned important to you, I’ll tell you.  That fiasco with Mr. McKenna got me thinking.  What I do… it’s hard.  People die.  Lots of people.  All the time.  And it bothers me.  It hurts, okay?  I just… it’s easier to… I want to… just let me deal with things my own way, okay?  Alone.”  He gazes defiantly at House, and is amazed to see a triumphant grin on House’s face.  “What are you smiling about?” he demands.

 

House reaches into his pocket and withdraws a folded sheet of paper.  “That puzzle?  Solved it before you spilled.  Damn, I’m good.”

 

There’s a knock at the door, and before Wilson can move, House holds up his hand.  “That’s for me,” he says, tossing the paper to Wilson.  “Just a minute,” he calls, and begins to go to the door.

 

“What’s that?” Wilson, mystified, gestures toward the door.  “And what’s this?” he continues, looking at the square of folded paper.

 

“Just read it, you moron.”

 

Wilson unfolds it; a standard list off a printer, his current patients.  Twenty-three of them.  But the neat, typed lines aren’t what grabs his attention.  House, two different-colored highlighters, and a purple pen have turned the thing into a work of art.

 

The seven patients who’d come to him carrying death sentences have been highlighted in yellow.  Of those seven, the three he’d cured are circled in purple.  And on top of the four currently in remission, House’s distinctive scribble announces, “Status TBA—but they ain’t dead yet!”

 

By the names of the eight ‘routine’ patients, the purple pen had jotted—‘compassion/methotrexate/home—boring

 

And across the five names of patients that Wilson had fought for, fought hard to get them into research protocols that could reverse their grim prognoses—day-glo orange proclaims, ‘Match of the Century:  Boy Wonder vs. Death!!!  Boy Wonder Undefeated!’

Wilson stares at the list, at the message.  When he looks up, a smile’s just beginning to form on his face—until he sees House open the door and take out his wallet. 

Stunned, Wilson watches as House gives the delivery man a twenty dollar bill, then reaches back into his wallet for a five and murmurs, “What the hell—here.  Only live once, right?”  House pushes the door closed and heads back towards Wilson, carrying the greasy, fragrant box.  The heady aromas of pepperoni and spices warm the room, and Wilson notices immediately that the room’s not ‘sanitized’ anymore.  It’s just… something it’s never been.  For this moment, it’s right.  It’s home.

 

“What the hell is… all this?” Wilson asks in a dazed voice, gesturing at the pizza, the paper—and House.

 

“A… somewhat… wise man once told me to start small,” House intones.  “That list is a small reminder that it isn’t always about the end.  And this?”  House hefts the box he’s holding.  “It’s pizza,” House says, and now his voice is quiet, oddly gentle.  “With a friend.” 




 
Thoughts 
14th-Dec-2007 08:19 pm (UTC)
House and Wilson do make a circle. And it's true, how often one is part of a circle only because of what they can contribute to it, not because of who they are. Very nice therapy session. :-)

I did find a typo: "Shoe-in" should be "shoo-in". HTH.
14th-Dec-2007 08:40 pm (UTC)
ahh... that wasn't a typo--that was stupid author used a term she'd never before seen IN PRINT! thank you. and thank you.
14th-Dec-2007 08:44 pm (UTC)
Good God, House just won't shut up. But that's House. It's nice, in his twisted way, how House lets Wilson know that he misses him being around. How he turns Wilson's words back to him, lectures him about being miserable, then initiates the "pizza with a friend." That was sweet, in that special House sort of way.
14th-Dec-2007 08:57 pm (UTC)
It's nice, in his twisted way

often, house seems to lack the ability to be nice in any recognizable way. lucky for him, then, that wilson knows how to translate 'twisted' back into standard english! so glad you enjoyed it.
14th-Dec-2007 10:02 pm (UTC)
*sigh* That described the humans in the world:

“And I got tossed out of The Circle on my ass. But I was too stupid, maybe even too egotistical to know it; thought they cared about who I was, not just what I could provide for ‘em. Turns out, they didn’t even know who I was. But it wasn’t me they wanted; it was my skill, my brains. As soon as I found that out, I left. And they never noticed. Because the parts I took weren’t the parts they ever saw. And it didn’t matter, because the things I left behind were the only ones they’d placed any importance on.”

That´s not the only part I could break out of your wonderful and "true" story.

He,he, I say always again: Humans a weird. Life is weird. And if you are not in The Circle life will be much more weird.

Thanks Kidnurse that is a great written story and usually I say also: Yes Mulder (X-files) is right, the truth is out there but now I have to say: The truth is in there (in your amazing real story).
14th-Dec-2007 10:05 pm (UTC)
The truth is in there (in your amazing real story).

oh, you've no idea; you've said a mouthful there! as house would say, however--weird is better than boring!! :)
14th-Dec-2007 10:04 pm (UTC)
Oh, wow. I just re-read this, and the part with the list is fantastic! I love what you did with it, shifting it so that House didn't have to say anything else and yet it was so vividly him.

Nicely done. Wish we'd get to see this on the show, but ... *sigh*.
14th-Dec-2007 10:07 pm (UTC)
House didn't have to say anything else and yet it was so vividly him

which was your suggestion. thanks. and hugs.
15th-Dec-2007 12:21 am (UTC)
I heart this scene. Insightful and sweet while still being perfectly Housian. His quotation and reference of things Wilson had said to him worked very well not only in bringing his point across, but demonstrating Wilson as his model of how to help or speak to a friend in a situation such as this. Wilson's realization and reassurance were perfect, as was House's list and offer of pizza, and well, his showing up in the first place. Thanks for this. :)
15th-Dec-2007 12:50 pm (UTC)
this was the first story i've written wherein the beginning and ending were in place first, and then i had to figure out how to connect them. i was having massive amounts of trouble doing that until i quit trying to make house say what i thought he should say, and i just let him take over. i'm pleased with the results!
15th-Dec-2007 12:31 am (UTC)
I like this, and I very much like the closing of the circle with the pizza. It's great to see that loose end from the show become a vehicle of insight for both of them.
15th-Dec-2007 12:56 pm (UTC)
as i told med_anomaly, this piece was an inadvertent experiment. i'd intended for it to be angsty fluff, and much, much shorter; house had other ideas--he's solely responsible for the route travelled from start to conclusion. it was a fascinating process.
15th-Dec-2007 03:06 am (UTC) - Comment. (Dr. Fantabulous)
Anonymous
Well, there's a nice Christmas present ;)
The "pizza with a friend" bit- love it. If they could 'bring Wilson back' like that on House, I, for one, would be pretty happy with it!
Happy Holidays!
15th-Dec-2007 12:58 pm (UTC) - Re: Comment. (Dr. Fantabulous)
'bring Wilson back' like that on House

that'd make me ecstatic too. let's ask santa claus!

happiest of holidays to you, as well!
15th-Dec-2007 06:58 am (UTC)
I'm wondering if this takes place during something I missed or not, but this was lovely. I liked the way you wrote House talking about his past, even if it feels foreign to me. I wonder if what he was talking about might have been something he tried to please Stacy or if he did it in college to distance himself from his childhood. Either way, it's something I never thought about and I'm going to have to ponder it some more. You're really good at doing stuff like that, ever since the 'Devil' trilogy. *sighs*

I do wonder, though, if you ever got my comment for your post about reviews at the Pit of Voles. *curious*
15th-Dec-2007 01:05 pm (UTC)
sweetie, you have a need for backstory when writing--and apparently when reading as well! i, on the other hand, view backstory as a useful plot device [when it can add something to the story] or as something best left to the reader's imagination [when it's simply hinted at]. so i've no answers for you on this particular piece; feel free to ponder away! ;)

yup; got your comment; glad the essay pleased you!
15th-Dec-2007 07:23 am (UTC)
A lovely story. It always makes my day to read one of your stories. Love how you define and repair their relationship at the same time.
15th-Dec-2007 01:07 pm (UTC)
you define and repair their relationship

what a great way to put it! glad the story made your day; your comment certainly brightens mine! :)
16th-Dec-2007 05:14 pm (UTC)
Aw, I love it! Poor Wilson-- that first scene made me think of the shot where he's just sitting on the end of the bed in his hotel room in season three alone and cut off. Liked how Wilson is trying to convince himself that this is what he wants-- tells himself he’s beginning to relax. He’s getting good at this; he almost believes it...he’s alone, and happy about it. And love this description of House-- House, who somehow sucks all the air out of every space he ever inhabits, has arrived—with a bang, and without a key House may suck the air out of the room, but that's when Wilson really comes alive. Wonder if some of Wilson's reluctance to have House there is because he knows House is going to force him to look at himself, shattering the illusion Wilson was working on before House arrived.

Nice touch too having House admit that Wilson is his conscious, and that he relies on that. (...you’re not gonna try and talk me out of it?...Kinda counting on you to try) For two people who really are emotionally closed off, they do open up to one another (in a wonderfully weird and subtle way) and you show that so well in your stories! It's telling too that House admits that Wilson belongs in the Circle, and that there Wilson is "safer." As much as he values Wilson, he also wants him safe (which probably causes a bit of conflict on House's part, since he needs Wilson so much.)

And the list- aww! It's like Wilson just got some test results back and everything is great. (Liked House paying for the pizza too- nice touch.) The last paragraph was a perfect way to end the story-- both letting Wilson know how much his words mean to House and how much House values their friendship.

Thanks for sharing this! It's just the break I needed from my work mindset. And don't worry about the bit I had a link to in the email-- *laughs* I still don't have any idea exactly where the story is going yet and it won't help you figure out what I'm looking for, since I don't know myself (hate getting a story idea at this time of the year cause I can't give it the attention it needs until after Christmas!) I've got a vague idea but won't get to follow the few idea threats until after Christmas. But, whenever I have a question, I'll let you know (might have at least one tonight though.) Thanks again!
16th-Dec-2007 05:36 pm (UTC)
if some of Wilson's reluctance to have House there is because he knows House is going to force him to look at himself, shattering the illusion

yup. that's built into the subconscious 'job description' that wilson has for house. if house didn't force wilson to 'look in the mirror,' i think wilson would be every bit as baffled and disappointed as house was when wilson didn't argue with house's plan for handling his newbies.

letting Wilson know how much his words mean to House and how much House values their friendship

i believe, too, that wilson was shocked--actually shocked--that house not only remembered wilson's Miserable Speech, but that house had so utterly taken those words to heart. as well, the discovery of how unintentionally cruel those words sound clearly bothers wilson; maybe he'll learn something from having heard them from house. we can hope!

glad the story could provide a quick break. and i'm looking forward to the question[s]!

(Deleted comment)
17th-Dec-2007 01:58 pm (UTC)
it's not what House says, but what he does

yes; with house, deeds always mean far more than mere words--because within those deeds abides honesty. far too easy, in his mind, to obfuscate with mere words.

glad you enjoyed, and you're welcome.
12th-Feb-2008 06:12 pm (UTC)
Don't know how I missed this one, but I did. This was excellent. Thanks for sharing :)
22nd-Feb-2008 01:46 pm (UTC)
glad you found--and enjoyed--it!
7th-Jul-2008 10:42 pm (UTC) - Therapy
Lovely, gentle, atmospheric ... brought tears to my eyes, and I don't tearify easily . Thank you for writing it.

Cheers,

Rusty in San Diego CA USA ... formerly of Polk County (Mulberry) FL ... isn't that where you are?
17th-Nov-2008 03:43 pm (UTC)
Oh, amazing. How could I have missed this gem? I'm glad it got my attention, it's so worth it. I love the way House gets his message across - and how Wilson gets the message. And I love their Circle - probably, indeed, the only circle House and Wilson will ever fit in because people never look farther than they absolutely have to.
17th-Nov-2008 03:51 pm (UTC)
oh--i didn't realize you'd missed it! this one pretty much wrote itself, after i quit trying to make house say what i wanted him to say, and just let him talk. the end result is a real favorite of mine, too.