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Cats' Corners: the little HOUSE in the woods....
Where House is NEVER safe...
Dark Hour (seventh in the HOUR series) 
26th-Jun-2007 11:50 am
WilRoofBW

Title: Dark Hour
Characters: House, Wilson
Rating: G
Genre: Angst
Word Count: 800
Summary: The night of Wilson's injury, no one's sleeping well.  The previous vignettes, in order, are:
Visiting HourHappy HourMidnight Hour,   Fifty-Minute Hour,  Random Hour, and Painful Hour.

I drove [info]blackmare_9  and [info]misanthropicobs a bit crazy with this one, I'm afraid.  It was written at 6:45 this morning, and I bugged 'em to get it in shape so I could post it today--enormous thanks to both!  They actually have lives and jobs, but they put up with my insanity anyway--amazing!

DARK HOUR

 

Wilson twists uncomfortably in his bed in the prison infirmary.  As usual, he’s thinking too much.  As a matter of fact, an insane thought has just drifted through his head—Almost worth it, getting stabbed, just to see House, know he’s all right.  But the smile the thought brings fades quickly; House hadn’t really been all right, had he?

 

Wilson forces himself to stop thinking, and tries again to find a more restful position in the hospital bed.  It’s not that his injured shoulder hurts—although it does.  It’s not that he’d prefer to be on the far less comfortable cot in his cell—although he would.  And it isn’t that they aren’t being kind to him here, even solicitous.  The orderly who’d just been by to check on him had even called him a hero.  A hero. 

 

Wait’ll House hears that!  In his book, I’m a moron for what I did.  Wilson stares at the ceiling in the dark and thinks.  He’s probably right.  And if I were at his place right now, he’d be reminding me just how right he is.  He’d tell me I deserve the pain.

 

Wilson smiles to himself.  If he were recovering from this injury on House’s couch, he’d have to take a lot of crap from the owner of said couch.  House would call him a baby.  He’d toss the ibuprofen bottle at Wilson, and expect him to catch it.  Then he’d stand there, watching, until Wilson had swallowed the tablets.

 

House doesn’t own anything as traditional as an ice pack; he’d probably offer a package of frozen carrots for the stinging in the shoulder.  Or an icy beer, referring to it as ‘dual purpose first aid’.  And he’d perch uncomfortably on the edge of the coffee table, watching Wilson with hooded eyes until he’d decided that Wilson was okay; wouldn’t matter what Wilson’s own opinion was.  Then he’d stand up and run a hand roughly over Wilson’s forehead to check for fever, commenting that thermometers were for wimps.  He wouldn’t bother to mention that he didn’t actually own one.

 

Finally, he’d toss an extra pillow in Wilson’s general direction, along with some smartass comment that Wilson didn’t actually deserve to be comfortable.

 

House would head off to bed then, yelling over his shoulder that if Wilson needed anything during the night—anything at all—the phone was on the table; call 911.

 

And then House would get up a few times during the night, and if Wilson happened to rouse, and find House observing him from across the room, House would mumble something about the damned leg making him restless, and he’d disappear quickly.

 

Wilson grins in the dark.  Damn, he wishes he were recovering on House’s couch!

 

House stands in the darkened living room, gazing towards the vacant couch.  Good thing Wilson’s not here, driving me crazy, expecting me to wait on him, see to his shoulder like I was a doctor or something.  Nothing more diagnostically dull than some idiot with a shank wound.

 

House closes his eyes hard against the sudden image of the rusty, jagged metal piercing Wilson’s flesh, tearing its way through muscle towards Wilson’s heart.

 

But House discovers that his closed eyelids provide the perfect backdrop for rivers and sheets of flowing crimson, deathly white faces with impossibly large, impossibly frightened brown eyes.  House decides he’d rather stare at the empty couch.

 

After a while, House sighs, and picks up the telephone.  The switchboard operator connects him to the infirmary.  The nurse who answers his call is patient with him.  Yes, James is receiving antibiotics prophylactically for infection.  Yes, he seems to be resting comfortably, and his vital signs are fine.  Of course they’re treating him for the pain.  She’ll let him know, in the morning, that Dr. House called, and was concerned.  No?  All right then, she won’t mention the phone call.

 

As the nurse hangs up the phone, she makes a mental note to tell Wilson about House’s call anyway.  The eccentric, crippled doctor seems to be very important to Wilson—knowing about House’s call might cheer him up a bit.  Poor James; always so sad, always so… far away.  He doesn’t belong here.

 

House slowly recradles the phone.  He limps to the closet and rummages around.  He tosses a comforter and a pillow impatiently onto the couch.  It’s a dumb, human thing to do, pretending that Wilson is here; House curses his own irrationality.  Then he stands looking at the shapeless mounds on his couch, in a room so dark that not even he would be able to see the single tear, coursing slowly down his cheek.

 

In the morning, the couch isn’t empty anymore—although, for the life of him, House can’t remember how he wound up there.

And the inevitable happens:
Desperate Hour


Thoughts 
26th-Jun-2007 04:36 pm (UTC)
*wibbles*

I've been mem'ing all of these, by the way.
26th-Jun-2007 04:50 pm (UTC)
been mem'ing

dunno what that is....
26th-Jun-2007 04:39 pm (UTC)
Ouch.... so well done, but so extremely painful to read and imagine. More good stuff - thanks for it :)
26th-Jun-2007 04:52 pm (UTC)
so extremely painful to read

and also to write, actually....
26th-Jun-2007 04:44 pm (UTC)
hen he stands looking at the shapeless mounds on his couch
*howl*

In the morning, the couch isn’t empty anymore—although, for the life of him, House can’t remember how he wound up there.
I'd yell at House to get Wilson back or at least tell him he misses him, if it did anything good.

This all sounds so realistic to what I'd expect House to do in a situation like this. He just can't say it and I can't blame him...

and SOMEONE PLEASE CUDDLE WILSON!!

*goes back to boring important Uni-work* Thanks for giving me such a nice break! :-)
26th-Jun-2007 04:54 pm (UTC)
all sounds so realistic to what I'd expect House to do in a situation like this

'twas what i was trying for--yay!!
26th-Jun-2007 04:46 pm (UTC)
Aaaaw... this is so sad and so sweet.
26th-Jun-2007 04:55 pm (UTC)
so sad and so sweet

yeah... i guess we could call this my 'poignant period'! ;)
26th-Jun-2007 04:50 pm (UTC)
... wow, that was a lot of depressing in a small package. =P

But well done; I do love House is this, only admitting, even to himself, how much he needs Wilson when Wilson isn't there to see it. Even though Wilson clearly already knows. Ah, boys. ^_^

~Djinn
26th-Jun-2007 04:58 pm (UTC)
a lot of depressing in a small package

yeah, and this time, the two of 'em insisted on exceeding the approximately-600-word limit. oh well; at least they're talking to me! ;)
26th-Jun-2007 04:50 pm (UTC)
Another 'Nooooooooooooooooo'-worthy chapter ;P

So House, having to deal with it by pretending Wilson is there on the couch.

*sniffle*
26th-Jun-2007 05:00 pm (UTC)
having to deal with it by pretending Wilson is there

actually, i of course feel sorry for all i'm putting wilson through--but it's house who's really breaking my heart....
26th-Jun-2007 04:57 pm (UTC)
You're certainly right: there will be nothing of my heart left by the end of this! *whimpers*
26th-Jun-2007 05:03 pm (UTC)
*whimpers*

uh-oh; you're back to using the sad!wilson icon again... :(
*scurries guiltily away*
26th-Jun-2007 05:02 pm (UTC)
so many things I loved in that chapter (and in all the other chapters too and in all your stories, but you already know that right ?): Wilson's thoughts about how would House behave if Wilson was actually on his couch. So totally House, moving, heart-breaking House. I love that guy, I do. And then this phone call, typically House again : never looking for gratitude, never wanting to be seen as a good guy. Self-loathing, so painful to watch, so over-whelming. And this last sentence : "In the morning, the couch isn’t empty anymore—although, for the life of him, House can’t remember how he wound up there" PERFECT, simply perfect. Like a song or a poem.
ps : aren't we tuesday today ? I wasn't expecting any updtates, just compulsively checking your page, like a habit, and hop ! the surprise ! marvellous surprise. Thanks. uh and thanks to your team, I heard they're part of that gift. ;-)
26th-Jun-2007 05:07 pm (UTC)
aren't we tuesday today ? I wasn't expecting any updtates, just compulsively checking your page, like a habit, and hop ! the surprise ! marvellous surprise. Thanks. uh and thanks to your team, I heard they're part of that gift

the tuesday thingy was just for The More Things Change. I'm posting the Hour vignettes as i do them, so that could mean several in a row, then nothing for a couple of days--all depends on house, wilson, and my kid!

as to my "team"--yup, big thanks are due blackmare and misanthropicobs! as a matter of fact, several of the portions you mentioned as especially enjoying were suggested by them!!
26th-Jun-2007 05:42 pm (UTC)
I don't know what else to say that no one else has, but I just wanted to comment on the excellence of these stories. Thank you for sharing them with us.
26th-Jun-2007 05:46 pm (UTC)
Thank you for sharing

and thank you for reading! i wish i could say i write these mainly for my own enjoyment--but i don't. without an appreciative audience, i honestly believe i wouldn't need to write!
26th-Jun-2007 05:42 pm (UTC)
no, don't tell him I called...
hmph
26th-Jun-2007 05:49 pm (UTC)
don't tell him I called...
hmph


yeah, well--house doesn't do 'caring and concern', at least not in the traditional way. heaven forbid wilson should know house is actually upset and worried, right? ;)
26th-Jun-2007 05:46 pm (UTC)
This series is terrific! Thank you!
26th-Jun-2007 05:50 pm (UTC)
series is terrific

so glad you think so--'cuz there's apparently a lot more to come!
26th-Jun-2007 05:49 pm (UTC)
Wilson needs to be cuddled, most definately. The infirmary nurse needs a bonus in her check for going to tell Wilson that House called. Still think House needs a little pain for how he left Wilson in the last section, and deserves to be standing, crying in his living room, although part of me still wants to hug him.

Thank you so much for this wonderful series. I just finished reading your other ones last night- the one where House had breakthrough pain, and then where he had VRSA (up until 4am, might I add), they were awesome as well. Thanks again.
26th-Jun-2007 05:53 pm (UTC)
just finished reading your other ones last night- the one where House had breakthrough pain, and then where he had VRSA (up until 4am, might I add

*grinning--day has been made!*

thank you :)
26th-Jun-2007 05:55 pm (UTC)
This series gets better and better with each installment (and it was superb from the first one.)
26th-Jun-2007 06:00 pm (UTC)
but no pressure, right? ;) (actually, the one who's putting pressure on me is me--and i'm doing just a fine job of it, too! lemme tell ya; sanity and clean houses [small 'h'] are both vastly overrated!)
26th-Jun-2007 07:45 pm (UTC)
"House slowly recradles the phone. He limps to the closet and rummages around. He tosses a comforter and a pillow impatiently onto the couch. It’s a dumb, human thing to do, pretending that Wilson is here; House curses his own irrationality. Then he stands looking at the shapeless mounds on his couch, in a room so dark that not even he would be able to see the single tear, coursing slowly down his cheek."

- I totally cried. House is breaking my heart, here.
26th-Jun-2007 08:14 pm (UTC)
House is breaking my heart

mine too--i'm sure it's a deep, dark secret around here, but i tend to be a bit... uh... overprotective of house. guess it kind've shows in my writing. ;)
26th-Jun-2007 07:56 pm (UTC)
*wibbles*

It's the post-baby hormones making me weepy, really. And maybe my contacts are acting up. Yeah, that's it. :)
26th-Jun-2007 08:17 pm (UTC)
congrats, congrats, congrats!!!!!!! (and welcome back, too!) and yeah--those hormones are murder, aren't they? (says the menopausal woman who's a danger to the world-at-large if she forgets so much as one dose of premarin).
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