Title: Desperate Hour
Characters: House, Wilson
Rating: PG
Genre: Angst
Word Count: 900
Summary: Okay, kids; you just knew this one was coming; it was... inevitable.. The previous vignettes, in order, are: Visiting Hour, Happy Hour, Midnight Hour, Fifty-Minute Hour, Random Hour, Painful Hour, and Dark Hour .
DESPERATE HOUR
In a real dark night of the soul, it is always three o’clock in the morning. ~F. Scott Fitzgerald
3:00am: Wilson
Tonight’s the night. Wilson’s planned for this with his usual attention to detail. He’s saved two weeks’ worth of his sleeping pills—no one even questioned why he’d suddenly begun accepting them each evening—and, for good measure, he’s also got six of his antidepressants.
He’ll take all the pills shortly after 3:00am, when the guard makes rounds, because the guard won’t come by again until 6:00am—and by then it’ll be too late.
Wilson had thought he’d be able to handle prison; after all, two years isn’t forever. And maybe his career is gone, and that’s a blow—but he’d still have the other good thing in his life; he’d still have House. But House’s last visit, when Wilson had been injured, had changed everything. He could see that the guilt was destroying House—and Wilson can’t allow that to happen.
Sure, his suicide will upset his friend. But death is finite; it has a definite end, and the survivors move on, given time. Imprisonment, Wilson’s decided, goes on forever. Even after he’s served his sentence and been released, his continued presence on this Earth would be a daily reminder to House of the lost medical license, the lost two years. A reminder that, Wilson knows, would eventually kill House.
I’ve screwed up enough. My marriages. My career. I’ve already lost House’s trust; things might never be the same. And without House, there’s nothing left for me. Nothing. So Wilson will die instead.
3:00am: House
Tonight’s the night. House has made no plans, said no goodbyes. But it’s time. So he retrieves his secret stash of morphine tablets—he’s not gonna die like a junkie, an empty syringe by his side—and the bottle of aged scotch he’d been saving for Wilson’s release from prison; it’ll wind up providing release for House instead.
It’s almost 3:00am, the time he’s picked, at random, to start the process. He wants to be dead by dawn, doesn’t want to suffer through another cruel, cheerful sunrise.
House had thought he’d be able to handle his guilt about Wilson’s imprisonment. But his last visit to Wilson had changed everything. The look in Wilson’s eyes… the hurt. He’d needed something House couldn’t give; he’d needed a real friend, and House doesn’t know how to be that. House had realized then that Wilson wouldn’t ever be able to move on with his life as long as House was a part of it. So House will remove himself from Wilson’s life quickly, cleanly—no different than the surgical removal of a cancer, really.
Yeah, his suicide will upset Wilson. But Wilson’s a pragmatic guy; he’ll realize, eventually, that it’s for the best. When Wilson gets out of prison, it’ll be difficult enough establishing a new life—he doesn’t need the added anchor of being House’s friend to weigh him down further. That anchor would drown him, eventually. So House will drown himself first.
3:12am
Wilson feigns sleep as the guard passes. Once the man is gone, Wilson goes to the small stainless steel sink in his cell. He divides the pills into two handfuls and places the first group of ten in his mouth, swallowing it quickly with a handful of the rusty-tasting water. He takes the second bunch of pills the same way, then returns to his cot.
House lays out the pills on the coffee table. He figures twenty ought to do it. Any more than that might cause him to throw them all up; any less, and his stupid body would probably just think it was at some awesome party, and then he’d wind up living through another mocking dawn.
As Wilson waits for his final sleep to overtake him, vivid pictures start to play in his mind. Holding House’s bruised, crushed hand between his own after Wilson’s plan to detox him had gone terribly wrong. Watching House lie in a coma of his own choosing, chasing the dream of having a normal life again. Thinking House had terminal brain cancer, and not being able to eat or sleep or even breathe that week, because House was dying. House, needing Wilson. House needs Wilson.
House picks up the first bunch of pills and stares at them. But instead of seeing the chalky white ovals, he sees Wilson. Standing forlornly with a suitcase at House’s front door, his life falling apart and nowhere else to go. Yelling at House like a rebellious teenager over an affair with a patient that would’ve ruined Wilson’s career. Telling House that their friendship was one of the two good things he had, and listening to his voice crack and break as he said it.
Damn him—too stupid to know I’m no good for him. I pulled him down, and the fool let me do it. When I’m gone, the world’ll eat him alive—no one left to watch out for him. He’ll never make it; damn—Wilson needs me.
Wilson can’t do it; House needs him. He bolts from the cot to the toilet and forces his fingers down his throat. The pills and the bile burn as they come up, and Wilson gasps for air. When he can breathe again, he counts the pills, floating and dissolving in the water—they’re all there. He sighs in satisfaction; he’ll live.
House can’t do it; Wilson needs him. Slowly, he collects all the pills and puts them back in the amber bottle. Then he limps to the kitchen and carefully replaces the bottle of scotch in the cabinet. He returns to the couch and allows himself a frustrated sigh; screw it—he’ll live.
Hours later, the sun rises on another day, and they’re both awake to see it.
On to: Witching Hour
And I love every second of it. I'm looking forward to seeing this finished. Please tell me this isn't finished with this section. I need more of this. More, says I.
and more is, indeed, on its way!
yeah, makes sense to me. there's a sort of... release in writing and/or reading these. kinda like a 'safe danger.'
Really loving this series. And the last one. And the ones before them too, actually. But since I am a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad fic-reader I haven't said so before now. My very very bad. Keep it up, and let them be happy?
not to worry--i (almost) always fix what i break! ;)
Fortunately I know your other stories and I KNOW you wouldn't kill one or the other (you wouldn't, would you ?). Never. So this aknowledge allowed me to breathe while I was reading. Otherwise, no pffff5, no comment.
;-)
Thanks
Beautiful
THe usual
special mention to Fitzgerald quote.
fitzgerald is my all-time favorite author; that's my all-time favorite quote! and it just... fit so well here.
This is one of the most painful installments yet. But, in this weird way, it's also one of the most uplifting for me. It left me with the same gnawing ache that the others left me with, yes, but it also left me with a very slight twinge of hope. =) I'm not going to give up on these two just yet. As always, more please!
you mustn't ever give up on house and wilson! as long as they have each other, they shall persevere!!
What? Don't give me that innocent-lamb face, my dear. I've read </i>The Contract.</i> And that Mouth of Madness thing, and...
Admit it. You're loving every bit of teh mindthumping angst.
The counterpoint here of them both deciding they need to be there for the other is nicely done. It's also very interesting that Wilson goes ahead and actually takes the pills ... and House doesn't.
i feel that their actions (and non-actions) fit their basic personalities here (or at least i hope they do). wilson, i feel, is more able than house to see a 'way out' of any situation, including a partially-accomplished suicide. i think that--once those pills were in house's body--house wouldn't even bother to look for a way out.
i don't know why i feel that this is the way it would play out, but i do know that i'm convinced of the 'rightness' of it.
God, this is great! (Before you call the people with the white coats, I'll admit to taking an anti-depressant today. I'm not insane, I swear!) Anyhow great job, I can't wait for the one were Tritter goes down. Make me proud hun!! ;<)
'twas my intent, from the start. i don't much like the new term "bromance," being used to indicate a deep, nonsexual male friendship--but i must admit, it does tend to cover all aspects of relationships like house and wilson's. kind of like the old star trek kirk and spock thing, of a brotherly love that goes 'to the soul,' or some such like that.
but you are killing me with that user icon! every time i see it, i'm forced to relive the tritter years. (yeah, okay, so it was only seven weeks, but it FELT like years!) ;)