House MD Fanfiction

Making A Difference

Hilson, nice+kisses, 2,150 words
By: lorib12

'I need you to tell me that you love me.' Said by a dying man. A desperate man.

He analyzes things. It's what he does. Sometimes until the harsh realty of the situation smacks him up side the head and he's left breathless with the agony of it. He's cold and callous. Social skills lacking on the best of days, but this man. His friend. A man so opposite on the surface but in reality, not really. They are similar. They are both scared and so very lonely and now one of them is checking out. By choice. Is it perhaps an escape from that loneliness? The never ending cycle of love lost? Or perhaps, love never found? Never ending games from the one companion that he has? 'That I allow him to have'. Is it easier to give in to the disease that is most certainly killing him, then to fight to stay? Does he feel he has no reason to fight?

Tell Me That you Love Me

It was 1:06 am when he opened his tired eyes. Something had disturbed his sleep. The little sleep he'd been getting since he made the decision to end treatment and die with a little grace and dignity. A small sad smile managed to spread across his lips at the mocking material he would hand his friend if he were to say as such out loud.

The knocking was insistent. Of course. That's what had woken him. Perhaps Sara made an escape in to the hallways again while he was bringing in his groceries. Maybe she thinks he's an idiot as well.

Making his way to the door with a polite apology on the tip of his tongue, it didn't even register in his tired and befuddled mind that Sara was eyeing him from the end of the bed as he left the room. It also took a moment to register that it wasn't one of his neighbors graciously returning his beloved animal to him. Instead, on the other side of his door stood the one person in the world that he wasn't sure he wanted to see, but yet needed oh so very much.

“House, it's the middle of the night. What the hell are you doing here?”

Knowing the man would stand there all night until his point was made, he gave into the inevitable and walked away from the open door. House would follow. Or not. A hand found it's way to scrub at his tired eyes as he sat down waiting for whatever was to come next.

“Would it make a difference?”

Wilson looked up at House with exasperation and puzzlement. Not sure what game or angle House was playing now, and just too mentally exhausted to figure it out. “House, I left my decoder ring in my other pants. If you're going to wake me at an ungodly hour, please give me a little more to work with than that.”

He expected a snarky come back, or perhaps House whipping out a bottle of whiskey and trying to pretend their shitty lives hadn't gotten that much shittier in the last month. What he didn't expect was a stone still House, looking at a spot just beyond him, looking as if he might actually be sick.

“House...?”

“If I told you that I loved you, would it make a difference?”

Wilson prided himself in being able to, for the most part, follow his genius best friend's thought process. He figured it was one of the big reasons they stayed best friends. In this instance, it left him feeling a little befuddled that he really wasn't sure where House was going with this. He knew where he hoped it would go, but if after twenty years, it hasn't yet, he didn't think House would miraculously want to go there now. Being that with House, the best offense was usually going on a quick defense, he went with it as it was all his sleep deprived brain could come up with.

“What is this, some new ploy to get me to agree to a treatment I don't want just so you can get what you want? I'm sure you'd be lying anyway.”