Chapter Text
“I don’t want to die in a hospital.”
Rain poured down on the afternoon James Wilson’s casket was lowered into the ground. A man who disappeared a little over 5 months ago after the tragic loss of his best friend. No one was sure as to why he disappeared suddenly. Rumors spread like wildfire.
Perhaps he couldn’t take being alone, not with Amber, then House dying, and Cuddy leaving.
Cancer? Are you sure? Guess if I were told I didn’t have long to live, I’d leave too.
Everyone he was close to is gone. Perhaps he sped it up.
People tried to reach out, but he left his belongings behind. No note, nothing. One day he was here and the next he was gone. Only to be discovered months later, dead in a hotel room in Atlantic City, his body being found by an anonymous patron. Their close kept secret in that casino, dying with them.
In the far distance stood a man with a trenchcoat, hat, and cane. Watching from afar behind a big enough tree to hide behind. House recognized everyone like a hawk. Deep inside, he felt a twang of pain in his heart knowing everyone he cared about attended. The same faces who attended his funeral as well, not too long ago.
When his eyes caught Thirtee,n he immediately stared, watching her every movement. Thankfully, she looked as if she had a full range of motion at the moment. But he knew that wouldn’t last forever, for he made a promise. And she was the reason for his “return” and no one else. Right?
“When I’m gone in 5 months.”
“If you’re gone,” House corrected.
Willson rolled his eyes, “If I’m gone in 5 months, what will you do afterwards?”
“Keep an eye on Thirteen.”
Willson’s eyes went wide. “What?” House asked with a raised brow.
“I expected you to say you were going to join me in the dirt.”
“Things like that are why people assume we're together,” he quipped. “Sigh. I made a promise, Thirteen, and I intend to keep that promise.”
“Plan to do anything while you wait.”
“Nope.”
“No surprise visits to anyone else? Foreman, Chase, Cameron? Taub? Your mother?” He forgot one more name, hoping his friend would say it.
“No.” He said in a serious tone. Knowing who Willson wanted him to say. “Thirteen is the only person I plan to see when the time comes.” If it ever comes, he thought. In a perfect world, she would die of old age, Kutner would be around, and Willson wouldn’t have cancer. He wouldn’t have had the infarction or muscle removed without his consent because, without the infarction, he wouldn’t have split with Stacy. If he stayed with Stacy, he wouldn’t have gotten in a relationship with…
“Hmm.” Willson smiled. “Good, lord knows you crushed that hope for her when you faked your death. Always for the theatrics.” Willson mused.
“Exactly, got to make sure she goes out with a bang.” House pointed finger guns towards Willson.
“House!” House looked confused for a moment by Willson’s reaction. After replaying his words, he realized his choice of words.
“I’m not going to shoot her, you idiot! That’ll just put the police on my tail. Also, it’s too bloody and messy. OD’ing is the best way to go.”
“Always the savior.” Never the saved, he wanted to say. Looking at House with a solemn gaze.
“Yeah.”
His funeral service was nice, peaceful. Kinder words were said than his. More people showed up than House suspected. Assuming a lot of the unfamiliar faces were old patients of Willson. He spotted familiar faces as well. Such as Cameron, Chase, Foreman, Taub, Masters, Park, Adams, and even House’s mother. Seeing his mother brought up the urge to step out of hiding and approach her. But he knew he couldn’t do that; it would be too much.
He watched the whole thing and stayed after to people watch. He spotted two figures who weren’t there earlier; he must’ve missed them in the sea of people. His heart almost burst out of his chest, and his eyes widened at the sight of Lisa and Rachel Cuddy making their way to the now covered grave sight. Two people he never planned to see ever again. His fist clenched his cane, resisting the temptation to walk up to them.
Rachel was holding a bouquet of flowers in her hand, and Cuddy was wearing a face of sadness he had only seen a handful of times. The last time he had seen it was at his very own funeral. He wanted to reach out so desperately back then and now. He wanted to hold them both one more time. But he couldn’t, life wasn’t happy endings and fairy tales. He had to stay hidden; it was for the best.
While he was too far to hear, he read their lips as they spoke to the not-so-lonely grave. Rachel said goodbye to her uncle and to take care of House. Cuddy flinched at the sound of his name, then said her own goodbye. Wishing him and Wilson the best and to say hi for them.
When the funeral was over and everyone left, he lingered for a while and then stepped out of the shadows. Limping towards his best friend's grave, he gave it one last look.
“Thank you, Wilson, for everything. Say hi to Amber for me.” His last words echoed in his mind, remembering Wilson’s eyes closing for the last time, and his breathing stopped. Luckily, he wasn’t in pain when he passed, and House made sure he was comfortable in his final moments.
“He’s all yours Bitch.” He said to a hallucination of Amber standing beside Wilson’s grave. When he blinked, Wilson appeared alongside her. The two conjoined hands soon disappeared completely. All that remained were three tombstones.
——-
“You’re trying to save me.”
“Yes, I think that little of you and that much of me.”
As the years went by, House observed everyone from afar. He was killing time, so to speak. Waiting and hoping he’d have to keep waiting for Thirteen’s condition to kick in. Maybe his wish worked, as she got a few more years to live normally. Live without fear and uncertainty, whether she did carry the trait or not. But like it’s said, life isn’t sunshine and rainbows.
Thirteen’s condition worsened and spread quickly. One day, she was fully mobilized,e and just a few days later, she lost all control over her entire body. Not long after, she couldn’t even breathe on her own. Thankfully, her mind was still intact, and she wasn’t sure if she could be grateful or not. She could do nothing for herself except move her eyes and blink. She wished she’d gone mad, unable to comprehend not being mobile but conscious. She wanted to stop experiencing this and die. But she knew no one had the heart to do so. No one except for a dead man.
“I’ll kill you. When the time comes, and you want me to.”
She was admitted to PPTH, a choice she made. As odd as it is, she found a bit of comfort in the halls she once worked in. However, she hated being in this hospital room, waiting to die. Despised knowing that she’d lose her sanity before she stopped breathing. It wouldn’t be long now before everyone would witness her at her lowest, remembering her at her worst. But how could she ask them to kill her? No one alive would be crazy enough to do that.
She heard the crack of the door open and glanced over to see a ghost standing in the doorway. She tried to move her lips but couldn’t speak. None of her other limbs seemed to listen to her as she wanted to reach out to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating.
“Save yourself, I know you can’t talk. Don’t worry, this will be painless, and you’ll be able to rest easy.” He pulled a bottle out of his pocket and searched for a syringe. “You’re probably wondering how I did it. Simple, it was greatly exaggerated.” He joked and saw a little smile form on her lips. “Sigh. Obviously, it was a fake death attempt. It’s not as fun when you can’t make a comment about how there was no way I could survive being burned alive. I was with Wilson until the very end; he died happily with little pain. At least as happy as he could. I couldn’t reach out sooner; I had to make the whole death thing stick as long as possible.”
Tears fell down her face as she watched someone who she thought was dead fulfill her wish. A wish she wouldn’t dare ask anyone to fulfill.
“You didn’t think I’d leave you hanging, did you? Don’t think so little of me. I’m sorry I dragged this out so long, though.” Her symptoms showed much quicker than he anticipated. She crashed down fast.
She missed this. Missed the sound of his voice. His stupid, poorly timed jokes. His bluntness. She grew sick and tired of everyone’s assurance when she knew this disease would kill her no matter what. He was the only person who’d be willing to do this for her. While everyone dragged out her misery. She couldn’t look her associates in the eyes, knowing that they believed her being comfortable was the answer rather than ending her pain altogether.
“H—-h-ou-se. T—th-a-ank y-you.” She said with all of her energy, sounding nothing louder than a strained whisper. There was a small smile on her face, her eyes lighting up again with life. That sparkle in her eye, House was all too familiar with and missed.
He squeezed her hand, “Rest easy, Thirteen. Tell Kutner I said hi.” He stayed until she took her last breath and her heart stopped. She died with a smile on her face. He left as soon as the tears started to trickle down his face. Before he stepped out of the hospital, he saw her in the corner of his eye. She smiled and waved goodbye before disappearing completely. As if his body was moving on its own, he rode his bike to an unfamiliar house.