Chapter Text
Cuddy sat at her desk, filling in some paper work when her thoughts began to wander. It has been a week since she sent Wilson home for rest and she had not heard from him since.
She supposed it wasn't strange for him not to call, after all why would he? They weren't the best of friends. What they had was mostly a professional relationship with a bit of friendliness mixed in.
Certainly not like the relationship between him and House. Even the small bit of friendship they shared was mostly a solidarity in standing against him, like when he was trying to perform an experimental treatment that would probably kill the patient.
Everything has fallen apart without the diagnostician around.
Sighing, she rubbed the bridge of her nose. Surely it wouldn't be rude to call? For all she knows, Wilson might be off on a beach in the Bahamas sipping martinis not wanting to be disturbed, though it does not sound like him at all. He wouldn't take useful time off work to do that, especially not after his best friend's death.
Still, a call couldn't hurt, right? She takes her flip phone out her and dials his number.
It goes straight to voicemail. He probably turned it off, wanting to grieve alone and Cuddy respects that.
She goes back to filling out paper work.
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Work was dull without the differential diagnosis debates, it was the reason Cameron wanted to work for House in the first place. Saving lives was why she got into medicine, but nursing uncooperative drug addicts and dealing with worried parents day in and day out gets pretty boring after a while.
The mystery of each case while working under House was thrilling to say the least. But with him gone, the air hangs heavy in the office as Foreman, the most mature of the ducklings, desperately tries to take his place.
"So, differential diagnosis, people?" He asks attempting and failing to put half of the blind confidence House had in his voice, standing next to the white board marker in hand.
"Maybe lupus?" Chase suggests.
"It's never lupus," Cameron swiftly replies.
Cameron sits with her hands folded on top of each other resting on the desk as awkward silence stretches over them. For what seems like an eternity, none of them know what to do or say.
Usually in times like this, House would drop an offensive comment or insult Chase to keep the differential going, but without him, the room is eerily silent.
Thank God, Cameron thinks when she hears Cuddy knocks on the glass door. The ducklings simultaneously turn their heads in the direction of the sound, as if running on a hive mind.
"Hi, guys," Cuddy says, trying to sound casual. It seems so out of character for her. Cameron is used to her either being professional or authoritarian, but she supposes she is doesn't really know how to address them. They were never really her employees.
"When was the last time any of you have seen Wilson?" She leans against the door frame, not wanting to enter the office. An air of gloom still hangs inside, maybe she doesn't want to be infected, Cameron thinks.
Chase speaks up, lounging in his chair "I saw him at this dingy bar about a week and half ago. Why?"
The remaining ducklings turn to look at Chase, then all resume glaring at her, like piranhas at a piece of juicy meat.
"Oh, I just haven't heard from him in a while and he isn't answering his cell, that's all," she looks miles out of her comfort zone.
"Alright." Cameron answers.
"Thanks, guys." She almost bucks it out of the office.
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"So, guys. It has been two weeks since any of us heard from Wilson." Cuddy states, seated at the office desk trying to look and sound professional while the ducklings sit 'round, judging and staring.
"So what?" Foreman asks "The man is allowed his privacy. Why should we bother him?"
"Yeah," Chase adds, very helpfully.
She tries not to sigh. "It's been two weeks since anyone had contact with him last, he could be dead for all we know!"
"So what do you suggest we do?" Cameron questions "If he is away, we can't contact him and if he is at home, you wouldn't want to bang his door down just to say 'hi'."
"Ok, fine. How about we try calling him again and if he doesn't pick up, we check his apartment?" Cuddy placates.
The ducklings groan collectively.
Cuddy sighs.
"Dibs not it!" Chase quickly shouts.
"If we have to go, we are all going."
Another groan.
Cuddy feels like a kindergarten teacher.
She takes her phone out and dials Wilson's number again.
Once again, it goes straight to voicemail.
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"Ughh, this is sooo boring." Chase complains to Cameron, hands in his pockets as he kicks a pebble by Wilson's doorstep. At the same time, Cuddy is knocking on the door while Foreman rubs his chin with a pensive look.
"Wilson? Are you in there?" Cuddy calls out. There is a faint stench of rot wafting in from under the apartment's door, it doesn't go unnoticed.
"What's that smell?" Cameron asks.
"Oh that's just a sewage leak," Chase answers confidently.
"Certainly doesn't smell like it,"
"You're right, Cameron. Smells more like something is rotting in there. Maybe he accidentally left something in the fridge before he went?" Foreman suggests, still pensive.
"Wait, how do you know it's a sewage leak?" Cuddy turns away from the door to face Chase, with a concerned expression.
"Oh, it smelt a bit funny when I was dropping Wilson off and he said it was a sewage leak. He was kinda freaked out about me coming into the apartment though. Must've smelt real bad in there." Chase shrugs nonchalantly.
If it had already smelt back then... and they still haven't found House's body... was it possible that...?
The realization hit her square in the chest, knocking the breath out of her. It was Wilson. Wilson took House's body. It had to be him. The poor man was so heartbroken at his best friend's death that this is the only way he could cope. And now he left the body to rot? That didn't seem right.
"We have to get that door open."
"How?" Foreman stands, staring the door down like he can open it with his gaze alone.
Cameron speaks up "Chase can knock it down,"
"I sure can!" Chase practically beams.
Cuddy sighs and gestures to the door, stepping away in tandem with Cameron and Foreman "Go ahead,"
Moving back first to make a little more space for himself, Chase runs at the door and slams into it with his shoulder at full force. He falls back to the pavement onto his ass with an audible 'oomph'.
He quickly bounces back up to his feet and undeterred by his last attempt, slams into the door again. With the same result.
Then he does it again.
And again.
The other's stand there and watch him make a fool of himself, Cameron keeping a hand over her mouth to stop herself from bursting out in laughter, Foreman wears a wide smile while Cuddy is stone-faced, the only one having realized the reality of the situation.
When Chase jumps up to try his luck for the fifth time, Cuddy holds out a hand "You can st-"
She is cut off by Chase running into the door at full speed again, this time knocking it loose from it's hinges.
As soon the door is gone, an overwhelming rotten odor hits them. Foreman wrinkles his nose while the others heave and gag.
Foreman clasps his hands together "So! Should we head inside?"
"Give me a second." Cameron says hunched over, leaning against the wall.
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Once they get accustomed enough to the smell, they venture inside.
They walk through the short halls and rooms to find the source of the stench.
Eventually, they make their way to the bathroom to find an absolute horror of a sight before them.
In the bathtub lay two bodies. One so rotted it's barely recognizable, it's only defining feature is the grayish brown hair that has begun to fall out and cluster around it's shoulders.
The other one lay under it, it's arms wrapped around the more decomposed one. This one had brown hair which was still attached to it's scalp.
Despite the other one being visibly fresher, both have maggots crawling and squirming through their slack flesh. Flies buzz around them.
Both Cuddy and Foreman just stand in the doorway, jaws almost hitting the floor from shock. Chase spins on his heel to spit up his lunch while Cameron starts to cry.
"What the hell happened here!?" Cameron yells, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Is...that Wilson?" Foreman looks morbidly curious but does not dare step closer to what could be now considered a crime scene.
"I would think so," Cuddy replies flatly. She knows House and Wilson were close, maybe even a thing, but she didn't know Wilson couldn't live without House. Yet, here she was.
"So he... killed himself?" Cameron chuckles sarcastically through her tears "How romantic."
Chase finishes vomiting, now leaning against the door frame, skin pale and glistening.
"We should call the police." Cuddy demands more than she states.
The ducklings nod simultaneously.
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Wilson finds himself wandering a field with grass as green as the one in the Windows screensaver. Actually, where he finds himself is basically the Windows screensaver, nothing but a green field and blue skies that seem to stretch on forever.
He doesn't remember how long his been here or how long he has been walking. It feels like he has been here forever, but he has no memory of this place so that can't be. He can't feel any tiredness in his legs so can't have been walking for long either.
He can't feel much of anything actually. There are no clouds in the sky and the sun shines down brightly on him, but he doesn't feel it's warmth. He doesn't feel any wind on his skin, nor the smell of grass. He doesn't even hear anything.
Just silence.
Huh, must be some kind of weird dream. Though it all feels so familiar.
So he keeps walking and looses himself in his thoughts until he sees a tree out in the distance.
He runs towards it without thinking twice, something, anything in this green expanse of emptiness. He seems to run forever, but he doesn't feel out of breath, nor does he tire.
Eventually, he makes it to the plain-looking tree. Under it sits a figure he hadn't noticed while running.
It's House, with his grayish brown hair and blue eyes. He rests under the tree with his hand on his forehead, staring up at the sky, seeming to not have noticed Wilson.
"House, is that you?"
House flinches at the sound. After calming himself, he looks up at Wilson who is now staring down at him, his hands on his hips. He stands in front of the sun but casts no shadow over him.
"Who else would it be?"
Wilson basically falls down on top of House, pulling him into a bear hug, tears falling down his face.
"Oh God, House, you are okay!" Wilson nuzzles his head into House's shoulder, crying.
"And you are dead!" House laughs, trying to pull the sobbing and sniffling Wilson away from him.
"...what."
"If you are here, you are dead. Like me," House smiles. He won't be alone for the foreseeable future.
Wilson pauses to think for a moment, but House is impatient.
"Sooo," he drawls on "How did you die? I always imagined something plain and boring to fit a plain and boring guy like you. Cancer?" He smirks, pleased with his joke.
Wilson is still too shaken to register what is going on, so he just snorts.
They lay in each other's arms for a bit, admiring the sun they can't feel.
"Can you see living people from up here?" Wilson asks, still in House's arms.
"What makes you assume we went up?"
They both laugh.
This feels just like the old days. The evenings they'd spend just sharing banter or having a beer. Wilson traces circles in House's arm.
"Have you met anyone else here?"
"Yeah, I have actually. My father, though we passed each other fairly quickly."
House looks down at Wilson in his arms and smiles, wide and bright, something he rarely ever wore in life. The former oncologist notices this and smiles similarly back up at him, smitten.
He leans in for a kiss before he feels House drop him.
"...What are you doing?" House stands looming over Wilson as he lays on the grass. The look in his eye, he almost looks... scared?
"Uhh... kissing you?"
House visibly cringes at that.
Wilson jumps up to meet him at eye level "What, do you not like me- why did you tell me you loved me then?" He rambles off to House.
"I told you what?"
The former oncologist facepalms and mutters under his breath "oh right that wasn't the real you," before lifting his head up to face House and sucking in a steading breath.
"So why did you smile at me like that?"
"What?" House looks like a deer in headlights, staring at him blankly.
"Right now, why did you smile at me like that." He demands more than asks.
"Maybe because I have been stuck in this Windows screensaver ahaha looking place for a week with no actual company," House yells straight into Wilson's face, but Wilson can't feel his breath "and just when I stumble upon my best friend this happens!"
Wilson curls in on himself "oh,"
"I thought that I wouldn't be stuck here alone, but clearly I was too naive." House says quieter.
Wilson's heart breaks.
"Leave." House demands.
Wilson's voice is meek and barely audible "...and go where?"
House yells at him, Wilson has never seen him this angry "I DON'T KNOW! Anywhere but here!"
"But-"
"GET. OUT." He points at the vast field which surrounds them in all directions.
Without another thought, Wilson runs off into the green abyss, keeping his hands over his face to prevent the tears from returning.
House stands under the tree, stone faced with no need for a cane, watching most likely the only person he would want to spend time with in this place run into the endless green expanse. From his stance, House knew he is crying. Chances were, he wouldn't cross paths with Wilson again once he lost sight of him.
As Wilson runs further and further away, he wonders if there is a way to kill himself in the afterlife.