Chapter Text
Part 1
You were standing in front of the graveyards gate. It was wide open so the cars could drive in, but you just stood there, looking at the line that separated the world of living from the world of dead. You clenched your hand, hissing from pain when the thorns of the single red rose, which you held in it, slashed your skin. You didn’t open it, letting this pain to soothe the greater one that made you barely breathe. Your hand was bleeding and small red drops started to fall on the ground. You couldn’t care less right now as you took a deep breath and made a step forward and then another one. Your pace was slow and hesitant. You didn’t want to go there, you didn’t want to see it – the final confirmation that he was gone forever, that you would never see him again, never hear his voice and never see the sparks in his eyes.
At the same time, you felt this unwanted urge to see the tombstone with his name engraved on it. Something in your mind was telling you that it might bring you the peace you wanted, but your heart claimed that the pain would never fade away, that it would remain for the rest of your life, that would be your most faithful companion, shadowing your existence.
You stopped by one of the oaks that were growing along the graveyard’s road, leaning your back on the scabrous bark of its trunk. Your chest hurt, making every breath almost unbearably painful. It took you a while to gather yourself up and made your way to the place where his grave was.
The tombstone was rectangle but the corners were rounded and smooth. Black letters of the engraving were standing out from the gray stone. You made a few steps forward and suddenly your knees gave up on you and you fell on the grass with your free hand pressed tightly to your chest as if it could help you stop the pain you felt from growing bigger. You didn’t realize that you were crying until the first sob let out your mouth. As if it wasn’t agonizing enough, memories flooded your mind, making you to sob even more.
You were at House’s memorial service, not wanting to believe that he was gone, not accepting the fact that he died in the fire. You were sitting alone in the last row, trying as hard as you might not to cry, but you couldn’t get rid of the lump that formed in your throat. You listened to others who wanted to say something about House.
“House hired me when no one else would.”
“He got me fired. He gave the guts to get fired.”
“He gave me the courage to quit.”
“Gregory was – he was a good son.”
“He was a trying boyfriend, but I… never stopped loving him.”
“He was my boss. And… my employee. And both times… I learned from him.”
“He made me a better parent, whether he meant to or not.”
“He was willing to kill me. And I’ll always be grateful.”
“He wasn’t always easy to deal with.”
“But somewhere in there… he knew how to love.”
“He was my friend. The thing you have to remember, the thing you can’t forget, is that Gregory House saved lives.”
Lisa Cuddy didn’t show up. She didn’t even call to anyone, not even to House’s mother. You had never liked her; sometimes you showed that openly. Now you hated her for everything she had done to him, for the pain she had caused. You blamed her for his death, because you couldn’t blame him.
You were the last one who went to the front to say something about your late boss. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.
“Gregory House was my boss,” you started your voice shaky. “And he was my friend, even if he didn’t see it. I’m glad that I could work with him, that I could-” you went silent, tears stopping you from speaking. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled and you just run away, not wanting them to see your despair.
Nobody knew that you fell for House, that you loved him, that you see through his misery and knew him better than anyone else did. You had never told him about your feelings, always hiding them deep inside your heart. His death ripped your heart into pieces, leaving you broken and unable to move on.
Six months later, you were on this graveyard to say your goodbyes again, to have your soul shattered again, to be broken one more time.
“WHY?!” you cried, looking at the tombstone through tears, barely seeing it. “Why are you gone too? Why did you leave me alone? Why didn’t you fight for your life? Why, Wilson, why? You stupid idiot, why?”
You start to hit the stone, destroying the rose and smearing your blood all over the Wilson’s name engraved on it. You wanted him to feel your pain, even if you knew that’s impossible. You couldn’t even see through tears.
Then someone showed up by your side, kneeling beside you, taking you into the arms, and holding you tightly pulled to his chest. You didn’t know how long you were crying, calming down with every sob, while his strong hands were caressing your back.
“Dying is easy, living is hard,” he said and you froze, recognizing his voice.