Chapter Text
House was floating.
Above space and time, he sat, waiting for all eternity to pass. He could just wait. Wait, in this soft void that kept a ringing noise around his ears.
There was a sudden sharp pain in his neck. He gasped in shock, trying to clap a hand to the pain, but his body was slow and wouldn’t move. House forced panic down. Above him, he could see bright lights. If he focused, he could hear shouting around him. Why were they shouting? A smile touched his lips.
The world was so peaceful if you closed your eyes….
So he did.
It was later when he awoke- how much later, he couldn’t say, maybe it was a mere minute, or maybe he really had waited out eternity. It was impossible to say.
House soon became aware he had eyes. With effort, he forced them open, and swimming, hazy shapes appeared there, like otters in water.
“House,” a disembodied voice said. “House!” it echoed, pushing all the shapes back, it tripled and then increased by a hundredfold, bouncing off wall to wall to wall. He shrank from it, retreating to the safety of the void.
“House.” This voice was quiet, and it fell softly on his ears. House pushed his eyes open again, and a blurry face became slightly more focused. It had eyes, like him.
Once again, House felt the pain- a stabbing feeling in his neck and stomach. He groaned. There was a rustling sound, a beeping noise, and the pain faded. House sighed in relief.
“Hey.” There was a warmth on his hand, clasped around it, cocooning it and keeping it safe. House suddenly knew he did not like people touching him, but it was so soothing he decided, just once, to let it be.
“Can you hear me?” the voice snorted. A smile touched House’s lips.
“If you’re just pretending to be asleep, and I’m spilling all these feelings for nothing, I am going to kill you,” the voice warned.
He heard another voice then, saying something about giving death threats to patients in the ICU, but he paid it no mind. The void was safe and warm, and the hand and the voice were safe and warm, and despite the numbness in his body, he didn’t believe he had ever felt so protected.
The voice returned. “Apparently, I’m not going to kill you.” There was a pause. “So you can wake up now,” it whispered, and sounded so soft and heartbroken, House couldn’t believe it was talking to him.
“You would mock me if you were awake,” the voice continued. “So I’m going to assume it’s safe to be mushy.”
The lights were bright. One was blue, the other was purple. House liked the colors.
“I care about you,” the grip on his hand tightened. “More than you know.”
House felt the sudden urge to wake up, but the void was becoming heavier and heavier. He needed to say something- sounds passed his lips, but he was not sure what they meant. The blinding white of the void returned, the warmth in his hand faded away- he tried to shout, but every cell in his body was relaxing, as though there was a weight over it.
He was floating…..
~~~~!
When House came to, four anxious doctors were peering over him.
He blinked, but their faces remained. “What’s a guy gotta do to get some space around here?” he rasped. At once, three of them scrambled back.
“You’re back,” the first said. Long, red hair. Concerned expression. Cameron.
“So it appears,” House rumbled. “Where’s Wilson?”
“Here,” the second said. Thick eyebrows, brown hair, teeth marks on his lip. Wilson. House couldn’t help a rush of guilt- Wilson only chewed on his lips when he was really stressed. It must have been bad if he was worrying Wilson.
“How are you feeling?” the third asked. Arms crossed, blond hair, a look of relief of his face. Chase.
“Well, I just got shot,” House said.
“There might be some good news to that,” Cameron offered.
“Ketamine,” the fourth doctor took up the tale. Trimmed bread, dark skin, almost a smirk on his face. Foreman. “You told us to use ketamine before you lost consciousness- for your leg.”
House froze. “So I did. Because you-” his mind was spinning and spinning. “I-” round and round, like a toy at a child’s playground. “Hallucinations,” he concluded, and all four nodded.
Before the void sent him to sleep, House remembered having hallucinations. Cuddy used ketamine on his leg. Cameron was at his bed when he woke up. The guy who shot him was next to him. He punched Wilson. He solved the case. Then he...images of his hands, pushing down on a silver machine- a knife ripping through an already damaged body- he killed the case.
He turned to Wilson. “Your jaw.”
“Is as strong and sculpted as ever,” he confirmed, but there was a questioning look on his face.
House narrowed his eyes. There wasn’t any bruising, or inflammation.
So him punching Wilson was definitely a hallucination. It was safe enough to say the rest of it was, too. Especially that voice part.
House snuck another glance at Wilson. He knew that was Wilson’s voice- he’d recognize it anywhere. It saying I care about you, more than you know, however, was...different.
And most certainly not real.
Not that he wanted it, of course. Besides, that could still be strictly platonic. Just like their friendship.
“Are..you alright?” Cameron asked cautiously.
House ripped his eyes away from Wilson. “Fine. So, do we have another case?”
“You don’t,” Wilson said sternly. “You just woke up from surgery.”
“Aww, Mom!”
“House, you-” Wilson paused, and turned to Cameron, Foreman, and Chase- House’s diagnostic team. “You guys can probably go now.”
Foreman and Cameron scurried away, and Chase followed them- turning back with a slight smirk on his face, which House dutifully ignored.
“How are you?” Wilson asked softly. “Really?”
“My mouth tastes like shit,” House admitted. Smiling, Wilson grabbed a juice box from the bedside table, opened the straw and flaps, and handed it to House.
“Thanks,” he said, the words slightly muffled. The cool apple juice seemed to wipe away the stale, dry taste in his mouth.
Wilson nodded, a slight blush growing on his neck.
“Cute nurse?” House guessed, turning his head to follow Wilson’s gaze. (His neck suddenly started throbbing, and House remembered he had been shot.) Nothing was there.
“No,” Wilson tore his eyes away and they settled on House.
“Right,” House said, somewhat suspicious. “Because you’re married.”
“Actually-” he cleared his throat. “We fought.”
“Again?” House faked surprise.
“I think it was a big one, this time.”
“That opens you up to call these pretty ladies,” House’s brain was assembling all the pieces, but something didn’t add up. The picture wasn’t right- this strange behavior wasn’t right.
“I guess,” Wilson mumbled. If House didn’t know better, he would say Wilson was hurt.
“So-” he patted his stubble. “Two days?”
Wilson nodded. “You gave us quite the fright.”
“What can I say, I’m a daredevil,” House deadpanned. A puzzle piece was missing. Someone had erased a number from the equation. Wilson couldn’t like him. Wilson did not have a silly schoolgirl crush on House. That being said, their hallucination-conversation made no sense. If it didn’t make sense, it must not be real. It was just a hallucination, like all the others.
However, Wilson’s particular behavior was indicating that there was something else here. His shoulders were tighter, as if carrying a burden nobody could see.
“You’re wearing a tie.” It was a nice tie- stupidly bright, candy stripped. House hated it. And he never wanted Wilson to take it off.
“You’re wearing it for someone.”
“Yes, I am. The hospital likes it when we wear ties. That’s how we become heads of departments.”
“I’m not wearing a tie,” House gestured to his thin hospital gown.
Wilson sighed. “You, House, are something special.”