House MD: Never Forget (House/Wilson)

[awritinglilypea]

Title: Never Forget
Fandom: House MD
Prompt: #6 Forgotten in my table for ships50 here
Word Count: 504
Rating: PG
Warning/Spoilers: Contains severe angst. Also spoilers for 5.04 Birthmarks, but nothing you wouldn’t learn from the episode summary.
Summary: His father was dead…Does it matter?

My father is dead.

It stunned him enough that he moved backward without realizing it and sank onto the couch, the phone still in his hands as he blinked in what he imagined to be a rather idiotic and owlish manner.

My father is dead.

He didn’t know what he was supposed to feel. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do, but despite what his mother had asked him he could not…would not go to the funeral. How could he? How could he even be expected to attend the funeral of a man who had abused him so much?

My father is dead.

House had lived his entire life wanting to be forgotten, wanting to forget his father. It was almost karmic payback when Wilson moved on, when Wilson put so much effort into forgetting him. It was not how he had imagined anything turning out in his life; in fact, he doubted that anything, either than his ability to practice medicine and work out puzzles that no one else could had turned out the way he wanted.

So his father was dead…

He knew logically that he should feel some strange sense of loss. He saw It on the faces of the families of patients he had lost…Lost…It was an interesting euphemism, as though he had somehow misplaced the man he had tried so hard to avoid. He had lost nothing.

Wilson.

House had lost everything. It had nothing to do with his father and suddenly it hit him like a ton of bricks, weighing him down and making it hard to breathe. He took in a deep breath, just to see if he could and let it out slowly.

Pain hit him, pulling him deeper into the hole he’d just dug for himself and he suddenly couldn’t breathe any longer and hunched over as though he was trying to protect himself from it but this pain wasn’t physical. It was his own doing; he had done something stupid, so stupid it had cost Amber her life, and him his best friend…his companion.

His fingers twitched almost reflexively. He had Wilson’s new number; he could call him and tell him what had happened.

House couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t bring himself to use his mother’s loss to get his friend back, he just couldn’t

Leaning back on the couch, House closed his eyes, pressing the heels of his hands there in an effort to stop them from burning, to stop the liquid from escaping.

By the time he moved again his back was stiff and his thigh cramped in a way it hadn’t in a long time, he managed to heave himself off of the couch and stumbled falling onto the ground with a shout of pure agonized pain.

He lay there, wishing Wilson was there…wishing he wasn’t the one who had to be forgotten, who had to be pushed away.

Because with a mind like House’s…

He would never forget…

My father is dead.

It didn’t matter.