Lomeinie
Cadet
A/N: This is the first House fic I ever wrote and is the direct prequel to Getting Out of Reverse.
Happiness
By Lomeinie
Pairing: House/Wilson FS
Rating: PG (angst, not a happy fic despite the title)
Spoilers: S4 finale spoilers; maybe one or two for the S5 promos but nothing beyond that
Words: 857
Disclaimer: House belongs to Fox and David Shore. I just borrowed the boys for awhile without making a thing so sue me not please!
A/N: Written for dark_wilson's drabble prompt table - prompt #69.
For Dreamsofspike, who for better or worse encouraged me to give this a shot and for being more help than she knows. Thanks for the beta job, hon!
0o0
There was a time when James Wilson wanted to see his friend's status as the most miserable human being he'd ever met alleviated. There was a time when James Wilson would have – and had – done anything that was necessary to help his friend achieve a small measure of happiness, no matter how fleeting, unappreciated, or in vain his efforts ultimately had proven to be.
Any kind of hope they might have had to fix things between them was irrevocably lost when Wilson was forced to take the woman he loved off bypass. With each button he had pressed, the more certain Wilson had grown in the knowledge that he would never be concerned for or with House again.
The warm love he had felt for Amber had died with her, and was replaced with arctic cold hatred for House.
Wilson didn't care about House, his misery or his well being… and he told him as much.
The confrontation came a month later, after he announced that he was leaving Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital for a new job that would relocate him to the other side of the country. House had sauntered into his office during the last stages of his packing.
"You're being an idiot!"
Wilson had not spoken a word to him since the night he had asked House to put his life on the line for Amber. If given a chance, he knew he would have left for his new life without ever speaking another word to House. He thinks that if he doesn't acknowledge House and keeps packing, maybe he'll go away.
"Wilson. . ."
Or not.
It's the realization that he's not going to let Wilson leave without making a scene that causes Wilson to finally turn a cold stare in House's direction. It amazes him how quickly you can come to hate so deeply the sight of someone you once cared about.
"So says the world's most self-centered, self-absorbed jerk!" Wilson snapped back, not really wanting to have this conversation.
"You're leaving because CB died?"
The hatred Wilson felt went up another notch, hearing House speak the abbreviated form of his nickname for Amber. "Don't ever call her that to me again. She had a name and was a person – a wonderful human being who'll never have the life she deserved because of you!" Wilson picked up the speed of his packing, not caring if he damaged the items in the process. The need to get away from House had become so great that he knew he'd be physically ill if he did not leave this room soon.
As he finished the task, his anger, pain, and the urge to get away from House loosened his lips further. The words he had wanted to say ever since Amber had died in his arms came pouring out, and later when he thought back on them, Wilson never would have believed that such venom toward another person could reside inside his soul.
Wilson shoved the last items into the box, taking little care with the last item, a gift from one of his cancer kids who hadn't won the battle. He picked the box up and turned to look House in the eye.
"Let me make something perfectly clear to you, House. Amber's death is only one reason I am leaving Princeton and this hospital. Losing her is a big reason for me leaving, but it's far from being the main reason. I'm leaving because I can't stand the sight of you anymore. I find you more revolting, more disgusting than the worst murderer on death row. If it's even possible for an oncologist to see something more horrible than the deadliest form of cancer, then you are it."
Wilson's voice was rising with every syllable he spoke. In the office next door, House's team had stopped what they were doing and were now staring awkwardly at the walls.
"If I never see you again once I leave this room, it'll be too soon. I hate you, House, like I've never hated anyone before in my life. You are a cancer on the human race, and you deserve every second of the misery you've created for yourself. Who knows? Maybe we'll all get lucky one day and wake up to the news that Greg House has finally managed to kill himself. Maybe your liver will finally be shot from all those years of Vicodin addiction. Or maybe it'll be from some stupid stunt to satisfy your curiosity. Or maybe you'll just say the wrong thing to the wrong person and they'll blow your brains out. The point is, House, I don't care anymore. I'm done with you. You're worthless, and not worth the effort anymore. Maybe you never were."
House just stood there with his head bowed, as Wilson pushed past him, nearly knocking his former friend off his feet. While he was saying those awful things, it had felt good to see the hurt in his former friend's eyes. But by the time he had reached the elevator, Wilson knew.
He was no better a person than the one he had just thrown away.
Happiness
By Lomeinie
Pairing: House/Wilson FS
Rating: PG (angst, not a happy fic despite the title)
Spoilers: S4 finale spoilers; maybe one or two for the S5 promos but nothing beyond that
Words: 857
Disclaimer: House belongs to Fox and David Shore. I just borrowed the boys for awhile without making a thing so sue me not please!
A/N: Written for dark_wilson's drabble prompt table - prompt #69.
For Dreamsofspike, who for better or worse encouraged me to give this a shot and for being more help than she knows. Thanks for the beta job, hon!
0o0
There was a time when James Wilson wanted to see his friend's status as the most miserable human being he'd ever met alleviated. There was a time when James Wilson would have – and had – done anything that was necessary to help his friend achieve a small measure of happiness, no matter how fleeting, unappreciated, or in vain his efforts ultimately had proven to be.
Any kind of hope they might have had to fix things between them was irrevocably lost when Wilson was forced to take the woman he loved off bypass. With each button he had pressed, the more certain Wilson had grown in the knowledge that he would never be concerned for or with House again.
The warm love he had felt for Amber had died with her, and was replaced with arctic cold hatred for House.
Wilson didn't care about House, his misery or his well being… and he told him as much.
The confrontation came a month later, after he announced that he was leaving Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital for a new job that would relocate him to the other side of the country. House had sauntered into his office during the last stages of his packing.
"You're being an idiot!"
Wilson had not spoken a word to him since the night he had asked House to put his life on the line for Amber. If given a chance, he knew he would have left for his new life without ever speaking another word to House. He thinks that if he doesn't acknowledge House and keeps packing, maybe he'll go away.
"Wilson. . ."
Or not.
It's the realization that he's not going to let Wilson leave without making a scene that causes Wilson to finally turn a cold stare in House's direction. It amazes him how quickly you can come to hate so deeply the sight of someone you once cared about.
"So says the world's most self-centered, self-absorbed jerk!" Wilson snapped back, not really wanting to have this conversation.
"You're leaving because CB died?"
The hatred Wilson felt went up another notch, hearing House speak the abbreviated form of his nickname for Amber. "Don't ever call her that to me again. She had a name and was a person – a wonderful human being who'll never have the life she deserved because of you!" Wilson picked up the speed of his packing, not caring if he damaged the items in the process. The need to get away from House had become so great that he knew he'd be physically ill if he did not leave this room soon.
As he finished the task, his anger, pain, and the urge to get away from House loosened his lips further. The words he had wanted to say ever since Amber had died in his arms came pouring out, and later when he thought back on them, Wilson never would have believed that such venom toward another person could reside inside his soul.
Wilson shoved the last items into the box, taking little care with the last item, a gift from one of his cancer kids who hadn't won the battle. He picked the box up and turned to look House in the eye.
"Let me make something perfectly clear to you, House. Amber's death is only one reason I am leaving Princeton and this hospital. Losing her is a big reason for me leaving, but it's far from being the main reason. I'm leaving because I can't stand the sight of you anymore. I find you more revolting, more disgusting than the worst murderer on death row. If it's even possible for an oncologist to see something more horrible than the deadliest form of cancer, then you are it."
Wilson's voice was rising with every syllable he spoke. In the office next door, House's team had stopped what they were doing and were now staring awkwardly at the walls.
"If I never see you again once I leave this room, it'll be too soon. I hate you, House, like I've never hated anyone before in my life. You are a cancer on the human race, and you deserve every second of the misery you've created for yourself. Who knows? Maybe we'll all get lucky one day and wake up to the news that Greg House has finally managed to kill himself. Maybe your liver will finally be shot from all those years of Vicodin addiction. Or maybe it'll be from some stupid stunt to satisfy your curiosity. Or maybe you'll just say the wrong thing to the wrong person and they'll blow your brains out. The point is, House, I don't care anymore. I'm done with you. You're worthless, and not worth the effort anymore. Maybe you never were."
House just stood there with his head bowed, as Wilson pushed past him, nearly knocking his former friend off his feet. While he was saying those awful things, it had felt good to see the hurt in his former friend's eyes. But by the time he had reached the elevator, Wilson knew.
He was no better a person than the one he had just thrown away.
