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fandomweekly2019-06-15 06:58 pm
smallredboy) wrote in fandomweekly2019-06-15 06:58 pm
Entry tags:
[#018] we're almost here again (House MD)
Theme Prompt: #018 - Stages of Grief
Title: we're almost here again
Fandom: House MD
Rating/Warnings: Canonical character death so presumably spoilers, but the episode it happened in is also 11 years old so, yeah.
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 750
Summary: Wilson deals with Amber's death.
“She can’t be—” Wilson sobs as he holds onto Cuddy tight, wails wracking out of his mouth without a care for if he wants to cry in front of someone or not. Cuddy holds him, rubs his back as he cries. “She can’t be dying,” he says.
“I know how hard it is,” Cuddy mumbles as she holds him, his face buried on the crook of her neck. “I’m so sorry, Wilson.”
“She can’t be dying—!” he whimpers. “I must be dreaming. Please, Lisa, please— please just wake me up.”
She lets out a sob too and envelops him in her arms, soothing him.
“I’m so sorry, James,” she tells him again. “I wish I could tell you this is just a dream.”
“Then tell me,” Wilson insists desperately, gripping at her shirt. “Then tell me.” His voice cracks.
Cuddy shakes her head and more tears slide down his cheeks.
*
When Wilson gets home, he is still numb, his head swimming from Amber’s last words echoing in there. He looks at her note and he’s touched for a fleeting moment before anger hits him like a truck.
He rips the note apart and he heads towards his living room, taking his laptop (well aware important files are there, well aware his sex tape with Amber is there) and throwing it to the floor.
“Why her?” he cries out, kicking the coffee table and letting out a cry of pain. “Why her?”
He’s mad at everyone. At House for not taking the car ride he was offered, at the bus driver who caused all this, at God for allowing this to happen. He’s shaking, his fists clenched as he struggles to breathe.
“Why her?” he says, a little dizzy as his head swims. “Why her of all people?”
God never answers.
*
Maybe it’ll hurt less if he gets away from it all.
He knows it won’t, he knows Amber’s death will haunt him no matter what he does, no matter where he goes, but he still tells House that they were never friends. He still moves away from Princeton, still in the state but not in the city he met and fell for Amber. House obviously doesn’t want him to go, but it hurts too much to even see him.
He prays sometimes, begging God that he’ll have anything, that he’ll let him take anything as long as Amber comes back. He knows God isn’t listening in, but he still hopes for his grief to be all undone. For Amber to knock on the door of his new apartment suddenly.
He dreams of Amber, Amber being alive and House being gone. The guilt overpowers him, but maybe it’d be better then.
*
When the two month mark hits, Wilson hasn’t talked to House in nearly a month and a half, and he hasn’t even bothered with looking for a new job.
It doesn’t matter if he finds a new job or not. He knows he could— there’s plenty of opportunities for oncologists. But he doesn’t want to get a job— he wants to stay in bed all day, to not have anything to do as he mourns Amber.
He hasn’t been able to function apart from when he goes to a nearby bar (always making sure House is nowhere near it) and getting drunk. He sings karaoke with other people, bad love songs he can’t name quite right.
He goes to temple whenever he can, even when the words and the hymns lull him to sleep, to even more sadness than before. He sings along still, as much as it all hurts.
*
He can finally face House four months later, when he hears the news about his father’s passing. He knows how terrible House’s father was, but he still can’t let him go through the mourning process all on his own.
He doesn’t want House to go through what he’s gone through.
“House,” he says as he drives to the funeral home. “I’m taking you to your father’s funeral.”
When House brings up Amber, he still gets twitchy and he still argues, but he doesn’t avoid House. He embraces their friendship and he comes to terms with the truth— House couldn’t have known this would happen when he didn’t let Amber hail a cab for them both.
“This is the most fun I’ve had since she died,” he tells House.
House smiles arrogantly in an I told you so manner, but Wilson knows that he knows just how honest that statement is.
Title: we're almost here again
Fandom: House MD
Rating/Warnings: Canonical character death so presumably spoilers, but the episode it happened in is also 11 years old so, yeah.
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 750
Summary: Wilson deals with Amber's death.
“She can’t be—” Wilson sobs as he holds onto Cuddy tight, wails wracking out of his mouth without a care for if he wants to cry in front of someone or not. Cuddy holds him, rubs his back as he cries. “She can’t be dying,” he says.
“I know how hard it is,” Cuddy mumbles as she holds him, his face buried on the crook of her neck. “I’m so sorry, Wilson.”
“She can’t be dying—!” he whimpers. “I must be dreaming. Please, Lisa, please— please just wake me up.”
She lets out a sob too and envelops him in her arms, soothing him.
“I’m so sorry, James,” she tells him again. “I wish I could tell you this is just a dream.”
“Then tell me,” Wilson insists desperately, gripping at her shirt. “Then tell me.” His voice cracks.
Cuddy shakes her head and more tears slide down his cheeks.
*
When Wilson gets home, he is still numb, his head swimming from Amber’s last words echoing in there. He looks at her note and he’s touched for a fleeting moment before anger hits him like a truck.
He rips the note apart and he heads towards his living room, taking his laptop (well aware important files are there, well aware his sex tape with Amber is there) and throwing it to the floor.
“Why her?” he cries out, kicking the coffee table and letting out a cry of pain. “Why her?”
He’s mad at everyone. At House for not taking the car ride he was offered, at the bus driver who caused all this, at God for allowing this to happen. He’s shaking, his fists clenched as he struggles to breathe.
“Why her?” he says, a little dizzy as his head swims. “Why her of all people?”
God never answers.
*
Maybe it’ll hurt less if he gets away from it all.
He knows it won’t, he knows Amber’s death will haunt him no matter what he does, no matter where he goes, but he still tells House that they were never friends. He still moves away from Princeton, still in the state but not in the city he met and fell for Amber. House obviously doesn’t want him to go, but it hurts too much to even see him.
He prays sometimes, begging God that he’ll have anything, that he’ll let him take anything as long as Amber comes back. He knows God isn’t listening in, but he still hopes for his grief to be all undone. For Amber to knock on the door of his new apartment suddenly.
He dreams of Amber, Amber being alive and House being gone. The guilt overpowers him, but maybe it’d be better then.
*
When the two month mark hits, Wilson hasn’t talked to House in nearly a month and a half, and he hasn’t even bothered with looking for a new job.
It doesn’t matter if he finds a new job or not. He knows he could— there’s plenty of opportunities for oncologists. But he doesn’t want to get a job— he wants to stay in bed all day, to not have anything to do as he mourns Amber.
He hasn’t been able to function apart from when he goes to a nearby bar (always making sure House is nowhere near it) and getting drunk. He sings karaoke with other people, bad love songs he can’t name quite right.
He goes to temple whenever he can, even when the words and the hymns lull him to sleep, to even more sadness than before. He sings along still, as much as it all hurts.
*
He can finally face House four months later, when he hears the news about his father’s passing. He knows how terrible House’s father was, but he still can’t let him go through the mourning process all on his own.
He doesn’t want House to go through what he’s gone through.
“House,” he says as he drives to the funeral home. “I’m taking you to your father’s funeral.”
When House brings up Amber, he still gets twitchy and he still argues, but he doesn’t avoid House. He embraces their friendship and he comes to terms with the truth— House couldn’t have known this would happen when he didn’t let Amber hail a cab for them both.
“This is the most fun I’ve had since she died,” he tells House.
House smiles arrogantly in an I told you so manner, but Wilson knows that he knows just how honest that statement is.