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Suicidal
by nem
Title: Suicidal
Author: nem
Rating: PG-13 (for talk about suicide)
Summary: confessions are wheedled, lives forever change, clichs collide...
Disclaimer: Hey, I'm no thief. Borrower only.
Author's note: I love feedback. I apologize for the lack of beta, but I didn't know anyone to ask.
It had not been an average afternoon at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Four patients had seen to that.
The first had been admitted to emergency care with injuries sustained from throwing himself in front of a moving bus. As the vehicle was only going about 20 mph at the time, the patient had suffered a dislocated shoulder, several cracked ribs, and a severe concussion.
The second had ODed on over-the-counter iron supplements. A nurse in emergency care had his stomach pumped before there was any permanent damage.
The third had slit her wrists. "Look, Wilson! A cliche!" House had exclaimed when he saw her wheeled into the hospital. "She's even sixteen and thirty pounds underweight. This is great," he added as his friend glared at him. The cuts hadn't been especially deep, so she was kept from bleeding out with relative ease.
The fourth was a terminal cancer patient who'd jumped off the roof of the hospital. Wilson wasn't her primary, but as head of the oncology department, he'd consulted on her case and spoken with her every now and then during the two weeks she'd been at PPTH. He tried not to take it too hard, but it was difficult for him.
"5:03 PM, Dr. House checks out. Write that down."
"It's not even 4:30," the nurse shot back as she handed him a patient file. At that moment, House saw a very dejected-looking Dr. Wilson heading to the door with his briefcase.
"You can keep, that. I found a patient." House left her standing there with the file and hurried to catch up with Wilson.
"Skipping your last class? Wanna play hooky at the movies? We could go to the arcade."
"House, there were four suicide attempts this afternoon. Four! Just this afternoon. Or didn't you notice?"
"Correction-there were three suicides attempts this afternoon. And one suicide success."
Wilson winced at his friend's glib tone and started to walk toward the door again.
"Hey." Wilson stopped, waiting for it.
"Wanna come over later? There's a monster truck rally on ESPN2. You can bring the beer."
Wilson nodded slightly before he exited the hospital.
House went back to the nurse's station. "What time is it now?"
"Four..." she glanced at her watch, "thirty-three."
"Fine," House sighed. "Write this down: 4:33 PM, Dr. House now looks exactly like Dr. Cameron. Look, there he goes now!" House pointed across the room at Cameron/House and turned to go to his office and gather his things.
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He heard a knock on the door. Without looking up from the television, he shouted, "You have a key, use it! Or do you enjoy torturing cripples with unnecessary pain?"
"Not all cripples, just the ones who torture me first," was Wilson's response when he closed the door behind him.
He placed the six-pack on the coffee table, grabbed one for himself, and sat heavily at his end of the couch. "Who's winning?"
"Well, they're pretty much all in pieces at this point, so it's kind of hard to tell. Full Metal Jacket's doing okay, and Prison Princess...nevermind," House replied as a hot pink truck was crushed against the wall of the arena.
They sat watching the monster trucks crush random objects and each other for a while, sipping their beers. The rally was nearly over.
"Some day, huh?" Wilson asked.
"Well, I like to think I make every day delightful, but I felt like I was really in the zone today. I'm flattered you noticed."
"Do you ever think about suicide?" Wilson inquired quietly.
"I thought you were of the opinion that I enjoyed being miserable."
"House."
"Suicide's interesting. It's an anomaly. Always fun to try to unravel an anomaly, figure out what the trigger was."
"You're talking about other people's suicides."
"Well, duh, aren't you?"
"Oh, yeah, of course," Wilson replied hastily as he reached for another beer. There was a moment of silence in which House finally figured out what his friend was getting at.
"Wilson." There was no response.
"Wilson, you brought this up for a reason."
"Just making conversation, is that a crime?"
"Yes, and I'll be contacting the police to fill out an incident report so this matter can be brought to justice and the responsible party be held accountable." House finally looked at his friend. "As soon as you tell me why you want to kill yourself."
"Are you insane? If anyone here's depressed, it's you. Let's just watch the end of the show, forget I said anything."
"Stop evading."
"I'm not evading, you're reading stuff into this that isn't there!" Wilson snapped back.
"You're defensive. I'm onto something." House almost smiled, pleased at finding out something he wasn't supposed to know.
"Just stop it, okay? Just shut up," Wilson said, then grabbed the empties off the coffee table and stalked off to the kitchen to throw them away. By the time he turned around to go back to the living room, House was leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe.
"Damnit, House! You scared me. How did you even get over here that fast? Nevermind," he said as he moved toward the doorway. He didn't get very far, as House was blocking it, looking at him expectantly, and clearing not about to budge.
"I don't want to kill myself, okay? Get out of the way."
"You mean, not anymore."
Wilson sighed. "You're right. You're right, now would you get out of the way?"
House moved out of the doorway and held his arm out, gesturing "after you" and followed his friend back to the couch. They sat staring ahead in silence for a few moments.
"Well?" Wilson could see that House wasn't going to let this go. Not without the whole story. He decided it would be best to get it over quickly, like pulling off the proverbial band-aid.
"When I was seventeen, my parents found out I had a boyfriend." He ignored House wide eyes and furrowed brow and continued.
"They went completely crazy, my father said he was sending me to military school. I thought my life was ruined, I didn't know what else to do, so I tried to kill myself. It didn't work out how I planned, and when I got back home from the hospital, my father was still ready to ship me off to military school. My mom was scared and so was I, and we convinced him I would change my ways and become a good, normal, straight boy if he would just please, please not send me to military school."
He looked at House, adding, "And they all lived happily ever after."
House faltered for a moment, speechless.
"You're gay?" This was a whole new ball game, so to speak. Wilson was gay, and everything was going to be fine now. Great, maybe.
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of NBC/Universal, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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