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Title: Almost Dying - Chapter 1: Two Months (Part 1)
Pairing: House and Wilson Friendship
Rating: R
AN: Inspired by [livejournal.com profile] sassyjumper's amazing fic A Normal Reaction.



He remembers the wave of relief that washed over him when he saw House smirking at him as he sat on the concrete steps.

He recalls the hope that rose in his chest, the sound of his heart pounding in his ears as he read the text message, a sarcastic tone that could only belong to one person.

He can still hear the obnoxious ringtone during the eulogy he attempted to give, the impatience at waiting for someone to turn off their damn cellphone.

He can still smell the smoke and feel the heat from the flames from the fire that swallowed up his friend.

When Foreman had entered his office that morning, he had known that something awful had happened. He had known that House would do something stupid, reckless. He had been the guy's only friend for twenty years and if he didn't expect that sort of thing by now, then how well did he really know House?

What he doesn't remember, is how he felt. How did he feel when he discovered that House was dead?

As he lay flat on his back in the two-bed motel room that House and he had rented for the night, he found that he couldn't remember.

He reasoned that his memory difficulties made sense. House had never truly been dead, so the reality of it had never sunk in for him. There was no sadness, he knew that much. There wasn't even really anger, despite the harsh tone of his voice as he gave the eulogy. He knew he hadn't felt frightened, or even numb. Numbness, he certainly would have been able to identify. No precense of feeling. No absence of feeling. So what then, had he felt?

He closed his eyes tightly. He had always felt a sense of heaviness in his chest, a weight that had never really gone away since Danny's disappearance. He had grown so accustomed to it that he often didn't realize it was there. He thought back to the sound of Foreman knocking at his office door, the worry in the other man's eyes. He recalled the strong scent of ash, the bright orange and loud boom of the explosion. He remembered the expression on House's face, the loss in his gaze, the faltering of his step.

Wilson's eyes flew open, and all at once he knew what he had felt.

Guilt.
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August 2013

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