Just One Week, 8/9
Mar. 21st, 2011 07:28 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
damigellaBack to Chapter 7
Chapter 8 Sunday
Breakfast on Sunday morning was a very sad business.
House and Wilson looked forlornly at each other, each of them toying with toast. Wilson didn’t feel safe cooking after having slept less than two hours during the night. He had tried to move as little as possible, so House was properly rested, but he was bothered both by a nagging sense of guilt and, deeper down, by an annoying sensation that he was feeling guilty towards the wrong person and that he should consider why.
“Wilson, let’s stop pretending we're having breakfast. I’m bored.”
The oncologist tried hard to think, his throbbing headache not being a very big help. Hopefully the prescription strength painkiller would kick in soon. But finally he came up with something. “Why don’t we rent a canoe and go paddling? It’s a beautiful day and some fresh air will do us good.”
“Why not? It’s also a great sport for a cripple.”
*****
Fitting House in the canoe had required some ingenuity, especially since the cane had to stay at the rental shed. Once this was done, though, it was obvious that he was much better than Wilson at paddling, and he occasionally told his companion to just pull in his oar and rowed alone.
The day was indeed beautiful and sunny. They decided to row against the current, so as to have it favorable on the way back. They had bought sandwiches and brought enough for a picnic on the riverbank. They didn’t talk while paddling, except at the beginning when House tried to raise Wilson’s paddling style, as he put it, from the disastrous into the mildly pathetic level.
House obviously enjoyed the physical effort, and was in fact considering whether it would be reasonable to buy a canoe and do this on a regular basis. Wilson was aching all over after the first thirty minutes, but he gritted his teeth when he saw (by occasionally turning around) how relaxed and happy House was.
At lunch they carefully avoided the mention of any delicate topic; mostly Wilson talked about his family’s small sailboat when he was a teenager, and House about his rowing team experience in college. After lunch, they relaxed in the sun and Wilson had a nap, while House looked at him and thought.
Then it was time to go back; Wilson had to admit his back was killing him (as he was sitting in front of House he couldn’t really hide it) so House with the help of the current brought them back at the little beach in front of the rental booth while his friend rested. The rental guy brought the canoe on land, and Wilson helped House to get out and handed him his cane.
They went back to the condo and ordered takeout.
******
They had finished dinner, and were now sitting together on the couch. The television was switched off. Wilson had leaned his head against House’s shoulder, and House was stroking his hair. They both knew they shouldn’t be doing this, but it was impossible to resist this simple comfort.
Suddenly, House spoke. “I’ve been thinking today. On the canoe. And while you were sleeping.” Wilson lifted his head, and looked at him.
“If there were no Cuddy...” He was struggling for words. “We could try.”
Wilson smiled sadly. “We should have tried before."
“We should have.” House stood up and took his jacket. “I think I should be going home now.”
"Of course." Wilson looked heartbroken. “I’ll drive you.”
Ten minutes later he stood in House’s living room, having brought his suitcase into the bedroom for him.
“It was a beautiful week, Wilson. Please don’t blame yourself.”
“I’ll try. It was just one week after all.” House felt that it took Wilson all of his strength to walk out and into his car. He looked through the window and saw the oncologist sitting in the parked car for a while, before he finally started the engine and drove away.
Chapter 9
Chapter 8 Sunday
Breakfast on Sunday morning was a very sad business.
House and Wilson looked forlornly at each other, each of them toying with toast. Wilson didn’t feel safe cooking after having slept less than two hours during the night. He had tried to move as little as possible, so House was properly rested, but he was bothered both by a nagging sense of guilt and, deeper down, by an annoying sensation that he was feeling guilty towards the wrong person and that he should consider why.
“Wilson, let’s stop pretending we're having breakfast. I’m bored.”
The oncologist tried hard to think, his throbbing headache not being a very big help. Hopefully the prescription strength painkiller would kick in soon. But finally he came up with something. “Why don’t we rent a canoe and go paddling? It’s a beautiful day and some fresh air will do us good.”
“Why not? It’s also a great sport for a cripple.”
*****
Fitting House in the canoe had required some ingenuity, especially since the cane had to stay at the rental shed. Once this was done, though, it was obvious that he was much better than Wilson at paddling, and he occasionally told his companion to just pull in his oar and rowed alone.
The day was indeed beautiful and sunny. They decided to row against the current, so as to have it favorable on the way back. They had bought sandwiches and brought enough for a picnic on the riverbank. They didn’t talk while paddling, except at the beginning when House tried to raise Wilson’s paddling style, as he put it, from the disastrous into the mildly pathetic level.
House obviously enjoyed the physical effort, and was in fact considering whether it would be reasonable to buy a canoe and do this on a regular basis. Wilson was aching all over after the first thirty minutes, but he gritted his teeth when he saw (by occasionally turning around) how relaxed and happy House was.
At lunch they carefully avoided the mention of any delicate topic; mostly Wilson talked about his family’s small sailboat when he was a teenager, and House about his rowing team experience in college. After lunch, they relaxed in the sun and Wilson had a nap, while House looked at him and thought.
Then it was time to go back; Wilson had to admit his back was killing him (as he was sitting in front of House he couldn’t really hide it) so House with the help of the current brought them back at the little beach in front of the rental booth while his friend rested. The rental guy brought the canoe on land, and Wilson helped House to get out and handed him his cane.
They went back to the condo and ordered takeout.
******
They had finished dinner, and were now sitting together on the couch. The television was switched off. Wilson had leaned his head against House’s shoulder, and House was stroking his hair. They both knew they shouldn’t be doing this, but it was impossible to resist this simple comfort.
Suddenly, House spoke. “I’ve been thinking today. On the canoe. And while you were sleeping.” Wilson lifted his head, and looked at him.
“If there were no Cuddy...” He was struggling for words. “We could try.”
Wilson smiled sadly. “We should have tried before."
“We should have.” House stood up and took his jacket. “I think I should be going home now.”
"Of course." Wilson looked heartbroken. “I’ll drive you.”
Ten minutes later he stood in House’s living room, having brought his suitcase into the bedroom for him.
“It was a beautiful week, Wilson. Please don’t blame yourself.”
“I’ll try. It was just one week after all.” House felt that it took Wilson all of his strength to walk out and into his car. He looked through the window and saw the oncologist sitting in the parked car for a while, before he finally started the engine and drove away.
Chapter 9
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no subject
Date: 2011-03-21 12:25 am (UTC)That final image of Wilson sitting alone in the car will be with me all evening.
I enjoyed the allusion to HL's rowing in college. (Mmm, House rowing.) Just FYI, in the U.S. we call it "crew" rather than "rowing team."
no subject
Date: 2011-03-21 12:34 am (UTC)If I had put House in the front on the canoe, I don't think Wilson could have behaved himself :-).
"Just FYI, in the U.S. we call it "crew" rather than "rowing team.""
I should write Harry Potter fanfic.