A/N: WARNING: Spoliers up to Wac-a-Mole, slight gore, Character Death. Angsty one-shot.
House sat in Wilson's dark office, deep in thought, with his chin resting on his cane. His hands were white knuckled and wrapped around the shaft of the mahogany cane, frustration was written in every line of his tense body. Finally, as if coming to a decision, House lurched to his feet and limped out of the office, face set in steely determination.
"I have a problem. I am addicted to Vicodin. I do not take it for recreation, I take it for pain. I am only here today because of tactics employed by Officer Tritter and now that I have said every thing he has forced me into saying, as far as I am concerned there is no more need for discussion."
House turned and limped out of the courtroom ignoring the judge completely.
"You'll lose your license for this! I'll make sure of it! You'll never practice medicine again! Not here, or anywhere else!"
House faltered slightly, as if caused physical pain by the judge's words, but then straightened and continued on.
In the back of the court, Tritter smiled.
When all of their accounts were unfrozen and Wilson's prescription privileges were reinstated, the team knew that House must've done something monumental. When he didn't come into work all that day, the team was a little concerned but not truly worried yet.
When House didn't show up for three days in a row and no one could contact him, Wilson was sent to his house to check up on him.
So it was Wilson who found House in the macabre scene.
House was seated at his piano, a slight smirk and eyes wide open, glazed over in death. Long gashes length wise from wrist to elbow gaped open on House's forearms. The piano's white keys were stained a sickly red colour and blood stained the entire area around House as well. Pristine white letters, one for each of the Ducklings, Wilson and Cuddy, were laid out carefully on top of the upright's sound box.
Wilson threw up everything in his stomach, dry heaved a few times and then managed to call Cuddy.
House had everything planned out. His entire funeral, how diagnostics should be run without him there, who should get what out of his stuff, everything. Wilson was left numb. House had explained to him in his letter that all House had was their friendship and medicine. Not admitting to everything that Tritter was accusing him of meant losing his friendship with Wilson and potentially losing medicine as well. House decided that while he was nothing without medicine, he was less then nothing without Wilson.
So he had admitted to everything, in front of a court. And then he had killed himself.