Changing The Future
Rating: PG-13 (death stuff, naughty words)
Characters/Pairings: House character study. House/Wilson and House/Cameron if you squint.
Word Count: 661
Summary: Set post-"97 Seconds". What happened when House put the knife in the socket?
Disclaimer: I don't own 'House MD' or any of the characters in this fic.
A/N: Unbeta'd (if you see any mistakes please shout). Apologies for any medical inaccuracies and English-isms. Also, my characterisation of House in this is awful so I apologise in advance for that. So to sum up, I hate this fic but thought it was worth posting anyway.
I can't believe I'm doing this. Diaries are for hormonal teenage girls, 30-something-virgins and various social rejects (if anyone dares comment on that I will kill you) but I need to write this down. Wilson keeps on asking me what I saw, Cameron keeps on giving me those annoying "worried" looks, the new idiots employees look at me as if I'm about to do a One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest style mental breakdown, and of course Cuddy's too damn busy giving me disapproving looks to care. So it's their fault that I've resorted to this…
An idiot walked into the clinic yesterday tried to kill himself in front of me (probably not the first time that's happened). I spoke to him later, said he wasn't trying to kill himself, he just wanted to feel "it" again. That whole "near death experience", "there's something out there" kind of "it". What complete and utter bullshit. Every doctor knows (perhaps excluding Chase) that NDEs can be explained scientifically. The "light at the end of the tunnel" that some people see is just the brain shutting down, low oxygen levels can produce hallucinations and mixed with the endorphins and serotonins which are released, can create realistic visions. I'll save you from the hardcore medical talk, but long (and boring) story short, there is no afterlife. But I wanted to know for sure. I thought it would be interesting to experience a NDE myself, so I did what the twat in the clinic did and put the knife in a socket.
There was pain and then…there was nothing. Nothing but black and silence and...nothing. But it wasn't an eerie silence. It was the good kind of silence, like the beautiful quiet when Chase finally shuts up, or the moment just after a Ryan and Marissa kiss in The O.C. It was almost a comforting silence. It was peaceful and I had no thoughts, I just knew everything was going to be alright. Maybe there is an afterlife, maybe there isn't, and in that moment I really didn't care.
But then something strange happened. I saw in my head an image of a crippled old man – me, many years from now. I was hunched over on an old chair, cane slung to one side and my head in my hands. Somehow I knew I was dying. I was terrified and there was this overwhelming feeling of loneliness which wouldn't go away. I was taking my final breath and no one was there to hold my hand.
I don't want that to be my future. Cameron always said I would end up dying alone, and I suppose she was right. But she also said that change is good, and maybe I do have time to change.
Anyway, the next thing I knew I was waking up in hospital and telling Wilson I love him. The things you say after a NDE, huh? But I do love him, he's my best friend, and I haven't quite figured out why he puts up with me. I want to try and be there for him more often, and maybe start treating the others better too, because if I keep treating people like crap then they'll be no one left. I thought I liked being alone but the idea of not even having Wilson…it scares me.
The truth is, I'm scared of changing. Terrified, in fact. But I need to if I'm to stop the vision from coming true. Who cares if it was simply a figment of my imagination? It made me realise that I need to appreciate who I have and to let people in, even if it's just a little bit. (And if I ever sounded more like a crazy shrink, that would be it. I'm going to kill you Wilson – or any other nosy bastard for that matter – if you ever read this)
The point is, I need to change. I just hope it's not too late.
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