I Will Follow You Into the Dark
Death Cab for Cutie
Chapter 1: Solemn Melodies and Piano Keys
"Wilson?" Cuddy's voice seemed timid and altogether unlike Cuddy. Wilson looked up to see her standing in the doorway her arms crossed, expressing her discomfort.
"Is something wrong, Cuddy?" He sensed it immediately and his mind was already jumping to conclusions.
Cuddy saw this and promptly dissolved Wilson's panic, "No, no, everyone's okay… I just… I need to talk to you about something… important." Wilson wasn't entirely sure what she meant by this, but he was openly relieved that everyone was okay… of course everyone most accurately translates to House. He extended his hand to the chair and Cuddy shut the door slowly and sat down.
"Something's wrong." Wilson observes, frowning slightly. Cuddy doesn't reply and instead, her eyes drift around the room, avoiding eye contact. "You feel guilty about something." Sure, he's no House, but Wilson can still read people, especially those as obvious as Cuddy.
She slowly made eye contact and began to speak, "I'm not sure whether I should tell you or not." Wilson set down his pen and pushed his paperwork aside.
"It's about House." He guessed. No one but House can make Cuddy feel so guilty, he thought, recalling the time House guilt-tripped her into giving him back his parking space. This situation, however, didn't seem so… innocent.
"So… now you're wondering whether you should betray his trust and tell his boyfriend?" Wilson offered, seeing as Cuddy wasn't prone to talking. House and Wilson had been dating for something over a year and Cuddy was the only person officially informed on the relationship, but everyone knew. Actually, House was considerably open about it, which was probably why everyone knew about it. Wilson hadn't really expected him to keep a secret like that anyways.
"He doesn't exactly know I know." Cuddy revealed guiltily. Wilson leaned forward with a raised eyebrow.
"What'd you do? Tap our phone?" Wilson tried to lighten the tension in the air, but the seriousness etched in her face silenced his attempt.
"No, I-," Cuddy paused trying to word it right, "-I was worried about him and I just sort of read his file." Wilson frowned in confusion.
"Medical file." Cuddy replied, quickly glancing at the exit.
"Oh…" Wilson wasn't sure what to say and could only hope Cuddy was overreacting to something minor. His eyes drifted to the table briefly before meeting Cuddy's gaze.
"I…I guess he hasn't told you yet?" She asked, unsure of herself. Wilson shook his head, feeling like he's just hit rock bottom, full force.
"Is he…?" Wilson wasn't sure what he was asking. Probably something along the lines of 'is he dying?' Cuddy was in this deep. There was no turning back now. She sighed before answering.
"It doesn't look too good…" Her voice faded as she tried to focus her eyes on Wilson's. She brought her hand forward revealing a patient file, which Wilson hadn't noticed when she walked in, "…and, knowing House, I guessed he'd keep this to himself."
Wilson silently took the file and briefly hesitated before thumbing through the thick folder to the most recent tests.
Wilson jammed the key into the door to find it already unlocked. He entered their apartment to find the T.V. off and the sofa empty. Wilson felt panicked for a moment until a soft, familiar melody dissolved his fears. He took a step into the apartment to see House sitting at the piano, eyes closed, his fingers hitting each note perfectly. Wilson quietly shut the door and hung up his coat, hoping House would continue playing. He loves it when House plays the piano, seeing as Wilson has no musical talent whatsoever.
Wilson was suddenly reminded of when he thought House had brain cancer. House was playing the piano then too. The only difference is that House isn't faking this time. Wilson slowly moved across the room, so that he was standing next to House. The diagnostician kept playing, but scooted over, and patted the bench beside him. Wilson sat down. Wilson was sure House had never played the song before, but he also knew he recognized it. It was… comforting, but with a sad undertone. The piece was fitting and… Wilson could tell easily what his lover was thinking simply from the solemn melody.
He watched House's fingers dance across the keys before Wilson finally decided to speak up. He opened his mouth, but was silenced by House's voice. "Don't ruin it." Wilson was tempted to frown, but somehow understood. In truth, he'd rather listen to the music too. House returned to his playing and finished the song, finally resting his fingers. Wilson remained silent as House turned his face to the ceiling. "I know what you're going to say." He spoke softly. Wilson didn't reply and only stared at him. "I should've told you and… I was going to. I just didn't want to ruin things." He turned to face Wilson. "I knew you'd start yelling about my damn Vicodin and I'd be the stubborn ass I always am… and then we'd end up not talking to each other for a week or so." House sighed. The room was silent as neither man spoke. "We all knew it'd be the Vicodin that'd kill me… I just never wanted to face it… to think about it."
"I'm not mad." Wilson smiled weakly.
"Well of course not. You're Mr. Compassionate. You deal with people dying all the time." House's voice broke at the word 'dying.'
"You have time." Wilson assured him, leaning into his shoulder.
"Way to be optimistic." House sneered sarcastically, although he didn't hesitate to put his arm around his lover.
"Well, what do you want me to do?" Wilson asked calmly.
"I… don't know." House tried to maintain his indifferent façade, but he couldn't. He couldn't lie to Wilson about this. "I'm… scared." House muttered quietly, unsure of Wilson's reaction.
"Don't be." Wilson reassured him with a small smile. House sighed and continued his rant.
"I've almost died a thousand times… the leg, getting shot-"
"-Sticking knives into wall sockets." Wilson interrupted with a curt smile. House was surprised by Wilson's reaction to the imminent death of his best friend. He seemed to be taking it in stride, while House felt on the verge of falling apart. Everything's just so screwed up.
"Yeah… but I'm not coming back from this." House tried to keep back his emotions, but found the effort futile. "There's no… hope…" House felt pathetic. Death has always been something he could handle, but suddenly, he has so much to lose. "…And I'll miss you." He looked directly at his friend.
"I'll never leave your side. I promise." Wilson replied sincerely, the light smile still on his face.
"Very Romeo and Juliet." House commented, a smile breaking through his light tears.
"Only if you're my Juliet." Wilson joked.
"Well, I am the pretty one." House chuckled softly, staring at the floor.
"We'll be okay." Wilson spoke softly.
"You don't know that." House countered just as quietly.
"Yes, I do." Wilson replied confidently.
"What? God tell you?" House looked up, a mixture of fear and annoyance in his eyes.
"No." Wilson answered without hesitation. "It doesn't matter who, if anyone, is up there. None of that matters." He finished softly.
"People wage wars over that stuff." House pointed out cleverly.
"Yeah, but it doesn't matter." Wilson continued solemnly. "You'll be okay. I promise." House smiled a little.
"I finally see why you're so good at your job." Wilson returned the smile. "Screw the five steps of dying, just get yourself a Wilson."
"You look tired." Wilson changed the subject to his friend's weary appearance.
"Yeah… it's been a long day. I guess we'll save the fun stuff for tomorrow… but don't forget you owe me!" House smirked devilishly, as he stood up and retreated to the bedroom. Wilson wasn't really tired, but followed anyways. When he walked in, House was on the bed, eyes closed. Wilson was going to change out of his work clothes, but decided he'd much rather sink into the covers in front of him.
"Shouldn't you change, Mr. Perfect?" House sneered, his eyes still closed.
"One day you'll run out of adjectives for me." Wilson fell into the bed and grabbed at his share of the covers. House didn't reply and Wilson's mind quickly jumped to the same conclusion House's had. He won't be around long enough to run out of adjectives… It was a stupid connection really, but it seemed the issue wasn't going to be far from their minds. "I love you." Wilson suddenly broke through the uneasy silence. House quickly replied.
"I love myself too."
"Ha ha… funny." Wilson emphasized sarcastically, half-expecting the insincere retort. House sighed, feigning resistance.
"I love you too." He smiled, the sincerity visible in his blue eyes. The silence resumed as House closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.
Wilson could still hear the piano tune ringing in his ears and suddenly his mind arrived on the words to the familiar melody. He smiled in the darkness.
"I'll follow you into the dark." Wilson whispered, giving House a brief, chaste kiss before going to sleep, the lyrics still weaving through his mind.
Love of mine, some day you will die,
But I'll be close behind,
I'll follow you into the dark,
No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white,
Just our hands clasped so tight,
Waiting for the hint of a spark,
If heaven and hell decide,
That they both are satisfied,
Illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs,
If there's no one beside you,
When your soul embarks,
Then I'll follow you into the dark.