Title: What Goes On
Author: Wing Pikepaw
Rating: T for language
Genre: Drama
Summary: After finding House overdosed and drunk on Christmas Eve, Wilson gets in a car accident on the way home and ends up in physical therapy in the same facility where House is doing rehab. Trapped together against their wishes, the two are forced to examine their friendship. (AH, set to Beatles music)
Author's Note: Huzzah for first House fics! Be gentle? Incidentally, as the title may or may not indicate depending on your level of musical knowledge, I've decided to set this story to Beatles music, so we'll see how this works out with a combination of genius…

Prologue

She Said She Said

'she said, i know what it's like to be dead, i know what it is to be sad'

Strange that I hate myself but I can't hate House.

The snow is coming down heavy, a real blizzard, blurring the traffic lights to blobs of colour, and all I can see is him lying on the floor in a pool of his own vomit. Overdosed. Disgusting. My best friend the drug addict lying there, mostly a drug addict, still my best friend, though I didn't realise it at the time. And now…

The road is slippery – I can feel the tires trying to bite the pavement and failing, but I squint and I can see the sidewalk so it's okay but it's not because I left him there. His only friend left him there on Christmas. The only friend who had asked for his company and was scoffed at hours before…and I can still forgive him…why can I do that?

'i said, who put all these things in your head? things that make me feel like I'm mad…'

Your Honour, he needs the pills, he's miserable, he's messed up, he's an addict, he's a good doctor, he's my best friend, please don't send him to jail, I'll go instead…

I have a way out. My car. My money. My home. My job. Everything except one screwy friend who I can't live without, and now I don't know what to do. You can have a life, Dr. Wilson. He's taking you down with him. Well, maybe I'm letting him, Detective Tritter. Maybe I don't care, because he can do what he likes and he knows he'll always have me, but what happens when he doesn't? I can't decide I can't decide – and I'm crying, God, so fucking stupid…

'i said, even if you know what you know, i know that I'm ready to leave'

The blob of colour at the next intersection is hard to find through tears and snow. Christmas lights everywhere. Christmas lights. But you're Jewish. Want to come to a Hanukah party? People rather than pills. Green light? Red light? Yellow light? White light? Blue light? Purple light? Headlights?

Accelerator. Fuck traffic direction. Fuck House. And then the problem's solved anyways, because the lights suddenly go out.

'and you're making me feel like i've never been born'

(she said she said
lennon/mccartney
revolver
1965)