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sick_wilson2014-06-17 05:47 pm
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My Best Friend is a Ghost Chapter Two (working title)
Title: My Best Friend is a Ghost (working title)
Summary: House and Wilson are traveling across the country, following the series finale of House. In this story, I explore the possibility that the end of the episode wasn’t exactly what we thought it was. What if House died in the drug den fire, and came back as a ghost? How would they handle things when House leaves the Casper stage and becomes something a bit more dangerous?
Rating: PG-13 to be safe. There's nothing hard core in here but it's definitely not for the young and/or sensitive.
Warnings: OOC, and AU, spoilers for season eight, crossover fic, and it’s not slash but they have a close friendship and there is a bit of non-sexual cuddling. I have no right to the show House or to anything to do with Supernatural, Fox, the CW, or any of the actors. Also, I changed the timeline of the show. I have House and Wilson still traveling in December of 2012, but they have been on the road for quite a while so I just pushed the diagnosis forward a bit, so that I could include the cold/winter weather.
Additional Note: This eventually turns into a Supernatural Crossover but I'm not sticking 100% to the rules of either universe.
Words: About 4,000 so far
Chapter One
“You can’t be a ghost,” I shouted, gasping for air—only this time it wasn’t because of my cancer. I think I was having a panic attack. “Maybe I am hallucinating and going out of my mind because you died… Oh god, those can’t be my only options, can they?” I collapsed onto the bed. “This is so much more terrifying than I had expected.”
“Honestly, and you know how much I hate to admit this, but I think I am a ghost. I think I have to be, because of the TV and all other things I’ve broken and screwed up. Of course, if I were hallucination you would probably want me to think I was a ghost. Since I didn’t believe in ghosts or the afterlife when I was alive, my thinking I’m a ghost is actually more of a sign that I am a hallucination,” he explained.
“But what about the TV?” House rolled his eyes, and then turned his focus towards my new television set. He stared at it intensely, as if he could intentionally cause it to explode. Nothing happened.
“I’m not Carrie. Look, I’m just saying, you could be completely insane. Which might be a good thing, because then I don’t have to worry about being stuck like this when you die.” House didn’t seem to believe what he’d just said, however.
“You don’t want t believe you’re a ghost because it would mean you have a soul. If ghosts and souls exist, there must be some kind of afterlife, which means god is almost certainly real. It would mean you got all your core beliefs wrong.” He looked a tiny bit scared, but also annoyed. It seemed like he was waffling between ‘of course I’m a ghost,’ and ‘there’s no such thing, you crazy idiot,’ which made sense because in either case House—or my own approximation of him—would be freaking out in a situation like this one, dead or alive.
“And you only want me to be a ghost because you’re afraid of being crazy more than you’re afraid of dying. Plus, if I am a spirit, you won’t have to be alone when you do bite it.” House stood up, limped over to the TV and punched it, but his hand went straight through the screen.
“Why don’t we stop psychoanalyzing each other and try to work things out together?” I suggested. “I don’t know what’s happening here, but I am pretty sure you are just as frightened and confused as I am.” Greg didn’t argue but he didn’t come and sit by me either. Instead he went back to the other side of the room and leaned against the door. “Does your leg still hurt?” I hadn’t been watching because I had to take nearly a dozen pills a day, but I hadn’t noticed him taking any Vicodin since the funeral.
“My leg feels fine. The scar is still there, and I can’t control my limp but it doesn’t hurt. My burns don’t hurt either, In fact, those are gone. Which is particularly nice. Catching on fire is not only painful but burn scars are excruciating and pretty damn ugly.”
“Will you sit with me?” I begged. House moved closer but kept a fair amount of space between our bodies. “If you are a ghost, it also means there is probably a heaven, and maybe a Hell too. You’re having fun right now but…” My thought was—rudely—interrupted by another coughing spasm. House raced to my side and wrapped his arms around me Unfortunately, I could not feel him. “Sorry, I know how upsetting those are. Anyway, as I was saying…” House cut me off.
“You’re worried what’s going to happen to me when you’re dead. Because you might not become a ghost. You could end up in Heaven and I’ll be stuck here alone making pipes explode and scaring tourists in cheesy locations,” Greg was acting sarcastic and unfeeling but I knew it was a cover.
“We need to look into this,” I instructed. “You are constantly complaining about how exhausted as you are. What if you keep getting worse? I don’t want to be alone, but I’m not going to be responsible for causing you more pain. I’m not going to prolong your suffering.” Greg rolled his eyes, laughing a bit.
“What are you going to do, Google “ghosts” or maybe you can use Bing,” he taunted, letting go of my body. ‘Besides, I want to stay here with you. I remember dying. At least I think I do.” House didn’t need to explain how he could have all sorts of memories (real and make believe) if he were a hallucination. “I never kept a promise while I was alive, but I promised you wouldn’t have to die alone.”
“So, you came back?” I finished for him. “Your leg doesn’t hurt, but you are struggling, aren’t you?” He nodded.
“I feel wrecked, all of the time. I get angry very easily too, furious and scared,’ he confessed. The temperature seemed to have dropped several degrees. I shivered.
“Can you grab my laptop?” I asked. Greg giggled. I smacked his shoulder, hitting nothing but air. This made him laugh hysterically. “I’ve only known what was happening for about an hour. Give me a break. And….yeah Googling ghost is going to have about a billion results but eventually I might find something useful. If it doesn’t we’ll try more specific criteria. Or go to the library.” I went through ten pages of links, most of which were Halloween themed articles and web pages on stupid pop culture crap. There was also a completely useless Wikipedia article. House suggested I give up looking after half an hour, but I’m glad I kept at it.
Eventually, I did find this one page. The guys who put it up were clearly idiots who barely knew what they were doing, but they had some footage of the ghosts (and other monster) they’ve…well I’m going to say put to rest but it’s not so pretty. Plus, they had these test you can do to check for ghosts. Of course, most people aren’t emotionally attached to whoever is haunting them, and/or aren’t on death’s door, and therefore can’t see their ghosts.
“Wilson, it says ghosts are tied to their remains and usually can’t leave the place they lived or where their body is buried. So, unless you’ve got my teeth in your saddle bag, these guys are just crazy. And wrong. I was cremated. My remains have already been fried, which is basically all they can do. There’s nothing to tie me to Earth, if I am a ghost.” He was practically crowing, but I had a feeling there was more going on here than we or these ghost hunting people knew.
“Yeah but I’ve got tons of your crap. Maybe you left some blood or skin or whatever on one of the items. Maybe these guys are missing something important. They’re clearly morons. You could be tied to anything. Maybe it’s simply that you don’t want to leave me, which is exactly what you told me.” Greg was pacing back and forth across the room.
“They’re more than morons, they are clearly the stupidest people on the planet,” he exclaimed, throwing his arms up in frustration. This time I didn’t notice any changes to the room around us, but for all I knew he had just broken the windshields of all the cars in the parking lot. Although we probably would have heard something if he had. “If you think they know anything about anything you are even dumber than I thought.” He seemed more frightened than annoyed, however. I completely understood why he wouldn’t want his body or belongings covered in salt and set on fire. To die from burning alive once is bad enough, but a second experience would basically be like sentencing him to Hell.
While I agreed with the guy and didn’t want to torture him, I also wanted House to finally be able to find peace. I could only imagine what House expected was waiting for him on the other side. I had the same fears myself, but—as we both suspected—the website said the longer a spirit stays Earthbound, the worse things get for everyone involved. The ghosts grow confused, angry, emotionally destroyed. If I could save Greg this last bit of suffering, it would be worth having to die alone. And hopefully, in the end, I would get to see him again, in Heaven.
The nimrods on the page I had viewed called themselves the Ghost Facers. I sure as Hell wasn’t going to contact them. No, that would be foolish, and I knew I might end up loosing a lot of money to those idiots. I could even end up getting hurt. However, they mentioned some other people who worked in the same field.
The talk a lot about a couple of 30-something brothers called the Winchesters. I did some research on those two (which was difficult) and they seem to have a good idea what they are doing. They seem to be complete lunatics, but if all I dealt with were ghosts and vampires and whatnot, I’d probably go a bit crazy myself.
Summary: House and Wilson are traveling across the country, following the series finale of House. In this story, I explore the possibility that the end of the episode wasn’t exactly what we thought it was. What if House died in the drug den fire, and came back as a ghost? How would they handle things when House leaves the Casper stage and becomes something a bit more dangerous?
Rating: PG-13 to be safe. There's nothing hard core in here but it's definitely not for the young and/or sensitive.
Warnings: OOC, and AU, spoilers for season eight, crossover fic, and it’s not slash but they have a close friendship and there is a bit of non-sexual cuddling. I have no right to the show House or to anything to do with Supernatural, Fox, the CW, or any of the actors. Also, I changed the timeline of the show. I have House and Wilson still traveling in December of 2012, but they have been on the road for quite a while so I just pushed the diagnosis forward a bit, so that I could include the cold/winter weather.
Additional Note: This eventually turns into a Supernatural Crossover but I'm not sticking 100% to the rules of either universe.
Words: About 4,000 so far
Chapter One
“You can’t be a ghost,” I shouted, gasping for air—only this time it wasn’t because of my cancer. I think I was having a panic attack. “Maybe I am hallucinating and going out of my mind because you died… Oh god, those can’t be my only options, can they?” I collapsed onto the bed. “This is so much more terrifying than I had expected.”
“Honestly, and you know how much I hate to admit this, but I think I am a ghost. I think I have to be, because of the TV and all other things I’ve broken and screwed up. Of course, if I were hallucination you would probably want me to think I was a ghost. Since I didn’t believe in ghosts or the afterlife when I was alive, my thinking I’m a ghost is actually more of a sign that I am a hallucination,” he explained.
“But what about the TV?” House rolled his eyes, and then turned his focus towards my new television set. He stared at it intensely, as if he could intentionally cause it to explode. Nothing happened.
“I’m not Carrie. Look, I’m just saying, you could be completely insane. Which might be a good thing, because then I don’t have to worry about being stuck like this when you die.” House didn’t seem to believe what he’d just said, however.
“You don’t want t believe you’re a ghost because it would mean you have a soul. If ghosts and souls exist, there must be some kind of afterlife, which means god is almost certainly real. It would mean you got all your core beliefs wrong.” He looked a tiny bit scared, but also annoyed. It seemed like he was waffling between ‘of course I’m a ghost,’ and ‘there’s no such thing, you crazy idiot,’ which made sense because in either case House—or my own approximation of him—would be freaking out in a situation like this one, dead or alive.
“And you only want me to be a ghost because you’re afraid of being crazy more than you’re afraid of dying. Plus, if I am a spirit, you won’t have to be alone when you do bite it.” House stood up, limped over to the TV and punched it, but his hand went straight through the screen.
“Why don’t we stop psychoanalyzing each other and try to work things out together?” I suggested. “I don’t know what’s happening here, but I am pretty sure you are just as frightened and confused as I am.” Greg didn’t argue but he didn’t come and sit by me either. Instead he went back to the other side of the room and leaned against the door. “Does your leg still hurt?” I hadn’t been watching because I had to take nearly a dozen pills a day, but I hadn’t noticed him taking any Vicodin since the funeral.
“My leg feels fine. The scar is still there, and I can’t control my limp but it doesn’t hurt. My burns don’t hurt either, In fact, those are gone. Which is particularly nice. Catching on fire is not only painful but burn scars are excruciating and pretty damn ugly.”
“Will you sit with me?” I begged. House moved closer but kept a fair amount of space between our bodies. “If you are a ghost, it also means there is probably a heaven, and maybe a Hell too. You’re having fun right now but…” My thought was—rudely—interrupted by another coughing spasm. House raced to my side and wrapped his arms around me Unfortunately, I could not feel him. “Sorry, I know how upsetting those are. Anyway, as I was saying…” House cut me off.
“You’re worried what’s going to happen to me when you’re dead. Because you might not become a ghost. You could end up in Heaven and I’ll be stuck here alone making pipes explode and scaring tourists in cheesy locations,” Greg was acting sarcastic and unfeeling but I knew it was a cover.
“We need to look into this,” I instructed. “You are constantly complaining about how exhausted as you are. What if you keep getting worse? I don’t want to be alone, but I’m not going to be responsible for causing you more pain. I’m not going to prolong your suffering.” Greg rolled his eyes, laughing a bit.
“What are you going to do, Google “ghosts” or maybe you can use Bing,” he taunted, letting go of my body. ‘Besides, I want to stay here with you. I remember dying. At least I think I do.” House didn’t need to explain how he could have all sorts of memories (real and make believe) if he were a hallucination. “I never kept a promise while I was alive, but I promised you wouldn’t have to die alone.”
“So, you came back?” I finished for him. “Your leg doesn’t hurt, but you are struggling, aren’t you?” He nodded.
“I feel wrecked, all of the time. I get angry very easily too, furious and scared,’ he confessed. The temperature seemed to have dropped several degrees. I shivered.
“Can you grab my laptop?” I asked. Greg giggled. I smacked his shoulder, hitting nothing but air. This made him laugh hysterically. “I’ve only known what was happening for about an hour. Give me a break. And….yeah Googling ghost is going to have about a billion results but eventually I might find something useful. If it doesn’t we’ll try more specific criteria. Or go to the library.” I went through ten pages of links, most of which were Halloween themed articles and web pages on stupid pop culture crap. There was also a completely useless Wikipedia article. House suggested I give up looking after half an hour, but I’m glad I kept at it.
Eventually, I did find this one page. The guys who put it up were clearly idiots who barely knew what they were doing, but they had some footage of the ghosts (and other monster) they’ve…well I’m going to say put to rest but it’s not so pretty. Plus, they had these test you can do to check for ghosts. Of course, most people aren’t emotionally attached to whoever is haunting them, and/or aren’t on death’s door, and therefore can’t see their ghosts.
“Wilson, it says ghosts are tied to their remains and usually can’t leave the place they lived or where their body is buried. So, unless you’ve got my teeth in your saddle bag, these guys are just crazy. And wrong. I was cremated. My remains have already been fried, which is basically all they can do. There’s nothing to tie me to Earth, if I am a ghost.” He was practically crowing, but I had a feeling there was more going on here than we or these ghost hunting people knew.
“Yeah but I’ve got tons of your crap. Maybe you left some blood or skin or whatever on one of the items. Maybe these guys are missing something important. They’re clearly morons. You could be tied to anything. Maybe it’s simply that you don’t want to leave me, which is exactly what you told me.” Greg was pacing back and forth across the room.
“They’re more than morons, they are clearly the stupidest people on the planet,” he exclaimed, throwing his arms up in frustration. This time I didn’t notice any changes to the room around us, but for all I knew he had just broken the windshields of all the cars in the parking lot. Although we probably would have heard something if he had. “If you think they know anything about anything you are even dumber than I thought.” He seemed more frightened than annoyed, however. I completely understood why he wouldn’t want his body or belongings covered in salt and set on fire. To die from burning alive once is bad enough, but a second experience would basically be like sentencing him to Hell.
While I agreed with the guy and didn’t want to torture him, I also wanted House to finally be able to find peace. I could only imagine what House expected was waiting for him on the other side. I had the same fears myself, but—as we both suspected—the website said the longer a spirit stays Earthbound, the worse things get for everyone involved. The ghosts grow confused, angry, emotionally destroyed. If I could save Greg this last bit of suffering, it would be worth having to die alone. And hopefully, in the end, I would get to see him again, in Heaven.
The nimrods on the page I had viewed called themselves the Ghost Facers. I sure as Hell wasn’t going to contact them. No, that would be foolish, and I knew I might end up loosing a lot of money to those idiots. I could even end up getting hurt. However, they mentioned some other people who worked in the same field.
The talk a lot about a couple of 30-something brothers called the Winchesters. I did some research on those two (which was difficult) and they seem to have a good idea what they are doing. They seem to be complete lunatics, but if all I dealt with were ghosts and vampires and whatnot, I’d probably go a bit crazy myself.