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House Nanofic: The Last Time I Saw Paris
TITLE: The Last Time I Saw Paris
AUTHOR: nightdog_writes
CHARACTERS: House, Wilson, guest appearances by Kutner and Taub
RATING: PG-13
WARNINGS: Yes, for the death of a major character.
SPOILERS: No.
SUMMARY: "Y'know, not to put too fine a point on it, but he should have been dead yesterday." 366 words.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em. Never will.
AUTHOR NOTES: Written for blackmare_9.
BETA: My intrepid First Readers.

The Last Time I Saw Paris

In the end it's like a watch running down, the owner simply forgetting to wind it so that the toothed gears creep to a stop and the driving force dissipates.

For a while House holds court in his room, taunting interns, terrorizing nurses, putting the last notes on a research paper for the new issue of Indian Journal of Nephrology. Cuddy tries to hover but he shoos her away.

Wilson ignores him.

"What's he waiting for?" Taub asks. "Y'know, not to put too fine a point on it, but he should have been dead yesterday."

Kutner shrugs. "The soul has to get used to the idea."

"What? What idea?"

"Transmigration. His jiva's a little confused right now."

"His ... okay, you don't really believe that, do you?"

Kutner looks down at his friend.

"I believe in Superman and Green Lantern," he says.

House leaves the hospital.

No one stops him; Wilson watches as he signs himself out.

"Hey," Wilson says.

House doesn't answer. His breath rasps in and out, inhalations and exhalations that lift his chest only a little. The bedroom is lit by shadows, even after Wilson opens the blinds on one of the windows.

"Hey," Wilson says again. He tosses his coat on the foot of the bed, pulls up a chair, and sits down.

"I was dreaming," House says. His voice is very soft and Wilson has to lean forward in order to hear it.

"Yeah? About what?"

"Diff'rent," House mumbles. "Never got hurt. Got married. Had ... kids." His eyes open for a moment and he stares at the ceiling. "Not just a test."

"House, it's never been just a test," Wilson says gently.

"Huh. We'll ... see." House's eyes close again, and when Wilson takes his hand he doesn't pull it away.

"Interesting," House says. "In-- "

He doesn't say anything else.

Late in the afternoon of the next day his breathing slows. After a few minutes it stops entirely.

The sun is out; the light runs down the windows in bright rivulets, and for the longest time, Wilson believes it's raining, but when he gets up at last on stiff and aching legs, it's perfectly dry outside.

~ fin

A fascinating overview of the mechanics of wind-up watches may be found here.
The Indian Journal of Nephrology is real.
More information on the jiva and the concept of transmigration of the soul may be found here and here. Any mistakes I've made in the story regarding it are mine alone.
The full lyrics to "The Last Time I Saw Paris" are here.