snowblindrpg | [log] Fresh Poison Each Week [closed]

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[log] Fresh Poison Each Week [closed]

Characters: House, Wilson, Hannibal, Will, Ecks
Location: Building 317
Date: Morning 356
Summary: Post-event recovery
Warnings: Hannibal-related warnings, plus event-related: fingernail horror, toothloss, cannibalism, vomiting, forced feeding, PTSD, mental instability, hallucinations, are possible to come up.

[Judging from the outside, this was definitely a house, but going inside, it seems to have been converted into something like an infirmary. There are a lot of metal tables neatly arranged in the living room and kitchen, and the bedroom has a mattress lightly-stained with blood: it seems like someone at least tried to clean the thing up as best they could, and even flipped it over so the cleaner side is on top. The toilet and shower still work: the shower even has hot water. Makeshift shelves have been attached to one of the walls.]

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What are you? My therapist?

[The snap and the accompanying Look are reflexive, ingrained responses to someone speaking to him like that. House stands, bristling, for several seconds, but eventually sinks down, as ordered. He looks away as he counts his breaths.]

[ Will lets the snarl roll off him like water of a duck. He doesn't allow it to shift him, or drive him back, despite the sharpness and the bristling.

When House is seated, Will moves to slid down the opposite wall. In the tight confines of the bathroom there isn't all that much space between them, but they've been in closer quarters before. At least they're on an eye level, without Will being a ponce and kneeling in front of House.

Resting his destroyed hands on his knees, making sure House can see them, Will watches his friend. He ignores Hobbs clattering around in the tub, as well as Abigail sitting sweetly at the other end of the room. ]

I'm going to need you to trust me, for just now. [ He said quietly, his tone expressing the fact that he knows trust is difficult for his friend. ]

What you've done, how does it make you feel? [ Will raised one damaged hand. ] Don't give me the glib response. How does it make you feel to know you asked for Miller in this way?

[The glib answer is on the tip of House's tongue as the other man holds his hand up. House looks back at Will, stares his friend down, weighs the odds here. If he breaks down, that's going to be a problem. Will giving an honest answer, admitting it aloud, do that?

Eventually, he breaks eye contact and rubs the heel of his hand across his right thigh. It's a gesture that no longer means anything, well, nothing except telegraphing anxiety and phantom pains. It's an uncomfortably long minute where House just breathes, just rubs his leg. When he speaks, his voice is quiet again, trembling slightly.]

I feel like a sick fucking bastard. Because I hope I just sicked a guy on a buncha computer codes and wires, but a part of me... I want him on that plate. I... [He falls quiet, breathing in short, sharp puffs as he works to maintain control. House closes his eyes and there are images there to rival Will's. And if Miller really is the mole, really is the plant, then House knows that the tower, everything that happened there, that was him.]

House. [ He said the name softly, after letting his friend get through the words he needed to speak. ]

I was removed from the New Orleans Police Department, because I couldn't use lethal force. I was denied agent status with the FBI because I couldn't pass the psyche evals. [ Information House knew, but Will reiterated it for a purpose. ]

Garret Jacob Hobbs was the first person I used deadly force against. When the dust settled, my answer to that question was; powerful. I felt powerful. [ It was hard to admit, and Will realized that in doing so, it might drive House away. But his friend's sanity was more important. ] I felt powerful, and I felt righteous and I felt good.

You will want to kick me for this, do it if you like. But it won't negate my words.

[ Here, Will leaned forward slightly, trying to catch those moving eyes, he reached out with his hands and placed them on House's damaged leg. ]

You have been abused by this man for months, decades depending upon what timeline you want to believe in. You've driven it down to survive, but it doesn't make the trauma any less. How could you not want Miller dead? I want him dead, most of our number want him dead. Hannibal might have to take a number.

[ Giving his head a shake, before House could argue, Will continued. ]

You're not a murderer, House. Nothing about any of this makes you feel powerful or righteous, or good. You are hurt, and you are exhausted and you keep seeing people hurt, again and again by that man, by all of this and it has left you bleeding inside because you can't solve the puzzle and you can't fix the damage.

But you're not a murderer. If you were, you wouldn't feel this conflict.

[Maybe not a murderer, but that doesn't make his hands clean. Nor does it change the fact that he's hurt people in ways that would probably make even Will cringe. House knows himself, knows he can be vicious and cruel, monstrous in his own ways. He's ruined careers, relationships, and lives, even as he's saved people.

House opens his eyes when Will sets his hands on him, looks at the other man with a gaze filled with fear. Fear of responsibility he doesn't want, punishment from others, pain.]

You know Lecter. You know how he can get in your head. How the hell am I supposed to stop him?

[They're linked now. Distance isn't going to cut House free. And there's still the matter of leaving Will alone to the man. He wouldn't ask his friend to leave Hannibal, and House recognizes the practical uses of Hannibal's relationship with Will for the man's relative metal stability. But the guy is still a psychotic killer, and it would be too easy for him to pull Will too far one direction without an anchor in another.]

Edited 2018-05-08 12:47 (UTC)

[ Watching House like this hurt, because Will didn't have the answer for him. He was certainly no role model, given how deeply Hannibal had gotten in his head.

Will knew the easy answer to the question. The easy answer was for Will to take Hannibal and split off. Leave House with Wilson and Ecks. It wouldn't fix the Miller situation, especially if Hannibal had promised, but it might keep his lover from trying to dig deeper into his friend's mind.

Though he knew House would be furious to be thought of as fragile, seeing the fear in his eyes, the wake of what had been done recently and all that came before it; it took a toll. A toll that would leave House vulnerable.

Because Robert Miller needed to be dead. Will's righteous violence was stirred, and if he did nothing else in this, destroying Miller was a top objective. Whether it be through murder, or pulling the right plug! But it was a dangerous slope to start down.

There was a part of Will that wanted to whisper yes, yes this is right, this is righteous. But the threads of compassion, the part that had taken himself and Hannibal over the cliff, snarled in defiance. ]

You're not a killer, House. What you want is justice, and for the torture and the abuse to stop. But this whole situation has slid into the terrible territory of war.

Miller isn't going to stop, unless he's stopped. That is Miller's choice; it is Miller's design. It has nothing to do with you, except you're a good man who won't stand by and do nothing. [ An old cliche but hey there was a reason they stuck around. Though Will's lips twitched in acknowledgement of some of House's need to use people as lab rats. ] At least, not unless you already know the answer and are just watching people trip over themselves for the fun of it.

I can tell you that is different from wanting to feel powerful yourself, except we both know that our motivations are never that black or white. There is part of you who wants his pound of flesh, it's a raw and primal urge. It's survival.

The tool you have to protect yourself from Hannibal, is being forewarned. Myself, Miriam Lass, Bedelia, Alana, even Jack we didn't see the predator before it was too late. You know what he is and what he's capable of.

[ Will paused for a moment, studying his friend's brilliant blue eyes. ]

You're not a killer, and you know what you're looking at. Don't dismiss the power and control that affords you.

[There's a lot to protest there, from the 'good man' part to the notion that Miller's going to be stopped by any of them. But there's comfort in Will's words and very occasionally, House can accept that. The man who craves connection, in spite of himself and knowing just how dangerous it can be, is there.

Something has to give, though. And it's either going to be a piece of House's sanity or it's going to be the nature of this relationship he's developed with Will. Hannibal's really not the one who can lay claim to the corruption here. He might be a party to it, but Will... Will is the main drive.

House is a selfish and clingy man once he latches on... as Wilson can attest to. Even when he's pushing someone close away, he's digging in his nails much of the time.]

If he does get to cook Miller, I'm so not eating it. You only get to make fun of cannibals when you aren't one.

[House is staying by the window, but his fingers are on the frame now, just touching, feeling the pulse and power of it and knowing for certain he really has no interest in stepping inside, even while it fascinates him. That doesn't mean he's particularly stable, though. He smirks at Will. If he can't laugh, he's going to scream and cry. And really, no one wants that.]

[ Will's lips twitched in a return smirk of understanding. His expression turned inwardly thoughtful for a long minute, almost as if he were sinking into one of his episodes but he didn't go fully under.

When it came to House, at this point in their relationship, he didn't need to, anymore than he needed to with Hannibal. If anything, it was a never ending struggle to keep the lines well defined and not allow them to become blurred.

After a moment, he came back to himself and his eyes looked haunted, conflicted and so very old. Tired, tired in the way they'd looked the night he stood in Hannibal's safe house, waiting for Dolarhyde to make his move. ]

If I was a kind person, and capable of the self-sacrifice, I'd take Hannibal and make sure we were out the door the minute lockdown lifted. Having Wilson and Ecks, I know they would be the support system you need and I trust Ecks to keep you safe and Wilson to help you.

[ Will caught his lower lip between his teeth and tugged at it, before he gave his head a shake and looked down at House's knee. His voice was quiet, and cracked in a way he rarely allowed. ]

But I want to stay.

[House is quiet as he watches his friend's broken piece click and grind before him. Friend, like Wilson. Different from Wilson, but every bit as important at this point, in spite of the technically short nature of their acquaintance. House has spent more continuous time with Will than anyone else he can think of in Norfinbury. With their memories being twisted around and alternate realities experienced, it feels like he's known the other man for years. He knows Will's nuances, and the man has become a regular part of his routine. Will is like his backpack. Leaving somewhere without it just seems stupid.]

See, this is the part where the hero'd lift your chin, say 'here's lookin' at you, kid,' and kiss ya. But since you aren't a hot chick, I'm not a hero, and this isn't "Casablanca"... [He lifts his hand and taps Will's nose lightly.]

You start crying, I'm making fun of you, dude.

[He won't. He really won't. But there's so much tension right now. His friend is hurting. House is hurting. The doctor shifts his hands to Will's shoulders and pushes him back. It's gentle, though, as House is just giving himself room to slide to the floor.

He wraps his arms around Will's neck in a hug. Maybe they can allow for an extra breakdown this month. They both kind of need it. And this is private, so it's about as close to 'no one will ever know' as it can get, sans the Admin.]

And you tell anyone about this, I'm pantsing you in front of Wilson and Ecks next chance I get.

Edited 2018-05-10 18:16 (UTC)

[ The alternate realities went a long way to muddying the waters, it was true, but there was also a lot of living that had happened within the actual timeline. A lot of experiences that all went towards building them to the place where they now stood ... or sat and knelt, as well as an understanding that there was still much to be done.

Will couldn't think too closely on that idea at the moment. They were all hurting, too raw at the moment; their energy needed to go into healing. Then, then they'd stand up and work to end this. Will did believe they, all of them, could find a way to stop Miller but he meant what he said about wanting to stay. Wanting to see this through with House.

He wrinkled his nose when it got tapped, and his lips twitched slightly upwards in acknowledgement of the tension breaker. He did struggle a little to hold back the tears he could feel prickling at the edges of his eyes, but managed to keep them in check. ]

You charmer you. [ He teased, weak but a genuine attempt to help establish the balance they both needed. Will looked a little bemused when he was pushed back, but quickly realized what House was doing and scooted his butt on the floor to make room. He had not expected the hug that followed, since they were still within their bi-monthly range, but as soon as the doctor's arms settled around him it just felt too right to resist.

His own arms were around House's torso, reaching up to press against his shoulders as Will sought to return comfort as well as cling to it. He settled his legs in a way that suggested he wasn't going anywhere any time soon either.

Though he did offer an offset to help balance the depth of emotion, with the snarking they both used to help get through. ]

Wouldn't you rather do it in front of a more easily horrified audience? Wilson knows you and Ecks would just wonder why we're doing such a silly thing in the cold.

I think someone like Quill, or maybe Carson would be good for horrifying?

Okay, fair. I'm thinking Angelcakes'd be good too. Although, she'd probably put us on her shipping chart or tree or whatever she's keeping.

[Will wasn't around for that whole nonsense with Clayton, thank the spidergod, but it's something that House thinks of and shakes his head about now and again. Karkat introducing troll dynamics surely could only complicate and excite a shipper.

House would be lying if he didn't admit that he'd slotted people into different quadrants some nights when he'd been bored. Right now, he's guessing he and Will would fit as the pink diamond one. Something about rails. 'Monorail' is the only thing that comes to mind, and that's not right.]

You're hallucinating.

[It's not a question. It's an observation. House's head is positioned such that he's sort of speaking directly into Will's ear, so he softens his voice.]

You need me to play music from my tablet? Strange has a playlist from when I've played piano... and when I had my guitar.

Edited 2018-05-10 19:21 (UTC)

'Shipping chart?' [ Will asked in an obviously bemused tone. ] How bored were people that such a thing was invented?

[ He kind of knows the answer to that, long nights in Norfinbury where it was mentally and emotionally detrimental to navel gaze too long. Sometimes the games and the ridiculous helped people make it through the night.

He isn't going to admit it, but now he's kinda curious. He may circle back on this, some other night when it was a little more appropriate. ] So long as we don't end up on a dart board, I wouldn't mind so much.

[ He concluded. A breath then and another before House made his statement. Will appreciated that it was a statement and not a question, and he didn't bristle at the diagnosis. He briefly considered given details about what was going on, only because he knew House enjoyed evidence.

But he also suspected that right this minute House could benefit from focusing some of that healing on himself, rather than trying to glue Will back together. They both needed a bit of balance from each other.

So he nodded where his head was pressed against his friend's shoulder. Confirming and also silently leaving the door open if House wanted to ask but not offering too much information at the moment. The thought of music was definitely appealing, except it would come with the need for them to move.

It was hard, harder than usually to try to mentally reel himself back -he was still clinging, sorry House- but Will gave another nod. ]

Music would be nice, and that would be easier than asking you to sing. [ And it could be a benefit to both of them, rather than House having to navigate through song lyrics. ]

[The answer is very bored, but House can sense that's a topic for another night, as well, particularly when Will continues to hold onto him. He'll also wait to ask until Will's a little more center in the present. It's easier looking back than it is explaining in the present for something like that.

There's a compromise here, one that gives them a little more time before they head out and House puts on some music for everyone so it doesn't apparently single Will out.]

Lucky you, I like singing. One song, then I'm grabbing my tablet. Pick a band. Beatles, Stones, Pink Floyd, or Queen.

[ Music would probably be good for everybody, even Hannibal who could appreciate the piano music.

One again, Will was left thinking that if he had his shit even remotely together he'd thank House for the offer, but say he'd wait for the recordings. Sit up, brush himself off, double check on House and then they could both stop hogging the bathroom.

Except Hobbs was sitting in the tub, down at eye level and grinning fiendishly at him. Dolarhyde was standing over top of him, the blood from the abdominal wound Will inflicted was falling in a steady trickle, falling on the back of his neck and oozing thickly down the length of his spine. It was everything Will could do not to squirm and try to rub away the phantom sensation.

He didn't dare close his eyes, for fear of what waited for him behind the lids, so he had his forehead against House's collarbone, eyes locked on a button on the doctor's coat.

This was reality, not Hobbs and not Dolarhyde. The smell of tension did not obliterate the familiar scent of House and combined they were still more powerful than the stench of blood and opened bowel.

Clearing his throat, Will considered his options and went with the classics. ]

Beatles. Going to go with the original boy band sensation.

[House breathes in deep the scent of Will's hair. The ex-profiler has a habit of keeping himself rather meticulously clean, which is nice given their current conditions. The doctor mentally sorts through his catalog before choosing something apropos, something for Will's vivid imagination to grasp. He pulls Will just a little closer and sings softly, breath ghosting over the younger man's ear in warm puffs.]

Picture yourself in a boat on a river
with tangerine trees and marmalade skies.
Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly:
a girl with kaleidoscope eyes.

Cellophane flowers of yellow and green
towering over your head.
Look for the girl with the sun in her eyes,
and she's gone...

Lucy in the sky with diamonds.
Lucy in the sky with diamonds.
Lucy in the sky with diamonds.
Ah...

[He sings the whole way through the rest of the song, hoping the words paint a new picture in Will's mind, as well as his own. One that's bright, colorful, strange, but absent any of the horrors in the worlds they know, here or at home.]

Edited 2018-05-10 23:50 (UTC)

[ House's deep baritone, even when sung softly, had the capacity to slice through the cacophony of noise that was a near constant companion for Will. Being able to feel the rumble of his voice offered a additional tactile anchor in these circumstances as well.

Though Will was almost viscerally afraid of closing his eyes, as House's voice continued to paint much brighter, if slightly nonsensical pictures, Will took a deep breath and whispered. ]

I'm trusting you.

[ With those words, he let his eyes close and put his faith in House's choice of song and voice to keep the terrible images at bay. ]

Everyone smiles as you drift past the flowers

[The meadows that surrounded his little house in Wolf Trap, the way they looked in the spring time, full of wild flowers. At least one dog ending up with a bee sting on their nose; they would never learn.]

That grow so incredibly high
Newspaper taxis appear on the shore
Waiting to take you away
Climb in the back with your head in the clouds
And you're gone

[How far he could drift away from it all, when he sat at his desk and worked on a season's worth of flies. The one time when memories of working on them with his father, chased away the echos of whatever nightmare case Jack had sent him on.]

Lucy in the sky with diamonds
Lucy in the sky with diamonds
Lucy in the sky with diamonds
Ah
Picture yourself on a train in a station
With plasticine porters with looking glass ties
Suddenly someone is there at the turnstile
The girl with the kaleidoscope eyes

[Those mornings, when the sun rose over the river and so many colors -a kaleidoscope of colors- from the trees, the leaves, the water itself and even the fish within, would be so brilliant. Even the darkest of the monsters couldn't dim the beauty of nature around him.]

Lucy in the sky with diamonds
Lucy in the sky with diamonds
Lucy in the sky with diamonds
Ah
Lucy in the sky with diamonds
Lucy in the sky with diamonds
Lucy in the sky with diamonds
Ah
Lucy in the sky with diamonds
Lucy in the sky with diamonds
Lucy in the sky with diamonds

[ Will could hear the wind down as House's voice began to reach the end of the song. He had to let go, had to sit up and both of them had to head back out. The music from the tablet would help, even if it lacked the warmth and the feel of the music moving through his cheek where it rested against House.

But Will was a selfish creature and he stayed in place until the last soft baritone rumble began to fade. ]

[House just breathes for a moment when he finishes the song. Music had always been one of his safe places, an escape. The damn "Lavender's Blue" song that had played off and on in his head at one point, interspersed with static and "long live the Prophet," had tarnished that. But the feeling wasn't gone. It had kept him and Strange sane, at least, when they'd been in the tower. He'd fought back against Kid the Cultist with music until he couldn't. And music is one of his first connections to Will from that fateful encounter.]

One song. I'll find more of my Beatles stuff in Strange's playlist.

[Time to go back to the real world to a degree. He doesn't want Will's more pleasant reality collapsing. But they need to pull apart, reestablish the order that says neither Gregory House, nor Will Graham, particularly like people touching them. That is true. House can't stand most people putting their hands on him. Will, though? He's okay.

He starts to untangle himself from the embrace, sitting back and offering the other man a smirk.]

Also, this is super gay. No homo.

[ Will remembered the conversation they'd had about music and the role it played in both House's life and his psyche. He wanted to think that his friend got something out of singing, at least as much as it had helped sooth and center the ex-profiler.

When the song wound down, and House mentioned finding more on his play list, Will slowly began to gather himself and work to accept that it was time to unwind from the brief cocoon they had woven around themselves. As the doctor began to disentangle himself, there was a brief clench of Will's hands into House's coat, before he released the older man and helped draw apart.

He laughed, softly, in response to the smirk and shook his head. ]

Tsk. [ He scolded, though it was obvious he was playing. ] Keep yourself open to the moment, dude.

[ The words left his mouth, that odd mimicry he sometimes did, but as the last word rolled off his tongue, Will looked a bit apologetic. ]

Right. For future reference I don't believe I should ever utter the word 'dude' again.

[House's brows rise at the 'dude,' but then his smirk widens to one of his rare, genuine smiles.]

Nah, you're definitely more a 'bro' kinda guy.

[The doctor stands and steps aside, offering a hand down to Will to pull the other man up. He offers his friend a wink.]

It's the shaggy hair thing.

[Nothing's really been fixed about the situation with Hannibal, but at least House can say he's not alone in the knowledge of what's going on. That's... something.]

[ Unfortunately, for both of them, when it came to fixing things with Hannibal, it usually involved the nuclear options.

Such as a duet dive off a cliff or Will leaving and taking Hannibal with him. The first had ended up reversed when they ended up here in Norfinbury and the second ...

He wanted to stay.

The smile earned House one of Will's quick, warmly amused looks, before he took House's hand and got up to his feet. At the crack about his hair, Will reached up to ruffle his fingers through his hair, prepared to argue the point, only to feel it's length. ]

Suppose it might be time to put a knife to good use. [ He acknowledged, almost crossing his eyes to peer at the overhang of his own bangs. Such a simple, mundane thing in the wake of conflict and comfort, but it was right. It was how they did things, and it worked. ]

Why don't we go with my scissors and have the bf do up your coif like he wants it? I like the MacGyver-ing with the knife idea, but I think we can do a little better than that.

[He turns to open the bathroom door again, but pauses. House doesn't look around, but his voice goes softer.]

Thank you. For listening.

[To what he said? To his panic? To the music? All of the above. The doctor doesn't wait for the ex-profiler to respond. He twists the handle and heads out. Time to find his tablet and put on some tunes.]

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[log] Fresh Poison Each Week [closed]

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cw: gore, hallucinations, mental illness, Will's brain is attrocious

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