snowblindrpg | Four people walk into a Sporting Goods Store [closed]

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Four people walk into a Sporting Goods Store [closed]

Characters: Ecks, Wilson, House and Will
Location: Building 247
Date: Day 372
Summary: Working on the small details
Warnings: Nothing beyond what you usually expect.

[ A small sporting goods store, though it's still a fairly large building for the area. Half of the building is extremely dark, being buried under the snow wall. It's possible to find things to make traversing the area more easily here, though they're difficult to come by. There are men's, women's, and unisex public bathrooms.

The employees only area contains an eerily empty back warehouse area, with lots of empty, tall shelves and dark shadows. The break room has several chairs and tables.

"ALPHONSE ELRIC, DAY ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY ONE, TRAVELLING WEST, IF ANY ASSISTANCE IS REQUIRED CONTACT @LELRIC ANY TIME." is written on the wall. A map of the entrance area has been drawn on one of the walls. Beside it is the following warning: "An anomaly has been trapped in the bathroom in the fire station. Avoid if possible, and use caution if you have to pass through or spend the night. DO NOT OPEN THE DOOR. @standardissue" The fire station (242) and the fast food place (248) are both labeled as such, with an X on 247 with the note: "You are here." "ALPHONSE ELRIC, DAY ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY FOUR, CONTACT @LELRIC FOR ANY ASSISTANCE." is carved on the wall. "ALPHONSE ELRIC, DAY ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY FIVE, CONTACT @LELRIC FOR ANY ASSISTANCE." is carved on the wall. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[House is in the employees only area at the moment, shining his tablet light into the back corners, trying to pull the tall shelves away from the walls. He's very focused on his task. There must be some sort of way through the ice wall back here. If there was going to be a way, it would be the building pressed up against the snow wall already, wouldn't it be?

He hears someone enter into the area and calls out to them, not being terribly discerning to find out who it is.]

Help me with this shelf. I don't want it falling on me.

[ It was now five days since Hannibal died and there was no evidence that his friend was returning. Will was definitely subdued. It wasn't that he couldn't survive on his own, he had for a very long time back home, but it was hard not to feel the weight of why pressing down on him.

Why keep fighting?

Why keep trying to survive?

The mindset he'd finally accepted that night on the cliff top kept swimming at the corners of his mind, a spectre that had been chased away for so many months, it's return was unwelcome. Logically Will understood that some of this was due to Hannibal's loss, as well as the risk that came with traveling alone.

Or as alone as Will ever was, given the constructs of his own unstable mind.

He'd clung to the presence through these recent days. Talking to it almost constantly as a way to keep himself anchored. He balanced it with the exercise Hannibal had taught him, reciting his own name, the time and his location, but it didn't stop Hobbs' from laughing and jeering at him.

Hearing House's voice -anyone's voice really- from outside of his own head was like being splashed with ice cold water. Will caught his breath and closed his eyes for a moment, grasping tight to the tangible line tossed on the tumultuous waters of his own mind.

He didn't say anything, but simply set his pack down and came up on House's right side, reaching to help support the shelves. It would free the doctor's dominant hand to finish doing whatever insane stunt he was executing now. ]

[At the moment, he's just trying to edge the shelving back from the wall so that he can feel along it to check for hidden seams. He just assumes it's Ecks or Wilson when the person doesn't reply, and comes over to help, so it's a moment before the doctor actually acknowledges Will. When he does, House does a double-take.

This is... something. He stares at Will, the dim light of his tablet the only thing illuminating the other man. When nothing particularly helpful springs to mind to say, he simply falls back on snark.]

Well, you look like crap. Help me check for hidden panels. I'll get you the dog after we're done here. [If he pretends that Will never left, if they never talk about it again or acknowledge the awkwardness between them, then they can pretend none of that happened and just move on. Hopefully.]

[ House was in luck.

Even if Will were the type to want to talk about things -unless it was about serial killers- he had traveled long enough with the doctor to know first hand how well those kind of conversations went. Which was to say they didn't. ]

I'll have you know my hair has been freshly washed and tidied, just for Ecks. [ He answered snark with sass. Though, despite the pallor of his skin, the sunken gauntness of his cheeks, Will was neat and clean. That compulsive need to prove that he could care for himself and ever present spectre in the depths of his subconscious.

His sass was subdued sass, but at least he wasn't making weird emotional noises. Instead, he set about helping to check with panels. ]

I have a report from the gate, and also a couple other interesting items. Nothing particularly conclusive, but ... interesting.

[ And certainly not weird emotional noises. ]

Ecks doesn't care, and you're gonna incite Wilson's pretty boy rage. He's the one with the best hair around here. [Just if you were looking for competition, Will. But House will hone in on the more relevant pieces of the conversation as he reaches high and lets Will feel along low.]

But what's the story, Wishbone? I'm all ears.

'Wishbone'? [ Will's eyebrows arched as he looked bemused. ] Graham Cracker was obvious, but how do you get to Wishbone?

[ Because that was obviously the important point in this conversation. The idea of Wilson in a pretty boy rage simply did not compute. But House was probably right about Ecks. ]

Oh, c'mon. Wishbone? You had to watch TV when you were a kid. He's the dog that does story time. But he's, like, the main character in the stories. So instead of Sherlock Holmes, you get this terrier or whatever playing him.

[How could Will have not watched the one show seemingly made for him and his interests.]

[ The clueless blink Will sent House's way, probably was a clear indicator that he had no idea what the other man was talking about. He really had never been a television watcher, to busy outside playing with his collection of strays.

But not the point at the moment.

Standing there, Will slid his hands into his pockets and thought back over their conversation when House had been playing the piano. Being called "Wishbone" had stirred elements that Will needed to address.

...

That Will wanted to address. Ducking his head, he began to pace in the small space, a surefire tell about the state of his nerves, even as his voice remained soft and level. ]

I thought you meant in the more literal sense; a wishbone held between two people and snapped, with one getting the larger piece.

[ Even if House had taken it all with relatively good -in House terms- grace, Will knew that breaking his promise to stay had an effect. He'd traveled with House for months, grown close to the man and saw what very few people stuck around long enough to see.

Pausing, he had his back to House but turned to look over his shoulder. ]

Leaving you the hardest thing I've ever done. [ And given many of the things he'd done, up to and including throwing himself off a cliff, he'd let House assign weight to that statement. The doctor had the data set to work with. ]

Originally, I meant to do it back when we tried the experiment in the Morgue. Had it gone to plan, I knew that knocking you out, taking your place, would anger you and give you the necessary emotional insulation to cut me out of your immediate orbit.

It would protect you from the threat I bring with me. [ They both knew Hannibal was dangerous, but in this conversation, Will focused on the responsibility he carried.

Responsibility to people like Molly, Alana, Abigail and even Chilton. ]

But things didn't go as planned, and ... [ Will hesitated, gathered his ~~courage~~ thoughts before he continued. ] ... so help me, I cannot and will not regret that.

[ Now, Will turned back. His eyes meeting and locking with House's. Something he never did with people. ]

You see the worst in yourself, you cultivate it as a way to protect yourself from ... [ Will's lips twitched upwards and he pulled a hand out to make a gesture indicating their current situation. ] ... situations just like this. Not just because of the uh ...'bro code' rule of never having conversations like this, but also because you've been hurt. All your life.

Oh don't get me wrong, there is definitely a large portion of you that genuinely does not care, but when you do ... you're vulnerable and you hate that even more.

[ Pausing again, Will began to walk back towards House, stopping only a few feet away. He stood still for a moment, the next words coming in a tone that was weighted, and reached all the way into his eyes. ]

I am sorry, House. I betrayed your trust, and I didn't stay. There is no excuse, no explanation I can offer that makes what I did alright.

I think I tried to tell myself at the time, that I was doing what was best for you. That by leaving, by encouraging Hannibal to walk away, I was protecting you from both of us. Wilson was with you, and he is the person who is best for you.

But all I was doing was trying to convince myself. I never expected to have someone in my life who wasn't trying to change, or fix me. Someone who saw everything I am and accepted that without conditions.

[ While he'd been talking, Will had been watching House's face, touching the scruffy jaw, the gaunt cheekbones and the wrinkled corner of stressed eyes, with gentle glances. ]

Because the truth is, I care about Hannibal, but I also care about you. You're important to me.

[ Will gave the doctor that small, rare smile of his, before he angled off to the right, going to move past House. ]

This is a selfish moment for me, things I needed to say because we're running out of time.

[ When he spoke next, it was back to his calm but business direct tone. ]

We need to figure out these last remaining obstacles, and I am committed to helping in the effort to get us all home. The Entrance Gate did not respond to either app, though I did get a message from at Admin, 'Sealed for safety purposes.'

There was no response at the house with the X in it. About the only other item worth reporting is I learned something in regards to my near constant companion. Though it ignored John Watson's attempt to speak to it, it purposefully avoided him when we walked past him.

I tested this, walking around both sides a couple of times. Result was always the same. It definitely went around him.

Edited 2018-06-24 20:05 (UTC)

[House is just a little surprised they're veering into this. His arm is stuck behind the shelving, reaching high, and Will Graham is apologizing and pouring his heart out to him. The doctor just goes silent and still, looking over his shoulder and toward Will. There's confusion and shock evident on his features at first, but he masks those as quickly as he can.

He honestly doesn't know what to say to this. His first thought is something flippant, something pointed, prickly--'Nothing is unconditional. Sometimes you just don't know what the conditions are.' Sometimes you have to push and push and push until something breaks completely to find out where caring ends, when you've crossed too many lines. And sometimes, very occasionally, he doesn't push something until it breaks because it's good and he's scared of losing it. Wilson, Ecks, Steph, Flynn, Quark... there are so many people he's pushed away, pushed hard at only for them to come back, anyway, and he'd stopped trying to break them, to break the bonds they represent.

Will is another one. House doesn't do friends. It's one of the first things he'd ever told Ecks. He doesn't do friends because friends, especially here, have a tendency to die. Horribly. Repeatedly. And the less emotional investment, the better.

But that was back before he'd spent almost a year in Norfinbury. Back before the deaths of more people he genuinely liked than he can count on two hands. Back before the scent of lavender made him sick and terrified, before white-walls and the sound of static threw him into a panic, before he'd let himself be killed over and over in pursuit of science. Back when he'd thought that one chance was all a person had.

Maybe there are second chances. He's been given enough here by people who shouldn't have after that tablet experiment... after Davesprite had died again. After he'd encouraged Kid to go and get himself killed while insane. After he got a second chance with Wilson. Here. And Will again. Maybe...

At the very least, they have a little more time together before the end. Whatever that end might be.]

Wow. I'm getting all teary-eyed here. Caring is sharing, I guess. Glad we're moving on.

[He can't say all that to Will. House has never really been a person to say what he's feeling unless he's upset and shouting it. What he does instead is pull his arm out from behind the shelving and strolls over to his pack. He opens it and pulls out a well-preserved and carefully-not-squashed Winston plushie. House steps over to Will and hands it back without acknowledging the exchange, just carrying on with the business.]

Interesting news about the shadow. Is it still paying attention when you talk to it? I'd tune out Watson, too, if he were talking to me, personally.

OTA

cw: suicidal ideation

cw: suicidal ideation

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cw: suicidal ideation

cw: suicidal ideation

OTA

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OTA (belated)

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