What are you worth?
House had been staring at the glass sitting on his coffee table before he heard the voice. Then he blinked. Evidently, it had been his first blink in a while. Furthermore, he had bigger problems to worry about, given that he had no idea where that voice had come from. If it were internal, it wouldn’t have been so loud, and if it were external, then he had an exceptionally well-hidden intruder. Ruling those out left one possibility: hallucination.
“You know, that’s a strange word,” he said out loud. “Makes you think light, which you can stretch to fit, but what about the ha—“
The hallucination spoke again.
What are you worth? It asked insistently.
House was quiet now. It was right to ask that, he felt; here he was, sitting on his couch, alone in a cold room, talking to nothing. He certainly talked to himself, but not like this. He didn’t snark at himself. No, if he snarked, it was because someone was there to take it, someone to –
Push away?
Now he was frustrated. This hallucination had a familiar voice, but his mind was too hazy to place it. If he could just get some clarity –
Isn’t this what you always do, whenever you somehow get someone close to you?
There. Now he remembered. Now, Wilson was standing in front of his TV, staring at him. A much hazier Wilson, anyway. It was strange, though. It sounded like Wilson, but that wasn’t like him.
“What do you want?” faux-Wilson asked, staring into House’s eyes. This Wilson was meaner. Very uncharacteristic.
House didn’t answer.
No use debating a figment of my imagination, he thought to himself. Then the faux-Wilson laughed cruelly.
“Shying away from an argument? You’re a coward!” He still refused to respond.
Why is my mind conjuring a fake Wilson
to torment me? The guy’s like a big puppy. The only person less likely to be doing this is Cameron. He wondered if the hallucination would shift at that thought, but it remained steadfastly Wilson.
“Come on, look at you, you’re pathetic. Do you really think you’re above this?” House ignored his taunts, trying to think of a way to dispel the hallucination. He thought of the meals Wilson had made for him, the lies that he told for him – sweet, virtuous Wilson,
lying for him –
“Come on, House. Be honest. What are you
worth?”
“Enough for your sorry ass to still be fighting for me,” he said. He felt a rush as the vision vanished, and he passed out.
---
In his dreams, he met another fake Wilson, but this one passed better. He was slavishly devoted to House – he did whatever he needed him to. Lie, cheat, steal, even –
The phone startled him out of his thoughts before they could get dangerous. It was Cameron, calling to entice him onto a new case. As his irritation grew, his dream memories rapidly faded, until he forgot all the specifics. He still remembered Wilson, though.