menolly_au

Title: One Letter
Author: menolly_au
Pairing: None
Rating/Warnings: PG
Spoilers : For 6.12 - Remorse
Words: 554
Summary: House writes a letter of apology while he is in Mayfield.
Disclaimer: House doesn't belong to me

You sit on the white bed and stare at the white padded floor and the white padded walls. The door is open. You would never admit it aloud but with the door shut you had felt trapped and alone. With no distraction and nothing to focus on your mind had raced into overdrive and your pain had almost consumed you again. Now it is your choice to be here. You can write in here, away from the madness of the common room, away from your fellow lunatics.

You have promised Nolan one letter of apology in exchange for missing today's group session. His agreement probably has everything to do with the fact that group today is focusing on dealing with visits from friends and relatives. You have already told him that there will be no visits. If you are to heal it will be a journey you take alone.

You think of Wilson, of the last time you angrily spoke to him, of the last time you tried to manipulate him. You are thankful now that he had the strength to hang up on you, to say no.

You finger the pen you have been given and the blank paper. You sigh, start small, Nolan had said. One letter, one apology, one request for forgiveness. Begin to move on.

"Wilson," you write. Maybe you should use his name, maybe you should call him James. Will that make him more likely to accept your sincerity?

"Wilson, I am sorry I killed Amber."

The words are stark and impersonal, there on the paper. You have never said this to Wilson, not like this. You had hoped that he would understand, that he would see all that you did to save her as an apology, an act instead of words. Although he appears to have forgiven you, and you have resumed your friendship with each other, this one event lies between you. How can words on paper begin to heal that?

Your life has taught you that apologies are useless, empty words that change nothing. Your Dad had been sorry when his ‘discipline’ went too far, when he left marks for others to see. Stacy had been sorry when she left you in pain for the rest of your life. The marks were still there, the pain would never leave.

You look again at what you have written, it is wholly inadequate. How can one sentence make up for a person’s life? How could such banality possibly mean anything to Wilson? Sorry would never bring Amber back, would never give Wilson his lost happiness, the future he had thought he had. You cannot trivialise that loss.

You crumple the page and toss it into a corner. You will not use Wilson as an exercise in therapy. You will not reduce what lies between you to words on paper, to a letter. You will stay here, you will heal, you will overcome your addictions. Wilson will see the changes you have made and understand why you have made them. Your actions will speak louder than your empty words ever could.

You take up the pen again. There is still a letter to be written.

You smirk. You will give Nolan his one letter and it will mean nothing.

Without further thought you begin to write.

"To Lorenzo Wibberly..."