(Untitled)

[badsidemanner]

After getting coffee, but not exactly indulging in conversation, House went across the hall to the infirmary. Stepping inside, he started to prep -- there was a lot to do, and only so many people to do it.

He had bad news to deliver, a berating to give, and -- well, God only knew what else was going to come his way while he made himself available.

Comments

[jianhuo]

How about... nothing?

When most people get sick, everything about them seems to dull, but in the far side of the infirmary, there is red hair, shockingly bright against the white of the bed, the walls, the sheets...

The skin of the woman it's attached to.

[badsidemanner]

It's to this bed that House goes first.

He once asked a class about telling people they were going to die. Wilson was often thanked -- he was kind, empathetic. House? He didn't get thanked, often.

There was no expectations here, anyway.

"Treatment's not working. You're going to die." His voice was low -- respectful enough tha the didn't announce it to the strung out hippie on the other table.

"I can make you comfortable," he added. "Or I can make it end."

There nothing in his eyes, his face, his tone to say that he would judge her for chosing her death, one way or the other.

[jianhuo]

A twitch beneath her eyelids - her eyes are moving, not opening. But her lips quirk - she smirks, vaguely.

Then she opens her eyes, blue on blue and just looks at him.

[badsidemanner]

His lips quirked -- not a smirk or a smile, not wholly. But it didn't last.

"You let me know what you want. Tris and Simon are too pussy, so..." he looked at her, blue eyes steady, gaze unwavering. "Let me know."

[jianhuo]

She snorts, just a little - a huff of annoyed breath as she turns her face away from him slightly.

"I want-- not this. Pussy or not, you-- gonna do that for-- me?"

[badsidemanner]

His brows scrunched -- just a little. "You want to be -- off the painkillers?"

Was he hearing her right?

[jianhuo]

Yes. No.

She lets her eyes wonder, tracing the edge of ceiling and wall and is silent for now.

"...I don't know."

[badsidemanner]

"What do you know?" House asks, eyes flat, ungiving. This was not about him. This was about her.

[jianhuo]

"This ain't how I'm-- s'posed to-- go out."

She knows it.

[badsidemanner]

"I think that's how everybody feels," House says. The last rage aganist a lack of control, the last grief at a life unfinished. "Especially when they're as young as you are."

[jianhuo]

"...You're a doctor."

She turns h er head to look at him, face calm-- eyes hard.

"Life follows-- patterns."

This ending doesn't fit her life.

[badsidemanner]

"I specialize in the things that don't obey the pattern, figuring out where they really fit -- what is really going on," House says. "The pattern is here."

You abused your body. Now, it fails you.

[jianhuo]

"And what pattern-- is that?" she murmurs, smirking slightly, expectant.

[badsidemanner]

"You pushed the envelope -- made yourself a hard working machine in a hard working world," House said simply, without anger. "The problem with that is that our bodies don't work that way. You can only screw with it to make it work the way you want it before systems start to fail."

[jianhuo]

Her smile, her eyes - nothing changes. He may not be angry, but those were barbs and she didn't flinch, not at all.

She just smiles at him.

"You're cute when-- you think you-- know shit."

[badsidemanner]

"Well," he says, tilting his head, "I'd like to think myself more as rakishly handsome, but I'll settle for cute."

It doesn't have the energy it really should.