(no subject)
TITLE: Salvation 4
AUTHOR: dragynflies
PAIRING: Allison/House, Wilson/OC
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY:
You can do this, because there is not going to be a third chance.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Don’t sue.
Emily brings Blythe and Nathan to the hospital to surprise Allison after you finish work. You’re sitting on the bed next to her when the kids come in, and Allison’s entire face lights up. Blythe carefully lifts Nathan to the bed before climbing up, and both kids curl around Allison, carefully of her tummy.
“How’s the baby?” Blythe asks, her hand hovering over Allison’s tummy.
“She’s good,” Allison says, gently pushing Blythe’s hand down to feel the baby kick, “I miss you and Nathan. Tell me about school.”
“Boring,” Blythe shrugs, but with no real malice, “I already finished all the books on the list. They only had easy reader chapter books.”
“Maybe Daddy will take you shopping?” Allison directs her response to you, and you nod.
“We’ll go tomorrow when I pick you and Nathan up,” you tell her, and her face brightens; the exact same expression Allison gave you when you walked in with your children not ten minutes ago.
“And how’s my Nathan bug?” Allison laughs, pulling his little body closer to her. He laughs and snuggles against her.
“I’m good, Mommy!” he chirps, kissing her face, “I love you.”
Allison kisses his forehead, “I love you too, Bug. Mommy will be home soon, and then you’ll be a big brother.”
Nathan grins, excited about the baby. Blythe has tried to explain to him what it will be like, told him stories about how when he was a baby, she got to feed him and now, Nathan can’t wait to help with his little sister.
“I have to go potty, Daddy,” he says, squirming away from Allison and you nod.
“You want to hang out with Mama?” you ask Blythe, who nods and sits up on the bed with Allison, “Okay. We men will be right back,” you say importantly, motioning for Nathan to follow you with a tip of your head.
You’re glad he’s potty trained himself before the baby comes home, and you help him wash his hands and are down the hall from Allison’s room when you hear Blythe’s little voice.
“Daddy hurts,” she is telling Allison, “He needs more medicine so he doesn’t hurt any more. Why can’t you give him medicine to make him feel better? When I’m sick, the doctors make me feel better…aren’t you a doctor?”
Shit.
You walk into the room, debating if you should pretend like you didn’t hear that, or if you need to address it. Allison takes care of it for you.
“Why don’t you take the kids to see Uncle James or Lisa?” she asks carefully, rubbing Blythe’s back. You grunt, and Blythe kisses Allison’s cheek and follows you to Wilson’s office.
“Ten minutes?” you ask, pointing at the kids.
“Not a problem,” Wilson replies easily, pointing at a small basket in the corner of his office; Nathan dives for the toys he keeps for the children of his patients, “I’m just wrapping up some charts before I head home - I think Emily headed over to McDonalds with the kids after she dropped off Blythe and Nathan. You and Allison want some alone time?”
“Something like that,” you mutter, “Be right back.”
You return to Allison’s room slowly, because you know you have screwed up. You sink down into the plastic chair next to her bed and study your shoes.
“So,” she says, reaching for your hand and rubbing her thumb gently across the back of your hand, “How bad is it?”
“Not good,” you mutter, “I can handle it. I’m just…” No. No, you are not going to pin this on her. This is not her fault.
“I know it’s been hard,” she offers quietly, “It’s not easy laying in this bed, knowing you’re not only have to do your job, but that you have to be both mother and father to the kids. But…”
“I hurt, okay?” you snap, more angrily than you intended. “My leg hurts. I’m not addicted; I’m exhausted.”
“If you need help, my mom can come…or the kids can go visit either set of grandparents for awhile…”
“Right, because sending the kids to my father is going to help everything get better.”
Allison sighs, laying her head back against the pillow, “Dr. Lyndonsyn is hoping that I can make 34 weeks before she takes me off medicine. That gives the baby the best chance over all; there’s medicine I’ll be put on before I have her that will help strengthen her lungs. That’s two weeks away, Greg. And then I’ll be home, but so will the baby.”
“I know that,” you say stiffly, “I have everything under control, I don’t want you to worry.”
“Well what else am I supposed to do?” she shouts, “I’m stuck here, I can’t help with anything. I lay in bed all damn day - my great adventure today was when the nurse put me in a wheelchair and I got to go outside for a half hour.”
“You weren’t supposed to know,” you mutter, “I didn’t think Blythe was going to say anything. I’ll be fine by the time you and the baby come home.”
“It’s not easy doing all of this on your own, Greg. It’s okay to ask for help…”
“I have help!” you shout, and now you just feel bad because you’re yelling at your pregnant wife, “I have poor Emily watching Nathan all day, and Blythe at night, I have Wilson driving them around, I don’t need any more help. What I need is a different leg!”
Allison’s lower lip starts to tremble and now you just feel like an ass, “Don’t cry, Allison,” you sigh, “It’s the same for me, though - you have to understand; while you’re laying here worried about us, I’m running around out there worried about you and the baby.”
Allison sighs again and nods, “Alright. So we’ll just muddle through the next couple of weeks, and we’ll see where that puts us, okay?”
“What else can we do?” you ask honestly. While you know you’re going to need your Vicodin, you don’t need the Scotch. You’ll just have to do what you did when Blythe was little, and cut down one at a time again.
“Yeah,” she mutters, and she looks miserable, “I’m sorry I’m stuck here,” she says quietly, “It wasn’t my intention to -“
“Of course you didn’t want this,” you stop her, “Look. You worry about the baby. I’ll worry about the house, and in a couple weeks, everything’s going to be fine.”
“Okay,” she says softly, her free hand over her stomach like she can protect the baby through sheer willpower.
You kiss her goodbye and leave, still feeling guilty as hell. You go up to Wilson’s office and find Blythe with Nathan tucked up against her side as she reads to him.
“Hey, guys,” you greet them, and Blythe’s head pops up, “Let’s go home?”
“Okay, Daddy,” Nathan says, sliding off the couch and coming over to you. Blythe closes the book and carefully puts it back in the basket where she found it.
“Good night, Uncle Jimmy,” she says, “Thanks for letting us play with the toys.”
“Night Blythe,” Wilson smiles at her and then glances over at you, eyebrow raised. You’ll talk later, “Night Greg, Nathan.”
That night, you tuck them in and make time to read them each a story. When they are asleep, you put together the basinet and the dresser, and carefully unpack the tiny clothes. Distractions keep your mind off your leg, and thinking about the new baby makes it easier to resist the pills.
You can do this, because there is not going to be a third chance.
AUTHOR: dragynflies
PAIRING: Allison/House, Wilson/OC
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY:
You can do this, because there is not going to be a third chance.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Don’t sue.
Emily brings Blythe and Nathan to the hospital to surprise Allison after you finish work. You’re sitting on the bed next to her when the kids come in, and Allison’s entire face lights up. Blythe carefully lifts Nathan to the bed before climbing up, and both kids curl around Allison, carefully of her tummy.
“How’s the baby?” Blythe asks, her hand hovering over Allison’s tummy.
“She’s good,” Allison says, gently pushing Blythe’s hand down to feel the baby kick, “I miss you and Nathan. Tell me about school.”
“Boring,” Blythe shrugs, but with no real malice, “I already finished all the books on the list. They only had easy reader chapter books.”
“Maybe Daddy will take you shopping?” Allison directs her response to you, and you nod.
“We’ll go tomorrow when I pick you and Nathan up,” you tell her, and her face brightens; the exact same expression Allison gave you when you walked in with your children not ten minutes ago.
“And how’s my Nathan bug?” Allison laughs, pulling his little body closer to her. He laughs and snuggles against her.
“I’m good, Mommy!” he chirps, kissing her face, “I love you.”
Allison kisses his forehead, “I love you too, Bug. Mommy will be home soon, and then you’ll be a big brother.”
Nathan grins, excited about the baby. Blythe has tried to explain to him what it will be like, told him stories about how when he was a baby, she got to feed him and now, Nathan can’t wait to help with his little sister.
“I have to go potty, Daddy,” he says, squirming away from Allison and you nod.
“You want to hang out with Mama?” you ask Blythe, who nods and sits up on the bed with Allison, “Okay. We men will be right back,” you say importantly, motioning for Nathan to follow you with a tip of your head.
You’re glad he’s potty trained himself before the baby comes home, and you help him wash his hands and are down the hall from Allison’s room when you hear Blythe’s little voice.
“Daddy hurts,” she is telling Allison, “He needs more medicine so he doesn’t hurt any more. Why can’t you give him medicine to make him feel better? When I’m sick, the doctors make me feel better…aren’t you a doctor?”
Shit.
You walk into the room, debating if you should pretend like you didn’t hear that, or if you need to address it. Allison takes care of it for you.
“Why don’t you take the kids to see Uncle James or Lisa?” she asks carefully, rubbing Blythe’s back. You grunt, and Blythe kisses Allison’s cheek and follows you to Wilson’s office.
“Ten minutes?” you ask, pointing at the kids.
“Not a problem,” Wilson replies easily, pointing at a small basket in the corner of his office; Nathan dives for the toys he keeps for the children of his patients, “I’m just wrapping up some charts before I head home - I think Emily headed over to McDonalds with the kids after she dropped off Blythe and Nathan. You and Allison want some alone time?”
“Something like that,” you mutter, “Be right back.”
You return to Allison’s room slowly, because you know you have screwed up. You sink down into the plastic chair next to her bed and study your shoes.
“So,” she says, reaching for your hand and rubbing her thumb gently across the back of your hand, “How bad is it?”
“Not good,” you mutter, “I can handle it. I’m just…” No. No, you are not going to pin this on her. This is not her fault.
“I know it’s been hard,” she offers quietly, “It’s not easy laying in this bed, knowing you’re not only have to do your job, but that you have to be both mother and father to the kids. But…”
“I hurt, okay?” you snap, more angrily than you intended. “My leg hurts. I’m not addicted; I’m exhausted.”
“If you need help, my mom can come…or the kids can go visit either set of grandparents for awhile…”
“Right, because sending the kids to my father is going to help everything get better.”
Allison sighs, laying her head back against the pillow, “Dr. Lyndonsyn is hoping that I can make 34 weeks before she takes me off medicine. That gives the baby the best chance over all; there’s medicine I’ll be put on before I have her that will help strengthen her lungs. That’s two weeks away, Greg. And then I’ll be home, but so will the baby.”
“I know that,” you say stiffly, “I have everything under control, I don’t want you to worry.”
“Well what else am I supposed to do?” she shouts, “I’m stuck here, I can’t help with anything. I lay in bed all damn day - my great adventure today was when the nurse put me in a wheelchair and I got to go outside for a half hour.”
“You weren’t supposed to know,” you mutter, “I didn’t think Blythe was going to say anything. I’ll be fine by the time you and the baby come home.”
“It’s not easy doing all of this on your own, Greg. It’s okay to ask for help…”
“I have help!” you shout, and now you just feel bad because you’re yelling at your pregnant wife, “I have poor Emily watching Nathan all day, and Blythe at night, I have Wilson driving them around, I don’t need any more help. What I need is a different leg!”
Allison’s lower lip starts to tremble and now you just feel like an ass, “Don’t cry, Allison,” you sigh, “It’s the same for me, though - you have to understand; while you’re laying here worried about us, I’m running around out there worried about you and the baby.”
Allison sighs again and nods, “Alright. So we’ll just muddle through the next couple of weeks, and we’ll see where that puts us, okay?”
“What else can we do?” you ask honestly. While you know you’re going to need your Vicodin, you don’t need the Scotch. You’ll just have to do what you did when Blythe was little, and cut down one at a time again.
“Yeah,” she mutters, and she looks miserable, “I’m sorry I’m stuck here,” she says quietly, “It wasn’t my intention to -“
“Of course you didn’t want this,” you stop her, “Look. You worry about the baby. I’ll worry about the house, and in a couple weeks, everything’s going to be fine.”
“Okay,” she says softly, her free hand over her stomach like she can protect the baby through sheer willpower.
You kiss her goodbye and leave, still feeling guilty as hell. You go up to Wilson’s office and find Blythe with Nathan tucked up against her side as she reads to him.
“Hey, guys,” you greet them, and Blythe’s head pops up, “Let’s go home?”
“Okay, Daddy,” Nathan says, sliding off the couch and coming over to you. Blythe closes the book and carefully puts it back in the basket where she found it.
“Good night, Uncle Jimmy,” she says, “Thanks for letting us play with the toys.”
“Night Blythe,” Wilson smiles at her and then glances over at you, eyebrow raised. You’ll talk later, “Night Greg, Nathan.”
That night, you tuck them in and make time to read them each a story. When they are asleep, you put together the basinet and the dresser, and carefully unpack the tiny clothes. Distractions keep your mind off your leg, and thinking about the new baby makes it easier to resist the pills.
You can do this, because there is not going to be a third chance.