Fanmix + Fic: Mayfield Mixtape
Title: Mayfield Mixtape
Fandom: House MD
Character/Pairing: House, implied past (and future?) House/Cuddy
What it is: My usual - music + fic: one drabble per song. 13 tracks plus one very cute bonus.
Warning: Spoilers for Season Five, AU for Season Six so far (I haven’t seen it yet, so I’m making it up). Oh, and there’s swearing, too, ‘cause it’s House, and he swears.
File: All tracks individually uploaded to Mediafire.
Summary: It’s a long summer, and House is stuck in Mayfield with nothing else to do but think. He reflects, re-evaluates, feels sorry for himself, and makes some plans. It’s not all miserable; in fact in parts it’s quite a happy, hopeful mix, as House dreams his summer away. But then again, this is House, and he’d be stupid to get his hopes up too high, wouldn’t he?
Here’s an excerpt:
His fingers seem to trip of their own accord to midway through the Battle of Hogwarts, and his eyes devour the moment; the clatter of Basilisk fangs, the house-elves, and the kiss. He reads it, over and over, and each time he feels a little more inspired, until one sunny afternoon he makes a decision. He’s going to do it. He’s going to do it, the second he gets out of this place, he’s going to just do it. He’s going to do a Ron; he’s going to say the perfect words, and she’s going to race at him and fling her arms around his neck, and with any luck the war will be over before they even know it.
Childhood Behaviour - Eskimo Joe
It isn’t just the physical symptoms, and the hallucinations, that drive him mad. It's not the insomnia and the nausea and the paranoia of the opiates. It's the hate. The hate just sneaks up on him, splitting his rational mind in two; one minute everything's fine, and people are their usual level of annoying, and then, in the space between heartbeats, a dirty great hateful anger will swell like a body of water within him. It's been happening more and more often, recently; it's almost every day, and it's breaking all the spindly, tenuous things around him. Wilson, his team, her; there's only so long they can withstand the sheer force of the hate, of his anger, as it spews like magma from the cracks in his resolve.
and i've been wakin' up angry
it's gotta stop
all this childhood behaviour
~
My Drifting Nature - Ben Lee
She used to be his best friend. She used to be the first person he spoke to in the morning, and the last person he thought of at night. She used to be the one to sit in consoling silence at his side; the one to always leap fearlessly to his defense, no matter the charge. She used to be the one who knew him best, and the one who loved him anyway. Everything's changed, and he can't be sure when the end began.
sometimes our eyes meet
sometimes we look around
then one of us will look away
i usually look down
~
Sick of Myself - Matthew Sweet
She's gorgeous. She's just fucking gorgeous; she always has been and she always will be, and now that it's been six weeks since he's seen her face he can’t understand how he could have forgotten that fact. She’s too fucking gorgeous; so pretty it makes him want to cry, so hot it makes his legs quake and threaten collapse. She’s gorgeous, and he won’t forget it again.
you don’t know how you move me
deconstruct me and consume me
oh, i’m all used up, I’m outta luck
i am starstruck
~
Hey Jealousy - Gin Blossoms
He dreams of escape. He dreams of driving; of roads so broad they could lead anywhere, of the way it feels to be only just anchored to the surface of the planet in a speeding car, and how it feels to watch New Jersey fly by in a blur. He’s been stationary for weeks now; confined to the square boxes of the long-stay unit and the sweeping, green-and-gold grounds of the hospital. He dreams, every night, of snatching her car keys from the palm of her hand, and dragging her by the wrist into her nice, shiny car, and driving like the wind.
and you know it might not be that bad
you were the best I ever had
if I hadn’t blown the whole thing years ago
i might not be alone
~
Spirit Level Windowsill - Icecream Hands
His brain is plotting against him. He’s being quietly, sweetly haunted by a twenty-year-old memory; a reminiscence bright with early-morning yellow and birdsong, and set in a tiny, overgrown backyard in Ann Arbor. His old guitar, beaten and battered, his hair when it was long, her eyes bruised with lack of sleep and watching him so closely he can feel the pinpoints of her gaze on the side of his face. He remembers, and as he sees the softly faded images his fingers map the chords out of habit, his right foot tapping a quick, rollicking rhythm; the melody of that very first song tripping happily along like hopscotch in his mind. He smiles, and spends hours sitting on his bed, staring out the window at summer, as it passes.
oh, turn around the launch
you got the hourglass, I got the paunch
it’s my favourite stance
and I hope we will be doing your favourite dance
this time
~
Lines On Palms - Josh Pyke
She’s always been warm, and it’s always puzzled him. She’s thin, too thin to have skin so cosily welcoming; and perhaps it’s the cashmere she wraps like a ballerina around herself, or the slightest tint of gold in her colouring, but she’s always been so very warm. Years ago, in the bed they used to share when they were young, she would sleep pressed close against his back, and by dawn the blankets would be gone and he’d wake to find himself twined around her, his skin leeching the very heat from hers. He used to sleep so well.
and I can be cold, I know, I know,
but a woman is a warm breath
on the back of your neck
and a warm belly pressed against yours
~
So Many Nights - The Cat Empire
Psychiatric units are not glamorous. He shaved his head on the third day; sick already of the gritty feel of the industrial shampoo on his scalp. It’s breezy, and easier, and he doesn’t think about it much, until he catches a blurred glimpse of himself in some shiny surface or other. He looks like a prison inmate, or an extra from One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest, which is appropriate enough. He doesn’t look anything like a match for her and her vaguely exotic beauty, but then again, he never has.
I bought a suit and I bought a top hat
I put a red stripe down the side of my slacks
went to the barber, got my hair cut high
and I bought ticket for the opera tonight
so many nights I’m still thinking ‘bout you
~
Heartbeat and Sails - Augie March
The worst thing, the very worst thing - the thing he didn’t even think to worry about - is not having music. He’s got his iPod but no computer; no radio or stereo or turntable, and most definitely not his piano. Not even an old acoustic guitar. Nothing. He hums snatches of melody all day long; strums invisible chords with the pads of his fingers pressed to his palm, he even sings, quietly, when it’s late. He’s never, ever been without music, and it hurts like an ache, like the worst possible deprivation; worse even than the way his eyes miss the sight of her.
in biting down on the great foam world
what is the looming thing?
not money, not flesh, not happiness
but this which makes me sing
~
Glenrock Falls - The Mudbloods
It’ll be a beautiful reunion, he tells himself. It’s been seven weeks now; seven weeks since her bird-gentle hands held him together and passed him in careful silence to Wilson, and he wonders if she misses him. When he sees her again he’ll kiss her, on the cheek at least, and he’ll pull her against his chest and he won’t take no for an answer; he’ll hug her, and hold her, and get his fill of her jasmine and honeysuckle perfume, of the softness of her skin and the ensnaring tangles of her hair. He plans it all out, down to the smallest molecule of time and touch, and anticipates.
throw your arms around my neck
and tell me how you’ve missed me so
~
The Ship Song - Nick Cave
It’s love; he can see this now. It’s always been love, however twisted and slippery the history of them has been. It’s love; he loves her, and he thinks just maybe she might love him back. She used to. He loves her, and knowing it and believing it and saying it aloud to himself gives him the fiercest, headiest rush he’s ever felt. It’s frightening and addictive and unstoppable, now.
we talk about it all night long
we define our moral ground
but when I crawl into your arms
everything
it comes tumbling down
~
These Days (Live Acoustic) - Powderfinger
He never meant for this. He never wanted to lose his mind, however many ill-advised drug trips he might have sought out over the years. It’s humiliating, as shameful as his leg, and there are days when it’s almost too much to bear. The visions, the voices are all gone, now, and sometimes he wonders if he just dreamt them up because he was lonely. He doesn’t want to stay here; the prospect of one entire summer of his life spent pinned between these grey and white walls is enough to double him over on the four-square-feet of shared bathroom floor. He wants to fix things. He wants to change, and so he does the therapy and writes in the journals and tries, really hard, not to listen to the nasty little voice in the back of his mind, whispering in his own familiar, sarcastic tone, whispering that it’s all just bullshit, that it won’t work. He doesn’t listen when the voice tells him he’s doomed, and instead he plots and plans; a thousand and one grand gestures, the words he’s going to say and the touches he’s going to savour. He plans, and dreams, and keeps his clawing hold on what little he has left.
this life
well, it’s slipping right through my hands
these days
turned out nothing like I had planned
~
20 Good Reasons (Piano Acoustic) - Thirsty Merc
You're supposed to fight for the important stuff, he remembers. You're not supposed to lie down and let all the important stuff get sucked away from you with the tide; you're supposed to hold on. You're not supposed to let go, and he's been letting go, finger by treacherous finger, all these years. The ghost of a hold is all he has left on her, now, and if he doesn’t redouble his grip, she’s going to slip silently away, and then she'll be gone, and he’ll be lost.
and i lost everything
when i lost you
so tell me
why should i let you go?
~
Message To My Girl (Acoustic Piano Version) - Neil Finn
Most mornings when he wakes, tangled in his sheets in a pale puddle of sunlight, there’s an off-kilter melody turning round and round like a carousel in his head. He scribbles down the notation in the back of one of the therapy journals, and jots down line after line of lyrics that never seem to quite match up with the lilting sound in his mind. He knows it’s a song; still child-like and unformed but with all the right bones and muscles, and there is potential in the spaces between the notes. He’ll play it for her, when he gets out.
I don’t wanna say I love you
that would give away too much
I don’t wanna say I want you
even though I want you so much
~
Bonus Track:
Maybe Tomorrow - The Remus Lupins
The only reading material he thought to bring with him when he left is an old Auden collected works, and his dog-eared copy of Deathly Hallows. He can’t seem to stomach the Auden - it’s far too pretty - and so he rereads the last third of Deathly Hallows, over and over again. His fingers seem to trip of their own accord to midway through the Battle of Hogwarts, and his eyes devour the moment; the clatter of Basilisk fangs, the house-elves, and the kiss. He reads it, over and over, and each time he feels a little more inspired, until one sunny afternoon he makes a decision. He’s going to do it. He’s going to do it, the second he gets out of this place, he’s going to just do it. He’s going to do a Ron; he’s going to say the perfect words, and she’s going to race at him and fling her arms around his neck, and with any luck the war will be over before they even know it. He’ll do it, he swears to himself, over and over, and he traces the words on page 625 with his fingertips, for luck.
and so I ask myself
what will it take?
for you to see me in that way
in the Great Hall, in the Great Hall
I’ll stand atop a table and scream, I’ll scream
I love you, I love you, I love you, I do
it feels so good to say that I do
I love you
All tracks are here
Please comment if downloading
(or even if you're not: comments are love)
Enjoy!
~