First Journal Entry: Out By The Lake

[gotcanewillpoke]

Fall came on much faster in Montana than New Jersey. Late September saw a chill in the air that reminded him of late October, early November. His leg ached, but his lungs appreciated the fresh air. He sat by the lake, fingering the journal James had given him. He'd been carrying it around, occassionally opening the cover to finger the pages. More

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[gotcanewillpoke]

"Exactly," Greg confirmed. He had no doubt as to how things would have played out if he'd never left New Jersey. Because if he'd never left, james would never have left, and they never would have shared a bed, and Greg never would have kissed James like he did. They'd still be House and Wilson, and Greg would be spouting off random nicknames at James to get a rise out of him. To avoid and bury any thoughts of intimacy between them.

Neither of them was comfortable with intimacy. Greg hadn't realised that fully until he became intimate with James. He could sit and ponder their relationship for hours, and it never made any more sense to him, and in fact usually made less sense the more the mulled it over.

They were the sort of friends who provided a sounding board for each other. The kind who could insult and jab at each other mercilessly and know the other would always come back. No matter what Greg threw at James, no matter how intense the fight, he never doubted James would come back, until the incident in New York.

Greg really didn't like to think about that.

[dontkeepkosher]

James stared ahead of him at the lake, and perhaps if Greg was to look at him he'd notice just by looking at James profile that James looked... lost. This whole thing with the journal, James couldn't work out why but it was making him feel unhinged. Probably because the entire idea of it meant that James had to think about the choices he'd made in life, the outcomes of the choices and how badly he dealt with them all. How much he'd lied. How much he'd manipulated to get his way. How much it made him realised he didn't like himself as a person. James didn't want to write about that stuff. And Montana, this lodge, there was nowhere for him to really run away from it.

He didn't respond to Greg. Instead, he lowered his head to stare down between his knees at the grass, almost looking as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

[gotcanewillpoke]

"But that's not how things played out, because you did find me in New York." His voice was soft and quiet. He had looked at James, and was still looking at James, watching him, studying his body language. He didn't care for what he was seeing.

Greg had always known James wasn't truly happy. He'd said as many times as he could fin a reason, that James was more screwed up then himself. He used his leg as a crutch, and in much the same way, James used his kindness as a buffer against the reality of the world around him. Even so, there was only one other time James had seemed to Greg to be as lost as he was at the moment, and that was in the moments after Greg had raped him over the kitchen table in New York.

"Do you want to go back to New Jersey, James?"

[dontkeepkosher]

James stared hard at the ground, twiddling his fingers together. He hated that, suddenly, he felt this almost overwhelming urge to cry. He felt it in his throat, in his chest, his stomach, the back of his eyes. Things felt bottled up. In spite of all the fights they'd had, in spite of everything, James had never truly told Greg how he felt, about anything. He didn't want to. Yet he did, at the same time.

He shook his head slightly. And then admitted, "I don't know what I want."

[gotcanewillpoke]

Greg hadn't made a move toward James, but he was suddenly on his feet, and stepping forward. He wasn't even sure why, except that he had a weird feeling, and he felt that he needed to be closer to James.

He didn't reach out to him. He stood a safe arm's length away. He knew what he wanted. He wanted James. Nothing else mattered. New Jersey, New York, Montana. He'd go to Timbukto, as long as James was with him, but he didn't know how to tell James that.

"No one's asking you to set your intentions in stone." Lame, maybe. But it wasn't Greg's way to be directly supportive.

[dontkeepkosher]

It was weird Greg said that. Because all his life all James had ever felt was this need to meet up to the expectations of others. It was the treatment his parents had imposed on him as a child, to meet their expectations, sometimes unrealistic expectations, sometimes expectations that were way beyond James' reach when all's he'd wanted from them was support. A hug. A kiss on the cheek. Something other than being told they'd be proud of him if he succeeded. In what, he didn't know. Because he certainly failed in so many areas of his life. Sure, he was a doctor. They were proud of that, but James was never truly happy because even then it wasn't enough. And then the marriages, the affairs, all the things that had him feeling like he was constantly tailspinning out of control.

And here was Greg telling him that no one was asking him to set his intentions into stone. He kind of wished Greg wouldn't stand so far away. He, at the same times, wished Greg would back right up and not come any closer.

He didn't know why, but James found himself saying without any energy, sounding completely depleted, "I feel... I feel lost."

He swallowed hard and drew in a deep breath, keeping his eyes trained down to the ground. Opening himself up like that could warrant Greg mocking or ridiculing him, because Greg had done that to him in the past. God, if Greg did that now...

[gotcanewillpoke]

A biting remark might have found its way to his tongue, but he swallowed it back down. Now was not the time. There was a time he wouldn't have cared. He would have slung insults and brow-beat James just for the hell of it.

Instead, he reached out. Maybe his hand was shaking. Just slightly. But he steadied it by stepping a half step closer, and settling his hand on James' shoulder. He wasn't a psychologist, but he'd studied people all his life. He'd studied body language and facial expressions, voice intonations and hand gestures. Even if he had no formal training, he could easily see that James was falling apart. And his admission only confirmed the suspicion.

"I'm right here, James. I'm not going anywhere." Lean on me. Anchor yourself. Laugh. Cry. Whatever you need to do.

[dontkeepkosher]

James almost shoved Greg's hand away. Greg touching him was Greg acknowledging that James was in need. James didn't want to let his guard down like that. But, really, he already had. And now that Greg's hand was on his shoulder that seemed to thrown down yet another wall that James trying to keep built up.

He lifted his hand to his face and covered it for a moment before his fingertips and thumb took to rubbing his eyes, his head still bowed so Greg couldn't see his face unless he was to crouch down. Maybe James was crying. Or about to. Or trying not to. It was one of those three things.

[gotcanewillpoke]

Greg was slightly apprehensive about the fact they were in a public, and very visible, spot. Sophie, Stacy, Cuddy, or anyone on staff at the lodge could see them. He didn't like that feeling, that vulnerability, but it was too late. James was falling a part, and Greg wasn't entirely sure he could keep it together. He wasn't comfortable with the role of care taker.

Especially when James was clearly about to cry. if he wasn't crying already. Greg couldn't tell, but he knew it was close. And that was something he didn't know how to deal with either. He'd never seen James cry. He'd seen him roar with frustration, he'd seen him so pissed off the nerve in his cheek twitched. Many times his voice wavered with emotion, but he'd never cried.

Crying, when it was real and not driven by pain or frustration, was terrifying. Greg wanted to backtrack and leave James to fend for himself. Instead, he felt himself shifting his weight, and drawing his hand up to the back of James' neck in order to pull James against him, guiding James' head to his shoulder.

[dontkeepkosher]

James didn't bother resisting. He let himself be pulled in and when his face came into contact with Greg's shoulder, he turned his head and pressed his face in firmly against the side of Greg's neck. He found himself suddenly grateful of the contact and while he didn't do anything grandiose such as wrap his arms around him, nothing like that. He just found himself leaning in against Greg like he had nothing left to lean on.

He was aware, very much so, that they were out in the open. It was why he forced himself to be quiet and still, even though there were tears leaking out of his eyes. He swallowed back his sobs, forced his breath to remain even, all the while feeling the incredible, overwhelming feeling of shame burning through him. He felt ashamed when he cried.

Probably the only indication that he was crying was the sudden loud gulp he gave as he tried to swallow around another sob, followed by a brief, slight hitch of his body as the want to cry began to consume him.

[gotcanewillpoke]

Greg scanned the area. They were completely in the open, giving him a full view of the area around them. They were alone, he didn't see anyone else.

Neither did he wrap his arms around James. Just the one hand at the back of his neck. His other hand remained braced on his cane. He was already out of his own comfort zone and he knew James had to be too.

He didn't offer any verbal comfort. Only the steady pulse of his heart, and the strength of his body. He felt as if he were holding James' weight, and if he backed off his cane, they'd potentially tumble to the ground.

[dontkeepkosher]

Somewhere underneath all the weight of feeling as though he was falling apart, he found the control in him, somehow, to force himself to shut off. It took him a moment to regroup himself, and the pain, the ache he felt from wanting to cry was still as fierce and crippling as ever, like a hand clutching his heart and throat in a vice. But he managed to pull himself together enough to shrug away from Greg's touch, and he stepped back, his head still bowed.

Dashing a hand up to his face, he quickly swiped away at the tears and drew in a deep, shaky breath. He felt like he was burning alive with shame.

"Sorry," he found himself murmuring, rubbing his forehead with his fingers, as though trying to cover up his face and therefore his shame.

[gotcanewillpoke]

"Yeah." Greg stepped back and retrieved his journal where he'd left it. As far as he was concerned, the episode was over. He'd gathered a somewhat deeper understanding of James, though what he said and didn't say, and from the clues of his body language. The tears were certainly unexpected, and though he could feel the shame that burned in James he couldn't name it, and he wouldn't call attention to it.

"I was just thinking about going back inside."

[dontkeepkosher]

James just nodded, though refused to look up to Greg. He dropped his hand from his face and looked behind him at the lodge for an excuse to not look at Greg at all, his body following so he was then fully facing the lodge.

The episode, inwardly for James, felt far from over. He felt strangled inside, knotted up, like he was being garroted. He wasn't making it any easier for himself by pretending to pull it together.

But he was attempting to ignore it. He felt almost too ashamed to talk to Greg, which was why he wordlessly began to head off towards the lodge, hands burrowed deep in his pockets, his shoulders hunched.

[gotcanewillpoke]

Greg followed. He stayed a few steps behind, and continued to study James' body language. As much as he wanted to believe the episode was over, he knew it wasn't.

Greg caught up to James inside the lodge. The contrast of the warmth inside felt like a hundred tiny daggers stabbing the delicate nerves in his leg, but he ignored the twinges of pain and hurried his pace to walk closer to James.

[dontkeepkosher]

The warmth of the lodge felt the same way to James, making him realise how cold he actually was. It didn't slow him down, though. He thought about heading to the bar, but that would mean sitting down where other people could see him. So, he headed for the elevator, pressed the button to their floor when Greg alighted after him, and then walked down the corridor to the door when they arrived at their floor.

He pulled his key out, unlocked the door and silently entered the room, dropping the key down onto the table as he passed it before shrugging out of his coat.