(no subject)
From Housefic_pens- 100 words, song title based. This a first for me. Also- a bit spoilery.
Isis
The stairs down were dark, steep, uneven and Greg treaded carefully, holding his mother’s hand. It was for her protection- not for his, he rationalized. He was too old to be holding his mother’s hand. A few more steps and they came into the main room of the tomb.
Centuries old paintings surrounded them, a sarcophagus standing in the front of the room- a gray mound of stone. Greg stared at the ceiling- stars, only in concrete and paint.
His mother stepped closer to the wall, examining.
“Look, Greg.” Her fingers caressed the glass encasing the wall. “It’s the mother...”
I Do Not Want This
“I had no choice, Greg…”
“I did. I chose. You…” He couldn’t get the words out, his thigh was burning and he reached towards it. Then he reached towards the PCA pump on his right. He waited until the medicine was running again. She held his hand as he squeezed. He loved her. He hated her.
“You were dying.” Whispered.
“I can’t live like this.”
“You don’t know that. The doctors say…”
“They’ve got no idea! It’s been a week! I don’t want this!” His hand impacted- unlearned. A strangled moan, Stacy squeezed his hand again, the PCA was unresponsive.
Illuminate
“Bring that light over here, will you?” He wasn’t getting up otherwise. Too many obstacles. Too much of a pain in the ass. Where were the damn crutches anyway?
Lightning flashed through the window again, illuminating the room for a split second, and Stacy’s face as she handed him the flashlight. It chose that moment to flicker and dim, signaling its impending death.
“Do you think the power will come back on soon?” Lightning Arms crossed and worried glance in front of him. Always easier when on edge. Opportunity.
“I hope not.” House pulled her down on top of him.
You Should be Dancing
She watched as they swayed. Bride and groom. Arms on shoulders, backs. Heads resting, smiles, shining eyes. She didn’t know why she came. He was a friend, a subordinate. She owed him her presence. There were two couples at her table, speaking amongst themselves.
Across the room: Wilson’s best man. He was leaning against Stacy, crutches against the table. He wasn’t happy, despite the smirk on his face. It'd only been five months since he could’ve been out on the floor with the woman behind him.
They were one in the same. She had her hospital. He had a disability.
Home and Dry
“God you’re soaked.” Cameron moved to the coffee maker, pouring into a red cup. Black.
Foreman and Chase watched her, annoyed. House shucked his coat off, tossing it, dripping, onto the table.
“Refreshed!”
But he took the coffee when she handed it to him and tried not to collapse into the chair. Stupid fuck had taken his space. It would be the day a month’s drought would unleash its pent up angst.
Case folders handed out, patient histories taken, diagnosis in progress, House gathered his coat and backpack again. Cuddy asked why. He slapped his wet jeans against his skin.
And So It Goes
There was yelling. Always yelling. Loud enough for the neighbors to hear through the thin walls of the condo. Wilson gripped the back of his neck, paced, listened, crossed his arms. She wasn’t listening. He didn’t understand.
“Your job is your life, James. Where do I fit?”
“I love you.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Love doesn’t matter to you?”
“I need someone to be there for me. But you- you’re always…. Or you’re with him.”
“You don’t understand.”
Then she told him. And so it goes. She did understand. She’d understood for months. That was what the “yoga club” was for.
Poprocks and Coke
“Uh… That’s… supposed to cause your stomach to explode… or something…” Foreman’s eyebrows arched, disbelieving. House dropped the pebbled contents of the packet into the soda anyway: a rebel yell.
The candied pieces fizzed on their way to the bottom; some floated on top. House watched them, inspected the glass. Chase smirked and watched. Cameron shook her head.
“True scientists use only one subject. It’s the only path to enlightenment.”
He tipped the glass back, gulping its contents. The glass came back down and he gasped, burped, blew it out. “Woo!”
“And?” Cameron probed.
“I guess we’ll know soon enough.”
The Will of the Water
He sighed, watching it cascade off his skin. Droplets, coming together to form bigger droplets, then rivulets, running, terminating, dripping off every part of him. Collection in the bottom of the tub, a pool of droplets to form a mass- a puddle. Red tinged.
He’d stopped the drain despite the shower running, allowing the water to cover his legs, hips, torso- where the wound remained open and still seeped when he poked at the scab of it.
“House! You okay in there?” Wilson: always too concerned. At least the leg was fine now. Weak.
“I’m good. Give me a few.”
All Because of You
Cuddy had cringed when he came in (he looked horrible) asking for more. And she cringed when he started talking after she denied him. But she had never expected this.
“I hate you! You told her it was okay. You told her to do this! You wonder why you can’t find a husband- its fate. You’ll never conceive. You can’t even take care of a patient! What makes you think you could be a mother?”
Her mouth was open, disbelieving. He was walking out, as fast as he could with the pain. She heard the tears before she felt them.
The Sacrifice
“Dr. House is very good at what he does.”
“But he’s an addict.”
A sigh from the stand. House’s head tilted, eyes squinted at the predicted response.
“He needs the medication.”
“But the drugs affect his judgment. More importantly the lack of drugs… He stole prescriptions.”
“If he did, he did it for cause. Dr. Wilson and I didn’t believe him. We denied him the medication he needed.” Only once. “It was my fault.” It was all her fault.
Her eyes bored into his for a moment, sympathetic. He returned the glance, looked down, sighing- he had never admired sacrifice.