What Happened in the End? Chapter 1.
Title: What Happened in the End? Chapter 1.
Author: orange450
Pairing: House/Stacy
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Although this story takes place in the future, it was originally written in mid-S3, just after the Tritter arc. It contains some earlier canon references, but takes no account of canon from that point on.
Summary: It's a little over four years since House parted from Stacy in her office at PPTH during "Need to Know". Mark has died, and fate (in the form of Wilson) will place House and Stacy back in each other's orbit. Stacy has an adopted daughter, and House has a new puzzle to work on.
Disclaimer: Don't own them. Wish I did.
Notes: The action takes place four years out from the start of S3 (at the end of a mythical S6), and forms part of how I'd like to see the series end. It was written at a simpler time in the House-verse, and may feel somewhat dated after the S4 finale, but who knows what could happen in two years? I'm trying to make the chapters feel like they could be parts of episodes, and to keep the personalities as in-character as possible.
Eternal gratitude to sassydew for encouraging me to write this story 1.5 years ago. And also for explaining how to bring it over to LJ!
Chapter 1. One Day in Early Spring
It’s one of the first warm days in Princeton, and Drs. Wilson and House are having lunch outside at the hospital cafeteria.
Wilson is eating his usual salad; he’s staring down at it, but doesn’t seem to taste it. There’s something on his mind, and House is silently calculating how long it will take to come out, when Wilson abruptly puts down his fork and looks up at House. He hesitates for a moment, and then he speaks.
“Mark Warner died."
House’s calculations stop short in mid-chew. “When?”
“Three months ago.”
“Wow. Talk about picking a lemon. Wouldn’t have been the AIP. What was it?”
“Pancreas,” Wilson answers. “Eight weeks. There was nothing we could do.”
“We? Did I miss something? He wasn’t treated here, was he? What did you do, bring him in through the back door?”
Wilson shakes his head. “They called me when his own doctor suspected it, and I referred them to Sloan.”
House puts down his sandwich. “Sloan, huh? So that friend of your father’s you were the consult on at Sloan…”
“That was Mark.”
“And that funeral you and Cuddy went to, your father’s friend’s funeral, and Cuddy knew him too…”
“That was Mark.”
House frowns. Does everyone know except him? “If it happened three months ago and you didn’t tell me then, why are you telling me now?”
“Lisa and Stacy got close again while Mark was in the hospital. You know they were good friends before….”
Wilson’s voice trails off. He is referring to a time they never mention anymore, and almost believe never happened. It’s been more than four years ago now since Stacy came back to the hospital with Mark, her sick husband, and almost left him to go back to House. Before House was shot by an angry patient, and before his failed ketamine treatment. Before he almost went to prison, before he went through detox and rehab, and stretched his friendship with James Wilson to its breaking point. Before he started dating Allison Cameron and before he almost gave her a nervous breakdown, which led to their mutual decision to part ways.
“So what do I care if they like to talk about shoes? Why are you telling me now?”
Wilson sighs. “Lisa has some outside counsel stuff for her. Stacy’s only working part time now because - ”
House interrupts him. “You’re warning me so I can leave the building before she comes in, right? Why would you want to do that? You should sell tickets so everyone can watch the fight. Who’s making book?”
House doesn’t know why he’s suddenly so irritated. Is it because he didn’t know about her, and everyone else seems to know and he should have known, too? Is it because he doesn’t want to know and Wilson shouldn’t have told him? Is it because too much has happened to him since “before”, and he wants his past to stay right where it is, safely behind him? Or maybe is it because she didn’t tell him herself?
He takes a breath and starts again. “How is she?” he asks lightly. “An inconsolable widow?”
Wilson shakes his head. “She’s changed a lot.”
House rolls his eyes. “I can imagine. Sick husband. Sick husband again. Dead husband. It’s got to take a toll, no pun intended.”
“No, she looks good, like she always did. She hasn’t changed much ….”
House’s expression is quizzical. Wilson gives a half-smile, he knows it sounds strange.
“It’s…I don’t know. She sort of…mellowed out.”
House snorts rudely and picks up his sandwich. He can think of many adjectives for the Stacy he used to know, but ‘mellow’ isn’t one of them.
Wilson gives House a wry look, knowing he’s about to deliver a shock.
“She’s had a few years of putting other people first…. I guess motherhood agrees with her.”
At this, House’s sandwich falls out of his hand. He doesn’t even try to hide his surprise.
“They had a kid?” he asks incredulously.
“They adopted a little girl from Guatemala three years ago. She’s five now. Cute kid. She’s going to miss Mark, he was crazy about her.”
House looks at his friend. Once again, Wilson has been in touch with her all along, and he never knew. Does she ever ask about him? She’d sent him a note when he was shot. She’d said Wilson had told her, and she was happy he was alive and she wished him well. He’d been glad she’d written, but he tossed the note and never responded. Better that way. He hadn’t heard from her when he was going through detox. Better that way, too.
“Did she ask you to tell me about Mark? I mean was I supposed to send a card or a fruit basket, or something? Maybe a teddy bear? Nah, that’s more your style than mine.”
Wilson knows that House is feeling defensive. He knows that House doesn’t like not being in the loop on everything - actually, not just being in the loop, being the one who tied the knot. He doesn’t like being under a microscope, either. He likes to be the one squinting into the viewfinder, and if Stacy shows up at the hospital, anyone who ever knew them will be watching. Closely.
“No, she didn’t ask me to tell you. It doesn’t matter. I’m telling you because she may come here sometimes to pick up work. So if you see her, don’t ask her how Mark is doing.”
The thought of Mark still rubs House the wrong way, and his contrarian instincts are roused.
“Listen. Tell her you told me, and ask her if it’s okay if I get in touch. You know, sympathy call, or something.”
Wilson looks skeptical. He knows that House is capable of deep and surprising sympathy, but he also knows that House rarely expresses it in any kind of conventional way.
“I don’t think that’s such a great idea,” he says. “You did a number on her. Took her a while to get over it. If you want to talk to her, why don’t you wait until you run into her here? Or better yet, why don’t you just leave her alone and let her contact you if she wants to? She hasn’t had such an easy time lately.”
“Boohoo, since when is she the only one with problems? It hasn’t been all beer and skittles for me, either.”
Wilson looks at him and says nothing.
House grins suddenly.
“Oh all right, there’s been plenty of beer, I admit, but no skittles. Just ask her if it’s okay if I call. If she says no then it’s no, that’s all.”
He stops smiling. “Hell, I wouldn’t blame her if she never wanted to talk to me again. Sometimes I never want to talk to me again.”
Wilson is surprised at this admission, but nods his agreement, and the two men continue eating in silence.
TBC