(no subject)
Title: What Happened in the End? Chapter 4.
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 4. Unfinished Business, Part Two
She’s been too nervous to look at him properly, but in the daylight of the kitchen she sees what James meant when he told her that Greg’s had a tough time over the past four years. She’s had a tough time too, in a different way. She wonders if he can see it on her like she sees it on him. Knowing him, he probably does.
He asks how she’s been. She tells him about Mark’s slow recovery from the AIP. She tells him about the lingering paralysis, the physical therapy, and the short period of good health before the cancer was discovered. She isn't sure what to tell him about herself or about her daughter.
So she asks how he’s been. And she almost recoils as the floodgates open in front of her.
Tritter, the battle, the drugs, the night Wilson found him and left him on the floor, the trial, detox, rehab, Allison. He omits nothing. He is matter-of-fact as he calmly relates one traumatic event after another. He could be talking about a recent vacation. She’s heard him do this kind of thing before, and she knows that he’s taking a perverse pleasure in demonstrating his indifference. But he’s not indifferent - she knows that, too. He’s holding his emotions strongly in check, and daring her to try and make him show her that he feels something.
Instead, it’s her eyes that are filled with pain. None of this would ever have happened if it hadn’t been for her.
“I wish I could have been there,” she says in a very low voice. “I wish I could have helped, but I'd probably have made things worse for you.”
“I’m glad you couldn’t see me. It wasn’t pretty.”
“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.” She gets up from the table, walks over to the window and stares outside.
She’s looking away from him as she whispers, “you didn’t deserve to be so unhappy. I did, but not you.”
“That’s crap,” comes his quick rejoinder. “No one deserves to be unhappy.”
Before the words are out of his mouth, he knows he doesn’t believe them. He's often thought that he deserved to be unhappy, and he's thought that she deserved to be unhappy too. But he hasn’t come here to extract a pound of flesh, and he doesn’t think she deserves to be as unhappy as she obviously is right now.
He looks at her. She’s fighting back tears. Suddenly he’s ashamed of himself. Why is he doing this to her? They've been through all this stuff before. Once again, knowing that she blames herself frees him to absolve her.
“Don’t be such a drama queen,” he chides her. “Everything isn’t always all about you. I brought plenty of it on myself.”
She lets her breath out sharply and turns around to look at him. He’ll always be like that, she thinks. Keep his kindness hidden away like a buried treasure he’s afraid you’ll steal. Guard it like a troll with a club. And then hand you a piece when you least expect it.
She's suddenly exasperated.
“Greg,” she says, with her hands on her hips. “Is this really your idea of how to make a sympathy call?”
“Who’s making a sympathy call?” he demands.
“You are. James said that’s why you wanted to get in touch with me.”
He shakes his head. “That guy can’t keep his mouth shut. World’s worst gossip. With friends like that …”
“You don’t need any more enemies, Greg. He’s a good friend. You’re lucky.”
She’s right. He knows Wilson is a good friend. She used to be a good friend too, once upon a time.
He takes a deep breath, and prepares to say something he’s been rehearsing to himself ever since Wilson told him about Mark. He figures it’s what he came here to say, and the way things are going, he’d better say it now or he may not get another chance.
“I want to tell you something…” he begins.
“What happened between us four years ago….I just want you to know that I didn’t do it on purpose. I didn’t try to get you back just so that I could push you away … to hurt you. You may have thought I did. So in case you ever wondered …”
He pauses, and repeats, “I wanted you to know … I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“Okay,” she says, as she nods at him, biting down on her lower lip. “Thank you for telling me that. I appreciate it. I really do.”
He takes another breath, and continues.
“Whatever you did to me, you paid for. We’re even, and there’re no hard feelings on my side. There may be on yours. I wouldn’t be surprised. But not on mine.”
She’s astonished. She’s pleased and grateful. In a strange way she’s proud of him; she knows how hard this must have been. She never expected to hear him say anything like this, and she’s at a loss for words.
He can’t read her expression and he wants to know what she’s thinking.
“Are there?” he asks. “Hard feelings? On your side?”
“There were,” she answers softly. “But life really is too short. I learned that from Mark.”
She chuckles, suddenly. “Maybe I’ll take your picture off my dart board.”
“That bad, huh?”
“For a long time,” she answers. “Just like you.”
He looks serious for a moment, and then he relaxes.
“Hey, I got nothing to worry about,” he says cheerfully. “Is your aim still as lousy as it used to be?”
TBC