What Happened in the End? Chapter 10.
Title: What Happened in the End? Chapter 10.
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!
The action in Chapter 10 takes place immediately after the conversation in Chapter 9, so I didn't want too much of a time lag between installments.
Chapter 10. And a Hard Place
House slips in to Wilson’s office through the terrace door, and sits down in the chair that Stacy has just vacated.
“Cancer patients suing the pants off you, Jimmy?”
Wilson continues to leaf through his pile of MRIs, without looking up.
“Not currently," he responds. "What do you want, House?”
“What makes you think I want something? Can’t a guy stop in to see how his best buddy is doing without wanting something?”
“A guy can, but you can’t, House. Besides, we just had lunch an hour ago and you know how I’m doing. What do you want?”
“Just to talk, Jimmy. Just to talk.”
Wilson wasn’t surprised when Stacy walked in, and he isn’t surprised now. He’s the guy stuck in the middle, and he’s pretty sure he knows what this is about. He puts down his MRI, and looks across the desk at his friend.
“Okay. So talk, House. What’s on your opportunistic, sycophantic, mendacious, so-called best buddy mind?”
“Jimmy, how often do I have to remind you not to flatter me? It’s really bad for my ego problem.”
“Talk to me, House.”
House looks at a point on the wall somewhere above Wilson's head. He pauses for a moment before he speaks.
“I’ve been going out to Short Hills the past couple of weekends.”
It comes out bluntly, but he can’t think of any other way to begin. It’s not like him to feel slightly nervous, but he does. Wilson is his closest friend, and there’s been enough trouble between them in the past. He isn’t looking for more, but there’s stuff he needs to know.
“Been staying over?”
Wilson can’t help himself. He likes details, and he’s curious. Besides, it’s a good way to figure out how far things have gone.
House raises his eyebrows.
“My goodness, Jimmy,” he answers airily. “Do you always ask such personal questions?”
“Well, are you?”
House scowls at him.
“No,” he answers shortly.
“What do you do out there?”
“Not much. Hang out.”
Wilson looks at him expectantly, waiting for more. House glances away.
“It’s been okay,” he mumbles, swallowing his words so that Wilson can barely hear him.
“What?” Wilson asks.
“I said it’s been okay.”
“I beg your pardon?” Wilson hears him this time, he’s just not sure he understands what House is saying.
“It’s nice, okay!?" House is almost shouting. "I said it’s been nice!!”
“So what’s the problem?” Wilson asks, calmly.
House lowers his voice.
“Something’s wrong," he states, flatly. "I’ve got to be missing something.”
Wilson looks at him in amazement, and throws up his hands in despair.
“Something’s wrong because it’s been nice? House, what’s the matter with you? No, wait. I know the answer to that one. You’re Greg House, that’s what’s the matter with you.”
It’s at this moment that House realizes that he probably doesn’t have to worry about Wilson. Surprised at how relieved he is, he picks up Wilson’s small desk clock and tosses it from one hand to the other.
“There’s got to be a catch,” he remarks, casually. "There always is."
“Oh, oh, I know - ” Wilson is imitating a grade school student who knows the answer. “You have to help with the dishes!”
“No, she got a dishwasher. Think of something else.”
“Her kid hates your guts.” Wilson knows the answer to this one too, but he wants to see House’s reaction.
House frowns at him.
“No, her kid is cool with me. Calls me ‘Dr. Greg’. Thinks I know everything there is to know about monster trucks - which is true, of course.”
Wilson looks at him seriously.
“Here’s one. How do you feel about having a kid in your life?”
“How would I know? Stacy does all the work.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s how it is in most families, but how do you feel about having a kid in your life?”
“Families?” House stares at him. “Good one, Jimmy. That’s a catch, all right.”
He slouches in the chair, still holding the clock.
Wilson leans over, pulls it away from him, and puts it back on the desk.
“House, do you know that she came in here just before you did, to ask me what I think is going on with you? What you’re up to? How you feel? I had to tell her I don’t know, because nobody knows. For heaven’s sake, you idiot, figure out what you want already, and if you get a chance, tell her how you feel.”
House picks up the clock again and fidgets with the alarm.
“I thought maybe you were interested,” he says.
He sounds nonchalant. Wilson isn’t fooled.
“Maybe I was, once,” he answers. “And maybe I’d go after her now, if I thought I stood a chance. But she never looked at me when you were around, and judging from what she said to me before, I don’t think she’s going to start now.”
He grabs the clock away from House once again, and sets it down.
“We’re all prisoners of the human condition, House. We all want what we can’t have. But sometimes the stars align. If you get a second chance, take it, you lucky bastard. Most people don’t even get one, and Gd knows you don’t deserve two.”
The clock alarm sounds. Wilson shuts it off.
“And you’re not getting any younger,” he adds dryly. “Exactly what are you waiting for?”
TBC
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!
The action in Chapter 10 takes place immediately after the conversation in Chapter 9, so I didn't want too much of a time lag between installments.
Chapter 10. And a Hard Place
House slips in to Wilson’s office through the terrace door, and sits down in the chair that Stacy has just vacated.
“Cancer patients suing the pants off you, Jimmy?”
Wilson continues to leaf through his pile of MRIs, without looking up.
“Not currently," he responds. "What do you want, House?”
“What makes you think I want something? Can’t a guy stop in to see how his best buddy is doing without wanting something?”
“A guy can, but you can’t, House. Besides, we just had lunch an hour ago and you know how I’m doing. What do you want?”
“Just to talk, Jimmy. Just to talk.”
Wilson wasn’t surprised when Stacy walked in, and he isn’t surprised now. He’s the guy stuck in the middle, and he’s pretty sure he knows what this is about. He puts down his MRI, and looks across the desk at his friend.
“Okay. So talk, House. What’s on your opportunistic, sycophantic, mendacious, so-called best buddy mind?”
“Jimmy, how often do I have to remind you not to flatter me? It’s really bad for my ego problem.”
“Talk to me, House.”
House looks at a point on the wall somewhere above Wilson's head. He pauses for a moment before he speaks.
“I’ve been going out to Short Hills the past couple of weekends.”
It comes out bluntly, but he can’t think of any other way to begin. It’s not like him to feel slightly nervous, but he does. Wilson is his closest friend, and there’s been enough trouble between them in the past. He isn’t looking for more, but there’s stuff he needs to know.
“Been staying over?”
Wilson can’t help himself. He likes details, and he’s curious. Besides, it’s a good way to figure out how far things have gone.
House raises his eyebrows.
“My goodness, Jimmy,” he answers airily. “Do you always ask such personal questions?”
“Well, are you?”
House scowls at him.
“No,” he answers shortly.
“What do you do out there?”
“Not much. Hang out.”
Wilson looks at him expectantly, waiting for more. House glances away.
“It’s been okay,” he mumbles, swallowing his words so that Wilson can barely hear him.
“What?” Wilson asks.
“I said it’s been okay.”
“I beg your pardon?” Wilson hears him this time, he’s just not sure he understands what House is saying.
“It’s nice, okay!?" House is almost shouting. "I said it’s been nice!!”
“So what’s the problem?” Wilson asks, calmly.
House lowers his voice.
“Something’s wrong," he states, flatly. "I’ve got to be missing something.”
Wilson looks at him in amazement, and throws up his hands in despair.
“Something’s wrong because it’s been nice? House, what’s the matter with you? No, wait. I know the answer to that one. You’re Greg House, that’s what’s the matter with you.”
It’s at this moment that House realizes that he probably doesn’t have to worry about Wilson. Surprised at how relieved he is, he picks up Wilson’s small desk clock and tosses it from one hand to the other.
“There’s got to be a catch,” he remarks, casually. "There always is."
“Oh, oh, I know - ” Wilson is imitating a grade school student who knows the answer. “You have to help with the dishes!”
“No, she got a dishwasher. Think of something else.”
“Her kid hates your guts.” Wilson knows the answer to this one too, but he wants to see House’s reaction.
House frowns at him.
“No, her kid is cool with me. Calls me ‘Dr. Greg’. Thinks I know everything there is to know about monster trucks - which is true, of course.”
Wilson looks at him seriously.
“Here’s one. How do you feel about having a kid in your life?”
“How would I know? Stacy does all the work.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s how it is in most families, but how do you feel about having a kid in your life?”
“Families?” House stares at him. “Good one, Jimmy. That’s a catch, all right.”
He slouches in the chair, still holding the clock.
Wilson leans over, pulls it away from him, and puts it back on the desk.
“House, do you know that she came in here just before you did, to ask me what I think is going on with you? What you’re up to? How you feel? I had to tell her I don’t know, because nobody knows. For heaven’s sake, you idiot, figure out what you want already, and if you get a chance, tell her how you feel.”
House picks up the clock again and fidgets with the alarm.
“I thought maybe you were interested,” he says.
He sounds nonchalant. Wilson isn’t fooled.
“Maybe I was, once,” he answers. “And maybe I’d go after her now, if I thought I stood a chance. But she never looked at me when you were around, and judging from what she said to me before, I don’t think she’s going to start now.”
He grabs the clock away from House once again, and sets it down.
“We’re all prisoners of the human condition, House. We all want what we can’t have. But sometimes the stars align. If you get a second chance, take it, you lucky bastard. Most people don’t even get one, and Gd knows you don’t deserve two.”
The clock alarm sounds. Wilson shuts it off.
“And you’re not getting any younger,” he adds dryly. “Exactly what are you waiting for?”
TBC