What Happened in the End? FINAL CHAPTER
Title: What Happened in the End? FINAL CHAPTER
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!
Since the action in this chapter directly follows the previous one, readers may want to skim Chapter 12 again for continuity.
Chapter 13. What Happened in the End?
It’s early evening. Isabella has gone inside to watch a video, and the music sounds faintly from upstairs. Stacy and Greg haven’t said much for a while now. They’re both very happy, but also feeling a little shy with each other, for some reason they can’t quite explain. Being happy could take some getting used to.
Greg thinks that maybe it’s time for him to go. Maybe it's been enough for one day. He gathers his things and starts to put on his riding gloves. But when he’s standing on the front porch step, something occurs to him. He turns to Stacy, who’s standing right behind him. And as he remembers Isabella doing earlier in the day, he leans his forehead down to her.
In one fluid motion, she stands on tiptoe to reach, and kisses it gently. She kisses one temple, and then the other, where his hair is touched with gray. His eyes are closed, and she kisses each eyelid in turn. He's holding his breath now, as she touches each cheek lightly with her lips. She kisses his chin, the bridge of his nose, and finally, both corners of his mouth. She draws her head back, and he opens his eyes.
She’s smiling at him, the smile he hasn’t seen since that damn airport in that damn blizzard, right before she turned his life upside down for the second time. The smile that always used to make him think of the sun coming out from behind clouds. He smiles too. That's his Stacy, and she’s going to make him do his share.
Very slowly, he bends to her mouth. He kisses her softly and brushes his lips against hers. He knows that later he’ll want more. He hopes that she will too, and they’ll give each other what they both want, but that will be later and this is now, and now is good.
He feels her lips quiver, and he also knows that later she’ll cry until she can't cry anymore, until she has no tears left. She’ll cry like she hasn’t cried since the day she left him, too many years ago.
She’ll cry for Mark’s first illness, and for the way Greg walked out of her office after he tore her world to shreds. She’ll cry for Mark’s second terrible illness and his untimely death. She’ll cry for all the years she and Greg have been apart, when they should have been together. And she’ll cry yet again for his leg and his pain and his life, blighted by a decision that she had to make all alone.
(She’ll cry about that for the rest of her life but never when he can see. He’ll know, but he’ll never let her know that he knows. It will seem like they’re lying to each other, and yes, it’s true that everybody lies, but these lies are the ones his father never told him - the lies that heal, but don’t hurt. These lies are the ones that will help them over time, more than any truth ever could.)
He doesn’t think he wants to be there when she starts to cry, so he has to lighten the mood. If he doesn’t get rid of the lump in his own throat he might join her, and that would be distinctly uncool.
“Honey," he says, in his best imitation of a TV husband from a 1960s sitcom, "I'm home." And he pulls her into his arms.
She rests her head on his shoulder. He inhales the fragrance of her hair and rocks her gently back and forth. They’ve stood together like this before, but this time no patient is waiting, there’s no ringing phone, no third person between them, no blame. Just the two of them and Isabella’s laugh coming through the open window.
“Still fits, after all this time,” she says.
He can tell from the curve of her cheek that she’s smiling. He pulls her even closer. His breath tickles her ear.
“What’s for dinner?” he whispers.
She takes aim carefully. Making sure to avoid his bad leg, she steps down on his foot with all her strength.
“Ouch!!” he yells, pulling away from her. “What was that for??”
“You’re asking me what’s for dinner? At a time like this?” She shakes her head at him in disbelief. “Honestly, Greg. Only you. I can’t believe you’re still such a - ”
He’s placed his finger gently on her lips, and his eyes dance. He hasn’t heard her say that in a very long time, and he had to hear her say it now to believe that this is real.
“You don’t have to tell me,” he grins. “I know.”
She has to laugh. She knows, too. And although it will take him some time to believe her, she wouldn’t have him any other way.
“Well, I guess it’s good that some things never change,” she says. “Come on, let’s go in. You sound hungry.”
Still smiling at each other, they exchange a long look. It’s a look of understanding, of acceptance. It’s a look of confidence. A look of love.
Then he puts his arm around her, and they go inside.
THE END