Our Secret
My first House fanfic, please be kind and review.
Title: Our Secret
Rating: R for some strong language
Spoilers: 3.01
Summary: “Tell me a secret.” She says it quietly but she is begging him for something.
“Tell me a secret.” She says it quietly but she is begging him for something.
“No”
There is no explanation, just rejection, in his reply. It’s dark in her room so he can’t see her silent tears but they both know they are there. After all, he is very clever. He knows what she was asking of him. A few words from him and maybe she wouldn’t feel so damn alone. But what’s the point of deceiving yourself? The Buddhists have it right. Life is suffering. Buddhists also believe in compassion. House doesn’t. He had tried it with the woman and her paralyzed husband, but he was no good at it. Fuck it.
“When is your flight?”
“Five in the morning. I haven’t packed yet.”
“There’s still time.”
He was awkward. He just wasn’t cut out for compassion. Maybe he just didn’t want to try anymore. House didn’t really know why he had come here. He certainly hadn’t known what to do when he found her apartment door open, the lights all off. He found her huddled in the corner of her bedroom. She had let out a shaky breath when he had clumsily sat down beside her. God damn ketamine had obviously stopped working and everyday was a loss until he finally reverted back fully to his life of pain and crippledom.
They sat in silence for awhile. The clock on her bedside table glowed a green 1:30. It was late and he was tired. Cameron was probably exhausted but something about immediate grief made it impossible to sleep. And House was an insomniac so he was used to living life in the haze of sleep deprivation.
Cameron moved to get up. “I should pack now.” Her voice was shaky. She turned on the small lamp on the bedside table. The tear stains on her cheeks shined in the soft light. House thought she had never looked more beautiful and then chastised himself for the cliché romantic sentiment. Black clothes filled a suitcase as House sat and watched. It didn’t take long. Cameron zipped up the suitcase and took it to the living room. She came back with two tumblers and a bottle of whiskey. After turning off the light and sitting back down beside House she poured the whiskey. The clock read 2:30. It was almost time to go.
“She died alone House.”
Cameron had gotten the call at work that afternoon. Her mother’s death was completely unexpected. Her father had cried on the phone as he told her. Cameron had come straight home, booked the flight, turned off the light and had sat in the corner. She liked the corner; it made her feel like she could see whatever was coming at her. The walls behind her were a comfort. A few hours later House had come. She was so desperate to feel connected to anything. Just to hear his voice. But it was too much for him. At least he had come. She could hear him breathe, hear him shift. His leg was probably bothering him. Good, they can both be in pain.
“You should call a cab.”
“She was all alone. I should have been there.”
“You couldn’t have known. Don’t be stupid Cameron, this isn’t your fault.”
They went quiet again. A few minutes later she started to cry. She tried to be quiet, to be strong, to not show weakness in front of him. That was stupid too, so he held her hand. She wiped her eyes with her free had and drank her whiskey. They stood up together, still holding hands. House gripped hers tightly as his leg disagreed with him. They held hands until she got into the cab.
“This can be our secret Cameron.”
“Ok.”
Title: Our Secret
Rating: R for some strong language
Spoilers: 3.01
Summary: “Tell me a secret.” She says it quietly but she is begging him for something.
“Tell me a secret.” She says it quietly but she is begging him for something.
“No”
There is no explanation, just rejection, in his reply. It’s dark in her room so he can’t see her silent tears but they both know they are there. After all, he is very clever. He knows what she was asking of him. A few words from him and maybe she wouldn’t feel so damn alone. But what’s the point of deceiving yourself? The Buddhists have it right. Life is suffering. Buddhists also believe in compassion. House doesn’t. He had tried it with the woman and her paralyzed husband, but he was no good at it. Fuck it.
“When is your flight?”
“Five in the morning. I haven’t packed yet.”
“There’s still time.”
He was awkward. He just wasn’t cut out for compassion. Maybe he just didn’t want to try anymore. House didn’t really know why he had come here. He certainly hadn’t known what to do when he found her apartment door open, the lights all off. He found her huddled in the corner of her bedroom. She had let out a shaky breath when he had clumsily sat down beside her. God damn ketamine had obviously stopped working and everyday was a loss until he finally reverted back fully to his life of pain and crippledom.
They sat in silence for awhile. The clock on her bedside table glowed a green 1:30. It was late and he was tired. Cameron was probably exhausted but something about immediate grief made it impossible to sleep. And House was an insomniac so he was used to living life in the haze of sleep deprivation.
Cameron moved to get up. “I should pack now.” Her voice was shaky. She turned on the small lamp on the bedside table. The tear stains on her cheeks shined in the soft light. House thought she had never looked more beautiful and then chastised himself for the cliché romantic sentiment. Black clothes filled a suitcase as House sat and watched. It didn’t take long. Cameron zipped up the suitcase and took it to the living room. She came back with two tumblers and a bottle of whiskey. After turning off the light and sitting back down beside House she poured the whiskey. The clock read 2:30. It was almost time to go.
“She died alone House.”
Cameron had gotten the call at work that afternoon. Her mother’s death was completely unexpected. Her father had cried on the phone as he told her. Cameron had come straight home, booked the flight, turned off the light and had sat in the corner. She liked the corner; it made her feel like she could see whatever was coming at her. The walls behind her were a comfort. A few hours later House had come. She was so desperate to feel connected to anything. Just to hear his voice. But it was too much for him. At least he had come. She could hear him breathe, hear him shift. His leg was probably bothering him. Good, they can both be in pain.
“You should call a cab.”
“She was all alone. I should have been there.”
“You couldn’t have known. Don’t be stupid Cameron, this isn’t your fault.”
They went quiet again. A few minutes later she started to cry. She tried to be quiet, to be strong, to not show weakness in front of him. That was stupid too, so he held her hand. She wiped her eyes with her free had and drank her whiskey. They stood up together, still holding hands. House gripped hers tightly as his leg disagreed with him. They held hands until she got into the cab.
“This can be our secret Cameron.”
“Ok.”