| Tony goes to bootcamp to prepare for an undercover |
[22 Jan 2009|08:01pm] |
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operation for the FBI. Gibbs comes back to NCIS and is not happy to learn that Jenny has lent his Senior Field Agent to the FBI. Tony has to go back to bootcamp with his NCIS team for a drug bust...Ring any bell?
I'm pretty new to the NCIS fandom and I thank all of you for this website. I've been reading stories almost non stop for the past month!
Thanks
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| mood theme |
[30 Mar 2007|10:01pm] |
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mood |
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big test that I'm sure won't work
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| The Price of Friendship |
[18 Mar 2007|09:34pm] |
Title: The Price of Friendship
Author: Houseschick1
Pairing: House/Wilson friendship
Spoilers: Up to House vs God
Rating: K+ for some swear words
Summery: How much is friendship worth when you're offered what you've wanted for a very long time?
A/N: First real story posted. I’ve written a couple of drabbles. French is my first language, thank you for your patience. Comments welcomed, flames will be used to roast marshmallows.
Thanks to my wonderful beta lea724 who corrected my many, many mistakes.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately not mine.
Chapter 4
When Dr. Gregory House walked into the PPTH lobby, there was a kind of bounce in his step. He was smiling and that scared the nurse at the clinic. He started whistling and even the patients looked unsure at this display of good humor.
He walked towards the elevator and spotted Dr. James Wilson, head of Oncology. The man was in deep conversation with someone who House assumed was the loving someone of one of Wilson’s dying patients. A devilish smiled turned the corner of the diagnostician’s mouth.
“Dr Wilson,” he bellowed.
James Wilson cringed at the shout. He smiled apologetically at the woman next to him.
“Dr. House. I’m busy right now.”
That didn’t phase House. “Need a consult.”
Wilson took a deep, cleansing breath. Annoying man.
“I’ll send Dr. Carter to your office.”
That just wouldn’t do. House’s mind was set on annoying the oncologist. “Not good enough. I need the boy wonder on this case.”
Wilson gritted his teeth and apologized to the woman. “I am sorry. I better give Dr House his consult. He won’t leave us alone. I’ll get back to you soon. In the meantime, Charles should be back from his chemo treatment. You can sit with him.”
He bid the woman goodbye and walked slowly towards the diagnostician. The older doctor was smiling triumphantly. Wilson was not smiling.
“Couldn’t that wait? I was with the wife of a patient. We were…”
“Planning his death so she can become the fourth Mrs. Wilson?”
“Look, I don’t have time for this. What was the case you needed me for?”
The elevator’s door opened and both men walked in. House pressed the button to his floor with the tip of his cane.
“I had a strange encounter last night.”
”Let me guess, a beautiful woman named Angela.”
House frowned. “Nooooo. A dark-haired man named Bob/Fred/Stan. He offered me…”
Now it was Wilson’s turn to frown. “A deal you cannot refuse…”
“You too?”
“Yeah. But I accepted. And you…”
“Refused.”
“I can see that by the use of your cane. Why? I mean…”
“Some things are more important than two good legs. And you better forget I said that.”
Wilson swallowed the lump in his throat. House had refused the deal that would have given him back his old life. Full mobility. The opportunity to go as he pleased. Their friendship was more important to him than a normal, pain-free life…He remembered telling Rebecca Adler that House cared about him. Until today, he hadn’t been sure. Now there was no doubt. He cared.
The silence was becoming awkward. Wilson opened his mouth to say something, anything, but House beat him to it.
“So, want to go for a jog Friday night?”
Wilson lost his breath for a moment, hoping they could go, but recognized it as House’s way to deflect any mushy feelings Wilson was about to shower him with.
“How about a Hitchcock marathon?”
“You’re bringing food?”
“Don’t I always?”
The elevator’s doors opened and both men waited a while before stepping out.
“Good. It’s a date.”
And just like that, House left Wilson to ponder what he meant by date. His limp was almost unnoticeable and he started whistling again.
Wilson could have swear he recognized the melody of Faith by George Michael.
At the end of the hallway, two silhouettes appeared, unseen by the passersby. One gorgeous woman and a tall dark stranger looked down upon the two friends.
“Pay up, Bob. Or is it Fred? No, it’s Stan now, is it?” Angela teased the man. Her smile was triumphant, but the grumpy look of her companion would have put Gregory House’s own to shame.
“Not fair. Mine didn’t take the deal. I was so sure.”
“And mine took it. I told you they were both unselfish when it mattered. You know what the philosopher Jagger said…you can’t always get what you want.”
“Very funny. Here. But you’re paying lunch.”
“Sore loser!”
Both silhouettes disappeared, leaving the people of PPTH to their routine.
The End
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| The Price of Friendship |
[18 Mar 2007|09:33pm] |
Title: The Price of Friendship
Author: Houseschick1
Pairing: House/Wilson friendship
Spoilers: Up to House vs God
Rating: K+ for some swear words
Summery: How much is friendship worth when you're offered what you've wanted for a very long time?
A/N: First real story posted. I’ve written a couple of drabbles. French is my first language, thank you for your patience. Comments welcomed, flames will be used to roast marshmallows.
Thanks to my wonderful beta lea724 who corrected my many, many mistakes.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately not mine.
Chapter 3
James Wilson finished his meal with a sigh. Not one of contentment, but of boredom. Eating in an empty hotel room was depressing, but there was no way he would go back to House’s. As much as he liked his friend, living with him was tiring. The pranks, the little comments and House’s bossy ways were too much to take after a while. On the other hand, it was never boring with the older doctor. He had a view about things that was, if not accurate, at least highly entertaining.
“He can be a handful.”
Wilson almost dropped his soda. Did he forget to lock the door?
He turned and saw a gorgeous woman sitting on the chair next to theTV. She had a light complexion that her auburn hair complimented. She wore a white dress that fit her body perfectly. Beautiful was too weak a word to describe the creature that was watching him with a serene smile.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to surprise you like that.” Her smile was warm and Wilson found himself smiling despite the strangeness of the situation. He shook his head to regain his composure. There was a stranger in his room, while the door has been locked.
“Who…I mean…how did you…?” Words deserted him. He wasn’t afraid, but merely curious to know who the beautiful stranger was.
“My name is Angela. And I’m here to offer you a deal.”
Wilson opened his mouth to speak but closed it. What the hell was going on here? Was he dreaming? He didn’t remember going to sleep…
“Do not worry, Dr. Wilson. This is not a dream. And all I’m asking of you is to have a little faith.”
Faith? What did faith have to do with all that?
“Look, Miss…”
“Angela.”
“All right, Angela. How did you get in here? I’m pretty sure my door was locked. And you said you had a deal…what is this all about?”
Angela stood up and sat on the bed next to Wilson.
She looked really peaceful. And somehow, the vibes she projected put Wilson at ease. He cocked his head to the side and waited for her to continue.
Angela smiled again. “I’m here to offer you a deal that will allow your friend Dr. House to live a life without pain.”
Okay, now that was totally unexpected. House was behind all this! The man couldn’t stop playing pranks, even though Wilson was miles away from him. This was too much. He started laughing.
Angela waited patiently for the laughter to die down. After a few minutes, Wilson sobered up and shook his head, amused.
“Dr. House doesn’t know I’m here. In fact he doesn’t know me at all. This is strictly between you and me.”
Damn! Did he speak out loud? Because there was no way that she could have known what he was thinking.
“I can read your mind. And this is no trick. Dr House didn’t pay me to play a prank on you. Your friendship is like none other I’ve witnessed. But it is tainted by Dr. House’s pain. What would you give to see him painless?”
“Anything!” He didn’t even need to think about it. Their friendship had become something far more complicated than it was before the infarction. Wilson knew pain and Vicodin had played a role in this change. Before the infarction, Greg had been as sarcastic as he was now, but without the bitterness that now tainted his everyday life. Everything had been easier in those days. They relieved tension with a good run or a climb in the mountains. House had played all kind of sport, with equal talent. The few ones Wilson had not been up to, he had gladly attended to see House’s talent shine.
Yes, pain and painkillers had transformed their friendship. He sometimes longed for those earlier days. But that could never be again. It was foolish to hope for it.
“He could do all those things again. Without pain. Without the limp. He could run, climb mountains, play Lacrosse.”
Now Wilson was weird out. How did she know about the sports House used to practice?
“I told you to have faith. Now, what would you be willing to give up to give your friend his old life back?”
Wilson looked at the woman with an incredulous stare. She was serious! How could he even consider this whole thing? It was impossible. But again…if he could give House…
“I’d give anything…but I don’t have anything you might be interested in.”
For a second, Angela looked sad, but it only lasted a fleeting moment. “You have one thing. Your friendship with Dr House.”
Now Wilson was dumbfounded. His friendship with House? That was what he had to give up to give his friend his old life back? That didn’t make sense. If House and he were not friends, how would Wilson be able to help him?
“He wouldn’t need your help. He would be self sufficient again. And before his infarction, he didn’t really need help from anybody, did he?”
“Okay…if I give up my friendship with House, you’ll give him back the use of his leg and he’ll be able to live a normal life? That’s it?”
“That’s it. Don’t you think Dr. House would be happy to have the use of his full leg back?”
Wilson laughed softly. “House doesn’t do happy. Even with two legs.”
“Okay. But he would be less miserable. Am I right?”
The oncologist shrugged. “Maybe. I used to believe that I could make him less miserable. Maybe I was not enough.”
Angela put her hand on his shoulder. “You’ve been a wonderful friend to him. And I know he appreciated your friendship. Even if he doesn’t say it. What do you say? Are you willing to give up this friendship so he can be whole again?”
He will never be whole, not without me, thought Wilson. Wow, you give yourself too much credit, boy.
“When you say give up my friendship…what does that mean? What happens?”
“Well, you will still be colleagues, that won’t change. But he’ll be like any other doctor in the hospital. A little more annoying than most, but you won’t be eating lunches together. For consults, you’ll send other doctors from your department. Those kind of things.”
Wilson rubbed his neck. No more paying for every meal House consumed. No more pranks and Saturday night movies. No more cheap comments about his failure at marriage. He wouldn’t have to try to justify his friendship with House to anybody, because they would not be friends. He could do without the badgering and the insults. His life would be more quiet. He longed for quiet sometimes. And if he missed his friend, nothing could stop him for befriending him again.
“Sorry. You won’t remember you were friends. And you won’t have the desire to make friends with him.”
“Oh...Will he…will he remember?”
“It’s not for me to say.”
Wilson nodded. Could he do it? Could he give up this screwed-up friendship? House would benefit from his sacrifice…but what was in it for him?
“Just knowing, for now, that you have been the best friend Dr. House could have hoped for. And that you were the unselfish one in this relationship.” Angela smiled softly.
Unselfish…yes that was his middle name…or maybe not. He had been selfish enough to take pride in the fact that he was House’s only friend. The great doctor had chosen him and only him. Now everything would be different…but he wouldn’t remember…Wilson took a deep breath.
“Okay. I’ll give up my friendship with House. But you promise me, he will have the full use of both his legs and he won’t be in pain anymore?”
“I promise. This is proof that you are someone truly special, Dr. Wilson. Godspeed.”
Angela walked to the door. Wilson was at lost for words. He didn’t feel special.
That was it? No heavenly sounds, no light to mark the end of his friendship with House? Talk about anticlimactic!
“Wait! What do I have to do?”
“Go to sleep. When you wake up, it’ll be a done deal.”
And just like that, she disappeared.
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| The Price of Friendship |
[18 Mar 2007|09:30pm] |
Title: The Price of Friendship
Author: Houseschick1
Pairing: House/Wilson friendship
Spoilers: Up to House vs God
Rating: K+ for some swear words
Summery: How much is friendship worth when you're offered what you've wanted for a very long time?
A/N: First real story posted. I’ve written a couple of drabbles. French is my first language, thank you for your patience. Comments welcomed, flames will be used to roast marshmallows.
Thanks to my wonderful beta lea724 who corrected my many, many mistakes.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately not mine.
Chapter 2
“What?”
House was staring at Bob/Fred/Stan with an incredulous stare. His friendship with Wilson? What kind of a price was that to pay?
“You heard me.”
The tired doctor stood up, thanks to his faithful cane, somewhat gracefully. He started pacing around the room, scrubbing his face with his free hand. Time to wake up now, he thought. This was the most absurd dream he had ever had. The full use of his leg in exchange for his friendship with Wilson...
“Not a dream,” Bob/Fred/Stan said in his quiet voice.
House stopped pacing and shook his head to clear his thoughts. “What’s the catch?”
There had to be a catch. That was way too easy. The condition seemed to be...benign...who could gain from his loss of Wilson’s friendship? If Bob/Fred/Stan was sent by the devil...not that House believed in that nonsense. But IF...what use could He have of it?
Bob/Fred/Stan watched the diagnostician with amusement. Poor House. Now this was a puzzle that he wouldn’t be able to solve. The man was a genius, sure. But he was no match for Him. He decided to take pity on the obviously struggling doctor.
“No catch. Your full leg in exchange for Wilson’s friendship.”
Now House’s brain was working in overdrive. Could he afford to lose Wilson’s friendship? He had one friend. One. Not that he needed more. He had been alienating people since he was three. And most people didn’t deserve the effort it took to take interest in them. But Wilson...
“What’s gonna happen to Wilson? Will he what...poof...disappear?”
Bob/Fred/Stan’s genuine laugh startled House. The dark man seemed to be enjoying himself immensely and House had to refrain from whacking him over the head with his cane. It was far from being funny. When Bob/Fred/Stan saw the murderous gleam in the doctor’s eyes, he sobered quickly.
“Of course not. Dr. Wilson will still be head of the oncology department. You will still share neighbouring offices. But he will treat you as a colleague. An annoying colleague who thinks he’s always right and most of the time IS. When you need a consult, he’ll send one of his doctors. He won’t pay for your lunch or watch TV with you in the coma patient’s room. Nor will he help you escape Dr. Cuddy.”
Bob/Fred/Stan let his words slowly sink into House’s brain. The tired doctor sat on the couch and closed his eyes for a moment.
Wilson would be nothing more than a colleague...but...an idea just popped into House’s mind. He could make friends with Wilson again. They could go running and start their friendship all over. It would take a little time, but they could do it. Ah! He had found a loophole to the whole scam. He could be whole again and still keep Wilson.
Bob/Fred/Stan shook his head slowly, almost regretfully. “Sorry, but Wilson will never be friends with you again. You will never be able to start over because he will not have the desire to do so. He has other friends. He won’t need you.”
Sh*t! If he couldn’t keep Wilson as a friend...was being whole worth it? No Wilson meant no more macadamia nut pancakes...For Christ sake! He would just find a recipe and make some himself. And he really didn’t need Wilson to watch TV on Saturday nights.
Wilson and his boyish charm. Wilson, the womanizer, the cheater. The only reason he associated with House was because it made him look good. People focused on House’s flaws so Wilson’s went under the radar undetected. What a friend he was! Always complaining about House’s Vicodin intake. How he should give his ducklings some slack. How he shouldn’t aggravated Cuddy.
How did Wilson put it? Oh yeah! This screwed-up friendship. Well, he wasn’t the only screwed-up guy in this friendship! And didn’t Wilson tell him over and over again that he was a selfish bastard? Well, he guessed it was time to live up to his friend’s expectations.
House turned to face Bob/Fred/Stan. “If I make this deal with you, will Wilson remember that we were friends?”
“No. But you will. Can you live with that?”
Could he? Of course he could. He had sent Stacy away, didn’t he? He lived with that every day.
House looked at the dark man with curiosity. “Why me? Why not Wilson, Cameron or anybody else?”
“Who said that Wilson wasn’t offered a deal?”
“Was he?”
Now House was really curious, but Bob/Fred/Stan just smiled mysteriously. “Sorry. Confidentiality...I’m sure you heard of it.”
With that, Bob/Fred/Stan stood up from the couch. He looked at an imaginary watch and smirked. “Got to go. When you're ready to seal the deal, just put on the running shoes I’ve brought and go for a run. They’re next to your bed.”
He took a few steps toward the door and stopped. He turned to face the now exhausted doctor and nodded. “Have a nice run, Greg.”
And just like that, he disappeared.
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| The Price of Friendship |
[18 Mar 2007|09:26pm] |
Title: The Price of Friendship
Author: Houseschick1
Pairing: House/Wilson friendship
Spoilers: Up to House vs God
Rating: K+ for some swear words
Summery: How much is friendship worth when you're offered what you've wanted for a very long time?
A/N: First real story posted. I’ve written a couple of drabbles. French is my first language, thank you for your patience. Comments welcomed, flames will be used to roast marshmallows.
Thanks to my wonderful beta lea724 who corrected my many, many mistakes.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately not mine.
THE PRICE OF FRIENDSHIP
Chapter 1
“House...you are...as God made you!”
Yeah! Right! House put his helmet and keys on the table and limped to the kitchen. A beer was what he needed. After his last encounter with Jesus Boy and Wilson, he needed to unwind. House had no doubt that he and Wilson would be okay. Pity though, that the oncologist wasn’t moving back in. If House were honest with himself, he missed Wilson’s presence in the house. Mostly his cooking. And his friend was always good for a few pranks.
The blue-eyed doctor rummaged through the fridge and sighed when he found only a quart of milk and some orange juice, no doubt a remnant of Wilson’s last trip to the grocery store. No beer!
“Just great! Whisky it is, then!” House retreated to the living room and grabbed the half empty bottle sitting on the piano. He poured himself a glass and sat on the bench, hooking his cane on the side of his baby grand. He tickled the keys for a moment, lost in thought. A spasm in his right thigh made him wince and he instinctively reached for his Vicodin.
“Ah! To go back six years from now! No pain, no limp, no cane!”
Hearing those words startled House, who almost dropped the pills. He stood up and grabbed his cane in a defensive manner when he saw a tall man sitting on his couch. He looked right at home there and was looking around with interest. Dressed in all black, he had pale skin and pale eyes. His hair was jet black and with his pallor, he looked somewhat like a ghost.
“What the...”
“Hell?” finished the man with a grin. “Is it?”
House closed his eyes and shook his head. Bad meatloaf from the cafeteria. That’s what it was. All he had to do was count to ten and the strange man would be gone. 1...2...3...4...5...The rumpled doctor opened his eyes and sighed in relief. The couch was empty. House scratched his head and opened the vial to take his much needed dose of pain killer.
“Nice guitar.” The voice came from behind House, who almost lost his balance when he turned too fast to face his intruder. A burning pain shot through his right leg and the diagnostician gritted his teeth to stop the moan that was trying to escape his lips.
“Who the hell are you? How did you get in here?”
The uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach was growing. Oh, House wasn’t scared, but he was cautious.
The stranger smiled and just shrugged. “You can call me Bob or Fred...or Stan. It doesn’t matter. And I could say that I got in walking through the door, but that would be a lie, wouldn’t it? But as you know...everybody lies, right?”
Bob/Fred/Stan took a step forward and House couldn’t help but take a step back. All his wit had deserted him. He had no easy sarcastic retort to throw at the strange man. This was way too surreal. Maybe a bad batch of Vicodin...?
The dark man smirked at House’s retreat. “I’m not here to harm you. I’m here to make you a proposition you cannot refuse.”
House narrowed his eyes and expertly poured two white pills in his hand without lowering his gaze from Bob/Fred/Stan. He dry swallowed the pills and waited. He had the feeling that the stranger wasn’t finished. He was right.
“Let’s sit, shall we? Standing like that can’t be good for your leg. Not when you’re in pain,” he said without sarcasm.
House just shifted his weight on his good leg. “I’m just fine where I am.”
Bob/Fred/Stan again just shrugged and made himself comfortable on the couch. He propped his feet on the coffee table, reminiscent of the way House and Wilson always did when watching TV.
“What would you say if I could take away your pain?”
That statement snapped House’s focus back on the dark-haired man. He set his jaw and clenched his fist. What kind of a question was that? “I’d say you’re a few crayons short of a full box.”
Again, the dark-haired man smirked. “Now, now. Dr. House. No need to be insulting. I’m not one of your patients or your ducklings. If I could take away your limp, wouldn’t that make you happy?”
Now House was getting pissed. There was a strange man, no doubt an escapee from the psych ward of some random hospital in his living room, taunting him about the only thing that he could never have. All caution flew to the wind when anger settled in his chest. He limped the few steps separating him from the couch and sat next to Bob/Fred/Stan to show him that he was not intimidated or afraid.
“I don’t do happy!” was all he could think as a retort. Damn he needed to get his wit back.
The dark-haired man raised his eyebrows.”Of course not! Let me rephrase that...wouldn’t you be less miserable? Or was Wilson right? Do you like to be miserable? Do you feel it makes you special? Is that all that defines the great Gregory House?”
House was past being angry. He was truly shocked. It seemed that Bob/Fred/Stan knew things he shouldn’t know. But suddenly a thought came to his mind. Could Wilson be behind this prank? The oncologist probably gave the spare key he kept on him to the man and was waiting outside to see how his little prank went. House had to give his friend brownie points for originality. He decided to see what Bob/Fred/Stan had to say and then he would foil Wilson’s plan. Ah! Never mess with the master!
Bob/Fred/Stan shook his head. “It’s not a prank. Your friend Wilson has nothing to do with any of this. And yes, I can read your mind.”
The diagnostician paled and stiffened. Now that was weird. He didn’t believe in God and Satan. But that was...he didn’t know what that was.
“What would you be willing to give up to go back to how it was before the infarction? I’m not talking back in time. But today, with no pain, with the full use of your leg.”
This time House erupted in laughter. He couldn’t help it. This was completely insane.
He succeeded in controlling the laugh and fixed his blue-eyed gaze on the black eyes of the stranger. “Ah! There it is! You want my soul? Read Goethe, huh? My first born, maybe? A hot night with Cuddy and the twins?” he said, sarcasm coloring every word.
Bob/Fred/Stan pursed his lips and took a moment before answering. “Nothing as drastic as that.”
Both men fell silent, each waiting for the other to speak first. After a few minutes of awkward silence, House couldn’t help it. “Well?”
The dark man gave the diagnostician his trademark smirk. “Imagine yourself running in the morning...or how about those lacrosse games on Saturday afternoons...?”
Bob/Fred/Stan watched the display of emotions on House’s face. Those were long-gone pleasures for him. He had always been active. His mind and his body working at the same level of activity. Pushing his body to the maximum always ensured an outlet for the formidable complex machine that was his brain. Few people could compete with him in those days. Wilson had been the exception. Their friendship had been forged on the track, each lap cemented it for eternity. To be able to challenge Wilson on a 2K run...or just go for a climb in the mountains. He would give anything to be able to do those things again.
No more pain. No more well intended people holding the door for him. No more looks of pity...
“Tempting, isn’t it?” Bob/Fred/Stan interrupted House from his reverie.
The rumpled doctor rubbed his eyes. He was tired and thinking of what could never be again wasn’t helping.
“But it can be! You can do all those things again. All you have to do is give up one thing.” Bob/Fred/Stan’s voice was very soft, yet pleading.
House closed his eyes and dropped his head back. Could he? Could he really be whole again? Did he want to be? Was Wilson right? Was he so afraid that if he changed, he would lose the essence of who he was? Would he have the same drive to solve puzzles if he didn’t have the pain to deal with? Could he take that chance?
Bob/Fred/Stan watched the war going on on House’s face. He really needed to give a little push in the right direction if he wanted the diagnostician to make the deal.
“You’ll be the same sarcastic bastard you’ve ever been and yes, you’ll continue to solve the puzzles...you’ll still be the great Gregory House.”
At those words, House opened his eyes and looked at Bob/Fred/Stan with what seemed like fear. Fear of believing it could be true. Fear of the unknown. Fear that this was just a dream and in the morning, all that would be left was disappointment and pain. Oh, Bob/Fred/Stan thought, that one is ready for the taking...
“Believe in yourself. It can be yours. You just have to say yes.”
House narrowed his eyes and desperately tried to find any deception in the stranger’s eyes. But he couldn’t find any. There was a raging war going on inside him. Should he? What would be the price to pay? Because he had no doubt that it was gonna cost him big. But what? And could he afford it? The rumpled doctor took a deep breath.
“What do I have to give up?”
Bob/Fred/Stan did a little dance inside his head, but kept his face blank.
“Your friendship with Wilson.”
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| The price fof friendship. Finished but unbetaed. |
[18 Mar 2007|01:37pm] |
Title: The price of friendship
Author: Houseschick1
Pairing: House/Wilson
Spoilers: Up to House vs God
Rating: K+ for some swear words
Summery: How much is worth friendship when you're offered what you've wanted for a very long time?
Disclaimer: Unfortunately not mine.
THE PRICE OF FRIENDSHIP
Chapter 1
“House...You are... as God made you!”
Yeah! Right! House put his helmet and keys on the table and limped to the kitchen. A beer was what he needed. After his last encounter with Jesus Boy and Wilson, he needed to unwind. House had no doubt that he and Wilson would be okay. Pity though, that the oncologist wasn’t moving back in. If House were honest with himself, he missed Wilson’s presence in the house. Mostly his cooking. And his friend was always good for a few pranks.
The blue eyes doctor rummaged through the fridge and sighed when he found only a quart of milk and some orange juice, no doubt a remnant of Wilson’s last trip to the grocery store. No beer!
“Just great! Whisky it is then!” House retreated to the living room and grabbed the half empty bottle sitting on the piano. He poured himself a glass and sat on the bench, hooking his cane on the side of his baby grand. He tickled the keys for a moment, lost in thoughts. A spasm in his right thigh made him wince and he instinctively reached for his vicodin.
“Ah! To go back six years from now! No pain, no limp, no cane!”
Hearing those words startled House, who almost dropped the pills. He grabbed his cane in a defensive manner when he saw a tall man sitting on his couch. He looked right at home there and was looking around with interest. All dressed in black, he had pale skin and pale eyes. His hair was jay black and with his pallor he looked somewhat like a ghost.
“What the...”
“Hell?”, finished the man with a grin. “Is it?”
House closed his eyes and shook his head. Bad meatloaf from the cafeteria. That’s what it was. All he had to do was count to ten and the strange man would be gone. 1...2...3...4...5...The rumpled doctor opened his eyes and sighed in relief. The couch was empty. House scratched his head and opened the vial to take his much needed dose of pain killer.
‘Nice guitar.” The voice came from behind House, who almost lost his balance when he turned too fast to face his intruder. A burning pain shot through his right leg and the diagnostician gritted his teeth to stop the moan that was trying to escape his lips.
“Who the hell are you? How did you get in here?”
The uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach was growing. Oh, House wasn’t scared, but he was cautious.
The stranger smiled and just shrugged. “You can call me Bob or Fred...or Stan. It doesn’t matter. And I could say that I got in walking through the door, but that would be a lie, wouldn’t it? But as you know...everybody lie, right?”
Bob/Fred/Stan took a step forward and House couldn’t help but take a step back. All his wit had deserted him. He had no easy sarcastic retort to throw at the strange man. This was way too surreal. Maybe a bad batch of vicodin...?
The dark man smirked at House’s retreat. “I’m not here to harm you. I’m here to make you a proposition you can not refuse.”
House narrowed his eyes and expertly poured two white pills in his hand without lowering his gaze from Bob/Fred/Stan. He dry swallowed the pills and waited. He had the feeling that the stranger wasn’t finished. He was right.
“Lets sit, shall we? Standing like that can’t be good for your leg. Not when you’re in pain”, he said without sarcasm.
House just shifted his weight on his good leg. “I’m just fine where I am.”
Bob/Fred/Stan again just shrugged and made himself comfortable on the couch. He propped his feet on the coffee table, reminiscent of the way House and Wilson always did when watching tv.
“What would you say if I could take away your pain?”
That statement snapped House’s focus back on the dark man. He set his jaw and clenched his fist. What kind of a question was that? “I’d say you’re a few crayons short of a full box..”
Again, the dark man smirked. “Now now, Dr House. No need to be insulting. I’m not one of your patient or your ducklings. If I could take away your limp, wouldn’t that make you happy?”
Now House was getting pissed. There was a strange man, no doubt an escapee from the psych ward of some random hospital, in his living room, taunting him about the only thing that he could never have. All caution flew to the wind when anger settled in his chest. He limped the few steps separating him from the couch and sat next to Bob/Fred/Stan to show that he was not intimidated nor afraid.
“I don’t do happy!”, was all he could think as a retort. Damn he needed to get his wit back.
The dark man raised his eyebrows.”Of course not! Let me rephrase that...Wouldn’t you be less miserable? Or was Wilson right? Do you like to be miserable? Do you feel it makes you special? Is that all that defines the great Gregory House?”
House was passed being angry. He was truly shocked. It seemed that Bob/Fred/Stan knew things he shouldn’t know. But suddenly a thought came to his mind. Could Wilson be behind this prank? The oncologist probably gave the spare key he kept on him to the man and was waiting outside to see how his little prank went. House had to give his friend brownie points for originality. He decided to see what Bob/Fred/Stan had to say and then he would foil Wilson’s plan. Ah! Never mess with the master!
Bob/Fred/Stan shook his head. “It’s not a prank. Your friend Wilson has nothing to do with all of this. And yes I can read your mind.”
The diagnostician paled and stiffened. Now that was weird. He didn’t believe in God and Satan. But this was...he didn’t know what that was.
“What would you be ready to give up to go back before the infarction? I’m not talking back in time. But today, with no pain, with the full use of your leg.”
This time House erupted in laughter. He couldn’t help it. This was completely insane.
He succeeded in controlling the laugh and fixed his blue gaze in the black one of the stranger. “Ah! There it is! You want my soul? Read Goethe uh? My first born maybe? A hot night night with Cuddy and the twins?”, sarcasm coloring every word.
Bob/Fred/Stan pursed his lips and took a moment before answering. “Nothing as drastic as that.”
Both men fell silent, each waiting for the other to speak first. After a few minutes of awkward silence, House couldn’t help it. “Well?”
The dark man gave the diagnostician his trademark smirk. “Imagine yourself running in the morning...Or how about those lacrosse games on saturday afternoons...”
Bob/Fred/Stan watched the display of emotions on House’s face. Those were long gone pleasures for him. He had always been active. His mind and his body working on the same level of activity. Pushing his body to the maximum always assured an outlet for the formidable complex machine that was his brain. Few people could compete with him in those days. Wilson had been the exception. Their friendship had been forged on the track, each lap cemented it for eternity. To be able to challenge Wilson on a 2k run...Or just go for a climb in the mountains. He would give anything to be able to do those things again.
No more pain. No more well intent people holding the door for him. No more looks of pity...
“Tempting, is it?” Bob/Fred/Stan interrupted House from his reverie.
The rumpled doctor rubbed his eyes. He was tired and thinking of what could never be again wasn’t helping.
“But it can be! You can do all those things again. All you have to do is give up one thing.” Bob/Fred/Stan’s voice was very soft, yet pleading.
House closed his eyes and dropped his head back. Could he? Could he really be whole again? Did he want to be? Was Wilson right? Was he so afraid that if he changed, he would lose the essence of who he was? Would he have the same drive to solve puzzles if he didn’t have the pain to deal with? Could he take that chance?
Bob/Fred/Stan watched the war going on House’s face. He really needed to give a little push in the right direction if he wanted the diagnostician to make the deal.
“You’ll be the same sarcastic bastard you’ve ever been and yes, you’ll continue to solve the puzzles....You’ll still be the great Gregory House.”
At those words, House opened his eyes and looked at Bob/Fred/Stan with what seemed fear. Fear of believing it could be true. Fear of the unknown. Fear that this was just a dream and in the morning all would be left was disappointment and pain. Oh, Bob/Fred/Stan thought, that one is ready for the taking...
“Believe in yourself. It can be yours. You just have to say yes.”
House narrowed his eyes and desperately tried to find any deception in the stranger’s eyes. But he couldn’t find any. There was a raging war going on inside him. Should he? What would be the price to pay? Because he had no doubt that it was gonna cost him big. But what? And could he afford it? The rumpled doctor took a deep breath.
“What do I have to give up?”
Bob/Fred/Stan did a little dance inside his head, but kept his face blank.
“Your friendship with Wilson.”
Chapter 2
“What?”
House was staring at Bob/Fred/Stan with an incredulous stare. His friendship with Wilson? What kind of a price was that to pay?
“You heard me.”
The tired doctor stood up, thanks to his faithful cane, somewhat gracefully. He started pacing around the room, scrubbing his face with his free hand. Time to wake up now, he thought. This was the most absurd dream he had ever had. The full use of his leg in exchange for his friendship with Wilson....
“Not a dream”, Bob/Fred/Stan said in his quiet voice.
House stopped pacing and shook his head to clear his thoughts. “What’s the catch?”
There had to be a catch. That was too way too easy. The condition seemed to be...benign...Who could gain from his loss of Wilson’s friendship? If Bob/Fred/Stan was sent by the devil...not that House believed in that nonsense. But IF...what use could He have of it?
Bob/Fred/Stan watched the diagnostician with amusement. Poor House. Now this was a puzzle that he wouldn’t be able to solve. The man was a genius, sure. But he was no match for Him. He decided to take pity on the obviously struggling doctor.
“No catch. Your full leg in exchange for Wilson’s friendship.”
Now, House’s brain was working overdrive. Could he afford to lose Wilson’s friendship? He had one friend. One. Not that he needed more. He had been alienating people since he was three. And most people didn’t deserve the effort to only take interest on them. But Wilson...
“What’s gonna happen to Wilson? He will what...poof...disappear?”
Bob/Fred/Stan’s genuine laugh startled House. The dark man seemed to enjoy himself immensely and House had to refrain from whacking him over the head with his cane. It was far from being funny. When Bob/Fred/Stan saw the murderous gleam in the doctor’s eyes, he sobered quickly.
“Of course not. Dr Wilson will still be head of the Oncology department. You will still share neighbor offices. But he will treat you as a colleague. An annoying colleague who thinks he’s always right and most of the time, IS. When you need a consult, he’ll send one of his doctor. He won’t pay for your lunch or watch tv with you in the coma patient room. Not will he help you escape Dr Cuddy.”
Bob/Fred/Stan let his words slowly sink into House’s brain. The tired doctor sat on the couch and closed his eye for a moment.
Wilson would be nothing more than a colleague...But...An idea just popped into House’s mind. He could make friends with Wilson again. They could go run and start their friendship all over. It would take a little time but they could do it. Ah! He had found a loophole to the whole scam. He could be whole again and still keep Wilson.
Bob/Fred/Stan shook his head slowly, almost regretfully. “Sorry but Wilson will never be friends with you again. You will never be able to start over because he will not have the desire to do so. He has other friends. He won’t need you.”
Sh*t! If he couldn’t keep Wilson as a friend...was being whole worth it? No Wilson meant no more macadamia nut pancakes...For Christ sake! He would just found a recipe and make himself some. And he really didn’t need Wilson to watch tv on saturday nights.
Wilson and his boyish charm. Wilson the womanizer, the cheater. The only reason he associated with House was because it made him look good. People focused on House’s flaws so Wilson’s went under the radar, undetected. What a friend he was! Always complaining about House’s vicodin intake. How he should give his ducklings some slack. How he shouldn’t aggravated Cuddy.
How did Wilson put it? Oh yeah! This screwed up friendship. Well he wasn’t the only screwed up in this friendship! And didn’t Wilson tell him over and over again that he was a selfish bastard? Well he guessed it was time to live up to his friend’s expectations.
House turned to face Bob/Fred/Stan. “if I make this deal with you, will Wilson remember that we were friends?”
“No. But you will. Can you live with that?”
Could he? Of course he could. He had sent Stacy away, didn’t he? He lived with that every day.
House looked at the dark man with curiousity. “Why me? Why not Wilson or Cameron or anybody else?”
“Who said that Wilson wasn’t offered a deal?”
“Was he?”
Now House was really curious, but Bob/Fred/Stan just smiled mysteriously. “Sorry. Confidentiality...I’m sure you heard of it.”
With that Bob/Fred/Stan stood up from the couch. He looked at an imaginary watch and smirked. “Got to go. When you're ready to seal the deal, just put on the running shoes I’ve brought and go for a run. They’re next to your bed.”
He took a few steps toward the door and stopped. He turned to face the now exhausted doctor and nodded. “Have a nice run Greg.”
And just like that he disappeared.
Chapter 3
James Wilson finished his meal with a sigh. Not of contentment, but of boredom. Eating in an empty hotel room was depressing, but there was no way he would go back at House’s. As much as he liked his friend, living with him was tiring. The pranks, the little comments and House’s bossy ways were too much to take after a while. On the other hand, it was never boring with the older doctor. He had a view about things that was, if not accurate, at least highly entertaining.
“He can be a handful.”
Wilson almost dropped his soda. Did he forget to lock the door?
He turned and saw a gorgeous woman sitting on the chair next to the tv. She had a light complexion that her auburn hair was complimenting. She wore a white dress that fit her body perfectly. Beautiful was too weak a word to describe the creature that was watching him with a serene smile.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to surprise you like that.” Her smile was warm and Wilson find himself smiling despite the strangeness of the situation. He shook his head to regain his composure. There was a stranger in his room, while the door has been locked.
“Who…I mean… How did you…”? His words deserted him. He wasn’t afraid, but merely curious to know who the beautiful stranger was.
“My name is Angela. And I’m here to offer you a deal.”
Wilson opened his mouth to speak but closed it. What the hell was going on here? Was he dreaming? He didn’t remember going to sleep…
“Do not worry, Dr Wilson. This is not a dream. And all I’m asking of you is to have a little faith.”
Faith? What did faith has to do with all that?
“Look, Miss…”.
“Angela.”
“Alright Angela. How did you get in here? I’m pretty sure my door was locked. And you said you had a deal…What is this all about?”
Angela stood up and sat on the bed next to Wilson.
She looked really peaceful. And somehow, the vibes she projected made Wilson at ease. He cocked his head on the side and waited for her to continue.
Angela smiled again. “I’m here to offer you a deal that will allow your friend Dr House to live a life without pain.”
Okay, now that was totally unexpected. House was behind all this! The man couldn’t even stop playing pranks, even though Wilson was miles away from him. This was too much. He started laughing.
Angela waited patiently for the laughter to die. After a few minutes, Wilson sobered up and shook his head, amused.
“Dr House doesn’t know I’m here. In fact he doesn’t know me at all. This is strictly between you and me.”
Damn! Did he speak out loud? Because there was no way that she could have known what he was thinking.
“I can read your mind. And this is no tricks. Dr House didn’t pay me to play a prank on you. Your friendship is like no other I had witnessed. But it is tainted by Dr House’s pain. What would give to see him painless.”
“Anything!” He didn’t even need to think about it. Their friendship had muted into something far more complicated than it was before the infarction. Wilson knew pain had played a role in this change. Before the infarction, Greg had been as sarcastic has he was now, but without the bitterness that now tainted his everyday life. Everything had been easier in those days. They relieved tension with a good run or a climb in the mountains. House had played all kind of sports, with equal talent. The few ones Wilson had not been up to, he had gladly attended to see House’s talent shine.
Yes, pain and painkillers had transformed their friendship. He sometimes longed for those earlier days. But that could never be again. It was foolish to hope for it.
“He could do all those things again. Without pain. Without the limp. He could run, climb mountains, play Lacrosse.”
Now Wilson was weird out. How did she know about the sports House used to practice?
“I told you to have faith. Now, what would you be willing to give up to give your friend his old life back?”
Wilson looked at the woman with an incredulous stare. She was serious! How could he even consider this whole thing? It was impossible. But again…if he could give House…
“I’d give anything…but I don’t have anything you might be interested in.”
For a second, Angela looked sad, but it only lasted a fleeting moment. “You have one thing. Your friendship with Dr House.”
Now Wilson was dumbfounded. His friendship with House? That was what he had to give up to give his friend his old life back. That didn’t make sense. If House and he were not friends, how would Wilson be able to help him?
“He wouldn’t need your help. He would be self sufficient again. And before his infarction, he didn’t really need help from anybody, did he?”
“Okay…If I give up my friendship with House, you’ll give him back the use of his leg and he’ll be able to live a normal life? That’s it.”
“That’s it. Don’t you thing Dr House would be happy to have his full leg back?”
Wilson laughed softly. “House don’t do happy. Even with two legs.”
“Okay. But he would be less miserable. Am I right?”
The oncologist shrugged. “Maybe. I used to believe that I could make him less miserable. Maybe I was not enough.”
Angela put her hand on his shoulder. “You’ve been a wonderful friend to him. And I know he appreciated your friendship. Even if he doesn’t say it. What do you say? Are you willing to give up this friendship so he can be whole again?”
‘He will never be whole, not without me, thought Wilson. Wow, you give yourself too much credit , boy.
“When you say give up my friendship…what does that mean? What happens?”
“Well you will still be colleagues, that won’t change. But he’ll be like any other doctor in the hospital. A little more annoying than most, but you won’t be eating lunches together. For consult, you’ll send other doctors from your department. Those kind of things.”
Wilson rubbed his neck. No more paying for every meal House consumed. No more pranks and Saturday night movies. No more cheap comments about his failure at marriage. He wouldn’t have to try to justify his friendship with House to anybody, because they would not be friends. He could do without the badgering and the insults. His life would be more quiet. He longed for quiet sometimes. And if he missed his friend, nothing could stop him for befriending him again.
“Sorry. You won’t remember you were friends. And you won’t have the desire to make friends with him.”
“Oh!...Will he…Will he remember?”
“It’s not for me to say.”
Wilson nodded. Could he do it? Could he give up this screwed up friendship? House would benefit from his sacrifice…but what was in it for him?
“Just knowing, for now, that you have been the best friend Dr House could have hoped for. And that you were the unselfish one in this relationship.” Angela smiled softly.
Unselfish…Yes that was his middle name…Or maybe not. He had been selfish enough to take pride in the fact that he was House’s only friend. The great doctor had chosen him and only him. Now everything would be different…But he wouldn’t remember….Wilson took a deep breath.
“Okay. I’ll give up my friendship with House. But you promise me, he will have the full use of both his legs and he won’t be in pain anymore?”
“I promise. This is the proof that you are someone truly special, Dr Wilson. Godspeed.”
Angela walked to the door. Wilson was at lost for words. That was it? No heavenly sounds, no lights to mark the end of his friendship with House. Talk about anticlimactic!
“Wait! What do I have to do?”
“Go to sleep. When you wake up it’ll be a done deal.”
And just like that, she disappeared.
Chapter 4
When Dr Gregory House walked into the PPTH lobby, there was a kind of bounce into his step. He was smiling and that scared the nurse at the clinic. He started whistling and even the patients looked unsure at this display of good humor.
He walked toward the elevator and spotted Dr James Wilson, head of Oncology. The man was in deep conversation with who House assumed the loving someone of one of Wilson’s dying patient. A devilish smiled turned the corner of the diagnostician’s mouth.
“Dr Wilson”, he bellowed.
James Wilson cringed at the shout. He smiled apologetically at the woman next to him.
“Dr House. I’m busy right now.”
That didn’t phase House. “Need a consult.”
Wilson took a deep cleansing breath. Annoying man.
“I’ll send Dr Carter to your office.”
That just wouldn’t do. House’s mind was set to annoy the oncologist. “Not good enough. I need the boy wonder on this case.”
Wilson gritted his teeth and apologized to the woman. “I am sorry. I better give Dr House his consult. He won’t leave us alone. I’ll get back to you soon. In the mean time, Charles should be back from his chemo treatment. You can sit with him.”
He bid the woman goodbye and walked slowly toward the diagnostician. The older doctor was smiling triumphantly. Wilson was not smiling.
“Couldn’t that wait? I was with the wife of a patient. We were…”
“Planning his death so she can become the fourth Mrs. Wilson?”
“Look, I don’t have time for this. What is the case you need me to consult?”
The elevator’s door opened and both men walked in. House pressed the button to his floor with the tip of his cane.
“I had a strange encounter last night.”
”Let me guess, a beautiful woman named Angela.”
House frowned. “Nooooo. A dark man named Bob/Fred/Stan. He offered me…”
Now it was Wilson’s turn to frown. “A deal you cannot refused…”
“You too?”
“Yeah. But I accepted. And you…”
“Refused.”
“I can see that by the use of your cane. Why? I mean…”
“Some things are more important that two good legs. And you better forget I said that.”
Wilson swallowed the lump in his throat. House had refused the deal that would have given him back his old life. Full mobility. The opportunity to go as he pleased. Their friendship was more important to him than a normal, pain free life…He remembered telling Rebecca Adler that House cared about him. Until today, he hadn’t been sure. Now there was no doubt. He cared.
The silence was becoming awkward. Wilson opened his mouth to say something, anything, but House beat him to it.
“So, want to go for a jog Friday night?”
Wilson lost his breath for a moment, hoping they could go, but recognized it as House’s way to deflect any mushy feelings Wilson was about to shower him with.
“How about a Hitchcock marathon?”
“You’re bringing food?”
“Don’t I always?”
The elevator’s doors opened and both men waited a while before stepping out.
“Good. It’s a date.”
And just like that House left Wilson to ponder what he meant by date. His limp was almost unnoticeable and he started whistling again.
Wilson could have swear he recognized the melody of Faith, by Georges Michael.
The End
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[13 Oct 2006|04:03am] |
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thanks to lidi
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| A House/Wilson story |
[26 Sep 2006|06:19pm] |
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Well I finally kicked my butt and put on paper what I had in my head for almost a year. It's a little story about H/W friendship (the title probably gave it away. lol) I have the first 2 chapters written. There will probably be 2 more. I'll continue writing tomorrow or thursday. Hopefully by then I will have find a beta to proof read it.
Here it goes.
Title: The price of friendship
Author: Houseschick1
Pairing: House/Wilson
Spoilers: Up to House vs God
Rating: K+ for some swear words
Summery: How much is worth friendship when you're offered what you've wanted for a very long time?
Disclaimer: Unfortunately not mine.
The Price of Friendship
Chapter 1
“You are... as God made you!”
Yeah! Right! House put his helmet and keys on the table and limped to the kitchen. A beer was what he needed. After his last encounter with Jesus Boy and Wilson, he needed to unwind. House had no doubt that he and Wilson would be okay. Pity though, that the oncologist wasn’t moving back in. If House were honest with himself, he missed Wilson’s presence in the house. Mostly his cooking. And his friend was always good for a few pranks.
The blue eyed doctor rummaged through the fridge and sighed when he found only a quart of milk and some orange juice, no doubt a remnant of Wilson’s last trip to the grocery store. No beer!
“Just great! Whisky it is then!” House retreated to the living room and grabbed the half empty bottle sitting on the piano. He poured himself a glass and sat on the bench, hooking his cane on the side of his baby grand. He tickled the keys for a moment, lost in thoughts. A spasm in his thigh made him wince and he instinctively reached for his vicodin.
“Ah! To go back six years from now! No pain, no limp, no cane!”
Hearing those words startled House, who almost dropped the pills. He grabbed his cane in a defensive manner when he saw a tall man sitting on his couch. He looked right at home there and was looking around with interest. All dressed in black, he had pale skin and pale eyes. His hair was jay black and with his pallor he looked somewhat like a ghost.
“What the...”
“Hell?”, finished the man with a grin. “Is it?”
House closed his eyes and shook his head. Bad meatloaf from the cafeteria. That’s what it was. All he had to do was count to ten and the strange man would be gone. 1...2...3...4...5...The rumpled doctor opened his eyes and sighed in relief. The couch was empty. House scratched his head and opened the vial to take his much needed dose of pain killer.
‘Nice guitar.” The voice came from behind House, who almost lost his balance when he turned too fast to face his intruder. A burning pain shot through his right leg and the diagnostician gritted his teeth to stop the moan that was trying to escape his lips.
“Who the hell are you? How did you get in here?”
The uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach was growing. Oh, House wasn’t scared, but he was cautious.
The stranger smiled and just shrugged. “You can call me Bob or Fred...or Stan. It doesn’t matter. And I could say that I got in walking through the door, but that would be a lie, wouldn’t it? But as you know...everybody lie, right?”
Bob/Fred/Stan took a step forward and House couldn’t help but take a step back. All his wit had deserted him. He had no easy sarcastic retort to throw at the strange man. This was way too surreal. Maybe a bad batch of vicodin...?
The dark man smirked at House’s retreat. “I’m not here to harm you. I’m here to make you a proposition you can not refuse.”
House narrowed his eyes and expertly poured two white pills in his hand without lowering his gaze from Bob/Fred/Stan. He dried swallowed the pills and waited. He had the feeling that the stranger wasn’t finished. He was right.
“Lets sit, shall we? Standing like that can’t be good for your leg. Not when you’re in pain”, he said without sarcasm.
House just shifted his weight on his good leg. “I’m just fine where I am.”
Bob/Fred/Stan again just shrugged and made himself comfortable on the couch. He propped his feet on the coffee table, reminiscent of the way House and Wilson always did when watching tv.
“What would you say if I could take away your pain?”
That statement snapped House’s focus back on the dark man. He set his jaw and clenched his fist. What kind of a question was that? “I’d say you’re a few crayons short of a full box..”
Again, the dark man smirked. “Now now, Dr House. No need to be insulting. I’m not one of your patient or your ducklings. If I could take away your limp, wouldn’t that make you happy?”
Now House was getting pissed. There was a strange man, no doubt an escapee from the psych ward of some random hospital, in his living room, taunting him about the only thing that he could never have. All caution flew to the wind when anger settled in his chest. He limped the few steps separating him from the couch and sat next to Bob/Fred/Stan to show that he was not intimidated nor afraid.
“I don’t do happy!”, was all he could think as a retort. Damn he needed to get his wit back.
The dark man raised his eyebrows.”Of course not! Let me rephrase that...Wouldn’t you be less miserable? Or was Wilson right? Do you like to be miserable? Do you feel it makes you special? Is that all that defines the great Gregory House?”
House was passed being angry. He was truly shocked. It seemed that Bob/Fred/Stan knew things he shouldn’t know. But suddenly a thought came to his mind. Could Wilson be behind this prank? The oncologist probably gave the spare key he kept on him to the man and was waiting outside to see how his little prank went. House had to give his friend brownie points for originality. He decided to see what Bob/Fred/Stan had to say and then he would foil Wilson’s plan. Ah! Never mess with the master!
Bob/Fred/Stan shook his head. “It’s not a prank. Your friend Wilson has nothing to do with all of this. And yes I can read your mind.”
The diagnostician paled and stiffened. Now that was weird. He didn’t believe in God and Satan. But this was...he didn’t know what that was.
“What would you be ready to give up to go back before the infarction? I’m not talking back in time. But today, with no pain, with the full use of your leg.”
This time House erupted in laughter. He couldn’t help it. This was completely insane.
He succeeded in controlling the laugh and fixed his blue gaze in the black one of the stranger. “Ah! There it is! You want my soul? Read Goethe uh? My first born maybe? A hot night night with Cuddy and the twins?”, sarcasm coloring every word.
Bob/Fred/Stan pursed his lips and took a moment before answering. “Nothing as drastic as that.”
Both men fell silent, each waiting for the other to speak first. After a few minutes of awkward silence, House couldn’t help it. “Well?”
The dark man gave the diagnostician his trademark smirk. “Imagine yourself running in the morning...Or how about those lacrosse games on saturday afternoons...”
Bob/Fred/Stan watched the display of emotions on House’s face. Those were long gone pleasures for him. He had always been active. His mind and his body working on the same level of activity. Pushing his body to the maximum always assured an outlet for the formidable complex machine that was his brain. Few people could compete with him in those days. Wilson had been the exception. Their friendship had been forged on the track, each lap cemented it for eternity. To be able to challenge Wilson on a 2k run...Or just go for a climb in the mountains. He would give anything to be able to do those things again.
No more pain. No more well intent people holding the door for him. No more looks of pity...
“Tempting, is it?” Bob/Fred/Stan interrupted House from his reverie.
The rumpled doctor rubbed his eyes. He was tired and thinking of what could never be again wasn’t helping.
“But it can be! You can do all those things again. All you have to do is give up one thing.” Bob/Fred/Stan’s voice was very soft, yet pleading.
House closed his eyes and dropped his head back. Could he? Could he really be whole again? Did he want to be? Was Wilson right? Was he so afraid that if he changed, he would lose the essence of who he was? Would he have the same drive to solve puzzles if he didn’t have the pain to deal with? Could he take that chance?
Bob/Fred/Stan watched the war going on House’s face. He really needed to give a little push in the right direction if he wanted the diagnostician to make the deal.
“You’ll be the same sarcastic bastard you’ve ever been and yes, you’ll continue to solve the puzzles....You’ll still be the great Gregory House.”
At those words, House opened his eyes and looked at Bob/Fred/Stan with what seemed fear. Fear of believing it could be true. Fear of the unknown. Fear that this was just a dream and in the morning all would be left was disappointment and pain. Oh, Bob/Fred/Stan thought, that one is ready for the taking...
“Believe in yourself. It can be yours. You just have to say yes.”
House narrowed his eyes and desperately tried to find any deception in the stranger’s eyes. But he couldn’t find any. There was a raging war going on inside him. Should he? What would be the price to pay? Because he had no doubt that it was gonna cost him big. But what? And could he afford it? The rumpled doctor took a deep breath.
“What do I have to give up?”
Bob/Fred/Stan did a little dance inside his head, but kept his face blank.
“Your friendship with Wilson.”
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| Just musing |
[26 Sep 2005|10:23pm] |
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Hallelujah by Jeff Buckley |
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Again it's been a while since I've updated my LJ. Work is crazy and I have little time. I have started a new story and as always I have to kick myself to continue. The ideas are there, I'm just lazy. On a happy note, Amazon just confirmed that they have shipped my copy of Girl from Rio. At last! Ive been waiting for 3 months. Something about it being out of order. I'll be able to indulge myself in a little Hugh greatness. Yummy.
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| Been a while... |
[31 Aug 2005|11:57pm] |
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Rolling Stones : You can't always get what you want |
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I thought that I would be more incline to keep a journal if it was a livejournal instead of a plain ol' pen and paper one...guess I was wrong! It's been so long since I've come to my lj that I couldn't remember my password!
I've been thinking about writing a fic about House/Wilson...Still don't know if it's gonna be a slash story or a friendship stoy.
I got my House DVD box yesterday and even though the extras are way too short, I just loved Hugh's audition tape. I watched it over and over again...sigh....
Well that's it for now...I'll try to come here a little more often
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| Drabbles.... |
[16 Jun 2005|11:57pm] |
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The Calling : Wherever you will go |
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Here's 2 more drabbles.
This one is for you curiousbuddy. As requested one about the Red Mug.
A taste of his lips
Everyday is the same thing. We stand on guard on the counter. Waiting. Hoping. Longing. We live for this moment. I have been lucky more than once. But there had been times when someone had picked me before my GOD did. Was I glad to be washed in scalding water after that! I can't stand any other taste but his. He mostly drinks coffee. Black with sugar. Bittersweet. Just like him. Sometimes his lips barely touch the rim. But sometimes they linger, just a little longer and I can hear the sighs of my sisters. Lucky for me I'm red, so he can't see me blush. Oh my GOD! Here he comes! Wish me luck...
***********
House's blues.
Melancholy...He always plays something melancholy. His long, elegant fingers delicately caresses me, lingering on a sad note, stretching it until it falls silent. Or, if the day has been bad, his hands are hard and demanding, hammering my delicate ivories. But it seldom happens and I easily forgive him for it.You see, he is in pain. Always. And people don't understand him. Not that he wants them to. He is okay with how things are. But I like to think that I help lessen the pain. And maybe, bring him a little joy. After all, I know all his tunes.
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| Another drabble |
[14 Jun 2005|02:37am] |
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pure silence for now |
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His best friend Vic
Wilson says I'm his worst enemy. House says I'm his best friend. He's still debating who's first, Wilson or me. I'm always there to alleviate, when the pain is sharp or to just give a buzz on a boring day. I appeared when Stacy left. I won't leave. He tried to live without me. Actually, they tricked him into it. A full week The fool! Can't they just leave us alone? We understand each other. He needs relief and I am relief. Two peas in a pod. The ID on my bottle says Vicodin. Between friends, just call me Vic.
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| A mile in his shoes (drabble) |
[14 Jun 2005|02:15am] |
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Still DNR on the DVD player |
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A Mile in his Shoes.
I was made for greatness. Maybe, fit Agassi or Lewis. But no. I'm stuck with a medical genius named House. He paces and paces and paces some more. Sometimes he lift me up on his desk, to rest. His great mind working to put together a puzzle that seems to have no coherence. He pace a little more and suddenly, despite the limp, rushes to wherever he needs to be. I always take him, no questions ask. To save another life or to just hide from Cuddy. They say you have to walk a mile in a man's shoes to judge him . Not many could walk in his. I guess there could be worst fate than mine.
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| A drabble |
[14 Jun 2005|01:32am] |
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no music but DNR is on the dvd player |
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I've been busy with work and didn't have much time to write in this journal. But I've decided to write some drabble.
Here's the first one.
For those who don't know a drabble is a story of 100 words.
Title: The weight of the world
Sometimes his hand caresses me like an attentive lover. And sometimes he twirls me around so I don't know up from down. Sometimes he leans on me, heavy, like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. He might curse me at times, but he always needs me. I am a part of him now. Forever. I am always by his side. Never far, always close to his hand. I have heard he has his eyes on a new one. All shiny, with a golden neck. I am not worried. He will always come back to his first love.
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| My first House fanfic... |
[21 May 2005|08:18pm] |
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REM Everybody hurts |
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Okay...I've decided to try myself at writing House fanfic...
SOMEDAY SOON.
All eyes were on him. In his hands were Stacy’s husband’s latest test results. House took his sweet time to disclose the said results. After a while, Chase couldn’t wait any longer and dared ask.
“Well?”
Face blank, voice even, Gregory House turned to face the woman he once loved more than life itself. “He’ll live. You’ll be able to take him home in a few days.”
Without further words, he turned to leave the room and didn’t even stop when Stacy called his name.
“Greg...”
“I did my job. Nothing more.”
At this stage, after an emotionally and physically exhausting week, what House needed was the relative calm and quiet of his office. His limp was more pronounced than usual, and people down the hall were throwing furtive glances his way, but the scowl on his face prevented anyone to linger their gaze for more than a few seconds.
Once in the safety of his office, he reached for the familiar bottle of pills. He popped 3 of them in his mouth and dry swallowed. Pity he didn’t have any hard liquor in his office. What he needed was to get smashed and forget everything and everyone.
He carefully slumped in his chair. Choosing a jazzy tune on his i-pod, he leaned back his head and closed his eyes. But even the soothing music couldn’t stop the frantic pacing of his mind. It was a blessing when he had a case, but a curse when he was trying to relax.
House thought about the whole case. He had won at the end. But there’d been a moment where he was certain that they wouldn’t find the cause of Stacy’s husband’s illness. Ah! Can’t even say his name, House thought. But in the end, the brainstorming session had paid off and an innocent suggestion from Cameron had lead House to the right diagnosis. Mission accomplished. The man would live, House’s team had beaten the odds once more.
Problem was, House wasn’t sure if he was happy about it. The man would live and Stacy would return to her perfect little life, with her perfect little husband. Except they wouldn’t go away. Stacey would be in his face day in and day out. Dammit! Why did Cuddy offer her a job? She knew how he felt about his ex girlfriend. Okay maybe she didn’t know because Greg never really spoke about the last five years of his life. But she should have known. And the PPTH administrator should have at least had the decency of asking if he would mind having the woman who screwed up his live working close to him.
His thoughts were interrupted by the voice of one of his duckling. Chase was standing in front of him, not too sure what House’s reaction would be. House wasn’t in a mood to be disturbed and the look in the young man’s eyes told him that he was waiting for some kind of outburst. The crippled doctor didn’t disappoint.
“Get out!”
The young doctor hesitated and House threw his cane at him. “What part of get out don’t you understand? GET OUT!” Chase left in a hurry, before anything else was thrown at him. He closed the glass door and retreated to the conference room. Let somebody else deal with the ogre. Foreman, Wilson and Cameron were already there, relaxing after the exhausted week they’ve had. House had been relentless and more harsh than usual. They kind of understood that the circumstances were difficult, but they really were on the verge or killing the genius doctor.
“So how did it go?” Wilson enquired, already knowing the answer.
The blond doctor just shrugged. “He threw his cane at me and told me to get out.”
Foreman stood up and slowly walked to the door. “Maybe I should try”
Cameron poured herself a cup of coffee. “Leave him alone. He needs to sort the whole thing out.”
All eyes turned to the gorgeous brunette. Chase was the one to speak first. “What’s to sort out? We found the cause, we ordered treatment, the man will be fine.”
Dr Cameron shook her head. They could be so blind when it came to House. Except for Wilson of course.
“You think finding the cure is the end? This case was personal to House. He still needs closure with the whole thing. Just cut him some slack for a while. He’ll be his whole charming self soon enough.”
They all chuckled. Once again Dr James Wilson was amazed at how good Cameron was at understanding House. If his friend could only let go of the past and move on, Cameron could be his happiness.
The mood was not joyous in the conference room so Chase decided to help with that. He took the newspaper and opened it to the crosswords page. “Okay people, a five letter word...”
******************************
In his office House stopped the music and sighed. The mood was ruined anyway. The only thing to do was going home to a good scotch, a cigar and his piano. He painfully stood up and limped to pick up his cane. He grabbed his coat and his bag and left his office. On his way to the elevator he passed in front of the conference room where his ducklings and Wilson seemed to have fun. Cameron was at the sink so her back was facing the door. He didn’t really stop but took the time to linger his gaze.
The week had been horrible. Even Wilson had annoyed House to no end. Cameron had been the only one being supportive in silence. She seemed to be there when he needed her to be. She had brought him coffee and Reuben sandwiches without him asking. He probably wouldn’t have think to stop to eat anyway. So he had rewarded her with a nod and a tiny little smile from time to time. She never tried to get more. Or to have him talk about the whole Stacey issue. He had been grateful about her discreet attitude during the whole thing.
He stopped by Cuddy’s office. He needed to talk to her and he knew that she wouldn’t like what he had to say.
She was on the phone but waved her hand to tell him to come in. He would have anyway. It took only a moment and then she hung up. She took a few seconds to examine House.
He looked tired and older. She knew the case had been hard on him, but he had delivered as always.
“How are...” Before she could finish, House interrupted her. “Don’t. I’m taking the next three days off. And I’m off clinic duty for a week.”
It wasn’t a request, it was a fact. Cuddy bit her lip and stayed silent. Three days off...He certainly needed them. As for the clinic...”Two weeks off clinic duty.”
She almost laugh at his dumbfounded expression. It was not that often that she took him by surprise but it was worth it.
House tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Damn! If I knew that it would be that easy, I would have asked for a month off!” She just shook her head. “And you would have had nothing.”
He turned to leave and walk away when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
House stayed silent for a moment. There was a world of apology in that ‘I’m sorry’. For the botched diagnosis, for the result of the operation, for Stacey and for all the crap that had happened between himself and Cuddy.
He turned to face her. He could tell that she was waiting for the worst. He just replied softly “I know. I see it in your eyes every time I look at you.”
He was way too tired to rant about Stacey working at PPTH or any other stuff that made his life miserable. He wanted to go home. So he walked away and Cuddy didn’t stop him this time.
The trip to his home was uneventful and as soon as he reached the door, he started to relax. He put his coat and bag in the closet and reached for the mini bar where a bottle of Chivas Regal awaited. He poured himself a good dose of the liquor and lighted a fine Cuban cigar. Then he sat at the piano and left his hands drift on the ivory keys. He started to play something melancholy. From time to time he would miss a note, but it was because he was not paying attention.
He couldn’t help thinking about Stacey. Once his happiness, then his damnation. He had thought that it was all behind him. That Stacey was in his past. And then she was there, invading his space. He had told her that he’d missed her...But did he really? Was it her that he’d missed or the memory of what he was before the infarction? This week had taught him one thing though. He was not in love with her anymore. He had some residual feelings for her. But he didn’t really know what they were. They’d been friends before they were lovers. Maybe that’s what he missed.
And then there was Cameron. She had been a calming presence. Even after the date from hell as he dubbed it, she had been nice to him, like she had always been. He couldn’t fathom the concept. But again she was nice to everyone.
He was interrupted in his musing by a soft knock on the door. House looked at his watch and found out that he had been playing for the last two hours. It was now nine o’clock. He sighed, trying to decide if he would answer the door or not. No doubt it was Wilson, coming to see if he had not O.D. on Vicodin and booze.
He slowly limped to the door, hoping that if he took long enough to get there, James would just go away. He didn’t even check to see who it was. When he opened the door, Cameron was standing on the threshold holding a big brown paper bag.
She smiled. ‘I brought Chinese.”
She waited for him to invite her in and it took House a few seconds to understand that she wouldn’t come in if he didn’t ask her. He opened the door wider and motioned her to come in.
“Thank you.”
He closed the door and limped to the couch.”I’m warning you, I’m not good company.”
Cameron put her bag on the coffee table and took off her coat. “Good. I’m not looking for good company. Just company. And good food.”
She plopped on the couch, next to him and opened the bag. She had bought what she knew he liked and even a couple of imported beers.
House watched her, trying to think of what she expected from this little impromptu dinner. If she was there to make him talk, ‘open up’, she was up for a big disappointment.
“You want to eat out of the cartons or do you want plates?” She asked softly. He just shrugged. “Cartons’ fine.”
They settled and started to eat. After a while, the silence was deafening so Cameron looked at House under her lashes.
“I’ve missed this week’s General Hospital...”
This time House made a funny face and smiled. “Thank God for Tivo. I have the whole week taped.” He grabbed the remote and started the show. Cameron leaned back on the couch and smiled contently. “Thanks to you, I’m addicted now.”
House raised his eyebrows.”Ah but what a sweet addiction!”
The brunette turned her head to face her boss. She had a serious expression on her face. “I’ve seen worse.”
AH! thought House, here we are. She’s gonna lecture me about how my addiction to painkillers is slowly killing me and how much it controls me. So he readied himself for a sarcastic retort but she surprised him again. “And I ve seen better.”
Something in her eyes told House that she was talking about him and it melted a little of the ice that surrounded his heart. But he couldn’t let her gets her hope high. He opened his mouth but she silenced him with her fingers. “Don’t.”
He smirked.”That’s usually my line. I have copy rights you know.”
She just smiled and it lit up her whole face. House sigh inwardly. He called her damaged, but he really was the one that needed mending.
“House?”
He startled at the sound of her voice and realized that he had zoned out for a moment. ‘What?”
Cameron bit her lip not to laugh. He tried to look nonchalant but he looked more like a kid that got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. She sobered up a bit. “I said I’m not asking for anything. Whatever we have now is okay. Good company and good food. And Tivo.”
She returned her gaze to the television while he continued to look at her. She really was something else. Maybe someday...Maybe they could...
He shifted on the couch and turned his attention to what was on the screen. But all he saw was Cameron, all the things that were so definitely good about her. He could see the pros and the cons of a relationship between them. All the good she would bring him. And all the bad he could only offer. But wasn’t it the essence of life to take a chance? After a while, he moved his hand a little closer so his fingers rested on Cameron’s hand.
“Not tonight. But someday...soon. Ask again. Maybe I’ll be able to give.”
Cameron didn’t say a word. Didn’t turn back to look at him. She only intertwined her fingers with his and smiled. She would ask. Not tonight. But someday soon.
The End
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| Musing... |
[13 May 2005|11:35pm] |
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Well it's friday, so I'll be able to relax. I had to leave work before the end of my shift because I have a sinus cold and a quartet of drums were playing in my head. Hard to focus on stuff...
I was suppose to join the girls from work for a little gathering, but I'm not sure if I'll go. It'll depend how I feel. Also, I should call Lorraine, it's been a week since we've talked and lets say that she's kind of desperate to talk about E! and Johnny. I'll send her an e-mail to tell her to call me tomorrow...
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| The end is near... |
[04 May 2005|10:55pm] |
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James Marsters latest cd |
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Only 3 more episodes of HOUSE! That's very sad. Fortunately, Fox had renewed it for a second season. One of their rare brilliant moves. Thank god for downloads! People on the House Fandom are very nice and helpful.
It's mid-week and the weekend won't come soon enough! It's crazy at work and we don't really have the time to catch our breath!
Still strange to write into this journal since I've never kept a journal before.
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