| |
Shattering the Resolve
by A.J. Raffles
She thinks I'm so mean.
So what if I am? I'm not an evil man; I'm a doctor. My entire life is devoted to helping people. Since when is it required of me to be nice to them as well? It shouldn't even make a difference. I don't understand why it's important that I'm nice to anyone at all...
After all, I can't be nice to her.
No matter what I say, I never get any angry reaction out of her. On a daily basis the only tones I have ever used have been biting sarcasm or condescension. The most terrible, disgusting insults I've thrown at her all bounced off like she never heard them at all. As if she's just pretending to not to hear them. How can she not get angry? How can she just stand there quietly and take it all in? And she wants to know why I'm mean to her all the time?
You stupid idiot, I'm trying to get you angry with me.
I'm not going to let her keep living like this. She can't dodge every confrontation that comes her way. No one can be that accepting and nice for as long as she has. You can't be happy yourself if you keep sacrificing your own for the sake of someone else's. That's why I keep pushing her more and more, just to get a goddamn response; she needs to learn to deal with the bad as well as the good. She can't even tell a patient's family honestly when their loved on is going to die, for fear of upsetting them; how can she ever deal with grief successfully herself?
But nothing has worked yet. I've just kept pushing and pushing, even resorting to sexist remarks, and nothing has shaken her out of her psuedo tranquil faade. And goddamnit, she has to respond soon, because... I can't keep doing this. It's harder and harder every day to force these nasty remarks out of my mouth. It's never been hard to be nasty to anyone before. Goddamnit, why does she have to be so nice?
What could I say, for example, when after viciously brushing off her attempts to wish me a Merry Christmas, she unabashedly reached out and handed me a present? How could that not make me feel like a miserable jerk for how I treat her? After all I've said and done in my attempts to provoke her, she still keeps going out of her way to try to make me happy. Why does she care whether or not I'm happy? How could she care?
I remember the day she wished me a happy birthday. Christ, I didn't even realize what she was talking about at first. Since when do people that have known me less than a year know before I do when it's my birthday?
Every day it's harder and harder to be mean to her, because every day I want less and less for her to be angry with me.
I don't want her to hate me. But I have to keep trying. What I want isn't as important as what she needs. I'm willing to sacrifice what I want.
In that respect, I guess she and I aren't as different as we seem.
Please post a comment on this story.
Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of Fox Television, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
|