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It's A Wonderful Magi Carol
by gena
It's A Wonderful Magi Carol
Gregory House was dead to begin with. That must be understood before -
"Hey! What's this Gregory House was dead crap?" House demanded. "I'm sitting right here."
"Uh, well, this is a Christmas story," the ghostly presence said hesitantly, "and they follow a kind of -"
"-formula. Yeah, yeah, been there, done that," House growled. "Just who the hell are you?"
The nearly transparent figured scuffed a toe on the carpet and said, "I'm the Ghost of House Fandom Christmas."
House stared at the - person. "Ghost of House Fandom Christmas, huh? Is that some kind of weird interweb stalker community? You make up little stories about how sexy and wounded I am? Losers."
"No! I'm a Spiritual Guide. I've been sent to show you what Christmas would be like if you had chosen a different path!"
House stared at the Ghost, skepticism written deeply in his expression. "Just what kind of a path do you mean?"
The Ghost grinned. "Touch my robe and you'll see."
"You're wearing a t-shirt," House pointed out.
"Figure of speech."
The Ghost reached out and snatched House's hand before he could protest and the Diagnostic Medicine office at PPTH disappeared. Snow swirled on the wind, playing hide and seek among thick pine trees and stylish homes. The sound of voices raised in song could be heard in the distance and as House and the Ghost stood in the picturesque street bells began to ring. The whole thing looked like one of those tiny Christmas village someone's aunt might collect and House felt a wave a nausea sweep over him. He turned to hurl into the bushes but the Ghost tugged him towards a sickening sweet home covered in lights and tinsel and sporting not only a inflatable Santa but a huge blow-up Menorah as well.
"If you think this Scrooge McCane is gonna save Tiny Tim;s crippled ass," House snapped, "You've seen too many Hallmark specials."
"No, this isn't A Christmas Carol," the Ghost explained, "this is more It's a Wonderful Life meets The Grinch with a pinch of the Hobo's Christmas."
"The one with Gerald McRaney?"
"Yeah, the part where he -"
"Shut up and get this over." House limped up to the window and pressed his nose to the glass. "What the hell am I suppose to see?"
"This is the life you could have had," the Ghost explained, "If you had fathered Cuddy's baby." House turned with a look of frozen horror on his face. "Hey, don't blame me. I just show you what could have been." House shook his head and turned back to the window. Inside he saw Cuddy come into the room, her beautiful face creased with worry. On her hip she carried a squirming, screaming babe with a red face, startling blue eyes and a shock of floppy brown hair.
House shot the Ghost a quizzical look. "I'm the father?"
"Oh, yes," the Ghost replied, checking a few notes. "Says so in the story - uh, narrative written by professional type people not internet stalkers." House glared but returned his attention to the scene unfolding in front of him.
"Oh, dear," Cuddy wailed. "I have no present for my true love, Gregory House! I love him so much. He has fathered this beautiful baby for me." The beautiful baby chose that moment to throw up some vile and green concoction over the front of her powersuit. Cuddy began to cry. "Oh, Gregory James, whatever will I do? He wants a new helmet for riding his motorcycle."
"This is ridiculous," House muttered. "Cuddy isn't like that. And that kid," he looked at the Ghost again, "that thing isn't mine."
Before the Ghost could reply Cuddy left the room and House entered. He looked a little older, his steely blue eyes a little softer and when he opened his mouth, his powerful voice had taken on a whiny edge. "Oh, what am I going to do? I have no present for my beautiful wife Cuddy. She wants a new crib for that spawn we had." Tears began to form and roll down his cheeks. Outside gagging sounds could be heard but the House inside the, uh, house, didn't hear that. He continued to cry and bemoan the fact he could not get his wife the one thing she wanted.
"You okay?" The Ghost asked once the sounds of retching had diminished.
House wiped his mouth and glared at the Ghost. "This is utter crap! If you don't put an end to this I'm going to sue you for Cruel and Unusual punishment."
"Uh, okay, look!" The Ghost pointed and House looked in the window again. The Christmas Tree shimmered and glowed and House and Cuddy knelt in front of it, beaming at each other. "Cuddy," House cried, "here, I bought you the one gift you wanted more than anything in the world!"
"Oh, Beloved," Cuddy cried, "I got you what you wanted, too." They exchanged gifts, each staring lovingly at the other as they tore the paper away. Cuddy stared at the beautiful crib House had given her while House stared at the motorcycle helmet she had given him. They both began to cry, clinging to each other.
"Oh, Cuddy, I sold my motorcycle to buy you the crib!"
"Oh, House, I sold the baby to buy you the helmet!"
"You're kidding me," the real House demanded, rounding on the Ghost with cane raised.
"You're going to stand there and tell me if I had hooked up with Cuddy, I'd be living some bad Lifetime movie."
"Pretty much," the Ghost said meekly. "Let's go check out the second one." House opened his mouth to protest but the scene shifted and they were standing in the middle of a spacious apartment, Christmas light twinkling and a fire burning in a fireplace. The sound of heavy breathing and tiny groans of pleasure filled the room.
"Okay, this looks promising," House said. He limped further into the room, peering over the back of the sofa at the entwined bodies lying on a furry rug. Cameron's dark hair lay spread around her like a mahogany sea, firelight painted her flawless skin golden and she threw her head back and sighed. "Oh, yeah," House purred. His own form lay sprawled beside her, and despite the fact they had obviously just had sex, he looked bored.
"Mmmm, baby," Cameron purred, "let's do it again." She raked his chest with scarlet nails, staring at him and smiling with a sexy sweetness that could have melted plastic.
"We already did it twice."
"Oh, I'm sorry, sweetheart," Cameron said with a gasp of horror. "You must be hungry! I'll fix you some supper." She sprang to her feet, threw on some clothes and scurried from the room. "I baked a turkey, made a pie, knitted presents for your parents and bought a puppy!" She yelled from the kitchen. "Taking care of you is so much more fulfilling than being a doctor." In the front room, House rose stiffly from the floor and limped to the Christmas tree. He tugged experimentally on a strand of lights. "Oh, my parents will be coming by in a few hours," Cameron said sticking her head back into the room and smiling. "I hope to be able to tell them they'll soon be grandparents, Greg."
House moved a stool up next to the tree and climbed onto it. He reached out and grasped the lights, wrapping them securely around his neck. With a last sigh, House kicked the stool away and hung himself from the tree.
"About time," the other House said. "I was about to shoot myself."
"Well, she's all wrong for you," the Ghost said, nose wrinkled in disgust. "Shall we move on?"
Again, their surroundings faded until House found himself standing in his own apartment. The TV screen flickered, Bing, Danny, Rosemary and Vera-Ellen exalted the virtues of snow and the scent of pepperoni pizza filled the air. House grinned at the Ghost and moved closer to the two figures on the couch. He and Wilson were sitting there, feet on the coffee table, smiles on their faces. House was fiddling with what appeared to be a new yo-yo and Wilson was watching him. "I didn't get you anything," House said.
"You never do," Wilson replied.
"Maybe I will someday."
Wilson laughed.
House blinked. He and the Ghost were in his office again. "What the hell? That's all you're going to show me? What about Wilson? Do we get it on?"
The Ghost blushed. "Uh, that's up to you. I was just sent here to show you what you could have."
"Oh, like it's a difficult choice," House said. "I either pick Cuddy and live out a stupid Gift of the Magi life. Hook up with Cameron and end up as a sexy Christmas ornament or invite Wilson over and - watch TV."
"The ending is up to you," the Ghost said. "I can not influence earthly matters." That said, the Ghost reached into the pocket of her jeans and handed House a brightly wrapped present. "Merry Christmas." And the Ghost disappeared.
House stared at the spot where the weird creature had been, then ripped open the package. A tube of KY fell into his palm. "Hmm, at last, something practical." He checked the balcony and saw the lights were on in Wilson's office. With a grin, House dropped the tube into his jacket pocket and went to invite Wilson over to watch White Christmas. It was going to be a very Merry Christmas.
The Ghost smiled, and hit save.
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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 NBC/Universal, 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.
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