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A Five Letter Word For Agony
by Enko-chan
She's breaking the rules. Now, ordinarily, rules barely even seem relevant to you, but this is the one area where you'd finally like someone to play fair, and playing fair definitely does not involve sitting somewhere in the same hospital next to a husband you were practically forced into saving. And now that he's saved, you're...waiting for the other shoe to drop.
There's a part of your mind that won't stop thinking until you've figured everything out, and right now it's busy giving the rules numbers and subsections, and appointing an annoying magistrate who decides when they've been broken and looks a lot like Cuddy in the lowest cut judges' robes you've ever seen, even though Cuddy know nothing about these sorts of rules. No non-lethal amount of Vicodin could ever shut up that part of your brain, so when Chase looks up from his crossword puzzle and says, "Five letter word for intense pain," her name almost slips out and the magistrate starts flipping through the rulebook, then all of a sudden Chase's lawyer is in your head talking loudly, and you almost fail to connect the coffee you're pouring with your coffee cup.
Almost.
Instead, potent bottom-of-the-pot coffee gruel meets the bottom of your red mug and you say, offhand, "Agony," and probably take a swing at his intellect. Hopefully it was a good one, the sort that make Chase roll his eyes, over-dramatic as usual, and Foreman raise his eyebrows and glance bemusedly at Cameron, who will just shake her head. You would stay and check if you hit the mark, but that might give Chase time to formulate a comeback, and then you'd have to come up with another good barb, and besides, duty calls.
You pretend not to notice the look Cameron gives as you swing open the door of the conference room and begin to limp down the hallway. There's something hidden, poorly, behind her eyes that makes you think you should perhaps capitalize that 'l', make it a Look, then write a book on exactly how a 'look' is different from a 'Look' to fill in the space in your library between "How to Cleverly Conceal All Evidence of Having a Personal Life" and "101 Things To Do on a Lonely Day". By Dr. Gregory House. Co-written by Dr. James Wilson and a few beers, and their friends Vicodin and scotch.
---
An hour, two hours later (it's difficult to say), and you've exhausted your "duty calls" excuse, your leg is aching, and you've ended up in the very place you were trying to avoid. She's right there, behind that pane of glass, curled up on the bed with hubby, the picture of matrimonial bliss. Watching him run his hand along the curve of her body (obviously not paralysed anymore, you note sourly), you've just got to know. Does he treat her right? Does she still wear that same perfume? Does she still think of you?
Does she still love you?
You've wondered that for five years, once the feeling you got when you thought about her faded from full-out hatred to just pain. Agony.
"Dr. House?" You turn, and for the briefest of seconds, that pain is visible in your eyes. Blink, and it's gone. You don't think Cameron notices, because the Look is back and you know she's trying to be brave about something. Whatever she has to say, you won't like, but you never do, and besides, you've just realized what the Look is.
She asks a question about hubby and you give a noncommittal response, turning back towards the room, shifting your weight against the pillar. She doesn't go away. You turn back around to look at her again, and she's taking a deep breath. Fleetingly, you wonder if this is the other shoe.
"I thought...that you were too screwed up to love anyone." That statement surprises you, but you're already studying her face so it doesn't show. She goes on, but you're already pretty sure what she's going to say, because the raw, unobscured hurt has said it all for her. It's written all over her face, just agonyagonyagony.
"I'm happy for you," she finishes, and walks away, looking broken. Face still blank, you turn around again.
---
A few hours, a few Vicodin, and a few glasses of scotch later, you're sitting at home on the piano bench, still shaking from that one fatal step, from your bad leg to your knees. This is the sort of pain you can deal with, and once the Vicodin you just caught in your mouth sorts out your leg and starts humming through your system, you'll starting thinking about the dagger she just shoved into your heart. About how with that soft kiss on the cheek, the scent of her hair, her perfume, she gave it one last twist and walked away, leaving it sticking out of your ribcage. About how it hurts so bad, it's almost physical. But not physical enough for the pills.
Another Vicodin and you'll think about Cameron. About how it may have been a childish crush, but it was strong enough that she did something about it, and you pushed her away so hard that she ended up standing there in front of you, brave-faced and hurting, telling you that she was happy you could love anyone at all. She knew it would happen, you'll say, half-heartedly, but you might even feel guilty about it.
Even sitting there, numb from head to toe, it'll feel weird to know that Cameron, with her kind words and tireless optimism, has just made you admit how fucked up you are. You'll never be able to say, "I'm happy you love someone, even if it's not me," and move on. No, you'll just sit there alienating people, popping pills, and drinking scotch until the end of the world, all because you can't admit that you've lost her.
If your life was a crossword, she'd be number one, down. A five letter word for agony.
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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 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.
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