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Redemption
by Jackyblu
I had pushed too hard this time. I always pushed. It's my way. But, when the fall came, I was actually as alarmed and surprised as its victim. I thought he was stronger. God, I didn't mean for this to happen! But it did. It was ugly, and pain filled. He lays on the couch his bandaged fingers resting on his stomach, his chest rising and falling hard. He looks exhausted, watching me through red-rimmed eyes as I cross the room and set my coat upon the piano bench. He needn't ever know. But I can't keep this from him. I sit beside him and share my terrible truth.
Why? I trusted you. Why is the devil is always someone you trust!
I am trying to help you. You are in danger. I love you!
How could you watch this happen to me? How could you be a part of it?
I thought you were stronger.
You know me better than anyone alive. How could you think I was strong enough to face this hell? You said you loved me. Do you have any idea what this feels like?
No, but I know what watching you slowly die would feel like.
You don't have to watch! You don't have to be here at all!
I love you!
Then love, by your definition, is what ever is best for you!
That's your definition of friendship. Don't get them confused.
Christ, it hurts!
Love always does. I am not leaving you.
Then help me. Please. It hurts so much.
Will you let me in? Can you trust enough to drop your defenses?
Oh God, I'm afraid.
I know.
You won't leave me? I need you. Please.
His eyes are asking the questions he is too frightened to speak. I won't leave him as others had. I caused this pain because I love him. I hold him while he trembles in my arms, hot tears awash on my neck. Is this always the way he sees love? Is it always pain, fear and abandonment? Does he have anything else to compare it to? He clings to me. God, I love him.
I hold him, afraid to let go. If I let go I will be swallowed up in darkness so complete not a pinprick of light will get through. There will be nothing to guide my way back. He loves me. This is what love feels like. I recognize the pain, and disillusionment. Soon he will walk away and leave me like this and I will slowly die, because I love him too.
I keep him close. It is my unspoken promise that I will not abandon him. But I am still the cause of his pain, and it hurts me deeply.
God, I can't think. I can't protect myself. My body is in pain; my heart in agony, and my soul, if I have one, has fled in terror.
I am not as strong as I thought. My heart is like spun glass. It shatters and the shards fill my stomach. I hold him and run my hand through his hair trying to sooth away the quaking of his body. This makes up for nothing! I can't be both his angel and his devil. No! I am not his tormentor! The damn addiction is!
He wants to show me to myself, like I can't see what I've become. I have my own mirror God damn it! I don't need you for this! I don't need you to hand me my miserable life on a platter. I need you to care about me. God please! Just once in my life, let someone care about me.
His body is shaking with crushing sobs. I can't do this to him. I love him, and want him with me as long as life allows, but not this way. The fire, passion, humor, and intelligence, of the man in my arms is turning to dust in my hands. I must stop this! I don't know if I do this for him or for my worthless self, because love is what ever is best for me.
He hasn't left me. He holds me through my pain. Pain he caused! No. I caused this pain. Me and my addiction. It is more than I can take. If I surrender, if I tell him he is right, will it stop? If I surrender I will have dropped my last defense leaving me bare and vulnerable. Would he take pity on me?
I can't take any more. My love for him over rules anything else. I know I am feeding his demon, but it is his demon. It is part of who he is. It is a symbiotic relationship. One cannot survive without the other. That means I have to love them both. I release him, rise and walk away. My coat is on the piano bench.
He is leaving me. This is love, as I know it. No one stays. Not Stacy. Not my parents. Not Wilson. I thought that maybe James would stay. He picks up his coat from the piano bench. When he leaves, I will end this. He won't call in the morning. It will be easy.
I find what I need in my coat pocket and walk back to him. He looks at me with his eyes set hard. He has replaced what is left of his armor. He is steeling himself for the final assault. Our final battle, no quarter given and none asked. I am not an Archangel and I am laying down my sword to him. The battle is his. Greg, give me your arm. His eyes soften and he looks vulnerable again. This was a change in tactics he did not expect. He is wary of a ruse. I place a tourniquet around his upper arm, and draw the necessary dosage into the syringe. Our eyes meet as I inject the morphine into the vein. I remove the tourniquet, and he rubs and flexes his arm.
Why?
Because I love you. I reach my hand toward him. It is the moment of truth between us. He will either ignore me and toss me from his life, or take my hand and allow me to remain. It is my turn to be afraid, and lay bare.
He wants me to forgive him. He didn't leave and he is stopping the pain in my body. I don't know if he will ever cure the pain in my heart. I have lost a lot today. We have lost a lot today. Something between us has died and I want to be alone with my grief.
He won't take my hand. I can feel a door closing between us. God! Why did I put him through this? What did I want from him? He gives everything he can, but I was selfish and demanded more. Now the one most important thing in my life is ending. No! I am not giving up and walking away! I love him!
He keeps his hand out. I don't want to take it. What other betrayal have you planned James? Are you about to tell me that you've met someone new and need to go meet them for drinks? That you have accepted a position in a different hospital across the country? What the hell do you want from me? Haven't I bled enough for you tonight?
The pain leaking from his eyes is killing me. I need to prove myself to him all over again. I have trashed everything we had until this point. I reach out and seize his hand. He doesn't pull away. Does he see me as a saint or Satan? Maybe he is too soul weary to care.
Where?
Your room.
Why?
Because I love you.
I love you too. I always have. James, please don't hurt me again. I can't...please!
I won't Greg. I swear it on our lives. Please don't damn me to the hell reserved for do-gooders and fools, a hell where I can never be with you. We rise from the couch and I help him to the bedroom. He turns and I hold his eyes with mine. Forgive me Greg. His eyes warm and deepen again to the purest blue I know. We lay upon the bed. He lets me touch him in those places he shares with no one else. I brush his lips with mine. He pushes the hair from my eyes. We pull each other close and the night is ours. I am slowly ministering to his body and soul. He is not ready to reciprocate. His need is greater now. I will fill myself by loving him. It is there that I will find my redemption and I pray lead him to his.
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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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