She dangled her legs out of the second story window and sighed. She loved this time of morning; it was so calm, so peaceful, almost like a snapshot in time. Everything seemed to just stand still, except for the rabbits running down the street of course. Clutching her freshly brewed coffee, she followed the movements of one particular rabbit, watching it's hind legs propel it towards the front of the small pack. She itched to run, to feel the cool wind through her hair, to hear her feet fall in a steady beat along the pavement, with no other sound but the occasional cry of a bird come out from the trees.
She sipped her coffee, as she shifted her view to the sky, dawn had just broken and she was wondering why she was awake, three hours sleep was not a sufficient amount for a woman her age, or in her position. It was almost as though the word vacation meant nothing to her, she was constantly thinking about the hospital, about House, Wilson, the "Ducklings" as she had taken to calling them collectively (although she'd never say that out loud). Why she had chosen to stay in Scotland was beyond her, it's not like it was particularly vacation-y. She pondered for a moment, something about stillness, she thought as her eyes travelled along the tops of the trees and houses.
Domesticity was something that she had always longed for, she had maternal instincts and a child, she had a house back in the States and she could take care of herself and Rachel, but there was something missing, it was that finishing touch that made the piece, or those two teaspoons of coconut extract in the cupcakes. She knew what it was, but refused to admit it. Her two teaspoons of coconut extract was a man. The missing piece was that gruff voice that should be asking what she was doing up at this time, asking her to come back to bed. It was the "light" footsteps that would head out to the kitchen to get an extra scoop of ice cream in the middle of the night. It was the hand that would smooth down her pyjamas in the middle of the night, and rest itself on her thigh. It was the soft chuckle that she would counter with a smirk, no matter the situation. It was the arms that would not only encase her, but her daughter as well, the hands that would help her stand, the words to teach her to speak. She knew what she wanted, she just didn't know how to get it.
And so she stared out the window of the rented house, moments later her thoughts were interrupted by a crying Rachel. She swung her legs back inside, set her coffee on the windowsill and shut the windows. Padding her way back to her and her daughter's room she smiled. Yeah, it's not exactly perfect, but it works.
A/N: Inspired by a conversation that I had…a very long time ago with one of my best friends. :)
