FRIDAY NIGHT FIGHTS
AN: This is my first House attempt because I write for Bones, timesucker that those stories tend to be. I'm not sure how to classify this genre of writing... basically I've taken the lyrics to the Maroon 5 song "Better that we break" and made it the crux of the dialogue for this oneshot. So, technically a songfic? I don't know. Disclaimers and such are generally legally and technically useless but, no, I don't own Maroon 5's music or House. Lyrics are in italics.
Chapter 1: Better That We Break
Lisa Cuddy sighed, peering out the window and down on a solitary figure. She picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number, one she'd used with more frequency after the unfortunate events of Dr. Gregory House's infarction.
"Stacy? Found him... yeah... back on the roof... sure, use the fifth story access across from the janitor's closet... You're welcome." Lisa replaced phone and watched. It was nearly dark, the setting sun providing little illumination behind the thickening clouds to the west. It was going to be a long, wet Friday night which meant a big night for the ER. She waited until the door swong open and she saw the angry form of the constitutional lawyer, the same woman who had made her cripple the brilliant diagnostician, storm up to her boyfriend.
Cuddy suppressed another sigh and began to mentally run through the list of possible cases for House. He was back on duty starting Monday and it might take all weekend to get a case that his two remaining fellows couldn't solve without his brilliance and would occupy him long enough for her to find yet another case. One last glance out the window told her she better find that case quickly, as the couples' latest fight was turning as ugly as the sky.
Stacy was beginning to pace on the rooftop, stopping at time to rest with her arms on the waist high guard that kept idiots from falling off the roof, if the restricted access signs had not done their jobs. These arguments drained all her energy, leaving her beaten and tired the next day. But he, he was being impossible!
'Not for the first time', the little voice in the back of her mind whispered 'why are you still here?' and, not for the second time, another voice answered, 'because I love so much about him...' When she spoke again, her back turned from the sight of her lover languishing in his wheelchair nearly three months after his infarction, she reminsced about the Greg she used to know.
"I never knew perfection 'til I heard you speak, and now it kills me just to hear you say the simple things." She smiled at the recollection of hearing his annoyed voice after she shot him in the ass during that famed doctors versus lawyers paintball game. Now all she heard was him tipping the vicodin bottle, scoffing at her offer of water, listening to him gripe about the pain and the betrayal. 'Never trust a lawyer' he repeated now, a dozen times a day.
House watched her watching the sunset. How, he asked himself, could she be angry at him? Doesn't she realize things will never be the same? He used to play lacrosse, soccer, the occasional tennis game with Wilson. House remembered his frequent late night runs, the only thing that gave his mind a break from the diagnostic puzzles he faced. He used to wake up refreshed, ready to take on the next puzzle, spend time with his girlfriend, best friend or needlessly torture his boss. Now, without the redemption of true rest, he never really wanted to wake.
"Now waking up is hard to do and sleeping is impossible too." He started before she cut him off.
"Everything is reminding me of you..." Stacy trailed off, remembering their argument this morning when she moved his running shoes. "What can I do?" She asked, her voice hitching a little as she wondered aloud how to make this relationship work again. House wondered if she'd even heard him speak in the better part of three months.
"It's not right, not ok. You say the words that you say. You told Cuddy to cut up my body with no regard for my, very clearly stated, wishes! Maybe we're better off this way?" He repeated her oft stated mantra with a snear. "I'm not fine, I'm in pain. It's harder everyday. Maybe we're better off this way: It's better that we break..." Stacy turned now to face him, her face twisted in disbelief.
"I'd be a fool to let you slip away. I chase you just to hear you say you're scared and that you think that I'm insane." House snickered, he wouldn't give her the pleasure.
"The city looks so nice from here pity I can't see it clearly. While you're standing there, it disappears, it disappears behind the cloud of your betrayal!" His melodramatic streak was back with a vengence.
"What can I do about that now? How do I make that right, Greg?" Her questions were clearly rhetorical but House returned swiftly as he twisted the wheels of his chair manuevuring in front of her.
"Didn't you hear? It's not right, not ok. You say the words that you say, 'Maybe we're better off this way?' But I'm not fine, I'm in pain, it's harder everyday." He stopped, watching her for signs of understanding and finding none. Didn't she realize he was being honest for once? "Maybe we're better off this way, it's better that we break up-" Stacy shook her head, God only knows how long he'd been sitting outdoors, he was probably disoriented. She jumped in,
"Saw you sitting all alone. You're fragile and you're cold, but that's all right. Life these days is getting rough, they've knocked you down and beat you up. But it's just a rollercoaster anyway, yeah."
House rolled his eyes. Wouldn't she let him finish? The last thing he needed was empty platitudes. Oh, the ups and downs of life, isn't it a bitch? Nope, in his experience there was just one bitch to be seen.
"Dammit Stacy, listen! It's not right, not okay. You say the words that you say..."
"Maybe we're better off this way!" She insisted, "you're alive, you're still here with me, you'll be fine. Lisa says there will be discomfort but you'll live!"
"I'm not fine, I'm in pain. In case you didn't hear me the first two times: It's harder everyday! Maybe we're better off this way because I'm not fine, not okay. Let me say the words that you say, maybe we're better off this way." He didn't say the words and he didn't need to. It was over. That message finally got through loud and clear and Stacy had no rebuttal left to give.
She nodded once and stooped down, kissing his rough cheek. Silently, she returned to the relative warmth of the hospital and, after awhile, out to her car. House remained on the roof in the damned wheelchair. She'll be out of the townhouse by tomorrow, he imagined, wondering if Mrs. Wilson #2 would let Jimmy have a sleepover tonight...
HHHHHHH
When House made it back into the hospital he groaned audibly at the site of one Lisa Cuddy awaiting his return. He could tell immediately Stacy had gone crying into her arms not moments before. He waited for the barrage of questions with a raised brow. Cuddy faltered when she saw him, still in that damned chair, looking like the sky had fallen.
"How are you?" She managed, without sounding too patronizing.
"I'm not fine, I'm in pain. It's harder everyday to get ahold of that physician who's in charge of my pain management... who was it now... Dr. Cuddles? CuddyWuddlyBear? Cudd..."
"House... you just broke up with your girlfriend of over five years... maybe..." House interrupted her sympathy once again.
"We're better off this way." He answered, in a way that made her think they were no longer talking about Stacy. "It's better that we break." His gaze fell to the folder in her left hand, tapping an uneven rhythm against her black pencil skirt.
"You have a case," she announced handing over the folder, "if," she held on even as he tried to rip it from her grasp, "you get off your ass." Her right hand came around extending a cane and blue met blue as his will battled against hers. Finally, House took the end of the cane, heaving himself upright until he towered over her again.
"Hello, girls, I've missed you..." he simpered, staring directly at her chest. Cuddy fought a laugh as she released the folder and kicked the wheelchair out of his reach. House was back.
As they began the trek to the elevators House perused the file, convinced he could solve it by the time they got to the patient's room.
"Baby?" he inquired as Cuddy pushed the elevator down button for pediatrics.
"Two month old. Born healthy but at the last check-up low sodium..."
END Chapter
AN: Thanks for reading, there will be a second chapter and I love feedback. Also, if there are any readers who are following FTOW, the final two chapters should be up by tomorrow.