Stacy cried at night. She thought Mark was asleep, but he listened, not looking, praying she would figure out what she wanted or needed to be happy. They fought. Too much. He wouldn't let anything drop and now she cried every night when she thought he was asleep.
Her mind would drift to Greg House, who was probably happy with Allison somewhere in Pricenton. The thought made her sick much of the time, and now she was working on numb. Stacy drank a beer upon occasion when she was happy. Now it wasn't a lot more, but enough for her lightweight body to feel the buzz. She wanted something she couldn't have.
"Maybe oneday," Mark said, bringing silence from his wife. "Maybe you'll let me hold you when you cry? Maybe," he took a breath. "You'll tell me why you cry every night." Stacy was completely still. "Honey, please tell me?"
"I can't. I don't-"
"You know why you've spent the last 6 months crying. You love him. You want to be with him more than anything, and you stay out of loyalty to me. Its a good quality you have, but I can't watch you die like this." Mark felt his heart break as he spoke. "I can't be him. I can't even try to compare to Greg."
"Mark," she whimpered. "I'm sorry."
"I know. I am, too." Stacy put her arms around her husband for one last hug. "I'll be back," he said, kissing her head.
Blame Fox, They own.
Blame Fox, They own.
Blame Fox, They own.
Blame Fox, They own.
"What do you want," a bitter voice called from within the apartment. When Greg House opened the door, Mark was there. He was still in pajamas, and for once, didn't look angry. "Did I stutter, or would you like me to repeat the question?"
"She loves you," was the simple reply.
"You drove over 2 hours to tell me this?"
"She's probably asleep now, but she's cried herself to sleep every night for 6 goddamn months because she doesn't want to be with me, but is too loyal and kind to leave." House frowned. He'd been on the recieving end of that kindess once upon a time. "You know exactly what I am talking about, and you know I can't let her hurt like that."
"I know."
"So what are you going to do?"
"Have an affair?" House offered, sarcastically. Mark finally entered his home. He plopped down on the couch. "Won't you come in?"
"She thinks its too late."
"It is."
"You're with someone?"
"Nope. She is."
"She was going to leave me anyway. At least this way I left her, so she could be happy." House stared at him. "I'll be moving out tomorrow, I have a hotel room near by. Go to her." House needed little promting to see her.
Blame Fox, They own.
Blame Fox, They own.
Blame Fox, They own.
Blame Fox, They own.
Stacy heard the car pull up. It didn't sound like Marks, but it was nearly 6:00 in the morning. 'Oh God," she thought, praying it wasn't the police to say he was hurt or dead. Her heart stopped racing when she heard the familiar knock of a cane on her door. She padded her way to the front.
"House," she said.
"Mark is asleep on my couch, or at his hotel. He told me you needed to see me."
"He lied."
"Everybody lies." She ushered him in. "Stacy, he is leaving you. He told me today." Stacy looked down, heartbroken. House pulled her close.
"Why?" she sobbed. He stroked her hair lovingly.
"Because he didn't want to stand in the way of your happiness...your life with me."
"We don't have a life, Greg."
"We did, and we can again." She looked up at him. "I'm not promising that I won't be a sarcastic bastard, and that I won't drop everything and go to work, or drop everything and leave work."
"You're saying you want us to be how we were?"
"No. How we were was happy, and then I got sick. I want us to be happy, without the whole near-death thing. It cramps my style." She laughed through her tears.
"If you screw this up again-"
"I wouldn't do that to you. Not again," he said, pulling her lips to his. "Please, come home." There was a long stretch of silence while she stared into his perfect blue eyes.
"All right," she whispered. "Let's go home, Greg."
Blame Fox, They own.
Blame Fox, They own.
Blame Fox, They own.
Blame Fox, They own.
A/N: Happy Fourth.
