Magnetized
He was a magnet; an incredible force pulling at her with a grip so strong she felt powerless to resist. She was drowning, drowning in the bluest of blue eyes, and god, he wasn't even there with her.
"For the last month, House has been crowing that you can't work with him because you're swooning in love."
"There is nothing approaching love in the way I feel about him right now."
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"You're not mad because I broke into your psychiatrist's office."
"Yeah, I was thrilled about that."
"'Kay it was a lousy thing to do, but if what I had found was all kittens and moonbeams and Markville you'd be over it."
"No I wouldn't."
"You're mad at me for letting you know what I did… because you liked how things were going. And for that I am truly sorry. It was stupid."
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"I thought you were going to get him to sell me out."
"I wouldn't do that. You're my client, too."
"Yeah. And that's not going to change unless you leave this job. Or I do. So… how do you deal with a coworker you have feelings for- positive or negative? I don't want to end up like Chase. I don't want to get emotionally involved and kill… you."
"They're not all negative. Maybe you were right, maybe… maybe that is the problem."
"So
what do we do?"
"I don't know."
And then there was the way he said her name.
"Stacy."
"My god I'm pathetic."
That's no excuse for adultery.
Stacy pushed the voice from her head. I'm divorced. And I'm not going there to sleep with him.
Yes you are.
She made a face. Not likely.
She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel of her car and glared at the one in front of her, disgusted with herself.
"What?" Stacy glanced up from the pile of folders in her lap to her husband sitting on the other end of the couch, feeling his eyes on her.
Mark regarded her thoughtfully. "You love him, don't you?"
Her heart pounded. He didn't… how did he… nothing had happened… she didn't… love?
He smiled sadly at her shocked silence. "It's always everyone else who knows first, huh?"
'Say something, defend yourself', a voice spoke urgently to her mind, but nothing would come out. She could do nothing but stare at him in stunned disbelief. "I don't…"
He closed his eyes in resignation. "Yes, you do. I can see it in your eyes."
She swallowed. "You're angry."
"Think from my perspective." His tone was dry. "Why wouldn't I be? We're married."
"I don't love Greg."
He shook his head. "You do. With a passion I've never seen in you before. That's how I know."
'That's how I know'…
"What are you thinking?" She clamped her mouth shut, amazed at the bold question that had just come from her mouth. "No. I don't-"
"Stop." The word was firm and commanding, and for the first time she could hear the anger in his voice. "You do, Stacy, and don't bother arguing with me. I know you. Not as well as he does, or claims he does, but I do. As long as you work at the hospital-"
"I'll quit."
"No you won't."
"Yes I will. I'll find another job. We can get counselling."
"Stacy." Mark reached over and took her hand in his. "You and I both know that won't help." He met her gaze.
"What-" She stopped, took a deep breath, and began again. "What are you saying? That we should…" Trailing off, she wondered if this was really happening; if he was actually suggesting they get a divorce.
"I know someone who could get it done quickly," he said, and released her hand. "We could do it as soon as possible, and it wouldn't get messy."
She sighed. "You don't even want to try?"
The corners of his mouth lifted, just a little. "Not if our hearts aren't in it."
Part of wanted to be hurt, to wallow in misery and self-pity and hide from the rest of the world forever. The other part… well, she wasn't quite sure.
22 hours flew by in what felt like the course of a blink, and it was done. She was no longer married to Mark Warner.
Right after the divorce, Mark had been called to PPTH for some check-up, and, as it had been busy at the hospital, he had ended up staying much longer than usual. She had insisted on going with him, if only for support, and it was after one in the morning when he had finally got through to her; so she headed home…
Only to end up in Greg House's driveway.
Go figure.
Stacy sat in the drivers seat for a long while, staring out into space and thinking.
Why the hell am I here?
A knock on the window on her left side made her jump. She turned the key in the ignition and rolled down the glass.
"Are you ever going to come in, or shall I inform Mark that you're moving out?"
"I'm coming," she consented, muttering under her breath. "And we're divorced."
House moved to let her open the door. "Oh."
She followed him to the door. He opened it and walked in, leaving her to slip in after him and close the door. "You cleaned up." It was true. The place was tidier than normal. He had rearranged the furniture a little since the last time she had been there and she had no time to contemplate anything else because he was kissing her then, and she found herself with her back to the wall and her hands playing with the curls at the back of his neck. She pulled back with a great effort and drew in a ragged breath. "I don't think this is a good idea…" she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Mmm and I'm the nicest guy at the hospital," House mumbled against her lips, kissing her again and stopping any argument she had in her throat. "You know you like me," he added with a smirk, knowing full well she wasn't going to protest.
Her silence spoke volumes, and she breathed in sharply when he pulled her close once more and trailed kisses from her mouth along her jawline down her mouth to the nape of her neck. She melted against him, for the moment not caring about who could come by and see them, what they were doing, or what the consequences would be. He ran his fingers through her hair and cradled her head in his hand, rubbing the thumb of his other hand on her cheekbone, sending shivers down her spine and damn what he did to her…
He held her close to him and subtly pulled her button-up sweater off her shoulders, revealing a sleeveless black shirt. Her senses assailed him, and he kissed her again, a long, heated kiss that left him gasping at air and her knees too weak to hold her up.
They stumbled across the room over to the couch, locked in a tight embrace. He was too busy concentrating on finding a position that he could actually be comfortable in to care that Wilson might walk in at any moment, and she, trying desperately to keep her head on straight.
Stacy finally dragged her lips from his and let out a rush of air. "Greg…"
House glared at her for a split second. "Don't do that," he muttered.
"What?"
He swore under his breath. "Never mind." His mouth came crashing down on top of hers again, and she felt completely paralyzed; unable to stop his hands from trailing down her back and grasping her waist and pulling her closer to him, and powerless to keep him away for long…
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"I love you, you know."
Stacy rolled over and smiled at him. His breath tickled her lips, and he nuzzled her neck, the five o'clock shadow on his chin making her squirm a little. "I know."
House lifted his head and blinked sleepily at her. "Don't you have anything to say to me?"
She feigned innocence. "Like what?"
His ice-blue eyes flitted to the ceiling. "Hmm… let me think. Maybe something along the lines of 'Oh, yes Greg, I love you too, let's be together forever?'"
Stacy laughed at him. "Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" she teased.
Silence descended upon them like a heavy blanket.
A twinge of guilt.
"Don't."
Stacy glanced at him, surprised. "Don't what?"
"I can read you like an open book."
She sighed. "Oh."
"Mark brought it up, didn't he?" House shocked her again by saying.
"Mhmm." Stacy let her head drop back onto the pillow, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest.
Damn. He was supposed to be invincible, a force that never lost. He never let his guard down, and yet she could knock the walls down simply by breathing. He tightened his jaw at the voice in his head that kept repeating the same words, over and over. Tell me you love me, tell me you love me, tell me you love me…
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up abruptly. Stacy followed suit. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." He refused to look at her.
She smiled, knowing exactly what he wanted.
"You're easy to read, too."
"Am not."
"To me you are."
"Figures." He chanced a glance over his shoulder and found her laying back down again. A grin fought its way to his lips, and he turned. "Do I get the pleasure of forcing it out of you?"
"That's up to you."
He cocked his head and slid back underneath the blanket, tickling her. "Interesting."
She laughed. "I love you, you know."
"I know."