A/N: Downloaded Pete Yorn's "Lose You", the song played during Kutner's funeral. Made me cry all over again, because it makes the reality of the next statement kick in: Kutner's dead.
–sigh- I support Kal Penn's decision to go to the White House, but that doesn't mean I can't mourn over Kutner for a good few months…
Partially for the Kudley Army, the hints of Kudley anyway.
Disclaimer: I don't own House. That's pretty obvious by now.
Summary: Thirteen and Taub have always been the type of people to block things out. MAJOR SEASON 5 SPOILERS
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play pretend
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Everyone else went home after the funeral. Thirteen went back to the hospital.
She didn't know why. Maybe it was because she couldn't go to her apartment. Not with the pictures sitting quietly in her bedside cabinet. The Christmas party, their one year "We're-still-alive-after-working-with-House" mock party Kutner had managed to drag Taub to. Candid shots. Pictures in general that reminded her Kutner was once there, alive, breathing, and well. The pictures captured moments that could never be relived.
They reminded her that similar moments would never happen again.
The elevator dinged and she stepped in, her chest burning when she remembered yet another conversation she'd had with the Indian doctor.
"You have Huntington's?" "No." "But House said…" "If I wanted to talk about it, I would've mentioned it."
She would give anything, anything, to talk to him again. To get the images of his lifeless eyes, the blood splattered floor, out of her head. To let the doors open and see him standing there, rocking on his heels, hands in his pockets, waiting for her to walk through. Grinning. Telling her that House was pissed she was late again and did she want to get some coffee during their break?
The doors opened again, but the only person standing there was an orderly with a bunch of papers in her hands, trying to get to the residents downstairs before she got in trouble. Thirteen stepped aside quietly to let her by and walked out, her throat constricting when she saw House's office.
"And you managed to get a cat to pee on his chair." "Yeah. A cat."
Damnit, why wouldn't the memories just get out of her head and leave her alone?
Checking on Eddie and Charlotte might do her some good. Whirling on her heels, she stomped away from the office, from the last place she'd seen Kutner alive just days before, grinning at her from across the table as House listed off symptoms as usual.
A little faster and angrier than she had intended, she made her way through the halls, scaring an intern as she walked faster and faster towards the patients' room. She turned the corner and stopped in her tracks, aqua eyes widening as she saw the figure sitting on the bench in front of the door.
Slumped over his knees, his shoulders shaking, his face buried in his arms, Taub looked like living hell. Granted, he had every reason to, but still. Taub blocked things out. Taub was the one who was cold, bitter, uncaring. Taub was the one who got the job done and didn't bother getting close to the patient. Taub never let anything get to him. If House shot a withering comment at him, Taub retaliated with a response every bit as snarky as the original statement. He bantered with everyone.
Seeing him break down like this tore Thirteen's heart into even smaller pieces.
The team was done, beyond repair. And the thing was, this was different from Amber's death. Completely different. Kutner had been around for two years, smiling, laughing, just being Kutner. She never stopped to think about just how much the team depended on him. He was like the sun. Always shining. His presence was taken for granted.
She always expected him to be there, and now that he wasn't, it was like a hole had suddenly appeared in her chest and was threatening to take everything with it.
Looks like Taub thought that way too.
She walked up slowly to him, slower than she'd been moments before in her angry fit, and stared down at him.
"I'm fine," he croaked from his arms when he sensed someone standing above him. "I'll be okay, just go away and deal with your patients."
"Taub?"
There was a brief pause, and then he said quietly, his voice cracking again, "Previous statement still stands. Don't bother asking."
"I wasn't going to."
She sat down next to him and, after a brief bout of hesitation, placed her hand gently on his shoulder. He was actually trembling. The realization made her eyes well up again, but she brushed the tears away. She let him cry for a bit longer, until the shaking finally stopped and he just sat there, his face still hidden in his arms. After a moment, she spoke up.
"I'm not going to ask if you're fine, I just need to know that you're okay."
He sighed and raised his head from his arms, leaning back until his head made contact with the wall behind him. His dark eyes were red, tear tracks still running down his face. If he looked like living hell from far away, God could only describe what he looked like up close.
"I feel like shit," he said, rubbing at his face with the sleeve of his coat. "You?"
She shrugged. "The same."
There was a long silence as they both just sat there.
"How…" she started, but stopped, unable to go on. Taub stared at the room. "She's dead," he said, almost back to his old, Taub-y self. Straightforward. Frank. That was Taub through and through. If it weren't for the redness of his eyes and the little streaks of dried tears still staining his face, she would've mistaken the day for any other one. Only one thing would've been missing, but he could've just as easily been down in the hospital café getting an apple as buried in the local cemetery.
The thought made her chest clench again.
"Eddie's sleeping right now, I gave him some sleep medication," Taub continued, gesturing half-heartedly with his right hand. "They've already moved Charlotte down to the morgue. Where's House?"
"I have no idea," Thirteen shrugged again. "He wasn't at the funeral."
Big mistake. Taub bit his lower lip, staring down at the floor, but after moment it was clear he wasn't going to say any more on the subject. Releasing his lip, he shook his head, sighing, and said lightly, "I'm in serious need of some caffeine." He ran a hand over his face before letting it settle back into his lap. He'd shifted back into his usual sitting position, leaning forward with his hands clasped nonchalantly between his knees. But he still stared at the floor.
"The café's open," Thirteen muttered after another pause.
"Yeah, because I really want to go down there and be stared at. Oh look. The guy who just lost a fellow team member, let's all go over there and give our condolences. Let's play pretend like we actually care."
You 'played pretend' the past two days, Thirteen accused silently. Instead she said out loud, "Well, we could go to the local café down the street." When he gave her an inquisitive look, she said lightly, "I could use some coffee myself."
The corner of his mouth twitched as he said, "Yeah, alright. As long as your boyfriend doesn't mind."
"Foreman won't care," she said under her breath. Really, she was sort of glad Foreman wasn't around. After what he said, and then when he tried to make it up to her at the funeral, she'd been just a little pissed at him. Plus what Charlotte had said about love was slowly trying to worm its way into her thoughts.
A concerned look, a genuine smile, a questioning glance.
Kutner always gave her those things, long before Foreman ever came back. Little things that she would return sometimes too. Even the picture at the funeral had conveyed the happiness he always seemed to be feeling. The heavy feeling of the casket still weighed down her mind. Thank God it had been closed casket.
"Why didn't you go to the funeral?" she finally asked, looking over at Taub.
"Because I didn't," he said in a tone that projected he didn't want to talk about it.
"You can't pretend this didn't happen, Taub."
"I'm not."
"Then why—"
"It makes it too real." He shook his head, frustrated. "Just drop it."
She did, but whatever she had said seemed to be getting at him, because his droopy eyes were wet again. After a moment, he wiped at them yet again. Thirteen regretted having brought it up. She didn't know how close the two were, but she had heard about the multiple antics they had gotten into. In a strange way, they seemed almost like best friends.
"He was an idiot," Taub said softly and suddenly, interrupting her thoughts, his eyebrows clenched together. "And I miss him like hell."
Thirteen felt her face scrunch up as she tried to will the tears back. "Goddamnit," she muttered, turning away. "Stop being sentimental, I'm done crying for today. Any more and I'm going to need an IV drip."
Taub actually laughed at that, though it sounded almost forced, as though he wanted to laugh but had forgotten how.
"Come on. I need some coffee." He pushed himself off the bench, stretching his legs. Thirteen followed suit. At least the coffee and the company would get her mind off of the past two days, for however short a time. No doubt her dreams would be plagued tonight. If she managed to get to sleep, of course. If she ever even went home.
"You know something, Taub?" she said, and he turned to look at her. She bit her lip, then said quietly, "I miss him, too. A lot." Her fists clenched at her coat. "And I just wish I could tell him that."
He smiled a sad little smile that said all too clearly, so do I. But he said nothing, instead opting to turn around and make his way down the hall towards the elevators. After a pause, she walked after him, trying to catch up.
"What kind of coffee are you going to get?"
"Dunno," he answered, pressing the button. "Maybe a latte. No idea. Something caffeine-enriched and teeth-yellowing. Something that will have me bouncing off the walls."
"I heard the place has really good mochas."
"So have I. Maybe I'll get one."
"Think I will too."
The elevator doors dinged and they stepped in. The elevator seemed larger without the third body standing there next to them, quietly humming the Star Trek theme under his breath, or asking if they saw last night's episode of Mythbusters. Wondering out loud whether or not their next case would raise their overtime pay. Laughing quietly to himself about something only he would laugh at. Questioning whether or not Cuddy will let them have an Easter party after last year's fiasco with the eggs.
The silence was deafening.
They could play pretend all they wanted, but in the end, there were just some things they couldn't block out.
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end
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A/N: -sniffs- Rest in peace, Kutner. We all love you.
Reviews are lovely.