Passing Afternoon
Her legs were folded up against the small arm of the chair, her head resting gently against the back, asleep. An arm was swooped lazily across her knees, the other draped over House's bed. Her fingers were entwined with his, somewhere in the folds of the sheets.
His eyes sat wide, unblinking. She doubted that his eyes had ever been bluer. With a quick squeeze to Cuddy's hand, House did a double take.
The blonde of her hair seemed to stand out against the white hospital walls, her pale skin like nothing he'd ever seen. Slowly, as her heels clicked against the tile floor, she made her way to the glass door to his room. She didn't reach for the handle. Instead, she lowered her head a brought a hot breath to the glass. The foggy cloud taunted House's eyes, unbelieving.
He watched as she traced her finger carefully along the glass, creating wet letters in the fog. "Thank you," the lopsided letters read, followed by an almost-perfect heart and the letter A. As he looked from the cloud to her face, something changed him.
Maybe it was the look in her eyes: honest gratitude and assurance. As she ran her fingers through her hair, a smile grew on her face. Perhaps the thing that shocked him the most, however, were the silent words that crossed her lips. "I'll be here. Just look, House."
Suddenly, as if Amber weren't there all along, she was gone. Casting a glance toward a still sleeping Cuddy, he breathed a sigh of relief. She was there, still, and a constant.
House wanted to tell her "Thank you," but opted against it. She looked so relieved when she slept, so at ease. He didn't want to take her away from that. Instead, he leaned over and pulled her chair closer to his bed, placing a kiss on the top of Cuddy's head.
He blinked hard, and resumed the staring position.