„House, MD" doesn't belong to me, and neither do the characters. A violation of copy rights is not intended.
English isn't my first language, and this story was not corrected by a beta reader. Please have mercy, I am trying my best.
Summary: What if it had been House, not Amber? Major inspiration for this came from Björk's song "Play dead". This is really short.
Partly Cuddy's POV.
WARNING: Character Death!
I play dead
it stops the hurting
I play dead
and hurting stops
it's sometimes just like sleeping
curling up inside my private tortures
I nestle into pain
hug suffering
caress every ache
I play dead
it stops the hurting
Björk – Play dead
Just like sleeping
You couldn't tell that Amber had been in an accident.
Like a pale marble statue she stood next to Wilson, both her arms locked around his left one, her head resting on his shoulder. From time to time, Wilson would bend down a little to kiss her golden hair.
There was a cut above her left eye, and a brace around her left wrist, the only visible leftovers on the outside. The inside on the other hand was a bit of a different matter.
Lisa Cuddy didn't know anything about Amber's feelings or her state of mind, she wasn't really acquainted with the other woman. There had been a few visits out of courtesy during the few days Amber had been recovering at the hospital, but nothing more.
All Lisa knew was that Amber had been one of the doctors House had considered to hire, that House had nicknamed her Cutthroat Bitch, that she shared a few similarities with House when it came to their personalities…and that she seemed to be Wilson's great love. Or at least the current one. A week ago, Lisa had decided that this was all she needed to know.
Amber wasn't crying, and her eyes weren't particularly red, but it seemed as if she wasn't able to look up from the ground.
There were a few people at the funeral Cuddy didn't recognize, she suspected them to be relatives. Most of them were trying to calm down Blythe House – his mother, who was crying in an almost hysterical manner. His father had decided not to attend, and now, for the first time in her life, Lisa began to understand that there had been a good reason for the hate House had felt for his father.
The others seemed to be colleagues of maybe friends from different stages in House's life. A few women were among them.
Wilson looked like he had been crying, he looked like he had been crying a lot, but only his red eyes gave him away. Otherwise his face was a mask.
'He isn't sure how he is supposed to feel right now…should he be grateful for Amber being alive or grieving over House's death? It is difficult for him to be feeling both things at the same time.' Lisa thought.
She sighed. Yes, he would grieve, he would be in pain over the loss of his best friend, and it would take some time for him to get back on track.
But one day, he would forget about House. He would marry Amber and have a child with her. Maybe even two. And they would live happily ever after.
Cameron was crying. She had tears streaming down her face like a small child, but wasn't uttering a single sound. She was holding a rumpled handkerchief to her left cheek, her small hands curled into fists.
Chase sat next to her, with his arm around her shoulders. He wasn't crying, just staring at a spot in a far distance only he seemed to be aware of.
Foreman had his face buried in his hands, so people wouldn't see, he didn't look like he was crying, but Lisa was sure he had to deal with his own fair share of grief.
It didn't seem like such a bad idea, so she lifted her hands to cover her eyes. Maybe, if she held them close long enough, all this would go away.
Yes, Wilson and Amber would be getting married, and so would Chase and Cameron. And Foreman…would try to be the best doctor he could be, and eventually find his own personal happiness. They all would. Because when you really thought about it, things turned out the way they just had to turn out.
'The young couple in love is safe, and the old cripple dies.' Lisa had to bite her lip to keep the sobs from breaking out of her. Yes, House would be forgotten. A distant memory of a misanthropic man they once used to work for, but nothing more.
Lisa took her hands out of her face and noticed they were wet. Traces of mascara clung to her pale fingers like black ink.
As they let the coffin slowly sink into the wet earth, Lisa remembered the time when House had decided to stick a knife into an electric outlet. His heart had stopped and he had to be reanimated – that man had seemed to collect cardiac arrests like other people collected stamps.
She had been standing next to his hospital bed, torn between the urges to hit him and scream, or to hug him and cry. His eyes had been closed, but he had opened them for her as she quietly called his name.
"House?"
"Hm?"
"What is it like?"
"What are you talking about, Cuddles?"
"Being dead."
He had smiled, and it had caused a shiver to run down her spine.
"It's sometimes just like sleeping."
Okay, so that was it. I had this idea when I was watching the season finale, and I thought: Would everybody be reacting like this if it had been House? Sure, people would be sad and all, but I had the impression that there'd be a reaction like: 'Oh he died? How sad. Well, thinning the herd, right?' So I felt compelled to write this. Just to do House a tiny bit of justice.
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