Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, I just borrow them sometimes.
A/N: Spoliers for episode 'Lucky Thirteen'. House's thoughts at the end of the episode. Please review.
"If you're happy, I'm..."
I know it's the second time I've run out before finishing that sentence, but really, what am I suppose to say? I'm happy? Things would be so different if it was that easy. I have to remind myself it would also be infinitely more boring.
It irks me, though. Something is tugging at something else inside me because I should be happy for them.
It could be worse. I could have told them what I really am when they're happy. Which almost makes me wonder why I didn't. I mean, misery loves company, right?
Maybe it was enough to see the fallen look on their faces when I didn't respond. I mean, why say it out loud? Their happiness does nothing to change the misery in my own life. Their happiness doesn't heal my leg or the other hurts inside me that I blame on my leg. Their happiness doesn't change me into a caring human being. They know it and I sure as hell know it.
I slam my apartment door shut as the something inside me turns to anger because, dammit, they just looked so happy before having to acknowledge my presence. Her happiness has no bearing on his but he just looked so...
I pop a couple of Vicodin and throw myself on the couch. He looked so happy for her. The way he smiled at her and made googly eyes at that damn crib, you would almost think that he was about to become a proud father.
Anger shifts to something else and I try to drown it out with beer.
The truth is, for a moment, I could see it. In that moment between opening the door and making a joke about them shopping there, I could see it. I could see Cuddy glowing from being a new mom and I could see Wilson cradling the baby, looking totally at peace with the world.
They say creation is the fifth level of happiness. They would be happy with their little creation and I would be...
While I was terrified of that being the case, I could see something else. While the three of us stood around the crib and I was trying to prepare myself for the worst, I could almost imagine what it would be like to be happy for them. They would tell me and joy would spring from some unknown part deep down inside me.
In that case, it wouldn't mean the end. It would mean a beginning. They would still keep me in their lives and with my new found humanity they wouldn't have to work so hard to keep me there. They would be proud parents and I would be Uncle Greg. I would watch the little monster to give them some much needed rest, or maybe a quiet romantic date night. Then, I would return the little rascal all hopped up on sugar because I would still be me and not some happy pod person.
A beer bottle slips from my hand. I can't remember how many I've had so I decide to go to bed. The beer did its job and I feel mostly numb inside.
In between my head hitting the pillow and losing consciousness, one thought floats across my brain. The end of that sentence I've been unable to finish. It doesn't matter if they're happy together or if they're happy for competely different reasons, it ends the same.
"If you're happy, I'm... alone."