Thank you to mikki13 for all her efforts on this. I could not have done it without you. All mistakes are mine and mine alone.
un·con·scious (adj.) Without conscious control; involuntary or unintended; Occurring in the absence of conscious awareness or thought
Allison leaned back against the chair in the conference room, sighing deeply. She wanted nothing more than to go home and soak this nightmare of a day away in her tub. She didn't know how much more of House (or her co workers) she could take today. Closing her eyes, she wondered how her life had come to this point.
She remembered the salty taste of her tears as she stood near her father, watching him place the last of his life onto the backseat of his Oldsmobile. Her mother stood on the screened porch, witnessing the end of her "20-year" marriage and Allison knew that her life wouldn't (couldn't) be the same. As her father leaned down to kiss her on the cheek, she realized that she couldn't let this be the moment that defined her. She silently waved good-bye, leaning against her older brother for support. He pulled her closer to him and what she didn't know (understand) was the simple gesture would start the pattern her life would take.
The sound of a book slamming caused Allison to jump and her eyes flew open. Her mind was still on her dream and all she could think about was the day he left them. Foreman leaned down to stare at her. "Sleeping?"
"No, resting my eyes." She retorted, slightly defensive. She felt a bit guilty since they were all putting in a long day with their new case. Inwardly sighing, she grabbed the medical book from Foreman, shaking off the last bit of the past from her mind.
Allison groaned as she shrugged off her coat and tossed it carelessly over the dining room table. Kicking her shoes off, she padded through the bedroom into the bathroom. She was going to soak if it was the last thing she did tonight. Finally, finally she could erase this day with a lovely glass of wine and peace. For once, Allison felt her mind was clear of the daily jumble of House's sarcasm and the small bit of hurt that came with him. She rubbed her hands against her eyes and leaned her neck back against the cool tile of the tub.
David was the perfect boyfriend, perfect husband, perfect everything. They created a bubble of Allison and David (she was too young, he was too damaged), David and Allison. Her brother never approved of David, telling her he was using her, her mother had cried (you're making a mistake) but she had married him, and for awhile she was happy (she had thought).She knew he was sick, knew the toll it would take on her and her marriage, but she loved him and wanted (needed) to care for him. She spent many days and long nights caring for him, and in his last days, he thanked her. That was the one and only time she cried over him (for them). On the day after he died, when the loneliness had set in once again, Allison could not shake the image of her father leaving, or the stark emptiness she had felt the day he left.
Opening her eyes, Allison twisted a lock of her hair around her fingertips. She only wants to remember the happiest of her times with him, the kisses on the pier, teddy bears won at the carnival, and the flowers at sunset. Only she can't remember if it was love (true love) or the safety that came with Allison and David. Sighing, she reached for the towel hanging above her head. Tomorrow was another day, another chance to relive all the mistakes that she has made.
The day that she met Dr. Gregory House, every instinct told her to run (hide) and to protect herself. Here was something darker (damaged, damaged) than she'd seen in her young life, and she knew it would only cause her more pain. She was attracted to him physically from the onset, but it was the small hints that showed the hidden depths of his character that appealed to her. She could see the compassion that lurked beneath the surface of the man, veiled with wit and verbal volleys. He held a magnetic pull over her, and she was helpless to fight it. She tried, she really did, and her body held the bruises as proof. She allowed him to bend the circle of protection she held captive around herself by allowing him to learn a little of her past pain with her husband and his ordeal. He never let her forget how much she's shared, how vulnerable she allowed herself to become to him and it was a lesson that she continued to forget as she repeatedly allowed herself to appear naïve and vulnerable to him. Even to this day she cringes when she remembers the hallway conversation she had with him and his look of disdain at her need to understand his feelings, or lack thereof for her.
He once told her that she was damaged, that they were both damaged and no good for one another. She had stared at him wishing him to take back the hurtful words simply because she had nothing more to say. Later that night, she decided that she had the strength to move forward and only hoped that she had the courage to hide her pain as well.
She remembers hearing him say these words to her, remembers the compression against her chest as she absorbed the impact of his words, and can vividly remember thinking how weak this man was (he was a liar). Allison is not so sure anymore that she is the one that can change him. How naïve he must think her and for once, Allison silently wonders if he's not wrong.
Chase was part of the game. She wasn't sure when she'd changed, when she had become this woman (When had she become this woman?). Changing back and forth from aggressive to passive. Strong to Weak. Some days she felt secure and confident in herself, the next brought low by Chase's suggestion that she had sabotaged herself. She grimaces as she thinks of Chase. She's not sure why she's manipulating him (is she?), and using him so carelessly. Emotions have begun to swamp her and it was beginning to take its toll on her. Anger, shame, and pain take up the most room in the litany of why her heart feels so heavy. Today was no better than yesterday and she knows tomorrow will be more of the same.
Lying in bed, Allison stares at the ceiling fan as it makes its quiet rotation. Silently trying to make sense of the path she choose for herself.
These days she can barely tolerate being in the same room, breathing the same air as House. She wondered how love and hate became so blurred and when it started tasting so bittersweet. Was it really hatred or was it something else? Shame in him, disappointment in him, misery with him. It was all of those emotions yet, none of them.
She still wonders at the empty space, and why they always leave when she only wants to keep them close.