Chapter 1
Make It Without You
This is the starting of my fall from grace
My self esteem, it's seen better days
- Make It Without You, Andrew Belle
Thanksgiving
House gets out of the car, ignoring the flare of pain that naturally comes with a three hour car ride with no breaks in between to stretch the leg. His pain is bad, the limp a little heavier. He pops some ibuprofen into his mouth.
He actually brought with him a bottle of wine – the good quality kind. He doesn't know what to expect – the relationship between him and Cuddy for the past few months hasn't been the best. But hey, this is a good start.
He walks up the driveway and knocks on the door. It swings open, and the first thing that he notices is that the house is dark.
The house-sitter stands in front of him, and offers him a cold turkey sandwich.
He's surprised how crushed he feels when he realises that she played such a trick on him. Wilson actually pointed out to him the possibility that it might be a ruse, and he blew it off because he trusts her. This is probably the cruelest thing Lisa Cuddy has ever done to him. It doesn't seem like her at all.
He's trying to change. But she doesn't seem to want to acknowledge that at all.
He turns back and heads back to the car. His TiVo will be his companion for Thanksgiving then.
This time, on the three-fucking-hour journey home, he's going to make sure he takes regular breaks for his leg.
She stands in front of his door and says, "I've had enough, House. I actually felt bad about scamming you. But then you lived down to my expectations... And then some. There is no us. There never will be."
He doesn't say anything to her. His head is bowed as he shuts the door slowly.
He feels disillusioned and stunned at what just happened. Wasn't she there after he woke from his coma from the deep brain stimulation? Hasn't she been there for him for the past ten years? What about the kiss when the adoption fell through?
There is no us.
The rustling in the bathroom reminds him that Wilson is in the house. He immediately shoves his feelings away. He barges into the bathroom, and keeps up with his appearances, telling Wilson he has succeeded when really, he just feels hurt by her words.
"Can we at least be civil?" He asks her.
He's tired of having her tip toe around him, and him around her. He offers her the tickets to the holiday carnival, that he actually did buy from a nurse. The nurse had given him a weird look, but he still bought them anyway.
It's a peace offering from him. That's a first in their long-standing relationship.
She looks guilt-stricken, but she still rejects the tickets anyway.
This is when he really knows for sure: Lisa Cuddy is slipping away from him.
6 days before
He sits in his apartment, alone. His box of belongings are right next to him on the couch. All his stuff has finally been removed from the loft. Wilson's loft. There is no sign that he's lived there for the past year.
Wilson dropped him off earlier, an apologetic look.
"I'm sorry, House. But Sam's moving in and you know..." Wilson's voice trails off, and he gestures awkwardly in the air. He doesn't voice it, but House knows exactly what Wilson means. It would be awkward with you around here. Since you hate her.
So he's officially been kicked out of Wilson's loft. Wilson's ex-wife has displaced him. Wilson was married to her for two years, has dated her for a few months, and now has kicked out his recovering drug addict of a best friend - twenty years of friendship no less -, so that she can move in. How convenient it is to just get rid of House.
So much for staying with Wilson so that he has someone to support him and make sure he won't relapse.
Now he's back where his demons reside. Where he lived out his dream, his delusion, his fantasy.
"You want to kiss me, don't you?"
"I always want to kiss you."
Or really, his greatest nightmare, as it was when it all came tumbling down.
The Vicodin's been all cleared out, he tries to convince himself. There are two bottles hidden behind his mirror, but he chooses to leave them there, ignoring the fact that he really should throw them out. But he won't be able to get at them anyway. And nothing will drive him to relapse. What he went through before and during Mayfield is more than enough to deter him.
Or maybe they're his backup plan.
He limps to his cabinet, and takes out the scotch. He's tried to stay off the alcohol, but what with all that has happened lately… He needs some comfort.
He pours the amber liquid into his glass, and sloshes it around. It's one of his better ones, kept for a special occasion. He imagines it going down his throat – that familiar heat and burn as it travels down to his stomach.
He raises the glass to his mouth, and sips it. Turns out it's better than he thought it would be. Turns out he can rely on the alcohol more than he can rely on his friends.
4 days before
"House."
House doesn't look up. "What."
He's sitting on the chair, forehead on his cane as he ponders over his latest case. The symptoms are scrawled on the board, and they seem to make no sense. There seems to be no answer to this puzzle. And the patient is dying. He grips the cane so hard his arms tremble with the effort.
Wilson's expensive loafers appear in front of his eyes as Wilson comes to stand in front of him. He looks up. Oh, that guilty look. Immediately, House knows that Wilson is going to cancel on him.
"Look, Sam just told me that her friend is in town, and she would like to have dinner with us. I know we've planned this for months, but I really have to - "
House tries to mask his hurt behind his rolling eyes. He cuts Wilson off abruptly. "That harpy is ruining your life."
Wilson doesn't even apologise further. In fact, he heaves a sigh of relief that House isn't making things difficult for him. "I'll make it up to you some other time." He doesn't notice the hurt look in House's eyes that House hasn't managed to hide at all.
House nods curtly, and pointedly stares back at the whiteboard. He pries his hands off the cane, and begins rubbing his damaged thigh slowly and gently. The rain is not doing any favors to his leg.
Wilson doesn't notice the pain, and how tense House really is. He's forgotten how House is always in pain, simply because House doesn't complain about it anymore. Wilson is just happy that House no longer asks for Vicodin, even though there technically should be more pain without the narcotics.
Wilson knows that House's silence is his cue to leave, and he begins to do so. But as he reaches the conference room door, he hesitates and turns back.
"Just checking… everything okay back at your apartment? You know you can always come back, or at least talk to me if there's anything." Typical of Wilson to try and make things right.
He doesn't mention the pain he's in, or how terrified he is that he will reach for the Vicodin. It's getting harder now, especially with the recent bad weather.
"Everything's fine."
As Wilson leaves and the room is quiet again, the words he said to Nolan with utter conviction during his session just the day before come back to him.
"Wilson is not a consolation prize."
Now, he's starting to realise that perhaps he is the consolation prize.
2 hours before
Lisa Cuddy is on her hands and knees, stooped over The space is so tight, she cannot believe that House has been climbing in and out of this voluntarily for hours.
She listens as House speaks to Hanna. His voice is soft and low, but she can hear every single word in the enclosed space they are huddled in.
"I wish I hadn't. They cut out a chunk of muscle about the size of my fist, and they left me with this mutilated, useless thing. I'm in pain... every day. It changed me. Made me a harder person. A worse person. And now... now I'm alone. You don't want to be like me. You've got a husband who loves you. You have friends. You can start a family. You have a life. And this… This is just a leg."
This is a totally different side to him. One that she has ignored over the past year. He is connecting with his patient. He's baring his soul to someone else. There is no sarcasm, no impatience, no clinical detachment. His voice is gentle and earnest, and he looks into Hanna's eyes, asking her to trust him.
It is this moment that she realizes that he really has changed.
Guilt and realization rise up in her as she thinks of her actions of the past year. The words that she shouted at him earlier come to her mind. She can't remember the exact words she yelled. That's just the way it is. Words you spit out in anger and frustration are rarely remembered. But the look in his eyes after she yelled those hurtful words – it's stark clear in her mind and a chill travels down her spine at how lost he looked. How hurt he looked.
But something in those words of hers must have pierced House's resolve. That's why he's finally backed down, and is finally willing to do for Hanna what he should have done hours ago. And for that, she's glad.
She looks at House. They exchange glances. His blue eyes hide a storm of emotions and feelings that she can't figure out at all. She tries to tell him that she's glad he has finally come around. She opens his mouth, but he murmurs "I've got it" as he tears his gaze away from hers.
She climbs back out into the open. She doesn't realize how much her words really did cut through him.
1.5 hours before
She stands outside in the open air, surrounded by what used to be a building. She can hear the small saw that House has started. She knows the entire process far too well, and can imagine it.
As she waits, her thoughts whirl in her mind. There is a gnawing guilt in her. House seems to have really changed. And the whole year, she's been avoiding him, rejecting the idea that he can change, and has changed. They used to be friends, maybe even something more. But now, they're just colleagues. And it was her fault because she pushed him away. She's together with Lucas, but did that mean she had to push House away? She realizes that she's never really given him a chance to prove himself since he got out of Mayfield.
This tender, more emotional side of House that she caught a glimpse of down there… That's the man she fell in love with years ago. She has simply forgotten that he is down there, buried behind the cutting exterior he has put on to protect himself. It's the appearance of bravado and unfeelingness, and it is just a front that he puts up to deal with his pain.
Somewhere in there is still that man who feels. Who perhaps feels so much more than others do.
The confession to Hanna came from the deepest recesses of his heart, she's sure of it. She hates that it requires a situation as dire as this for him to express how he really feels. She hates that she needed to give him a good dressing down to wake him up, to get him to do the right thing. She hates that the feelings she has tried to suppress for the past two years are rising up in her, threatening to overwhelm her now that she's been reminded of his ability to care. That he's not just an immature and insensitive guy wrecking havoc in her hospital daily. That maybe, she loves him even though he's screwed up and it seems impossible for them to be together. For the past year, she's battled the feeling that she doesn't feel as much for Lucas as she does for -
Hanna's scream of agony pierces the air and interrupts her thoughts. It's pain at its very worst, and they cannot imagine what Hanna is going through right now. She's conscious. The mild anesthetic is not enough. She can feel it as bit by bit, her leg is removed.
A silence weighs heavily in the air as everyone listens to the tormented screams and cries of the young woman trapped in the rubble. They can barely hear it, but House's voice drifts up through the cracks as well. He's reassuring her, telling her that it's going to be over soon.
House pushes his own feelings down and away as he tries to be the doctor. He knows that Hanna has become more than just his patient. He performs the amputation clinically, as professionally as he can. He hasn't done one in years, but he knows what to do. He knows the risks of a field amputation. Fat embolism. Clot. Infection.
She has a fighting chance at living a good life. A happy life. With a husband who loves her and will no doubt love her even more after she survives this.
He has helped her make the choice he couldn't bring himself to make.
Is this the choice he should have made so many years ago? Would he still be with Stacy, happy? He probably never would have gone to Mayfield, never would have killed Amber, never would have been shot. So many possibilities. Would he be stuck in this rut that he's gotten his life into, or would he be happy?
Cuddy and Lucas are getting married. Wilson's happy with Sam. It's just him left, alone. He knows he's pushed people away far too many times. Now, when he's actually trying to change and to do good, even going to therapy, it's too late. The fact that he's gone to therapy for one whole fucking year is the most obvious sign that he's trying to change. It's funny how Wilson and Cuddy and everyone else can't see that.
House cannot believe that he has believed and trusted Nolan for one whole year. That things will get better, that he is better person, that he will find the answer to being happy. Because if he truly could be happy, he wouldn't be where he is right now, with the woman he loves shunning him over the past year and going to marry another man, and his own best friend choosing his ex-wife over him.
He reassures Hanna, telling her it's going to be over soon. That she's so brave. That it won't hurt anymore very soon.
That she's everything he's not.
It's over. It's a clean job. Hanna's screams have died down, she's sobbing and whimpering. He dresses and wraps the stump up the best he can.
She looks at him with an expression of pain, and of gratitude. Her eyes shine with tears that spill over, but she's looking at him with implicit trust and gratitude, because she knows that he helped her make the right choice. It was the difficult path to travel, but the necessary one.
He and Hanna were on the same side when she was fighting to keep her leg. They were kindred spirits, both understanding the value of a leg. She understood why he chose to keep his. No one else does. Not Wilson. Not Cuddy.
But now she has so much more to look forward to out there in the world. She's alive. Happy. There will be pain, but it will fade away over time.
Now, he's alone again. He tried so hard to move on. To chase the woman of his dreams, to live a fulfilling and happy life. Now, he's stuck with his fucking leg while everyone else is moving on.
Desolation and despair overwhelm him despite the fact that he has saved his patient. But he ignores them.
He'll be okay. He's always been okay on his own.
He reaches over, and takes her hand. He doesn't dare admit it, but at this point of his life, he needs the human touch as much as she does. She squeezes his hand, hard.
"Thank you," she whispers.
His voice wavers. "You did good."
He pauses, and then says the words that twist in his gut and are practically killing him. It's an admission, and a reassurance. Both for himself, and for her.
"You did the right thing."
1 hour before
Lisa Cuddy watches as the rescue workers lift Hanna out of the rubble. She's strapped to the stretcher board. What used to be her leg is now a stump. But she's smiling, and just glad that she's out alive. She mouths thank you to the rescue workers who carry her out, and they all pat her shoulder and squeeze her hand and whisper reassurances to her. You did great. You're so brave. You're safe now.
Cuddy does the same. She walks over to Hanna and smiles reassuringly. "You're out now. Everything's going to be okay."
She beckons to Hanna's husband, and waves him over. He rushes up to Hanna, and plants a tender kiss on her forehead. He's just so glad that she's safe and alive. He doesn't care about how she doesn't have a leg now. She's alive, and that's all that matters.
Cuddy witnesses this, and smiles. It's always heartwarming to see moments like these.
Cuddy walks alongside the stretcher as Hanna is transported to the ambulance. House isn't out yet. She'll come back later to check on his wound.
They're almost at the ambulance when the ground seems to rumbles beneath her feet. Panicked shouts ring through the air as rescue workers scramble off the ruins they were scouring and onto solid ground.
She looks back. She sees the unstable ruins of the building shifting. A shiver runs up her spine as she realizes that she was there just an hour ago. Under tonnes of rubble.
Then there is a cacophony of sound, a loud crash, and she can hear glass breaking, metal pipes clanging as the precarious stack of bricks and concrete collapses. It cuts off the small hole that is the path leading to where Hanna was trapped, that House had been climbing in and out of to get to his patient. The ground beneath her feet shakes, and she can almost feel every slab of concrete that falls, every piece of debris hits the ground as it vibrates beneath her feet.
A fine plume of dust rises into the air, and the everything is still once again as the rubble settles.
One by one, the men start shouting instructions again, checking for casualties and injuries. They're used to secondary collapses – it's part and parcel of their job.
Cuddy stops in her tracks. She scans the sparse crowd of men desperately for a familiar figure. She begins walking back towards them, walking, jogging, then starting to run. Surely, he made it out before the secondary collapse. But she doesn't see him.
As she runs towards the site with a rising panic and uneasiness in her gut, the last words she said to him suddenly crystallize into a painfully clear memory, and she can recall every single word. Oh god, how brutal they were, how cruel she was. Her feet pound against the ground as she runs back towards him. She hopes desperately that he's made it out; because those can't be the last words she ever says to him. She needs to make things right, tell him that she finally knows he's trying his best to change and that she's sorry. Sorry for her words and for the past year. For not giving him a chance to prove himself at all.
The shouts of the men suddenly increase in volume. There is panic in their voices, and renewed urgency in their movements.
"Fuck! He didn't make it out in time!"
"Call for reinforcements, we'll need to clear a new path down!"
"Dr House, are you down there? Come on, can you hear me? Give us a sign you're there."
She stands stock still in the middle of the ruins. Lights are flashing, sirens are blaring, but all she hears is her heart thudding painfully in her chest.
He didn't make it out after all.
