In Absence of Keen Judgment:
A House/Cuddy Tale
Story Title: In Absence of Keen Judgment
Story Summary: When one takes away the medicine, the trials, and the blonde wenches who walk in at odd hours, they are left with the bare bones of the pair. In that moment, in the small window, in the absence of keen judgment, something might just change. House/Cuddy. Spoilers for Season Five.
Genre: Romance/Friendship
Chapter Focus: #828 of 1000 Themes, "Tears of Joy"
Chapter Rating: K+
Word Count: 760+
Spoilers: For "Joy", nothing more yet
Author's Starting Notes: I actually meant to post this two days ago with "Would You Miss Me?" but I forgot. Sorry. Now, I know that the Huddy kiss was monumental and everyone seemed to really like it, but in this story, it never happened. This chapter takes place the same night as the kiss, I suppose, but in replacement of it. Read, review, and alert, please.
If you like this, check out some of my other themed work by going to my profile and looking at my online works at the bottom.
Time Stamp: Posted January 7th, 2009
I
The yellow walls stare mockingly back at her. All sunshine and bright, just as the mood had once been. What was once a plausible space for new life is now nothing more than a room ready for padded walls and soaked T-shirts.
She doesn't know why she's even here. It can't be healthy. Not even twenty-four hours after losing her last chance at motherhood, and she's already in this room acting like the world has ended. In a way, hers has.
All her life, she has been dreaming and wishing for that purpose. First, it had been centered on becoming the doctor she had always wanted to be. That quickly transformed though into another dream much more difficult to achieve. The dream of being a mother, of caring for something beyond the normal limitations, overcame her. It took over all her other desires, shading the rest from exposing, or growing. Then, only hours after it was finally realized, her wish come true was snatched from her trembling hands. The after effect being the mass of sadness she portrays perfectly on the ground of her guest room.
In between the sounds of her ricocheting thoughts, she hears the noise that comes from crooked footsteps on carpet. The pattern is so familiar that she knows who it is without having to turn. The door creaks open slowly. She lowers her head down further.
"You, uh, okay?" he awkwardly asks. His voice is gruff and uncertain. He obviously feels wrong being in the room. He should anyway. This room was never meant for him. She guesses it was never meant for a child either.
"I'm fine," she says weakly. It's a lie, but it is to be expected. She feels his deep, penetrating, blue eyes roam over her body, scrutinizing, checking for something. Then, it stops.
"Your hand is red," he points out.
She doesn't really react. She saw that coming. He always notices the little things after all.
"It still burns," she tells him after a pregnant pause. She knows he must be confused now.
"From what?" he asks.
She shrugs, even though she knows what he's looking for. She waits before answering, trying to choose her words correctly.
"The feel… of motherhood."
She can practically see him rolling his eyes above her.
"You didn't go anal, and wash your hands a million times, did you?" he asks jokingly.
She looks up at his face and raises her eyebrow slightly. She does not answer him. Well, directly anyways.
"I-it was so small, barely the size of a nail polish cap, or the depth of a beeper. I could feel her pulse in her hand, House. I could feel it. This power, this urge to protect. And, now… it's gone.
"I guess you were right. My dream was stupid. I was never meant to be a mother."
He looks into her eyes weakly. Her mind screams at her to look away. She knows what he will see in her eyes. Resignation, misery, pain, anger, revulsion; the same things she can always read in his. Except for now. Now, she is not so sure what to take from the startling intensity of his baby blues. They always have been searing, but the look he is giving her chills her almost as bad as Becky's withdrawal.
She feels the physical blow before she even hears him whisper, "Maybe you weren't."
She feels the tears after those words register in her mind. She really needs to look away now. Last thing she needs is for him to see her cry.
She tries to blink the tears away, unsuccessfully. Through the haze of her blotchy eyes, she sees him moving. He is stepping towards her, arms open. Soon, they are around her, blanketing her shivering frame in his steady one.
It takes her a moment to see what it is. The small embrace is everything he can never say, everything he needs and wants to communicate.
A thousand apologies, a million comforts, and one overall key point: love.
With that word, the dam breaks and all her anguish is released. Not only the melancholy brought on by the week's events, but much more. She cries for the man beside her, for the time they can never get back. She cries for Becky and for the greatness the girl tried to share. She cries for herself and her fallen dreams. But, mostly, she cries for Joy, the symbol of a chapter in her life that must now close, and the reason for the yellow room that seems to weep beside her.
© Everything written above belongs to me (FF user, Paint Me a Symphony). If somebody is out there pushing this as their own, they are lying. I may not own House M.D, or its characters, but I do own this.
