Title – A Missing Poem: ABP Sequel
Poem Piece- Tell me everything is fine. Lies are always better than truth. Tell me there's a reason for falling apart. We both know the fault is mine.
It happens in bits and pieces. Doesn't it always? One part fades as the machine is unplugged. It struggles for breath even as one man holds onto her arm so she doesn't fall. Another piece drifts away with every 'Sorry,' said as she's seen. A little bit tears down as she bows her head over the blank white paper meant for his eulogy. A huge bit dies as she stands with one single white flower over his casket. The day is unusually sunny with birds chirping and bugs flying. She lets the flower fall.
He watches her, of course. When has he never? He stands behind her as her brother is untethered from machines, curious over her stoicism. He becomes irritated as everyone comes forth with apologies. Why are they sorry? And as she sits at the lone coffee table, the white pen nowhere near her fingers, he can't bring himself to go to her. She had never asked him to go to the funeral, even when he expected her to. Instead, he had told her he was going, garnering only raised eyebrows and a slight nod.
She stands alone, apart from the rest of the crowd with her arms crossed loosely. The wind shifts just barely, an ominous omen if there ever could be on such a beautiful day. He doesn't know why he's here. It could be because he's never met her family. It might be because he didn't want to work today. It may be because he loves her.
Her brother's wife is a ghost of someone once living. Her brother's daughter is alone in a world where no one is let in. Her brother…is now her dead brother. She turns, the thought fiercely thrown away because she doesn't want to face reality just yet. But then she sees him, leaning heavily on his cane under one of the tents. Reality just won't leave.
She's going to hate him, he thinks as he sits down with a dense sigh on the edge of the bed. She needs to deal with this before she loses herself, and he loses her in the process. He looks up as the bathroom door opens and she steps out in her tank top and long shorts.
20 minutes alone in the bathroom and she already knows what she's going to have to say. After all this, she's going to be the one to end it…or at least pause it. Staring at him, she finds herself angry. Why do they always end up here? Everything is circular with them, and that's not what she needs now.
"I love you."
To anyone listening, those words would sound gruff and uncaring, even false. To her, it crumbles the last part of her strong enough to stand. She covers her mouth, hoping not to cry out. Her eyes close, trying to control the storm raging. She sucks in one deep breath before he stands and she can't hold herself any longer.
He can feel her breaking from here. He can feel her sorrow dancing lazily across the room in mockery. He can feel her shake as he stops just inches from everything that is her.
She manages one word before her world turns blurry. "House…." She should have known she couldn't hold it forever. It's not healthy for a person to go so long without dealing with reality. She shakes her head, still trying to fight it off for just a few more moments. Even as her shoulders jerk, the tears don't fall until she lets go. She wraps her thin arms around his healthy waist, presses her hurting head onto his strong shoulder, and cries.
He can only hold her. Any words are meaningless and she won't remember tomorrow anyways. His left hand slowly strokes her hair, almost as if she's a fragile china doll. At this point, it's not half wrong.
They've switched sides this time. She's the little spoon and he's the big one. He watches her side move as she breathes in and slowly out. It still surprises him that he cares so much. He cares even if he knows she was going to try to end it. 'Try,' being the operative word since Gregory House was not about to go down without a fight.
He mutters under his breath that he's going to yell at whatever demon is at his door this early in the morning and even opens his mouth to act when he suddenly starts. Marly Daniels, dressed impeccably in black and Little Isabelle Daniels, wearing a simple shirt and jeans, are standing on the front steps.
"I have to go away for a little while, Mr. House."
"And that's important because?"
Her voice is nearly shrill as she puts forward two suitcases. "It's just for a few days until I get everything settled."
"Wait a minute," he says, pushing the suitcases back.
"I can't do this!"
"Neither can I!"
"Allison will want her."
"Greg doesn't."
"You have to," she replies simply.
Blinking takes only a second, but in that second Marly Daniels has given her child over to him and his Cameron. The woman is gone before he can run after her, leaving him alone with the dark haired child.
A/N: Yep, that's my silly little twist. Maybe not so creative and oh so stunning, but there you have it. I'll try to keep this story alive okay? Okay. lol. Thanks guys.