Chapter 55
Over the course of the next few months, there'd been no significant change in his condition: House still went to his appointments with Wilson every week, usually with Anne. The in-laws (it finally dawned on House that he was now related to his best friend…it seemed weird somehow and he had a bit of trouble grasping the concept.) ate lunch together every day and House's nights were spent making love (as cliché as it sounds, their acts had transcended from sex to a language all their own, yet another way to communicate) and actually doing things he never used to do, like taking walks along a crowded street or taking two hours to people watch or going to a movie without feeling lonely.
Both felt the pressure to live a lifetime in mere months and the urgency to make the most of their time was always looming high.
And he was amazed at how each moment spent with his wife made him feel as if he could do everything and bear anything. Every touch of her hands caressing his scarred leg dulled the pain; every whispered word of love against his skin stitched another wound in his battle-ridden heart; and each look into her brilliant, gleaming eyes was a balm to his dying stomach.
Neither had ever been so open or honest with another human being; for Anne's part, she was almost afraid to share her feelings with John since he didn't seem to care sometimes. House truly listened because she reciprocated and treated him as he'd never been treated before: with respect.
And it was for this reason that Anne was so open when House asked her, "Why did you and John never have children?" They'd just settled down to dinner on the sofa.
An apprehensive look filled her eyes, one that House immediately picked up on. "Why do you ask?"
"Because you don't use birth control and we never use condoms." He eyed her over his pizza which was quickly becoming cold over this serious moment. "What aren't you telling me?"
Anne closed her eyes and grabbed her soda, taking a long drink, hoping it would bolster her through this difficult situation. Wiping her mouth with her napkin, she looked up at her husband, studying his inquisitive blue eyes. "When I was 25," she began quietly and House had to strain to hear what she was saying, "John and I had only been married for six months when I found out I was pregnant. I was excited; John? Not so much." She paused and looked out the nearby window, watching cars pass each other in the street. "But John accepted it. As the healthy pregnancy progressed, my excitement grew and John came around; so much so that, by my eighth month, he was ecstatic. I'd never seen him like that, so happy and excited. We knew we were having a girl and even chosen a name: Elena Joy. He took time to go crib shopping with me, picking out the crib bedding and a beautiful mobile. We were the happiest we'd ever been…" she stopped, unable to continue.
"I sense a 'but' coming." House carefully said.
"Three days after the beginning of my ninth month, John and I were leaving a mid-morning doctor's appointment. I'd taken the last month off for pregnancy leave and John was taking me home, with a short stop at McDonald's for something tasty for my baby girl." Anne chuckled bitterly while House, almost afraid to hear what was next, just sat quietly. "We were halfway home when a monstrously oversized pickup ran a red light and t-boned us at about 65 miles an hour. It hit my side but, thankfully, it was the backend. I had no broken bones but the severity of the crash immediately induced premature labor. She…my baby girl Elana…"
"Stillborn?"
Anne nodded, tears crashing down her cheeks. "All the trauma from the sudden labor and the crash caused too many internal injuries and scarring." She took a deep breath. "I can't have children." She looked up at her husband. "Elena would've been 17 this year." And that's when she lost it, slumping over the end of the sofa. House was always uncomfortable in these weepy women situations. Remembering those cheesy chick flicks Stacy made him watch, he scooted across the sofa and took her in his arms, laying her head against his chest as she wailed. His heart contracted and his ire rose at the pain she felt and, for once, House did the right thing: he just shut up and let her cry. She'd had almost 17 years of "Whys" and "What ifs" that she certainly didn't need to talk about that right now.
*****
Scenes like this became common: one-sided crying or yelling sessions about their pasts, where the emotions were so powerful and so raw their mate could do nothing but listen. It would become so intense the neighbors finally came by one day to see if the couple was ok. Apparently the neighbors were concerned they were going to kill each other. Ascertaining they were, indeed, just fine, the neighbors left, shaking their heads in confusion. House and Anne went right back to what they were doing...which always ended in the cherry, queen-size bed that was rapidly seeing more action than Madonna's during her "Truth or Dare" phase.
Quietly, the clock continued ticking and time was running out for our couple…
*****
In the first week of the sixth month of his diagnosis, House had started losing weight he couldn't afford to lose; his stamina was quickly wilting; and he lost his appetite. Anne noticed immediately. "Greg, you've got to see James today. You obviously aren't feeling good."
House shook his head and picked up his cane, heading for his backpack so he could get ready for work. "I'll be fine."
"No Greg; I mean it. You can't go to work."
"Are you going to nag me forever?"
"Until you do what I say."
He smirked tiredly but he was stubborn and refused to believe her. "Come here," he said, waving his hands to himself. She reluctantly stepped in his arms and hugged him as tight as she thought possible. She could feel how weak he was and almost fell over when he leaned against her.
"No…you're staying here."
House released himself, leaned over and kissed her. "Goodbye honey, I'll see you after work." His best Ward Cleaver was pretty pathetic. But she couldn't stop him, no matter what she did. Deeply concerned, she watched the door close behind him and took a couple steps to the bedroom to finish getting ready to follow him to work when she heard a crash outside the door. Running back to the door, she flung it open to find House on the floor, passed out.
Several neighbors opened their doors, wondering what the problem was. Seeing Mrs. Fitzgerald from across the hall, Anne implored urgently, "Call 9-1-1! We need an ambulance, NOW!" For being an 82-year-old with a walker, that woman could certainly move! And she didn't hesitate as she picked up her cordless and called for an ambulance.
"Greg, baby??!! Can you hear me?" She stood up and ran back inside their apartment, quickly returning with her medical bag. Expertly she checked his vitals, which were weak. Five minutes later, the ambulance arrived.
As they were prepping him for transport, Anne pulled out her cell phone.
"Dr. James Wilson."
"James? Greg's taken a turn; he's not good. We're coming by ambulance and should be there in less than 5 minutes. Please, James…we've got to do something. I'm not ready for him to leave me yet."
"We'll be ready."
*****
