Author's Note: Baaack! And I'm fresh with new ideas after my excursion to the beach. I love this story to death and have a terrific idea of where it's going. I also have a few one-shots in mind. Stay tuned! (and thanks for the patience and reviews!)
Part II: The Three Fates
Have heart my dear
We're bound to be afraid
Even if it's just for a few days
Making up for all this mess.
--Snow Patrol, "Run"
It is said that time is the great solution to pain. It is a long, drawn-out healing process perhaps, but it is the only one that truly works. With time, the waves of grief and pain slowly recede and all that is left is a bit of an empty space. But even time cannot make up for certain unchangeable facts. In Part I, the catalyst of House's death was presented and shown through the eyes of four people. In Part II, the repercussions from his death linger, weeks and months after the tragedy.
Here's to time.
""""""
It has been three weeks since House's death and normalcy has returned to the hospital. Occasionally, I pause when I pass his old office or I'll look around for him and think, where's House? I need him for clinic duty. It's always those times when it hits me the hardest—if I need House, I can find him at the cemetery.
The staff cowers when I walk by them. I hear the whispers that I have gotten crankier since the death of House, but I attribute it to the fact that Steve and I haven't slept together in a week or so and that I haven't hit a tennis ball in the same amount of time. I need to work out those damn endorphins in my mind.
But my mood is stormy for other reasons, too. Chase and Foreman tell me that Wilson and Cameron are awfully close—apparently they found them together in a clinic exam room watching television. I have been able to write it off as two of House's greatest supporters coping with tragedy, but it's been three weeks; how long can you grieve for a man?
Wilson is my best oncologist and the head of his department. Cameron is a talented immunologist. What the hell am I supposed to do? If they have something between them…Wilson's married and I have a hospital to run. With the pressure from Chase and Foreman, I might have to say something to them. I'm thinking about asking Wilson to a meeting; I hope it's nothing.
The new diagnostician is John Rowe. He's good—I managed to convince him to come over from the Mayo Clinic. It took some prodding, but he finally did. House's ducklings are now under his tutelage. He's an excellent doctor, and his bedside manner is ten times better than House's (alright, anyone's bedside manner is better than House's). He solves the cases that he takes on and he has yet to lose a patient. I'm waiting (the fatalist in me is) for the moment he does lose one—is Cameron going to crack?
When or if Cameron cracks, what am I supposed to do with her? The staff can't help but feed one another to me. Sacrifices are fun. But the girl needs to get over herself. She meant nothing more to House than a simple possibility.
I arrive at my office and find Wilson sitting inside looking out the shaded windows. I enter and smile in his direction.
"Dr. Wilson. How can I help you this afternoon?"
"Leave Allison alone."
His words startle me; first name basis? Warnings?
"James, you know perfectly well I haven't done anything to her."
"I have friends in this hospital, Lisa, and I know what Foreman and Chase say about her."
Goddamn those nurses who buzz around like they have something important to do, and all the while get the good gossip from the doctors.
"Then you need to tell her to take some sick days and come to terms with this whole thing. It's ridiculous, James! I can't run a hospital and worry about a grieving doctor at the same time!"
"There's something wrong. You should look closer. House wouldn't have been afraid to."
"I'm not House and House is dead. Stop talking about him like he was a saint. He wasn't! He died in a bar fight—"
"A bar fight he did not provoke, Lisa."
"—But a bar fight nonetheless. And you need to watch out. I'm warning you as a friend, James, the board doesn't like hearing from two doctors that two other doctors are hooking up between shifts."
"Lisa, you know that's not true."
"From House the saint: everybody lies."
He stands up and he leaves the office without another glance in my direction. I collapse in my chair.
Dr. Wilson's a good man, but too good of a man. Cameron's going to screw up a procedure one day and the patient's going to sue the hospital, meaning its my ass that gets in trouble, too. I can only look out for them so much before I have to look out for myself.
"Everybody lies," I murmur.
I still can't remember if it's everybody or everyone. I let my head drop into my hands; the murmuring staff is right—I have lost my mind.
There's just too much that I can't deal with right now. Being strong (and along with strong comes nasty) is just my defense mechanism. I miss House's barbs and taunts as much as the next person. But these wounds need to heal quickly; I have a hospital to run.
It's the barking dogs that make me look up from my hands.
"You have a hospital to run, Cuddy, and too many damaged people to control. Do you miss me yet?"
I look up and can't help but wonder why I see Greg House standing in front of me. His cane is splayed out to the side and he is standing rather jauntily.
"You're dead."
"Aren't we all?"
And he disappears with the blink of my eyes. Facts and reason escape—nothing makes any sense. I don't if what I just saw standing before me is a figment of my needy imagination or of something more tangible. But I have never believed in ghosts and my mind needs some sort of familiar belief to grasp on to at this moment. Uncertainty have been in the air these past few days.
The dogs stop barking.
There's a choice I will have to make in the coming days, hours, and seconds. I know it will come and I know I will have to respond to Foreman's conflicted eyes and Chase's heavy, but stubborn, words. They'll be damnations and accusations and I can't help but think that everyone, especially Wilson and Cameron, die every time they walk by House's office.
Old office.
I know I do.