Title: All You Thought You Wanted
Author: Grissom
Summary: Have you ever thought you wanted something so bad, then realized it was the wrong thing when you finally got it?
Disclaimer: Uh…spoilers through "Hunting" at least.
A/N: Whee! My first House fic. Special thanks goes out to Wiccagirl for the awesome beta job and Megz for the support.
"You're not over me. You never were," he accused, jabbing his cane at her in emphasis. He watched her face to gauge her reaction to his accusation.
She looked away from him, taking a slow breath and closing her eyes. After a long moment, she turned back to him and opened them, and he found himself shocked at the emotion he saw in them.
"You're right," Stacy admitted softly. "You always were right. I never got over you; don't know that I ever will." She sighed, turning to move towards the window. She leaned against the sill for a moment. "I left you. And that's what kills me. I left you because I thought I wasn't in love with you anymore. But it was a lie. I never stopped loving you."
"Even though I'm an insensitive prick?" he asked. "Even though I do everything I can to get you the hell away from me?" He widened his eyes in mock surprise. "You've been taking lessons from Cameron. The meaner I am to you, the more you like me!"
She scoffed, turning back to him. "You always were an ass. When I first met you, during our relationship, after the leg, always. But I tolerated it. You know why?" He stared, waiting out the brief silence. "Because I could see the good person underneath. The doctor who risks everything on the chance that it might make his patient better. The man who refuses to take part in something that he thinks is a scam. That is the Greg House I fell in love with.
"And still, beneath all of this…self-loathing that you've buried yourself in, he's still there. I can see it. And it hurts, okay? It hurts to be around you sometimes."
House simply stared at her, uncharacteristically speechless. Stacy took advantage of this, pushing away from the sill and stepping to him.
He inhaled sharply at her sudden close proximity, his body being torn in different directions. Part of him wanted to shove her away, to scream at her for the betrayal that still haunted him. Another part wanted to hold her and tell her that everything was okay. And yet another part wanted to simply run away and drown himself in his whiskey.
As these thoughts ran through his head, she moved even closer to him. He could feel her breath on his chest; it seemed to seep through his clothing and warm his whole body.
He struggled to regain his composure. "If it hurts, why are you still here?"
"Because…I can't seem to stay away. The more I try to forget about you, the more I find myself thinking about you. Mark…isn't you. You were always the one." She moved closer, eyes locked. She lifted a hand up to run it over his cheek, against the rough stubble. House found himself closing his eyes at the touch.
"Do you like me? I have to know."
"No."
He flinched as the memory of his words suddenly came back to him. He tried to think of Stacy and all that they had been through together, all of the small moments that made him want her back, but he couldn't bring any to mind. Instead, all he saw was Cameron. Her smile, that apprehensive expression she got when about to ask a personal question, the tears that ran down her face when a case got to be too much.
"I want to know how you feel…about me."
He opened his eyes suddenly, startling Stacy. It was almost as if he was seeing her in a new light. She wasn't the woman that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Now that he finally had her within reach, he suddenly realized that she wasn't worth all of the effort he had put into getting her back." He'd been such a fool. "Stop," he said, so low it was almost a whisper.
She pulled her hand away as though she had been burned. "What?"
"Stop," he repeated, louder with more conviction.
Stacy took a step backwards, confusing and anger mixing on her features. "What's going on, Greg? Isn't this what you wanted? What you were working for?"
He stared at her for a moment, and shook his head slowly. "I thought it was what I wanted. But…" he looked away from her and fixed his eyes on a picture of her and Mark that was sitting on the coffee table. "Sometimes we don't know what we want until it's too late."
"Greg…" she moved closer to him. "What-"
"I have to go." With that, he stepped past her quickly and limped out of the door, praying that he wasn't too late.
He tapped his cane on the concrete, trying to figure out what it was that had lead him here. What had led him to stand in front of this building in the rain, sopping wet from head to toe?
At first, it was as though the shock of his decision to come here had prevented his body from recognizing the fact that it was freezing, but his senses seemed to have woken up. He started to shiver and took that as a signal that he had to make a decision. Either painfully make his way up the stairs to whatever would await him at the top, or tuck his tail between his legs and scamper home where all that waited was a bottle of Vicodin and a bottle of scotch.
He studied the stairs for a moment. Six years ago, the simple task of going up a flight of stairs wouldn't even have made him flinch. But now, the thought of limping up them was nearly enough to make him turn and go home. He swallowed a lump in his throat, gritted his teeth, and took a step closer to them.
Cameron was a mess, as was her apartment. She had all but run from the hospital at five. While there was nothing but a cabinet filled with medicine and a calendar that marked her potential fate, she felt it would be more comfort than the company she had at the hospital.
She snatched up a pile of clothes from the floor, something that felt very out-of-place in her normally spotless apartment. She tossed them in the hamper and went back into the living room to finish cleaning. Perhaps a clean apartment would be her first step back to normalcy?
She scoffed and shook her head. Everything was different. She had slept with Chase. Even if she had been as high as a kite, it didn't change the facts. And worse, House knew. What would he think of her now? He was already acting quite cold towards her. Perhaps this was just the tip of the iceberg?
A small Ziploc bag fell to the floor as she angrily picked up a folder and she froze, staring at the little white pills. What huge problems those little things had caused…
She threw down the pillow again and picked up the bag, stomping into the bathroom. She tore open the bag and dumped the contents into the toilet, smiling as she watched them swirl and disappear. Then she sighed. If only my problems were this easy to get rid of, she thought to herself.
A sharp rap at her door caught her attention and she froze. Her heart fluttered and she tossed the bag into the garbage and quickly rushed out into her living room. She hastily picked up some of the other items strewn about the room (including a sock that she was sure was Chase's) and tossed them all into her laundry hamper. She would deal with them later. She was just closing the bedroom door when the visitor rapped again.
"Coming!" she shouted, giving the room a cursory glance. It wasn't to her satisfaction, but it would have to do. She went to the door and pulled it open, feeling her heart sink into her stomach when she saw the man on the other side.
House was leaning heavily on his cane, water dripping from his hair and falling onto his already soaked clothing. His eyes met hers and she could tell that he was trying to look as casual as possible, but lines of pain were evident on his face. She glanced past him into the hall before stepping aside to let him in.
He looked at her uncertainly before moving past her, his limp much more pronounced than usual. Cameron shut the door behind him and motioned for him to sit on the couch. He turned to look at it, then back at her as if he wasn't sure what to do.
She studied him for a moment, noting the distant look of his eyes. She briefly wondered if he had taken too much Vicodin, but knew that she needed to do something before he caught pneumonia.
She grasped his arm and directed him to the couch, letting him sit before rushing off to the bathroom. She returned with a big, fluffy towel that she draped around his shoulders. It wasn't much, but it would help him a bit. And she wasn't about to tell him to remove his wet clothing…
For a long time, he simply sat there, his eyes staring ahead at nothing. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. She touched his shoulder to get his attention, surprised at the sadness she now saw in his eyes.
"Are you okay? You need me to call Wilson?" she asked.
He blinked and it was as if he was coming out of a daze. "No. I don't need Wilson. I need…" He froze."
"What? What's wrong, House?"
He sighed, suddenly standing up. He began to pace in front of her, his cane thumping with each step. "I'm in a bind. A major bind. Not some little 'have a few drinks and you'll forget all about it' kind of bind, but the 'you had better do something now before you fuck everything up' kind of bind. Quite stressful, really."
He stopped his pacing and sighed, his head thrown back a bit. "Were you ever so sure that you wanted something, only to discover that it wasn't what you really wanted?" he asked, not turning towards her.
She shrugged even though he couldn't see her. "Sure. Everybody has. But I don't understand what that-"
"I was at Stacy's tonight," he blurted. "Mark was out with some friends, and she invited me over. Said she wanted to talk."
Cameron flinched inwardly. If he had finally gotten back with Stacy, she didn't really want to know. "House," she began, but again he cut her off.
"I went, of course. I mean, that's what I wanted, right? So I get there and we do talk a bit. Mundane things really…weather, Wilson, Mark's health. Well, she talked about his health. I thought of ways to make it deteriorate. A few drinks, and she gets right to the juicy stuff. Talks about how bad it was of me to get into her records, to kidnap her rat, things like that."
He sighed. "She said that she still loved me; always would. And that was it. It was what I wanted from her." He finally turned to her. "But then I realized that it wasn't what I wanted. I didn't want her."
Cameron stared, not daring to believe what she was hearing.
"There she is, about to kiss me, and all I can think about is you," he said softly, his blue eyes set on hers.
Cameron worked her mouth for a moment, trying to think of a reply. Outwardly, she seemed rather calm, but her mind was racing, a thousand possibilities flying through her mind. House was thinking about her? What did that mean? Why had he come to her place? Did he mean what she thought he meant?
"I realized that she was the wrong person. I didn't want her. I haven't wanted her in a long time. I thought I had come to terms with that, but you know, her blowing in after five years was kind of a shock."
Cameron finally found her voice, and her courage. She stood up, taking a step towards him. "So what do you want, House?"
He turned again so that he was fully facing her, fixing his eyes on hers. "I want you. I want to try that whole date thing again, I want to be able to kiss you goodnight afterwards, I want to be there for you when you get your test results, I want to hear all of the boring details about your day, I want you."
Silence filled the air for a long moment, and he sighed. "Of course, I do realize that I probably am too late." His mouth twitched, revealing his discomfort. He let out a heavy breath. "Can't say that I blame you. I wouldn't really want me either. Too much extra baggage, you could say."
"And what I said before still stands. I'm not great looking, twice your age, mean as hell. Meanwhile, you're as nice as they come, drop-dead beautiful, and could have any man you damn well pleased. I didn't want to want you. But I can't help it. Stacy was talking, touching me, and I kept thinking about you."
Cameron stared at him for a long time, her eyes wide. Finally, she looked away, and after studying the floor for a while, moved to sit on the couch. He stayed standing, the pain in his leg subsiding to a screaming ache. He watched her as she sat, staring ahead blankly.
Finally, she blinked and turned to him slowly. "You said you didn't like me."
"I lied."
She smiled a ghost of a smile. "Yeah. Everybody lies." She fell silent for a moment, her gaze returning to the wall in front of her. "I lied too."
He frowned and stiffened inwardly, his mind going through a million possibilities about what she could have lied about. Each one less pleasant than the last…
"About what?" he asked slowly, almost afraid of what she might have to say.
She looked up at him, suddenly looking so young and vulnerable. "I said I hated you. I don't. I tried, but I couldn't make myself do it. You can't just…flip a switch and turn one feeling off and the other on."
He mulled that over before nodding. "Despite how hard we fight, our hearts get the best of us." He made a face. "Of course, love doesn't really exist in the heart. I wonder where that expression came from?"
She laughed softly, his words sinking into her mind. Love, he had said. Did he love her? Did she love him? It wasn't a silly schoolgirl crush; those were usually easy to overcome. A few tears in the pillow before you realized that that person wasn't the one for you.
But with House…she could cry a million tears and tell herself a million times to move on, and it would never happen. She could tell herself that she hated him; didn't want him. Then he would walk into the room and she would be right back she started. Watching him, wanting him.
He limped closer to the couch, staring down at her. "I can't promise anything," he said softly. She almost didn't hear him.
She shook her head. "I don't want you to. I just want you."
He smiled and slowly sat on the couch, giving her plenty of time to move if she so wished. But she stayed where she was, watching him. He leaned forward, running a hand down the side of her face gently, as if he was afraid that it was all still a dream.
His thumb went over her lips, feeling them and imagining them on his. Her eyes shot up to his, which were wide and set on her face. He shifted, and their eyes locked. He hand moved to push a stray strand of hair behind her ear, freezing as he stared into her eyes.
She moved first, inching her head forward, eyes never losing contact with his. He responded, moving forward himself. They were so close, they could feel the other's breath. He tilted his head forward, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek, lingering and breathing in her scent.
Then he pulled away and stood up. A confused and hurt expression crossed her face. "I'd better go. If I don't stop now, there will be no stopping," he said, raising an eyebrow for emphasis.
Cameron nodded slowly, standing up and walking with him to the door. She glanced out the window. "It's still raining."
He smiled as he opened the door. "I think I like the rain," he commented, then leaned in to give her another kiss on the cheek. "See you tomorrow?"
She nodded. While they had taken a giant leap in their relationship tonight, she knew that they still needed lots of work. Many things still needed to be settled and worked out. That would take time. Time they both had to be willing to take. "Tomorrow."
"Good night, Allison," he said, then disappeared, closing the door behind him.
She listened to the thump of his cane as he walked down the hall until it faded. Then she leaned her back against the door with a sigh and a smile.
Tomorrow was another day…And it was going to be a great day.
End