VIII.
Chicken.
Stacy set her jaw firmly and continued on her way to House's office.
Am not.
"Stacy." She turned, and waited as Wilson expertly threaded through the people to catch up and walk with her. "Did you talk to him yet?"
She shook her head in the negative. "I'm on my way."
"Just-" Wilson stopped, trying to figure out how to word what he wanted to say. "Don't completely shatter his heart, okay?"
She nodded silently, cursing the tears that threatened to form behind her eyes, and quickly turned away so he wouldn't see them. "Okay."
Don't do it.
Stacy ignored the voice and snuck into an elevator at the last minute, breathing slowly to calm her nerves.
You know you can't do it.
Can, and will, she argued with the voice and tapped her foot as the elevator doors opened to the floor of House's office.
Her stomach was in knots. Her hands were clamming up. She had the beginnings of what she knew was going to be a bad headache. And she was still going through with it.
I'm married, and I do not have feelings for him.
She breathed out heavily and began walking to his office.
Yes you do.
Stacy turned a corner and ducked into an empty restroom. What was wrong with her? She splashed cold water on her face and stared at herself in the mirror. It's for the best.
That's what you think.
She closed her eyes. And it's the truth. Now leave me alone.
One more thing…
She squeezed her eyes shut, even though she knew full well the voice was entirely her imagination.
You know you love him.