I neither own nor have any rights to any of this. It's not mine; it's just oozing out of me.
Regret
Gregory House backed away from the bed. He felt stunned. His breath coming in short, ragged gasp as he backed into the bureau, knocking items to the floor. He realized he was shaking uncontrollably.
'For Gawd sakes Greg, pull it together,' he mumbled, his eyes fixated on woman before him. House watched as Cameron wiggled deeper in the bed, pulling the covers over her head to block the morning sun streaming through the open blinds. She could not have planned a more flawless revenge for his outburst the previous evening even if she had tried. The fact she would never know how much she had just shook him made it, in his opinion, the perfect poetic justice.
'Damn that boy,' thought House, 'I'm about to have apoplexy over her dead husband.'
Somehow he could never bring himself to think of Cameron's husband as anything other than a boy. Which in reality was what he was; just a boy who had played at being a man. He would always be the boy who managed to be a husband, but never had the chance to become a man or a father. House had seen pictures of him; in fact, the first real fight they had as a couple was because of the boy husband. They had been in Cameron's apartment and it was to be the first time they were to make love in her bed. They had made love several times in her apartment, but before neither had waited to reach the bedroom. They had christened every room and practically every surface which they found would support their combined weight, with the exception of her actual bed. Once, they had almost made it, but had ended up in a heap on the floor suffering from rug burns.
House remembered his eagerness that night. Cameron had tried to make it special by filling the room with candles and romantic music. She had even relented and agreed to wear a very enticing piece of lingerie he had special ordered for her. House's passion for Cameron was unboundless until, sitting on the night stand where he could not ignore it, he saw the photograph of her boy husband. The boy was grinning in the lop-sided fashion he had of smiling, looking as if he were saying, 'Yeah old man, Go for it. Go ahead and screw my wife's brains out with me watching. I dare you to.' House had tried to knock the photo into the floor. That failing, he had eventually resorted to picking it up and shoving it under the bed. It would have been perfect if Cameron hadn't caught him. Her fury, he soon discovered, held no limits when it came to her dead, boy husband.
Leaning on the bureau for support, chastising himself for his reaction, House wondered if he would ever be able to compete with Cameron's ghost. He understood Cameron's attitude towards Stacy, she was a part of him Cameron would never know. A young, energetic House who loved to box, row, and play golf. Stacy knew the House who had been full of life and spirit, not someone who was damaged. Cameron's House was literally a different man than the one who had loved Stacy. For this House suspected Cameron hated Stacy as much as he hated Cameron's dead husband. But, Stacy was alive and someone both he and Cameron could openly battle. There was still time for him. He and Cameron could have memories to share and a life of their own. They could have a life together, have children, or even marry. He was not the same man, but he was a man who was still breathing and very much alive.
House had to contend with the idealized memories of a ghost. A dead husband who would be forever young, and would always be adored by his living wife. The dead husband, the boy, would never change. House would never truly be able to battle him for Cameron's heart. Yes, House knew Cameron loved him, but she still loved the memory of her husband more.
'Though lovers be lost, love shall not; for death shall hold no dominion,' whispered House, resigning himself to his fate. Tearing his eyes from the bed, he limped to the window, closing the blinds. With a last look at Cameron, he quietly pulled close the bedroom door, leaving Cameron to her dreams.
I must do school work, I must not play this game. I must do school work, I must not play, I MUST DO SCHOOL WORK..AAAUUUUGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH! I CANNOT PLAY!