OF MOMENTS PAST

by entercreativename

Disclaimer - Wish I owned them, but I don't.

Synopsis - House pines over Stacy leaving for good and accidentally overdoses on Vicodin. Plot in progress. Please R&R. House/Stacy, House/Cameron, House/Wilson friendship.

CHAPTER 2 - UP ON THE ROOF

As House fell to his office floor, he could see Stacy watching him, looking into his soul with her brown eyes. He saw her so strongly he knew she was there, but was it really her? Last he remembered though, she was leaving, so it could not have been her.

Several moments had passed as House lay motionless, the seizures having ended finally. His body felt heavy and he found that despite his best efforts he could not move any of his muscles anymore; his body felt like old gelatin from the hospital cafeteria about to melt from the fire the neurons in his brain had ravaged on his body a moment earlier. A chill overcame his body and he began to sense how cold he really was. Was it really a chill though? The more he thought about it, the more it seemed as if it was a late-afternoon breeze.

As House lay there, his senses starting to wake up again, he felt the warmth of a hand gently touch his shoulder and he could sense a presence standing over him. A light flashed in each of his eyes briefly and he saw a blurry figure haunt the area in front of him. Who was that? House tried hard to figure out who was there but instead fell further into his dream-like state, his body unaware of the chemical abuse it had just taken.

Consciousness finally started to return to House as he felt the same warm hand on his shoulder shaking him awake. He opened his eyes to be greeted by a blurry figure standing over him. As his eyes began to return to normal focus, he realized that the ceiling of his office was a light blue color and the lights were too bright. That couldn't have been right; last he remembered his ceiling was gunmetal gray. He'd have to talk to Cuddy about those things, but first, he had more important things to deal with, like, figuring out where he was.

House's vision finally returned to him and he slowly realized that the ceiling above him wasn't just light blue in color, but in fact it wasn't his office's ceiling. Instead, he lay somewhere outside in the late-afternoon air, his office furniture surrounding him still. The figure from before put a warm hand on his shoulder again, giving him comfort and hope. He saw a bright light being shined into his eyes, one at a time. Was Stacy doing that? He looked harder and decided that in fact, the shadowy form kneeling over him on the roof of the hospital was in fact Stacy trying to wake him up, kneeling in above him where he thought Wilson had been seconds before. What had happened? He tried to ask Stacy how they had gotten to the roof but found he was unable to talk yet; he needed more time to recover from the seizure he had moments earlier.

Suddenly, he felt the blood drain from his face and everything in front of his eyes went momentarily black. Was it all a dream? Was the apparition in front of him really Stacy? Was he really on the roof? One thing was certain: he definitely took too much Vicodin. He opened his eyes and his questions were finally answered; Gregory House lay on the roof of Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital.

House turned onto his side and took his cane in his hand, briefly noticing that his watch read 4:37 pm. He turned his head and saw and almost angelic figure standing by the edge of the roof overlooking the university campus. The figure did not move but the wind blew her dark brown hair and wispy tan skirt around as if she were a picture on the front of a Harlequin Romance novel. She was as beautiful as the first time House had seen her years before.

House finally managed to stand up, thanks to the aid of his trusted can and the skylight to the surgeon's lounge below him. He felt a slight loss of dignity when he realized how much better the surgeons were treated than Diagnostics and Oncology were. However, House brushed off the feeling as soon as he remembered how quick the surgeons were with the hacksaw and butcher- knife. He wanted a skylight too, but realized that would be impossible in a second-story office. He'd have to settle with sharing a balcony with Wilson.

House slowly made his way towards Stacy, cautious for fear that his dizziness may return. Suddenly, he was overcome by the strongest sense of déjà vu he had ever experienced in his life. Why did it seem as if he had experienced this already? Did he? It seemed as if he had been in his office with Wilson telling his friend about Stacy's departure. He shook it off, considering it an after-effect of what he now thought was just low blood sugar. Ever since the infarction he suffered occasional problems like that.

As he made his way closer to the angelic woman, he saw her turn around and walk towards him.

"Greg, I'm sorry we had to come up here, I know your leg has been worse than normal the last few days." The statement was her voice, but she couldn't have said it as she was too far away from him at the moment. It was if the sound of her voice danced on the wind. She looked at him with a puzzled look and her walk quickened with concern.

"Greg, are you okay? I can get Wilson…"

"No Stacy, I'm fine." He didn't want to see Wilson at this moment; he just wanted to see her, and feel her, and smell her. He saw Stacy put her arm around him, helping him walk towards the edge of the roof to look west with her over the campus like they used to do ages ago together before the infarction. However, as he walked, it felt as if his body was three steps behind his mind, which was now racing and spinning around in front of him, and obvious side-effect of the Vicodin flowing through his veins. He enjoyed the feeling, but didn't enjoy the loss of control he attributed to it. He couldn't lose control when Stacy was nearby. He had to admit that the feeling of being aided in walking was awkward to him even though he knew he needed help at the moment.

"Greg, I'm glad you agreed to come up here. I wanted to talk, but it would have been hard to do so in your office."

House gained some sense of composure to add the question, "And we couldn't have just gone to your office?"

"I wanted to come to a spot that meant more to both of us than just a silly room with a desk and some books." Stacy said that so sincerely that House instantly felt the warmth of the statement move through him. He knew she was trying to be sincere, and that only meant one thing.

"Greg, we both know that Mark's recovery has been a speedy one, and we both know we've been using borrowed time between us." House knew what was coming, and he wished that she would just tell him the news the same way he told patients they were dying.

'Greg, I know you don't like it when someone sugar-coats bad news, but…"

"…You thought correctly Stacy. I don't like it so you might as well just get to the point, which I figure is that you're leaving." House looked directly into her eyes. It never used to be easy to say these things to her, but then he got practice, and after a year or two of punishing her for causing him to be crippled, it became a lot easier.

Tears welled up in Stacy's eyes as she slowly let go of House's waist to turn to cry into his chest. House hated this, all of this drama. He knew she was leaving at some point, but he never wanted to admit it to anyone, let alone himself. Stacy's cries became louder into his jacket as she suddenly sobbed, "I don't want to leave you! Not again!"

House finally understood what she was saying. Stacy was in deeper love with him now more than ever, years of separation leading to the obsession that had ensued when she came back. House felt it too and put his free arm around her gently. He kissed the top of her head and could smell her shampoo. "I never wanted you to leave in the first place."

"Why Greg? Why did you treat me that way?"

"I was angry at myself, but the only thing I thought I could blame for everything was you. I thought that it would have been easier to die. I'm sorry."

House felt Stacy's arms tighten even more around him. He loved this moment, and didn't want it to end. He waited for Stacy to speak again, as he did not want to; if he were to speak, the moment would no longer live on.

"Stacy, you need to ask yourself, what do you really want from life?" It was a deep question and House knew that she'd have to think.

She continued to think. She needed the stability that Mark could provide, but she couldn't love him the way she loved House.

"What I need is this moment, you, in the now. Curry. I…" she hesitated, sensing the philosophical weight in what she wanted to say, "…I need this moment to continue on forever. Can it?"

House looked deep into her tear filled eyes, regretting the inevitable answer he'd have to tell her. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, knowing the punishment he was about to say to her in a single, simple word. "No."

The word rang acrid in the air around Stacy and House; Stacy didn't want to believe it and House didn't realize how easy it had been to finally say it. He loved her, but he didn't want to be continually reminded of her influence on his life. As Stacy realized the finality of what he had actually said, she dug her hands into his torso and her face into her chest. She heaved heavy tears of sadness and regret. She heaved tears for all of the lost moments she would never have with her true love.

"Stacy, I…" House had to think. What did he really want?

House continued, "If I could control the universe, and believe me, I've tried, I would stop time so that all we would ever need is each other. I'd erase Mark, and this hospital, and the rest of the world…"

"…and then I'd be just as lonely as I was the first time." Stacy looked into House's eyes. "Greg, I love you and need you so that I can survive, but I can't be with you. I meant it when I came back that you were the one and that you always have and will be. It's just…"

House closed his eyes at that statement. She had stung him once before the very same day he had saved her husband. It was raining that day, and he was surprised that it wasn't raining now, as he felt it should have been. He strengthened his embrace around Stacy and thought of the rain. It would have fit. He wanted to cry, she was crying, but he was too ignorant to his true feelings. He sighed heavily and heard thunder softly speak its echo across the sky above him as he felt raindrops start to pour down around him and Stacy.

"We should probably go inside Greg. We'll be soaked."

"I don't want this moment to end either Stacy, and if we move, then it will be over." She was better than Vicodin; with her in his arms, he felt he never needed the drug again.

House took one last moment to wish her goodbye. This would be the last time he saw her or would speak to her. As she turned to walk away, the rain filled in for House what he was truly feeling inside. He wanted to cry, to scream, to kick, and to run away. But all he could do was to look at her and watch her leave his life one final time.

Stacy was about to reach the door to the stairwell as she turned around and tried to yell to House over the thunder, "Greg, something's wrong!"

House saw her turn and try to say something to her but all he heard from her mouth was a gasp as she fell and vomited blood into a pool of rainwater that had collected near her feet. Sensing the seriousness of the situation he limped towards her as fast as he possibly could; the roof was slippery when it was wet. She was now hunched over her, illness tearing away the beauty from her face and replacing it with pain, sorrow, and suffering.

"Greg, help me!" she whimpered. House could see the blood that had spattered over her dress, staining the dress pink as it permeated the fabric that was already soaked with rainwater. He knelt over her to protect her from the rain and cold wind. To help her he knew that he needed to leave her, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. He scanned the horizon of the roof and saw two orderlies smoking under the eaves of the stairwell for protection. He called to them and they came to help. He saw the stronger of the two reach down and swoop her up from under his reach. He ordered them to page his team and admit her under his care.

He stood in the red puddle where Stacy had been, soaked with both near-freezing rainwater and her hot, bright red blood, the two liquids pooling together in the fabric of his shirt and slacks and chilling him to his core. He loved her, and though he was not a religious man, he knew that this was a sign from above. The moment between the two of them had ended, and not the way he had ever imagined or wanted for her. He had long ago accepted that their relationship would end with him leaving the world, but he could not accept the fact the other way around.

He knew he had to go downstairs to save Stacy, but he instead closed his eyes and wallowed in the pity of the sudden storm that had engulfed his and Stacy's love.