Sunday didn't fare much better. She had just sat down for another piano session when a knock on the door sounded throughout the room. After years of dealing with House, she recognized the wood-on-wood sound. She slowly made her way to the door and opened it a crack, frowning.
"Leave, House, she commanded, and the door that should've been slammed in his face was stopped by a cane pushed quickly into place. "House..." she warned.
"My head is pounding, so loud noises won't help," he said dryly. "Please, Elisaveta, I just want to talk." His voice had become somewhat sincere, and against her better judgement she found herself opening the door.
"Fine," she sighed, turning and making her way back to the piano. "You interrupted my warm-ups."
She began playing softly, his sigh matching the soft melody of the keys.
"I was an idiot to push something on you that you didn't want," she said slowly, keeping her eyes focuses on the piano in front of her. "I should have remembered that you don't like any change to the status quo. I won't forget again. I'm sorry."
"You're…apologizing?" he asked, astounded. "I screwed up and yet you're the one apologizing. Some things never change, Elisaveta."
"What do you mean?" she said sharply, drifting to the darker chords as her body tensed in reaction.
"You always have to smooth things over, anything to return things to a perfect world. You did absolutely nothing wrong, I was a complete ass, and yet you're apologizing when I really should be groveling to spend another minute here before you kick me out," he replied.
"You're not going to grovel, House, you're not the type."
"Gregory," he corrected. "After all these years, we should know each other well enough to call each other by our given names, Elisaveta."
"What relationship do we have, House? The old college friends? The mutual colleagues? The friends? The…what?" she asked him, letting her fingers drift over the piano into a mournful tune, one she recognized as an old musical showtune, the final song of "Blood Brothers."
He said nothing, merely watched her hands as she hummed along to the sad song she was playing.
"I guess I have my answer then," she sighed. "I'm your boss, House. You are a department head in the hospital at which I am Dean. There isn't anything else. You can go now."
She turned back to her music, every syllable in her body language screaming for him to leave. Instead, he sat next to her on the piano bench.
"You were a beginner in college, Lisa. How did you get so good?" he asked.
"I took lessons in elementary school before my parents decided that the violin and singing lessons were better. I couldn't do so many musical activities, and I chose the violin."
He nodded in understanding at that, and brought his hands to the keyboard to play the lower part of a duet he had taught her in college. She caught on and switched songs quickly, and for a few minutes they sat there playing, each's mind racing with possibilities.
Elisaveta could easily see a future like this. Coming home together after a stressful day at the hospital, one or both of them settling at the piano to play away a few hours. She could imagine herself bustling around the kitchen, putting her mother's recipes to good use while he played.
With a sigh she brought her hands crashing down on the keys in a mess of angry chords before rushing into her kitchen, empty mug in hand. She heard him stop behind her and the familiar thud of the cane on her hardwood floor soon resounded in the doorway.
"What's wrong?" he asked gruffly.
"What do you want from me?" she asked, and she prayed to any higher being that could possibly be listening that her eyes weren't glistening as much as she felt like crying at that moment. "I'm a forty-two year old workaholic who's a failure at being a woman. I can't handle relationships with my parents, colleagues, or old friends. I have no life outside my work and no idea how to live any other way."
"And I'm a permanently crippled drug addict. I use sarcasm like you use kindness. I'm abrasive, rude, and I mistreat people around me. I argue with you too much and I'm guilty as hell because I enjoy it so much. I push people away and sulk when at the end of the day I'm home alone with a bottle of vodka and a thing of pills. I'm tired of being alone, Elisaveta, especially because I want to be with you," he admitted.
"I can't…trust myself around you, House. I'm always thinking of what would happen, instead of trying to make a future for myself. I'm tired, House. I don't want to play any more games or have to check how I act around you. I can't function like that. We want different things," she said, shaking her head as if that would enforce the idea that much more.
"I want to be with you, Elisaveta. If you really wanted to be with me you could do it," he murmured dejectedly.
"And if there is a miracle and I get my baby? Would you still want the both of us? This is what I mean, House. We're both too stubborn to be anything short of the truest form of ourselves. Unless something drastic happens, that means that you and I stay apart."
Something drastic, indeed.
Thanks so much for the fabulous response!! I love reading everything you all have to say. As always, not mine, read, review…this chapter is pre Joy to the World, but I still haven't decided whether the next one will be before or after. Thoughts?