A/N: This time I'm only giving you one snippet. This is longest I've written so far, that's why I'll only post one.
This story has been cooking in my brain for a while. I had this funeral sequence in my mind, but then it turned out to become something else, and I kind of liked how this turned out. This was written mostly for me, and of course you guys, because I longed for a good, solid ending for our heroes. I truly hope that this does the characters justice.
This snippet is inspired by a song by Keane, Somewhere only we know. This is the brother piece of Outro.
Thanks to everyone who has read, and reviewed since last time. I'm so glad that you like what I'm doing here, and I will update on 31. October. I hope you're ready for some Halloween snippets.
XX
Somewhere Only We Know
The withered leaves cracked under his sneakers as he walked across the grassy lawn. The weather was crisp, and the pale blue sky was clear.
He hadn't been to this place in years, yet nothing had changed at all. The oak tree stood tall and sturdy on the small hill, that one crooked branch was still there, and the wooden bench underneath. The sun shone through the leaves, which had taken glorious shades of yellow, an occasional red leaf peaked through the pallet.
It was a beautiful day, and even he couldn't quite ignore the beauty of the place.
But his heavy mind wasn't set on the beautiful scenery, but on his best friend.
After four months of struggle James Wilson finally gave up the fight and drew his last breath.
He glanced at the clock and realized that the funeral was about to begin. He glanced around, deciding whether he should stay or leave. He wanted nothing more but to leave this place, and go against Wilson's wishes. He wanted to walk his friend to his last resting place. But he had promised him to stay out of the funeral, and that was a wish he couldn't break, even though he couldn't care less about his own safety. The only person that cared about him was dead, and he could just as well rot in jail.
He sighed, and glanced around. Why Wilson had asked him to be there on the day of his funeral was the most puzzling part. Maybe it was just the delirious haze from the drugs, or some sort of sick joke.
He wasn't quite sure why he had picked this place. In fact he didn't know that he knew of it, and the significance it had. Truthfully he had never been too sure of what significance it had until he stepped on its ground again, and realized the truth.
This had been his hideout when Cuddy was looking for him at the hospital. It had the advantage of being in a walking distance from the hospital, and this clearing was the perfect place to think. It had a great view of the lake, and the surrounding trees circled around the hill like a cradle. He could sit on the bench, and just think without anyone interrupting him. That was until Cuddy had found it.
He and Cuddy never had a special place to go to, a place that was theirs alone. When they dated they usually spent their time at the hospital or at her place. They rarely went on special dates, or shared meaningful walks. They didn't have a picnic spot in the local park, nor did they have a favorite hideout from the everyday life. But as he approached the small hill, and the oak tree, he realized that maybe they did have a place after all. If there was any place that was theirs, then this was it.
He sat down on the bench, and pondered over this. Why on earth would Wilson pick this place? He could just as well have picked his old apartment where they had shared many moments together.
But as he thought about this place and the reasons why Wilson wanted him to go there he started to think about a distant memory. A memory he had tried to drown with the rest of his memories of all things Cuddy. But memories weren't drugs, and not nearly as easy to eliminate.
It was the beginning of December, and the earth was frozen under his feet.
He knew that he would find her there. It had become his place of escape, and somehow, with time, hers too.
She sat on the bench her back turned towards him. He knew that she knew of his presence, but she didn't acknowledge him. He sighed, and limped the short distance, and sat down on the opposite end. The bench had a view over the frozen lake. A few people were skating over the frozen area.
He glanced sideways to Cuddy who refused to meet his gaze. He turned his gaze to the skaters. If she wanted to talk to him she would eventually say something.
He heard her sigh subtly, clearly a bit frustrated by his presence, but he ignored it. They sat there in complete silence until she finally broke it.
"I'm a complete failure."
The confession surprised him. She wasn't used to open up like that around him, and stating her obvious failure was not like her at all. She tried so hard to be perfect in everything she did, and it was so unlike her to state the obvious truth. No one was perfect, not even she.
Still he felt the need to comfort her, to somehow make up for his hurtful words.
He moved closer to her, and nudged her with his shoulder.
"You're not a failure Cuddy."
"Yes I am."
"No, you're not."
She inhaled sharply, and closed her eyes painfully.
"Stop pretending that you care."
They both stayed silent after her declaration. She was right. He didn't care.
"Why are you here?" She asked tiredly.
"What are you talking about? This is my place of escape. I'm reclaiming it."
Cuddy rolled her eyes.
"Fine. I'm sorry I stole your place." She muttered sarcastically and stood up.
In a moment of complete insanity he reached out and grasped her hand. She stopped in her tracks, and looked down at their joined hands. Her fingers were cool against his warm skin. Her grey eyes met his blue ones for a split second until he drifted his gaze away.
"I can share." He said fleetingly. She sighed then nodded her head and sank down beside him.
Neither of them said anything. He wasn't sure what to say. He knew that he should apologize.
Why was she making this so hard? She was supposed to continue her talk of failure, and he would apologize. His plan was so simple, only if she would start whining.
When he was getting crazy of their silence he opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't.
Finally she stood up.
"I should go. I need to get stuff done, so…I'll see you at work." She started to walk away, but he wasn't quite ready to let her go.
"You know, this can also be your place. If you want."
She turned around, a little surprised. She smiled knowingly. The smile didn't reach her eyes.
"Thanks."
When she was gone, he slumped back into the bench, and turned his head up.
"Shit."
That had been many years before, and occasionally he would find her by the bench. She would always smile, a bit guiltily, as if she was invading his space. But as the years passed they would sometimes meet there and have lunch, or just talk. It was a simple accommodation, but it worked for them.
For obvious reasons he hadn't been there for about three years.
He glanced at his clock again. The funeral had started.
Well, he had done what Wilson wanted him to do. There was nothing there for him anymore.
House stood up, and turned around but froze in his steps. He felt the great impulse to run away, but he was rooted to the ground. In the clearing by the hovering trees stood a figure of someone he hadn't seen in two years, someone who had been in his thoughts for the majority of that time.
Her eyes were wide, her mouth slightly gaping. He wasn't surprised that she was shocked. He was after all a dead man.
He could only guess that he looked just as perplexed as she did. He had not expected this. Both of them looked at each other observingly. He could see her eyes trace up and down, drinking in the sight of him.
Cuddy hadn't changed much since the last time he saw her, though there were some obvious changes. Her hair was a bit longer, she had ditched the hair straightener, and her locks cascaded in curls down her shoulders. She had also lost a bit of weight, nothing serious, but her cheeks were not as full, and her hips evidentially narrower. But she looked good, a bit frail, but healthy.
"So it's true. You're alive." She breathed, not quite believing the truth.
"Yeah."
"He told me that I would find you here."
"Who…" He started to say, but stopped when he realized the obvious truth.
Even through his grave that meddling bastard had to butt into his business. He didn't know whether he should thank him or not.
Cuddy was his worst nightmare and sweetest dream combined in one clutter that he couldn't sort through.
"What are you doing here?"
She narrowed her eyes, and pursed her lips in clear frustration. She didn't know the answer either.
"Wilson called me, and told me that you were alive. I needed to come here and see for myself."
That wasn't really the answer to his question. He couldn't care less about the prelude of her arrival. He needed to know why she cared. Why she bothered to see him again.
"Why?" He frowned. "Why did you come?"
She opened her mouth, her eyes wide.
"I…I told you. I wanted to know whether it was true…"
"No, Cuddy. Why? Why do you even care?" His voice rose.
Cuddy's eyes widened, and she took a small step backwards. It took him a moment to realize that she was afraid. He ran a hand through his hair frustratingly. He didn't want to scare her, but he was confused, and afraid. He was afraid to experience the same neglect he had experienced when he last saw her, and he needed to protect himself from that.
"Why do you care whether I'm alive?" His eyes searched hers for the answer. "After everything we've been through." He averted his gaze from hers.
"I don't know." Her voice was merely above a whisper.
He looked up. She had taken a few steps closer, her posture was still guarded, but she didn't look afraid anymore.
"All I know is that when I received that phone call that you were dead, I realized that I would never stop caring about you. Even though I know that it's wrong in so many ways, but I guess I will always care."
"You shouldn't." He murmured.
Cuddy was only few steps away from him. He could smell her perfume. He noticed that it was the same she used while they dated.
"No, I shouldn't. You hurt me, more than you could possibly know."
He knew that he had hurt her beyond words, but she had also hurt him. She had broken his heart in two, and
"I know I hurt you too. I hadn't realized how much before you drove a car into my living room." She looked down.
"I guess a part of me wanted to apologize. I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you when you were hurting the most. I'm sorry that I pretended that we could be okay when we weren't." She looked up, and stared into his eyes.
"I'm sorry I broke up with you."
He couldn't believe his ears. He was appalled that she felt the need to apologize to him, when he was the one that had ruined her life, and dragged her into his insanity.
"You shouldn't be apologizing. You did nothing wrong." He said ferociously.
"Yes I did. We both did."
"So you came here to apologize?" He knew just as well as she did that it wasn't the truth.
"No." Her voice was small. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again he could see the glaze in them.
"When Wilson called, and told me that you were dead…" She exhaled; her face was edged with pain, and sorrow.
"I just realized how stupid this was. I thought about every single argument, every useless fight that, in the end, didn't mean anything. It all just disappeared, and I was left with a feeling of such regret."
His heart started to beat faster when he knew in what direction this conversation was heading. He stared at her wide-eyed, completely dumbstruck.
She walked towards him, still achingly far away, yet so close that if he would stretch his hand out he could touch her.
"I have always felt that if there is one thing I didn't do right in my life, is you."
Her hand reached up, and touched his forehead, his cheek, and finally his lips. He closed his eyes, and melted into her touch. He wanted to drown in her touch, to stay there forever, and never come back to the surface.
"Don't."
Her hand froze, and his eyes opened. Her forehead creased in confusion, then pain, which turned into something he could only identify as betrayal.
"I don't deserve your forgiveness. I don't deserve you." He explained.
"Why do you always think that way?" She said angrily.
"You're such an arrogant…argh." She exclaimed. "You never distrust yourself when it comes to your intellect, or medicine, but when it comes to your own happiness you keep locking yourself up. Why can't you just let it go?"
He turned away, and refused to meet her gaze. He wanted to stay with her forever, to just forget the things that happened between them in the past. How he wished he could just erase the past and start anew. But it was too late.
"I'm sorry Cuddy." He murmured, and this time he truly was sorry.
"So, that's it?" Her disappointment did not go unnoticed.
"You deserve so much better than me." He refused to look at her when he spoke.
"So much more."
"House, please look at me." Her voice was firm, commanding. It reminded him of the old days. He obliged and saw the familiar stubbornness on her face, the set jaw, and the clenched lips.
"I know that you're hurting, and I know that you probably don't want anything to do with me."
He opened his mouth to protest but she raised a finger in silence.
"I'm not finished. We both hurt each other, and yes, your supposed death was a revelation for me. I thought I hated you. I wanted to hate you so much." She said angrily, and then her face softened.
"But I realized that I was still in love with you, that I would always be in love with you."
He didn't say anything. Cuddy looked at him with a mixture of hope and anxiety. He was battling the same demons. Here she was giving herself to him, and still he felt so unsure.
They had so much history. So many moments filled with frustration, and love.
"Please say something." She said pleadingly.
He closed his eyes for a moment, and tried to think of every reason not to do what he was about to do. But as he thought more about it the more it felt like the right decision to make.
He looked at her, and closed the small gap between them, grasped her face between his hands and crashed his lips against hers. She wove her arms around him and kissed him eagerly. They melted into each other, and sought the comfort of each other's touch. He hadn't felt so complete in years.
At that moment he realized why Wilson wanted him to visit that place again. He was giving him a second chance.
They didn't stop until they were out of air. They rested their foreheads against each other.
Millions of thoughts raced through his mind. He wanted to make this work. He could feel it, but he also didn't want to get hurt, and he definitely didn't want to hurt her.
"I can't promise that I'll change." He muttered against her neck.
"I don't expect you to. Not this time. Not ever." She whispered.
"It won't be that easy."
"No it won't. We'll just start slowly." She promised.
"I don't know about that." He said and kissed her neck.
"Not that slowly." She smiled.
"Then what do you want? I'm still a dead man."
"Let's run away."
"Hmm, I like the sound of that."
She smiled at him, and took his hand.
He couldn't help but feel doubt. Was it so easy? Could it be so simple?
He could almost hear Wilson's voice in his head. Don't blow it. He made a silent promise to him that he wouldn't. Not this time.
He grasped her hand and together they walked away from their place, both hopeful that this time they could make things work.