6.
Arlene was standing alone when she saw House limp by, heading for the front door. She stepped into the hallway and grabbed his arm.
"Let me go," he said, a desperate edge to his voice.
His desperation was infectious. Arlene's voice caught it as well.
"What happened?"
House resolutely faced forward. But Arlene did not fail to notice the tears that had started in his eyes, nor the grief that strangled his throat as he said, "This is what she wants. This is her dream, not mine. I can't take that away from her, not when she loves the dream more than anything. More than . . . she ever loved me."
Arlene stood rooted to the spot, staring at House in amazement. Gregory House was stepping aside for her daughter. He was willingly placing himself on the altar of self sacrifice in order for Lisa to be happy, giving up his own dream so that she could have hers.
And the depth of love that it took for him to do this for Lisa fairly astounded Arlene.
House flicked his eyes to hers. The raw emotion and pain she saw there made her catch her breath.
"Greg . . . you can't just give up like this. Not when you . . . you can't do this!"
"It's done. Now let me go."
Arlene's hand slid from his arm, grudgingly relinquishing her hold on him.
"House!"
House limped quickly down the steps and well out into the front yard, feigning a sudden onslaught of deafness. He recognized that voice and the last thing he wanted right now was yet another altercation. He just wanted to climb onto his bike and go the hell home.
"House, you can't outrun me."
With a sigh of resignation, House turned to face his usurper. Lucas walked right up to House, only stopping when he came to within several inches of him. For a few seconds, the two men stared at each other, sizing each other up.
True to form, it was House who decided to break the stalemate.
"I can't outrun you but I can outlast you. I'm not good on the sprints but I'm hell over long distances."
"What are you doing here?" Lucas asked, already guessing the answer. House didn't realize it, but he'd missed a bit of lipstick in the corner of his mouth. It was Lisa's color.
"Just came to kiss the bride. Remind her what she'd be missing."
Lucas had always liked House; his wit, his sarcasm, his ability to use humor to deflect or defuse a situation. He'd also always respected the quality for which House was probably best known and had once again, just this moment, clearly displayed; House's unapologetic honesty.
Lucas smiled. He thoroughly realized as he stood there that he owed a debt of gratitude to House. If it hadn't been for Greg House, he'd never have met his fiancé, Lisa Cuddy. Of course, House had also stolen her away last year but he'd obviously screwed up badly enough with Lisa to send her running back to his arms.
So in a way, he was doubly indebted to House. First, for screwing up and allowing him to get to Lisa and secondly, for screwing up his relationship with her, thus returning Lisa to him in the end.
But even though these debts remained unpaid, other, more sinister feelings toward House had come to the forefront of his mind.
For Lucas Douglas was nothing if not a jealous man. And while he would never blame Lisa for her little slip, as he referred to it, last year, the full brunt of culpability was, in his mind, borne entirely by House.
So for the unconscionable act of stealing Lisa away from him in the first place, Lucas felt it was high time for a little payback. House needed a good, solid lesson, a little reminder of who the man Lisa belonged to now and forever really was.
"A kiss? Is that all?" Lucas asked, trying to sound nonplussed.
"Well, since she wasn't offering anything else, I'd have to say yes."
"Look House . . ."
House had reached the limits of his patience. His head still hurt him, his leg felt like it was being roasted on a spit and his heart ached within his chest. He wanted to get the hell out of there. Badly.
"No, you look. I admit I came here with ill intent. But I changed my mind. Cuddy's marrying you. And I just wanna get home. Okay? You've won. Can I go now? Huh, huh? Pretty please?"
"Nothing happened?"
"I already told you. I kissed your fiancé. But she's marrying you. She's chosen you."
Lucas stared at House and then nodded, extending his hand.
"No hard feelings then House?"
House eyed Lucas' outstretched palm like it was a poisonous adder.
"Don't push your luck, huh Lucas? I'm admitting defeat. But I don't have to be happy about it. Now go back inside and get hitched to your ball and chain."
House turned and began limping away. He had not gone two paces and was leaning his full weight on his cane when Lucas moved swiftly up behind him. He simultaneously shoved House in the back as his right leg swept the cane out from underneath his crippled adversary.
Already off balance, House went down hard. He felt Lucas throw himself into his body as both men fell to the ground, rolling over and over each other. The force of their momentum slammed House into the sidewalk, knocking the wind out of him and momentarily stunning him.
When they finally stopped their tumbling, Lucas was kneeling on top of House's prone form, steadying himself with his right leg planted squarely against House's chest. At the same time, he used the bones of his left knee to mercilessly thrust into House's already throbbing right thigh.
House screamed. But once more, Lucas had anticipated him.
Lucas had already cruelly forced his hands over House's mouth, not only completely muffling the sound of his cry but also denying him the oxygen necessary to mount a concerted counterattack.
Lights began popping in House's vision like so many flashbulbs while the pain filtered through to him in waves, each more agonizing than the last. He flailed his arms helplessly at his attacker, attempting to dislodge him but the physical torture he was experiencing and the lack of oxygen made him repeatedly miss his mark. Sweat beaded on his forehead and the tears streamed from his eyes as blissful unconsciousness beckoned to him.
"Can you hear me House? Stop screaming and listen to me you arrogant ass." As he spoke, Lucas eased up ever so slightly on House's leg and mouth. House began moaning in between desperate, large gulps of air.
"Shut up!" Lucas bent low over House's ear. "Don't you ever, EVER come anywhere near my wife again. Understand?"
House could do nothing but continue to moan and attempt to push and slap his assailant, all the while fighting both the nausea and unconsciousness that threatened to overwhelm him.
"I said do you understand? Nod you son-of-a-bitch!" Lucas began grinding his kneecap into House's thigh muscle once more.
House gasped and opened his mouth to scream again but this time, no sound whatsoever came out.
"Nod damn you!"
House kept up his silent screaming. His eyes rolled over white in his head and foam flecked from the sides of his mouth, while Lucas kept up his sadistic pressure. At last, close to blacking out, House nodded once.
"Good, then we understand each other."
Lucas kept his hands over House's mouth as House inhaled again and gave out one last, primal, keening wail that didn't seem like it was within the vocal range of a human being.
When he was relatively quiet again, Lucas pushed away from his writhing victim and stood up in one, smooth action. House rolled onto his side where he laid panting and moaning, his body twitching with aftershocks of unspeakable pain.
Not yet content with his handiwork and in an effort to drive the point fully home, Lucas drew back his foot and kicked House solidly in his right side. A faint crunching sound reached his ears as House's ribs gave way. Lucas allowed a small, satisfied smile to crease his features.
As House automatically curled inward to protect his body, Lucas kicked him again, this time connecting with the exposed right side of House's face. Finally pleased with the proof of his superiority, Lucas spit on the curled up form of House and left him there, a whimpering ball on the grass of Cuddy's front yard.
House held back on the worst of it until he heard Lucas' retreating footsteps. As soon as he was out of earshot, House rolled back and forth, clutching at himself, at his right leg, his ribs, his head. The heat of his body and the tumult of his stomach became overpowering and he was just able to pull himself up in time to vomit into Cuddy's front flowerbed.
He stayed on all fours heaving, tasting his own blood and vomit, for quite some time, or at least it felt that way. Music began to drift toward his rebellious eardrums. The ceremony was about to start.
Still on all fours, House turned to grope almost blindly for his fallen cane, eventually retrieving it from amongst the low hedges. Taking several gasps of air which his injured ribs made even more excruciating, he readied himself for the torturous climb back to his feet.
He shook himself, staving off the dizziness and unsteady feeling in his brain and limbs. Closing his eyes and leaning heavily against both his cane and a small tree, House painfully hoisted himself back to his feet with a grunt and much continued panting.
Once he stood, albeit unsteadily, on his feet, House slowly opened his eyes. There, looking out from behind the curtains of the front bay window stood Julie, a look of utter shock and revulsion written across her features.
House's gaze met hers for a timeless moment. And then he closed his eyes.
By the time House opened his eyes again, Julie was gone.