![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: Promise
Pairing: House+Wilson, House+/Cuddy, Wilson/Amber
Author: [Unknown site tag]alanwolfmoon
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: spoilers for Head&Heart. Mega sad.
Summary: A continuation of Always Conditional. Cuddy takes House home (her home), and they talk.
Disclaimer: MINE! ALL MINE!....uh, no. Not mine.
Feedback: Reviews and flames are welcome. (They make it look like I'm writing fast)
Notes: sad, angst, crying. somehow really sweet though, too. At the end.
Pairing: House+Wilson, House+/Cuddy, Wilson/Amber
Author: [Unknown site tag]alanwolfmoon
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: spoilers for Head&Heart. Mega sad.
Summary: A continuation of Always Conditional. Cuddy takes House home (her home), and they talk.
Disclaimer: MINE! ALL MINE!....uh, no. Not mine.
Feedback: Reviews and flames are welcome. (They make it look like I'm writing fast)
Notes: sad, angst, crying. somehow really sweet though, too. At the end.
T
House sniffed, feeling completely ashamed for it, as he lay on her bed, curled against her.
She didn't seem to think that he didn't deserve to let it out, though, so he continued his guilty crying.
Cuddy gently ran her hand through his hair, shh-ing him, and telling him that it would be alright, even though they both knew it wouldn't be.
“What did you see?” she asked after a while, with the inward intention of getting him to think of something besides the pain, but outwardly simply curious, “you wouldn't have let just anyone have him.”
House looked at her, sniffing.
He opened his phone with two hands, showing her a picture of a picture.
She took the phone, looking at the image it displayed.
“I'm sorry, I don't....”
He opened his wallet, the only place she knew he kept any pictures of anyone. He had told her once that the only reason to have a picture of someone was if looking at it made you happy, or less lonely. There had been a picture of Stacy in there for a long, long time. But she had seen it in his trash can the morning after he had sent her away. She knew, simply, that the photos in his wallet were the people he had let inside himself. Let himself care for and take comfort from.
The first was of Wilson, but he flipped quickly past that one, and showed her a photo of himself and his mother when he was a child. There was a large hand resting on his shoulder from somewhere to his right, but the person it belonged to wasn't visible.
He was cringing away from that hand, the same sort of look in his eyes...
She looked at him. She knew his history with his father, from back when they had been at Michigan.
He was looking away.
Cuddy bit her lip, gently touching the side of his face.
“Only you would notice that from an old photograph you weren't even supposed to have. Only you would give up the only thing that ever made you happy based on something you saw in that photograph. Only you would be at the same time that logical and that foolish. Her turn, that was what was going through your head. I'm not going to be selfish. I'm going to let her have her turn because she deserves it as much as me.”
He closed his eyes, and she knew she had hit right on the mark.
People told her that House was to complex for them to understand, but she knew it wasn't that. It was that he hadn't grown emotionally or morally since he was eight. If she told anyone that, it wouldn't sound right, though. Because it seemed to say that he didn't have any morals, which wasn't true. He was obsessed with doing the right thing, he understood about loyalty, and pain, and happiness and honor. And he was so cynical because the rest of the world brushed those aside, and he didn't know how to function with other people without them. He didn't know a level of openness between shutting a person out and baring his soul, he just wasn't built for that. She knew he was frozen between knowing that love was good and hurting was bad, and that the person who loved him also hurt him. She knew he could never understand that.
She knew that, if he hadn't let her in before, he probably never would. She just hoped she could help him anyway.
Cuddy sighed, starting to close the wallet. As she did, the picture pages fell open to the third and only other photograph in them. A tattered, wrinkled, spilled-on, ancient copy of her college yearbook picture.
She looked at him.
He wasn't looking at the wallet.
She closed it, heat tingling in her eyes.
She had given him that photograph twenty years ago.
Jokingly.
She had said it would give him something to fantasize about, with a laugh and a smile.
Maybe it had, just not in the way she had meant.
Maybe he had been thinking of that, when he had told her they made him a little less sad.
Maybe the real thing could do that even better.
“House,” she said, voice as low at it ever went.
He looked at her.
“I promise you, that you will get through this. You will be ok again. Life will not always be this bad. I promise you that.”
He closed his eyes, was silent for a long, long time.
Then he nodded.
He sniffed.
“Thank you, Cuddy.”
She nodded, gently pressing her lips to his forehead.
“I promise.”
House sniffed, feeling completely ashamed for it, as he lay on her bed, curled against her.
She didn't seem to think that he didn't deserve to let it out, though, so he continued his guilty crying.
Cuddy gently ran her hand through his hair, shh-ing him, and telling him that it would be alright, even though they both knew it wouldn't be.
“What did you see?” she asked after a while, with the inward intention of getting him to think of something besides the pain, but outwardly simply curious, “you wouldn't have let just anyone have him.”
House looked at her, sniffing.
He opened his phone with two hands, showing her a picture of a picture.
She took the phone, looking at the image it displayed.
“I'm sorry, I don't....”
He opened his wallet, the only place she knew he kept any pictures of anyone. He had told her once that the only reason to have a picture of someone was if looking at it made you happy, or less lonely. There had been a picture of Stacy in there for a long, long time. But she had seen it in his trash can the morning after he had sent her away. She knew, simply, that the photos in his wallet were the people he had let inside himself. Let himself care for and take comfort from.
The first was of Wilson, but he flipped quickly past that one, and showed her a photo of himself and his mother when he was a child. There was a large hand resting on his shoulder from somewhere to his right, but the person it belonged to wasn't visible.
He was cringing away from that hand, the same sort of look in his eyes...
She looked at him. She knew his history with his father, from back when they had been at Michigan.
He was looking away.
Cuddy bit her lip, gently touching the side of his face.
“Only you would notice that from an old photograph you weren't even supposed to have. Only you would give up the only thing that ever made you happy based on something you saw in that photograph. Only you would be at the same time that logical and that foolish. Her turn, that was what was going through your head. I'm not going to be selfish. I'm going to let her have her turn because she deserves it as much as me.”
He closed his eyes, and she knew she had hit right on the mark.
People told her that House was to complex for them to understand, but she knew it wasn't that. It was that he hadn't grown emotionally or morally since he was eight. If she told anyone that, it wouldn't sound right, though. Because it seemed to say that he didn't have any morals, which wasn't true. He was obsessed with doing the right thing, he understood about loyalty, and pain, and happiness and honor. And he was so cynical because the rest of the world brushed those aside, and he didn't know how to function with other people without them. He didn't know a level of openness between shutting a person out and baring his soul, he just wasn't built for that. She knew he was frozen between knowing that love was good and hurting was bad, and that the person who loved him also hurt him. She knew he could never understand that.
She knew that, if he hadn't let her in before, he probably never would. She just hoped she could help him anyway.
Cuddy sighed, starting to close the wallet. As she did, the picture pages fell open to the third and only other photograph in them. A tattered, wrinkled, spilled-on, ancient copy of her college yearbook picture.
She looked at him.
He wasn't looking at the wallet.
She closed it, heat tingling in her eyes.
She had given him that photograph twenty years ago.
Jokingly.
She had said it would give him something to fantasize about, with a laugh and a smile.
Maybe it had, just not in the way she had meant.
Maybe he had been thinking of that, when he had told her they made him a little less sad.
Maybe the real thing could do that even better.
“House,” she said, voice as low at it ever went.
He looked at her.
“I promise you, that you will get through this. You will be ok again. Life will not always be this bad. I promise you that.”
He closed his eyes, was silent for a long, long time.
Then he nodded.
He sniffed.
“Thank you, Cuddy.”
She nodded, gently pressing her lips to his forehead.
“I promise.”
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Very wonderful, very moving.
Love it.
*mems*
*goes off to find tissues*
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