A knock sounded on his door. Another headache to come along, he breathed it out, and just ignored the elevating raps.
"House--" Cuddy had muffled from outside.
"we need to talk." she continued with not only seriousness, but a deeper concern within her tone.
"It's open." he almost whispered. Apparently hearing him, the handle twisted and opened the door. Cuddy slightly launched herself back with surprise, taken aback at the sight of House.
"We need to admit you."
"I'm fine."
"You've been throwing up for hours straight. You've had constant headaches, your eyes are always bloodshot every time I walk through that door. You need treatment."
"I need silence."
"All the aforementioned means its just getting worse."
"The pain, or the death sentence?" he asked with sarcasm. She just stared at him blankly, unsure really of what to do with him.
A month prior, House had been diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. Ever since then, he's refused treatment, and remained at his post. Everyone else furiously insisted otherwise, but no matter what they said or do--it could not affect him.
"Enough is never enough." he finally said to her. Not daring to look at him back, she walked over and sat with him on the couch. But then she began to examine him. Checking his heart rate, pulse, his temperature--everything. He had a cold sweat splattered upon his face, condensing into droplets. Sliding off her jacket and tossing her shoes to the side, she got up off the couch, and gathered things from the kitchen and his bathroom. She had towels, a bucket or waste basket of some kind, and blankets.
"Wilson."
"Your own assumption." she stated, fixing him under the blankets.
"I've been like this for days, maybe weeks. If it was under your own will, you would've done this, particularly sooner instead of just visiting. Jimmy wants a follow up." she lifted his feet up, allowing herself to be seated on the couch with him.
"We both share the same concerns. I was just brave enough to follow through."
"Nice." he spoke quietly.
"Rest." she said dominantly.
"You woke me up in the first place." he grouched. He turned on the couch as she went for the remote, and began watching "Sleepless in Seattle".
"Oh you've got to be kidding me." he uttered through the couch.
"You're asleep, and I'm watching."
"God,the pure--" she flipped the remote, and the television turned off.
"That easy?" he asked her, as he lifted his face from the pillows.
"Whatever it takes you to shut up, yeah." she paused for a moment, before continuing with a question.
"'Enough is never enough'?"
"You are a crappy doctor." he stated sarcastically, readjusting himself into an upright position. Realizing what she had quoted him on, he hesitated a little.
"You don't know what I meant?"
"I'm hoping I misunderstood."
"You didn't." he said quickly. "everything when enough, isn't enough. Which category does that most occur--pain. As if I wanted so much more." remaining silent, she just rubbed his calf up and down with her soft hand. The other, rested underneath his on his stomach, after he laid back again.
"I can't admit myself."
"When did we get back there?" she asked with surprise.
"It's what would come next." hesitating to answer, unsure of it herself, she just spat it out.
"If you aren't going to be there--I'll be here."
"Oh God, here we go." he lifted his legs off of her, and began to walk around. She remained stationary on the couch.
"I don't need you." He argued from across the room.
"this change of scenery, justifies your emotions toward me. Which is why you not only feel obligated to stay, but because you think it's your job." she got off the couch. Voices raised.
"It is a job. Part of my job. Something I've been willing to take. It's not easy--it never is, never will be. But I carry on with it anyway because I care about you. We all do."
"Then stop treating me like I've changed. The way you talk, look at me--body language. Nothing's changed."
"EVERYTHING'S changed!" she got up closer to him, almost lip to lip. She began to whisper, but very aggressively. "you think you can make things okay by rationalizing everything. Emotions are irrational. Dying involves emotion, it involves change. You have to accept the difference. You should expect us to be devastated. To feel loss. To be angry." holding off on a reply, he glared deep into her eyes, like he was searching.
"Why, should you be angry." he asked. Shocked at his retort, she just ignored it, and continued her rant.
"Dying will be irrational in some way whether you like it or not. Knowing death, isn't easy. A lot of things aren't easy."
"Define easy." he spoke quietly to her.
"This." leaning in, to barely catch his lips, the warm met the cold, causing energy.
"Out of all things--this isn't easy." he started at her.
"Because. Of. What."
"Enough is never enough. We can't. You can't."
"I'm tired of waiting for enough to finally be enough." She then rekindled the energy, creating flames--everywhere.
---
Keeping his head on her chest as they laid on the floor, she pet him slowly. With him fast asleep, she made gentle whispers over and over in his ear.
"This is enough, House. For us this is always enough."
"House--" Cuddy had muffled from outside.
"we need to talk." she continued with not only seriousness, but a deeper concern within her tone.
"It's open." he almost whispered. Apparently hearing him, the handle twisted and opened the door. Cuddy slightly launched herself back with surprise, taken aback at the sight of House.
"We need to admit you."
"I'm fine."
"You've been throwing up for hours straight. You've had constant headaches, your eyes are always bloodshot every time I walk through that door. You need treatment."
"I need silence."
"All the aforementioned means its just getting worse."
"The pain, or the death sentence?" he asked with sarcasm. She just stared at him blankly, unsure really of what to do with him.
A month prior, House had been diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. Ever since then, he's refused treatment, and remained at his post. Everyone else furiously insisted otherwise, but no matter what they said or do--it could not affect him.
"Enough is never enough." he finally said to her. Not daring to look at him back, she walked over and sat with him on the couch. But then she began to examine him. Checking his heart rate, pulse, his temperature--everything. He had a cold sweat splattered upon his face, condensing into droplets. Sliding off her jacket and tossing her shoes to the side, she got up off the couch, and gathered things from the kitchen and his bathroom. She had towels, a bucket or waste basket of some kind, and blankets.
"Wilson."
"Your own assumption." she stated, fixing him under the blankets.
"I've been like this for days, maybe weeks. If it was under your own will, you would've done this, particularly sooner instead of just visiting. Jimmy wants a follow up." she lifted his feet up, allowing herself to be seated on the couch with him.
"We both share the same concerns. I was just brave enough to follow through."
"Nice." he spoke quietly.
"Rest." she said dominantly.
"You woke me up in the first place." he grouched. He turned on the couch as she went for the remote, and began watching "Sleepless in Seattle".
"Oh you've got to be kidding me." he uttered through the couch.
"You're asleep, and I'm watching."
"God,the pure--" she flipped the remote, and the television turned off.
"That easy?" he asked her, as he lifted his face from the pillows.
"Whatever it takes you to shut up, yeah." she paused for a moment, before continuing with a question.
"'Enough is never enough'?"
"You are a crappy doctor." he stated sarcastically, readjusting himself into an upright position. Realizing what she had quoted him on, he hesitated a little.
"You don't know what I meant?"
"I'm hoping I misunderstood."
"You didn't." he said quickly. "everything when enough, isn't enough. Which category does that most occur--pain. As if I wanted so much more." remaining silent, she just rubbed his calf up and down with her soft hand. The other, rested underneath his on his stomach, after he laid back again.
"I can't admit myself."
"When did we get back there?" she asked with surprise.
"It's what would come next." hesitating to answer, unsure of it herself, she just spat it out.
"If you aren't going to be there--I'll be here."
"Oh God, here we go." he lifted his legs off of her, and began to walk around. She remained stationary on the couch.
"I don't need you." He argued from across the room.
"this change of scenery, justifies your emotions toward me. Which is why you not only feel obligated to stay, but because you think it's your job." she got off the couch. Voices raised.
"It is a job. Part of my job. Something I've been willing to take. It's not easy--it never is, never will be. But I carry on with it anyway because I care about you. We all do."
"Then stop treating me like I've changed. The way you talk, look at me--body language. Nothing's changed."
"EVERYTHING'S changed!" she got up closer to him, almost lip to lip. She began to whisper, but very aggressively. "you think you can make things okay by rationalizing everything. Emotions are irrational. Dying involves emotion, it involves change. You have to accept the difference. You should expect us to be devastated. To feel loss. To be angry." holding off on a reply, he glared deep into her eyes, like he was searching.
"Why, should you be angry." he asked. Shocked at his retort, she just ignored it, and continued her rant.
"Dying will be irrational in some way whether you like it or not. Knowing death, isn't easy. A lot of things aren't easy."
"Define easy." he spoke quietly to her.
"This." leaning in, to barely catch his lips, the warm met the cold, causing energy.
"Out of all things--this isn't easy." he started at her.
"Because. Of. What."
"Enough is never enough. We can't. You can't."
"I'm tired of waiting for enough to finally be enough." She then rekindled the energy, creating flames--everywhere.
---
Keeping his head on her chest as they laid on the floor, she pet him slowly. With him fast asleep, she made gentle whispers over and over in his ear.
"This is enough, House. For us this is always enough."
