rubyjuly: (red motorcycle/house)
[personal profile] rubyjuly
Title: Lifeline
Author: [livejournal.com profile] rubyjuly
Fandom: House M.D.
Genre, rating & warning: Rated R for sexual reference and language. This is based on a video released by Fox for the upcoming episode and should be considered spoilery. House/Cuddy, ghost Amber.
Summary: She chose you, the you that she knows.
Word count: 500
Disclaimer: Anybody you recognize here does not belong to me.



Cuddy’s there because she always is, and while she’s talking you don’t have to focus on that yammering bitch who’s become the woofer and tweeter for your subconscious.

When Cuddy asks if you want to kiss her, there’s enough time in the second of silence between what she said and what you want to say for you to hear, “She wants it bad. She’ll do anything for us” come from the corner by the piano.

It’s a good thing there’s a six-foot-long piece of furniture between the bitch and you because at any moment you just might shove that piano straight through her and into the wall to get her to shut the fuck up.

The bitch knows this; you can feel her smirking. But you know something else, something that’s breaking what’s left of your heart: It’s not “us” Cuddy wants.

You see that as you look down into those wide blue eyes. She’s like porcelain over steel, so beautiful, tough, and practical. Somehow long ago, she chose you, the you she knows, not that seething collection of evil and depravity that’s kept you awake for so long that you’re thinking about swallowing every damned pill in the medicine cabinet just so you’ll get some kind of peace.

“You want peace, House? Tear off a piece of that. Get a nice post-coital nap in. I’ll be right here waiting,” the bitch says, and you drag up everything you have left to shut her out. La, la, la, not listening to you, you think, and for once she doesn’t have a smart-ass comeback.

Cuddy’s standing so close you can count every freckle across her nose and every black brushmark of her eyelashes against her pale skin. In the silence, you think you can almost hear her pulse, beating like a bird’s wing under the collar of her jacket.

She’s waiting, listening for you with every cell in her body. And you know now all this started when you stopped listening, with trying to deny everything that was human in yourself and good in everyone around you because it all hurt so much.

But maybe it’s not too late to stop this, to save yourself before you’re torn apart by the warfare insomnia, Vicodin, Ambien, caffeine and Scotch are waging in your brain. Maybe all it takes is telling her the truth, showing her what’s locked away in the back of your heart.

It’s like hauling junk up off the bottom of the sea bed, but you find the words and use that other voice, the one that contains all the kindness and love and happiness you’ve ever known, the one that almost never speaks, and you tell her “yes.”

She can’t save you, but she can do what she’s done so many times before and keep you from drowning long enough for you to save yourself. In this quiet space, you reach out for her, and you kiss her like she’s the last breath of life you’ll ever have.

~ Finis
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rubyjuly

July 2012

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