FF: Moments
Title: Moments
Author: Ellie
Rating: PG
Summary: “Lisa remembers her grandfather pointing out stars while her grandmother spoke of Baroque architecture.”
Cuddy in twelve 100-word drabbles (with a bit of House/Cuddy)
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---
The salty breeze whistled through her curls as she ran across the hot sand, stumbling as it deepened unexpectedly. She tumbled and fell beside her father’s chair and immediately felt the temperature change under the umbrella.
He stared down at her as the breeze fluttered the pages of his thick book. “Having fun, honey?”
“Will you come built sandcastles with Becky and me?”
“You’re both in luck. I was just reading about castles. Let’s go build Carcassonne.” He dropped the book and his glasses and swooped her up in his arms, carrying her down to the shore as she giggled.
---
With her grades, scores, and Student Government, she knew acceptance anywhere wouldn’t be a problem. But exactly where she wanted to go was a big question. Her father’s tenure would have given her free tuition, but she didn’t want to stay in the northeast. College should be about experiencing the world, both parents had said, so she planned to go away.
That still left a half-page list of possible colleges, and she couldn’t apply everywhere. With a sigh, she cross-referenced her list with the country’s best medical schools, and started to make a pile of applications to be filled out.
---
When she slipped into the smoky bar with girlfriends, it was classier than she expected a fake ID to earn, with a mahogany wood bar and a jazzy band on a small stage. The price of drinks was commensurate with the atmosphere, so they ordered one apiece and found a table.
From that vantage point, she noticed something familiar about the pianist. When the song finished as she reached for a cigarette, she caught the flashing blue eyes, which gave her a wink and once-over, before launching into the next piece.
She knew she’d hear from him in Organic tomorrow.
---
She’d wished the graduation could be outside, the way her high school’s had been. But when the day had dawned with stormy gray skies, she was happy to spend it inside.
Finishing second in her class wasn’t quite the achievement she’d wished for, but it was good enough to set her on the right track for the future. Her advisors assured her there was a bright one ahead of her, because she had the sense of politics the valedictorian lacked.
She beamed as she accepted her diploma, eyes scanning the crowed for her parents, who were clapping and snapping photos.
---
At school, they’d drilled the idea of professional attire into all the students’ heads. Like everything else, she’d listened carefully, taken notes, worn sensible shoes.
But in her new role, the old rules no longer applied. It wasn’t about being on her feet for eighteen hours, it was about impressing donors and putting a chic face on the hospital.
When she tottered out the door in a charcoal skirt and black stilettos on her first day as Dean, she paused and took a moment to think longingly of her worn Danskos and soft pink scrubs sitting in her dark closet.
---
Her grandparents fled their home seeking asylum, and her grandfather found it under Oppenheimer in the arid expanse of New Mexico. The ranches and quiet and liberty were a world away from the Spanish Riding School and Mozart and Hitler.
Her grandmother’s tales of the civilized world sent her mother east for college, only occasionally bringing grandchildren back to visit. Lisa remembers her grandfather pointing out stars while her grandmother spoke of Baroque architecture.
Two weeks after becoming Dean, she received a note in her grandfather’s shaky script, congratulating her on a position at the same school where Einstein taught.
---
House is barely through surgery, still unconscious, when she got a call from her mother. While she saved House’s leg, her grandfather’s life slipped away.
It drove her up to the roof, where she’s alone in braving the chilly April evening. There’s so much light here that she’s barely able to make out Orion, sinking with the season.
She tried to pretend that the blurring of Rigel before her eyes was a trick of the clouds and its fluctuating light, but she knows neither man in her thoughts would buy that excuse, which only seemed to make it blur more.
---
Everything at Princeton-Plainsboro was glass. It made watching easier, and she watched Stacy argue with House. Since he’d woken from surgery, he’d done nothing but verbally abuse everyone who entered the room, her and Stacy most of all. This was the first time she’d seen them talking rather than yelling.
Though by the look on Stacy’s face, and the way she was wiping at tears, screaming might have been kinder. When Stacy left, she stood staring at the man in the room, feigning sleep. She wished there was something she could say, but mere words could not fix the damage.
---
She couldn’t answer Vogler’s charge of past indiscretions with House, because there was no way to do so. It depended on your definition of “sex” and the meaning of “is” and she wasn’t so sure of those answers her self.
The question was not any easier to answer when Cameron raised it, albeit with slightly more subtlety. Most days she couldn’t even say they were friends, and there had never been a relationship.
But while she could never quite say yes, it would have been just as much of a lie for her to say no. She kept her secrets.
---
When House’s request for Ketamine was passed on to her, she wasn’t sure how to react. They had discussed it already, and had decided it was too risky. None of his fellows could have known that, so she had to consider it. As he lay bleeding, other factors far outweighed the risks.
She weighed the odds as she made her way to surgery. Scrubbing in, she did the mental calculations, and when she stepped into the OR, she quietly took Hulse aside and discussed the additional anesthesia.
As House went under, she crossed her fingers then picked up a scalpel.
---
It wasn’t as startling as it should have been when he showed up at her window in the middle of the night, dripping wet and spouting off more ideas. He’d always been a night owl, and always had more answers than questions.
How good he looked doing it all, while standing in the middle of her flowerbed, that was what struck her. She hadn’t seen him this happy in years, with the vibrancy practically radiating off him. He’d been a fun man, but never a happy one, had never been like this before.
Pleased, she smiled as he jogged away.
---
Happiness was about moments, not about a state of being. She was slowly making her peace with that as things crumbled around her and she had to take what little solace where it could be found.
One donor’s early Christmas gift, one failed fertility treatment.
Another patient cured, another prescription filled for House.
She tried to keep track of all the pieces as things broke down, in hopes of being able to put them back together again in something half as beautiful as the original. The effort was exhausting, but she refused to believe things would go on like this.
---
----
End
Author: Ellie
Rating: PG
Summary: “Lisa remembers her grandfather pointing out stars while her grandmother spoke of Baroque architecture.”
Cuddy in twelve 100-word drabbles (with a bit of House/Cuddy)
----
---
The salty breeze whistled through her curls as she ran across the hot sand, stumbling as it deepened unexpectedly. She tumbled and fell beside her father’s chair and immediately felt the temperature change under the umbrella.
He stared down at her as the breeze fluttered the pages of his thick book. “Having fun, honey?”
“Will you come built sandcastles with Becky and me?”
“You’re both in luck. I was just reading about castles. Let’s go build Carcassonne.” He dropped the book and his glasses and swooped her up in his arms, carrying her down to the shore as she giggled.
---
With her grades, scores, and Student Government, she knew acceptance anywhere wouldn’t be a problem. But exactly where she wanted to go was a big question. Her father’s tenure would have given her free tuition, but she didn’t want to stay in the northeast. College should be about experiencing the world, both parents had said, so she planned to go away.
That still left a half-page list of possible colleges, and she couldn’t apply everywhere. With a sigh, she cross-referenced her list with the country’s best medical schools, and started to make a pile of applications to be filled out.
---
When she slipped into the smoky bar with girlfriends, it was classier than she expected a fake ID to earn, with a mahogany wood bar and a jazzy band on a small stage. The price of drinks was commensurate with the atmosphere, so they ordered one apiece and found a table.
From that vantage point, she noticed something familiar about the pianist. When the song finished as she reached for a cigarette, she caught the flashing blue eyes, which gave her a wink and once-over, before launching into the next piece.
She knew she’d hear from him in Organic tomorrow.
---
She’d wished the graduation could be outside, the way her high school’s had been. But when the day had dawned with stormy gray skies, she was happy to spend it inside.
Finishing second in her class wasn’t quite the achievement she’d wished for, but it was good enough to set her on the right track for the future. Her advisors assured her there was a bright one ahead of her, because she had the sense of politics the valedictorian lacked.
She beamed as she accepted her diploma, eyes scanning the crowed for her parents, who were clapping and snapping photos.
---
At school, they’d drilled the idea of professional attire into all the students’ heads. Like everything else, she’d listened carefully, taken notes, worn sensible shoes.
But in her new role, the old rules no longer applied. It wasn’t about being on her feet for eighteen hours, it was about impressing donors and putting a chic face on the hospital.
When she tottered out the door in a charcoal skirt and black stilettos on her first day as Dean, she paused and took a moment to think longingly of her worn Danskos and soft pink scrubs sitting in her dark closet.
---
Her grandparents fled their home seeking asylum, and her grandfather found it under Oppenheimer in the arid expanse of New Mexico. The ranches and quiet and liberty were a world away from the Spanish Riding School and Mozart and Hitler.
Her grandmother’s tales of the civilized world sent her mother east for college, only occasionally bringing grandchildren back to visit. Lisa remembers her grandfather pointing out stars while her grandmother spoke of Baroque architecture.
Two weeks after becoming Dean, she received a note in her grandfather’s shaky script, congratulating her on a position at the same school where Einstein taught.
---
House is barely through surgery, still unconscious, when she got a call from her mother. While she saved House’s leg, her grandfather’s life slipped away.
It drove her up to the roof, where she’s alone in braving the chilly April evening. There’s so much light here that she’s barely able to make out Orion, sinking with the season.
She tried to pretend that the blurring of Rigel before her eyes was a trick of the clouds and its fluctuating light, but she knows neither man in her thoughts would buy that excuse, which only seemed to make it blur more.
---
Everything at Princeton-Plainsboro was glass. It made watching easier, and she watched Stacy argue with House. Since he’d woken from surgery, he’d done nothing but verbally abuse everyone who entered the room, her and Stacy most of all. This was the first time she’d seen them talking rather than yelling.
Though by the look on Stacy’s face, and the way she was wiping at tears, screaming might have been kinder. When Stacy left, she stood staring at the man in the room, feigning sleep. She wished there was something she could say, but mere words could not fix the damage.
---
She couldn’t answer Vogler’s charge of past indiscretions with House, because there was no way to do so. It depended on your definition of “sex” and the meaning of “is” and she wasn’t so sure of those answers her self.
The question was not any easier to answer when Cameron raised it, albeit with slightly more subtlety. Most days she couldn’t even say they were friends, and there had never been a relationship.
But while she could never quite say yes, it would have been just as much of a lie for her to say no. She kept her secrets.
---
When House’s request for Ketamine was passed on to her, she wasn’t sure how to react. They had discussed it already, and had decided it was too risky. None of his fellows could have known that, so she had to consider it. As he lay bleeding, other factors far outweighed the risks.
She weighed the odds as she made her way to surgery. Scrubbing in, she did the mental calculations, and when she stepped into the OR, she quietly took Hulse aside and discussed the additional anesthesia.
As House went under, she crossed her fingers then picked up a scalpel.
---
It wasn’t as startling as it should have been when he showed up at her window in the middle of the night, dripping wet and spouting off more ideas. He’d always been a night owl, and always had more answers than questions.
How good he looked doing it all, while standing in the middle of her flowerbed, that was what struck her. She hadn’t seen him this happy in years, with the vibrancy practically radiating off him. He’d been a fun man, but never a happy one, had never been like this before.
Pleased, she smiled as he jogged away.
---
Happiness was about moments, not about a state of being. She was slowly making her peace with that as things crumbled around her and she had to take what little solace where it could be found.
One donor’s early Christmas gift, one failed fertility treatment.
Another patient cured, another prescription filled for House.
She tried to keep track of all the pieces as things broke down, in hopes of being able to put them back together again in something half as beautiful as the original. The effort was exhausting, but she refused to believe things would go on like this.
---
----
End