FF: Kallisti
Title: Kallisti
Author: Ellie
Rating: PG
Spoilers: “Meaning” alternative take
Summary: An AU take on the ending of “Meaning,” departing from the scene at Cuddy’s window.
Author’s Notes: The title comes from the phrase inscribed on the golden apple in the Judgment of Paris. Tossed out by Eris, goddess of Discord, it read “for the fairest.”
****
“Cortisol.” She looked at him questioningly, watching water and sweat trail from his hair down his face like tears. He wanted this badly, but just why he wanted it she wasn’t sure.
“Just cortisol.” He met her gaze until a trickle of water hit his eye, and he wiped hastily at his face with her wadded towel. “It won’t do anything if I’m wrong. If I’m right, it will change his life.”
She understood then where he was coming from. Resting her hands against the window sill, she sighed and stared down at the floor. The right thing to do would be to hold her ground, to have meant it when she told him “no” that afternoon. But he had a point, and reason this time, not just the platitudes he’d offered her earlier.
He was still huffing, and stomping on her azaleas as he wiped himself off. She watched him for a minute, sighing again. “Come around to the back door.”
Before she closed the window, he’d disappeared into the darkness of her yard. When she met him at the patio door, he held out her towel and a hydrangea like a peace offering.
“You broke that off my neighbor’s bush!” Frowning to hide her amusement at the gesture, she took both from him and turned away.
“I’m not interested in your neighbor’s bush. With that ensemble, though, yours-“
“Stop right there, House.” She gestured to a dining room chair as she draped the damp towel over the back of another. “You run here, in the dead of night, to convince me that this patient just needs cortisol, and everything will be solved.” After years of his antics, this shouldn’t surprise her, and it doesn’t shock so much as touch. Part of her wants to give him this, wants him to take this much interest in patients. But she doesn’t want it to be because he sees himself in them.
He sat and stared up at her in the darkness, the catching light making his eyes glow. “Don’t you trust me?”
She bowed her head and stared down at the pale hydrangea, silver in the night. “I trust you. I don’t know if I trust your judgment right now.”
“What the hell does that mean?” He stood, nearly toppling the chair in his haste to rise, looming over her, a menacing shadow. Only a step separated them, and he closed the distance, standing close enough that she could feel the humid heat radiating off him.
Temptation tore at her, to back down, to step closer. She stood her ground, but reached out to touch his damp arm. “It means that while you’re an exceptional physician, right now you’re just coming back from a life-altering injury and treatment. Your judgment is clouded by what happened to you. This patient is not you, House.”
His hands were warm as they gripped her shoulders, and she could feel his breath hot on her face as he spoke. “But doesn’t he deserve the same second chance I had? You gave one to me. Is he less deserving than me?”
For just a moment, against her better judgment, she gave in to the temptation to rest her forehead against his chest. She could feel the strong, steady throb of his heart, racing with adrenaline and apprehension and his proximity to her. “You won’t give it to him. You’re not to have any more contact with him, is that clear?”
“No? You’re telling me-“
“I’m not,” she said, with some measure of disappointment in herself. “I’m telling you that you’re not to give him the cortisol. I’ll stop by before he leaves tomorrow morning and give it myself. You are done with this case.”
“Thank you.” His hands traced her bare arms, and despite their warmth, she shivered.
To cover her body’s traitorous response, she said, “You’ve been saying that an awful lot lately. Are you sure the ketamine didn’t do some permanent damage?”
“You know very well how nice I’m capable of being when I want.” His breath ruffled her disheveled curls as he spoke.
“That’s usually when you want something.”
“I can think of something else I want now.”
When she kissed him, she intended it to be a quick peck, but it rapidly evolved into something deeper, with biting lips and dueling tongues. It left her weak-kneed and wondering why she’d let him into her home in the dead of night, with her nearly naked and him already dripping with sweat. Reluctantly, she pulled away from him. “Go home, House.”
He stared at her for a moment, his eyes seeming to reflect back all the light in the dim room, and it took all her will not to drag him back to her bed. She wanted him, wanted to hear him scream her name, and tousle his hair and hold him in the early hours of the morning. “Go home,” she whispered again.
With a nod and a kiss to the crown of her head, he walked to the patio doors. “Thank you, for everything.” Then he was gone, as if he’d never been there. She would have thought it all another dream, if not for the towel and the purloined flower, and the wet footprints stained onto her hardwood floors in the early morning light.
***
Cuddy tried not to notice House, lurking just around the corner, as she stopped by Richard’s room. His family was eager to leave, but she very plausibly presented one last check before his discharge.
Understandably, they’d been worried when she produced a needle. Even she wasn’t convinced of its necessity, but she was convinced of her trust in House.
“This is just a shot of cortisol, for any infections.” The lie rolled off her tongue so easily, and she wondered if she’d been spending too much time with House.
She’d been disappointed when nothing seemed to happen, more disappointed than she cared to admit. Walking away, she caught House’s eye and gave a discreet, sad shake of her head. Then she heard the exclamations of Richard’s family and nurse, and turned to see him rising, unsteadily, from his chair, falling into the waiting arms of his wife.
Tears threatened as she returned to his side, watching the family embrace. In her peripheral vision, she caught sight of House, and turned to see him standing at the corner, watching with a pensive, downcast visage. He lingered until the family had descended in the elevator, but when she turned back to find him, he’d disappeared.
It was early, earlier than even she normally arrived, so she went looking for him. He wasn’t in his office, or in Wilson’s, who spared her a disappointed gaze as she passed. She ignored him and made her way up to the roof.
In the bright light of dawn he looked younger, renewed, as he leaned against the parapet. Even when the door squealed closed behind her, he didn’t turn to her, just continued watching the scene below. As she came to his side and looked down, she saw Richard getting into the family’s Volvo, assisted by his son.
She put a hand on his shoulder. “You were right.”
“I almost always am,” he said, smiling.
“Just don’t expect to stop fighting for it.”
“I’ve got less pain to fight now, so that’s perfect for my schedule.”
“Less? You said Monday that there was none.”
She almost thought the conversation was over, as he silently stared down at the entry to the hospital. Finally, his voice almost disappearing with the fall breeze, he said, “A few muscle pains. Nothing like before.”
Acknowledging him with a nod, she patted his shoulder and stepped away. “Stop trying to cram six years of living into two months. Now go do some work.”
“I’m not on ‘til nine!” was the last thing she heard as roof door closed behind her.
****
End
****
Author: Ellie
Rating: PG
Spoilers: “Meaning” alternative take
Summary: An AU take on the ending of “Meaning,” departing from the scene at Cuddy’s window.
Author’s Notes: The title comes from the phrase inscribed on the golden apple in the Judgment of Paris. Tossed out by Eris, goddess of Discord, it read “for the fairest.”
****
“Cortisol.” She looked at him questioningly, watching water and sweat trail from his hair down his face like tears. He wanted this badly, but just why he wanted it she wasn’t sure.
“Just cortisol.” He met her gaze until a trickle of water hit his eye, and he wiped hastily at his face with her wadded towel. “It won’t do anything if I’m wrong. If I’m right, it will change his life.”
She understood then where he was coming from. Resting her hands against the window sill, she sighed and stared down at the floor. The right thing to do would be to hold her ground, to have meant it when she told him “no” that afternoon. But he had a point, and reason this time, not just the platitudes he’d offered her earlier.
He was still huffing, and stomping on her azaleas as he wiped himself off. She watched him for a minute, sighing again. “Come around to the back door.”
Before she closed the window, he’d disappeared into the darkness of her yard. When she met him at the patio door, he held out her towel and a hydrangea like a peace offering.
“You broke that off my neighbor’s bush!” Frowning to hide her amusement at the gesture, she took both from him and turned away.
“I’m not interested in your neighbor’s bush. With that ensemble, though, yours-“
“Stop right there, House.” She gestured to a dining room chair as she draped the damp towel over the back of another. “You run here, in the dead of night, to convince me that this patient just needs cortisol, and everything will be solved.” After years of his antics, this shouldn’t surprise her, and it doesn’t shock so much as touch. Part of her wants to give him this, wants him to take this much interest in patients. But she doesn’t want it to be because he sees himself in them.
He sat and stared up at her in the darkness, the catching light making his eyes glow. “Don’t you trust me?”
She bowed her head and stared down at the pale hydrangea, silver in the night. “I trust you. I don’t know if I trust your judgment right now.”
“What the hell does that mean?” He stood, nearly toppling the chair in his haste to rise, looming over her, a menacing shadow. Only a step separated them, and he closed the distance, standing close enough that she could feel the humid heat radiating off him.
Temptation tore at her, to back down, to step closer. She stood her ground, but reached out to touch his damp arm. “It means that while you’re an exceptional physician, right now you’re just coming back from a life-altering injury and treatment. Your judgment is clouded by what happened to you. This patient is not you, House.”
His hands were warm as they gripped her shoulders, and she could feel his breath hot on her face as he spoke. “But doesn’t he deserve the same second chance I had? You gave one to me. Is he less deserving than me?”
For just a moment, against her better judgment, she gave in to the temptation to rest her forehead against his chest. She could feel the strong, steady throb of his heart, racing with adrenaline and apprehension and his proximity to her. “You won’t give it to him. You’re not to have any more contact with him, is that clear?”
“No? You’re telling me-“
“I’m not,” she said, with some measure of disappointment in herself. “I’m telling you that you’re not to give him the cortisol. I’ll stop by before he leaves tomorrow morning and give it myself. You are done with this case.”
“Thank you.” His hands traced her bare arms, and despite their warmth, she shivered.
To cover her body’s traitorous response, she said, “You’ve been saying that an awful lot lately. Are you sure the ketamine didn’t do some permanent damage?”
“You know very well how nice I’m capable of being when I want.” His breath ruffled her disheveled curls as he spoke.
“That’s usually when you want something.”
“I can think of something else I want now.”
When she kissed him, she intended it to be a quick peck, but it rapidly evolved into something deeper, with biting lips and dueling tongues. It left her weak-kneed and wondering why she’d let him into her home in the dead of night, with her nearly naked and him already dripping with sweat. Reluctantly, she pulled away from him. “Go home, House.”
He stared at her for a moment, his eyes seeming to reflect back all the light in the dim room, and it took all her will not to drag him back to her bed. She wanted him, wanted to hear him scream her name, and tousle his hair and hold him in the early hours of the morning. “Go home,” she whispered again.
With a nod and a kiss to the crown of her head, he walked to the patio doors. “Thank you, for everything.” Then he was gone, as if he’d never been there. She would have thought it all another dream, if not for the towel and the purloined flower, and the wet footprints stained onto her hardwood floors in the early morning light.
***
Cuddy tried not to notice House, lurking just around the corner, as she stopped by Richard’s room. His family was eager to leave, but she very plausibly presented one last check before his discharge.
Understandably, they’d been worried when she produced a needle. Even she wasn’t convinced of its necessity, but she was convinced of her trust in House.
“This is just a shot of cortisol, for any infections.” The lie rolled off her tongue so easily, and she wondered if she’d been spending too much time with House.
She’d been disappointed when nothing seemed to happen, more disappointed than she cared to admit. Walking away, she caught House’s eye and gave a discreet, sad shake of her head. Then she heard the exclamations of Richard’s family and nurse, and turned to see him rising, unsteadily, from his chair, falling into the waiting arms of his wife.
Tears threatened as she returned to his side, watching the family embrace. In her peripheral vision, she caught sight of House, and turned to see him standing at the corner, watching with a pensive, downcast visage. He lingered until the family had descended in the elevator, but when she turned back to find him, he’d disappeared.
It was early, earlier than even she normally arrived, so she went looking for him. He wasn’t in his office, or in Wilson’s, who spared her a disappointed gaze as she passed. She ignored him and made her way up to the roof.
In the bright light of dawn he looked younger, renewed, as he leaned against the parapet. Even when the door squealed closed behind her, he didn’t turn to her, just continued watching the scene below. As she came to his side and looked down, she saw Richard getting into the family’s Volvo, assisted by his son.
She put a hand on his shoulder. “You were right.”
“I almost always am,” he said, smiling.
“Just don’t expect to stop fighting for it.”
“I’ve got less pain to fight now, so that’s perfect for my schedule.”
“Less? You said Monday that there was none.”
She almost thought the conversation was over, as he silently stared down at the entry to the hospital. Finally, his voice almost disappearing with the fall breeze, he said, “A few muscle pains. Nothing like before.”
Acknowledging him with a nod, she patted his shoulder and stepped away. “Stop trying to cram six years of living into two months. Now go do some work.”
“I’m not on ‘til nine!” was the last thing she heard as roof door closed behind her.
****
End
****