Fic: Lovely Parting Gifts
My second attempt at an all-dialogue fic. This takes place after the series finale and will probably be 2 or 3 chapters. Hope you like it.
Title: Lovely Parting Gifts, or, When Larry Met Ally
Author: NiiceLaady
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: House/Cameron
Spoilers: Series finale
Warnings: Probably some soft-focus sex in the next chapter. Nothing in this one.
Disclaimer: Labor of love. Not making any money from playing dress-up and pretend with these characters, and David Shore can have them back anytime he wants.
"Hello, House."
"..."
"Shouldn't I be the one looking as if she's seen a ghost?"
"OK ... where is she?"
"Where is who?"
"My lovely parting gift."
"Excuse me?"
"I get a phone call with a message from my dead best friend, summoning me to a motel. Logical conclusion: He arranged a little something -- a little someone -- to take my mind off the fact that he's ... my dead best friend."
"If you mean a hooker, sorry to disappoint you. No hookers here. Just me."
"Does your husband know you're meeting another man at a motel?"
"Do you mean my late husband, or my former husband?"
"Number three. Your babydaddy."
"What are you talking about, House? I haven't remarried, and I don't have a baby."
"I saw him ... saw them ... with you."
"You must have been dreaming."
"Dreaming ... or hallucinating. Still doesn't explain why you're here."
"Come inside and I'll show you."
"That's what I was expecting to hear -- just not from you."
"Very funny. Have a seat. All right, I'm here because of this. Came in the mail two days ago. Go ahead, read it."
Dear Allison,
By the time you get this, it will be over. I'm writing to say goodbye and to thank you for being such a good friend to me. I don't know what I would have done without you when Amber died. You knew just what to say, and when to say nothing at all. And that's why I'm also writing to ask you a favor. But first, I have something to tell you. Something big. Something I'm not telling anyone else. Are you sitting down?
He's alive, Allison. House is alive. That text I got in the middle of his funeral? It was from him. He faked his death so he could spend my last months with me. And what amazing months they've been. On the road, like Thelma and Louise, doing whatever we felt like, crossing things off a bucket list I didn't know I had.
I'm not afraid of dying. But I am afraid for House. Afraid of what might happen to him when I'm gone. He gave up his life for me, as surely as if he'd taken a bullet for me on the battlefield. And now he's alone, with nothing and nobody.
I'm telling you this because I want you to reach out to him. Let him know that there is someone who knows he's alive and who cares if he lives or dies. Why you? Two reasons: You know how to help someone deal with loss, and you still care. I saw it in your eyes when you spoke at his funeral. You still believe in him. And so do I.
He may turn you away -- for both your sakes I hope he doesn't -- but at least I know I tried.
Check the postmark on this letter to see where we were at the end. The number for the phone he's been using is on the next page. I'll leave the particulars of making contact up to you.
Thank you for whatever you can do, Allison. And thanks for being you. Shalom.
Love,
James Wilson
"..."
"You OK, House?"
"Hmph -- Thelma and Louise. He couldn't have said Butch and Sundance?"
"Which one were you?"
"Actually, for the past few weeks I've been Laurence Hughes."
"Who?"
"First rule of aliases: Pick a name that's easy for you to remember but easy for everyone else to forget."
"So should I call you Larry?"
"Only if I get to call you Ally."
"Never mind."
"Well, you found me. And you know I'm alive. And apparently I'm about to find out how much you care."
"Beg your pardon?"
"Um ... we're in a motel."
"Yes. We are."
Chapter 2.
Title: Lovely Parting Gifts, or, When Larry Met Ally
Author: NiiceLaady
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: House/Cameron
Spoilers: Series finale
Warnings: Probably some soft-focus sex in the next chapter. Nothing in this one.
Disclaimer: Labor of love. Not making any money from playing dress-up and pretend with these characters, and David Shore can have them back anytime he wants.
"Hello, House."
"..."
"Shouldn't I be the one looking as if she's seen a ghost?"
"OK ... where is she?"
"Where is who?"
"My lovely parting gift."
"Excuse me?"
"I get a phone call with a message from my dead best friend, summoning me to a motel. Logical conclusion: He arranged a little something -- a little someone -- to take my mind off the fact that he's ... my dead best friend."
"If you mean a hooker, sorry to disappoint you. No hookers here. Just me."
"Does your husband know you're meeting another man at a motel?"
"Do you mean my late husband, or my former husband?"
"Number three. Your babydaddy."
"What are you talking about, House? I haven't remarried, and I don't have a baby."
"I saw him ... saw them ... with you."
"You must have been dreaming."
"Dreaming ... or hallucinating. Still doesn't explain why you're here."
"Come inside and I'll show you."
"That's what I was expecting to hear -- just not from you."
"Very funny. Have a seat. All right, I'm here because of this. Came in the mail two days ago. Go ahead, read it."
Dear Allison,
By the time you get this, it will be over. I'm writing to say goodbye and to thank you for being such a good friend to me. I don't know what I would have done without you when Amber died. You knew just what to say, and when to say nothing at all. And that's why I'm also writing to ask you a favor. But first, I have something to tell you. Something big. Something I'm not telling anyone else. Are you sitting down?
He's alive, Allison. House is alive. That text I got in the middle of his funeral? It was from him. He faked his death so he could spend my last months with me. And what amazing months they've been. On the road, like Thelma and Louise, doing whatever we felt like, crossing things off a bucket list I didn't know I had.
I'm not afraid of dying. But I am afraid for House. Afraid of what might happen to him when I'm gone. He gave up his life for me, as surely as if he'd taken a bullet for me on the battlefield. And now he's alone, with nothing and nobody.
I'm telling you this because I want you to reach out to him. Let him know that there is someone who knows he's alive and who cares if he lives or dies. Why you? Two reasons: You know how to help someone deal with loss, and you still care. I saw it in your eyes when you spoke at his funeral. You still believe in him. And so do I.
He may turn you away -- for both your sakes I hope he doesn't -- but at least I know I tried.
Check the postmark on this letter to see where we were at the end. The number for the phone he's been using is on the next page. I'll leave the particulars of making contact up to you.
Thank you for whatever you can do, Allison. And thanks for being you. Shalom.
Love,
James Wilson
"..."
"You OK, House?"
"Hmph -- Thelma and Louise. He couldn't have said Butch and Sundance?"
"Which one were you?"
"Actually, for the past few weeks I've been Laurence Hughes."
"Who?"
"First rule of aliases: Pick a name that's easy for you to remember but easy for everyone else to forget."
"So should I call you Larry?"
"Only if I get to call you Ally."
"Never mind."
"Well, you found me. And you know I'm alive. And apparently I'm about to find out how much you care."
"Beg your pardon?"
"Um ... we're in a motel."
"Yes. We are."
Chapter 2.