Gentle Knock - Chapter 46
Title: A Gentle Knock at the Door, Chapter 46
Author: zeppomarx
Characters: I know you know who the characters are by now: House, Wilson, Cuddy, etc.
Warnings and So On: NC-17 for concepts. H/W friendship (perhaps slash if you wear those kind of goggles)
Summary: For anyone who missed the lecture at the beginning of class: House is a physical and emotional mess, having been wrongly imprisoned and tortured and all sorts of nasty stuff. It's about what happens next, and how House deals with it. A sequel to Priority's Exigencies, which is a sequel to DIY Sheep's The Contract, which has spawned an incredible number of offshoots.
Timeline: Set nearly a year after the beginning of Exigencies.
Earlier chapters: Chapters 1-16 here. Chapters 18-43 here. Chapters 44-? here.
Comments: I like getting comments. Comments are good. If you're one of those people who reads but never says anything, I'd really like to encourage you to come out of the woodwork and write to me. It means a tremendous amount to the writer, who -- in my case -- has devoted half a year to this story, thus far. So please, come out wherever you are and post a comment.
Oh, Yeah, the Disclaimer: Don't you get tired of reading the same old same old here all the time? I know I do. It's pretty obvious I don't own this stuff, I'm not going to sell it and I'm just doing this for fun. There. I've said it. And I'm glad. Glad, do you hear me? Glaaad!
SUMMARY: House faces a dilemma and doesn't know what to do...
TEASER: What's the Point?
___________________________________________
A Gentle Knock at the Door
Chapter 46
“Not hungry.”
“You need to eat.”
“No. I don’t.”
Jason Mbhali, the nurse, newly transferred to this floor and to this (these?) patient(s), tried again.
“You need to keep your strength up.”
“Why?”
The patient, curled up under the blanket, stared bleakly at the wall.
“I’ll have to tell your doctor if you won’t eat.” That usually worked.
“Go ahead. He’s right behind me. Wake him up. He’ll love that.”
Mbhali didn’t know what to do. He’d been a nurse for eight years, but he’d never run across anything like this before. He’d seen patients share a room before, but not a bed. And he’d certainly never heard of a doctor sharing a bed with his patient.
Finally, he exited, thoroughly confused, leaving the uneaten food still sitting on its tray.
* * * *
On into the night, House woke up, startled, from a drugged sleep. Instinctively, he covered his head and waited for… what? The room was quiet, except for the gentle beep of two sets of monitors. In the corner he saw a soft reading light casting a foggy glow over the snoring figure of Wilson sleeping on the couch.
The events of the day seemed about as foggy as the light. Stretching his neck, then his arms and torso, he noted that he didn’t seem to be any the worse for wear.
Rainie was sleeping. Not right up next to him as usual, but on the far side of her bed, close to the edge and with her back to him.
Or was she sleeping? Hmmmm. Maybe not.
He leaned over and touched her lightly on the back. She hunched her shoulder and pulled away.
“Hey,” he said, quietly, not wanting to wake up Wilson.
She didn’t say anything.
“Wake up.”
“I am awake.” Her voice was a monotone.
“Then sit up.”
“What’s the point?”
This wasn’t like her. At least not like any part of her personality he’d experienced thus far. He saw the untouched tray of food next to the bed.
“Come on. Turn over.”
“No.”
“Why not? I’m your doctor and I’m telling you to turn over.”
“Don’t want to. Go away.”
“Are you okay?”
“Oh, sure. I’m fine.”
She didn’t sound fine. Finally, she rolled over, but wouldn’t look at him. Her face looked blank, and her eyes had no glow.
“What’s the point?” she said again, this time into the blanket.
“The point of what?”
That was too much.
“Of anything. I’m a freak. I’ve got no life, no future… no past… no reason… no anything…”
Then in a very small voice, as if she didn’t quite want him to hear her, she added, “…no hope.”
He couldn’t say he was surprised, having felt that kind of desolation himself. He was just surprised it had taken this long. He’d convinced himself that he’d been having a positive effect on her recovery, but maybe all he did was put off the inevitable.
“What brought this on? Pevey? He’s crazy, you know.”
“Doesn’t matter. I went through all of this… all of this shit… to save Evie. And I couldn’t even do that. What’s the point? I hurt all the time. Yeah, yeah, I know you do, too. Big deal.
“So what am I going to do? Stay drugged up the rest of my life? I can’t live on my own. I probably can’t work. Who’s going to hire me? And if they could, can I even do my job anymore? I have no family, no one except Evan, who’s happily gay and doesn’t need a fucked-up straight woman messing up his life. Now that Evie’s gone, it just doesn’t matter. I want it over. Whatever this life is, I want it over. I… I just can’t take it anymore.”
House thought a minute before responding. Certainly, he’d been there, as recently as a few weeks ago. Was this something that would pass with sleep and time, or was it more serious? Not for the first time, he wished he had Jacey Liu’s expertise.
“My, aren’t we a bundle of laughs tonight?”
She glared at him from under the covers.
He stretched his left arm toward her.
“Don’t. Touch. Me,” she said evenly just before his hand reached her.
He withdrew his hand.
Okay. That worked real well. Now what?
“Should I leave you alone?”
“Might as well. Everyone else has.”
Aha. Thanks for the clue. Now, what was it a clue to?
His brain still felt foggy, and he just couldn’t seem to get a grip on what was going on with her. Some of it he recognized-the despair, the depression, yes-but what was this other thing, this rejection of him personally? He thought he ought to know what it was, but maybe it was too late at night, or maybe they’d upped his meds, or maybe the excitement of the day had clouded his mind.
“Fine. If that’s the way you want it.”
If she wanted to play that way, he’d play. Unless maybe that was the wrong thing to do. Damn it. He might have to talk to Jacey if this didn’t improve, and find out what to do.
The next day was no better. Rainie still wouldn’t eat, and she was far too thin to go without food. She stared aimlessly and refused to talk, getting more and more withdrawn as the day went on.
House was worried. More than worried, he found he was lonely. Despite himself, he’d grown accustomed to having Rainie to talk to, to be with. And now she’d separated herself from him so much that the room felt empty. Worse than empty.
* * * *
Finally, while she was out at her afternoon physio session the following day, House called Jacey on her cell and asked if she’d come down. She showed up about fifteen minutes later.
“What’s up? You don’t usually ask my advice.”
“No, I usually wait until there’s a crisis and then let you take charge.”
True. But this time, he wasn’t waiting for the crisis, which suggested he thought it was going to be a bad one.
“Is it you or Rainie?”
“Rainie. Or both of us. I’m not sure.”
“Tell me what’s happening?”
“I wish I knew. All of a sudden, she won’t eat, she won’t talk much and when she does, she sounds… well, there’s nothing there. No inflection. I don’t know if it’s something about what happened in court or if it’s a natural reaction to everything… or what.”
“Tell me what she’s been saying.”
“The night after the trial, she kept saying, ‘What’s the point?’ and talking about how she wanted her life to be over. She wouldn’t look at me, wouldn’t talk to me. Hasn’t really talked to me since.”
“What did you do?”
He sounded apprehensive. “What do you mean? What did I do? I don’t think I did anything to her.”
Interesting, thought Jacey, that he immediately assumes I think it’s his fault.
“No, no,” she said, trying to be reassuring. “I don’t think you did anything to her. I meant how did you react when this happened?”
She saw a flash of something waver across House’s face, relief perhaps.
“Oh, that. At first, I tried to kid her out of it. Then I just backed off.”
“Okay, let’s start with this. Depression is a very natural reaction to something of this magnitude. A combination of survivor’s guilt and grief over the lost life, hopes and dreams. It’s why the suicide rate among returning vets is so high.”
Suddenly, he looked dismayed. She saw him trying to get his emotions under control.
“She’s suicidal? I mean, that does make sense. Been there. But how did she go from trying to protect me two days ago to not caring the same night?”
“Well, that’s the $64,000 question, isn’t it? My guess would be that it got triggered when Pevey threatened her. Up to that point, she’d been slowly exploring the idea that maybe she had some control over her life. Suddenly, he took that control away and thrust her back into an environment where she-and you-had no control.”
She looked as his face as she said this, and realized she’d hit a nerve when she saw a haunted look come over him. He nodded. She could see him drift away into his own thoughts and memories.
After a moment, she said, “Greg?”
His eyes refocused and he took in a sharp breath.
“I’m with you,” he said. Barely, but with you.
“The other thing, and you’ve probably figured this out yourself, is that depression is so often actually all about anger, usually about anger that has no healthy outlet. She, like you, is furious about what was done to her. And, in her case, what was also done to her husband and child. But she doesn’t feel there’s a healthy way to vent that anger. So it stays inside and eats at her. As I know it does with you.”
It was one thing for him to open up to Rainie, who was so fragile and whose experiences were so like his, but it was quite another for Jacey Liu to peer into his soul without permission. He felt thrown off balance.
“And don’t bother rationalizing why this isn’t true for you,” she said, disconcertingly. “It is, and you know it.”
He looked right at her. “I hate you,” he said, his eyes narrowing into slits.
She laughed. “Well, that’s a start. But what are we going to do about Rainie? Got any ideas?”
“Based on what you said, the only thing I can think of is to make her angry.”
“That’s one approach. The other is to keep calling her on her behavior. Or both. You’ve said it a number of times: You understand her better than anyone else could. Don’t be afraid to tell her the truth-it’s never stopped you with anyone else.”
Somehow it was easier to tell the blunt, unvarnished truth as he saw it when he was talking to his staff or to Wilson or Cuddy. Rainie was different. He told her the truth, but it was a different truth-the truth about their situation, and the truth about himself. In this case, he wasn’t totally sure what the truth was. So he ignored that part of the conversation and skipped back.
“The anger thing. Is that really a good idea?”
“Frankly, I don’t think it can hurt. If she stays this way for very long, she’s going to make herself more ill. And what you and I both want for her is to find some kind of peace with her situation.
“It’s like the stages of grief-because, well, actually, that’s what it is-she’s grieving over her lost life. She’s already done denial, while she was in the midst of it and immediately after. She’s experiencing some depression, and for all we know, she may have done some bargaining. The only real anger either of us has seen with her has been the times she stuck up for you in court.”
“Which brings up the other thing,” said House, almost hesitant to bring it up. “This is the first time she seems to be rejecting me personally. Am I handling this wrong? Or is it like a kid who’s off to school, bound and determined to let mom know she’s not needed anymore?”
Jacey Liu looked at him sharply. He was usually so perceptive.
“Not sure,” she replied, tentatively, deciding as she spoke to forge on ahead as tactfully as she could. “Might be something entirely different. Don’t forget, she’s lost almost all the people she loves. Often when that happens, survivors start trying to push away anyone they develop feelings for, to try to protect themselves from what they are convinced will become the inevitable loss. Sound familiar?”
Oh, yes, thought House. He might not be a survivor in the same way, but he understood the concept. Stacy. And virtually everyone else since then. Except Rainie. It dawned on him that he’d never once been inclined to push her away, probably because of their shared tragedy, and because she was so very fragile.
Now, at least, her rejection made some sort of sense. She’d grown to care about him-that was obvious from how she’d behaved in court-and somehow Pevey’s attack made her feel that it was safer to keep him at arm’s length.
So was there any way to convince her that she wouldn’t lose him, too? The scientist in him said of course not. Neither of them could control accidents or illness. And the part of him that had spent years doing the rejecting also said of course not. She couldn’t risk letting him get too close, because it would hurt too much.
He hated this kind of crap.
NEXT: It Hurts Too Much...
Author: zeppomarx
Characters: I know you know who the characters are by now: House, Wilson, Cuddy, etc.
Warnings and So On: NC-17 for concepts. H/W friendship (perhaps slash if you wear those kind of goggles)
Summary: For anyone who missed the lecture at the beginning of class: House is a physical and emotional mess, having been wrongly imprisoned and tortured and all sorts of nasty stuff. It's about what happens next, and how House deals with it. A sequel to Priority's Exigencies, which is a sequel to DIY Sheep's The Contract, which has spawned an incredible number of offshoots.
Timeline: Set nearly a year after the beginning of Exigencies.
Earlier chapters: Chapters 1-16 here. Chapters 18-43 here. Chapters 44-? here.
Comments: I like getting comments. Comments are good. If you're one of those people who reads but never says anything, I'd really like to encourage you to come out of the woodwork and write to me. It means a tremendous amount to the writer, who -- in my case -- has devoted half a year to this story, thus far. So please, come out wherever you are and post a comment.
Oh, Yeah, the Disclaimer: Don't you get tired of reading the same old same old here all the time? I know I do. It's pretty obvious I don't own this stuff, I'm not going to sell it and I'm just doing this for fun. There. I've said it. And I'm glad. Glad, do you hear me? Glaaad!
SUMMARY: House faces a dilemma and doesn't know what to do...
TEASER: What's the Point?
___________________________________________
A Gentle Knock at the Door
Chapter 46
“Not hungry.”
“You need to eat.”
“No. I don’t.”
Jason Mbhali, the nurse, newly transferred to this floor and to this (these?) patient(s), tried again.
“You need to keep your strength up.”
“Why?”
The patient, curled up under the blanket, stared bleakly at the wall.
“I’ll have to tell your doctor if you won’t eat.” That usually worked.
“Go ahead. He’s right behind me. Wake him up. He’ll love that.”
Mbhali didn’t know what to do. He’d been a nurse for eight years, but he’d never run across anything like this before. He’d seen patients share a room before, but not a bed. And he’d certainly never heard of a doctor sharing a bed with his patient.
Finally, he exited, thoroughly confused, leaving the uneaten food still sitting on its tray.
* * * *
On into the night, House woke up, startled, from a drugged sleep. Instinctively, he covered his head and waited for… what? The room was quiet, except for the gentle beep of two sets of monitors. In the corner he saw a soft reading light casting a foggy glow over the snoring figure of Wilson sleeping on the couch.
The events of the day seemed about as foggy as the light. Stretching his neck, then his arms and torso, he noted that he didn’t seem to be any the worse for wear.
Rainie was sleeping. Not right up next to him as usual, but on the far side of her bed, close to the edge and with her back to him.
Or was she sleeping? Hmmmm. Maybe not.
He leaned over and touched her lightly on the back. She hunched her shoulder and pulled away.
“Hey,” he said, quietly, not wanting to wake up Wilson.
She didn’t say anything.
“Wake up.”
“I am awake.” Her voice was a monotone.
“Then sit up.”
“What’s the point?”
This wasn’t like her. At least not like any part of her personality he’d experienced thus far. He saw the untouched tray of food next to the bed.
“Come on. Turn over.”
“No.”
“Why not? I’m your doctor and I’m telling you to turn over.”
“Don’t want to. Go away.”
“Are you okay?”
“Oh, sure. I’m fine.”
She didn’t sound fine. Finally, she rolled over, but wouldn’t look at him. Her face looked blank, and her eyes had no glow.
“What’s the point?” she said again, this time into the blanket.
“The point of what?”
That was too much.
“Of anything. I’m a freak. I’ve got no life, no future… no past… no reason… no anything…”
Then in a very small voice, as if she didn’t quite want him to hear her, she added, “…no hope.”
He couldn’t say he was surprised, having felt that kind of desolation himself. He was just surprised it had taken this long. He’d convinced himself that he’d been having a positive effect on her recovery, but maybe all he did was put off the inevitable.
“What brought this on? Pevey? He’s crazy, you know.”
“Doesn’t matter. I went through all of this… all of this shit… to save Evie. And I couldn’t even do that. What’s the point? I hurt all the time. Yeah, yeah, I know you do, too. Big deal.
“So what am I going to do? Stay drugged up the rest of my life? I can’t live on my own. I probably can’t work. Who’s going to hire me? And if they could, can I even do my job anymore? I have no family, no one except Evan, who’s happily gay and doesn’t need a fucked-up straight woman messing up his life. Now that Evie’s gone, it just doesn’t matter. I want it over. Whatever this life is, I want it over. I… I just can’t take it anymore.”
House thought a minute before responding. Certainly, he’d been there, as recently as a few weeks ago. Was this something that would pass with sleep and time, or was it more serious? Not for the first time, he wished he had Jacey Liu’s expertise.
“My, aren’t we a bundle of laughs tonight?”
She glared at him from under the covers.
He stretched his left arm toward her.
“Don’t. Touch. Me,” she said evenly just before his hand reached her.
He withdrew his hand.
Okay. That worked real well. Now what?
“Should I leave you alone?”
“Might as well. Everyone else has.”
Aha. Thanks for the clue. Now, what was it a clue to?
His brain still felt foggy, and he just couldn’t seem to get a grip on what was going on with her. Some of it he recognized-the despair, the depression, yes-but what was this other thing, this rejection of him personally? He thought he ought to know what it was, but maybe it was too late at night, or maybe they’d upped his meds, or maybe the excitement of the day had clouded his mind.
“Fine. If that’s the way you want it.”
If she wanted to play that way, he’d play. Unless maybe that was the wrong thing to do. Damn it. He might have to talk to Jacey if this didn’t improve, and find out what to do.
The next day was no better. Rainie still wouldn’t eat, and she was far too thin to go without food. She stared aimlessly and refused to talk, getting more and more withdrawn as the day went on.
House was worried. More than worried, he found he was lonely. Despite himself, he’d grown accustomed to having Rainie to talk to, to be with. And now she’d separated herself from him so much that the room felt empty. Worse than empty.
* * * *
Finally, while she was out at her afternoon physio session the following day, House called Jacey on her cell and asked if she’d come down. She showed up about fifteen minutes later.
“What’s up? You don’t usually ask my advice.”
“No, I usually wait until there’s a crisis and then let you take charge.”
True. But this time, he wasn’t waiting for the crisis, which suggested he thought it was going to be a bad one.
“Is it you or Rainie?”
“Rainie. Or both of us. I’m not sure.”
“Tell me what’s happening?”
“I wish I knew. All of a sudden, she won’t eat, she won’t talk much and when she does, she sounds… well, there’s nothing there. No inflection. I don’t know if it’s something about what happened in court or if it’s a natural reaction to everything… or what.”
“Tell me what she’s been saying.”
“The night after the trial, she kept saying, ‘What’s the point?’ and talking about how she wanted her life to be over. She wouldn’t look at me, wouldn’t talk to me. Hasn’t really talked to me since.”
“What did you do?”
He sounded apprehensive. “What do you mean? What did I do? I don’t think I did anything to her.”
Interesting, thought Jacey, that he immediately assumes I think it’s his fault.
“No, no,” she said, trying to be reassuring. “I don’t think you did anything to her. I meant how did you react when this happened?”
She saw a flash of something waver across House’s face, relief perhaps.
“Oh, that. At first, I tried to kid her out of it. Then I just backed off.”
“Okay, let’s start with this. Depression is a very natural reaction to something of this magnitude. A combination of survivor’s guilt and grief over the lost life, hopes and dreams. It’s why the suicide rate among returning vets is so high.”
Suddenly, he looked dismayed. She saw him trying to get his emotions under control.
“She’s suicidal? I mean, that does make sense. Been there. But how did she go from trying to protect me two days ago to not caring the same night?”
“Well, that’s the $64,000 question, isn’t it? My guess would be that it got triggered when Pevey threatened her. Up to that point, she’d been slowly exploring the idea that maybe she had some control over her life. Suddenly, he took that control away and thrust her back into an environment where she-and you-had no control.”
She looked as his face as she said this, and realized she’d hit a nerve when she saw a haunted look come over him. He nodded. She could see him drift away into his own thoughts and memories.
After a moment, she said, “Greg?”
His eyes refocused and he took in a sharp breath.
“I’m with you,” he said. Barely, but with you.
“The other thing, and you’ve probably figured this out yourself, is that depression is so often actually all about anger, usually about anger that has no healthy outlet. She, like you, is furious about what was done to her. And, in her case, what was also done to her husband and child. But she doesn’t feel there’s a healthy way to vent that anger. So it stays inside and eats at her. As I know it does with you.”
It was one thing for him to open up to Rainie, who was so fragile and whose experiences were so like his, but it was quite another for Jacey Liu to peer into his soul without permission. He felt thrown off balance.
“And don’t bother rationalizing why this isn’t true for you,” she said, disconcertingly. “It is, and you know it.”
He looked right at her. “I hate you,” he said, his eyes narrowing into slits.
She laughed. “Well, that’s a start. But what are we going to do about Rainie? Got any ideas?”
“Based on what you said, the only thing I can think of is to make her angry.”
“That’s one approach. The other is to keep calling her on her behavior. Or both. You’ve said it a number of times: You understand her better than anyone else could. Don’t be afraid to tell her the truth-it’s never stopped you with anyone else.”
Somehow it was easier to tell the blunt, unvarnished truth as he saw it when he was talking to his staff or to Wilson or Cuddy. Rainie was different. He told her the truth, but it was a different truth-the truth about their situation, and the truth about himself. In this case, he wasn’t totally sure what the truth was. So he ignored that part of the conversation and skipped back.
“The anger thing. Is that really a good idea?”
“Frankly, I don’t think it can hurt. If she stays this way for very long, she’s going to make herself more ill. And what you and I both want for her is to find some kind of peace with her situation.
“It’s like the stages of grief-because, well, actually, that’s what it is-she’s grieving over her lost life. She’s already done denial, while she was in the midst of it and immediately after. She’s experiencing some depression, and for all we know, she may have done some bargaining. The only real anger either of us has seen with her has been the times she stuck up for you in court.”
“Which brings up the other thing,” said House, almost hesitant to bring it up. “This is the first time she seems to be rejecting me personally. Am I handling this wrong? Or is it like a kid who’s off to school, bound and determined to let mom know she’s not needed anymore?”
Jacey Liu looked at him sharply. He was usually so perceptive.
“Not sure,” she replied, tentatively, deciding as she spoke to forge on ahead as tactfully as she could. “Might be something entirely different. Don’t forget, she’s lost almost all the people she loves. Often when that happens, survivors start trying to push away anyone they develop feelings for, to try to protect themselves from what they are convinced will become the inevitable loss. Sound familiar?”
Oh, yes, thought House. He might not be a survivor in the same way, but he understood the concept. Stacy. And virtually everyone else since then. Except Rainie. It dawned on him that he’d never once been inclined to push her away, probably because of their shared tragedy, and because she was so very fragile.
Now, at least, her rejection made some sort of sense. She’d grown to care about him-that was obvious from how she’d behaved in court-and somehow Pevey’s attack made her feel that it was safer to keep him at arm’s length.
So was there any way to convince her that she wouldn’t lose him, too? The scientist in him said of course not. Neither of them could control accidents or illness. And the part of him that had spent years doing the rejecting also said of course not. She couldn’t risk letting him get too close, because it would hurt too much.
He hated this kind of crap.
NEXT: It Hurts Too Much...