House had admitted Cuddy under his name into one of the rooms that was still available. Though she was in critical condition, it wasn't enough to put her into ICU.
It had been two hours since her cough attack in the office, and she was resting fast asleep in her room with of course, House standing by. He had been sitting at her bedside for the whole two hours she was there. He had pulled up a chair from the corner of the room, and sat close to her. Within those two hours, he had fallen asleep, head had dropped onto the bed as he was holding her hand. Eventually, she woke up, and saw him sleeping, with his head on her stomach. She smiled for a moment and then took her free hand, to run her fingers through his hair. After a few seconds, he rose up his head and looked around sleepily, grinding his teeth. And he looked towards Cuddy he was half smiling at him as he was coming to.
"Why are you still here."
"Why are you awake?"
"It's almost six."
"And your point being?"
"Go home. Get proper rest. Go take care of the baby."
"I don't have a home. I have an apartment. And your house. Those aren't homes, those are merely buildings created for living and shelter. And I've gotten all the rest I need. I'm picking her up at six."
"And you have to go home with her, and not drop her off at my moms' place."
"Actually I was planning to just, throw her in a dumpster. You know."
"Stay with her for me."
"I'm bringing her to my mom."
"Who lives fifteen to twenty minutes away?"
"She's staying at my place. Or she will be at six."
"I don't want you staying here, twenty four/seven. You don't need to. I'm under perfect care."
"Who said I need to."
She stopped fighting with him. She knew there was no point in arguing, as he had already made up his mind. They stood in silence for a while. They just stared at each other. He was inhaling and exhaling quick amounts of air, almost as if he were angry.
"I hate this."
"I know. You should go pick her up."
He sighed. He stood up, being careful of his leg, and found to his surprise they were still holding hands. He looked at her, sincerely, before bending down and giving her a kiss. It was the first real one they had in a long time. After he released, he kissed her on the forehead before taking off.
"I'll be back."
He wasn't certain why he said this, for she knew he would. I guess, with the situation at hand, he felt the need to be reassuring. She gave a nod, and let go of his hand as he limped out of the room and out of her sight.
:::
6:24 p.m.
"She's sick mom."
House was back in his apartment sitting on the couch with Blythe as Rachel sat on her lap. Blythe was trying her best to process the news, but she couldn't.
"How sick, Greg."
"Lung cancer."
"Oh God."
"She's terminal."
"How long does she have?"
"A few months maybe. She's just--"
"I'm sorry honey."
She held her little boys' hand as they sat together on the couch. There was a long pause between them. The only sound that echoed through the apartment was Rachel, who was cooing and making spit noises. But eventually, House brought up the courage to ask what not many people could answer, and make the answer being something he believed in.
"I don't--uh. I don't know what to do."
"There's nothing you can do."
"Not like that. I don't, know what to do when she's gone."
"Well. You live your life."
She paused, and gave him a moment to think about that before continuing.
"When she's gone--you can mourn. You can grieve. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if you shed a few tears. But--you will need to move on. Not because you want to, or because you've accepted--it, but because it's the right thing to do. Even though she's gone, she knows you. And I'm sure, that she doesn't want you wasting your life away because of this. It's the circle of life, hun. We're born, we live, we die. And life goes on."
"And what should I be saying to her?"
"You sound like such a lost little boy. Asking all these questions like you did when you were younger. There's no right or wrong answer here, Greg. You have to trust yourself sometimes. You tell her, what you think you should be telling her. Tell her, you love her. That you'll be there. Don't let her see you grieving for the last moments of her life. She wants to see you happy, as I'm sure you would the same. Now get out of here. I got this little one covered."
He smiled at his mother and gave her a kiss on the forehead for old times sake, and left, off to do something he's never done before.
It had been two hours since her cough attack in the office, and she was resting fast asleep in her room with of course, House standing by. He had been sitting at her bedside for the whole two hours she was there. He had pulled up a chair from the corner of the room, and sat close to her. Within those two hours, he had fallen asleep, head had dropped onto the bed as he was holding her hand. Eventually, she woke up, and saw him sleeping, with his head on her stomach. She smiled for a moment and then took her free hand, to run her fingers through his hair. After a few seconds, he rose up his head and looked around sleepily, grinding his teeth. And he looked towards Cuddy he was half smiling at him as he was coming to.
"Why are you still here."
"Why are you awake?"
"It's almost six."
"And your point being?"
"Go home. Get proper rest. Go take care of the baby."
"I don't have a home. I have an apartment. And your house. Those aren't homes, those are merely buildings created for living and shelter. And I've gotten all the rest I need. I'm picking her up at six."
"And you have to go home with her, and not drop her off at my moms' place."
"Actually I was planning to just, throw her in a dumpster. You know."
"Stay with her for me."
"I'm bringing her to my mom."
"Who lives fifteen to twenty minutes away?"
"She's staying at my place. Or she will be at six."
"I don't want you staying here, twenty four/seven. You don't need to. I'm under perfect care."
"Who said I need to."
She stopped fighting with him. She knew there was no point in arguing, as he had already made up his mind. They stood in silence for a while. They just stared at each other. He was inhaling and exhaling quick amounts of air, almost as if he were angry.
"I hate this."
"I know. You should go pick her up."
He sighed. He stood up, being careful of his leg, and found to his surprise they were still holding hands. He looked at her, sincerely, before bending down and giving her a kiss. It was the first real one they had in a long time. After he released, he kissed her on the forehead before taking off.
"I'll be back."
He wasn't certain why he said this, for she knew he would. I guess, with the situation at hand, he felt the need to be reassuring. She gave a nod, and let go of his hand as he limped out of the room and out of her sight.
:::
6:24 p.m.
"She's sick mom."
House was back in his apartment sitting on the couch with Blythe as Rachel sat on her lap. Blythe was trying her best to process the news, but she couldn't.
"How sick, Greg."
"Lung cancer."
"Oh God."
"She's terminal."
"How long does she have?"
"A few months maybe. She's just--"
"I'm sorry honey."
She held her little boys' hand as they sat together on the couch. There was a long pause between them. The only sound that echoed through the apartment was Rachel, who was cooing and making spit noises. But eventually, House brought up the courage to ask what not many people could answer, and make the answer being something he believed in.
"I don't--uh. I don't know what to do."
"There's nothing you can do."
"Not like that. I don't, know what to do when she's gone."
"Well. You live your life."
She paused, and gave him a moment to think about that before continuing.
"When she's gone--you can mourn. You can grieve. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if you shed a few tears. But--you will need to move on. Not because you want to, or because you've accepted--it, but because it's the right thing to do. Even though she's gone, she knows you. And I'm sure, that she doesn't want you wasting your life away because of this. It's the circle of life, hun. We're born, we live, we die. And life goes on."
"And what should I be saying to her?"
"You sound like such a lost little boy. Asking all these questions like you did when you were younger. There's no right or wrong answer here, Greg. You have to trust yourself sometimes. You tell her, what you think you should be telling her. Tell her, you love her. That you'll be there. Don't let her see you grieving for the last moments of her life. She wants to see you happy, as I'm sure you would the same. Now get out of here. I got this little one covered."
He smiled at his mother and gave her a kiss on the forehead for old times sake, and left, off to do something he's never done before.
When does Love become something we need, rather than something we want? Love was seen as something special a long time ago. Now Love is what we are expected to have with us everyday of our lives. Love is common currency when you are a teenager, but turns to worthless pennies the older you get. Do we not care about the substance of what Love was and not what it has been made into today by commercialisation from American movies and Television commercials and soap operas? Only when we experience Love for real, can we comment and judge others who are in Love. Love means something different to everyone. Not two people’s feeling of Love is the same. Why do we generalize, rationalize and compartmentalize Love? Love is and will continue to be an enigma. Only a handful of people will ever unlock it and witness its true beauty and essence. The essence we all crave.
Love.
Love.