I've been reading a lot of stories that take place after Last Resort where Kutner was the one sitting at Thirteen's bedside instead of Foreman. While reading those I came up with two what-if questions. Enjoy...
Two What-Ifs
They’d been sitting in the conference room joking around. House had been off who-knows-where and he’d left the team with no specific orders other than to look busy. Foreman, who was determined to do work at work, was helping Cameron in the ER. Taub had gone to get a coffee. That left Kutner and Thirteen to their own devices.
“What are you going to do?” Kutner had asked silently praying it was something he could include himself in.
“I don’t know,” she’d answered. “What are you going to do?”
They’d played a few games of hangman and tic-tac-toe, and then they’d moved on to arm wrestling, and they’d been were surprisingly evenly matched. It had been her idea to make it interesting.
“The loser does the other guy’s clinic duty for the next week,” she’d said. Kutner hadn’t been sure he would win at the time, but he’d agreed because he’d thought if he didn’t she would get bored and leave. As it had turned out, that would have been better.
“Best of three,” Kutner had said when he’d lost the first round.
Kutner had come back to win the second round. When Kutner had been dangerously close to winning the third round he’d had a though. Let her win. Usually when guys liked girls they would let them win. Kutner had never understood why, but the thought had occurred to him. No, he’d thought. This is Thirteen, she wouldn’t want that. She’d probably just take it as an insult. As it had turned out, that would have been better too.
“My clinic duty starts in ten minutes,” Kutner had told her as he’d pushed her arm to the table. “Better get down there.” He hadn’t expected her to leave right then. He hadn’t wanted her to.
“Fine,” she’d said, grabbing her coat. “But we’ll finish this later. I’ll see you in an hour.”
He’d agreed and watched her leave the conference room and walk down the hall. He’d already started counting down the minutes until she’d be back.
Now he is sitting on a bench remembering. He remembers when he found out what was going on in the clinic. He remembers trying desperately to get downstairs. He remembers hearing the first gunshot, hearing the swat team come in, feeling his heart drop every time a hostage was released that wasn’t Thirteen. He remembers hearing the explosion. He remembers walking through the hole in the wall to where House was kneeling. He remembers House’s fingers on her neck, searching desperately for a pulse.
“He made her take it,” he remembers House muttering. “I can’t believe he made her take it.”
“It’s no use,” he remembers House saying when he called for the paddles. “It binds with proteins in the blood. Her heart is already dead. This is Amber all over again.”
He remembers standing there numbly until someone guided him away. He remembers Dr. Cameron looking down at him sympathetically.
“You loved her, didn’t you,” he remembers her asking. He remembers nodding. “I’m so sorry,” he remembers her reply.
He remembers this while he’s doing clinic duty, the clinic duty that she had taken from him in an arm wrestling contest.
What if it had been Kutner’s fault she’d been in the clinic that day?
What if she died?
Two What-Ifs
They’d been sitting in the conference room joking around. House had been off who-knows-where and he’d left the team with no specific orders other than to look busy. Foreman, who was determined to do work at work, was helping Cameron in the ER. Taub had gone to get a coffee. That left Kutner and Thirteen to their own devices.
“What are you going to do?” Kutner had asked silently praying it was something he could include himself in.
“I don’t know,” she’d answered. “What are you going to do?”
They’d played a few games of hangman and tic-tac-toe, and then they’d moved on to arm wrestling, and they’d been were surprisingly evenly matched. It had been her idea to make it interesting.
“The loser does the other guy’s clinic duty for the next week,” she’d said. Kutner hadn’t been sure he would win at the time, but he’d agreed because he’d thought if he didn’t she would get bored and leave. As it had turned out, that would have been better.
“Best of three,” Kutner had said when he’d lost the first round.
Kutner had come back to win the second round. When Kutner had been dangerously close to winning the third round he’d had a though. Let her win. Usually when guys liked girls they would let them win. Kutner had never understood why, but the thought had occurred to him. No, he’d thought. This is Thirteen, she wouldn’t want that. She’d probably just take it as an insult. As it had turned out, that would have been better too.
“My clinic duty starts in ten minutes,” Kutner had told her as he’d pushed her arm to the table. “Better get down there.” He hadn’t expected her to leave right then. He hadn’t wanted her to.
“Fine,” she’d said, grabbing her coat. “But we’ll finish this later. I’ll see you in an hour.”
He’d agreed and watched her leave the conference room and walk down the hall. He’d already started counting down the minutes until she’d be back.
Now he is sitting on a bench remembering. He remembers when he found out what was going on in the clinic. He remembers trying desperately to get downstairs. He remembers hearing the first gunshot, hearing the swat team come in, feeling his heart drop every time a hostage was released that wasn’t Thirteen. He remembers hearing the explosion. He remembers walking through the hole in the wall to where House was kneeling. He remembers House’s fingers on her neck, searching desperately for a pulse.
“He made her take it,” he remembers House muttering. “I can’t believe he made her take it.”
“It’s no use,” he remembers House saying when he called for the paddles. “It binds with proteins in the blood. Her heart is already dead. This is Amber all over again.”
He remembers standing there numbly until someone guided him away. He remembers Dr. Cameron looking down at him sympathetically.
“You loved her, didn’t you,” he remembers her asking. He remembers nodding. “I’m so sorry,” he remembers her reply.
He remembers this while he’s doing clinic duty, the clinic duty that she had taken from him in an arm wrestling contest.
What if it had been Kutner’s fault she’d been in the clinic that day?
What if she died?