Reunions, Chapter Fourteen
Aug. 15th, 2011 01:38 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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house_wilson_ghctitle: Reunions
author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sydpenguinbunny
pairing: House/Wilson, 13/[surprise]
rating: PG-13, thus far
summary: House is trying to continue his life without incident after the events from S7, but people from his past keep coming back...
warnings (if any): Spoilers for 7x23. There's some character death coming up eventually.
author/artist notes (if any): Feedback is most loved!!!
Chapter One: Case Study
Chapter Two: Complications
Chapter Three: Hello Again, Dr. House
Chapter Four: Complete History
Chapter Five: New Hire
Chapter Six: Reluctance
Chapter Seven: Power
Chapter Eight: Pinballs
Chapter Nine: A Girl Worth Fighting For
Chapter Ten: Sparring Match
Chapter Eleven: Pick Up the Pieces
Chapter Twelve: A Turn for the Worse
Chapter Thirteen: The Answer Is...
Chapter Fourteen: Simple Request
Thirteen’s mouth was dry. Her palms were sweating. She was staring at the whiteboard in shock, seeing the symptoms seem to run at her, as if they were chasing her. They were getting blurry and the marker was running and House was looking at her now and telling her to just go and she couldn’t just go because she couldn’t seem to make her legs move, they were starting to hurt…
Then somehow, like a parachuter pushed out of a moving plane, she was walking towards Tritter’s room with the charts and paperwork listlessly hanging dead in her hand. She could hear white noise in both her ears, getting into her thoughts and pulling the blinds over, muffling all the sounds.
She was in Tritter’s room, staring down at him – the damage that only hours had done was now apparent on his face, and she winced as she took a step forward and tried desperately to will her mouth to move, for words to come out.
This was never easy, but this was harder.
She realized in that split second why someone should never get involved with their patient, never fall in love with their patient – it wasn’t all because of objectivity or ethics but because the human heart cannot tell someone they love that they are dying.
Dying, just like me.
She opened her mouth and tried to think of what to call him. The others just called him “Tritter”, always with a hint of derision and a snort – except for House in those last words, where the name had been said softly, maybe with respect and some resignation. “Detective Tritter” was just too… something, Thirteen didn’t know quite what.
She opened her mouth and made the “M” sound, almost calling him “Michael” before chickening out and saying barely above a whisper, “Mr. Tritter?”
Tritter’s eyes flew open at Thirteen’s voice, and he seemed to immediately sense the danger in her tone – he is a cop, after all, Thirteen thought, he can see this shit coming a mile away.
“We ran… some tests, on you and Candy,” her voice was faltering, rising and falling like it was riding a roller coaster – one that was about to derail and leave the hapless kiddies suspended in mid-air for hours while the cops had to come and rescue everybody.
“Is Candy going to be okay?” Tritter asked. Thirteen looked at him, trying to hide the wry smile that was trying to force its way on to her lips.
“Candy has Hepatitis B,” Thirteen replied quietly. “We can treat her with anti-retrovirals and she’ll be okay. And… you have Hepatitis B, too. You must have caught it from casual contact, either here in the hospital or from being in the same house.” She swallowed hard and her voice wavered as she continued, “The virus hit you much harder because you have a compromised immune system.”
“What do you mean?” Tritter asked, his eyes locked in confusion. She could almost see the wheels turning; he must have been bringing up the question Taub had asked him about the needle stick, must have been connecting, but he feigned ignorance and looked at her. “Like the boy in the bubble or something?”
“You’re HIV-positive,” Thirteen blurted and looked away. She couldn’t see his face, not when she told him this. “We can give you… medications to help treat it, help control it but your immune system is compromised, you will probably keep getting sick from opportunistic infections and I don’t think you’ll be able to go back to police work.” Her eyes went from the floor to the ceiling to the wall and finally back to Tritter, who was looking at her in disbelief and horror.
“Being a cop is all I have,” he said quietly. “I can’t do anything else. I don’t want to do anything else.”
Suddenly Thirteen was back standing at the foot of Amber’s hospital bed, looking at the woman she’d hated… well, maybe not hated – okay, let’s be honest, hated, and seeing her die while Thirteen realized that could be her, and would someone be standing there who hated her, too?
Amber hadn’t had any family there except Wilson – who else was even close to her? No parents, siblings, no one, she seemed to have cut all ties in her relentless pursuit of being right.
Was Tritter the same way? Other than Candy, who else was around who even cared about this man?
Well, now, Thirteen did, and she was staring into the face of … something, she wasn’t sure what. She’d shattered what could have been a relationship with Chase for a momentary lapse of reason with a man she barely knew and had every reason to hate, but she’d hated Amber and hated herself for hating her. How did she somehow love Tritter instead, if that was what it even was?
“You can find other things,” Thirteen whispered. “It’s not over.” She swallowed, and thought about everything she’d always believed about not sharing any of herself with the patient. It made things about you, not about them; it clouded objectivity; it didn’t help, it made things too personal – none of that mattered now, though. “I know how you feel,” she said softly, looking into Tritter’s eyes. “I have Huntington’s disease. I don’t know when things will get bad, but they will, and it’s scary as all hell. But I have to live with that and make my life mean something while I still have it – and you can, too. It’s not a death sentence. You can still do great things, Mr. Tritter, you can, okay?” Her voice was almost pleading now, and she stared at him, sure she would hear him throw it back in her face that yeah, maybe her situation sucks but it’s not his, and she shouldn’t compare her pain to his, and who really cares about her personal problems anyway and why are you telling me, does it look like I give a fuck?
But he didn’t say any of those things.
Instead he looked at her and he asked, “You could fiddle with my pain killers, couldn’t you? Make the dosage a bit too high?” His voice was quiet, but not wary, intent on agreement like he was interrogating a suspect for a crime where he already knew who the perpetrator was and what the answer was. That was the difference between House and Tritter, after all, Thirteen considered: Tritter has all the cards in his cases, doesn’t he? He doesn’t have symptoms, he has suspects.
“No,” Thirteen replied sharply, “I can’t.” Not again. Not for you.
“Can’t you? This is over – it’s over.”
“What about Candy?” Thirteen asked, “She’s going to walk out of here. Don’t you want to walk out of here with her?” Tritter looked at her a long moment and then swallowed, an unreadable expression going over his face.
“You’re right,” he said quietly. “When can I walk out of here?”
“Soon… A couple days max, maybe even a couple hours,” Thirteen replied quickly. “I’ll go confer with Dr. House and we’ll get you on anti-retrovirals and you’ll be good to go.” She forced a smile and looked at him again. “Is there anything else you need?”
“No,” Tritter replied, “I’m fine.” She turned to walk out the door. “Dr. Hadley?”
“Yeah?” Thirteen asked, turning back around.
“Thank you.”
author:
sydpenguinbunnypairing: House/Wilson, 13/[surprise]
rating: PG-13, thus far
summary: House is trying to continue his life without incident after the events from S7, but people from his past keep coming back...
warnings (if any): Spoilers for 7x23. There's some character death coming up eventually.
author/artist notes (if any): Feedback is most loved!!!
Chapter One: Case Study
Chapter Two: Complications
Chapter Three: Hello Again, Dr. House
Chapter Four: Complete History
Chapter Five: New Hire
Chapter Six: Reluctance
Chapter Seven: Power
Chapter Eight: Pinballs
Chapter Nine: A Girl Worth Fighting For
Chapter Ten: Sparring Match
Chapter Eleven: Pick Up the Pieces
Chapter Twelve: A Turn for the Worse
Chapter Thirteen: The Answer Is...
Chapter Fourteen: Simple Request
Thirteen’s mouth was dry. Her palms were sweating. She was staring at the whiteboard in shock, seeing the symptoms seem to run at her, as if they were chasing her. They were getting blurry and the marker was running and House was looking at her now and telling her to just go and she couldn’t just go because she couldn’t seem to make her legs move, they were starting to hurt…
Then somehow, like a parachuter pushed out of a moving plane, she was walking towards Tritter’s room with the charts and paperwork listlessly hanging dead in her hand. She could hear white noise in both her ears, getting into her thoughts and pulling the blinds over, muffling all the sounds.
She was in Tritter’s room, staring down at him – the damage that only hours had done was now apparent on his face, and she winced as she took a step forward and tried desperately to will her mouth to move, for words to come out.
This was never easy, but this was harder.
She realized in that split second why someone should never get involved with their patient, never fall in love with their patient – it wasn’t all because of objectivity or ethics but because the human heart cannot tell someone they love that they are dying.
Dying, just like me.
She opened her mouth and tried to think of what to call him. The others just called him “Tritter”, always with a hint of derision and a snort – except for House in those last words, where the name had been said softly, maybe with respect and some resignation. “Detective Tritter” was just too… something, Thirteen didn’t know quite what.
She opened her mouth and made the “M” sound, almost calling him “Michael” before chickening out and saying barely above a whisper, “Mr. Tritter?”
Tritter’s eyes flew open at Thirteen’s voice, and he seemed to immediately sense the danger in her tone – he is a cop, after all, Thirteen thought, he can see this shit coming a mile away.
“We ran… some tests, on you and Candy,” her voice was faltering, rising and falling like it was riding a roller coaster – one that was about to derail and leave the hapless kiddies suspended in mid-air for hours while the cops had to come and rescue everybody.
“Is Candy going to be okay?” Tritter asked. Thirteen looked at him, trying to hide the wry smile that was trying to force its way on to her lips.
“Candy has Hepatitis B,” Thirteen replied quietly. “We can treat her with anti-retrovirals and she’ll be okay. And… you have Hepatitis B, too. You must have caught it from casual contact, either here in the hospital or from being in the same house.” She swallowed hard and her voice wavered as she continued, “The virus hit you much harder because you have a compromised immune system.”
“What do you mean?” Tritter asked, his eyes locked in confusion. She could almost see the wheels turning; he must have been bringing up the question Taub had asked him about the needle stick, must have been connecting, but he feigned ignorance and looked at her. “Like the boy in the bubble or something?”
“You’re HIV-positive,” Thirteen blurted and looked away. She couldn’t see his face, not when she told him this. “We can give you… medications to help treat it, help control it but your immune system is compromised, you will probably keep getting sick from opportunistic infections and I don’t think you’ll be able to go back to police work.” Her eyes went from the floor to the ceiling to the wall and finally back to Tritter, who was looking at her in disbelief and horror.
“Being a cop is all I have,” he said quietly. “I can’t do anything else. I don’t want to do anything else.”
Suddenly Thirteen was back standing at the foot of Amber’s hospital bed, looking at the woman she’d hated… well, maybe not hated – okay, let’s be honest, hated, and seeing her die while Thirteen realized that could be her, and would someone be standing there who hated her, too?
Amber hadn’t had any family there except Wilson – who else was even close to her? No parents, siblings, no one, she seemed to have cut all ties in her relentless pursuit of being right.
Was Tritter the same way? Other than Candy, who else was around who even cared about this man?
Well, now, Thirteen did, and she was staring into the face of … something, she wasn’t sure what. She’d shattered what could have been a relationship with Chase for a momentary lapse of reason with a man she barely knew and had every reason to hate, but she’d hated Amber and hated herself for hating her. How did she somehow love Tritter instead, if that was what it even was?
“You can find other things,” Thirteen whispered. “It’s not over.” She swallowed, and thought about everything she’d always believed about not sharing any of herself with the patient. It made things about you, not about them; it clouded objectivity; it didn’t help, it made things too personal – none of that mattered now, though. “I know how you feel,” she said softly, looking into Tritter’s eyes. “I have Huntington’s disease. I don’t know when things will get bad, but they will, and it’s scary as all hell. But I have to live with that and make my life mean something while I still have it – and you can, too. It’s not a death sentence. You can still do great things, Mr. Tritter, you can, okay?” Her voice was almost pleading now, and she stared at him, sure she would hear him throw it back in her face that yeah, maybe her situation sucks but it’s not his, and she shouldn’t compare her pain to his, and who really cares about her personal problems anyway and why are you telling me, does it look like I give a fuck?
But he didn’t say any of those things.
Instead he looked at her and he asked, “You could fiddle with my pain killers, couldn’t you? Make the dosage a bit too high?” His voice was quiet, but not wary, intent on agreement like he was interrogating a suspect for a crime where he already knew who the perpetrator was and what the answer was. That was the difference between House and Tritter, after all, Thirteen considered: Tritter has all the cards in his cases, doesn’t he? He doesn’t have symptoms, he has suspects.
“No,” Thirteen replied sharply, “I can’t.” Not again. Not for you.
“Can’t you? This is over – it’s over.”
“What about Candy?” Thirteen asked, “She’s going to walk out of here. Don’t you want to walk out of here with her?” Tritter looked at her a long moment and then swallowed, an unreadable expression going over his face.
“You’re right,” he said quietly. “When can I walk out of here?”
“Soon… A couple days max, maybe even a couple hours,” Thirteen replied quickly. “I’ll go confer with Dr. House and we’ll get you on anti-retrovirals and you’ll be good to go.” She forced a smile and looked at him again. “Is there anything else you need?”
“No,” Tritter replied, “I’m fine.” She turned to walk out the door. “Dr. Hadley?”
“Yeah?” Thirteen asked, turning back around.
“Thank you.”
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Date: 2011-08-17 03:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-17 03:48 am (UTC)