Author's Note: Mollisk: I was debating whether or not to kill Cameron. But then I kind of felt bad about killing House off and then her…it would've been a bit morbid. Thanks for everyone's reviews…stay tuned for a six-part character study of the characters by one another and a one-shot Cuddy POV piece. (Sorry for all the tense changing in this chappie. He's dead—grammar's not important.)
Part III: Past, Present, Future (Beginning, Middle, End)
I took a guess and cut a portion out of my heart
He said that's nowhere close enough but it's a damn good start
I wrote the secret that I buried on the wishing well wall
He said I've seen one... it follows that I've seen them all
We spoke of human destination in a perfect world
Derived the nature of the universe (found it unfulfilled)
As I took him in my arms he screamed I'm not insane
I'm just looking for someone to understand my pain...
--Five for Fighting, "The Devil in the Wishing Well"
So, the story ends with Part III, a summation of the facts. The closing argument. The catalyst's force is not felt and people return to normal. Lies are corrected and truths are finally told. Rights are wronged and righted again and everything and everyone keeps tumbling, tumbling through the universe. It's gravity and solar wind that makes us tumble…
But essentially it's time that makes us stumble on our own two (supposedly) secure feet. Time moves on and on…slowly, progressively, but always moving. It's time that eases aches, it's time that puts houses in front of the sea, it's time that makes us change…grow…and accept.
Death is not something I am going to wax poetic about tonight. It's a terrible feeling and I don't expect living people to understand. How can you explain something so…gruesome...to people who believe in their own immortality? (God, I'm worse than a General Hospital episode. I miss that show.)
Time, it seems, is not a property that is pertinent in the winter season. It's simply a (pardon the pun) waste of time to dwell on time because you're stuck here for all eternity. What's the reason to tell time? Differentiate between eons?
But, at Princeton-Plainsboro, time passes. It is no longer marked by the anniversary of death, but by the anniversary of birth, love, and, at some point, death again. A tennis match is played, lost, and played again. Mays pass and Cameron sheds her tears. My grave becomes overgrown; Cuddy screams at the landscapers.
Ultimately, this was never my story. It was about everyone else and their battles with the soul and demons that I wasn't there to antagonize. No, this was never about me.
Cameron wanted a wounded puppy to fix that night. I wanted a lot of alcohol and foggy (not crystal clear) memories of Stacy. She asked me to meet her at the bar. The girl scouts were calling: they wanted to know how many brownie points she had accumulated over the month. She mustn't have had enough; she needs me—a charity case.
It was my fault. I've always been…noble...when someone's honor is at stake (or, of course, when assholes take advantage of other people—that's my territory). So, be a crippled hero and throw yourself on a guy who's got a one-leg advantage…didn't somebody say something about the smartest people being the ones with the least common sense?
So, Florence Nightingale swooped in and tried to fix me with a bunch of paper napkins, but it didn't do any good. She wasted her time and probably ruined a very nice and expensive suit. But, hey, at least Cuddy felt guilty about the whole thing even when none of it was her fault (so that's how I was supposed to get her to let me off clinic duty.)
Reminiscing on death when one's dead is of no use. I'm dead, there's nothing I can do to change that. Reminiscing on the living, however, is what is known in the living world as "gossip." Who ever said gossip was something Gregory House refrained from?
So, Wilson finally came around and decided that raising Cameron and Steve-the-ER-whore's kid would be a good idea. He lives with her now and everyone considers them to be a married couple (except for the fact that they're not married.) Both happily retained their jobs, although Steve (yes, Mr. Fuck-the-Dean-of-Medicine-and-then-anyone-else-with-a-vagina) suffered the consequences of screwing around (hehe, literally and figuratively) with Cuddy. Badda bing, badda boom.
Oh, yes darling Dr. Cuddy. She finally stopped having her dreadful hallucinations after she finally confronted Wilson and Cameron about what was going on between those two. The dogs receded, she regained her sanity, and Steve was fired. Yes, all is well with Dr. Cuddy.
Foreman works quietly in the hospital. He does his job, is good at what he does, and then goes home at night. He dates, but not often. He spends Friday nights with a basketball game (some of fall, winter, and into summer) or a baseball game (summertime and early fall.) He lives a happy life. Good for him.
Chase flirted with Stacy until she and Mark left the hospital. Those two made me sick. A secret: Stacy's quite a bit older than darling Dr. Chase. He brooded before meeting some hot young lawyer at a bar one night. Needless to say they're happily married with several little Chase's running around. All just as cute as their dear father. It makes me all warm and tingly inside (well, if I was capable of feeling in my crippled leg.) But hey, the world needs more good-looking people. Pay doctors and teachers pennies and give the pretty people millions. Jesus, they already got the looks!
But time moves in its happy little cycles and birth and death become one and the same. That night that Wilson and Cameron laid on the roof side-by-side, I wished that she had jumped. It's lonely here and if I was voluntarily lonely when I was alive, I secretly hoped that I would not be alone here. But when I discovered I was—I couldn't help but cheer Cameron on when she stood on the edge of the roof, even if she I knew she wouldn't drop. She's an atheist—she didn't believe that I would be waiting on the other side for her.
It's here I wait, for her, for Cuddy, for Wilson…wait. That's all one can do. Store up the sarcasm for when it's needed and take up knitting (well, coming up with reasons not to take up knitting). And as I wait, I watch Cameron and Wilson together. I don't believe in God, but fate's a nice concept.
She has me because she holds on to my cane. My impediment—her savior. She may have once blamed herself for my death, but she has Wilson now. He's healed most of her wounds…
And time has healed the rest.
End Part III