readingrat (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
readingrat) wrote2015-09-26 10:46 pm
readingrat) wrote2015-09-26 10:46 pm
fic: House Community Festival — Imagine if ...?
Posted for the House Community Festival Imagine If? Challenge.
Prompt: Imagine if Stacy never interfered with House's initial surgery on his infarction ...
No Middle Ground
“I love you too,” she says. “I’m sorry.” And she means it.
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about,” Greg says.
A moment later he’s well and truly out, for which she’s thankful. She rises and goes over to Lisa. “That middle ground you were talking about?”
Lisa goes straight into medical-ese. “We go in, take out the dead muscle. There’s still some risk of reperfusion injury, but —“
“I was going to say, it’s not gonna happen,” Stacy interrupts her. “It’s not what he wants.”
“You’re sure about this? Because once he goes into cardiac arrest, it’ll be too late.”
Yes, she’s sure about it. While waiting for the anaesthetist to arrive she has had time to picture what’ll happen if she opts for the middle ground:
Greg will wake up from his medically induced coma and realize that she has gone against his stated wishes. He’ll take it out on her. It won’t matter that she'll have saved his life; it won’t matter that he'll still have his leg (or most of it); it won’t matter that even if he’d been right, he’d probably have been impaired and in pain for the remainder of his life; it won’t matter that he’d have done the same thing to her if their positions had been reversed. She’ll be able to bear rants, recriminations, open anger. But once the initial burst of heated fury has subsided, he’ll nourish a constant glow of resentment. He’ll bring up her treachery whenever they fight — and if he’s in constant pain, they’ll fight a lot, even more than they do now. He’ll pop his pain killers with a bitter glance in her direction, as though to say, It’s your fault that I need these, so don’t even think of questioning how many I take! (And there’s no doubt that he’ll take more painkillers than warranted if it’ll get her goat.) He’ll make her feel that she, not the infarction, is the direct cause of his disability.
And he’ll withdraw. She’s lonely already, because even when he’s around, he’s in a world of his own, a world of puzzles and conundrums, of weird associations and sudden drives. Oh, he’s brilliant, funny, sexy as hell, and unpredictable, but at the end of the day none of these qualities make for warm companionship. After the surgery, he’ll be brilliant, sarcastic, sexy as hell, and predictably bitter. And she’ll be lonelier than ever before, because if living with him till now has been a series of skirmishes, henceforth it’ll turn into a continuous and bloody battle.
He loves her, but not enough to sacrifice his leg in order to stay alive for her. She loves him, but not enough to turn her life into a living hell in order to save his.
“I’m sure,” she says to Lisa. Then she leaves the room. There’s nothing left for her to do here. She remains in the waiting area, nevertheless. Should Greg die, she’ll be where she’s expected to be. She’ll make arrangements for the funeral. She’ll comfort Blythe, tell John that his son was everything a father could have wished for, receive condolences, hold a funny and moving eulogy, and go through all the motions of a bereaved girlfriend, because that’s what she’ll be. (She doesn’t kid herself: if Greg is wrong about his leg, she’ll be heart-broken.)
Greg, however, is right — as usual. There’s a short period of panic when he goes into cardiac arrest again, but Lisa’s crash team, on duty at Greg’s bedside round the clock, swings into action in time to save him. One of Lisa’s doctors (Greg would call him a ‘serf’ or a ‘minion’) comes to her afterwards and asks her to sign off the amputation.
“If he goes into cardiac arrest again, he’ll die. A debridement isn’t an option anymore.”
Stacy shakes her head. “This is what he wanted.”
The 'minion’s' eyebrows rise. “It’s your call,” he says. When Stacy says nothing in response — there really is no adequate way to admit that you’re prepared to let your lover die of his sheer obstinacy — he turns away, saying, “You’re very strong.”
No, I’m weak, Stacy thinks. If she were strong, she’d save him and brave his anger, resentment, and bitterness. But she isn’t.
And ultimately, her weakness doesn’t matter, because after forty-eight hours it’s over.
Lisa comes to her, smiling. “We’re gonna wake him. We can’t say for sure that it’s over or whether there’ll be any permanent impairment of his leg until he’s fully awake, but it looks good. His EKG is fine; his organs are holding up. He was right.”
“Great!” Stacy says, a wave of relief washing over her. She rises, but she doesn’t follow Lisa to the ICU.
Lisa turns around at the door. “You can be there when he wakes up,” she says. “You don’t have to wait here.”
Stacy shakes her head. Her smile feels stretched. “I’m leaving,” she says.
Lisa nods understandingly. “You’ve been here for two days; you must be dead on your feet. But waking him won’t take more than —“
“I meant that I’m leaving Greg,” Stacy interrupts. “I’m going home and packing.”
Lisa’s face falls and then freezes in a politely professional mask. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t realize . . . It’s none of my business.” She extends her hand. “I’m really sorry,” she repeats.
Aren’t we all? Stacy thinks. Because she knows how this will go if she stays:
In the beginning all will be well. Greg will be euphoric, having saved his leg and having proved that he was right once again. He’ll be grateful to her for following his wishes (not that he’ll have expected any less) and aware of what he’s put her through, so he’ll be attentive and charming in his crude, abrasive way. She’ll be relieved that it’s all over, so for a time she too will be able to ignore her bitterness over what happened. But slowly things will go back to normal; he’ll get lost in his cases and Wilson and whoever he happens to be messing with, and she’ll be alone again and her resentment will flare. She’ll have an affair. The first one will be with someone she wouldn’t normally touch with a ten-foot pole, just so she can return to Greg afterwards reassured that she still loves him and that he’s worth whatever he’s putting her through. Then there’ll be another affair, to convince herself that she’s still attractive and not staying with Greg because she has no other choice. After that there’ll be more affairs; ultimately one of them will be more than an affair, it’ll be love.
That’ll be the point where Greg (and Wilson and Lisa and anyone else who knows them) will wonder whether she followed his wishes because she respected them or because she didn’t care enough about him to contravene them.
She may as well leave now, while she sees clearly, before her mind is fogged by Greg’s charm and his sexiness and his ‘rightness’ for her. He’s The One for her, but unfortunately, she’s not The One for him. In an abstract way she has always known this, known that he’ll put his patients and his puzzles before his own well-being — but she hadn’t realized that he’d also put them before hers. What she didn’t see clearly before, maybe because his overwhelming presence dazzled her eyes, was that Greg’s single-mindedness isn’t the result of altruism or even of a warped sense of duty. Greg will always put himself first: his patients, his puzzles, his leg. He’s innately incapable of giving up anything that’s of importance to him for her sake. In fact, he’d rather die, as he has just proved.
And that’s why she has to leave now, before her self-esteem plummets any further and she accepts a relationship in which his needs will always range before hers.
Lisa’s voice penetrates the fog around her brain. “Will you come back to . . . to say goodbye to him before you leave?”
She shakes her head. She’s a coward, but let anyone who has braved Greg’s anger judge her. “Tell him . . . I said everything I wanted to say before he went into the coma.”
Prompt: Imagine if Stacy never interfered with House's initial surgery on his infarction ...
No Middle Ground
“I love you too,” she says. “I’m sorry.” And she means it.
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about,” Greg says.
A moment later he’s well and truly out, for which she’s thankful. She rises and goes over to Lisa. “That middle ground you were talking about?”
Lisa goes straight into medical-ese. “We go in, take out the dead muscle. There’s still some risk of reperfusion injury, but —“
“I was going to say, it’s not gonna happen,” Stacy interrupts her. “It’s not what he wants.”
“You’re sure about this? Because once he goes into cardiac arrest, it’ll be too late.”
Yes, she’s sure about it. While waiting for the anaesthetist to arrive she has had time to picture what’ll happen if she opts for the middle ground:
Greg will wake up from his medically induced coma and realize that she has gone against his stated wishes. He’ll take it out on her. It won’t matter that she'll have saved his life; it won’t matter that he'll still have his leg (or most of it); it won’t matter that even if he’d been right, he’d probably have been impaired and in pain for the remainder of his life; it won’t matter that he’d have done the same thing to her if their positions had been reversed. She’ll be able to bear rants, recriminations, open anger. But once the initial burst of heated fury has subsided, he’ll nourish a constant glow of resentment. He’ll bring up her treachery whenever they fight — and if he’s in constant pain, they’ll fight a lot, even more than they do now. He’ll pop his pain killers with a bitter glance in her direction, as though to say, It’s your fault that I need these, so don’t even think of questioning how many I take! (And there’s no doubt that he’ll take more painkillers than warranted if it’ll get her goat.) He’ll make her feel that she, not the infarction, is the direct cause of his disability.
And he’ll withdraw. She’s lonely already, because even when he’s around, he’s in a world of his own, a world of puzzles and conundrums, of weird associations and sudden drives. Oh, he’s brilliant, funny, sexy as hell, and unpredictable, but at the end of the day none of these qualities make for warm companionship. After the surgery, he’ll be brilliant, sarcastic, sexy as hell, and predictably bitter. And she’ll be lonelier than ever before, because if living with him till now has been a series of skirmishes, henceforth it’ll turn into a continuous and bloody battle.
He loves her, but not enough to sacrifice his leg in order to stay alive for her. She loves him, but not enough to turn her life into a living hell in order to save his.
“I’m sure,” she says to Lisa. Then she leaves the room. There’s nothing left for her to do here. She remains in the waiting area, nevertheless. Should Greg die, she’ll be where she’s expected to be. She’ll make arrangements for the funeral. She’ll comfort Blythe, tell John that his son was everything a father could have wished for, receive condolences, hold a funny and moving eulogy, and go through all the motions of a bereaved girlfriend, because that’s what she’ll be. (She doesn’t kid herself: if Greg is wrong about his leg, she’ll be heart-broken.)
Greg, however, is right — as usual. There’s a short period of panic when he goes into cardiac arrest again, but Lisa’s crash team, on duty at Greg’s bedside round the clock, swings into action in time to save him. One of Lisa’s doctors (Greg would call him a ‘serf’ or a ‘minion’) comes to her afterwards and asks her to sign off the amputation.
“If he goes into cardiac arrest again, he’ll die. A debridement isn’t an option anymore.”
Stacy shakes her head. “This is what he wanted.”
The 'minion’s' eyebrows rise. “It’s your call,” he says. When Stacy says nothing in response — there really is no adequate way to admit that you’re prepared to let your lover die of his sheer obstinacy — he turns away, saying, “You’re very strong.”
No, I’m weak, Stacy thinks. If she were strong, she’d save him and brave his anger, resentment, and bitterness. But she isn’t.
And ultimately, her weakness doesn’t matter, because after forty-eight hours it’s over.
Lisa comes to her, smiling. “We’re gonna wake him. We can’t say for sure that it’s over or whether there’ll be any permanent impairment of his leg until he’s fully awake, but it looks good. His EKG is fine; his organs are holding up. He was right.”
“Great!” Stacy says, a wave of relief washing over her. She rises, but she doesn’t follow Lisa to the ICU.
Lisa turns around at the door. “You can be there when he wakes up,” she says. “You don’t have to wait here.”
Stacy shakes her head. Her smile feels stretched. “I’m leaving,” she says.
Lisa nods understandingly. “You’ve been here for two days; you must be dead on your feet. But waking him won’t take more than —“
“I meant that I’m leaving Greg,” Stacy interrupts. “I’m going home and packing.”
Lisa’s face falls and then freezes in a politely professional mask. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t realize . . . It’s none of my business.” She extends her hand. “I’m really sorry,” she repeats.
Aren’t we all? Stacy thinks. Because she knows how this will go if she stays:
In the beginning all will be well. Greg will be euphoric, having saved his leg and having proved that he was right once again. He’ll be grateful to her for following his wishes (not that he’ll have expected any less) and aware of what he’s put her through, so he’ll be attentive and charming in his crude, abrasive way. She’ll be relieved that it’s all over, so for a time she too will be able to ignore her bitterness over what happened. But slowly things will go back to normal; he’ll get lost in his cases and Wilson and whoever he happens to be messing with, and she’ll be alone again and her resentment will flare. She’ll have an affair. The first one will be with someone she wouldn’t normally touch with a ten-foot pole, just so she can return to Greg afterwards reassured that she still loves him and that he’s worth whatever he’s putting her through. Then there’ll be another affair, to convince herself that she’s still attractive and not staying with Greg because she has no other choice. After that there’ll be more affairs; ultimately one of them will be more than an affair, it’ll be love.
That’ll be the point where Greg (and Wilson and Lisa and anyone else who knows them) will wonder whether she followed his wishes because she respected them or because she didn’t care enough about him to contravene them.
She may as well leave now, while she sees clearly, before her mind is fogged by Greg’s charm and his sexiness and his ‘rightness’ for her. He’s The One for her, but unfortunately, she’s not The One for him. In an abstract way she has always known this, known that he’ll put his patients and his puzzles before his own well-being — but she hadn’t realized that he’d also put them before hers. What she didn’t see clearly before, maybe because his overwhelming presence dazzled her eyes, was that Greg’s single-mindedness isn’t the result of altruism or even of a warped sense of duty. Greg will always put himself first: his patients, his puzzles, his leg. He’s innately incapable of giving up anything that’s of importance to him for her sake. In fact, he’d rather die, as he has just proved.
And that’s why she has to leave now, before her self-esteem plummets any further and she accepts a relationship in which his needs will always range before hers.
Lisa’s voice penetrates the fog around her brain. “Will you come back to . . . to say goodbye to him before you leave?”
She shakes her head. She’s a coward, but let anyone who has braved Greg’s anger judge her. “Tell him . . . I said everything I wanted to say before he went into the coma.”
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Fascinating little story - I love these sorts of alternative paths for canon events!
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