It's not having what you want
It's wanting what you've got
Soak Up the Sun by Sheryl Crow

Chapter 5 - Alone

You settle into a comfortable routine with work and your new home life. You don't examine it or analyze it. Your work is satisfying, if somewhat mundane. You miss the challenge of figuring out the impossible, but you are doing good for your patients. Your relationship is satisfying too, if somewhat sedate. You wish there was more passion, more verve, but you are safe and comfortable.

It is simple.

It is easy.

It is boring.

You don't seek him out when you return to the hospital. You know it is only a matter of time before you cross paths. The hospital is only so big and he has a way of filling it with his presence that you won't try to deny. You are surprised it takes as long as it does for him to find you out. You tell yourself it's not disappointment you feel that he doesn't come to you immediately.

You hear stories about his games. You smirk and roll your eyes. It is the reaction most people expect from you. You try not to get involved. You don't want to be in the middle of that. Not because you disapprove, as so many people think. You don't want to let him in that much.

You find yourself lighting up when you feel him standing there, watching you. You hate yourself a little for it, but you let yourself feel it nonetheless. You mock him and tease him in a way that you never could before. You tell yourself that you are different now. You are no longer the pathetic little girl longing for his approval. You enjoy his visits. You feel like you can be witty and fun, without the pressures of the job and with no expectations about what might happen next. You wonder if this is how he and Wilson interact, and you congratulate yourself on being so mature and self-possessed.

You see him with one of the new fellows. She is very young, very pretty and he is very interested in her. You don't know in what capacity but you don't care. You hate her. Immediately, instinctively, irrationally. You hate her with a passion that you can't explain.

You go home that night and throw yourself at Chase. You try to abandon all thought, all feeling, anything but the moment. You are looking for some kind of escape, the kind of escape you felt when you were high and he came to you. You can't explain yourself when he asks what's gotten into you. You wake in the morning alone, he has already left for work, and you hate yourself even more than you hate her.

You go back to not thinking about it or acknowledging it until it is shoved in your face by a camera crew. You are working the second half of a very long double shift. You are tired and distracted. You barely even hear the words come out of your mouth. It is only after you've said them that they register.

You panic. You babble incoherently for nearly an hour trying to rationalize what you said. You practice and rehearse a ridiculous and painful speech over and over until you want to cry. Chase listens as politely as he can, but in the end he leaves you to your conscience.

You ignore it, and life goes on. You settle back into your comfortable routine and think that eventually you will forget. You pretend not to notice the quiet. You read and ignore the soccer game on the TV. You cook and wash dishes and nod at stories about surgery and make love and balance your checkbook.

You live a life you barely notice.

You don't know how long you would have gone on not thinking about anything, not noticing anything, not really living. You don't get the opportunity to find out. You aren't sure if you are grateful or spiteful.

You are in the elevator, on your way to the surgical suites to tell Chase you are pulling yet another double shift and not to expect you home. Wilson and Cuddy are getting on the elevator as you are exiting and you overhear a snippet of their conversation. Wilson tells Cuddy he thinks House has a thing for that psychiatrist. Cuddy remarks thank goodness she's at the South Pole, the last thing she needs is a love sick House moping around the hospital again.

You keep walking until you are around the corner. Sure no one will see you, you lean against the cool tiled wall and close your eyes. You feel hot jealousy twist your stomach and you realize that you haven't moved on at all.

You are exactly the same place you were a year ago, two years ago, three. You love a man who does not, cannot?, love you back. You have moved not one iota of space in all this time.

You are stuck.

You are trapped.

You are paralyzed.

And now you have taken a prisoner. You have bound yourself to Chase and locked him in your cell. While you are bound to House, neither of you can move on. You have to let Chase go.

You walk back to the elevator. You can't see him now; you aren't ready. You need time to think this over. You need to prepare. You need to convince yourself you aren't the coward you're afraid you are.

You go back to the ER and have Chase paged to meet you in the lobby. You know you will be able to keep up your pretense best if there are other people around to see you. Chase meets you by the reception desk. You talk for a brief moment; there is nothing special about your conversation. You tell him only that you have something to talk to him about. You lay your hand on his arm and smile at him. He smiles back, unable or unwilling to see the sadness in your eyes.

He leans in to place a chaste kiss on your cheek, and over his shoulder you see House across the lobby. He is standing completely still, head hung low to his chest. You feel his sadness from across the room and wonder if he can feel yours.

Chase rubs a hand down your arm and walks off toward the elevators.

House, sparing not so much as a glance in your direction, limps off heavily down the hall in the opposite direction.

You are torn between them, not even able to decide who to watch as they leave you.

You can't remember the last time you felt so alone.