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Post by Jackson on Feb 7, 2009 19:59:30 GMT -7
Jackson panted with the effort needed to breathe. Sweat dampened his hair, slick and limp and expressing just how close he was to the end of his rope. He didn't want intubation, he didn't want heroic measures. He didn't want to live on a machine. He signed the DNR, then he quietly but firmly told the doctors and nurses to go away. The nurses made sure he was comfortable, covered what was left of his legs with a sheet. He didn't want Angel to see that.
All he wanted was to see Angel one last time. It wasn't even for him. Angel needed to say good bye, and he knew he had to give Angel everything she needed before he went. He wasn't scared anymore. Where he went, all he knew was there would be no more pain. He didn't know what to expect, no one did. No one had ever gone beyond the veil, no one had ever gotten more than a glimpse of what happened when life let you go.
All he cared about was seeing Angel one last time. He could do it. He could forgive himself for being weak. He could forgive Angel for leaving him, for staying, for everything. He could make amends. He only wanted Angel to be happy. All the reasons in the world, all the right reasons and the wrong reasons, but they all led him to this point. This moment.
"Angel," he said, seeing her come in. He distantly recognized the gimpy doctor in the hallway with the pretty doctor who seemed too pale, too small buried in a man's blazer. Then the door swung closed behind Angel.
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Post by Dr. Gregory House on Feb 7, 2009 20:10:49 GMT -7
House nodded to Angel. She looked so small, so defiant in the wheelchair, staring up at them. "Two minutes." He felt like he was counting down Jackson's life in seconds. Short increments that either lasted forever, or withered away, forgotten in the recesses of a brain swelling and misfiring connections, trying to establish memory.
He stepped back from the moment. His friends had been here, at one time or another. Wilson as he held Cutthroat Bitch at her last moments. Cameron with her husband from long ago. They were no stranger to loss, none of them. His hand found Cuddy's and he wrapped his larger hands around hers. Blindly seeking, reaching out, holding on against the pain.
They stood witness, watching through glass as Angel wheeled herself to Jackson's side. House turned his head to look at Cuddy. What they saw of Angel and Jackson was something House wanted to avoid. He never wanted to have this happen to him. He sabotaged all his relationships because he feared this moment. And he realized that, he couldn't do this. He couldn't push Cuddy away. She was already cleaved to his heart, as he was to hers.
Try as he might, he couldn't find it in himself to run.
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Post by Dr. Lisa Cuddy on Feb 7, 2009 20:28:21 GMT -7
Cuddy looked on sadly, moving herself closer to House as he held on to her hand. This was real. Someone was dying in that room, and someone else cared. Shutting her eyes tightly against the vision of Angel going to Jackson's side, she turned her head away.
She turned away as much as she could, separating herself from what was playing out in the room. "Oh, God," she cried, holding tighter to House. "Oh, God..." It was too painful. To watch, to hear, to even know it was happening. If anything like this were to ever happen to House...she wasn't sure she'd be able to go on. She was sure he felt the same, so she didn't ask. Couldn't ask. "Don't ever leave me," she whispered, feeling a tear trailing down her cheek.
It was times like this, Cuddy realized, that made you appreciate your loved ones. Because you never knew when they wouldn't be there anymore.
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Post by Dr Angel Fraser on Feb 7, 2009 20:41:32 GMT -7
Angel wheeled herself over to Jackson's side, one hand stroking his pale cold cheek. "Shh..." She said, pressing her finger against his lips. She tried to keep back the tears she knew was coming. She looked over his body, noticed the sheet covering his legs. "Don't speak, let me do the talking." She whispered, getting as close to him as she could. "I only have two minutes before I'm going to be taken back for more tests."
She took a deep breath, wincing at the pain. "I forgive you Jackson." She said, taking hold of his hand. "All the times you hit me, it was the alcohol. I know who you are, deep down inside. You loved me, and I loved you. You are a beautiful person." A tear rolled down her cheek. "If you did manage to get the drinking under control, I would have married you. Please, I don't want you to die... I never wanted you to die. Please, don't leave me..." She sobbed, resting her head on his shoulder. She wanted to crawl into the bed with him, hold him one last time before the inevitable flat line sound. Her heart was breaking as she sat and wept, still clinging to his hand. "Don't leave me..."
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Post by Jackson on Feb 7, 2009 21:03:29 GMT -7
Jackson breath caught as he drank in Angel's bruised face. He listened to her talk, sad and glad at the same time. He weakly squeezed her hand as she sobbed over him. It was getting colder now, but it wasn't so bad. He was just falling asleep. It was just like falling asleep.
"I love you, Angel," he panted weakly, "but let me go. Live for yourself. Forgive yourself." He let her cries hit him, his walls down and embracing every last moment of her. He could still smell her hair even over the antiseptic of the hospital. "There's no one like you. Whoever gets you should know he's a lucky guy. I'm so glad I didn't kill you, and I'll watch over you, okay?
"I know, babe. I know you don't want me to die. I don't want to die either... but I don't want to go afraid. I want to go knowing I loved you. The best thing I ever did was to love you. I'm not scared. It's just like falling asleep..." Jackson's eyes closed, his last thought was Angel, smiling and dancing in sunlight. She beckoned to him, laughing. He pulled free of the darkness and followed her.
"I love you..." The tone of the flat-line droned out in the silent room as what made Jackson who he was... was suddenly gone.
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Post by Dr. Gregory House on Feb 7, 2009 21:19:36 GMT -7
House was not unaffected by the display that went on in Trauma Room Two. He hugged Cuddy to him, uncaring of who saw them in this embrace. He silently promised to Cuddy that he wouldn't leave her willingly. That he'd stay as long as he could.
When he heard the tone of the flat-line, he drew away from Cuddy, looking into her eyes for one impossibly long moment. Then he turned to his patient and co-worker. Walking through the swinging doors, he gently pulled Angel away from the body. Prying her fingers loose from the other man's cold, lifeless hand.
"Angel," he soothed, awkwardly. He pulled the wheelchair away from the body. He exchanged glances with Cuddy again, silently telling her to call it. The morgue doctor would have to come in, and Cuddy as Jackson's doctor would have to call time of death and sign the certificate of death. All the small things they did for the dead after they were long gone and couldn't care anymore.
He could only focus on the living, sobbing girl in his arms. Try to reason with her, knowing that grief had no reason. No reason at all.
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Post by Dr. Lisa Cuddy on Feb 7, 2009 21:33:54 GMT -7
As she was hugged, Cuddy breathed in House's scent, never wanting to forget. Never wanting to let go. Understanding his silence to be her answer, her absolution, she didn't resist when he pulled away. The tears threatened to come when their eyes locked, but she held them back. She had to. Slowly, she followed him into the room.
She nodded when he looked back at her. Glancing quickly at her wristwatch, she memorized the time, then waited as the morgue doctor was called up. Cuddy watched Angel cry, watched House comfort her, watched the doctors and nurses take out the IVs and wheel the machines away. Watched everything with a heavy heart and a hollow gaze. When the doors opened behind her and she heard her name called, she turned back. The morgue attendant was standing there, holding a clipboard.
"Time of death....six forty-five pm." Even her voice was hollow, emotionless. Time seemed to stop as she took the clipboard and signed the forms. As the attendant motioned for the doctors to wheel Jackson's body out, Cuddy sighed and walked over. Pulling the sheet up to cover his face, she waited until he was out of the room before turning to House and Angel.
"I'm sorry...." was all she could think of to say.
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Post by Dr Angel Fraser on Feb 7, 2009 21:48:32 GMT -7
The flat line sound buzzed through her mind, gnawing at her heart. "No... Jackson, please, don't leave me..." She sobbed, her eyes red from the tears she was spilling. She felt someone prying her fingers from around Jackson's hand and she let out a growl. Turning up she looked at House. "No, don't take me away from him, please..." She pleaded, watching as House pulled her away.
She didn't realize House was hugging her, she was too busy trying to come to terms with Jackson's death. "He's gone House.... He's really gone..." She whimpered, sniffling. "All the times I wished he was dead, when he was abusing me, when he was drinking... And now he's dead and I don't want him to be dead..." She babbled. She heard Cuddy give her condolances, but they were muted when she watched them remove the body from the room. Suddenly she felt hollow, numb. Sitting up in the wheelchair, she wiped away her tears. "Alright, admit and fix me." She whispered.
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Post by indiansfan01 on Feb 7, 2009 22:01:50 GMT -7
Wilson had met with his patient after House's call but as soon as she had left he had promptly cancelled all of his other meetings for the day. He had been waiting anxiously by his phone for going on twenty minutes when he realized that House wasn't going to be calling him back. Wilson wouldn't be allowed any vacation time only after a couple of days at his new job, so he did the only thing he could do. He quit.
He drove back to his apartment and grabbed his suitcases that he had never gotten around to unpacking yet. He threw them into his car and made his way back to New Jersey, breaking the speed limit to get there in a few hours.
It was ten before seven when he arrived. He asked the nurse at the front desk where Angel was, and Wilson found himself in the ER. The scene that greeted him was Cuddy standing by a covered body and House comforting Angel.
Wilson stood there for a moment, just watching the three of them. He finally walked into the room. "What happened?" Wilson asked, the question being directed to no one in particular.
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Post by Dr. Gregory House on Feb 7, 2009 22:28:43 GMT -7
The front of House's shirt was soaking wet from Angel's tears and snot. He didn't mind; he'd take this one for the team. When she pulled away and spoke, he nodded, glad she was going to take care of herself now, focus on her own healing. He stood, meeting Cuddy's eyes. He leaned on his cane and turned at Wilson's voice.
Wait. Wilson? What?
He stared at his best friend in the flesh and realized that he should have known. Wilson seemed to have that sixth sense that let him know that he was needed. Wilson would never change, and House thought in this case, it was okay. 'Cause Angel needed Wilson now, but it wasn't a bad kind of need. He thought it was a love that could grow into something good for Wilson and even Angel too.
"There was an accident," House finally said. He looked down at Angel. Grief still lined the curves of her body, it had an edge that he could taste himself. Thick and choking and an endless serial hurt that felt like it would never heal. That wasn't his to tell. The story was Angel's to share with Wilson.
He hobbled his way over to Cuddy, taking her hand in his. Cuddy looked exhausted, like she had a too long day that brought her to the edge of burnout. Not surprising, considering she had once plans to go to a spa weekend with Angel this very night. That wouldn't happen now.
"Come on, Cuddy," he murmured into her ear, "I'll get the ducklings to look after Angel, Wilson can take care of her. Let me take care of you." He wanted to take her home, let her have a bath, drink some hot cocoa, rub her feet. Let her go sleep. Even though it felt like they would all never sleep again.
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Post by Dr. Lisa Cuddy on Feb 7, 2009 22:45:19 GMT -7
Cuddy turned, shocked, when Wilson's voice broke the stillness. But she was glad he was back. She'd talk to him later, offer him back his old job...again. Right now, though, Angel needed someone who had felt her pain. She wouldn't take that away from either of them. Feeling House's hand on her's again, she looked up at him. Cuddy squeezed his hand, letting him know she could still respond. She probably looked like the living dead. She sure as hell felt like it.
She nodded a couple times as House spoke to her. "Yeah..." she muttered back. Still holding tightly onto his hand, she made her way out of the trauma room. Now that they were out of hearing range of everyone else in the ER, she sucked in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I don't know what I'd do if I ever lost you," she whispered, turning to him and wrapping her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. "I can't lose you." She couldn't stay at the hospital, not while the day's events were still fresh in her mind. "Take me home, Greg..." she mumbled, "but don't leave me." She pulled back slowly, hesitantly, her eyes shining with all the tears she refused to shed.
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Post by Dr Angel Fraser on Feb 7, 2009 22:52:36 GMT -7
Angel blinked a few times when she heard Wilson's voice. How had he known that the recent events had happened? She looked over at him with red, blotchy eyes. She heard House mention the accident, and then leave with Cuddy.
She slumped in her wheelchair, the mask she had just put on slowly breaking. "I don't remember everything.... It's still all hazy..." She started, looking up at Wilson again. "I lost him Wilson..." She whimpered, trying hard to hold back the tears. "I lost Jackson."
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Post by indiansfan01 on Feb 7, 2009 23:00:21 GMT -7
It was obvious that she had been in a car accident, and Wilson was glad that it looked like Angel hadn't been seriously injured. The same couldn't be said for Jackson...her boyfriend, Wilson thought from the way she was reacting. Wilson hunkered down on his knees so that he was at eye level with Angel. He hugged her gently.
"It's okay, Angel," he said, quietly. "I know---I know what you're going through."
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Post by Dr Angel Fraser on Feb 7, 2009 23:07:55 GMT -7
His embrace broke the dam she had built to keep the tears away. She began to sob into his shoulder, trying to come to terms with what had just happened. "I wasn't even dating him... I left him because of his drinking and violence... But I loved him." She whimpered, sniffling and sobbing.
"I didn't want him to die... Even though I said on occasions that I wished he was dead, I didn't mean it." She closed her eyes, but images of the night before flashed infront of them. "How did you cope? How did you manage?"
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Post by indiansfan01 on Feb 7, 2009 23:23:28 GMT -7
Wilson let her cry into his shoulder as he listened to her speak. When she was done talking, he pulled back so he could look into her eyes as he spoke. "I'll tell you what's going to happen. First, you're going to blame yourself. And then, after you've had numerous people tell you it's not your fault, you're going to blame God. Shortly after that, you're going to realize that it's no one's fault." Realizing that he hadn't answered her questions he added, "I know that Amber would've wanted me to go on with my life." That wasn't exactly an answer but it was the best thing Wilson could think of to say.
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[My5:]
[My5:]