misanthrope_md | for Jack

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jack

for Jack

It wasn't exactly a bad pain day. It was a bad pain month.

There were two things that helped with the pain, that had once been in House's life and no longer were: the first was drugs, and the second was sex. He blamed the island for both. No pharmacies and no prostitutes.

He wouldn't blame Pam for the second, since he knew she was a hell of a lot better off without him, especially since she'd gone back on the wagon. He'd been a bad influence on her, and though he didn't want to admit to himself that he was actually doing a selfless act, making himself scarce after what had happened on New Years was probably the best thing he could have done for her. After all, he hadn't had sex sober since before he'd gone off the heroin, and he had no intention of starting now.

Of course, that would presume that he was having sex with anyone. Well, anyone besides his right hand. Besides, he'd seen Pam with that guy. He should have known she was a cougar at heart.

So. Bad pain month. But it was the middle of the night and he couldn't sleep and it was the last fucking straw. "Come on, Fucker," he muttered, slipping into his shoes and watching the big dog run in a circle in the hut and then taking him outside into the night air.

It was one of those nights when it seemed like walking was better than being still, if only because the movement in his muscles distracted him from the aching in them. He didn't really have a destination in mind, so he just let Padfoot lead him. It wasn't until they were halfway up the path toward it that he realized the dog was leading him straight to Bohemia.

"Traiter," he muttered to the dog, and started to yank on his leash and turn them back around, but his eye caught sight of the bathhouse. The one he hadn't been in because, well fuck, because Jack built it.

But it was the middle of the damned night and if walking didn't help his leg, maybe hot water would. So he walked over and tied Padfoot's leash to a skinny tree. The dog immediately lay down, looking as if he were just as happy to go back to sleep.

House slipped into the bathhouse then. It was empty, obviously, and so he turned on the water and watched the tub fill and heat. He had to hand it to Jack, really. Okay, no he didn't. But that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy it.

He slipped out of his clothes and sank into the water then, trying to force his body to relax. All he wanted was to be something other than one big knot of pain.

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"Mmmm. Yet you didn't, you know, tell me about it. What's wrong, afraid the hubby doesn't want you fraternizing with the ex?"

He sank a little further into the water. "I'm naked under here, you know."

"I know he doesn't. Well, actually, he's the one who encouraged me to talk to you and try to work things out for a long time, but now he just wants me to stay away from you. He doesn't like it when I get in fights with you. Funny, don't you think?"

"Not really," House said, tilting his head back to rest of on the lip of the tub. "He's probably guessed about what great sex we used to have when we fought."

"Y'think?" Jack snorted. "I don't think he's got anything to worry about. I've kind of figured out the monogamy thing. Plus, you know, that one time after you and I broke up didn't really turn out that well."

House gritted his teeth a little. His attempt to hold onto what shreds of dignity he had left kept him from saying what he was thinking - what he was always thinking - which was that it was really fucking convenient that Jack had figured out monogamy now.

Though what didn't really help his dignity was that he heard himself muttering, "It wasn't always like that."

Against his better judgement, Jack walked closer to the tub and took a seat on one of the steps at the edge.

"I wish you didn't hate me," he said. "I know I really hurt you and you've got every right...but I wish you didn't."

House sighed and closed his eyes. There were a few different things he wanted to say floating around in his head. One was telling Jack he'd forgive him for a hand job. The other was asking whether he'd rather him love him instead.

These were both terrible ideas of course, and so what he said instead was, "As a wise philosopher once said, we can't always get what we want."

"Jagger, right?' Jack replied,smirking just a little. "You've told me that before."

"Mmmm," House agreed, still not looking at him. Eyes still closed, he sang softly, "But if you try sometimes you just might find, you get what you need..."

"What do you need, Greg? Really? I can't fix this, and I know you'd rather not even see me, but sometimes I wonder...is there some way I can apologize and make this, I don't know, better?"

Maybe it was a step in the right direction that House actually decided to tell the truth rather than a flippant response (even though that opening was really just begging for him to say 'blow me').

"I don't know."

"Yeah, me either," Jack said sadly. "I just...I am sorry, you know. I tried so hard for you and it just...I don't know. I don't know what went wrong. What broke."

and then, since he could almost read House's mind, still, he added-

"Other than my zipper."

"No," said House, not sounding flippant in the least. "It wasn't. If it were a question of that breaking, it would still be broken."

He paused, and then even though he really didn't want to say it, something compelled him to. "You know what went wrong, Jack. You didn't love me. I can't hate you for that."

"I did. I thought I did. I tried to," he replied, looking down at the floor. "I don't think there's anything I can say that wouldn't just make me sound like a dick. But I did...I tried."

House had no intention of opening his eyes and looking at Jack. "It's okay," he said, his voice entirely neutral. "It's not like you broke me, you just put me back to how I should have been all along."

"Did you? Love me?"he asked. "I mean...really?"

House did open his eyes and looked at Jack then. "Why are you asking me that if you're not going to like either answer?" he asked bluntly.

"Because I need to know. I need to know the answer, whether I like it or not," he said. "I know you loved James. I know you loved Stacy. Was it the same with us?"

"No," House said after a long pause. "It wasn't the same. But yes."

Another, longer pause.

"I did love you."

And he had no intention of saying anything else on the subject.

Jack licked his lips slowly and looked up to study House's face.

"I'm sorry, Greg. For what it's worth."

"Not as sorry as I am," House said bluntly.

He sighed, and then said, "We keep seeming to come back here, don't we? Over and over. It's exhausting, Jack. It's exhausting trying not to feel pathetic around you for how completely fucking miserable I am. I know that a good person would be happy that you're happy or some shit, but seeing you play house and remembering how you walked out the door just ties me up in knots. I know you're sorry, and I guess that should help me, but it doesn't."

"I know what you mean. We always wind up back here, with me saying I'm sorry and nothing really resolved. It ended badly. Maybe we should have ended it that night you caught me with Alcuin. When we had that fight. I don't know if that would have made it better or worse, though," Jack replied quietly.

"Or maybe I just shouldn't have taken you back after you left that night," House muttered, and closed his eyes again.

"Also a reasonable solution," he said. Jack fidgeted a little, then gripped his towel in the other hand.

"I should just go. You came here to relax, not rehash the past."

"Actually I think you did what you were supposed to," House mumbled. "Pain gates." After all, one kind of pain distracts you from another. And he hadn't thought about the throbbing in his leg for the past few minutes.

"Dredging up the past makes your leg hurt less?" he asked incredulously. "Hell, House, maybe I should have you over for tea once a week. Call it physical therapy."

House snorted. "Nah, too temporary to do much good." Though the mere fact that he was here in the middle of the night was probably a pretty good indication that the pain situation was pretty bad right now.

"It must be bad...unless you've just taken to walking fucker at night," he replied.

"Yeah," House admitted, "it's bad. Though hey, on the bright side, at least that's not something you have to feel guilty about."

"I guess not. I still don't like to see you in pain. I'm not heartless,' he replied.

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