Hold On

Chapter 16


He left Allison’s house shortly afterwards, both of them a bit uncomfortable and uncertain of how to act when waking up with each other after a strictly platonic night of comfort and cuddling. After talking with her about her memory, he’d begun to feel the walls closing in on him, and just wanted to get out. He had no idea what to do. One minute, he wanted to hold her and swear that nothing bad would ever happen to her again because he wouldn’t let it, and the next minute, he wanted to shove her away and get as far away as he possibly could from her and the confusion she seemed to bring with her. It felt as though he couldn’t quite catch his breath, couldn’t slow his thoughts down enough to make any sense of them, to put them back into the ordered boxes he was used to.

Although he had clothes in the trunk of the ‘vette and Allison certainly would have let him shower there if he’d asked, he went home to shower and change, and grabbed a coffee and donut on the way to work. After all, she would not be in to make coffee today. Her next shrink appointment wasn’t for another few days, and she was still on leave.

In three short weeks, his entire world had been sent spinning off-kilter. He was used to being in control, and everything that had happened to Allison, everything that was happening, was so far beyond his control that he wanted to turn around and run as far away as he could. But he couldn’t let himself run. He’d promised her he’d be there for whatever she needed. Somehow, he just couldn’t bring himself to break that promise.


The hands of the clock dragged. He didn’t know if time was moving so slowly because Cuddy had finally corralled him into doing some of his clinic hours himself, or because he was nervous about the afternoon. He’d never been to a line-up before. Not that he was going this time. They probably wouldn’t let him in with her, but he’d be right outside. Cuddy had no problem with allowing him to leave early, after he told her where he was going. She was still bending over backwards to do anything for Allison. He knew that while part of it was concern for potential lawsuits, not that Allison would sue anybody, but as administrator, it was Cuddy’s job to worry, the other part was concern for Allison, a desire to make things as easy for her as possible, and some misplaced guilt herself that such a thing could happen on the grounds of her hospital.

He left the hospital at two, although Allison’s house was only a few minutes away. He wasn’t sure if she was going to need calming or convincing to get her out the door, so he wanted to allow time for the unexpected.

He rang the bell, and she answered quickly, dressed comfortably in jeans and a tank top with her feet bare. “House! You’re early!”

“I figured I could talk you into making coffee. Chase and Foreman have no idea what to do with a coffee machine.”

“You could always make it yourself.” Allison smiled.

“But that would mean making it myself.” House protested. After all, coffee-making was one of the reasons he had underlings.

“Alright. I think I’ve got some fresh beans.”

She turned, and he noticed something white peeking out from behind the strap of her tank. He reached out and snagged the strap. “What’s that?”

She pulled away. “Nothing.”

“It looks like a bandage. Bandages aren’t nothing.”

“It isn’t anything you need to worry about.”

“It’s obviously something that requires a bandage. Bandages need to be changed eventually, and you can’t reach that one.”

“House!”

He didn’t say anything. He just folded his arms and glared, knowing she’d cave. He waited. Five, four, three, two…

“Fine. You want to look, go ahead.”

She turned around and slid the tank straps off her shoulders, allowing him to pull the back of the shirt low enough to reveal the entire bandage. Whoever had applied the dressing had done an excellent job.

As he peeled back the tape, he wasn’t sure what he was going to find. A scrape, a stab, a burn? What he found was the last thing he’d ever expected to find on Allison.

He found the most exquisitely beautiful tattoo he’d ever seen in his life. A phoenix rising from ashes and flames curled gracefully over her shoulder blade. The bird was fierce, delicate and graceful all at the same time. The art held all the feminine grace that was Allison, with a backbone of pure, fire tempered steel.

A tattoo didn’t seem like something he would associate with Allison. Remembering what Dr. Westein had said about potentially self-destructive and out of character behavior, he started to worry, but his eyes danced over the flames and ashes, finally understanding why she chose a phoenix. “You said you wanted yourself back. This was your way of taking it.”

She took a breath in and let it out slowly. “I guess so. When I was getting dressed this morning, I saw the scars. The surgical scar, other small scars that weren’t there before. Permanent, ugly marks that I didn’t put there and don’t want. Every time I look in the mirror, I’m going to see those and remember what he did to me!” She tipped her chin to indicate her shoulder “This mark was my choice.”

She looked better, stronger. He had to admit that. It looked like what she’d done had been good for her. There was that little glimmer of defiance back in her eyes. He knew that she still had a long road ahead of her, and he hoped she knew that too, because even though the tattoo represented her repossession of herself, she was far from recovered.

He resisted the urge to touch the design, knowing that it was basically an open wound, however beautiful. He rested his hand on the curve of her shoulder instead. “Does it hurt?”

“Now? Not really. Feels a bit like a sunburn.”

“And when you got it?”

“It hurt, but in a good way.” Normally, he’d throw out a sadomasochistic innuendo, but this situation wasn’t normal. He held his tongue. Regardless, she seemed to see what he was thinking. “House, I’m not a masochist. That’s not what I meant. I wasn’t tripping on endorphins, well, not much.” She conceded. “It’s really hard to explain. It was a ‘good’ hurt. Emotionally, I guess it was similar to lifting weights at the gym, pushing yourself through that extra set. It hurts, but afterwards, you’re so happy and proud that you survived it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You are aware that you’re describing a textbook definition of ‘tripping on endorphins’?.”

She didn’t argue, but instead glanced at the bandage in his hand. “I need a new bandage now. That one isn’t sterile anymore.”

He nodded and snagged a bandage from her first aid kit, gently replacing the one he’d removed. House normally didn’t like tattoos on women, but this one- this one was so Allison. Not Allison of three weeks ago, but Allison today. Not the naïve medical fellow, nor the victim, but the survivor. She’d taken back her body, and she’d done it her way. And it was beautiful.

They drank their coffee and although Allison was quiet when he mentioned that it was time to leave, she went without protest.