27 May 2007 + 9:31 am
thelyricalmuses May mood + cold

Broken Bridge

When I'd finished unpacking, the house seemed more inviting. Mark was downstairs, bustling about in the way he had of doing when something needed accomplished, and while that was usually a welcome trait the prospect of taking care of one more thing right now was just too overwhelming. So I sat on top of one of the trunks, my elbows on my knees, and looked around the attic.

It wasn't as dusty as attics usually were, since the previous owners of the house had been kind enough to clean it up and prepare it for our arrival. Who was considerate enough to clean an attic that thoroughly, I won't hazard a guess. But it was nice all the same, and I didn't hear any scratching sounds on the floorboards to give way to the reality someone else was living in the house besides us.

I really didn't get along well with rats, or mice.

It was home now, and would be for a long, long time. Mark had a job lined up at the high school, I had firms banging down my door asking me to work for them, and it was just a matter of time before our lives were the way we said we wanted them to be.

It was a change, but one I had to make. The wedding band on my finger was warm to my skin and I twisted it once around. We were going to be happy here, even with the burned bridges of the past behind us. Because if the bridges had been burned then the past couldn't follow.

And that was probably best.

3 cmnt

27 May 2007 + 9:26 am
fandom_muses May mood + nostalgic

If I could do it over again I'd...

Tell him he wasn't allowed to play golf.

No, really. I don't know how I'd change it. I don't know what medically happened, or what would have prevented the infarction in the first place. If it was inevitable, or something that had been long in the making and just needed a catalyst to send it off on its merry, destructive path. No, I'd have insisted on Lisa taking his case. That's what I'd have done, I'd have gone down the hall and found Lisa, who'd have come running with dark hair and white coat in tow, and Lisa would have made sure this hadn't happened. Lisa who had loved Greg in college, even though she'd never admit so to me because we were friends now and those weren't exactly the best conversations to have between friends. And Greg would look up through bloodshot, pain filled eyes and snap out a remark to the Lisa he'd too loved in college, though he'd never admit to it whether I was in the room or not.

I would have found Lisa, and this would have never happened.

I wonder about the two of them now, just what's happened between them during the years I've been gone. Five years of absence is a very, very long time, especially when love's had a chance to poison itself into hate. Greg hated me by now, or was close to it - not because he truly meant it, but because hating someone that's gone away is easier than holding onto the memory.

I don't want to think about this now. That's what I'd do differently, if I had the chance to do it over.

cmnt

27 May 2007 + 9:18 am
eclecticmuses May mood + indescribable

"I am not bound to please thee with my answers". -William Shakespeare

I remember how the paper felt when I scratched my answer across, how small and light the pen was in my hand and how I wondered if it was possible to change a life with just my signature. Greg had made me his health care proxy six months after I'd moved in - ironically enough, five months and three weeks after we'd started dating. Plenty of friends thought I was mad, but I knew I wasn't. He was intense, not quietly so but purely intense, and I liked it. Loved it, even, without regard or abandon.

Lisa took the forms away, and I sat back to close my eyes. I think I was looking for a reprieve, for some white light to come from the sky and tell me I'd been right to do what I was doing. I knew - or felt - I had no other choice, and Greg's path harbored the risk of failure. My way - this way - he'd keep his leg, and his life. It seemed like there was no alternative.

I knew it'd be several hours between surgery and recovery, and that I couldn't leave the hospital all the same. I wanted to talk to Lisa, but she was in performing the surgery. So I'd called James that moment, and waited for the comforting, placating presence to come to my side.

He'd tell me I'd been right, which is what I'd needed to hear and know. I needed to know I was right, that Greg didn't have to be happy with what I'd done for it to be the right thing. I needed to know it, to know that I'd done this out of love. And James would have done the same thing. I was sure of it.

Greg never thought that someone would have to go against his diagnosis, that there was the possibility he might be wrong. And while something inside me knew he might well be right, as he'd been right so many times in the past, I wasn't going to take that risk. Not with his life.

cmnt

30 April 2007 + 9:39 pm
eclecticmuses April

"Love makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place-" Zora Neale Hurston

I remember when I realized I was in love with Greg. It wasn't the sort of feeling that I ever wanted to have, nor the kind that begged to be replicated. Most people believe the best of love, that it's easy through all situations and circumstances. That there are no problems, no misfortunes, nothing that can ever go wrong. Love's supposed to be this magical thing that takes away the world's pain and makes everything shine.

When I met Greg, I realized it wasn't that way. The alternative wasn't horrible or bad, wrong or anything less than what it blatantly stated it would be, but it was an alternative I wasn't ready for. I didn't know what it would mean, to let someone in that way. And come to think of it, I didn't really let him in. He bulldozed himself in with a force that refused to be ignored. I didn't have a choice, or at least that was what I told myself. It made it easier to accept what had happened.

Because falling in love changed everything. I couldn't hide from him, and I didn't want to.

cmnt

27 April 2007 + 12:07 am
thelyricalmuses #36

Lisa was pale, the skin around her eyes colored with fatigue. She must have been standing there for a hour at least, the entire duration of the surgery that Stacy had told her not to watch. It wasn't going to do any good, sitting here like this with raw deliberation running through her veins. If Lisa kept watching, waiting, and trying she was going to drive herself mad. There was no easy way around what had happened.

The folder in her arms was tucked close and Stacy made the decision to go to her friend. It hadn't been an easy decision to make, for Stacy detested hospitals. It was something that had been with her since before Greg's infarction, from when her mother died. Hours had gone by with the sterile scent cloying her nose, the endless game of waiting stretching out before her in an interminable length.

She hated it then and despised it now.

Lisa turned then in response to a question Stacy didn't remember asking, and then she was effortlessly tossing out advice, confidence, and the precision of the law. It didn't matter now, the past. At least, not as much as it had before.

It couldn't matter when lives were at stake, waiting. Waiting for a choice that wasn't theirs or that of the doctors to make at all.

cmnt

26 April 2007 + 11:29 pm
fandom_muses April

If all of your friends were jumping off a bridge, would you jump too?

Of course not. And before anyone asks, yes I've given it plenty of thought and no, I won't be changing my mind. Why? All right, then I'll tell you why. Because jumping off a bridge, literally, is about the most atrocious thing a person can do. You're diving into water you've never been into before, and for what? To put someone else's mind at ease?

No, I don't think so.

If someone wants to take things into their own hands and pitch over a bridge, then that's their choice. But no matter how much I love someone - a friend or otherwise - I wouldn't be doing anything like that.

Greg would laugh at this one, shake his head and tell me I must have been married for too long if I was thinking this way. But it's the truth. I never considered taking my own life or putting my life into danger for someone else.

Unless, of course, my jumping off a bridge would undo what had happened to his leg. In that case, I'd be the one someone else would have to jump off after.

cmnt

25 March 2007 + 2:41 am
fandom_muses March mood + cold

When in doubt, tell the truth. -Mark Twain

I wish I had told him the truth that night. It was warm against his chest, his breath was soft in my hair and I didn't want to be anywhere else. His chest rose and fell against my back, he breathed a sigh and his lips caressed my throat. I could have stayed this way for the rest of my life without caring what it ended up meaning.

But I never told him that. I let things go about as they wanted to, and by the time I made the choice it was too late. He'd made up his mind already, living by an invisible and raw standard I hated. I loved him and hated the way his mind worked sometimes.

I was devoid of a chance or any way to make things the way I wanted. It wasn't my call, it was his. But I can't help wondering if there would have been otherwise. If maybe, by some stroke of luck, he would have changed his mind. Greg wouldn't tell me to leave if he knew I wanted to stay.

There was no going back to that now though. I didn't have another chance.

cmnt

25 March 2007 + 2:07 am
elite_muses #33 mood + nostalgic

#33 - Summer

When summer came in Mississippi it was too hot to stay indoors. That was what Mama said, and she chased us outside into the sunshine. The promise of sweet tea echoed on the porch and my brothers and sisters ran with me in the fields. It was one of the most simplistic times of my life, and one where I felt the most safe. There were no pressures then, except to abide by the rules of my family, and we were willing to do that. More than that.

When I moved to go to college I longed for the summer months, not for a break from my studies but for a chance to come back to all of that. It was precious, I know that now. I miss Mama’s voice, calling the way she used to. It all feels so far away, so foreign and strange.

It wasn’t perfect, anything about my life. But it was as close as it could have been and I should have appreciated it more. Everything changed, and I wish I’d been able to appreciate just how precious it was when I had it. I should have known. Mama would have been proud, to know just how much those summers meant to me.

Muse: Stacy Warner
Fandom: House M.D.
Word Count: 208

cmnt

16 March 2007 + 6:27 pm
eclecticmuses March

'You are the Moon' - The Hush Sound

Greg and I used to watch the leaves change in the fall. It was one of the little things he did for me - the many, many little things that meant so much. A lot of people wrote him off as a complete failure when it came to romance, but he had his moments. He showed them to me, of course, and I kept the secret. It was the way he preferred it.

A time I remember the most was a cool October, when he was later than I had been coming home from the office. Before his infarction, of course, long before that had ever been an issue. He came to the bedroom and I was there, the window open with my attention fastened elsewhere. It was a normal song and dance for us, and he shrugged out of his coat before coming to my side. He never sat on one side more than the other - normalcy and routine were overrated - but my skin warmed to his touch and I felt his fingers slide beneath the shirt on my side, tugging it from the blazer and stroking the skin beneath.

He loved to do this and I loved to be there with him, when things were more simple than they could ever be again. The memories were sweet but the pain was sweeter sometimes, in a bitterness that I could still taste on my tongue.

And I'm not sorry we couldn't go back. I'm just sorry we had to go at all.

cmnt

16 March 2007 + 1:51 pm
thelyricalmuses #31 mood + sad
She knew that he hated her.

When his eyes opened, the normally sharp gaze foggy with post-medicated delirium and a childish bit of hope, she could hardly stand to see it. The mind was apparently an extraordinary thing and often times senses betrayed what really was. He probably didn't know anything was amiss, not yet in this blissful cloud of unknowing.

Were she in possession of time's control, if she had been able to Stacy would have touched her fingertips to the second hand, freezing this instant forever. Where he was alive and free of pain, before he realized what he would inevitably know. She wanted him this way, when hurting didn't exist and he still loved her.

He wouldn't love her soon. Not immediately, but over time. She knew that, knew what she was signing in scrawling, scratching waves across a precisely typed page. And Stacy would still remain true to the belief that she had no other choice. It was going to ruin their relationship but save his life, and the choice had to be made.

It really was abundantly clear.

The tissue crumpled tighter in her hand, and then Stacy waited. She waited and watched as the look in his eyes began to change.

cmnt

16 March 2007 + 1:45 pm
thelyricalmuses #29 mood + nostalgic

The room was dimly lit, and she'd done that on purpose. The raw, perfect light of not candles but as best that could come from hotel room conditions. He was closer than her next breath and further away than childhood dreams, the lingering taste of familiarity burning across her mouth.

If you hadn't just had a fight with Mark -

Oh, shut up! Shut up, be quiet, stop this right now. Stop your silly attempt at virtue and chivalry, throw caution into the tumbling whirlwinds of never-to-be. Don't be what you aren't, come back to what we are!

She wanted to scream it into his soul, emblazon reality on his unwilling eyelids and pour herself into his being and into the scars that plagued, because if she could just do that then again..again there was a chance. There was and had always been a chance between them, the raw and perfect state that was their own.

He wasn't drawing away but he was too far for her liking and in a nostalgic gesture of frustration, her hands - wedding band be damned! - lifted up to take his face into her grasp. He was older now and so too was she, worn and fatigued by the time spent apart and in trying to pretend things were better than they actually were.

"For once in your life, will you shut up!"

And for once, he listened to her.

1 cmnt

1 March 2007 + 10:39 am
muse_playground February

OOC: Mun’s Turn- Here’s your chance to sound off about that muse in your head that drives you crazy, makes you ride an emotional rollercoaster, demands things happen their way even if you wanted to do something different with their storyline and all those other things our little darlings do to us, their slavishly devoted typists. Remember to post this as OOC (out of character).

Oh, Stacy. Stacy, Stacy, Stacy. My dear little relationship killer - in the original Greek, that is - who can never make up her mind. She tries, really she does, absolutely does her best to be firm and decisive and stick to everything she knows is best. But it just doesn't work out that wawy for her, because even though she's strong, she's still a strong woman in love. That's a lethal sort of combination.

I've been writing Stacy for a long time, and I've become so comfortable with her that I can't imagine ever letting her ago. But at the same time, she's very unpredictable. She's still in love with House, so in love that she often turns a blind eye to things in her own mind in regard to what's wrong and right. It tears her apart that they can't be together because he was the first man she ever loved, and everything they went through solidified that more. Stacy would have stayed through his infarction if he'd wanted her to, but their fighting escalated to a state where it was impossible and she had no choice. I still don't know what their fights were like, the dear won't let me into that part of her mind. I guess everyone has deep wounds they don't want to expose to air.

But Stacy is beautiful, intelligent, sharp, and so much fun. She drives me insane sometimes, and I wish more than anything she could just find happiness and stay there with it.

Word Count: 251

cmnt

1 March 2007 + 10:23 am
talking_muses #27A mood + anxious

It wasn’t that she didn’t want the same things he did. The opposite statement held true, and that was why she could make that sort of choice. When confronted in the reality with the stark understanding that time was of the essence, that there was no other option, that doors had been closed with harsh force directly in her face, there was nothing more she could do.

At least, that was what Stacy was telling herself.

The tissue was crumpled in her hands, a formless little wad of powdering dust that was disintegrating over her dark pants, and if she’d had more presence of mind she would have brushed them away. They’d have fallen like snow, layered across the ground and been carried off by the movement of the rubber soled shoes that squeaked by, a nurse in a hurry to change an IV or bring a new water pitcher. It was routine, everything about it was pure and simple routine.

But during this particular routine he could die.

Could die, he wouldn’t necessarily die. He was stubborn and bullheaded, abrasive and sometimes thoughtless, but she was in love with him. And love did things to the judgement of people that they claimed later they weren’t proud of. When John and Blythe House arrived later that night, as their itineraries said they would, Stacy’s time would be up. She was his health care proxy, yes, but John House didn’t do anything other than what he himself wanted, and that included telling Stacy just what he thought she should do.

Stacy, my boy knows what he wants. Don’t be doing otherwise.

It might not be the actual situation, but she could hear it in her mind. She could hear the deep voice rasping at her, chiding her as though she were sixteen instead of a professional and successful lawyer with her own means of support. Those things didn’t matter to the parents of the man she loved. And time was ticking away from her, and there was no other choice.

He’d hate her. He’d never forgive her, and she knew that a little more with each step she took. Lisa was watching her, dark circles beneath her tired eyes, and when Stacy took the clipboard, already loaded with paperwork and uncapped the pen there was no going back.

Greg was asleep. He had been for a hour now. And Stacy was going to sign the forms.

Muse: Stacy Warner
Fandom: House M.D.
Word Count:406

cmnt

15 February 2007 + 11:10 pm
versecollision #01 mood + drained

The biggest myth about me is..

That I'm a bitch. No, I'm not kidding about this either. When I was in high school I was popular enough, a cheerleader and prom queen, things like that. And there were plenty of friends and acquaintences and hangers-on, all of which varied with the times easier than I thought. Being a teenager it didn't seem to matter, but now I can see what it really was and how inconstant it came out to be.

It followed me into my career, too. I didn't expect it would come as a service in my profession but having people know what I was capable of didn't hurt and I didn't mind it as much.

But if it comes down to it, that's the biggest mythical untruth going around about me even to this day. I'm sure Greg takes a great deal of pleasure in feeding its proverbial fire, but it just isn't the case. Sure, I take my work seriously and I'm certain that can bring about a lot of nasty rumors pertaining to the fact. But that doesn't make me a bitch.

It just makes me Stacy.

cmnt

15 February 2007 + 10:17 pm
thelyricalmuses #26 mood + tired

It was getting away that was the hardest. Running was easy, but making any sort of advancement into a new life was the part that was impossible. It felt like an uphill battle, something she couldn't escape if she wanted to. And going in circles was even worse still. It was the same sort of uphill theory, but not getting anywhere made it harder and she didn't know when it would end.

It was a cycle. A vicious, neverending cycle that derived from the pages of a life she'd been trying to forget. And she wanted to let it go, she did. But letting go was as hard to do as it was to hold on.

While she would never forget she'd never really want to. Letting go to her meant forgetting, and she didn't want to forget. If holding onto all of this meant keeping the memory of his caresses fresh in her mind, the way it had felt to kiss him again - if all of that could stay raw and real, then this would be worth it.

It had to be, somehow.

cmnt

15 February 2007 + 10:02 pm
licenseartistic February mood + indescribable

1. Title / Prompt. 'Back to Where we Once Began' / “The more anger towards the past you carry in your heart, the less capable you are of loving in the present." - Barbara De Angelis
2. Character. Stacy Warner
3. Warnings (if any.) None.
4. Pairings (if any.) House/Stacy
5. Your character's fandom. House M.D.
6. Word count. 347
7. Rating. PG
8. Disclaimer. Stacy thinks back on the life she once had with House, both in the distant and not-so-distant past.
9. Link to your fic / Fic.

Whether she wanted to rip his throat out or kiss that sarcastic mouth, Stacy didn’t know. It had been months since she’d last seen Gregory House, and only weeks since his last phone call. There was no way to prove it had been him but when Stacy had received the message from her law clerk that ‘an extremely sarcastic man had called trying to reach her but refused to leave a name’ it wasn’t hard to figure out who it was.

But calling him back was out of the question. Seeing him in Princeton was enough, but a call back would indicate some semblance of interest and Stacy couldn’t let on that anything of that sort was being felt. No, it had been Greg who ended things this time, and while it seemed to be some sort of punishment across the years - her own cross to bear for what she’d brought to his leg and his life - part of her was unwilling to accept that as truth.

It had been awhile, though. Six months, two weeks, and five days, not that she was counting. And while it had been one night it hadn’t been just that. It had been an ongoing pursuit by him, his constant desire to have her back in his life and the moment she’d been ready to give up whatever it took to have that as well, he’d left.

He’d left her the way she left him. And try as she might, Stacy couldn’t convince herself that she deserved any part of it.

Still, that didn’t ease the ache of abandonment and longing, and each time Stacy reached for the phone her fingers curled in on themselves, forcing back the urge to give in. There had been many times like this and she knew there would be more, but right now she couldn’t call him back. Loving Greg was hard but resisting the urge to go back to him was harder. But if she’d managed one for five years she could try and manage the other.

All she could do then was try.

cmnt

15 February 2007 + 9:54 pm
fandom_muses February mood + exhausted

"We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us." - E.M. Forster

When I walked out I knew there would be regrets. That isn't the sort of decision that's ever made lightly, and always has the harshest consequences. I would have stayed if there was any other way but fight after fight, moment after moment...there was nothing left. I had run out of tears in the first weeks after he was released from the hospital, and as much as I hated to recognize it my compassion wanted to quickly follow suit.

It was the end before the end began and I knew it. I knew it with the same raw certainty like to that of waking up and feeling the chill of winter in the air. And you're loathe to throw back the blankets to turn on the heat because it's so warm in bed, and staying there another moment, just another moment would make everything okay...

But the bed had been cold for months, even with him warm beside me and I knew it was the end. I knew I had to go and I knew I would hate every moment of it. But what choice was there? What choice did I have in the end?

cmnt

15 February 2007 + 9:45 pm
elite_muses #29 mood + cold

Captive


The nightmares had been coming for months. Not night after night but close enough that Stacy couldn’t remember the last solid night’s sleep she had. If this kept up she was going to lose the next case - her deposition was the next morning - but that oddly was not a concern in her mind.

Beside her Mark continued to sleep soundly, his rhythmatic breathing a solid indicator he would continue to sleep through the night. If there was a shift in his posture or breathing he would wake, but after long, incessant moments of watching him sleep the danger had passed and Stacy slipped from between the sheets.

It wasn’t home. Try as she had to accept it, this place was not home. It was in Short Hills and it was a house, furnished just the way she had wanted because Mark had ensured that to be the case. But it wasn’t home, because home was Princeton. With Lisa and James - and Greg.

She spent most of her nights like this, thinking about the three of them and the friendship they’d shared - the friendship and relationships, the kisses and caresses and things they would never tell anyone else. Her tea turned cold but she didn’t notice, because in the winter months everything was numb and it seemed fair enough she would be as well.

It wasn’t home. It was a prison. But it was the only one she had.

Muse: Stacy Warner
Fandom: House M.D.
Word Count: 238

cmnt

15 February 2007 + 3:32 am
eclecticmuses February mood + cold

Experience is the name everyone gives to their mistakes. -- Oscar Wilde

When it came to the past, there was more she wished she could forget than she wanted to admit. It was moments like these, standing in the new house in Short Hills that brought those kinds of feelings back to the surface. Not ghosts, she knew, but feelings.

Mark was behind her somewhere, probably on the lawn judging from the echo of his voice. Stacy couldn’t tell, she really didn’t know. Her attention was focused elsewhere, on the emptiness of the room around her. Stark white on the walls, hard floors beneath her feet. Hardwood floors, that was good, not all of the new-

Oh, Stacy.

Shut up.

Her lips pressed together in a firm line, and after an indrawn breath the moment had passed. Those sorts of moments came and went with worrisome irregularity, and while they rooted her back to the ground and reality, not knowing when they’d strike was not welcome. It left her uncertain of herself, and she never felt that way.

Then again, she’d never been in love. Not before Greg. But that was over, the past was behind her, and that was where it had to stay.

Her life was now a fresh start. Whitewashed and blank, like the walls in front of her now. Not bland at all, but untouched. Something that could be molded and designed into whatever she wanted it to be. And even if it wasn’t quite what she had in mind, at least it was new.

At least she could try.

cmnt

28 January 2007 + 6:04 pm
eclecticmuses January mood + amused

Something Real by Renee Stahl

Stacy couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him, not the exact day at least. It was one of those odd coincidences, their running into each other, that hadn't registered specifics in her mind but had been pressing all the same. It had been one date, one simply horrific date, but now it was almost a game, to see who would admit to seeing or knowing the other first.

Her heart flipped whenever he looked at her with the same intensity as he had when he'd kissed her goodnight. The date itself had been horrible but the kiss...had been something else. His lips had been warm, his touch intense, and she hadn't wanted it to end.

Whatever it was, it was real. He was holding all the cards and she knew it, even though her self-assured stride indicated everything otherwise. And when he walked towards her parked car and appeared to make it accidental, Stacy's eyebrows lifted marginally to indicate she knew exactly what he was doing. Yes, she knew, he was pulling her in deeper than she already was. And she was going willingly, even if she appeared to be putting up a fight.

cmnt

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