Title: She Has No Time
Characters: Dean Winchester/Remy Hadley, Gregory House
tamingthemuse Prompt: #274 ~ Danseur Noble
Content Warning: AU from 718: The Dig (House MD) and 522: Swan Song (Supernatural), character death.
Summary: The hero of the story is supposed to be the one who lives happily ever after.
Author’s Note: Written for the Anon Meme, prompt “Remy Hadley/Dean Winchester - til death.” Not related to anything in particular.
Disclaimer: I don’t own. They belong to the CW and FOX. I’m just borrowing and will put everything back where I found it.
The hero of the story is supposed to be the one who lives happily ever after.
If Hadley hadn’t lost faith in fairytales a long time ago to begin with, they would have been gone completely the last time Dean shows up on her doorstep. The look on his face says it all. He’s got nothing left. She doesn’t have much either—six months in prison meant that she didn’t have much left either, but what she did, she gives to him. A roof over his head, a place to stay, people to be around. It isn’t much, but it’s something, and it’s more than he has.
The first night he stays with her, he doesn’t sleep. He spends the night warding it against everything and anything. By the time she wakes up to go to work the next morning, there’s a pot of coffee already made, her entire living room has been rearranged, and Dean is making a half-hearted attempt at breakfast. She knows he just wants to feel safe, so she lets him. She lets him get away with a lot of things, but he’s grieving, and that is enough to make her understand not telling her everything. She kisses him as she heads out the door, tells him to get some sleep, and doesn’t know if he’ll actually listen, but it’s worth a try.
The first week, he barely gets out of bed.
The first month, he drinks a lot. Not that Hadley is really one to judge, but he’s drinking so much that in the end she has to put her foot down and keep it out of the apartment. He never tells her how bad it was when he was gone, and she never pushes, but she’s not going to let him drink himself to death. It doesn’t help. He goes out instead, and she gets phone calls from him in the wee hours of the morning, asking her to come and get him, but at least he isn’t starting the morning with a scotch and having her be out a bottle by the time she gets home.
She wants to help him, but she isn’t sure how—until she can figure out that how, she just has to make sure he doesn’t kill himself, which in the end is easier said than done.
Six months in, he spills because he can’t hold it back anymore. The whole, ridiculous story that seems like something out of an urban fantasy novel, but she can tell he isn’t lying. He’s not stretching the truth by any sense of the word, and suddenly everything makes sense. He’s carrying so much, and she doesn’t know how to help him, other than listening when she can, and making sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. She has to try to convince him that living is what his brother wants for him, not wasting himself away to join him.
It takes a while for it to stick—for him to stop drinking so much and to actually look into finding a job, for him to fall asleep with her at night as oppose to sitting up awake for hours, but he does. It’s not perfect, but it’s a step in the right direction, and for now, that’s what matters.
He starts meeting her for lunch at work.
At first it’s a surprise. He shows up while she’s working the clinic one day, covered in grease with this awkward little smile on his face. Foreman had helped her find him that job at the mechanic’s, and once he had gotten settled in that, it’s like a switch is flipped. He’s not so lost anymore. He has things that he can do, that he can fix, and that keeps him focused for the time being. And one day, he decides to swing by for lunch.
The look on his face says that he’s pretty sure she’s going to kick him out on his ass, but she doesn’t. It’s an unexpected surprise, but not a bad one, and it’s a break from her day where she doesn’t have to worry about House, or the patient, or whatever office politics House may be stirring up. She doesn’t have to worry about keeping up her lies. It’s the most relaxing part of her day, and that’s more of a reason than anything that she doesn’t mind when it starts to happen every day.
She expects to feel smothered, or like she’s losing too much of herself, but she doesn’t. There’s a small fleeting moment where she wonders if this is what it was like to be married.
She doesn’t let that thought get much further than that.
She never marries him.
Her disease won’t allow for that, progressively getting worse as she gets older, faster than most cases would predict. Dean never leaves her side the entire time, and she sees how much it weighs on him, for as long as she can recognize it. Once her mind starts to go, she barely even recognizes him.
There are moments. Moments where she opens her eyes and looks at him and knows that he’s Dean and he means something to her. They’re fast and fleeting, and it usually isn’t long before she sinks back into her delusions again. Her mind is slowly turning itself into Swiss cheese, and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop it.
She hates seeing it every time she opens her eyes, the worry that she’s not going to he is, the toll that all of this is taking on him. But he never leaves her alone.
One time, she opens her eyes and it’s House that’s standing over her, checking her vitals. Her hand shoots out, lands on his arm, and grips with all the strength she has left. She waits until his eyes land on her, and then she speaks.
She doesn’t remember much after that.
House is usually against euthanasia in most cases. He believes that people should fight for their lives because this is it. This is all they get. And they should try to live it for as long as it’s worth living. Remy Hadley doesn’t have much left of a life worth living.
Remy Hadley is his friend. Friends for House are hard to come by, but she was right. He had made her a promise, and he intends to keep it. Now all he needs is to get her ape of a boyfriend out of the room long enough to do what he needs to do. It isn’t that he doesn’t like Dean. He’s almost as much of an ass and a realist as House is, and he hasn’t left Remy’s side since she had been admitted. But Dean would kill him before he let him do what he’s about to do, which meant Dean had to be out of the way. And if that meant dropping a roofie in his coffee, so be it.
Dean knows what’s happening as the drugs hit his system, and he tries to struggle to his feet, before slumping back into the chair again. House knows he has at least a punch to the face coming to him by the end of the day, but he’s not one to back down. This is what Remy asked of him and he’s going to honor her wishes.
He prepares the cocktail, injects it into her IV as she sleeps, and waits for her vitals to drop. He calls the nurse when she starts to crash, but she had signed a DNR a long time ago.
The shrill BEEP of the monitors failing are enough to bring Dean through his drug induced haze, and the panic that crosses his face is unmistakable. He surges to his feet, trying to pull the nurses away to get to her and when House tries to pull him back, Dean’s fist hits him like a freight train. He’s on the ground before he can blink, and the nurses pull away to help him instead of attending to the dead woman on the bed.
House doesn’t bother to direct them back. He lets Dean have his moment to grieve.
Sometimes, the hero of the story is the one that in the end still loses everything.