They drink to Aiden and who she was and who she isn’t now, glasses clinking together, and for the first time in a couple of months Lindsay feels like the new girl again, awkward and uncertain and unable to understand things because she wasn’t there at the time. A young woman died and it’s sad but Lindsay didn’t know her and she doesn’t have that connection, not like everyone else does. She’s Aiden’s replacement, and all of a sudden, for the first time, Lindsay wishes she’d just stayed in Montana. She can’t help feeling painfully responsible and out of place.
It’s Valentine’s Day and dead people are cropping up all over the city, murdered by their lovers or with their lovers or by people who would have liked to be their lovers. Lindsay spends half the afternoon with Hammerback, watching the autopsy of a woman who was poisoned, while Stella interrogates the boyfriend. By the time they have a search warrant and prove he poisoned the fettucini they had for lunch, Lindsay’s feet are aching and she’s lost all faith in the human race and love.
(The candy heart sitting discreetly on her desk later helps restore it a little.)
Danny drops her off with a quick, tired smile, and Lindsay doesn’t register the elevator ride up to her apartment. She doesn’t register easing her shoes off or putting the kettle on for some coffee. She makes her way to the bathroom to be faced with her stark, exhausted reflection in the mirror; pale, dark, dark rings around her eyes, the nasty gash in her hairline standing out more than ever. It’s been a long, long day, and Flack could die and-
The kettle boils but Lindsay is already fast asleep on her bed, fully-dressed and not daring to dream.
Sam Carter/Jack O'Neill for alphabetdrabble
To amuse himself during a particularly lengthy briefing, where there are several members of the pentagon seemingly striving to be more pompous and boring than the others, Daniel taps a pen against his folder and watches Jack trying not to openly stare at Sam.
Sam is the only one trying to listen; Daniel lost track twenty minutes ago and Jack’s apparently more interested in staring at his 2IC in an increasingly heated fashion. He’ll stare at her for a few moments, then start and glance away.
The latest general continues to bloviate, and Daniel sighs and starts a tally chart.
007. Gravitas (set after season six's "Unnatural Selection")
Prometheus is silent. Either Jonas and Teal'c have managed to eat so much ice cream that they're on the point of being sick, or there's mutiny in the air. Jack sort of hopes it's the first one (although cleaning up alien vomit isn't high on his to do list) but sadly suspects it's the second.
"Look," he begins, and feels three pairs of accusing eyes on him. "I had to. You know that I had to. We all did. If we hadn't left him behind-"
"Sir," Carter cuts him off. "Don't. Just- don't."
For once, Jack obediently closes his mouth.
Jack gets a beer from the fridge, and takes a long drink. There’s silence here- complete silence, and it makes a change from all the noise in the rest of his life. It’s so peaceful in his cabin- maybe too peaceful. Closing the fridge and moving away from the cold it radiates, Jack makes his way outside to look at his big, fishless lake. He loves it here and one day he’ll move here to stay- Jack’s promised himself. He deserves the quiet.
And one day- his lips twist into a wry smile. One day he’ll bring her out here.
Janet is the first thing Jack sees when he wakes up; Janet checking all sorts of monitors and looking concerned. Carter, in the next bed over with her arm in a sling, is openly staring at him.
“What-” he begins.
“Sir, you nearly died,” she says, sounding exhausted.
“What, again?” Jack feels himself frown. “We have got to get ourselves a new hobby.”
And Carter, even though he can tell she wants to say all sorts of inappropriate things (or maybe scream at him for putting her through this yet again), just about manages a tentative smile. It’s a start.
House/Chase/Wilson for drabbles100 (because this well never runs dry)
002. Middles (96)
Sitting there like a king in all his damaged glory, so razor-edged that it's surprising anyone wants to get close to him- surely it's suicide- House looks at Chase coolly like he's got all the answers (he probably has).
Wilson, on the other hand, doesn't bother with eye contact and his razor blades are neatly concealed in layers of silk and cotton candy or something. He doesn't pretend to have the answers, or even the questions- he's all about the butterfly kisses and Sunday afternoons.
And Chase has this conflicted little place, caught in the middle.
042. Triangle (100)
The first time Chase loses a patient House hits him hard enough to leave a mark. A mark that Wilson kisses until Chase is no longer angry and threatening to quit.
The second time House catches them together he twists his mouth into an unpleasant smirk and then makes Chase do his clinic duty for days.
The third time Wilson describes what Chase is like in bed in a peaceful monotone over lunch, House practically drags him to the nearby mens' bathroom, pins him to the wall and kisses him violently. Wilson could say 'no' but oh- oh, he doesn't.
061. Winter (94)
Wilson belongs to House; whether he knows that or not, it's a statement of fact. It's what happens when you get too close.
Chase belongs to Wilson, or at least he likes to think he does, which is a different thing entirely. He doesn't mention it- remnants of affection will never pass his lips. That's not what it's about- whatever it's about.
House owns Wilson and he owns Chase and Cameron and Foreman and anyone who takes the time to listen to him. But he's not sure if he belongs to anyone any more.
093. Thanksgiving (100)
(btw, my only knowledge of thanksgiving comes from, like, The Simpsons)
Wilson has no wife, House has no other friends, and Chase has no family left, so they end up sitting around in his apartment with a bottle of vodka and some shot glasses, with the television turned firmly off, because none of them are in the mood for whatever mushy gushy programmes are being aired. There's no turkey or cranberry sauce or pie. This year there is next to nothing to be thankful for, but with Wilson's mouth awkwardly crushing his and Chase's lips wrapped around his cock, House reflects that maybe this holiday isn't a total washout after all.