Cure- House, MD

chapter 12: funeral

The ringing of my office phone pulls me out of my thoughts. I glance at the screen, frowning when I see the familiar area code. Orlando. It's not a number I recognize, but something about it makes me hesitate before answering.

"Dr. Moss," I say, leaning back in my chair, trying to sound more composed than I feel.

"Evelyn." My mother's voice is soft but heavy, like she's already bracing herself for how I'm going to take what she's about to say.

I straighten instinctively, my stomach tightening. "Mom? What's wrong?"

There's a long pause on the other end of the line, just long enough for my mind to race through every worst-case scenario.

"It's Dr. Tillsbury," she says finally, her voice breaking slightly. "He passed away this morning."

The words hit me like a blow, and for a moment, I can't breathe. "What?" I manage to whisper.

"A heart attack," she says, her tone gentle but firm, the way she's always been when delivering bad news. "It was sudden. They said he didn't suffer."

I sit there in stunned silence, the weight of her words sinking in. Dr. Tillsbury. My mentor, my greatest supporter, the man who saw something in me when I wasn't even sure I saw it in myself. Gone.

"Evelyn?" my mom says after a moment, her voice tentative. "Are you okay?"

"I..." I clear my throat, trying to push past the lump forming there. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. When's the funeral?"

"Saturday," she says. "I thought you'd want to know. I know how much he meant to you."

I nod, even though she can't see me. "Thanks, Mom. I'll book a flight and let you know when I get in."

"Take care of yourself, sweetheart," she says softly.

"You too," I reply, though the words feel hollow.

I hang up and sit there for a moment, staring at the desk in front of me. My mind is a whirlwind of memories—Tillsbury walking me through my first real diagnosis, his dry humor that always seemed to surface at the most unexpected moments, the way he believed in me when I didn't believe in myself.

I feel the sting of tears welling up, but I blink them away quickly. There's no time for that right now.

House's office is as chaotic as ever when I get there, stacks of files and papers cluttering every surface. He's sitting at his desk, tossing a stress ball against the wall with the kind of precision that suggests he's been doing it for far too long.

He looks up when I knock, his expression shifting from bored to curious in an instant. "Moss. To what do I owe the pleasure? Come to tell me you're quitting, or is this about the Ethics Committee again? Because if it's the latter, let me stop you right there: I'm not apologizing for anything."

I close the door behind me, ignoring his usual sarcasm. "I need a day off," I say, cutting straight to the point.

His eyebrows shoot up, and he leans back in his chair, spinning the stress ball in his hand. "A day off? What's the occasion? Got a hot date with your neighbor?"

"Dr. Tillsbury died," I say quietly, the words tasting strange and bitter as they leave my mouth.

House stops mid-spin, the ball falling to the desk with a soft thud. For a moment, he doesn't say anything, just looks at me with an expression I can't quite read.

"Tillsbury," he repeats, his tone uncharacteristically neutral. "The mentor you never shut up about?"

I nod, crossing my arms as I try to keep my composure. "I need to fly down to Orlando for the funeral. It's on Saturday."