House was back at the psychiatric hospital. It had been his first week alone, away from the place he had grown to loathe. Sitting in the same sofa, as his psychiatrist tapped her pen on the table, jotting short sentences down after every glance up at House’s face.
“Why don’t we start with your first week back; Do te think it’s going well?” House seemed reluctant to answer yet another pointless and leading domanda into something deeper.
“I can say anything in here, nothing can be held against me?” House wanted reassurance that whatever he said, would never leave the old grainy walls that surrounded him.
“Patient, doctor confidentiality. Some of us still believe in ethics.” House felt himself becoming più agitated, but the time he spent in the hospital had helped him explore his mind più so than ever.
“Things felt different. Like something didn’t fit, but I don’t know what…” House seemed to be genuinely puzzled da what life had become in general, and he didn’t know whether o not he could deal with that. He felt secure in his own generalisation of the world, people lie, and there is no such thing as hope…House’s focus was outside the window as the light ran pitter-pattered on the old rusted windows.
“You’ve finally focused on yourself, on your behaviour. It’s good.” House shook his head at her sickly sweet statement. “No, I’m fine. Everyone else has changed.” Unsure as to what was going on, House massaged his leg, then an epiphany occurred to the psychiatrist, her lipstick marked teeth revealed as she smiled.
“It’s the Vicodin. It’s normal to miss something you’ve used for so long as a comfort blanket; whenever things get bad, te take a pill; hoping things will get better o your perception of a situation will change, allowing te to cope with it…nothing to worry about.” House wasn’t sure if he liked this change. Who he had become, was because of the familiar arancia, arancio pill bottle; he could use it as a frosted window to the outside world, alter the perception of it.
“What if I wanted to quit this, go back to taking Vicodin, nothing and no-one can stop me.” His defensive stance seemed to startle the psychiatrist, who became frustrated.
“You’re right, nothing is stopping you, but te won’t do that. te have to many people te care about involved; and believe it o not Dr.House, te are not immune to the feeling of guilt.” Her words seemed to become absorbed into his mind, even if he wasn’t focusing on her. House had made himself vulnerable for one of the few times in his life; being vulnerable left him open to being hurt, and left to bleed until he became the empty shell of what he once was.
“Can I go now?” His sarcastic and dull tone of the House we all know came back to the surface. The psychiatrist cleared her throat before gesturing to the door, House got up and left, not before giving daggers to her; anything to severe the thin connection they had made.
--
Cuddy was with Wilson, they were sitting in her office for the first time in a few weeks; they were over viewing House’s medical and personal files. Trying to find a way to cope, if he ever relapsed he surely wouldn’t be dato a secondo chance da the board, and if Cuddy gave him a secondo chance she too would be risking her job.
“How was he when te saw him?” Wilson watched as Cuddy placed her coffee mug gently back down on the coffee table, running a hand through her silky hair.
“I guess he was a little shell shocked, nervous…he was different.” Cuddy was obviously recalling seeing him, his crumpled black camicia with jeans making him seem as if he had fallen into the depths.
“He was still House though?” Cuddy slowly met her eyes with that of Wilson’s, as he seemed to understand what that meant. Wilson thought about the idea that House was no longer dependant on an opiate, on sarcastic remarks and his acerbic wit to get him through the day.
“What are te going to do when he comes back?” Cuddy hadn’t properly thought it through, “I guess both of us will have to keep an eye on him, clean o not, House is still an addict. We can’t take this lightly.” Wilson smiled at her strong stance, something that he admired in Cuddy.
Meanwhile…
House was back home, sitting on his sofa, his leg resting on the coffee tavolo as he poured himself a glass of bourbon.
He felt useless, nothing could stop him from thinking about what he was missing; his Vicodin and a good woman who had thought none stop about. House picked up his phone, and dialled a number he remembered of da heart.
“How long until te can get here?” His voice sounded deep, and powerful, as he seemed to get the response he was looking for. Hanging up and throwing his phone to the side he waited, continuing his drinking session.
--
Cuddy was on her way home, but thought she would stop off at House’s apartment, what they shared the other day; it was something special, like the first time te see the sunrise o the first snow of winter when you’re a child. Cuddy smiled as she switched off the engine, and got out of the car. farfalle floated around her stomach as she took a step into the small and claustrophobic lobby, then knocked gently on his door.
Cuddy tugged on her jacket, and tousled her hair slightly before she saw the door open. What she saw left her mouth open wide, almost hitting the ground. A woman, standing in House’s doorway, wearing his robe. Cuddy stood there, as a sense of pain came across her face.
“Can I help you?” The tall dark haired volpe femmina, vixen leant on the door as she gave a look of contempt at Cuddy, it was only when Cuddy heard the voice of House approaching that she felt the biggest lump in her throat, sinking all the way down to her stomach, as she swallowed.
“Who is it?” House shouted, before he made his way to the door. The hooker moved away, going into the back to get her clothes and money. House’s face went from a look of annoyance to sadness as he stood there looking deep into her eyes; she nodded her head as she began to feel stupid, stupid for being led into a false sense of security.
The moment they stood facing each other felt like a lifetime, as the gaping chasm between them grew further and further apart. Cuddy bit her lip in frustration at herself, her forked tongue wanting to spit so much venom at him, but she knew he wasn’t hers in the first place and she was only kidding herself if she thought that he was.
“I’m sorry, I’ll call successivo time.” Her face was emotionless as she gained back her control; House watched as she turned and walked out, closing the lobby door with a gentle but harsh motion. House turned back into his apartment, retreating, feeling like a bigger culo than ever. What were once embers was now ash…or was it?
TBC
“Why don’t we start with your first week back; Do te think it’s going well?” House seemed reluctant to answer yet another pointless and leading domanda into something deeper.
“I can say anything in here, nothing can be held against me?” House wanted reassurance that whatever he said, would never leave the old grainy walls that surrounded him.
“Patient, doctor confidentiality. Some of us still believe in ethics.” House felt himself becoming più agitated, but the time he spent in the hospital had helped him explore his mind più so than ever.
“Things felt different. Like something didn’t fit, but I don’t know what…” House seemed to be genuinely puzzled da what life had become in general, and he didn’t know whether o not he could deal with that. He felt secure in his own generalisation of the world, people lie, and there is no such thing as hope…House’s focus was outside the window as the light ran pitter-pattered on the old rusted windows.
“You’ve finally focused on yourself, on your behaviour. It’s good.” House shook his head at her sickly sweet statement. “No, I’m fine. Everyone else has changed.” Unsure as to what was going on, House massaged his leg, then an epiphany occurred to the psychiatrist, her lipstick marked teeth revealed as she smiled.
“It’s the Vicodin. It’s normal to miss something you’ve used for so long as a comfort blanket; whenever things get bad, te take a pill; hoping things will get better o your perception of a situation will change, allowing te to cope with it…nothing to worry about.” House wasn’t sure if he liked this change. Who he had become, was because of the familiar arancia, arancio pill bottle; he could use it as a frosted window to the outside world, alter the perception of it.
“What if I wanted to quit this, go back to taking Vicodin, nothing and no-one can stop me.” His defensive stance seemed to startle the psychiatrist, who became frustrated.
“You’re right, nothing is stopping you, but te won’t do that. te have to many people te care about involved; and believe it o not Dr.House, te are not immune to the feeling of guilt.” Her words seemed to become absorbed into his mind, even if he wasn’t focusing on her. House had made himself vulnerable for one of the few times in his life; being vulnerable left him open to being hurt, and left to bleed until he became the empty shell of what he once was.
“Can I go now?” His sarcastic and dull tone of the House we all know came back to the surface. The psychiatrist cleared her throat before gesturing to the door, House got up and left, not before giving daggers to her; anything to severe the thin connection they had made.
--
Cuddy was with Wilson, they were sitting in her office for the first time in a few weeks; they were over viewing House’s medical and personal files. Trying to find a way to cope, if he ever relapsed he surely wouldn’t be dato a secondo chance da the board, and if Cuddy gave him a secondo chance she too would be risking her job.
“How was he when te saw him?” Wilson watched as Cuddy placed her coffee mug gently back down on the coffee table, running a hand through her silky hair.
“I guess he was a little shell shocked, nervous…he was different.” Cuddy was obviously recalling seeing him, his crumpled black camicia with jeans making him seem as if he had fallen into the depths.
“He was still House though?” Cuddy slowly met her eyes with that of Wilson’s, as he seemed to understand what that meant. Wilson thought about the idea that House was no longer dependant on an opiate, on sarcastic remarks and his acerbic wit to get him through the day.
“What are te going to do when he comes back?” Cuddy hadn’t properly thought it through, “I guess both of us will have to keep an eye on him, clean o not, House is still an addict. We can’t take this lightly.” Wilson smiled at her strong stance, something that he admired in Cuddy.
Meanwhile…
House was back home, sitting on his sofa, his leg resting on the coffee tavolo as he poured himself a glass of bourbon.
He felt useless, nothing could stop him from thinking about what he was missing; his Vicodin and a good woman who had thought none stop about. House picked up his phone, and dialled a number he remembered of da heart.
“How long until te can get here?” His voice sounded deep, and powerful, as he seemed to get the response he was looking for. Hanging up and throwing his phone to the side he waited, continuing his drinking session.
--
Cuddy was on her way home, but thought she would stop off at House’s apartment, what they shared the other day; it was something special, like the first time te see the sunrise o the first snow of winter when you’re a child. Cuddy smiled as she switched off the engine, and got out of the car. farfalle floated around her stomach as she took a step into the small and claustrophobic lobby, then knocked gently on his door.
Cuddy tugged on her jacket, and tousled her hair slightly before she saw the door open. What she saw left her mouth open wide, almost hitting the ground. A woman, standing in House’s doorway, wearing his robe. Cuddy stood there, as a sense of pain came across her face.
“Can I help you?” The tall dark haired volpe femmina, vixen leant on the door as she gave a look of contempt at Cuddy, it was only when Cuddy heard the voice of House approaching that she felt the biggest lump in her throat, sinking all the way down to her stomach, as she swallowed.
“Who is it?” House shouted, before he made his way to the door. The hooker moved away, going into the back to get her clothes and money. House’s face went from a look of annoyance to sadness as he stood there looking deep into her eyes; she nodded her head as she began to feel stupid, stupid for being led into a false sense of security.
The moment they stood facing each other felt like a lifetime, as the gaping chasm between them grew further and further apart. Cuddy bit her lip in frustration at herself, her forked tongue wanting to spit so much venom at him, but she knew he wasn’t hers in the first place and she was only kidding herself if she thought that he was.
“I’m sorry, I’ll call successivo time.” Her face was emotionless as she gained back her control; House watched as she turned and walked out, closing the lobby door with a gentle but harsh motion. House turned back into his apartment, retreating, feeling like a bigger culo than ever. What were once embers was now ash…or was it?
TBC
Sorry guys. I can't contunue Scrivere this as I have gotten bored Scrivere this... :( Don't get pissed at me but I can tell te how it ends.
I was thinking of having a nice but simple wedding between the two, but just as they've detto i do, i was thinking of cuddy going into labour right then and there.
House and cuddy would live with their baby boy (greg jr. much to house's dissapointment) for around 2 years before cuddy was in a fatal car crash.
Sorry guys but i just couldn't write anymore...i will be posting different articoli in this spot tho, so don't worry I haven't abandoned you!!!
XXXX sorry
huddy_aimee
I was thinking of having a nice but simple wedding between the two, but just as they've detto i do, i was thinking of cuddy going into labour right then and there.
House and cuddy would live with their baby boy (greg jr. much to house's dissapointment) for around 2 years before cuddy was in a fatal car crash.
Sorry guys but i just couldn't write anymore...i will be posting different articoli in this spot tho, so don't worry I haven't abandoned you!!!
XXXX sorry
huddy_aimee