Disclaimer: I do own House, M.D., and it's relating characters, but only in my dreams.
Here's a Halloween Treat for all of you out there!
This was written a while ago, one of the other stories I found on my old computer, but it was half finished, and now it's finished! Thank goodness for laptops in school and study periods! Check out the song its based on "Heels Over Head" by Boys Like Girls. It was the theme song of my summer last year and just had to write about it.
But I'm rambling, so here it is. Enjoy!
**Heels Over Head**
House stood still, looking at the note she'd left, scrawled in messy handwriting he saw on so many forms and papers that passed through his hands, most of which going ignored.
'Couldn't take it anymore… needed to be alone for a while… call me when you learn to deal with pain.'
I got your runaway smile in my piggybank baby
Gonna cash it right in for a new Mercedes
You were worth a hundred thousand miles
But you couldn't stay awhile
He shrugged, ignoring the 'psychological pain' Wilson was always going on about that was creeping up his torso, resting in his heart. He didn't think about it, or delve into why she left.
Instead he simply popped a vicodin and limped towards the closet, getting ready for work.
I got your little brown shirt in my bottom drawer baby
And your little white socks in the top drawer
You were always leaving your shit around
And gone without a sound
He opened the drawer of his dresser and reached for a T-shirt to throw on. Instead, he pulled out a low cut brown blouse.
Hers.
House closed his eyes and sighed, throwing the shirt aside venomously, blinking hard. He had not cried in years and wasn't planning on starting again over a woman.
Yeah I'm the first to fall,
And the last to know
Where'd you go?
Limping into the hospital that day had to have been the hardest thing he had done in a while. He smirked and sneered on the outside, as usual, but died on the inside.
But if you told him he was dying on the inside, he'd send you for a brain scan, sure that a tumor was forming on the cogitative section of your mind.
Because there was no way Dr. Gregory House was broken hearted. No way.
Now I'm heels over head,
I'm hangin' upside-down
Thinkin' how you left me for dead
California bound
Wilson walked into his office a few hours later, as House tossed his red ball against the door, hand out, waiting for it to come back to him.
"I called Lisa's sister…" He said, trailing off. House didn't even share him a scathing glance.
"She said that Lisa moved- er, left- for California for a while." It was then House glanced up at him, his stony eyes cold, becoming barriers.
"Is that so?" He asked, feigning disinterest. Wilson eyes him closely.
"Are you alright?" He asked tentatively. But House didn't answer. He was out of vicodin, and already out the door on the way to the hospital pharmacy, forgetting about the ball that had never bounced back to him.
I got a first class ticket to a night all alone
And a front row seat up right by the phone
'Cause you're always on my mind
And I'm running out of time
He sat down on the couch, looking at the piano, then to the gin and tonic on the table in front of him, and lastly to the phone to his right.
But he wasn't waiting for her to call. And he wasn't thinking of her. Of her big brown eyes, or dark, cascading hair, or witty comments.
No, he was thinking of taking a vicodin or two and getting so drunk that he passed out.
Drunk enough to forget.
I've got your hair on my pillow
And your smell in my sheets
And it makes me think about you
With the sand in your feet
Is it all you thought it'd be?
You mean everything to me
He succeeded in getting drunk, but not enough to pass out. Dragging himself to bed, hoping that sleep would be the best option at the moment, ignoring the pain in his leg, he plopped himself down on the mattress, head hitting the pillow gently.
Immediately, he went into sense overload, Her smell filling his nostrils, clouding his mind in a fuzzy haze, rendering him speechless, thoughtless.
Her perfume.
Her shampoo.
Her hairspray.
Her scent.
Maybe sleep wouldn't be the best thing for him.
But I'm the first to fall,
And the last to know
Where'd you go?
Now I'm heels over head,
I'm hangin' upside-down
Thinkin' how you left me for dead
California bound
"House?" Wilson asked, concerned. "Are you ok?"
"House?" Cameron asked, concerned as well. "Did you hear me?"
"House?" Chase asked in his thick accent, brows furrowing together as he looked at his boss intently.
"House...?" Foreman asked, waving a hand in front of his face, leaning in to check the doctor's pupils for dilation. "You alright?"
House. Everyone seemed to be calling for him. Everyone but her.
And when you hit the coast
I hope you think of me
And how I'm stuck here with the ghost
Of what we used to be
He found himself watching the national news more often now.
"And its going to be hot, hot, hot in sunny California this weekend!"
Pan to a shot of the beaches. He learned to look across the scene, taking in as much as he could at once, incase he saw that telltale willowy brown hair, or her big eyes, or…
The shot ended, and he shut the T.V. off, as the news switched to some story about a serial killer in Ohio.
He didn't need to be anymore depressed than he already was.
You're burning bridges baby
Making wishes
Yeah you're burning bridges baby
Making wishes
You're burning bridges baby
Making wishes
Yeah you're burning bridges baby
Making wishes
He wasn't stalking her, per se. No, he was a doctor, so he needed to keep up with the times, the different medical articles. Even the ones from California.
Dr. Lisa Cuddy to head Department of Diagnostics at California Medical-
Groundbreaking work being done under the supervision of Dr. Cuddy-
Deal made at California Medical, Dr. Lisa Cuddy-
He could hardly put the medical journals down. So much of her name, the closest he could get to her without admitting that he needed her.
Because he didn't need her, and he'd rather die than admit it was a lie.
You're a chance taker, heartbreaker,
Got me wrapped around your finger
Chance taker, heartbreaker,
Got me wrapped around your finger
For the longest time, he thought it was he that was deceiving her.
Manipulation, lies, insane gestures of secret affection, it was all packaged in with their romance, and he was the one that brought it to the table.
Thinking it over now, though, he was questioning even this small bit of fact. Here he was, sitting at the piano on a Friday night, doing absolutely nothing, not even playing. Just staring at the phone, willing it to ring.
If you'd have asked him months ago, had they been together at the time, what would happen if either of them left the other, he would have replied easily. He would go on fine if she left him, and if he chose some other broad to be with, she would be devastated.
The tables were turning on him, and he didn't like it.
I got your runaway smile in my piggybank baby
Gonna cash it right in for a new Mercedes
If I drive a hundred thousand miles
Would you let me stay a while?
He could see her now. She was staring at him, mouth slightly agape, a smile playing around the corner of her eyes.
'House?' she asked his name, quiet, disbelieving. He nodded, walking towards her, the street emptying in the fading sunlight.
She'd hugged him, and they'd leaned close together, lips almost touching, promises of how they'd stay together.
And then he'd woken up.
The smile on his lips fading quickly as the pain in his leg returned, but not nearly as the doubled ache in his chest.
It wasn't a broken heart, though. No, he decided, it was most likely heart burn, or he had a tumor pressing down on his right aortic valve.
Because his heart was most certainly not broken.
It couldn't be.
Now I'm heels over head,
I'm hangin' upside-down
Thinkin' how you left me for dead
California bound
Wilson told him that he hoped for her to come back. He scoffed at the oncologist, saying that hoping would accomplish nothing, and there was no point in it, seeing as she obviously wasn't coming back.
Wilson told him not to think like that. House yelled that he had no right in telling him how and what to think.
Wilson yelled that he was being an ass, and that's why she had left.
For once in his life, House had nothing to say back.
And when you hit the coast
I hope you think of me
And how I'm stuck here with the ghost
Of what we used to be
Little things around the hospital threw him into dazes.
He'd find pill prescriptions authorized with her name and stare at them for moments at a time.
Forms with her signature on them left him momentarily shaken, caught off guard.
Dinner receipts, dry cleaning ticket, movie stubs, they all brought back painful memories of happier times, times he wouldn't change for the world.
Times he could never get back.
Now I'm heels over head,
I'm hangin' upside-down
Thinkin' how you left me for dead
California bound
He counted days at first. Sixteen, Twenty Seven, Thirty, Thirty Four. Then days turned into months. Two, then Three, then Four.
It was almost a year before he could admit that he missed her.
Almost a year and a half before he could understand why she had left.
Almost two before he could cry about her.
And it took until now to realize that he loved her, and that Wilson was right, those years ago, that there was nothing to do but hope.
Hope, and keep loving her.
And when you hit the coast
Maybe you'll finally see
And then you'll turn it all around
And you will come back to me
**Hope you enjoyed! Remember, Reviews = Love.**