AN: A strange thought struck me the other night while I was leafing through Paradise Lost. I haven't written any House fiction in a while, so I thought I'd delve back into the cookie jar and see what I find... Chocolate Chip, I hope.
Disclaimer: I do not own the television show House MD. I do not own the characters of the television show House MD. All Paradise Lost references and borrowed lines are credited to John Milton; may he rest in pieces.
Book the First:
Forthwith upright he rears from off the pool / His mighty stature; on each hand the flames / Driven backward slope their pointing spires, and roll'd / In billows, leave i' th' midst a horrid vale.
The Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital was surrounded by mounds of snow, made worse only by the fact that it was still snowing, and the mounds were growing higher and higher. The nurses at the front station sighed, tapping pens on paperwork-free counters, bouncing knees barely covered by two-hundred dollar skirts, and humming tunes from the previous night's episode of Grey's Anatomy. The lobby was barren, an unexpected reprieve from the normal hustle and bustle, and the only thing that kept the women (and a few of the men) occupied was the thought of one man . . .
The nurse at the front-most desk sat up straight very suddenly, alerting the others' attention to the main entrance. A silhouette appeared several yards from the glass doors, slowly but surely pushing its way through the snow drifts and the whipping wind. The stance and stature was clearly male, and only one man owned that particular hitched swagger. The small crowd watched with bated anticipation, almost not daring to breathe, as he finally reached the doors and stretched out a gloved hand to enter.
0 o 0 o 0
Gregory House stepped foot into the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital as if it belonged to him – but who was he kidding, really; it did belong to him, as much as Cuddy denied it. His clothes dripped as warmth assaulted his frozen form, melting away the white powder on his gray coat, his red scarf, his black hat. One hand removed the cap from his peppered hair, and he ran long, nimble fingers through it, giving the locks a ruffled look. He hid a smirk as audible sighs echoed from the nurses' station.
"Morning, Ladies," he purred from the depths of his throat, not bothering to correct himself as he noticed a few of the male nurses staring at him as well. He started forward, making no eye contact but seeing every bitten lip, every powdered cheek flushed crimson, every eye darkened with a hint of lust. And he reveled in the fact that he was the cause of it, especially considering that not one of them knew him for who he really was.
They knew him by reputation, of course. But what was a reputation, really? Words to color the gray areas; pretty things to disguise the ugly. He rarely let anyone through his barrier. The ducklings came close, scaling the wall he surrounded himself with until they reached the top, only to find another wall in place. And, dare he say it, even Cuddy was nearly able to bypass his enclosure with her bull-dozing bosoms.
He pressed firmly on the elevator button, aware of every pair of eyes on his back. A smirk slipped past his mask, a devilish grin that not even he was accustomed to. Funny that such a thing could be called "devilish," considering where he had gotten his fame and looks from.
Oh, yes. Doctor Gregory House knew there was a God. He had stood before Him many, many times, fear and greed filling his being beyond anything he had ever felt before. Not until one brave soul had stood against the Almighty had he the courage to do the same. He had fought against his brethren, flaming sword against flaming sword. And when he was cast out with the others that had dared to defy Him, he found pain and anguish – not at all what he had been promised.
He was a Fallen, forced to live among those that could feel love and warmth and had the choice of redemption. But not him. Never him. He would live on earth until the end of time, and then he would exist only in darkness. His punishment for his crimes.
The elevator doors opened, and he stepped inside, swiveling around to offer the lobby occupants one last stark-blue glance before the door slide shut and he was left to his thoughts.
From the ashes a phoenix arises, an abandoned savior sent to redeem the deserving and destroy the wicked; an unrighteous soul to rectify the worthy.
AN: To be continued...
Apologies if the script is... strange. My OpenOffice word processor is currently not working. I can open it and type in it, but whenever I try to save something, it will not save it as an OpenOffice document, forcing me to copy and paste into Notepad and work out the kinks when I upload it on this site... Any suggestions would be welcome.
I suppose this will eventually become a House/Chase... Though we'll see where my fingers take me.
Later, Gators! Catch you in the next chapter.