A/N: I was pondering my friend's fic, 'If Whiteboards Could Talk', when I thought of this. Pretty random. Enjoy the fic.
Author: Hadley (of the Bloody Koalas)
Disclaimer: House is not one of the things that I pride myself in owning.
Disclaimer #2: Song is called 'Best Friend' from Brady.
I've never left him, my master, my friend. For I love him, and despite all of his selfish, snarky qualities, he is truly a man whose constant friendship with me is necessary. However dangerous our relationship may be.
Of course, he has Wilson. He has that man to be a friend to him. But the oncologist doesn't know House. Not everything. He has no idea about the rest. But I do. From every dark night, and every painful day, I know House. And I can relieve him of the terrible suffering that he endures day after day.
Emotional pain is the one that I have the trouble with. In that respect, I am the farthest from Wilson as possible. But I excel in the curing physical pain. That is what I'm good—no, great—at. Unlike Dr. Wilson, I don't use logic and reasoning to solve House's problems. I can't. I'm just not designed to do that, because I'm designed to heal. Which is what I'm good at. Together, we're a perfect match.
House's boss, a doctor who goes by the name of Lisa Cuddy, has a serious problem with me. But it's not my fault. I couldn't leave him if I wanted to. Besides, House needs me. Needs me. I suppose I take Stacy's place now, even though he still thinks about her. He told me that late at night, too.
I know a lot of things I shouldn't. But I only wish I could tell someone about them. Because House relies on me far too much. And one day, when I'm not here, he's going to need me a lot more that he should. And that scares me. Because no one can get into a serious relationship with me without devastating consequences. Believe me. I've been to their funerals. Every single heart-wrenching one.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that I love House, my master. But one day he is going to have to let go of me. And I don't know that he's ready to do that. Not yet. And not in the near future.
Tritter was bad news. And it taught House a lesson, one that should've had the desired effect. But it didn't. Instead of teaching him to wean himself off of me, it taught him to hide me. Because I was 'unacceptable'. And now I fear that he may end up like all the rest. Because he has to let go of me, let go of Vicodin, let go of narcotics all together, someday. He just has to.
Whenever I'm down
I call on you my friend
A helping hand you lend
In my time of need.
So, I'm calling you now
Just to make it good
What else can I do
For you hear my plea
Friends may come and friends may go
But you should know
That I've got your back.
I will, House. I swear. I've got your back. And I won't give up. Never.
