"I'm saying it because it's true. Inside of us, we both know you belong with Victor. You're part of his work, the thing that keeps him going. If that plane leaves the ground and you're not with him, you'll regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life," Rick, Casablanca

The television flashes nosily in the background. Discarded cardboard packages containing takeout, disposable chopsticks, and empty beer bottles litter the coffee table. He's lying back against the couch with his feet up on the table. He's half asleep from a combination of the booze the MSG and his pills.

I can't bring myself to hate him. Despite everything we've been through, after everything he's done to me, I still love him. He's my life, and I'm not sure I can help him. Part of me isn't even sure that I want to. I'm not even positive that I'm angry about this latest stunt of his. What he did. . . I can't imagine too many men would ever turn down sex. And pushing her away like that kept her from shattering him and in the process Mark. A lot of people would consider him a hero but they would be wrong. He doesn't care about Mark, he can hardly bring himself to care about Stacy, and sometimes—almost everyday—I'm not even sure whether or not he cares about me.

"There's nothing heroic about what you've done. You're not protecting him or her. Your not even protecting yourself." I want to say more but House cuts me off. He doesn't actually say anything, just pushes the volume button on the remote so many times it makes me wonder how long before the neighbors complain. The movie ends and the credits roll. He shuts off the TV and heads towards the bedroom. Nothing is said but I know I'm supposed to follow.

He tosses his shirt onto the floor and then sits on the bed to start taking off his shoes. I sit by his side and take his hand in mine. He yanks it away and shoots me a demanding look. Without a word he orders me to strip. There's the usual five minutes of frantic confused fumbling as we try to find a position that will cause him the least amount of pain.

Then we roll and tumble between the sheets, kissing, thrusting, tugging, sucking, pushing, pulling, and every other sweaty, sticky ing in the English language and even a few more. All of this is done without either of us saying a word. There are grunts, and squeals, and moans, and sighs, but that's all fairly common place in fucking.

Afterwards he counts out at least one pill more than he ought to be taking in a single sitting, and chews them all. Then he gives me another look and without saying a word, tells me that I can speak again.

"Do you ever think about that movie," he blurts out before I get a chance to say anything.

"No more than I think about any movie." I stop mid sentence as he gets up and goes to the bathroom. Although weather it is to clean or relieve himself I cant be sure. I say nothing and simply wait for his return.

"Say would you happen to have anymore of that pot, would you?" he calls from the bathroom.

"I told you it was a patients. You know, most people would consider this obsessive." There's no point in finishing though. He's not going to listen. I learned a long time ago that he's not going to change no matter what I say or do. That's just it. Greg is Greg. House is House. He's always been that way and always will be.

So there you have it. My life summed up in his lies, and his pain and his misery. When he comes back from the bathroom his brain has traveled back to the movie. Nothing like a couple Vicodin to clear your mind and narrow your thought process.

"You don't wonder what happens to everyone after the story is over? You know, Rick, Louis, Victor," he stops but I know there's more. There's always more.

"Ilsa? No. I don't wonder, but that's just me. The move ends. It's an ending. It doesn't mater that we don't know everything. Nobody cares and if they do they just assume that everyone lives as happily ever after as humanly possible."

"Do you think she's happy? I mean of course she had to choose to leave with him. She didn't even really choose, but do you think she's happy?"

Now how the hell am I supposed to answer that?