Thirty Day Therapy Diary
"House, you have to. Everyone on the team has to." Cuddy said, on the brink of yelling at exploding as House once again tried to get around something necessary. "The therapist told me that the healing process can't begin until you've all gotten your feelings out."
"Kutner's death is regrettable, but I do not need to let my feelings out. I think I already did that. No need to dwell on it anymore," House said, turning to leave.
"If you participate I'll give you thirty days off of clinic duty. One day off for every day you write something down."
He paused, and then turned around, knowing that the diary was a lesser pain in his ass than clinic duty. "Two months. I promise, I'll be deep."
She looked him over and then nodded. "Fine. I hope this helps you."
House stalked out of the office, a smirk plastered all over his face. "She gave in and let you off?" Foreman asked skeptically.
"Nope. I decided it would do me some good to let out my emotions," House said, shuffling past him. Foreman snorted in reply. "Hey, I'm a deep guy," House told his team over his shoulder as they followed him in the direction of the elevators. "Go run a full work up on the patient. He's probably more interesting than me anyway."
"Right. More interesting than you giving in to Cuddy," Foreman said, rolling his eyes.
"Didn't give in, but you're right. I'm fabulous," House said, closing the elevator.
House growled, annoyed that he was being forced to write a diary entry a day about his feelings. Wilson stood behind him, as per Cuddy's orders to make sure that he actually did write things down. He pondered for a moment before deciding to use the loop hole that presented itself. Cuddy had only said that he had to write something down everyday about his feelings…she hadn't specified what feelings. He began to type with fervor and Wilson leaned over his shoulder to read.
'Day One:
Today I was forced into starting a journal to describe my feelings after Kutner's death. I feel that he is gone…because he is. Otherwise I am extremely annoyed. Idiots want to make me confront my feelings and read over my shoulder to make sure that I have indeed put thoughts into word. I am smug as I will not have to work in the clinic, which, by the way, is completely useless. I am hungry because it's nearly lunchtime and Wilson has yet to totter off to the cafeteria so I can scam him to get my meal.'
"Very insightful," Wilson said sarcastically. "I suppose you did write something, though. That's more than I expected. Let's go get a sandwich."
"OK." House stood and followed his friend out of the office. He was pleased with himself and loved the diary requirement already. He could use it to get under Cuddy's skin and to get his way in the form of lunch!