Not a Day Goes By, a house, m.d. fanfic

A/N This story violates both of my story writing rules. No fics with song lyrics in them (one-shots based off of lines from songs don't count), and no tragedies. However, you know how it is when the plots attack.

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters, or song

Not a day goes by

Not a single day

But you're somewhere a part of my life

And it looks like you'll stay

As the days go by

I keep thinking, "When will it end?

Where's the day I'll have started forgetting?"

But I just go on

Thinking and sweating

And cursing and crying

And turning and reaching

And waking and dying

I opened my eyes, and looked at the clock. 6:00 am. My cheeks were damp, just as they had been for the last 780 days. 781, now, I thought as I added a day to my mental calendar. 781 days, two hours, and forty-eight minutes since I held your hand as it gave its last half-hearted, out-of-your control jerk. 781 days, two hours, and forty-seven minutes since I read out your time of death. (May 13th, 3:13 am. A sort of poetic irony.) 381 days, two hours, and forty-nine minutes since I started sobbing into Wilson's shoulder.

I dragged myself out of bed, and got ready. I scrubbed the tears from my face, and washed my hair with the lavender shampoo that you used to smell like. I'm hoping to wash away the dreams that plagued me last night. The same dreams that have plagued me for the past 781 nights. The ones in which you lie there, screaming in agony, limbs jerking in ways you cannot control. I relive every moment of your last few days when I am asleep. Then, in the morning, I try and wash them away, even though I know I can't.

And no

Not a day goes by

Not a blessed day

And you're still somewhere part of my life

And you won't go away

So there's hell to pay

And until I die

I'll die day after day

After day after day

After day

Till the days go by

I lie in the hospital bed, the beeping of the machines monitoring my heart, blood pressure, and what not filling my ears. House opens the glass door. He walks over and just looks at me. "We could cure you."

"I know."

"You're an idiot." He turns and leaves, but I catch the glimmer of a tear on his cheek.

Chase is the next one to come in. "You gonna tell me that you can cure me, make me all better, and then help me get through the rest of my life happily?" I ask him bitterly.

"No." I look at him, questioning. "You were happy with her. You were always smiling, and laughing. It wasn't anywhere near what you were like when we were together. You haven't really smiled since she left. I can't give you what she did, and I can't save you from the pain she caused."

I nod. I know that's true. I haven't given more than a terse, forced smile in 1094 days, twelve hours, and thirteen minutes. He takes my hand, and sits next to my bedside. Wilson comes in a little later, joining Chase.

I can feel myself slipping away. I tighten my hand on Chase's, and grab for Wilson's. They lean close as I part my lips. "Goodbye," I whisper. The last thing I see is Wilson's tear-stained face.

Time of death: May 13th, 3:13 am