Title: All
Those Other Words
Prompt: #2.7 Bitter for 50scenes
Rating: Teen
Summary: It could never
be said that Gregory House wasn't bitter.
Beta: Thanks so much to my fabulous beta GabbyAbby for
looking this over.
Disclaimer: I do not own House MD
or anything else in this little story.
There was nothing like being shot that made him feel even more insignificant.
He could hear her telling him to hang on just a while longer, that he was going to make it, that everything was going to be ok. But she probably told those words to everyone; she was up for Sainthood after all.
Her words were just clichés. They washed over him, only strengthening the feeling of his own worthlessness. Where was the white light when he needed it?
There he was, bleeding to death (probably, maybe) in his own office, in his own hospital for god's sake, and all he could think about was how insignificant he felt.
He was the bitter cripple, the useless doctor that could (almost always) save everyone, everyone but himself. This could be the end, and they would all forget him.
Paltry, trivial, meaningless. And all those other synonyms keep ringing through his head.
Cameron was still going on with her words of comfort, but they were hard to hear over those being shouted in his head, by a voice that sounds strangely too much like his father.
Pointless, superfluous, disposable.
He tried to listen to her instead, no matter how unimportant it made him feel. He didn't want that to be his last memory of her. He'd rather not live up to the self-fulfilling prophecy.
The more blood he loses, the more the words kept coming, both being pulled from him too fast for him to stop. He just wanted everything to stop.
Irreverent, inconsequential, not worth it.
His blood was on her hands. Would she remember it? Remember him? Or would she wash his blood down her drain remembering this as just another day at the office? Would she mourn him, would anyone?
The blackness had never felt more welcoming.
It could never be said that Gregory House wasn't bitter.