Disclaimer: I do not own House, M.D. My name is not David Shore, Bryan Singer, or Katie Jacobs. I am definitely not named Fox.
Note: This takes place a little before the events of Humpty Dumpty.
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She had often wished that life was perfect.
Even as she grew up, and most of her ideals were viciously stomped upon by the world around her, she had continued to beg for it in her head.
I wish life was perfect. I wish life was perfect. I wish life was perfect. I wish –
However, wishing never really did anything, at least not for her. Wishing didn't keep her childhood home, the house among the maple trees that had been in her mother's family for generations, from being lost to the greedy, callous jaws of a bulldozer. It didn't help her beloved grandfather's mind from slipping away, until he was an empty shell of what he had once been. It certainly did nothing for her when the scholarship that she had asked so hard for was given to someone else, a girl with Italian leather shoes and a yellow Porsche.
When she had first met him, with his stellar blue eyes and lacerating wit, she had wished again that he might notice her, see her smiling for him and only him. As she soon found out, wishing was useless for a man like him.
Instead, she tried doing rather than wishing, and it seemed to work. She pushed through college and medical school with top grades. She snagged the job of her dreams, and later, she somehow captured an administrative post, making her one of the few and youngest female heads in the country.
She was thrilled. Maybe all those people were wrong. Maybe life could be made perfect if she worked hard enough.
Soon, work slowly took over her life. By the time she was thirty-five, only four names were in her address book.. There were dates, but none lasted beyond the first four. Most nights were spent in her office with her head on her desk.
She was in her late thirties. Her life, the way she had imagined it as a child, was perfect. She was still attractive with a great job, plenty of money, and a beautiful home. Her hospital was the toast of the medical community. She even had him with her, although it was as her employee rather than her partner.
Her life was perfect. Yes, she was still wracked with guilt over what she had done to him, but that was in the past, wasn't it?
Was it?
True, she was still single. No childish footsteps rang through the rooms of her home, and rarely did anyone simply pop in for a visit. She could handle it, though.
Could she?
Life was perfect. It was. She had gotten all of what she had asked for.
Had she?
If her life had finally gained perfection, she should be happy. Fulfilled.
So why did she feel so empty? Why did her life feel so. . .
Imperfect?
Fin.