There is a piano in Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital because of Dr. Gregory House. No one else has ever been seen playing it, and it is seldom noticed, except for the odd thought in passing of why is there a piano in a hospital.
House was sitting in his office, legs propped up on his desk per usual, playing his Gameboy while Cameron, Chase and Foreman bickered about their latest patient, when he heard the opening strains of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. The deep sounds of the lamentation echoed through the halls and House found himself putting down his game and sitting up. Without a word to the others, he grabbed his cane and huffed out into the hall.
He came within sight of the piano as the second movement began and stopped in his tracks. Sitting on the lacquered bench was a young woman with shoulder length, straight, sandy blonde hair. Her nimble fingers flickered across the keys and he could see one foot caressing the pedal below. The other foot was curled underneath her in a distinctly childlike manner.
Others had followed the music as well. Cameron, Chase and Foreman had followed House, Wilson was watching from the other side with a smile on his face and Cuddy had just come up behind House. All of them, with the exception of both House and Wilson, were wondering who is this person? The young pianist stayed gentle on the keys as the Sonata continued, straying from the norm of the flamboyant final movement.
The song ended and she rested for but a moment before beginning again. The soft notes flew past and her fingers skated across the keys in quick precise movements. Unbeknownst to most, she missed a key and thus, missed a step in the adagio. House, who had heard this particular concerto many times before noticed however. And that is what settled his conclusions.
Branching off from the crowd, House and his cane made their way over to Wilson, followed closely by Cuddy. When he arrived and saw the woman from Wilson's perspective, his conclusions were affirmed, completely. Taking a bottle surreptitiously from his pocket he gently, trying to be quiet, popped the top off the bottle and popped a pill into his mouth. At the sound of rattling pills, the pianist hesitated for an instant and then continued as if nothing had happened.
Her blue eyes flickered from the top of the piano to House and the hint of a smile fought at her lips. When her eyes met Wilson's, she didn't bother hiding the smile because they both knew what she was doing to House. A new form of torture that only she could master. As the Sonata came to an end the second time, she rested her hands in her lap, before rising and turning to leave through the crowd of people that had gathered.
Quick only when he wanted to be, House followed her swiftly and grabbed her waist with his cane, before she even made it past his trio of doctors. She stopped immediately, as if she had anticipated it and turned around slowly. Her blue eyes looked up in a matching pair and she said nothing, just stared.
"You missed a step on the adagio," House said gruffly, releasing his cane's grip and leaning heavily against it.
"I always have," came the woman's reply, no trace of gruffness or offence.
"Well, fix it."
"I was taught that way."
"Who the hell taught you that?"
"You." The woman smiled up at House and reached up to run her hand along his perpetual five o'clock shadow. "And you really do need to shave."
Always one for the last line, House replied with a quick comeback. "The ladies love the scruff."
"And they dig the cane too, eh?" she replied easily, tapping his cane with one of her shoes, echoing a reply he'd once given. "I never got the fascination, but…" She trailed off, not bothering to finish, knowing House would understand the jab at his masculinity.
Leaning up, she quickly brushed his cheek with a kiss and twirled around, heading towards Wilson's office.
"Who was that?" Cameron asked, coming up beside a slightly dazed House.
"Lenny."
"Lenny?"
"Lenny… my daughter."