Disclaimer: Not mine; I just subject them to my half-baked plots.
A/N: Attempt 2 for a House fic. Kinda sorta companion to "Silence" Can be read separately; they're both just in the same sort ofintrospective vein.
I dreamt that I was back in college.
It was such a long time ago, or so it seems now. Perhaps it wasn't time that passed me by so quickly but rather the changes in myself that progressed so rapidly that who I was in college would barely recognize who I am now. I know this, I've accepted it--but it still catches me off guard every once in awhile.
I dreamt that I was running, the soothing repetitive rhythm of my tennis shoes connecting with the asphalt track was the only sound, turning, turning, turning, running endlessly in circles with no thought and no worry, ever crossing through my brain. The dark of the night blanketed the outside world from my vision and the track was only illuminated with the few light posts around it, flickering hesitantly in the night as if it were frightened of some unknown demon. Maybe it was afraid of me--the darkness seemed to wrap itself around me like an old friend and suddenly I realized that I was lost and alone. When darkness is your only friend, things tend to get depressing in a hurry. It was like this night after night after night and it went on forever until I wanted to scream. Me, running in the utter solitude of the dark night, forever alone.
I awoke with an abrupt jerk from the dream. I lay there for a moment, re-establishing my bearings in the darkness of my bedroom. I lay there, coated in sweat and I listened to the rhythmic patter of the rain on my windows and the occasional low sound of a motorist driving by, heralded by the brief flash of light that temporarily shone through my bedroom window. I glanced at the clock. Three A.M. Witching Hour. I snorted derisively at myself before I gingerly sat up and eased my legs over the edge of the bed, paying special attention to my some-what non-responsive right leg. I winced as the pain burned deep in my leg. I thought about taking a vicodin but for some reason, call it nostalgia, I decided to shun the hazy bliss of the meds for once. For this night at least.
I eased myself up and snagged my cane from its post at the end of my bed. My cane; another of my dubious constant companions. The dark, the silence, the cane and the vicodin. A regular happy family--for the clinically depressed.
I limped slowly out to my living room without bothering to turn on any lights. Some nights it's reassuring to walk around in the dark; it's as if I'm showing to all my inner demons that I'm not afraid of the darkness, not afraid of them--but that's me--I have to show up every body, even the non-existent entities that dwell in my mind.
After a moment that seems like years, I sat down at the piano. Ah, my piano; another member of the depressing family from hell; more like the black sheep, no pun intended, of the family--it was probably the most optimistic of the bunch. I stopped and laughed at myself for at least a full five minutes as I realized the utter ridiculousness of my thoughts. I was considering insubstantial material and inanimate objects as a part of my "family" and yet in truth they are constant--I can count on them to do the same things every day and every night. The dark will always come, my cane will always let me lean on it, bar pranks from a disgruntled housemates, the piano will always play a tune, and the vicodin will always ease the pain for awhile. Constant.
I began to play a meandering melody, nothing really specific--I just let my fingers roam over the ivory and ebony keys, keeping rhythm with the rain against the window and I thought about my dream. It wasn't so dissimilar from what happened in real life, I suppose. Except the change that broke the solitude in the darkness wasn't me waking up but rather the intrusion of something else. Someone else.
I was running around the track for the third time at about two or maybe it was three in the morning--I had been doing this for awhile and slowly it was causing me to become more….anti-social….not that I was ever a socialite but the solitude of running in the utter black of night with only a few lights to guide you…well that kind of silence you get used to and then you begin to resent people for talking and breaking that silence that you're used to hiding behind. Maybe that is when I really started in on the sarcasm. I was always a smartass but I think maybe that when I started running at night is when I started to get really abrasive.
So there I was running again, why I cant remember, when all the sudden I hear steps behind me and then they are in step with me. I remember being so angry--this was my time to be alone and someone else was intruding. I turn my head as I'm running and I remember opening my mouth to say something particularly scathing when I see who it is. It was the kid who just transferred to the college. He was kind of nerdy but he was smart as hell. Competent. A real Boy Wonder. He looked drained and frayed, his eyes were gritty looking and bloodshot. He turns to me with fire in his eyes like he's daring me to say anything and I find myself nodding in understanding.
We didn't talk for a long time but later when went out for coffee and talked for hours about everything and nothing at all. I was abrasive and he would make cracks at me right back. Like I said, competent.
After that I never ran alone…
All the way until I couldn't run anymore, I never ran alone.
I continued to play meandering notes on the piano as I faded out from the memory. I thought about how James Wilson, Boy Wonder, fits into my warped perception of my "family." I suppose that he's even more optimistic than the piano and he never let me be really alone after we met. Even after my infarction, there was Jimmy, like a faithful retriever, constantly kicked but coming back for more.
Chinese food on Christmas. I chuckled as I thought about how somehow that should be borderline sacrilegious….a Jew and an atheist eating Chinese for Christmas dinner. Jesus was turning in his grave. Especially with some of those jokes I was telling Wilson. Yeah, if God existed he would have been pissed and smote us both on the spot.
Yeah, Jimmy is like the mutt of my illusionary family--the loyal dog. Loyal. I mused over this as I stopped playing and stood. I walked to my room and got dressed without really thinking much about what I was doing. I put on a pair of jeans, tennis shoes, an old Stones shirt and my leather jacket. I limp to my front door and before I'm really conscious of what I'm doing, I'm walking. In the rain. In the dark. Down the street, turn left, turn right, straight for awhile and left again and then I realize that I don't even know where I'm going, just thinking and walking, getting wet and yet realizing that I don't give a damn.
I stopped and sat on a bench after awhile; my leg was hurting but my brain was so far away in memory and thought that I didn't mind so much. I saw a familiar car pull over and park near where I was, and then as a figure stepped out and tentatively calls out "House?" I realized that this is right near Wilson's house.
"Hey Jimmy!" I called out with an exaggerated amount of cheer that would probably annoy Wilson. And it did.
"House, what are you doing out here? It's raining!" He caustically replied to me as he walked towards me, flipping his coat collar up in a pitiful attempt to shield himself from some of the rain. Or something. He was an idiot sometimes.
"Really Sherlock? I thought I was dreaming that I was taking a swim and that was the reason I was all wet." I cocked my head sideways as I mustered up my best sarcastic 'really?' expression as if I was assessing whether or not it was really raining or if he was just yanking my chain.
Wilson sighed. So I cut him some slack.
"Actually I decided to go for a walk. Don't ask me why."
"Well you're a long way from your apartment now and it's getting colder. How about we got get some coffee over at that one little café on main street?"
"You're treat right?"
"Naturally."
"Sounds good. Let's go."
So we walked to his car, us two shadows walking side by side in the rain and the dark.
But not alone.
Never alone.