I own nothing.
House. Well, that's a complicated topic. I guess a good place to start is the truth. I am in love with him.
I have always been attracted to intelligent people. I would never pick a handsome man over a smart one. House just happens to be both.
I know he was a legend when he was in school. Cuddy told me. I always smile, thinking about that. I can imagine him in college. Except for the lack of a limp. It was wonderful, but very foreign, when he didn't use his cane after Moriarty shot him. House without a cane is like Groucho Marx without the glasses, nose, and moustache. I know, I know, House would heckle me mercilessly for my poor analogy. In any case, I was not at all surprised that House was as extraordinary back then as he is now. I'm sure he could be no less.
Chase, Foreman, and I are so lucky to work with him. It's so incredible, the way he diagnoses all these people. Sometimes, I admit, it takes him several attempts, but he always gets it before it is too late. Well, almost always. And although most observers would probably say that he is too nonchalant about the lives we lose, I don't think so. I think he and I are alike in this manner. I can get so upset about ruining people's lives that I can hardly do my job. House escapes this paralysis by pretending not to care, but I have witnessed him being extremely rattled after a death.
I hated House at first. I'm certain everyone who had met him hated him at first, but I got past that. This, if nothing else, is proof that I don't just love him because he's 'damaged'. I saw that his leg pained him the day I interviewed for the position, and I wondered at the possibility of psychosis upon hearing him speak. I didn't think anyone could be so cold and sarcastic. If it was my tendency to latch onto damaged people, I would have done so immediately, or at least after he made his first jibe at me.
I don't deny that I like taking care of House, however. It has nothing to do with his leg, or anything like that. I enjoy caring for him the way I would a husband. I like making him tea, even though he pretends to hate it. I couldn't help being concerned about him when he was in pain, and I wouldn't bother hiding my worry. Despite appearances, House takes amazing care of the three of us, such good care that I'm afraid he forgets to give himself much notice.
It took me a long time to figure him out, but I think he understood me within the first month of working together. He isn't completely off base with his accusation of me falling for damaged people; it just doesn't apply to him. I married my husband because he was dying and had no family, and I didn't want him to be alone at the end. I know I ended up hurting myself, possibly more than I helped him, but I can't regret it as long as there is any chance that the succor I gave him was more than my pain.
I love working for House. I love the camaraderie I have with Chase and Foreman, and to a certain extent Cuddy and Wilson. Princeton-Plainsboro is home to me, a home as I have never had, not even with my husband. I love that we can talk to each other about more than medicine. I even sometimes like House's jokes. I really do hate sports metaphors, though.
Most of all, I love House. Maybe it's naïve, holding onto my feeling for him, but I don't think so. Sometimes he will look at me differently than anyone else, and he will talk to me about many things that he won't mention to Chase and Foreman. He entrusted me to give him Ketamine, and his eyes found mine among the crowd of people around him as he lay on the gurney. I hope his eyes continue to fall on me. I'll always be there, waiting for him.