The Ramblings and Happenings of a Hospital Administrator
Disclaimer: I don't own House or any of the character involved nor the setting. The plot and thoughts are mine, but that is all. Please don't sue me. I don't have much money!
If love were that easy, who would want it? If the time spent listening to your loved one wasn't worth it, then why do people still do it? If the person you love doesn't love you, then what do you do? What do you do? What do I do?
Walking slowly down the hallway, I run my hand against the cool concrete walls that are painted white with a different color stripes on them so that I can tell what floor I'm on. Sometimes, I feel as if they were painted for me, for although I am the administrator of this hospital, I still don't know where everything is. I do know where one thing is though; Greg House's Office.
It's in the back of the third floor right next to the window. It must be scary, incased in glass, but he hasn't complained. Sometimes I've watched him, from the shadows, stare out the window as if he's waiting for her—waiting for Stacey to come back. It hurts him, as well as me to think about her, yet I do it all the same.
I wonder why she left him, in his most vulnerable state. When he needed her the most, she turned away from him. Not only by physically leaving, but also by taking his leg muscle. She did the all-evil thing, became the devil in his eyes, and took away any sense of trust he had.
Some times I hate her, for what she did. Some times I think of her as a friend and sometimes I think of her as Greg's property although she's gotten married. I went to the wedding, with James and it was nice; sort of. She was beautiful, more beautiful than I can remember and her husband, he seemed nice enough. He was more what's the right word-unlike House. The cake was beautiful and so was the reception, the flowers and everything else.
Now, after the wedding, I am glad that it wasn't House she married. I do believe she loved him, but I don't believe she was anymore in love with him than she is now. I guess its kind of good right? It gives me a chance. I'm starting to depress myself. All of this talk about Stacey… I just can't deal with it.
I stop in front of his office and hiding behind the wall, I watch silently wishing my hopes upon him as a child does on Santa Claus. With all my might, as if I could transfer my feeling to him, I tell him that I… like him. I don't love him. I can't love him. He won't let me. Or maybe it's that I won't let me.
The man infuriates me so much that I could scream. His stubbornness is irritating, his cockiness is appalling, his need to be right turns him arrogant, and his… smirk, the one that… the smirk that makes me laugh out loud.
For some reason, I can't admit that I like him. Out loud, on paper in my diary that no one knows I keep, or where I keep it. I feel that if I admit my feelings, I'll become like Cameron, the doctor who works with House. (That's her Indian name). It's not that I don't like Allison, it's just that I've seen what he's done to her and I don't think I'm strong enough to handle it.
A burst of courage fills my body and I walk toward his room. He's listening to his Ipod and singing along quietly as he throws this tennis ball at the glass window. His ability to multi-task is inspiring, and crazily sexy, for some reason unknown. Tapping on the glass, I walk in while he stares at me. He doesn't say anything to me, nothing sarcastic, nothing arrogant. This fact makes me frown a small frown, for although I complain about his harassment, I secretly enjoy it.
After a moment, I feel something hit me in the side of the head. It is his tennis ball. "Paging Doctor Cuddy," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You are needed for a breast reduction down in the OR"
It is at times like this, that I a) would have slapped him, or b) told him off, but today, I can't. All I can do is laugh until I can no longer think straight and this is why I ask a stupid question. "I though you liked them, considering how much you complement them."
He looks at me, shock showing in his crystal clear blue eyes for a brief moment before he says something sarcastic again. I don't know what else to say, so I look at him with what I hope to be my most piercing glance. I've already screwed up by laughing and I can't take the chance to doing something else stupid. "Your blouses show them off very nicely. I've even seen Vogler staring"
I caught that part and I now start to wonder if Vogler stares. I haven't noticed it, but, you never know. These thoughts fill my mind and before I can begin to stop myself, words spill from my mouth and I have no control. "I like you House."