Story: For being the rebel he claims to be, sometimes he's really thinking too inside the box.
Author's note: For being the Hameron girl I claim to be he's ending up with other girls pretty often…
Disclaimer: Not mine, so don't sue, please?
Date: 16.12.2007
She is my Sin
Chapter 1: Eighteen
He was leaving the hospital, still debating if he should got to his date – job interview thingy with the nutricionist he had met only a few days ago.
Even if Wilson argued that he was destroying a relationship intentionally – she didn't seem to have a problem with people being unfatihful. She just didn't like people who were eating meat…
And Wilson had no right to criticize him, not after dosing him with antidepressants.
What did he know?!
House thought he definitely had the right to be depressed. After all of these months, after being shot, having gotten rid of the pain and then having it return, he had the fucking right.
Foreman was leaving, telling everybody he didn't want to turn into House.
Chase was doing Cameron. Or the other way round.
And he didn't need any pills to get rid of depression.
As if he hadn't been there before.
As if he hadn't managed nevertheless.
All he needed were the pills to get rid of the pain.
Sighing he turned to the parking lot instead of walking to the bar right across the street.
She would stay alone today because he would go home, and sulk behind closed curtains, maybe play his piano for a while and then drown his depression in a bottle of Jack.
First he didn't recognize her, sitting on his bike in lowrider jeans and a tank top under a light jacket, smiling at him while she was twirling a strand of her blond hair around her forefinger.
"Ali… what are you doing here?" he then asked, digging out the name of his little stalker that was still smiling widely at him while he was leaning on his cane, confusedly looking at her.
"My birthday was last week."
House sighed. He knew that.
Of course he knew it, he still had the calender she gave him in the drawer of his desk, reminding him of the little girl who was craving him of all people.
It had been flattering even when he had to find out that some spores were messing with her brain back then.
"And?"
She sighed, letting the strand fall onto her shoulders.
"I still can't get you out of my head. I don't think it were those spores…"
House sighed again.
It was so tempting, especially now when he felt like an old invalid.
"Ali. I am 45 and you are 18. I could be your father."
She looked at him sincerely.
"Don't you think I know that? I'm telling myself that I am crazy for so many months now, not that it is working."
"And what could I probably do about it that wouldn't leave you feeling like a whore and me like a pedophile?" he asked, deciding to be a bit more blunt, regretting it when her big blue eyes fixed on him, not a bit intimidated.
"Maybe it won't be like that."