What have I written this time? I'm not entirely sure where this came from... the last part was inspired by a music video... It's probably stupid, but guess what? I'm posting it anyway! I won't have my nifty

...weird...

writing thing... only once. It would be nice if you guys would review and say if this is stupid or not... Anyway, I don't own House, so don't sue me.

Wilson opened his eyes

…heart…

to find himself lying on the stage in the auditorium of Princeton-Plainsboro. He turned his head to the left. The curtain was drawn but the chairs in the audience were empty. He closed his eyes again; how had he gotten here?

His eyes snapped open as the floor began to hum. Somebody was at the piano.

Not bothering to sit up, Wilson rolled his head over to the right. No one was there. He pulled his head up so that his chin was resting on his collar bone. Nobody in this direction, either. Tilting his head, he checked behind him. Nothing but a pain in his back.

Where was the piano?

Closing his eyes again, Wilson sighed. He might as well lay here and listen.

The keys sang happily as Wilson moved his toes with the beat. It was a nice song… Wilson could swear it was from Peter and the Wolf, but he wasn't sure. He hadn't seen that old show in forever…

Now there was a new sound. Footsteps pounded on the stage as someone ran from one side to the other. Wilson opened one eye and looked over to his right. Both eyes became wide as he sat up.

House was running from one end of the stage to the other with a grin plastered across his face. Oblivious to Wilson sitting in the center of the floor, he started to run in circles. Wilson stood, "House?"

Surprised by the voice, House tripped and crashed through the floor. The music stopped and the floor ceased to hum.

"House!" Wilson ran over to the hole made in the stage. He stopped short; the hole was a perfect circle, just like the ones House was running.

Hands began to clap from somewhere in the audience. Wilson whirled around. Sitting in the center chair was Tritter; in his right hand was a pen, a pad of paper in the other. Was he critiquing them? Wilson thought, still reeling from House falling through the floor.

Not sure as to what he was doing, Wilson jumped into the black hole after his friend. 'There's a new director now…' Wilson thought as he fell.

Wilson gasped as a tingle ran up his legs when he hit the next stage. He turned around in a full circle. The piano had slipped into a slow song, each note tapped lightly to imitate the haunted carousel music he heard so often as a child. Tritter was now not the only one in the audience; faceless nurses had taken random chairs surrounding Tritter. Cuddy and the ducklings had also found seats among the others, though their heads were rolled backwards as if they were asleep.

Then Wilson's eyes landed on House. Choking back a laugh, Wilson watched as the floor underneath his friend turned in slow circles as House sucked on a red lollipop and leaned on his cane. Every time one round was made, House pulled out his orange bottle and popped a Vicodin in his mouth.

Not being able to help himself, Wilson stepped onto the moving platform beside House. Together they rode in circles, neither of them speaking. Wilson lost track of how many times they went around, but everything fell in when Tritter stood and cleared his throat.

The floor beneath House and Wilson jerked, almost sending Wilson flying across the stage and into the crowd that had gathered. Cuddy, Chase, Foreman and Cameron's head were now lifted, their eyes fixed upon the two men on stage.

Wilson glanced over at House. His face was still a stony mask even as the floor began to spin faster underneath their feet. Wilson grabbed his friend's arm and tried to pull him onto still ground.

"House!"

He was too late to move both him and House. Together they plunged through the floor, into the darkness that Wilson saw no end to.

They began to fall through strings that felt as thin and frail as spider webs. As they fell, the cords thickened and began to wrap around both of them. Wilson struggled to get the now rope thick cords off his body; he could see the light shining off the stage below and the ropes were starting to loose slack. If he didn't get untangled, he would find himself hanging from the rafters.

As soon as the last rope was off his body, he turned with a triumphant smile to House. His smile melted; House hadn't moved since they began to fall, the sucker still hung from the side of mouth and the cane was still clutched in his hand. House's blue eyes turned to him, dull from the Vicodin carousel.

Wilson lashed his hands out, trying to pull the quickly tightening ropes off House. The floor was growing nearer.

Laughing, he pulled the last rope off. Now all he had to do was wait until both of them hit the wooden stage. They would be safe, no matter how hard they hit the ground. They might even go through this floor, Wilson thought to himself. They were certainly going fast enough… How would they land? The impact would probably hurt… Wilson smiled in spite of himself. He really didn't know what would happen, which was a change from the average everyday life. People came in, if it was bad they died if it wasn't they lived. Predictable. Really, the only thing in his life he couldn't predict was… House. But House was right here so it would all end well.

He didn't see the last rope until he hit the floor. Was that snap the sound of the boards breaking under him or…

House wasn't there.

Wilson lay faced up on the floor confused by the silence of the room. Shouldn't they both have fallen through?

And they did. House's cane thumped on the floor beside Wilson, just enough to break another perfect circle through. Wilson could almost swear he heard the audience clapping…

Wilson braced himself to hit the hard ground again, squeezing his eyes shut and tightening his muscles. Beneath him the piano had begun to play again.

He found the piano.

He gasped as his back smashed through the grand piano under him, wincing at its last dying notes. Painfully he sat up and looked out into the bright lights that were shining on the stage.

As soon as his eyes adjusted, he saw the audience was full of nurses dressed in white and surgeons in their lab coats. In the center of the crowd, Cuddy and House's team stood out in black funeral clothes. Wilson looked down at his clothes in spite of himself; black suit.

Ignoring his protesting limbs, he stood in the middle of the rubble that was once a piano. He jumped back; House was sitting on the bench with his fingers poised to caress the keys. Slowly, House lowered his hands onto his dress pants and stared with clear blue eyes into Wilson's confused brown.

Wilson stepped back off the broken piano, "House, I-I…"

House cut Wilson off by holding his finger in front of his mouth, his eyes laughing like they did before the infarction. Wilson stared at his friend; what was going on?

With his hand still up, House flicked his fingers. Immediately every nurse stood, revealing short skirts and high heels. From behind their chairs they pulled large feathered fans which they held above their heads and waved like Vegas showgirls. One by one, they filed onto the stage, surrounding House and Wilson as the music began to play.

House stood and two of the nurses took the bench out from under him. Expectantly, House held out his hand to Wilson. Wilson shook his head, "I don't…"

House sighed and held his palm out straighter. Frustrated, he pointed down. Following the finger, Wilson looked down in front of him; House's cane lay on the floor at his feet.

Back still groaning in protest, Wilson leaned forward and grabbed the wooden handle. House grabbed the cane from Wilson and held it in both hands. Smiling, he lifted up his right knee and snapped the cane over it.

The crack sent the showgirls into motion. Faster and faster they danced around and in between House and Wilson. Wilson reeled as the breeze from the fans became gusts of air threatening to knock him down. He reached out for House, but only grabbed the cane that had stood by the man loyally.

Sneezing, he looked around to try and see the end to the sea of white. Finally there was an opening; Cuddy and House's team were sitting on the edge of their seats, elbows resting on the seatbacks in front of them. Tritter was nowhere to be seen.

Wilson followed the break until it was in front of House. With a small smile, House waved and then was gone again, lost in the flood of feathers and smiling dancers.

Aggravated by not knowing what was going on, Wilson stepped back, trying to break from the crowd so that he could see clearly. When he first tried to step back, he was shoved in again by one of the nurses. He whirled back on her angrily. Ignoring the seductive smile she was giving him, he pushed through, knocking many of the women off balance and onto the floor. Wilson looked down at them; they weren't making any attempt to get up. Other women tripped over their fallen dancing partners, also lying where they landed as the music slowed, eventually dying.

Wilson watched as each fell over each other, almost disgusted that none of them bothered to step around or move the ones in front of them. Now they all lay like broken china dolls, blank eyes staring ahead and fake smiles molded on their faces.

Now where was House?

At first, Wilson tried to avoid stepping on the showgirls, but then seeing that was nearly impossible, he began to wade through the fallen mob to the place House was when he last saw him.

There. From out of the pile of women there was House's hand stretched over one of the bodies. Wilson hurried over, tripping over one of the older nurses and landing beside House. Excited, Wilson stood and grabbed the limp hand and pulled. House came up quickly and Wilson had to wrap his arms around him to keep him from falling over again.

For a moment, Wilson had to struggle to keep both him and House's dead weight from falling again. Eventually House's weight corrected itself and Wilson was able to stand up straight.

Wilson turned his head as the sound of footsteps filled the auditorium. Cuddy and the team had joined them on the stage walking two by two, Cuddy and Cameron in front while Foreman and Chase followed in the back. Between them they carried a white sheet. White balloons with the showgirls' fans attached to their strings rose to the black ceiling.

Gaping, Wilson faced House; Cuddy had led the procession to stand behind House. Shrugging, House and pulled away gently. Popping a pill, House fell backward into the sheet, pulling it from their grasps and into a dark, rectangular hole. Wilson reached and grabbed the edge of the sheet to try to pull House back. Instead of saving his friend, Wilson was wrenched in head first.

Wilson shielded his eyes with his forearms as a bright light flashed. The light died and Wilson found himself with his face pressed against hard wood. Slowly, he raised his head and looked.

A casket.

Stumbling back, Wilson saw Cuddy and House's team standing on the other side looking at him sympathetically. Tears filled the corners of Cuddy's eyes as she walked around to Wilson and embraced him. Confused, Wilson wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her shoulder.

What had happened?

Yes... what did happen? Is it a dream? I don't know! It's your opinion. I wasn't sure what the dancing nurses were really called, my friend said showgirls, so that's what I put! Well, I guess review and tell me what you think!