I don't own House or any of its characters…blah blah blah …you all know the routine.
A/N: My first House fic, well ficlet--this just came to me and while I have been in something of a general writing slump this is the first thing I've written in awhile that I didn't immediately think that it sucked. R&R
There used to be nights, when at three in the morning I couldn't sleep because my mind wouldn't stop racing, that I would go out and run. It didn't matter where or for how long--it was just me, the road and the melancholy silence of the dark night. Occasionally the moon would gleam with it's pale light, casting shadowy figures all across the road and within the darkness of the side-alleys and the black of the neighborhood park, it would be only too easy for one to imagine what ghouls and goblins lurked therein. They never bothered me so much, as a matter of fact, on those chilled onyx nights when I would run, I would be comforted by the ethereal figures --those shadows were not an unknown….no puzzle….just the darkness of the night accompanied by the steady beat of my pounding feet against the pavement.
Now those same shadows mirror my soul. Ghostly and insubstantial it is a pale comparison of what it once was. I lost so much of myself it seems and yet I have amplified characteristics that were once considered my lacking traits; yes, I think as I limp down these black sidewalks, no longer running but still finding the silence and the calm from the late night roaming like I used to, I took what was hated and made it coveted; I took the pain and made it anger and I used that anger to fuel my passion--my passion to solve the puzzle--to find the answer when no one else can.
In a way, I replaced the part of me I lost, my leg, with something greater; driving purpose. Without the use of my leg, I no longer had pesky sports or rancorous extracurricular activities to distract me from what made me great all along; my brain.
I used to run these dark nights to escape myself and my racing brain--now I walk these seemingly abandoned paths to find the silence I need to find the answer, to use the very thing I used to wish to escape--to save another's life.
The silence was my escape but now it is my solace and companion.
Maybe there are the same now.
Maybe they always were.
