A/N: I just wanted to try something a little different. Tell me what you think.
Disclaimer: House, M.D. is not mine.
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Ah...there's a dull pounding in the back of my head.
My hand reaches out to touch the throbbing area and pulls back. No blood.
I scan the area around myself in confusion. My mind is in a daze. I'm dizzy.
There's a highway off in the distance. About two hundred yards away.
I push myself off the ground and dust myself off. Dead grass and dirt falls to the ground from my disheveled clothes.
I look around again. Where am I?
I take a step and sway. I stumble. I fall.
I'm back on the ground again. Face down.
I'm too weak to get back up. I'm scared. I'm alone.
The throbbing in my head intensifies. A single tear escapes down my cheek.
Who am I?
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Beep...beep...beep...
House stared at the ceiling with a blank expression upon his rough face. Life, death, friendship, trust, love, loss. So much emotion overrides his thoughts. His heart. Yet he emotes nothing. He feels nothing.
He looks to his left at an empty chair. Cuddy's chair. He imagines her there. He feels her hand upon his. Comforting, assuring, supporting.
She's been gone too long, thinks House.
He shifts his head forward. Those sliding doors.
He imagines Wilson. He recalls that look upon his only friend's face. He put that look there. He hates himself.
He looks at the ceiling again.
Why is Cuddy taking so long?
Beep...beep...beep...
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He holds the note loosely in his hand. He brings it close to him and holds it to his heart. It's like holding her again.
There's a tear stain on his pillow. He's certain there will be more.
It's time for him to go to work. What's the point?
It's time for him to save some lives. He couldn't save her. What's the point?
He leaves without combing his hair. He liked looking good. He liked looking good for the ladies. He liked looking good for himself. He liked looking good for her. What's the point?
He turns off the lights to him home and shuts the door without locking it. What's the point? He's lost all that mattered to him already.
He leaves for work, leaving his house dark, empty, and vulnerable. Just like him.
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