Lost
Disclaimer: I can only dream that they were mine, all mine...sigh...
Special thanks to Merlyn for her beautiful beta-ing!
Loving someone was like giving them their own drawer in the bedroom of your soul. Sure it could be one single, small compartment filled with a brush, or change of clothes initially, but soon it's overflowing its allotted space. A toothbrush, or scads of flowery smelling shampoos and soaps that infiltrate the bathroom with their girly scents. Not to mention those weird poofy things he had no idea what to do with. All invading his private inner sanctum. If left unchecked, they would bump, shove, and maneuver his possessions out of their positions. Love also meant compromise; no more all night marathons of General Days of the Beautiful, no more tantrums when he didn't beat the high score on his Game boy, no more playing the piano at 3am because he could and he felt like it. He was certainly quite content with the way things were. He had a very nice routine going. Hell be damned if she was going to alter things! No need to change now. No need to let someone in who could lure you into a comfortable lull. Someone who would open you up like a can of beer, knock you over, and let you drain through the cracks of your hard wood floor. Forget about cleaning up the mess, either. No one would. It'd just lie there till some poor unsuspecting sod came along wearing only socks.
Love would be a brief respite in the blurring days of mind-numbing pain, Vicodan, patients, more Vicodan, and booze to wash it all down. To have the sweet sensation of hot human flesh held tightly against his willingly, without the confines of latex exam gloves, office politics or gossip was almost more than he deserved. Besides, everyone lies. No one could truly desire the broken down, bitter, crippled and shattered shell of a man that he had become. Could they?
Surely it was all about the conquest. It opened up the betting pool, for sure, odds placed to see how long it would take her to get into his pants. Then how the talk around the water cooler would buzz! The tables had turned. He'd initially hired her for looks, but she penetrated him first! They would say how Cameron had broken through House's tough exterior and now would get the recognition she so desperately desired. She'd be recognized for fucking her untouchable boss. He ran a hand raggedly through his hair, inhaling deeply. Boy, did she ever get to him. He couldn't let that happen.
House halted his methodical tapping of the piano keys in front of him, conflict darkening his azure blue eyes. He turned as a new wave of pain coursed through his injured leg. Pain was his sweet mistress now, physical or emotional, it all was the same. He reached over to one of the leather recliners and pulled his draped coat onto his lap, searching for his pills, the only other constant of his existence.
Where would he be left when the truth came out? Cold, betrayed, and utterly alone. Again.
House stared at the twin tablets he held, rolled them between his fingers for a moment, then decided to add another set. With a sigh, he slipped the four of them passed his lips and swallowed dryly.
No one wants a heartless, abrasive bastard. Why would they?
'She's gone now, you idiot. You couldn't even grab her hand to make her stay.' House berated himself.
'Now you're alone.'
Cold.
Lost.
So fucking lost.