So this is my first attempt at fanfiction… any reviews are welcome, but please be nice! Sorry this is so short, I'm just kinda trying to feel it out. Will probably post chapter two soon! Hope you like.
Oh and House M.D. is of course not mine, but property of David Shore and co.
Deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out.
Dr. Gregory House concentrates on his breathing; a welcome distraction from his thoughts of her… he shakes his head. As if it's that easy to rid his mind of Lisa Cuddy. His mind, always running full speed, solving the latest difficult puzzle set before it, contemplating the intricacies of his life and those around him, always has some part centered completely on her. She's always there, her soft smile, or even that little furrow between her brows she got when she was pissed off.
He stands, a triumphant smile quirking his lips. Still no pain. The Ketamine treatment had really worked. 8 weeks had passed since he had requested to be put in the drug induced coma, and besides the occasional twinge in his stomach and neck wounds, there had been nothing. His leg, a constant source of misery for years, felt… fine. His grin grew a little wider. Every day his anxiety that the treatment would wear off grew weaker. He hadn't even looked at a Vicodin bottle in weeks. He felt whole, strong, a feeling he hadn't had since that giant chunk of muscle had been hacked from his thigh.
He heads back to his bedroom, exulting in the long easy strides he uses to reach the bedside table. He picks up his Ipod and heads back out into the living room. Looking into the closet, he reaches in and grabs a pair of Nike running shoes. His eyes stop briefly on the cane, abandoned in the corner, covered in a faint layer of dust. Maybe I should get it mounted on the wall or something. Chuckling at the thought, he ties the shoes on quickly, plugs the ear buds into his ears and heads out the door. He locks it behind him and reaches into his pocket to hit play. Heavy drum beats and strains of guitar and bass fill his ears as he jogs out into the morning air. Today is his last day off, seeing as 8 weeks was the longest recovery period allowed for a gunshot wound to the stomach and neck. He wondered if Cuddy had enjoyed the break from his constant annoyances and shenanigans. He shook his head again. No more thinking for now. Deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out.