This is my first House story. I've been reading a lot about the season 6 premiere and decided to give writing a story a try. I am fairly new to House fandom and apologize for any inaccuracy involving the characters. I'll try my best to fact check, but it is fan fiction so some things may be changed purposely. Not sure how long it's going to be, just kind of going with the flow. Please read and review. I live for that stuff. I do not own House or anything to do with the tv show. Do not come after me for money, you will not get much.

Without a question, it had been the longest two weeks of his life. No vicodin. No alcohol. Nothing to help pass the time, and pass it did while under the influence. It was much easier that way. Now all he had was time, laced with pesky pain he just couldn't seem to manage on his own. Hence him ending up in a psychiatric hospital. This combination did not always leave him the best state of mind. In laymen's terms he was miserable, legitimately unhappy. Even he could say it out loud now. This forced him to think about things he had been pushing away for almost a decade now. This did not make his experience any more enjoyable.

His only link the outside world was the 12x24 window he had in his room. Those darn bars made it pretty hard to see anything though. The only thing he knew for sure was that it had been grey since the day that he had arrived 14 days ago. He shivered at the thought. Two weeks. The realization shook him. He was afraid of what he had missed. The hospital was constantly on his mind. There were no longer any hallucinations to distract him, which was the only good thing about his stay thus far.

SMACK. SMACK. SMACK.

The rain had been somewhat of a comfort to him in the beginning. The soothing sound of the rain smacking against the glass of his window. He couldn't really see it, but he could hear it. Proof that something was going on beyond the confines of the hospital walls. The worlds had not stopped moving because he had.

SMACK. SMACK. SMACK.

The rains rhythm grew irritating after about the fifth day. He had convinced himself it was the hospitals own form of Chinese water torture. Torture, that's one hell of a way to treat a temporary mental break. He could feel his leg pulse in pain with the rhythm of the drops.

On the fourteenth day, he rose. Using his elbows to prop his chest off of the stiff mattress, he sat up straight. It had been the first time he had been motivated to move for a reason besides going to the bathroom. He grabbed his right leg and carefully swung it over the side of the bed. He was surprised when the pain was not as bad as he had anticipated. With both of his feet finally touching the floor he grabbed his cane. He held his breath as he stood, still anticipating a horrendous pain. As his body straightened he was again surprised by the lack there of. It was nothing like he had expected. He took a few unsteady steps over to the window, only feeling pain when he lifted his leg.

Finally, the rain was in his view. He watched as it splashed up as it hit the pavement. It fell hard and quick from the sky. He raised his left hand in the air and proudly gave the sky the middle finger. His gesture was interrupted by three loud knocks at the door.

"That's a nice gesture, but I'm pretty sure you're going to come in no matter what I say!" He yelled so that the orderly on the other side could hear him. His eyes were fixed on the heavy metal door as it slid open slowly. The irony of the situation still managed to amuse him a little bit.

"You do realize I am a cripple, right? The five hundred pound door might be a bit unnecessary. The chances of me kicking it down are pretty low." Using his cane, he pointed to his right thigh.

House observed the man who stood at the door. It was not someone he had seen before, not that he had seen much of anyone lately. The only contact he had had was with whoever had been pushing the food cart around on his floor each day. He was a regular social butterfly. For a moment, he thought maybe someone was finally bringing him some pills to take. A man can dream.

"To what do I owe this visit?" He asked in an overly sarcastic tone. It was the first time there had been any kind of expression in his voice in a very long time. Two weeks. 14 days.

"It's moving day Mr. House." The man's voice shook him from his thoughts.

"Excuse me, orderly!" House yelled louder than he needed to down the long white hallway, tapping his cane obnoxiously against the tile.

"There must have been some kind of mix up, because I'm almost certain I booked a single." He nodded his head towards the dark haired man that slept peacefully in a chair by the window.

"Well patient…" The man was clearly not amused by House's antics. "…this is your roommate, and I promise he isn't any crazier than you are."

House lowered his head in defeat. There was no intimidating his way out of his current situation. He waited until the orderly had turned his back before he paid him the same respect he had paid the rain earlier that day. He had grown rather accustomed to being by himself in those two weeks. 14 days. Now he was being forced to share a room with a complete stranger, a completely crazy stranger.

The room reminded him of the one that coma guy stayed in back at PPTH. Pale blue walls that had been faded by the little bit of sun that crept through the window, white beds, white sheets, and white pillows. At least coma guy had a television. He was surprised to find that all of his personal belongings had already been brought to the room and placed carefully into drawers. There wasn't much, three shirts, three pairs of pants, and a pair of pajama pants. He thought about changing into some clean clothes, but quickly dismissed the idea. It wasn't like it mattered either way, he was completely alone in that hospital. Roommate or no roommate, he was truly alone.

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