Kinda short this time, but hope it's enjoyable anyways.

-Chapter 4: Piano Man-

Monday, September 3, 1984

House walked into the music room ahead of her. Hesitantly, she followed, her breath caught in her throat. Everything was exactly as it had been that fateful afternoon. She watched him look around. A confused look crossed her face as he walked over to the closest wall, running his hand over it. She frowned when he smiled.

"What?" she asked, the question coming out before she could stop it.

"This room has to have some wicked acoustics," he breathed, backing away from the wall and glancing over the instruments. Lisa followed him over to the piano in the center of the room. Watched him trace the edges, seeing the loving look he graced the instrument with. She was astounded at the gentle way he touched the frame, guided his hand across the top. She stopped right next to the piano as he slid onto the bench, caressing the ivory and ebony keys, touching each one delicately, as if the keys would break if he applied too much pressure.

"Do you play?" she asked softly. Greg grinned wickedly as he looked up at her.

"I thought I got to start asking the questions?" He shifted, indicating that she could sit on the bench next to him if she chose to. He set the folder on the sheet music ledge, opening it, as she accepted his invitation. Out the corner of his eye, he saw the surprised look on her face as she took in the bars and notes. "And yes." He turned his head slightly to look at her. "I did compose this."

Her eyes widened. "You…you wrote this?" she asked, gesturing to the sheet music. "Incredible," she whispered. She honestly couldn't believe it. The first impression she'd gotten of him seemed to be falling apart in the face of this new information. A jock who composed music was practically unheard of. As he started to play, she reassessed her thoughts again.

A jock who composed music and played that beautifully was definitely unheard of. It took her a moment to realize that he wasn't looking at the sheet music.

"You're not.."

"I've played this part before," he answered, holding a note while he focused on the folder. "This part, though…I just finished writing this part." Now it made sense. This must be why he'd been tapping on his desk.

"It's…"

"Not finished," House finished for her, glancing quickly at her before turning his attention to what looked like one of the more complex note series. Lisa shook her head.

"It's beautiful," she gasped, watching his fingers fly over the keys. "I had you figured wrong." Her eyes focused on his profile as he continued to play. He didn't look up or answer until he'd finished playing the new part of his composition.

"What does that mean?" he asked, not removing his hands from the keyboard. His brow furrowed as he turned his head again to look at her. "How did you have me figured?" There was no annoyance in his voice or his eyes, only genuine interest. Which interested him. He'd always sought to ignore what people thought of him.

"I…" she stuttered, unsure of why she suddenly couldn't speak clearly around him. "I thought you were just a typical jock, and the way you were flirting with those cheerleaders earlier didn't help to dispel that image." She blinked at the shocked look he gave her. "What?"

"Typical jock?" he asked, blue eyes sparkling with amusement. "How did you figure I was a 'jock' in the first place?"

"The first time I saw you, when you got out of the car, the first thing I thought of was 'athlete'," she shrugged noncommittally.

"I won't deny that I'm an athlete, but 'jock' is a bit of a stretch," he laughed. And it was a wonderful sound. "I played lacrosse back at Johns Hopkins," he explained, tapping experimentally on the keys. His face got serious for a moment as he took up the pencil and jotted down the notes he'd just played.

"You are a strange one, Doctor House," Lisa said, shaking her head slowly. He didn't deny it.