Disclaimed.

Dude I'm just popping em out tonight! I've been writing all day basically. Neat-o.

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As most of the audience wore matching expressions of introspect it is probably a good thing that House didn't speak. No one would have heard them. The man at the bar had been wiping the same glass since House had began playing, completely hypnotised by the magic of House's fingers orchestrated. He continued with the music.

"I can't stand to fly
I'm not that naive
I'm just out to find
The better part of me.

I'm more than a bird
I'm more than a plane
I'm more than some a pretty face beside a train.
And it's not easy to be me.

Wish that I could cry
Fall upon my knees
Find a way to lie
'Bout a home I'll never see "

There are people who just hear music. They sing along without ever really knowing the words. Without truly knowing the feeling and meaning behind the lyrics. That night, not a person in that room just heard the music. Some of them, for the first time in their lives, truly listened.

"It may sound absurd
But don't be naive
Even heroes have the right to bleed
I may be disturbed
But won't you concede
Even heroes have the right to dream.
It's not easy to be me."

Cuddy sat, both hands in her lap, both eyes trained on the man she hadn't seen for years. For the first time since the infarction, House was gone. This man on stage, this pied piper of pianos, this was Greg. Her Greg.

"Up, up an' away, away from me
Well it's alright.
You can all sleep sound tonight.
I'm not crazy, or anything.

I can't stand to fly
I'm not that naive.
Men weren't meant to ride
With clouds between their knees."

Not for the first, or last time, Wilson was speechless. Sure, he had heard House play before but...not like this. Never like this. Ingrid Bergman once said "A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous." Wilson decided House's music was a trick designed by some God or Goddess on a mountain in the sky to stop the heart when the mind became too crowded. He hadn't ever realized how much he over thought things until he was given the gift of just being able to sit. And listen.

"I'm only a man in a silly red sheet
Diggin' for kryptonite on this one way street.
I'm only a man in a funny red sheet.
Lookin' for special things inside of me.
Inside of me
Inside of me
Inside of me
Inside of me."

Foreman was speechless. If this was House...if this was who he truly was...maybe becoming him wouldn't be so awful.

"I'm only a man on a funny red sheet.
I"m only a man lookin' for a dream
I'm only a man on a funny red sheet
It's not easy to be me "

The crowd was huge. At least 150 to 200 in the room. And as the piano stopped for him to sing the last line without music, not a sound was heard other the the blood rushing through their ears and the baited breath that clung to their lips.

"It's not easy to be me. "

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The song was "Superman" by Five For Fighting.