AN: Well, it's been a while...and for such a short chapter (about ½ as long as my last one) this took forever to write... Aiedail01 pointed out that I'd got stuck in a he-said-she-said kinda thing...(thanks, by the way...it's great to get some advice on improvements and the like) so this chapter has a grand total of...one line...of dialogue...and I'm working on putting more description and whatnot into the other chapters...which I'll be reposting at some point...enjoy the chapter!!
Chapter 14
His age-roughened fingers rest lightly on the keys
Blue eyes scan the scribbled notes as he begins
The rich, powerful melody calls to an empty apartment
Only the pianists best friend, sitting outside with his ear glued to the door, hears
He longs to come in, hear it firsthand
But instead stays, listening to the muffled plinks on the ivories.
-
Not too far away, an old keyboard plays the reply
Its keys guided by thin white fingers
The hospital so dead, so silent, that the quiet playing is deafening
The answering song echoes through deserted corridors
While its partner resounds in a vacant room.
Wilson doesn't quite know why he's still here. He feels, somehow, as though he is invading his friend's privacy just by being here.
House used to love playing, love the attention it brought him, but now, to many people it seems he's given up, lost his talent. Listening to the closing notes, Wilson knows the talent is still there. It's the spirit that's gone. The enthusiasm. All the good things he noticed in House when they first met, the same things he sees in Casey today.
No more music sounds through House's door, and Wilson turns to leave again, wondering what House would say if he knew he was outside, and what he's going to tell Casey if she asks why he likes her.
Casey finishes her song, and starts another, just improvising, letting her fingers write the music as she goes. She should be sleeping, probably. The hospital is never going to let her out if she's constantly tired.
As she plays, Casey thinks how strange it is that this floor is completely silent, with only the occasional night-shift nurse making her rounds. Downstairs, in the ER, she knows that it's probably busy, frantic. Even at this hour, there are car accidents, people who've suddenly got sick, women in labour...
She looks up, suddenly, and sees a small crowd of nurses gathered by the door, watching.
"Sorry," She mumbles, just as one of the nurses says the same thing.
They leave fairly quickly once she's noticed them, but Casey doesn't continue playing. The awkward moment has spoilt her mood.
House stops playing, but doesn't get up; instead sitting with his left hand resting lightly on the keys, while his right reaches automatically for the whiskey glass that is usually on top of the baby grand. He growls in annoyance when his hand finds the ring-marked spot empty.
He limp-hops to the kitchen, one hand gripping his damaged leg (he left his cane on the sofa, and he's gone too far to go back and get it now) and leans heavily on the counter, fingers closing over the cool, smooth bottle. As House pours a glass and knocks it back – too quickly – he hears his own voice in his head, mingling with Wilson's, Cuddy's, Tritter's...''You've changed' 'Even your actions lie' 'You're addicted' 'Everything's the leg? Nothing's the pills?' 'They let me do my job, and they take away my pain'. Over the intermingledvoices, one echoes clearly in his mind, as clearly as it did almost a year ago 'Why do you want so bad not to be human, House?'
He shakes his head, as though to shake the thoughts out, and pours himself another glass, making his way back to the couch and sipping it slowly, this time.
AN: The next chapter will be longer...not sure how much longer (or when it'll be up, for that matter)...
By the way, if anyone has any ideas for where this story could go, I'd be glad to hear them...I've got an idea of how it'll end (and don't ask, I'm not gonna tell you) but anywhere in between is a blank canvas for now...
Review, please?
Smiles
--CBT