84 years old, and all he could remember were the past two days. It was such a weird position to be in. It was so disconcerting to know that a four-year-old had more memories than he did. He had all these people who were obviously concerned for his welfare, and he didn't know them. And he had more pain than he knew how to handle. The kind of pain that skillfully kept him from sleeping. House lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He felt like a cookie, baking into the bedsheet. The window was open, the fan was on, and it didn't matter. Even with the interior lights off, he could still see that his arms glistened with sweat.
He had decided to utilize the guest bedroom. Cuddy had obviously been offended, but she had accepted his decision with grace. And so far, she hadn't even climbed into bed with him...which only proved she didn't have a key. This was the second night he listened for the sound of the door knob.
Raising his arms past the edge of the blanket, he wiped his moist face and sat up, reaching automatically for his cane. His efforts to sleep were going to be futile, just like the night before.
After using the facilities, he was in the process of washing his hands when he looked up at his reflection. And he felt as though he'd made a mistake. It was depressing to see the sad, exhausted old man looking back at him. He should have had stories to tell. Instead, his adventure book was being read to him; by seven people, not one of whom had a single gray hair on their head. And this House had a lot of snow on the roof.
He toweled off and limped back into the guest room, heading for the mini-fridge. The sweet blonde lady had brought him some muffins. And all six of Cuddy's employees had given him their numbers; maybe while he supposedly knew them or maybe while he was trying to remember the name of his daughter's mother, he didn't know which. Every little thing was a damn mystery. But according to the only seven people he barely knew, he used to be a doctor, so he selected a medical journal and sat at the desk, reading under the light of the lamp. Not surprisingly, his comprehension of the contents of the book were tenuous at best.
He'd given up a prestigious life? His intelligence, his ability to understand all this?
What had he been thinking?
Unable to continue reading after he had polished off his snack, he discarded the wrapper in the convenient wastebasket and swiveled in the chair, looking out at the sleepy civilization of New Jersey. Cuddy's story checked out; he had confirmed his medical records, her employees knew that information better than he did, everything in his dresser fit him perfectly... Apparently it was his fault he was so confused. Apparently this was his life. And whether it had always been, didn't even matter; because all he had was now.
Suddenly there was movement in the reflection behind him. He spun around and realized there was nothing there.
He was just seeing things. Satisfied with the explanation, he turned back to the window. And saw something else, a dark spot, this time to his right. He moved to his left and the inky haze followed him; like a spider in a web he had stumbled into. He tried capturing the web, but there wasn't one.
Rubbing at his eyes, he looked at the cord telephone. Unlike his fancy smartphone, he knew how to use it; so he picked up the phone and called the bringer of muffins, the only person who had told him, "Call me whenever you need."
She answered on the second ring, but he could tell he'd woken her up. "House? Is everything okay?"
"I'm not sure. I think... I think I'm seeing things."
Cameron seemed to sigh a little. "You have brain lesions. You had electroshock therapy to forget the people you were seeing, but the cause of your visions is still there. Your brain surgery will correct the problem and you should lead a normal life."
House's eyes flicked nervously. "I'm having brain surgery?"
Cameron hesitated, and then spoke uncertainly. "She didn't tell you?"
Again feeling like he'd made a horrible mistake, House moved slowly to place the phone in the cradle.