Chapter One – Who's the drunk one here?

The air in the bar was unbearably warm and stuffy. Black fabric covered the windows and there was a distinct smell of sweat and beer. The speakers which were attached to the ceiling emitting loud rock music, its deep bass notes falling in huge chunks onto the mass of pub goers, who were huddled amongst their respective tables and were nearly all clutching a pint between their hands. Young and attractive waitresses dressed in tight black shirts and skinny jeans wormed their way in between the guests, handing out more drinks to the thirsty crowd from their overfilled and partially over spilling tables. The innkeeper at the bar was having a tough time keeping up with the masses of empty glasses he had to refill. Still, he put all his effort into his work. AC/DC way playing from the large black loud speakers on the ceiling: "I'm on the Highway to Hell… Highway to Hell."

Of all the possible places, he could have chosen, Wilson had to drag his friend House to this one. On any given day House would have been absolutely fine in such an atmosphere, even comfortable – but the fact that his friend, against his usual behaviour and his better judgment, had officially reached a level of intoxication that could only be perceived as incredibly embarrassing was highly annoying to him! He repeatedly had to seize an eager Wilson by the collar and pull him back to his seat, as he tried to grab one of the waitresses' butts. What was he? Wilson's babysitter?!

From the ceiling, the last lines of the song were being growled by Bon Scott: "And I'mgoin' down. All the way…Wowww… I'm on the Highway to Hell..."

The song changed, and the new one was so deeply in accordance with Wilson's strange behaviour that House began to ponder the possibility that they were being watched:

[…]

You better run girl
Cause I´m hungry now
Dress like a sinner
Dance and howl

Cause all I really want is gettin´ lost with you
Your eyes, they shackled me
Now I´m trapped in a hole
And I claimed to be good

But what if I was just acting a role?

´Cause all I really want is gettin´ lost with you

Maybe I was hungry for love
[…]

watch?v=sg8RxUvnUf0

Yet again, the blurry eyed Wilson leaned forward and stretched his hand out towards another woman's apron. House grabbed his arm. "Wilson!", he reprimanded his friend. "Cut it out!"

Wilson was obviously having a hard time deciphering House's words, which was probably due to his hearing ability being greatly impaired by both the alcohol and the extremely high volume of the music. He curiously leaned over to his friend to ask him what he had just said. But in doing so he almost fell into House's lap, making House roughly fending Wilson off with his elbow. "Huh?", Wilson mumbled after he had retained at least some composure, then he continued in a slur of words: "Bbellieve me! I kn-know hhher! Sh-she...", he randomly pointed at another woman in the crowd, which only House realized, "I-I've seeeen her ssomewhere bbbeffore."

House sceptically raised an eyebrow at this and replied pointedly: "Yeah, sure, in your wet dreams, huh?" His answer didn't faze Wilson in the slightest. Shaking his head slightly, House scanned the room. He could see Wilson out of the corner of his eye as he brought his glass up to his lips – or at least tried to do so – and took hasty gulps of beer. Most of the fluid ended up dripping down his chin into his shirt, House noted, becoming increasingly disgusted of his friend. Never before had he seen him thisdrunk.

"Come on, Wilson", House roughly grabbed his friend by the shoulder after he had put down his now empty beer, "We're leaving!"

"Whaaat?", Wilson, who unlike most occasions that evening had actually listened to House's words, started to protest, "Bbbuut Wh-whyyy?"

"You're drunk!", answered House, and because he was getting quite annoyed at this point he decided to shove the other a bit in hopes of getting him on his feet.

"Whho, mee?", Wilson had now contracted the hiccups seemed unaffected by House's efforts to get him off his seat.

"Yeah, you!", House was rapidly losing his patience. "Now let's go!"

He had had enough of all this. All he wanted to do now was get out of this place as soon as humanly possible. What he wouldn't have done to have spent a relaxed evening in front of his grand piano back at his apartment… but no, he had had to agree to babysit his best friend – what a great buddy!

"I-ii...", Wilson stopped speaking as abruptly as he had started, let out a little burp and continued, "I'm not dru-unk. Loo-ook at her over thhhheere!" He gestured over to the doors which lead to the restrooms with a slightly wavering but determined finger. As House's eyes followed where Wilson's left hand was pointing to, his interest in staying at the bar took a complete 180.

November had just come out of the restroom and was now trying hard not to lose her balance in the sea of people; it was a fairly small space in the first place. She had more trouble with this than the average person anyway, though the reason for this was not obvious at first glance.

The true problem lay right in front of the doors, which led from the restrooms into the rest of the bar. A step of barely 2 inches in height - for November, this was already too high. To safely get past this, she first had to hold the door frame tightly with both her hands. However, for the man behind her, she was already taking too long. It was evident how he was rapidly losing his patience, he was tapping his foot repeatedly on the floor and trying to catch a glance of what was happening behind the girl. Without warning, he pushed November to the side, cursing her out as he went past her. She, surprised by the harsh and sudden movement, lost her grip on the wall and therefore her balance. She was unable to take a step back, since she had already reached the step before the man had bumped into her.

It caused an instant chain reaction and doom loop: falling and trying to stand at the same time, not being able to move forward or backwards, feet stuck on the ground, just as incapable of moving as her legs. There was only one thing left to do, as usual: letting herself fall forward onto the balls of her hands. All of this happened after what was less than two seconds of a moment of shock. She could rely on it, just like a cat who always happens to land on its paws. Her body was used to play that very reaction on repeat, automatically. She didn't have to think, her hands intuitively reached forward.

House' body had tensed, his mind wide awake. The dead-sounding music, drunk Wilson by his side, the other loud guests all around him – everything seemed to vanish to a place he was not part of at the moment. He focused on the only thing he could see: a young woman having trouble finding her balance, which was pushed from behind by surprise and landed on her hands just like a cat, to regain control.

He heard the laughter of some people and realized how others were also staring at the toilet door. But he did not feel like laughing. His intuition told him that her way of trying to get across this small step and the way she let herself fall and caught herself had another meaning.

Luckily it was only that one step and November had enough room so that yet another time, nothing happened - apart from the dirt on her hands. The guy went on the run right away, leaving no seconds thought to what happened.

"Asshole", she whispered, while she was still standing in front of the toilet door on all fours. Supported by her feet and hand, she didn't really want to know what all the people around her would be thinking. The laughter she seemed to hear fortunately faded with the sound of loud music.

Her position made getting back up easier for her, or rather raising her upper body.

Everything else would have been bloody exhausting, or it would have taken more time and caught more stares. Yet another advantage of falling on the hands: you won't have to start from the bottom to get up. Because unlike everyone else, it was impossible for her to just simply push herself up using her feet on the ground. All she could use for it, was her hands and arms. 23 years of experience in all kinds of falls led to her mastering this art of falling and landing without even having to think about it.

As she got up, a cane with a flame pattern that crossed her vision caught her eye and interest. Not only was this an unusual and noticeable motif for a cane, but much more would you not see this in a pub very often. So far, she was the only one walking around with restrictions. She kept an eye on the cane until she could tell who the owner was – about 10 meters away from her. He was a tall man, with grey hair, blue eyes and a scrubby three-day-old beard. He wore a black shirt and a light blue t-shirt with a skull printed on it, over which a snake bend from left, across the middle and to the right.

In that moment, the asshole that shoved against her so harshly just seconds ago, came into her focus again and what she saw when he disappeared, really surprised her.

House fixed his eyes on the man that pushed the woman aside so carelessly. The guy made his way through the overcrowded pub and had obvious difficulties getting any further. Best chance for a little retaliation strike, he thought, and within the fraction of a second he made up his plan. House, who had already got up to leave, leaned on the table with his hand down, so that the other hand was free to trip the dude up with his cane.

And so, he did, without any hesitation!

Having absolutely no clue about what would await him, the unsympathetic, bulky guy kept on trying to make his way through to the exit. "Just come along, buddy", House thought and held back a mischievous smile.

As soon as the man walked past House, he felt his right foot sticking onto something on the ground. He began to stumble, he tried to gain control but failed – there was nothing to hold onto! With a loud noise, he crashed hard on the floor and painfully hit his left knee.

Alerted by the unusual event, people started turning around to see what happened. Their cheerful laughter mixed with the sound of loud music and even House was secretly amused by his own shenanigans.

"Hey douche bag, what the hell!?" the guy yelled, still lying on the ground. "Can you not take care with your stupid cane?" With an argonising face, he rubbed his knee.

"Why me?" House asked naively. "You fell down, why can you not watch out?"

"Oh please!" the man snorted in annoyance. He was obviously very embarrassed about his fall and tried to defend himself to at least feel like he was right. "You think I fell over your fucking cane on purpose?"

"No" House replied nonchalantly and cynically added: "You think I have a disability on purpose?"

The man felt he was clearly inferior in this situation and didn't want any trouble. Mumbling one more snarkier remark he got up and quickly left the pub.

November watched the whole scenario that happened near to her great satisfaction. "You just can't fall very well" she thought to herself and subtly shook her hide with a smirk on her face. House looked at the woman with a content chuckle. She looked him directly in the eyes and there was no need for loud words or wild gestures. A long-lasting, intensive and meaningful glance was enough to make both feel that the other one knew exactly what they meant. It was that very feeling, which made November's lips turn into a quick, pleased smile. In a strange way, she felt someone actually understood for a moment. Even House couldn't help but smile for a brief moment.

Still smiling, November made her way back to her table. Even when walking back, she had to have her eyes all over the place so she would not stumble and fall again. "This man with his incredibly drunk guy in tow" she thought, "he already caught my eye earlier on". But when November turned around and looked at the table where they sat, nobody could be seen anymore.

„Haaaavve ya seen tha?" Wilson slurred and pointed towards the toilet, again. „Ssssheees so drunk, not mee!"

„Yeah, yeah "House commented teeth-gnashing, while pushing his friend out of the overcrowded pub. "The only one who's sober here is you."

At the exit, House turned his head around once more to look back. By this time, the woman was back at her table, laughing joyfully with other people. This young woman was anything but drunk! A drunk who lost their orientation because they had had one too many, would not fall like that! Not – not like that – not with practice. Very suddenly, Wilson, whooping with joy, made him rouse from his slumber. As fast as his leg and cane would allow him to do, he ran out of the pub and appeared just right in time to prevent his friend from hitting on a woman on the pavement. It was an older woman, maybe seventy, that took her wire-haired dachshund for a late-night walk.

"Come on" House energetically yelled and grabbed Wilson harshly by the collar. "This one's a bit too tough for you. Let's go!"

"Bbbuut…" Wilson objected and turned around to the woman and the loudly barking dog once more. In the pub, the last chords to " Hungry for Love" started to fade.

"No way!" House said and gave his friend a heavy stroke against his shin with his cane.

Tired and nerve wrecked he conducted the still joyfully yelling and frisky Wilson to his car.

After some very exhausting minutes he had finally managed to place him in the vehicle and fasten his seatbelt.

How on earth would he survive the way home? It was only about twenty minutes away, but safe to say those would be some very long minutes. Of that, he was sure. And then there was this strange encounter with that woman, which would not leave his mind. A woman, young and beautiful, who was apparently having no balance at all. She fell forward with a confidence that caught his entire attention. And then this glance… How she watched his cane… as if she knew exactly what it means to be "restricted" … Who was she?

20 minutes after this encounter November was also on her way back home. Luckily it was not far for her, only some meters away, so that she could leave the wheelchair at home. This pub was simply lacking space for a wheelchair, but therefore it was a lot more atmospheric. However, that encounter in the bar did not let her go – his meaningful glance and the feeling he knew exactly what was going on, just like her, this thought, it accompanied her on the way home.

"He must have had this problem with his leg for a long time now, otherwise he would not carry such a cane. You don't own nothing like that when you are injured for just a short time… you only own such a cane when it is a part of yourself" November thought to herself silently. Who was he?