DISCLAIMER: I don't own House. I don't own any of the characters except those which I create. Also, I know nothing about medical stuff, and I don't claim to, so half of the medical conditions are made up. Also, I do not claim to know any Czech, or anything like that. I do not want to offend anybody with this story. Please don't take any of my writing as offensive.

Hero of the Story

"Hey open wide, here comes original sin.
It's alright, no-one's got it all...
I'm the hero of the story, I don't need to be saved
It's alright, no-one's got it all..."
--regina spektor, "Hero of the Story"

Dr. Gregory House. The door screamed this in large white letters. He was a doctor. What else would he be doing with a hospital in an office if he weren't a doctor? For some reason today, he hated that door. He swilved around in his chair and stared up at the ceiling. It was the same old colour it always was. Everything was exactly the same as it always was. The same colour, the same shade, the same personality, the same story. He wouldn't admit it, but he lusted for something new and interesting. Or maybe he would admit it. He was unpredictable in that way.

A light rap on the door made him glance up. He waved the person on the other side of the door inside, and leaned his head back again to stare out the window and ignore her. "You're supposed to be in the clinic." He just ignored her and tossed a rubber band ball up in the air. It fell past his hands and bounced off the floor.

"A hit and a miss."

"You're supposed to be in the clinic," Cuddy repeated angrily. This time, House looked up at her.

"I'm watching the news," he said plainly, and went back to throwing his ball and catching it again.

"The television isn't even on," Cuddy said indignantly. "Now, why don't you just go down to the clinic before I have to fire your ass." House raised his eyebrow at her and turned on the television. It was a news report about an ongoing trial in New York City. "Or before I have to attempt to assassinate you like I'm Triszika or something." With that she walked out of the office, leaving Dr. Gregory House to stare at the television. The news report was covering the trial, they all were. The Czech government wasn't even trying to keep the trial on the downlow. House looked at the pale features of Nasili Triszika, the young woman on trial. Her dark eyes glowed against the white of her skin and the blackness of her long, curly hair. She looked like an oppressed prison of war, like she was a butterfly trapped in a cage. House bit his lip and clicked the television off.

Standing up, leaning on his same-old cane, he walked down the hall with his same-old limp to the same-old clinic to do his same-old clinic duty. He passed by some rooms that were exactly the same as they always were, he saw all the same exact people that he saw every day. He wished for something new, for someone to practically die from some unknown cause so that he had a real excuse to get out of clinic duty. On his way down the hall, he saw Dr. Cameron, his young, beautiful right hand speaking with his not so young, not so beautiful left hand, Dr. Foreman.

"Well if it isn't a natural diasaster waiting to happen," Foreman said as soon as he saw House. "Off to your clinic duty, I presume. Cuddy found you alright?" House just gave him a look and a sneer as he limped by. House paused and looked back at the two doctors. They were holding a newspaper between them, and it appeared that that had been what they were talking about. "Can I see that paper?" House asked, suddenly intrigued. Cameron shrugged and handed him the paper.

"It's all about Triszika, mostly. It's kind of an interesting trial," Cameron said, as she looked at House going over the front page story. There was that picture of Triszika again, her hair disheveled and yet in perfect condition, her eyes wild, yet calm, her snowy skin pulled taught across those perfect Eastern European cheekbones. It seemed like no matter where a picture was taken of her, she was filled with conflict from the inside out. House sucked on his lip and handed the paper back to Cameron. "She didn't do it," he said plainly before turning around and continuing his limp towards the elevator. Cameron and Foreman followed him.

"What makes you so sure?" Foreman asked, interested, as the elevator doors closed in front of their faces. House just gave him a look, as though saying 'I'm having a crappy day, and I'm psychic, I just know.' This "look" made Foreman not push his question. "I just think the girl is crazy. Some of the things she says are... crazy."

"English isn't even her first language! She can barely speak it. Of course she sounds crazy," Cameron said, jumping in.

"That's not just why I think it. She just isn't right in the head."

"Who of us is?" House asked, looking at Foreman before taking a step out of the elevator onto the landing. Foreman followed him, eyes rolling. Cameron detached and went off in another direction. Foreman wandered up to House, and gave him an odd look.

"You really think she's innocent?"

"There's no way a girl like that could try to assassinate anybody. Look at her medical history."

"How the hell do you know her medical history?" Foreman asked, not really wanted to know. House just tapped his nose and went into the first examination room.

The jury, the reporters, everybody was looking down at her like she was some murderous basketcase. The world felt like it was tipping over, she felt sweat pouring down every inch of her skin. People didn't know how nervous she was... all they cared about was a good story. She heard her name being called to the stands. She felt dizzy, disconnected. She felt like she couldn't stand. Her lawyer helped her up, pulling her arm a little. She shook her head and felt a large glob of sweat pour down from her nose. Her lawyer's eyes widened greatly, and but her eyes were blacking out. She couldn't see... everything was turning red.

People rushed to her fallen body. There was blood coming out of her nose, mouth, ears, and eyes. She was convulsing on the ground, clearly unconscious. "Somebody call an ambulance!"