This is my first House fan fic. I wanted it to be a little cheesy and dramatic because I was in a mood to write something cheesy and dramatic. I usually don't really think of House as being a person, but I always liked that he played the piano after some really stressful moments, so I wanted to incorporate music. It doesn't really have a strict idea of what is going on, so it is up to the reader to fill in any little gaps I left (on purpose!) so that they would get more involved with the story. Here I go... (Oh, yeah, I don't own the characters, things, or settings involved with the TV show "House M.D.")
Music.
They spoke his name in fear and reverence. House was roaming the halls, the awkward thump of his cane echoing off the sterile walls of the hospital. The interns were terrified, darting into the nearest elevator or pretending not to take notice as the medical legend walked past, so scared they nearly dropped their clip boards. The members of the hospital staff who knew House, or thought they knew him, anyway, ignored him. Pretending to not be scared gave them more respect in the eyes of the interns, but they all stayed out of his way.
House paced the halls, one after another, taking no heed of what or who was in his way. The whispers followed him, but never reached his ears. They all knew what had put him in such a bad mood. "How could a man such as himself love?" they asked. "What sort of person could do this to such a demon?"
He finally made it to his office, sneering at the fools outside, with their patients and clip boards and rumors. People didn't care. People wanted entertainment. And, even if they were scared of him, they would take pleaseure in the fact that House was in pain. Not just physical pain, but emotional pain.
It was raining outside, a slow, steady rain. His leg cramped and hurt even more, but he did not allow himself to dig his painkillers out of his pocket. If she could fell his pain, she would be in agony, and at this thought, he smiled. It was a smile that only made him look more cunning and calculating.
How could he have been so weak? She knew she had upset him. Why else would she have left in such a hurry, running out of the room? God, he could still hear his own words in his head, basically telling the whole world over and over again that he loved her. He might as well have said that awful word himself instead of implying it. Now, all those who knew probably thought he was really in love her her and the object of his desire was terrified of him. Why shouldn't she be, House thought viciously. Even if the rumor was true, why shouldn't she be scared? I'm her boss. If she doesn't do what I want, I can do my best to make her life hell. But, what do I want of her? Nothing.
He laboriously walked up the sidewalk to his house, his leg hurting him more than it had in his office. His shadow was cast upon the door as he unlocked it and entered. House rolled his eyes as he stepped on something that had been slid under the door.
Dropping his cane in the process, House stooped down and picked the large, unmarked envelope up. Inside, there were several sheets of music, all hand written. Raising an eyebrow, he took off his jacket, hanging it on the rack by the door, slipping off his shoes, eyes never leaving the music.
Sitting down at the piano, House stood the music up on the rack and gently placed his fingers on the keys. His hands had a tenderness that had never been felt by another person or thing except when they were coaxing music from the piano. The notes were simple, the chords plain, but the song itself was beautiful. It was set in a minor key, the tune sad and hopeful at the same time. As he performed, House could have rolled his eyes. It was apparent who wrote this. He never knew she could compose. Too scared to write him a letter, she wrote him a song instead.
He played it twice before stopping. The rain, pit-pattering on the window, provided a soothing sound after the last strain faded away. House realized his hatred for her had faded, his soul felt scorched, burnt, after the fire he had ignited died with the music. He still didn't love her. He never would. But, for as much as he could sneer at himself, he knew there would be something there.
Standing, he gathered the music in one hand, his cane in the other and, turning off the lights, left the room, humming her gift to him.
Okay, I am really embarrassed to have written this, but I liked the imagery at the end, and so I decided to post it. The person in the story isn't me or anyone I know. I can't compose! Hah... So, I just wanted to see what other people thought and if I should ever lift the pen again to make another House fic. Thanks for putting up with my story! Review if you want to... Thanks again!
