This is the last of this little "trilogy" I decided to work on. I was going to make it poetic, but a poem doesn't really sound like House, does it? None of this sounds like something he would do, in fact, but it's fun to write! Thanks for the reviews!

Dance.

It was getting harder and harder to avoid her. House was almost startled by the number of times he almost walked into a room, only to find she was there. He could almost hear the snickers of the hospital staff as they watched the tension grow. It made him furious. He knew he would start to lose the respect of the staff if he continued to avoid her, to appear nearly afraid of her.

The song was not fading away as time went on, as he expected it would, but grew louder. The words he remembered from her song kept appearing in anything he read or saw. He knew it was just his mind playing tricks; he knew he was being overly sensitive. He was being so... human.


House was sitting in his office, twirling his cane, managing to block out the tune, when he was called to a patients room over the intercom. Like usual, he waited until the third announcement before standing up. Limping down the hallway to the elevator, House rolled his eyes as the song started again.


This couldn't have been the right hallway, House thought as he hobbled past the rooms. Nearly all of the rooms were empty and he couldn't find the room number he had been ordered to report to. As he pasted by one particular room, he saw a flurry of movement that caught his eye. Stopping, he watched as the white lab jacket spun, the hair shimmered, the arms reached out... He had run into her again, only this time was worse. She was dancing. What an idiot, he thought. What was she thinking? She probably wasn't thinking, House thought, watching her twirl with a refined grace he never would have thought she had. How embarrassed she would be when she was caught, he wondered. It was a vacant room, clear of any medical equipment. He knew some doctors came to the vacant rooms for rest during the night shifts, but it was hardly dusk. If she had night duty, she really was not thinking. Why would she dance around like a fool when she was supposed to be asleep?

Shadows fell upon her face, the faint light coming from the parking lot lights streaming in through a window. She had taken off her shoes, leaving them by the bed. House could almost see the shadows on her cheekbones from her eyelashes from where he stood by the door. He slid the glass door open without a sound and, not even knowing why, he stepped into the room. As quietly as he could with his cane, he hobbled toward her, stepping into the shadow her figured cast upon the floor.

He couldn't dance. It was painfully obvious. His cane always got in the way; he couldn't hold onto this partner and his cane at the same time. He stopped in her shadow and waited for her to sense his presence in the room. Leaning on his cane, he put on his best leer when she would make her next delicate turn.

The floor was too slick, however, and the grip on the bottom of the cane was worn just as smooth as the tiled floor. The cane slid out from under him and House felt himself falling. The crack of his elbow and knee as he hit the ground made him wince and, instantly, he felt burning anger in his chest. How could he have been so stupid? Trying to get off the ground as quickly as possible, his leg was too weak to support all his weight and he fell again, the pain excruciating.

He felt hands; on his arm, the other on his side, as he attempted to stand again, leaning on the bed frame this time. He managed to stand, breathing heavily, face livid in anger and pain. Her body was inches away from him, her eyes looking into his, something like fear and uncertainty in them. Snarling, he took the cane she had picked off the ground for him and left the room as fast as he could, knee and elbow throbbing, his ego damaged. He had been such an idiot...

His name came over the intercom again and House suspected that they would send a search party out for him if he didn't show up for his damn patient. How ironic, he thought to himself bitterly, listening carefully to the number of the room. He was even on the wrong floor.


He played the piano again that night, barely glancing at the music. He had a good ear and played everything almost from memory. As his fingers touched the keys, pressing them down to create the desired result, he whispered the words that went with the notes. He allowed himself to imagine her dancing, just one last time, before he burned the memory and scattered the ashes.

Enough was enough. Tomorrow, he would end this once and for all. He would give the staff something else to whisper about. He was tired of playing games. As his fingers hit the last chord, House sighed because he knew he was going to have to burn the memory of the music, also. He was going to have to forget the words to the song.

The End.

There we are! Please review and tell me what you think! Whatever you want to say, I want to hear! Thank you very much for reading!