The whiteboard was set upright, his cane resting against it. His writing was scrawled around the board, no one having the 'guts' to remove it.
The table still sat where it always had, the chairs pushed in. Chase's crossword puzzle and Foreman's briefcase still sitting atop it.
The coffee pot hasn't been used since then. The coffee bag laying against it, the timer turned off. A box of animal crackers, finally restocked, opened and half eaten.
The people are working on his office, clearing it of clutter and emptying the shelves and drawers. Authorization by Cuddy, not needed. She would refuse them the right, saying that it should stay the same. That if he were to be watching, he would have her head on a platter.
They gave his unsigned reports to Foreman, that lucky duck, to sign and his clinic hours to Chase. Cameron still read his e-mail and mail with a quick reply of 'Dr. House is unable to help. He is no longer able to practice.' Cold and distant, that's what they all seem to be.
Sitting on the couch in her home, Cuddy is the exact opposite. She's hoping that the future will be bright.
A few years later, the office cleared out, the meeting room rearranged, Cameron, Chase and Foreman are still afraid to enter that room. The bloodstained carpet never removed, and his cane framed, hanging against the wall, a constant reminder of what they lost.
Cuddy visits the shell of the man she once knew, talking to him and wishing it hadn't happened. He gave her, her dream and she couldn't protect him.
Today, as she was walking down the Princeton Plainsboro halls on her way to visit him, a question of 'why' popped up.
"Mommy, why is daddy in a coma? Did he get sick? Did I do something?" Cuddy gasped.
"No honey, you didn't do anything. He just lost."
"Lost what?" Blue eyes piercing, the young girl looked up to her mother.
"Honey, before you were born, Daddy was a doctor. He helped people get better when they were sick and no one else knew what was wrong." She started.
"Like you?"
"Yeah, Abigail, like me." Cuddy sighed again. "But one day, a bad guy, like in the stories Uncle Jimmy reads you, hurt him."
"Where?" Abigail looked up at Cuddy.
"Here." she pointed to a spot on Abigail's stomach. "And here." Cuddy pointed to her neck. "Now come on, we've got to go."
Hand in hand, Cuddy and Abigail walked down the corridor toward his room. After a minute of silence, Abigail spoke once more, "When I get older, I'm going to help him, Mommy. Because I love him."
"I do too, baby." Cuddy replied, "I do too."
"And nobody will get crumbs on Daddy. If they do, Mommy, they'll be in trouble, right?" Abigail asked.
"Yes, Abby."
"That's how I got my name isn't it?" With no reply from Cuddy, Abigail added, "Because you said my name means 'Father is joy' right?"
Smiling, Cuddy looked to the girl, "Oh, your father was joy, Abby."
Nodding triumphantly, Abby finished, "Then I'm definately going to fix him." She smiled, "Because my father is joy and I love him."