Disclaimer: House not mine, makes me sad. Lettie IS mine, sorta makes up for it but not quite.
A/N: I am not sure how long I should keep posting this, because if I catch up to where the series is, I can't go on, I do not want to speculate and have to backtrack. So this is 3, I have a 4 already, I might could make a 5 with what we have to work with. Less House, more Lettie maybe. Please R&R so I can make the decision. Thanks. : )
Gregory House was in terrible pain. He was on the couch in his apartment, cut off from everything he needed. There was no more Vicodin. There were no more patients. Wilson had traded him for a deal of his own, and now House was being forced to take the deal. He wasn't going to. He would let them kill him before he would admit he had a drug problem. He didn't have a drug problem; he had a pain problem. The drugs cured the pain problem. He ached, literally ached for those few months of respite on the Ketamine.
Cuddy had come by, Cameron had come by, he thinks that Foreman might have been out there; he vaguely remembered talking to Foreman in Cuddy's office. Everyone had come for advice; no one had come to offer him relief. Everyone had come to tell him to take Tritter's deal; no one, well, maybe Cameron, had come to sympathize. Even she said take the deal. House's mind had been going over and over their betrayal all day, while the same question had tried to work itself out in his mind, "Where to get more pills?"
Somewhere outside the music from another apartment floated around. It was a waltz, it sounded like a symphony playing a ballet. "Hmmm… ballet." House's addled brain couldn't think far enough past the pain to figure out why ballet seemed like such a good idea to him at first. He sat on the couch, trying to figure it out. A pair of shapely legs appeared to him, followed by a slight limp. Then it dawned on him. He grabbed the phone and paged Dr. Chase. He figured if anyone was past questioning his motives, it was Chase. He just had to figure out how to get him to play along. Into the pager he put, "Lettie- Ballerina from my clinic files- feeling horny- send me her number."
About a half an hour later, just when he thought that Chase had read the file too closely to fall for his game, his pager went off, with just a number and the word "Chase." "Thank God" House mumbled as he reached for the phone again. "Now I just have to appeal to the ice queen's softer side. I hope she has a softer side"