I was really tired of thinking about this story today, and planning out when and where House is going to have a big dramatic scene before the story ends, and everything revolves around his hearing coming up in front of the board of directors before the doctors have to testify in the court case of Mr. Deleyney... I was getting sick of it (is an author allowed to get a little sick of their stories?) and just wanted to get it over and done with. You're not going to know what she said to him, but at least House will know, which will set everyone up for the next few chapters and give me something fresh to write about. Does anyone have any suggestions for me on how long this story should be? I'm not sure if I'm up to something as long as "The Heart Of A Fool" but I don't want to only have to write one or two more chapters, either... hum? Any reader suggestions are much appreciated.

The Letter And The Rose

House was anxious. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but there was no mistaking that tone in his voice as he muttered to himself, the way his fingers tapped on the arm of the chair he leaned against, the sharp, quick movements he made. He was restless, wanting to get out of the house and do something, but what was there to do at three in the morning?

There was snow falling softly, the moonlight so bright it hurt to look at the snowflakes that made their way tumbling down from the sky. The bare trees held as much snow as they could, little clumps of it falling occasionally to the ground to mar the otherwise smooth surface the snow had made. There were shadows on the ground, but only the shadows of trees and the embittered man himself until he turned off the lights and continued to stare out the window, his own silhouette disappearing.

A sign. There must have been a sign, somewhere, that he missed. Cameron must have told him before now that it was time to read her letter. There must have been a mistake on his part, and House was willing to admit that if it would only let him read Cameron's thoughts, the thoughts she had written down before she died the next day. House set his resolve to find a sign, anything that would tell him Cameron was there.

His house was quiet, the room cold in the light of the snowy night. The furniture cast dull shadows on the floor, the edges blurred, the moonlight paying no attention to detail. That job was left to House, who peered out the window, nearly holding his breath. Tonight had to be the night. It would kill him to wait another day. He had waited for weeks already. Besides, he needed his sleep; his whole body ached with exhaustion. His hearing had not gone well.

The board members had told him that, since he was late, that was not going to help them make their decision on what to do with the doctor. House had been so patient, he had tried to be the best person he could be. He sat there like a fool, like an absolute idiot, as the pompous jerks laid out a sentence for him. Since the hospital director herself had tried to retract the order to fire Dr. House, the board members were going to keep Dr. House because of his medical genius, but since his actions had been related in the death of a patient, he was going to be suspended and his pay decreased. Not to mention the fact House had to answer to anybody. He had limited freedom in the hospital and couldn't even have his own security card to use the lab rooms or retrieve files. Everything had to be done for him. They were keeping him for his mind and his mind alone.

House snarled. It was his mind that had also come up with the poor idea of giving the patient the medicine that had killed him, apparently.

The vase of roses that House had set on the piano were beautiful in the moonlight, House had to admit to himself, laying next to the letter. He had bought them later on in the day, before he came home for the night, planning on bringing them to Cameron's grave, one at a time. As it was, he had only bought three or four, but House didn't know if he wanted to bring her the roses one at a time and stretch his visits, or give her the bunch at once and get it over with. He hated being a hopeless romantic, but he couldn't really help himself at the moment. The lack of energy, sleep, and food, along with the remaining effects of detox, had battered him and beaten him, leaving House with no outer defenses. He knew this was temporary, that he could rebuild the ice walls around himself, to keep out anyone who might think there was an actual person inside the shell of Dr. House, but he wasn't going to help himself until he had that sign.

Surely, if Cameron was able to see him, her heart would break from pity.

She would give him a sign.

House rubbed his eyes. It was almost morning. He could see the faint rays of golden lights peak over the horizon, the brilliant purple and turquoise of the sky swirling together to disappear until the next morning. The moon was fading away, the sun chasing it to spread it's own rays over the earth and try to undo what the snow had done to the world, to melt some of the ice away from the earth. He still had no sign. Sighing, House turned away from the window, reaching for his cane.

His cane fell away from his clumsy fingers and House, who was already putting his weight on the wood before it fell, started to collapse. Trying to catch himself, House knocked over everything that was on top of the piano. He landed with a dull thump on the piano bench before rolling off of it and under the piano. House wheezed slightly and winced as he felt his bad thigh twitch with pain. He was laying in a puddle of water from the vase, which had broken into large shards of glass. House tried to get up, but put his hand directly over a piece of sharp glass, cutting his fingers.

Swearing, House lay still, trying to wash his fingers in the puddle of water, sighing. He noticed Cameron's letter laying dangerously close to the water and reached out to grab it, to save it from getting wet. House tried to prop himself up, half laying, half sitting under the large instrument, wiping the droplets of water that had not yet penetrated the envelope to get to the precious paper it contained. He was angry with himself for letting himself bleed on the envelope, the blood from his slashed fingers mingling with the water to spread across the envelope, making diluted swirls of blood, patterns forming. House paid no attention to this, trying to gather the roses from the floor and putting them in his lap to keep them from getting crunched. He noticed one pattern, however, the little symbol catching his eye.

There was a faint rose, stem and leaves attached, in the swirl of blood and water. House looked to the rose he held in his hand and could have cried, he was so relieved.

Putting the rose down and wiping away the excess water around the envelope, making sure he did not mar the mark on the paper, House opened his letter from Cameron.

There we are! Hehe... I actually had a lot of fun writing this chapter. Sorry if it was melodramatic or something. I just wanted to kind of float off for a little while! Tell me what you think, please, and I am very happy you read my chapter! Thanks!