Forget Your Troubles
A House Fanfic.
Forget your troubles, come on get happy. You better chase all your cares away.
.
There was color. So much color. He lay in a gurney, surrounded by color.
He was slowly wheeled down a long corridor, and everywhere he looked things seemed backwards, upside down. He tried to see the face of whoever was pushing him along, but the features were blurred beyond recognition.
He jerked as the gurney pushed through the double doors into an operating theatre.
But there was no equipment, only blank faces. Faces covered by surgical masks. The color moved as if it, itself, was alive. House tried to sit up, but his chest felt heavy. There were no restraints, but he could not will himself to struggle against the weight upon him. All he could do was tilt his head and try to look around.
The room was empty now. His mysterious gurney pusher was gone.
He tried to focus on the color, attempt to make it take shape, a shape he could recognize.
And then suddenly, he was sitting. It appeared to be a giant throne, made of what he thought at first glance was gold. But upon closer inspection, he found writing scribbled all over the surface. Names. Patients he had saved. Patients he hadn't. So many names. He couldn't remember them all.
He looked up. In the viewing chamber above he could make out faces.
Wilson. He was dressed as a court jester. His head tilted to the left, and a huge grin spread across his face. House found it disturbing; Wilson would never look like that. But what alarmed him more were the strings coming from his back.
Wilson flung himself over the edge of the platform, the glass gone. But instead of falling to his death, he hung in space. The strings above him held taught, and he began to dance, a puppet strung along by his master, an unseen force above.
Next to him stood Forman. He was dressed as a clown. His face was painted in a frown, a permanent tear on his cheek. He stood completely still.
Taub stood next to him, also a clown. But instead of a frown, his face held a smile. The pair together displayed both comedy and tragedy, and House was finding the allusions and symbols a bit tiresome. If this was a dream, then his subconscious could do better.
But the person next to Taub brought House swiftly back into focus.
Cameron.
She was dressed as an angel. How quaint. An angel of mercy. The title fit her so well. But in her hands she held cards. Tarot cards.
House had to chuckle at the secular and sacred juxtaposed together.
But her face was unsmiling. As she glanced at each card, her frown deepened, and she gave him a look of pity. But she wouldn't reveal the cards to him.
Chase was beside her. Naked. The railing covered his manhood.
His glare spoke volumes, and in his hands he held an apple. Red and ripe and new.
He leaned against the woman beside him. Thirteen.
She leaned back. She was also naked, but her hair, longer than he remembered, covered her breasts, and the railing covered below her waist. She too held an apple. Red and ripe and new.
Each took a bite, but as arms came back down, House watched the apples change. Chase's crumbled in his hands. Thirteen's began to rot. In seconds, all she held was a blackened ball.
They stood back to back, and turned to glare at him in unison.
The power of Thirteen's stare made him uncomfortable. He squirmed in his throne, but couldn't move.
"House." Oh God.
He opened his mouth to speak her name, but found his lips sealed.
"Why, House?"
Black hair fell over her shoulders. Her hospital gown clung to every curve that he loved. Rachel clung to one leg. She was smiling. Cuddy was not.
Behind her, the doors opened again.
And that was when House knew it was over. Everything. He had to be dreaming. Or hallucinating. That was more likely considering.
Kutner stared back at him. He looked like a zombie, but in truth he merely looked as though he had been buried for several years. His flesh was rotting as he had risen from the earth.
But her. Amber.
She was also completely naked. But House couldn't make out anything. The light spilling from the doors behind her partially blinded him, and he could only make out her face.
"Enjoy yourself."
"House." He looked down and found Rachel beside him. She was holding something in her hand. "Do you want some candy?" She held out her tiny hands. Nestled there were little white pills.
"Nnnn!" House couldn't make the words escape. And now they were all coming towards him.
"Have some candy, House."
"You'll feel better."
"It makes all the pain go away."
He struggled away from them, but the throne held him tight like a vice.
They all held pills. And each attempted to make him swallow them. They crowded around him. House felt bile rise in his throat. He couldn't fight them off. He didn't have his cane. He couldn't move.
Finally his lips opened and he could speak. He pushed hands away from his face frantically.
"Cuddy!" But she was already walking away.
"I'm sorry! I'm sor-" But Forman managed to stuff a handful into his mouth.
And the white light overtook him.
.
He was in the bathtub. He tried to calm himself down. It was just a dream. He settled in, but the rattling threw him.
He looked down. No water flowed about him. Instead thousands of Vicodin filled the white porcelain space around his shivering form.
"Noooo!"
.
He sat straight up. The cool tile of the bathroom floor soothed his fingertips.
He brushed a hand across his sweaty brow. Quickly he took stock of his surroundings.
It was his bathroom. The tub was empty. But an empty bottle sat beside him. Vicodin spread across the floor.
And he couldn't help himself.
He brought his knees to his chest. And sobbed.
.
Shout hallelujah, come on get happy. Get ready for the judgment day.
A/N: So, House may seem a little OOC, but he is supposed to. This is my first attempt at dream fiction, and I don't know if I'm completely happy with it. I couldn't get everything I saw in my head down on the page. But I suppose it turned out okay.
I just watched the new House episode, and this popped into my head because the episode was just so off the wall.
This story was partially inspired by a scene from the movie All That Jazz, and well as Cuddy's dream from the episode.
Hope you enjoyed! Please let me know by leaving a review. Positive criticism welcome.
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House, M.D. is the property of David Shore and Fox.