Good Friday
by CT
Disclaimer: I do not own House.
A/N: So, this is obviously religious, and if you post reviews mocking that, then I'm going to remove them.
House woke up, expecting to feel a massive pounding in his head due to the copious amounts of alcohol he had drunk the night before. Instead, he felt nothing but confusion. He was in the middle of a large building that was filled with people. His eyes were blurry, and he couldn't make out anything else but large columns supporting the tall roof. "Hey!" he yelled. "What the hell is this?" he asked the people around him. They didn't seem to hear him; their eyes were fixed ahead.
House looked around for his cane, or maybe a pill bottle, but he saw nothing. It was at that moment he realized that he didn't feel any pain in his leg. He got up, and experimented walking around. It was as if his leg was completely healed. Nobody noticed him walking around. He sat back down. The last time he had felt that way was when he had hallucinated that he was in the bus with Amber. Was this another hallucination? Maybe...
"Hello, Gregory," a man said, walking down the aisle. He had very tan skin, and was wearing a robe. "How are you feeling today?"
"Why can't you be Cuddy stripping like the last hallucination?" House asked bitterly.
"You think you're hallucinating? Interesting." he replied.
"Who are you? Why am I here?"
"You know me," he answered. "And you're a very intelligent man. Figure this out on your own. I'm sure you can. You're the brilliant Dr. House."
"Have I treated you?" House asked, since the man did look familiar, in a distant sort of way.
"If you had treated me, I doubt I would be bestowing praise on you. I'd think insults would be appropriate. You don't treat your patients very respectfully." he said, sitting down next to House.
"Did Cuddy send you to teach me a lesson? She's tried that before, and it hasn't worked then or now." House said. "Did you take my cane?"
"You don't need your cane." the man answered. "As you have already deduced. Nor Vicodin. You're completely healed here."
House didn't reply, but looked around again. He squinted, trying to make out what everybody was looking at. "Oh God."
"Yes?"
"We're in a church." House said. "And apparently one for the deaf and blind. Nobody has responded to us talking loudly or anything. Either that, or they don't care."
"Well, they're happy I'm here," the man said, "but they don't notice us, yes. That's because we're on a different level of existence at this moment."
There was a pause, and then House turned to look at the man, who was smiling blissfully, regarding the altar. "Are you sure you're not a patient of mine? Because if not, you do need some help." House grumbled. "By some nice men in white coats."
"I'm not crazy." the man laughed. "See for yourself. Try to touch them, and you'll go right through them. They are in the physical world. We are beyond it."
"So I'm dead."
"No. Not yet. Give it a few more decades." the man got up, and started walking towards the altar. House followed him.
"Who are you?" House asked.
"You still don't know? House, I'm surprised. You're not using your talents wisely—unless, of course, you've already deduced who I am but is just afraid to say it."
"I'm not afraid." House snapped.
"On the contrary, Gregory, I feel you are very much afraid. You're afraid of the unknown—so you seek to learn all that is possible through your diagnostic work. That's very noble, Gregory. You've saved so many lives." The man stopped, and patted House on the shoulders. He shied away. "I'm so proud of you, but I wish that you would save your own life as well as your patients."
House, for the first time in a very long time, had nothing to say.
"Now, Gregory, who am I?" the man asked.
House took a few steps backward, running into one of the pews. The people didn't notice; they were busy singing the hymn of praise. "Oh, God." he muttered.
"Yes?" the man said, smiling a bit. "Well, I can't really answer to that. Not my proper title, anyway. Gregory, what day is it today?"
"April 10th." House answered.
"In the Church year."
"Yes, I'm such a regular church-goer, so I know." House said sarcastically.
The man shook his head. "It's Good Friday, Dr. House."
"Oh, yeah. The day Jesus got what was coming to him." House said. He expected the man to get upset, but on the contrary, he only laughed.
"That's one way of looking at it, I guess." he replied. "In fact, that's what the Jews and Pharisees of that time did believe. Of course, Christians think of it in a slightly different way. They think of Good Friday as the day I got what everybody else deserved."
House frowned at the use of the pronoun. "Great. You're one of those nuts who believes that he's Jesus."
"I am what I am, Gregory. There's no believing to it." he said.
House considered his options. The man was obviously insane, but since this was just some hallucination, it didn't matter. He might as well-
"Just ignore the man and wait for it to pass." the man completed House's thought. He grinned triumphantly at the doctor.
"So you finish my thought. Think I'm impressed? Why would I be? This is a hallucination; it's all taking place in my head. So you should know my thoughts—since you're in my head too for some reason." House said.
"There's that." the man replied. "Your thought process is rather astounding. You're a very clever human being. It's one of your God-given talents."
"I made myself clever. Don't bring God into this." House snapped.
"But He is everywhere. It's impossible not to bring Him into this." he replied.
"I don't believe in God. Or you, for that matter," House said. "so don't waste your time trying to convert me."
"House, you see miracles happen everyday."
"Due to my expertise, not by yours."
"Couldn't God be working through you?" he asked. "Do you know how many of your patients believe that God worked through you when you healed them?"
"Probably most of them, because most of my patients are idiots." House replied.
The man walked by the preacher, who was reciting one of the Good Friday scriptures. He gently touched the preacher's shoulder.
"Why aren't you talking to him?" House asked. "He wants to see you more than me."
"But he doesn't need to see me. You do."
House snorted. "I don't need a God."
"On the contrary, that's what you have been looking for all your life."
"Yes, so all my blasphemous and atheistic comments have been just an act."
"Gregory, you try to explain the world through logic and reason. That's your life as a doctor, and as a person. But you need more than that. You need a higher power, Gregory. You are just a human."
"Well, so are you."
"I am." He grinned. "You doubt mankind, you doubt a God, but you never doubt yourself. Maybe you should."
"I thought you're not supposed to doubt. You're supposed to have faith." House replied bitterly.
"I doubted." he said. "In fact, that's what the preacher is talking about right now. My doubt in the Garden. When I cried to my God to take this-"
House walked away, rolling his eyes.
"You are such a doubting Thomas." the man laughed. "Do you need to see my hands? Do you need proof?"
"I always need proof." House said, his back to the man.
"But sometimes, Gregory, you can't have proof. You can't have a reason. You can't have an explanation. Lawrence Kutner, for example."
"Yeah, tell me how that fits in with your Divine Scheme." House snapped.
"House, while you are an intelligent being, I do not believe you could understand the 'Divine Scheme' of things."
"Try me." House said, turning to the man. He laughed.
"If you want to talk to Kutner, there he is." he gestured to one of the pews. House didn't move.
"He's a Hindu. Why would he be in a church?"
"I put his soul here temporarily so you could speak to him. Do you want to? He will answer you." House glanced toward the pew, but didn't move toward it. "So you refuse to even go and look. Is it because you're afraid of the truth? You're afraid of what answer Lawrence would give you?"
"I'm not afraid!"
"Gregory, you are more afraid than even you know. You're afraid of a higher power, you're afraid that there are things you cannot have proof of, that have no reason. You're afraid that you're losing your ability to deduce, to reason. You're afraid you've already lost your ability to love. But you haven't. As a doctor, you have saved so many people, so many lives. Now, Gregory, isn't it time to save yourself?" Jesus asked, putting out one hand that had a bloody hole in the center. "Take my hand, and you can know and understand more than ever before. Religion does not dampen the mind; it expands it. Please, Gregory," and he his eyes were full of tears, "Take my hand. I'm so proud of you, for all that you have done. Just have faith."
"I don't have faith." House replied. "I have reason. I have logic."
"But you will find that that will fail you, eventually. It already has, with Kutner's death. Where was the logic in that?"
"I'd ask you the same thing."
"There wasn't, Gregory. There was none. He was depressed, he was lonely, he didn't know his place in the world. Just like you."
"I am a doctor. I save lives through logic and science, not through faith and praying to a God which doesn't exist. I am not depressed. I am not lonely."
"You may say that to yourself and believe it, but I know that you are lying. Oh, House...House..."
"House!" Cuddy screamed, shaking the doctor awake. "You idiot!"
"Oh, great. Waking up to Cuddy's cleavage in my face. Brings back good memories." House grumbled, getting up from his chair, shakily. He was suddenly aware of the pain in his leg, and the pounding of his head.
"You're a doctor, you should know that Vicodin and booze doesn't mix!" Cuddy snapped. House looked around. 13, Foreman, and Taub were glaring at him. Taub had a disgusting mess on his coat which House suspected was his vomit. "You overdosed on Vicodin and then had a few beers last night, didn't you?" Cuddy demanded. "It's a miracle you're not dead right now."
"Miracles don't exist, Cuddy." House replied.