A/N: I thought i'd try something new and write from a new pov, just to tone the writing muscle and commemorate (is that the word?) last Monday night's episode. Tell me if i'm too biased, or whatever, if the flaming can be kept to a minimum.

Edit: I hate Notepad for making the initial draft look like e.e. cummings' ghost was possessing me. (My apologies :D)

Warning: MAJOR SPOILERS. if you haven't seen "Simple Explanation", do not read further. There. That's today's good deed. On that note, special prize for the person who figures out where the title of the chapter came from and its relevance to the episode.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

April 2nd, 2009

5:55 am

Getting out of bed, you muse, had gotten harder. Looking in the mirror was harder. Going through the motions was all you had energy for these days.

Routine.
You collected your paper, drank your coffee, showered, dressed, kissed the wife, went to work. Tried not to throw up in the process. the now-looming facade of the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital was enough to make you turn green these days.
0000000000000000000000000000000

7:40 am

You knew.
You knew you looked ridiculous, taking deep yoga breaths in the middle of the stupid parking lot. It's the only thing you remember from the one session you were coerced into going to, and at this point, you'll do whatever works. Tears would be shining in your eyes if you were a crying kind of guy. but you aren't. The perpetually sour expression on your face would settle in for the day, and you would go in and do your job.

0000000000000000000000000000000

8:05 am

Cold.
Things fazed you, but they never broke your stride. you didn't give up. Granted, you don't have the single-minded focus that House does, the compassion that Wilson does, the strength that Cuddy does... the drive that Cameron does, the resilience that Chase does, the confidence that Foreman does, or work as hard as Thirteen, or have Kutner's passion.

But you come in. You show the hell up, and do your damn job. You scoff (sometimes at Kutner, or patients, but mostly at House,) you contribute to the differential diagnosis, you run the tests, you cure the guy, and you go home. You mocked foreman just to get a rise out of Thirteen, calling him a robot, while the voice inside your head was niggling at you, saying that you're the actual robot.

Heartless.
You were the one that shows the least emotion, the least commitment, the most desire to get the fuck out. To just stop. To just end the nausea that life seems to induce, that doing the job seems to induce, that looking at your wife and your BMW and your significantly less paycheck seems to induce. (looking at House, watching Kutner bite into a doughnut from the basket seems to induce.) But you don't. You keep telling yourself that you're saving lives, becoming a better man, a better doctor, doing something meaningful.
You pretend the new found, convoluted side of medicine is helping you move away from the superficial.
You ignore the fact that the superficial is what drove you to Plastics. You forget that you were proud of the fact that you could make people feel better about themselves, because, once upon a time, you thought that being healthy isn't worth anything if you don't feel good.

00000000000000000000000000000000

9:40 am

Hypocrite.
You know. You know that every time you lecture a clinic patient, every time you take a history, every time you patronize while hooking up an iv, that you've turned into somebody you hated once. Stoic.

Self-righteous.

Condescending.

It should kill you that the ghost of the honorable Mayor Isaac Taub seems like it's currently possessing you, but it doesn't.

000000000000000000000000000000000

10:17 am

Numb.
You sit down at the glass conference table and chart, for lack of a better option, answer Kutner's phone call, drawl at him about an interesting case and tell him to show up no later than noon. You stay there while Foreman goes for a consult and Thirteen takes a history. You toss the case file at House when he comes in.
The day has officially started.

000000000000000000000000000000000

12:45 pm

Thirteen and foreman have gone to Kutner's house to find out where he is. You run tests and check on the patient, and plan to run tests and check on other patients behind House's back, only to be found out. You steel yourself and take the taunting house seems to deal out, despite last time's computer idea, and you accept the fact that House knows you lied about the rat pee. At least you care enough about the job to lie, you think. You cared enough about the marriage, which might not apply to the same concept, but you think it nonetheless.

t 000000000000000000000000000000000

2:17 pm

You are stunned at the news. You think, just for a moment, that Kutner was a day late in pranking everybody, but Kutner, being Kutner, probably took a day to gather courage. Just for a moment. More numb than usual, if it was possible. But you were. You walked the halls of PPTH like the zombie everybody thought you were.

000000000000000000000000000000000

April 4th, 2009

3:57 AM

Time doesn't hold any significance for you anymore. You browbeat your patient out of effectively killing himself, and you berate Cuddy, and you bring Eddie into his wife's room to hold her hand as she dies. You don't go home for two days, hovering over the patient and being obsessive about charting.

6:09 AM

Aftert the umpteenth time you look back at this minute, you deem the experience liberating. Like a dam bursting and soaking the yearning land. Finally. Finally, something snaps inside you and the floodgates open. Everything you have bottled up inside has finally broken the walls.

You sit on the bench outside the ICU, and finally, the tears come.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A/N: I'm really not that happy with this one, and my apologies for the ending. Next one will be better, I promise.

Read and Review, as always.