Chapter 17...It's decently long, hope that makes up for how long it took. Seems like every ten days or so is how long it takes my brain to get it right...or close to right :)
Also... if I'm dragging things out too much, please let me know. It's always a fear of mine...
Enjoy.
"Mommy, where are you?"
Cuddy stirred to the sound of her imploring child, as she heard her door creak ajar and soft footsteps shuffle into her room. She cracked one eye open towards her daughter's voice, now only a foot away.
"Rachel, it's like five in the morning, what are you doing up?"
"I's can't sleep."
"This is the third time this week you can't sleep." Cuddy sighed and shifted, lifting up the covers, "Get in…but only to sleep. I need at least another hour please."
"Okay." She snuggled up to her mother's side, tucking her stuffed animals under her chin and immediately closing her eyes, for which Cuddy was extremely grateful.
Closing her eyes as well, she brought the comforter closer around both of them to fend off the chill of the early morning. She carefully shoved Rachel over a little to make room for herself; her daughter had a penchant for hogging the bed like she was a giant dog all sprawled out and it had been some time since Cuddy had a proper sleep. Between Rachel's new abrupt morning alarm clock, and a wave of weird dreams coursing through her at night, she hadn't felt rested in weeks. She couldn't explain why her daughter was waking prematurely, but she knew exactly what caused her vivid dreams, there was a guest-star almost every night she closed her eyes, and he had a limp.
It had been one month since House left, since their epically ill-fated phone call a couple days later. At first, she had pushed all her feelings away. Not allowing herself to have any thoughts whatsoever, her anger at him, at his absolute irrationality fueled her on; but only briefly. Then her anger turned to sadness, he hadn't called back, he hadn't even written, and it left her feeling empty, and hurt that their miscommunication would last this long without any glimpse of reprieve.
Cuddy squeezed her eyes tighter, clearing her mind completely as Rachel's breathing calmed her, and finally after time, lulled her to sleep.
'Ring…ring…ring…ring…ring…ring…' she heard the phone ring abruptly, breaking into her thoughts as she hovered over a mountain of paperwork on her desk. She was haphazardly sifting through the heap as the phone continued to ring. Staring at the phone only briefly she went back to her work, determined to ignore the intrusion to the best of her abilities.
The phone stopped, finally giving her some much needed silence as she carried on with her papers, but it was only a brief pardon as her office door flew opened, and her ultimate annoyance came in, holding his cell-phone pointedly up to his ear as he took his usual seat across from her.
"Are we screening calls today, boss?"
Cuddy sighed without looking up, "Yes, because I knew it was you."
"How could you have possibly known that, there isn't caller-id on that phone?"
She put her pen down and faced her annoyance, "Right, but I knew you would repeatedly bug me today to get out of teaching the diagnostics seminar…oh and look at that, I'm right."
He sneezed dramatically, "I wouldn't have to resort to weaseling if you had just met my terms for doing the seminar in the first place."
"Yes, because a flat screen TV and oral sex are perfectly reasonable requests in order for you to teach a one hour seminar."
House looked at her with big eyes, driving his point home, "Well I would be more than happy to erase the flat screen TV off my list…if that helps."
"It doesn't, you're doing the class House, now get out of my office before I add another class to that list…I am currently looking for someone to teach a class on the dangers of untreated foot fungus."
House sneezed again, more forcefully this time as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a tissue. "I really can't teach that's why I was calling. I'm sick."
"Sure." She looked back down to her work.
"I am. I have the discolored snot to prove it."
"Get some antihistamines and report to the auditorium in an hour."
"Maybe you're not hearing me. I'm sick. I was exposed to a million viruses last week from your putrid clinic that you force me to work at. I could have a number of illnesses"
"I don't care."
"Well you should. You're a doctor, or at least you used to be…I need medical attention here."
"For a cold?"
"I told you I could have anything."
Cuddy stared at him, "House I don't have time for this."
"I'm sick."
"I heard you, I don't care."
He coughed and sneezed more fitfully this time, Cuddy saw him take out more tissue and rub his nose. He looked at her strangely as if he was going to say something else, and Cuddy could see a melancholy etched in his features. Finally, he appeared to decide something and got up from his chair, inching closer so he was standing right in front of the desk looking down at her, "I really am sick you know." His tone was suddenly strangely serious, "I'm not myself, I feel like someone else…all the time." He finished in a hushed tone, never breaking contact with her.
Cuddy felt herself shiver, like something he said made sense to her. She could finally see now what he had been really trying to say. The room seemed to grow brighter as she rose up from her place sitting behind her desk, coming around closer to him, reaching out her hand to grab hold of his.
She found it blindly as, what seemed to be the sun, blinded her vision, and the room became hotter, even though his hand felt intensely freezing to her touch.
"Why are you so cold?" She asked reaching up to his cheek to find the iciness was there upon his skin as well. "House, you're freezing, it's like…"
"It's like what?" he asked, his breath coming out with wisps of cold air attached to it.
"It's like you're frozen or…none of this is real." She spoke as the realization hit her. All of the sudden she heard a long scream, it belonged to a man from somewhere far off in the distance, but she had no idea where…and she also knew it sounded hauntingly familiar.
Her body swiftly began to tremble as she looked up to House, "Why can I hear you screaming House?"
His face was staring blankly back at her, "I'm in pain."
"You are always in pain."
"Not like this…it's different…I'm different." He sounded back at her like a robot that was winding down, she could see his face fall a bit, his chin resting against his chest as his eyes closed, and stillness surrounded her once more.
Cuddy squeezed his hand tightly in hers, but it felt lifeless, like a corpse. She let it go and backed away, willing herself to wake up and end this strange illusion. She fumbled her way to the bathroom in her office and turned on the faucet, shaking her head to wake up before she doused her whole head with water, "Wake…"
"Up!" She bolted upright, her body surged with tension, and she could feel the sweat dripping down her forehead. Rachel stirred against her and opened her eyes, the light had crept into the room and morning had arrived for them both.
"Mommy?" Rachel panicked at the sudden movement.
Cuddy swallowed, her throat was painfully dry, "It's okay Rach…sorry." She wiped the sweat from her brow and put her hands over her eyes, still trying to hide from the vivid memories of the dream that just took her sleep. "I had a bad dream."
"Was there a baddie in it?" Rachel climbed onto her mother's lap, rubbing her eyes and slowly waking up herself.
The comfort of Rachel's warmth filled her up as she placed her hands around her daughter, "No…it was just strange." Cuddy ran her fingers in small circles over her daughter's back, more to comfort herself that anything else. The dream was starting to fade, as all dreams do, but something about this one stuck with her, and she couldn't shake the sensation that she needed to hold on to it…figure it out somehow.
"Maybe you's should of called a friend to help you cause-um sometimes my friends come to my dreams when I's scared." Rachel shifted and smiled up at Cuddy.
"Well that is good advice, I will try that next time." She kissed her on the top of the head, "What do you say we have some breakfast?" Rachel nodded and bounced off her lap, running down the hall as Cuddy stretched her body and moved slowly out of bed.
Her mind was racing as she found her robe and wrapped it around her, she could still see House's head fall forward as if the life was sucked out of him, and the image frightened her.
The family room was already full of noise once Cuddy finally made her way to the kitchen, "Rachel turn that down please."
"Okay!" Rachel shouted over the sound of her morning cartoons.
Cuddy waited till she could hear herself talk again before she spoke, "What do you want to eat?"
"Uh…pizza, just like Bosco."
"Pizza for breakfast? And who is Bosco?"
Rachel sighed and pointed, "The froggie on TV Mom."
"Oh…no pizza, maybe for dinner." Cuddy rummaged through her refrigerator, "How about eggs with cheese?"
"Okay." Rachel confirmed as she came into the kitchen and began scooting the barstool over to the counter next to the stove. Helping scramble eggs in the pan was one of her favorite things to do. "I'm ready." She smiled, as Cuddy began heating up the pan.
"Okay, let me scramble them up a little than you can do the rest in the pan okay."
Rachel smiled and sat patiently waiting on her perch, as a huge sense of de-ja-vu crashed over Cuddy. Something about Rachel sitting in that spot caused her to recall House in the same kitchen, cooking soup, as she herself sat exactly where Rachel was. It was strange, she thought of their weekend together more than she cared to admit, especially after what happened with their phone call, but this was different. It was like she needed to piece together clues to a mystery, and she couldn't decipher what her subconscious was trying to acknowledge.
Cuddy handed Rachel a spoon and allowed her to push the eggs around until they were decently scrambled, "Okay, good job, now sprinkle the cheese and you are done." Cuddy smiled at her helpful daughter, giving her the attention she deserved, instead of her pestering internal thoughts.
Rachel completed her task and scooted off the stool towards the couch. "Can I's eat in here Mommy?" She pointed, "My best cartoons is starting."
"They are all your best cartoons…but yes." Cuddy brought her daughter's plate out to the coffee table with a pile of steaming hot cheesy eggs on it, and returned to eat alone in the kitchen.
She sat facing the stove and the stool, now vacated, still resting where Rachel left it. As she pushed her eggs around the plate she closed her eyes and tried to remember the details of their conversation that day. She was sick, that much she could remember, and House was sweetly cooking for her and Rachel.
He was acting strange, and she tried to pry into what he was keeping from her. Deep down, she still knew there was something left unsaid that weekend, but ultimately Cuddy thought it was about them, something he was scared to divulge or admit too…but that all was starting to seem too simple. House was so subdued and his spirit was changed…Cuddy opened her eyes back up and stared at her food, like her eggs would hold the key to the mystery she was trying to unravel.
"Ahh-chhoo!" Rachel let out a loud sneeze from the family room, snapping Cuddy's head towards the sound and triggering her dream from the night before…instantly she heard House sneeze as loudly as if he were right there next to her.
'I'm sick…'
All oxygen seemed to escape her lungs as his words echoed in her head…and the answer to the elusive puzzle came hurtling towards her senses.
'House is sick!' Her own voice shouted in her head, as the bile in her stomach rose in her throat from the horrific realization.
She got up quickly and threw her plate in the sink, practically running to her bedroom and grabbing the phone in her already clammy hand. Her hands quivered wildly as she began to dial his number…but then she stopped dead in her tracks. 'He won't tell me,' she knew in her heart that he would have told her by now, but something had stopped him. She refreshed the phone and began to dial another number, for someone who would surely give her the answers she needed…
Wilson pulled open the door to the ICU room at the end of the hall, a last ditch effort to locate House. Finally he had succeeded as he pulled back the curtain to reveal his wayward employee; his legs were crossed in front of him on the bed, a small TV was propped lopsided on his lap. "I've been looking for you all day."
"Surely not all day." House mocked not looking up once from the program he was watching.
"Well besides the fact that we have tickets to the hockey game in an hour, you also missed your MRI this morning."
House gasped, "That was today…well my secretary is fired, oh wait, that would be Taub."
Wilson was livid at his flippant reply, "House, I already…against my much better judgment, agreed to your asinine plan of monitoring your tumor's growth before I schedule your inevitable surgery, but if you start missing the test that allows me to do at least that much of my job-"
"Oh my God!" House abruptly cut in, turning towards Wilson's rant. "Erica and Frank broke up…they just had quadruplets!" He put his hand over his mouth and turned back to the television.
"House!"
"What…it got you to stop ranting." He said calmly.
"I'm serious!" Wilson's blood was burning as House continued to push him.
"Will you shut-up. I actually did forget about the MRI. I already rescheduled for Tuesday."
Wilson practically pulled his hair out as he ran his fingers over the short strands to calm himself. He sighed deeply, "Why can't you just say that?"
"How long have you known me, do we need to have this conversation every time-" Wilson's phone began to ring loudly from inside his lab coat pocket; the sound reverberated against the walls of the small room.
"Ssshh." House placed his finger to his lips with a genuinely pissed off expression on his face.
Wilson rolled his eyes and answered before looking at who the number belonged too. "Hello?" He placed his other hand over his ear to drown out the sound of House's television, now cranked way above normal volume.
"Wilson?"
He knew that voice, "Uh, yeah Hi."
"Are you with House right now?"
Wilson slightly turned back to House, but rethought and took a couple steps to the door instead. "Yes I am."
"Well, could you not be…" Cuddy's voice sounded tentative, like she was scared over something.
"Yes, that's fine. Just let me go-uh-grab the file…hang on one second will you." He put his hand over the receiver and approached House. "We still on for hockey?"
"Meet you outside in twenty." House motioned his hand for him to get lost, while his eyes remained locked on the small television set in front of him.
Wilson closed the door and walked hurriedly down the hallway towards the stairs, waiting till House was out of earshot before he put the phone back to his ear.
Cuddy her some shuffling and the faint sound of House's voice before she thought she heard Wilson, "Hey you back?"
"Yeah I'm in the elevator, but I only have twenty minutes before I have to meet House so…what's wrong?"
She furrowed her brow at his accurate diagnosis, "Why do you assume something's wrong?"
"Uh…we've been friends for twenty years."
"Fine…" She paused, not knowing the best way to brooch this. Should she trick him into confessing the answers that she craved, or should she just be direct? She had so hastily picked up the phone to find out if her feelings were accurate, she had no idea what to say…'maybe I'm wrong.' she wondered…and longed for.
"You still there?"
"Yeah…sorry. I'm calling because I…I can't shake this feeling…is there something you should tell me…about House?" She asked slightly indirectly and waited with bated breath for his response.
"I'm not sure I know what you mean." He feebly replied as she caught him off guard.
"I think you do." Her voice was shaky but she tried to mask it with a sense of knowing.
"I thought you didn't want to know anything about him."
"Yes…but things have changed."
"He's not using vicodin if that's why you called. He tried…the night that you two spoke."
Cuddy was pacing the floor without realizing her actions and slowed to a stop at the mention of vicodin. That ever present fear had also crossed her mind a thousand times since she last heard his voice; that he would use again. The phone call ended so frustratingly abruptly and she knew it would test him, "How did you stop him? I know how late it was-"
"He called me…" Wilson cut in, "Look I don't know all the details between you two, House hasn't spoken your name since that night, and in his current state of mind…I haven't pushed."
Cuddy ran Wilson's words around in her head, it wasn't like him not to push, not to meddle in everyone's personal affairs, and she knew then, that whatever House was keeping from her, James Wilson knew…"Why are you being careful all of the sudden?"
"Because House is in a fragile place…you're not here-" he fumbled.
"I have been gone nearly eight months Wilson."
"Yes I know…while we're on that subject, your job is available anytime you want it back. I don't know how you've handled this crap for all these years."
Cuddy ignored his weak attempt to distract her, "I know he's keeping something from me…and now I know you are also keeping something from me by the way you're talking."
She could hear him let out a long sigh before he responded carefully, "Even if I did, I'm not in this…you need to talk to House."
"No, I need to talk to you. We both know House, and whatever this 'secret' is that he thinks is better to keep from me…you know he won't back down from his irrationality once he sets his mind against it."
"Cuddy…I don't-"
"Answer me this. Do you actually think its better that I don't know…whatever this 'secret' is?"
"…No." Wilson's voice was faint but his confirmation was unmistakable.
Cuddy's whole body shook as she steeled herself a moment before she asked the one question that was the sole reason for her hasty phone call. "Is he sick?"
She heard his breathing…but nothing else…and the silence was deafening. "Wilson…how bad is it?"
"How did you know?" His strained voice sounded back to her.
"I didn't…"
"Then why would you ask-"
"I could see it in his face…I just didn't recognize what I was seeing until now."
"House should be the one-"
"Stop!" Her voice echoed around her, "Wilson, please…I need to know."
There was a long pause, and Cuddy felt her mind race with possible outcomes as she waited for Wilson to finally tell her the truth. She heard him let out a long tired sigh before he started, "He had a seizure…about a month before Christmas. Thirteen found him lying unconscious in his office. We ran tests and found a small mass…in his right frontal lobe." Wilson hesitated.
Cuddy's whole body felt like it would crumble as his words hit her. She blindly made her way to her bed to sit before she could hear anymore. "What did the biopsy say?"
"He has an atypical meningioma."
The air was ripped from her lungs as House's diagnosis was finally revealed…"What do you mean 'has?' You haven't removed it yet?" She was frantic.
"House opted for Radio Surgery and we did aggressive radiation therapy for the cancerous cells we found from the biopsy, the procedure went well, but the radiation took a toll on him for a while there...however, despite everything…recently we found that a piece still remains."
"How recently?"
"I got the results back while he was with you…"
Cuddy wiped the tears falling wildly down her cheeks, "That's why you called here…to tell him…" she whispered to herself.
"Yes."
"I don't understand. If you knew about the piece that's left…it's been a month, why hasn't the surgery taken place?"
"Because House is a stubborn ass." Wilson relented.
"He doesn't want to do it." Cuddy stated quietly, "He would rather wait for it to kill him before he ran the risk of losing brain function."
"Cuddy…we have both seen this kind of tumor.…" Wilson sounded just as terrified as she did, "Even if we did manage to get it all now…the survival rate past ten years is…" Cuddy's heart broke in a million pieces as she heard the hitch in Wilson's voice, "The chances of re-growth are high-"
"But not so high that it's not worth fighting for."
"I know…and I'm trying to convince him. But I can't physically force him to do the surgery, he has to concede, and right now…"
"Right now…he's being House."
"I'm working on it. I'm doing everything I can barring sedating him and losing my license to perform the surgery against his will."
"You should have told me."
"You have to know that I wanted too…but you…honestly with everything that you two have been through I wasn't sure if you knowing about all this would make it better…or worse for him."
It felt like a dagger stuck into her chest as she began to comprehend that Wilson was absolutely right. She was no longer a person that could help him; she left him and she knowingly gave up that role. Cuddy worried her fingers over the necklace she was wearing, the one that House had returned to her, from so many years before…"You might be right. House and I…are all over the place right now…but I can't sit back and allow him to die-I can't." Her voice cracked…she never felt so helpless in all her life.
"I'm doing everything I can, please trust that. I hate to leave you like this but if I don't meet House in the next five minutes he will know something's up, if he doesn't already." Wilson paused to give her a chance to say anything, but she was silent, "There is nothing you can do for him now…he will come around and do what's right, you just have to allow the process to happen."
She couldn't process anything, her body felt incredibly numb, and her voice felt as if it didn't even belong to her. "I have to go." She hung up quickly before she broke down completely. Wilson's words were swirling in her head along with House's face. She could see in perfect clarity the sickness in his face as they sat on her porch together in the late afternoon sun, she could still picture the way he hunched over while he was making her soup in the kitchen; the sadness in his face was all she could see now. It was the face of a man who was dying, who had given into his fate. Whatever Wilson thought he could accomplish with House…she knew better. House was a man resigned to let himself die…he had made a decision.
Forcing herself to get up from the bed, she hurried to the bathroom to douse her face with cold water. It took all of her not to be sick…she was going to lose him; that he wouldn't just be thousands of miles away, but gone to her forever.
She looked in the mirror, purposely pushing air through her lungs so the overwhelming dizziness would subside. There was only one thought racing in her mind, and she knew exactly what she had to do.
Making her way back down the hall to her bedroom, she found what she needed and opened her laptop. Sitting at her desk she began her search, booking an immediate flight for her and Rachel, without any hesitations…she was going home.
It was 9:30am and House had hit the snooze on his alarm about ten times since the abhorrent noise roused him from a catatonic sleep. It sounded off once more before House finally had enough, and threw it aggressively against the wall, causing the sound to remain intact, but in one unending, irritating beep.
Now apparent that he must get up to stop the annoyance from the corner of his room, he carefully shifted upright, noting his head felt like a bunch of screws were burrowing their way into his brain as he achieved the upright standing position. He yanked the batteries out of the alarm clock and threw them into the trash bin before he slowly limped to the bathroom, trying to piece together the events from the night before…
House had been out drinking, alone, that much he could remember. There were moments that House picked up the phone to drag Wilson out with him, but he thought it best to remain solitary.
It was late the evening before when House had returned to his empty apartment. Just finishing up on a case with a thirteen year old girl. He was tired and cranky from being sucked into dealing with the mentally incompetent parents of his patient, and wanted nothing more than to go home and drink in his boxers while watching the crappiest reality TV channel he could find. It was all he could think about on his short drive home, and as soon as he got in the door he poured himself a tall drink and made his way immediately to the sofa.
However once he sat down, having already removed his pants, shoes, and flipping on the television, he soon discovered that his cable was out. House downed his glass and chucked his remote on the table before he pondered what to do next.
He decided to play guitar but he knew one of his strings was broken so he limped over to his closet to search for some spares. He knew they were in a box on the floor somewhere but when he reached down to search for them, he discovered something else instead. Cuddy's high heels, shiny black ones, nestled in the corner of his closet gathering dust behind his old beat-up gym bag that hadn't been moved in many months.
He had no idea how they got back there. It must have been a cleaning lady that put them there months before. Whoever it was, it didn't change the fact that they were there, and that House was frozen in his spot, staring without touching, like they were going to get up and walk away from him if he moved any further.
He felt his chest ache instantly as the image of her came to his mind, walking down the hallway towards him wearing those same shoes, a file in her hand…just like before, before everything changed for both of them. House could see her smiling, fidgeting like she always did, her eyes sparkling at him, it was so clear a picture of her he concocted, that he got lost in her image for what felt like a long time.
Eventually he snapped back to the present and hated himself for being so easily weakened by the mere thought of her. He had tried so hard for the last few weeks to push her from his mind, an impossible goal but one that he fought to achieve, because the alternative was missing her, and picturing her with someone else. It was a hurt that was so unbelievably rich with emotions that he had to flee; it was the only thing he could control.
House slammed the closet shut forgetting the strings and grabbed his keys. From there he ventured out and found the closest bar to his home and drank until close, which was why his hangover was threatening to kick his ass all day. He rubbed his temples and found his way to the kitchen, knowing he needed a strong pot of coffee in him before he had any chance of getting to work.
It was nearly twelve thirty by the time House made it into the hospital. Ignoring the dirty look from Wilson as he walked passed him to the elevator, he also managed to push the button and have the doors close around him before Wilson could pester him further.
Having finished the case the day prior he spent the rest of the day trying to find a new case so Wilson would stop assuming he had any time to do the mountain of paperwork on his desk. That House was of course avoiding like the plague. He had tried to coerce Thirteen for weeks now to do it for him, but she kept insisting she was not his bitch, so House finally gave up.
"Hey I think I found one." Chase called from the other side of the office where his team was pulling case files to review.
House closed his eyes as the pounding in his head came rushing back with the loudness of Chase's voice. Shifting carefully from his desk he hobbled next door. "What did I tell you about the shouting today."
"Right, sorry. Thirteen year old boy, presented with acute migraine and loss of feeling in his right foot."
"He has a brain tumor…this is what I limped in here for?" He turned to leave.
"The MRI showed no mass." Chase finished quickly; he knew House would conclude that.
It seemed a sick twist of irony that a lot of House's patients lately had either cancer or a tumor. Like some cosmic force was shoving his own illness back in his face, mocking him. "Okay, start testing…wait." House recalled the last patient with incompetent parents and he cringed at the thought of working with another set. "Does this kid have parents that look like nit-wit asses that can barely string two words together?"
"Actually no, this kid is from a foster facility. He is a ward of the state." Chase was pleased with himself.
"Excellent. Do a full work up on Oliver Twist…and don't come back until you all have your library voices with you." House pointed with his cane at Chase and walked slowly back to his own office.
He sat behind his desk and knew very abruptly that he needed food before he threw up, preferably something greasy, so he reached behind him and rummaged through his jacket pocket looking for his wallet. What felt like a small folded piece of paper brushed against his hand, unsure of what it was, he pulled it out along with his wallet to inspect it further.
He saw her name before he unfolded it the rest of the way, it was a letter, he recognized his small print smeared over the page. Something he must have written the night prior in his drunken state. Upon further inspection he noticed it was scribbled on the back of an order taking paper. Like he ripped it out or a notepad that a waitress would use. House had no recollection of writing anything at all, which was concerning as to how much alcohol he actually consumed last night, but a perfect explanation for the extreme hangover he couldn't seem to shake.
He started to read but thought against it. Whatever feelings he was having last night were probably not great. He had left the house to get away from the memory of her, from the blatant reminder of her long ago presence in his life, her high heels still collecting dust on the floor of his closet…untouched.
He placed the paper on the top of his voluminous stack of paperwork from the last couple months and got up from his chair, thinking that a nap was more important than the food that led him to find the drunken letter in his pocket.
Switching off the lights and dropping heavily in his recliner chair in the corner of his office he closed his eyes against the turmoil inside and fell into a deep sleep…
"So…what are we doing tonight?'" Cuddy came wandering into his office. The rain was pouring; pounding on his window outside as the wind howled violently. Her voice seemed so far away even though she was now standing in front of his desk.
He looked up and removed his glasses. "I don't know."
She looked hurt like she was expecting him to have a much better response. "You haven't thought of anything?"
House was confused, he couldn't even remember getting to work that morning, it felt like he was sleepwalking. Shaking his head at the eerie sensation that he had lived this moment already, he tried to push it away, "Uh…besides talking you home to my place…no." She looked gorgeous, wearing one of his favorite outfits, one that caused him to think of nothing else than her amazing curves and the feel of her body.
"House I thought you were planning something special tonight…you said-it's our anniversary…the day we first danced, the party…remember?"
The room grew fuzzier as he muddled through his recollection to decipher what plans he might have made for the occasion, but he came up entirely blank. He looked into her eyes for some clue to help, but all he saw staring back were the eyes of a woman who seemed utterly disappointed, and who was waiting in vain for the correct sentence to be spoken. "I'm sorry…my head feels…off." He tried being honest.
"You forgot." She stated simply, backing slowly away towards the doorframe.
"No…yes." He closed his eyes…and slowly his memories started to flood into his conscious, replaying this same conversation that was currently taking place in his office. He could hear his next words in his head before he repeated them out loud. "We can do it another night…or just come over instead." It came out almost robotic as he spoke to her, knowing exactly what she would say next…'Fine, forget it. I'm going home.'
"Fine…forget it. I'm going home." She matched the words in his head precisely…and he knew he was trapped in some distant conversation, not knowing how the hell he got here.
And his response would be, "Look I'm sorry, we can do it tomorrow. Dinner?" He hazily spoke; it felt like he was being controlled like a puppet set to autopilot.
She inched the rest of the way to the door and turned back one last time. "It doesn't matter, let's just forget about it…I'll see you tomorrow." She barely looked at him as she spoke, then turned and walked slowly down the almost empty hallway, all that was left were the clicking of her heels before they eventually faded into nothing…
House shifted in his sleep, and started to wake. Realizing his bizarre flashback dream before he opened his eyes fully, but he didn't want to wake, not yet. He would much prefer to sleep his agony away. The pain in his leg, head, and heart only eased with sleep. So he squeezed his eyes tighter and cleared his mind the best he could, and the grogginess took hold of him again.
It was then, he slowly started to hear a familiar noise. The clicking of high heels, so distinctly belonging to her, sounded in his mind just like moments before. The way she walked was burned forever in him, he would never forget it. This time they appeared stronger and he could sense her growing closer to him, instead of away with each step. Louder and louder they rang until suddenly they stopped, like she was right outside, standing in his doorway, the same place she was in his dream.
Suddenly it came crashing into him…He felt awake. His eyes were still shut, but he felt in control, the sound of the shoes hitting the floor were different than before, almost as if he didn't imagine them…
House thought he was crazy, but he could feel her too…like she was watching him, the smell of her perfume wafted towards him before he dared check to see if he was correct. It was all he could take, whether this was another illusion or not, there was only one way to find out. He cracked his eyes open and glanced to his doorway…
And she was there…