Hi all! I know this is a bit of a short update, but my schedule is getting busier and busier as winter break nears. So, if I don't keep the chapters on the shorter side, you'll be waiting for a really long time between updates. And I was wondering, are any of you posters on the Fox site?? I'm HCDynamite05 over there, I just thought it would be nice to know if any of you folks are people I talk to on there, as well :-) As always, thanks so much for the reviews and for reading, and please do keep reviewing :-D
With the exception of Wilson, no one had missed House's presence in the cafeteria at lunchtime. And while it was highly unusual for him to pass up a free lunch with his enabling best friend, House was usually such a nuisance in the cafeteria that the tranquility resulting from his absence was simply an enjoyable anomaly for everyone else.
Instead, House spent the noon hour holed up in the office. The scene inside would have seemed typical to any regular passersby observing through the glass; House sat at his desk, feet propped up, rhythmically tapping his large gray and orange ball on its surface.
What the outside observer would have missed, however, was the pretty woman sitting on House's white lounge chair. They would have missed Amber because she was an invisible figment of House's increasingly disturbed psyche.
"You can't just keep ignoring me, you know," Amber said smugly.
"You wanna bet?" House retorted, clearly agitated.
"I think there's quite enough betting going on around here already, don't you?" she replied with a smirk.
"This is exactly why I'm ignoring you," House continued, averting his glance from her. "At first, I thought you were helping me with the patients, helping me pick up on things that I wasn't consciously noticing. Like using the boom box. And the bowling pins. But you damn near killed Chase. So I'm just going to keep pretending you're not there until you actually aren't there."
"You're getting really far with that, aren't you, since you keep talking every time I say something to you," Amber pushed. "Why are you still here, anyway? It's nearly 12:30, how come you aren't downstairs stealing my boyfriend's lunch?"
"Not hungry. And he isn't your boyfriend anymore, unless he has necrophiliac tendencies that I'm not aware of… "
"Very funny, Lewis Black. Since when are you not hungry for free food?"
"Since you're making me sick to my stomach."
"Correction: I'm not making you sick to your stomach. You're making you sick to your stomach. Everything I say and do is you. Don't take it out on my manifestation just because you can't stand being handed what you're usually doling out to everyone else."
House was silent. He didn't know how to respond to that. What Amber said was true and correct; she was him. He could pick up on symptoms that had not been complained of; he had tried to kill Chase. Because Chase was going to be happy. And if there was one thing House couldn't stand, it was anyone around him being that happy when he was unequivocally going through one of the worst things that had ever happened to him, aside from his leg.
Cuddy was lying to him about the baby. She just had to be. The alternative was unconscionable.
"You're thinking about it again," Amber interrupted, verbally cutting into House's internal musings.
"How can I not think about it? You remind me of it every other second," he responded bitterly.
"You know it's yours," Amber stated flatly. "Why don't you just go blow it all wide open?"
"She says it's not mine. She says she slept with another guy. How am I supposed to prove that she didn't? Do an amniotic DNA test without her knowing?"
Amber laughed derisively. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen," she chastised mercilessly. " 'How do I prove it?' This question coming from the man that made four people with varying alcohol tolerances drink shots of tequila to prove that a patient's liver was failing in order to get around Cuddy's paperwork? You're pathetic, House," she continued laughing.
"Fine, I'm pathetic," he yelled, getting up suddenly and leaning into his palms on the desk in front of him. "But maybe I don't want to believe that she would lie to me about something this important. Twice," he said, much quieter this time.
"Believe it," Amber said coolly. " 'Everybody lies,' right House? Isn't that your personal mantra?"
"It's my mantra because it's usually true. Not because that's the way I want things to be."
"Usually true? It's always true, and you know it. And you can't always get what you want, can you?" Amber taunted.
"Go to hell, Cutthroat Bitch," House spat pointedly, grabbing his cane and starting toward the door, turning around to add, "Oh wait, that's right. You're probably already there, aren't you?" he added sarcastically.
"Ouch, Dilapidating Genius. Words can hurt, you know," she said with feigned offense. "Besides, you're only saying them to yourself. Where are you going, anyway?"
"To tell your ex-boyfriend that you've been paying me these little visits," House answered as he got ready to open the door.
"But he'll send us away… you know he'll say we need to go to rehab," Amber replied, sounding sincerely worried.
"No, he'll just be sending you away. If the royal 'we' do go to rehab, I'll get to come back. You won't."
"I'm coming with you to talk to him," Amber said as she got up and followed House into the hallway.
"Knock yourself out. You're as good as gone, anyway," he said under his breath as he made his way to Wilson's office.
"Maybe," Amber replied. "But I won't be going quietly."