3:13 AM
I blink and look around. It's sunny, a splendid fall day, a bright sun in a perfect blue sky. The trees are ablaze with color, and I have the perfect view. I'm alone on the roof of the hospital.
I reach in my pocket and find a pack of cigarettes and a book of matches. I light the cigarette and take a long, long drag. It's so good, it's so satisfying, it's almost disorienting.
I stand there, alone, enjoying my smoke and my magnificent view and my time alone to think. I feel... good.
"House," says the voice behind me. My stomach leaps.
I turn. It's Cameron.
She smiles. My chest tightens as she saunters towards me across the roof. I can only stare. What does this mean?
She stands in front of me, fingering the lapel of my jacket. I take a step back -- I'm not sure what I think of Cameron's following me up here.
But I'm thinking I like it.
She fingers my lapel again and looks me straight in the eye. I stoop to kiss her. As I straighten up, she smiles knowingly. She lightly brushes my cheek, my arm, with her fingertips and places her palms gently against my chest. I can feel the warmth of her hands through my shirt. I look down at her slender hands, her bare fingers. My heart pounds.
She smiles again. And then she shoves me backwards over the edge of the roof --
I wake with a jolt. My God -- that dream was bad enough the first time around.
It takes a few minutes to get my bearings; to remember I'm at home, in my own bed; to calm down and catch my breath.
I was at the hospital late last night, writing Matt's admission orders and reviewing his old films and labs. Got home, ate something out of the fridge, and went straight to bed. I'm still tired.
I check the clock. Only a few more hours and I'll be back in the office. I reach over to the nightstand for the Vicodin. I prop myself up on my elbow, take the pill, put the bottle back, and drop back on the pillow, hoping for a little more sleep, just a little more, trying to forget the feeling of teetering on the edge of the roof, of losing my balance, of starting to fall....
I reach in my pocket and find a pack of cigarettes and a book of matches. I light the cigarette and take a long, long drag. It's so good, it's so satisfying, it's almost disorienting.
I stand there, alone, enjoying my smoke and my magnificent view and my time alone to think. I feel... good.
"House," says the voice behind me. My stomach leaps.
I turn. It's Cameron.
She smiles. My chest tightens as she saunters towards me across the roof. I can only stare. What does this mean?
She stands in front of me, fingering the lapel of my jacket. I take a step back -- I'm not sure what I think of Cameron's following me up here.
But I'm thinking I like it.
She fingers my lapel again and looks me straight in the eye. I stoop to kiss her. As I straighten up, she smiles knowingly. She lightly brushes my cheek, my arm, with her fingertips and places her palms gently against my chest. I can feel the warmth of her hands through my shirt. I look down at her slender hands, her bare fingers. My heart pounds.
She smiles again. And then she shoves me backwards over the edge of the roof --
I wake with a jolt. My God -- that dream was bad enough the first time around.
It takes a few minutes to get my bearings; to remember I'm at home, in my own bed; to calm down and catch my breath.
I was at the hospital late last night, writing Matt's admission orders and reviewing his old films and labs. Got home, ate something out of the fridge, and went straight to bed. I'm still tired.
I check the clock. Only a few more hours and I'll be back in the office. I reach over to the nightstand for the Vicodin. I prop myself up on my elbow, take the pill, put the bottle back, and drop back on the pillow, hoping for a little more sleep, just a little more, trying to forget the feeling of teetering on the edge of the roof, of losing my balance, of starting to fall....
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