"You left things hanging with her. You didn't even talk to her before you left."

Wilson was calling. It was their first phone call in a month. His voice was fairly unsteady and shaky, as House spoke calmly, however, with a sense of regret and pain in his voice.

"I left things hanging--for a reason."
"She needs to know why. Why, and what."
"Just--I haven't spoken or seen her in days. The last thing I can do for her right now is have her visit me."
"Just talk to her. She doesn't even need to come. Just call her."
"And what."
"You don't even need to tell her anything. Just let her know, you're okay. I will deal with that-part of the situation."
"No, no, no. You'll end up fluffing it up and make her feel guilty."
"How would I be--?"
"Somehow, you just will. That's what you do."
"I--?"
"Can I go now Jimmy? I've got my special group hour to attend to."
"Huh. Just think, about calling her."
"Yeah, yeah."
"Bye House."
"Bye Wilson."
=================================================


House had already been gone a month. The empty, hollow feeling was still and steady as it rested and ventured through the hospital walls. His room remained empty and untouched since. The only thing to pass would be the gleaming lights of the sun and the moon, alternating back and forth as vast shadows were cast along every wall, every piece of microfiber carpeting, and every furniture, that lay still in that room.
In his outside office, Thirteen, Foreman and Taub all sat, clueless just thinking about what they could do now. As they did so, they all looked into House's inner office, studying the emptiness of it all, and realizing the deadened silence that echoed. Their concentration was interrupted by the bold and fast paced movement of stilettos changing from tile to carpet. Her dark stilettos matched her dark pencil skirt, which matched her dark v-neck, which was relatively close to her cardigan. She slowed as she entered the center of the room.

"I uh. Are. Do you think you guys can handle another case?"

Foreman just gave her a look of half pity and half resentment. She didn't know why, but it seemed to be more towards himself, than her.

"Gimme."

He stood up and she handed the file to him. He sat back down and examined the case carefully as Taub waited for the differential to begin. Thirteen however, was focused on Cuddy. She was about to make one of her, "healing the situation" speeches.

"He's getting treated. And that's what counts."
"That's really the kind of pep talk you were planning to give to us?"

Thirteen was the first to reply. Actually, the only one to.

"For being the Dean of Medicine, your reassurance isn't a comfort. And, frankly we don't need it. We know what our boss is up to and how he's doing, we don't need you to sit by our side and hold our hands while he's gone."
"I'm just doing my job."
"Well, we're trying to do ours. And this whole month you've constantly checked up on us to see how we're doing, when we're doing them and how we're handling things with him gone. You can't babysit us Cuddy. You can do that with House himself, for you have a reason. But, not with us."
"Frankly, I think her obligation is to another someone at the moment."

The soothing tone of Wilson calmed their agitated voices. As he walked in, the doors swung closed, trapping the noise and tension inside.

"I agree. You are needed somewhere else more than here."
"Very, more so than here," Foreman finally added, while keeping his eyes glued to the file. Taub remained silent and Thirteen finally turned her face away from Cuddy. Wilson gestured her to leave with him and they walked out, leaving the team at peace.

"They're right."
"Relatively."
"Very."

They made their way down the quiet corridor back to Wilson's office. When they reached, Wilson took his place behind his desk and Cuddy took a seat much farther, towards his couch, an unusual spot for her. She kept her head bowed, keeping her tangled hair in her face as she twiddled her fingers, messing with her watch, and cracking her knuckles, giving herself something to do, to ignore....everything.

"Have you talked to him yet?"

Wilson just stopped at his desk and rubbed his face a bit. Not out of irritation, or aggravation, but out of sadness.

"Yeah. We talked last night."

The pauses between them were far too long. It was like a conversation, slowly dying into a sad silence.

"You're too quiet. By now, I'd have expected you to give me a speech about why I haven't called him yet."
"I. I myself can't grasp the situation at hand. I'm holding, barely."
"Even so. You still have the urge to give me one."

He looked at her and sighed.

"You're moping around the most because, you feel like you've failed. You feel like you've failed as a boss but more so as a friend. And that factor has kept you guilt ridden for days. Not only guilty but also scared. But moping and being afraid, aren't helping to mend the situation. His relationship with everyone here has broken. It's been cut off. And his relationship with you, has been tampered with. You need to let that break heal, instead of making it worse by mentally pushing him away. And you shouldn't be feeling guilty, or feeding yourself any pity. You should be doing what you know you do best, which would be, helping him through this."
"Sounds about right."

He gave a faint laugh. She had rose her head and stared at him, giving half a smile.

"You need to see him. Or just call at least. Reassure him. But discreetly, so he doesn't feel like he's getting pity from you. Let him know you're here for him."
"I find it hard to even dial the damn phone without breaking down."
"You could just be hormonal. You're not on your period or something are you? You're not pregnant right?"
"No."
"You sure I shouldn't consult with House?"
"At least you have the courage to talk to him."
"And why are you lacking?"
"Our last encounter wasn't our best."
"So what? You aren't even meeting him, the only thing in contact is your voices."
"Even then."
"Imagine how all this is for him. He poured out all his thoughts into one hallucination. He practically confessed his love for you to himself, because he probably didn't even believe it in the first place. He showed himself what he wanted, in a way that lead him to believe that it was true. Then it backfired on himself and he ended up in a psych hospital."

As he was talking, Cuddy has risen from her seat on the couch and moved toward his desk. Her face was confused and slightly upset.

"What?"
"What."
"You never told me. Do you know what he--?"
"Damn it."
"Wilson."
"I know why, he did what he did and--what he--"
///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

House was lying down flat on his bed, on top of the scratchy and unusual sheets that were wrinkled and matted. He threw a penetrating stare at the empty white ceiling above him as he kept his arms folded behind his head. The patient next to him appeared to be asleep, in a very refined position, unlike House who was practically sprawled out over his bed. After several moments, House began to speak to himself in whispers.

"She was there. I was there. There was no possible way I could've hallucinated it all."

He shut his eyes and the images appeared in his mind once again. However, they seemed to be faded. He couldn't grasp every moment that he knew occurred. They all seemed so vivid and so real before, but now, they seemed as images formed in a thick fog, or the swift smoke that would recede out of a cigarette. That's exactly what the images were doing now. They were receding, like smoke, disappearing in thin air. The only image that still appeared vivid was her face, fast asleep, on his arm. It was the only image that he could still distinguish properly. He could see every detail. From how her eyes twitched, how open her mouth was, and how her hair fell upon his forearm. Yes, this he could still remember--despite the fact it wasn't real.

"Her heart, her mind, her body, and her soul were there that night. I felt her, I heard her, I smelled her. She was in my arms and she never let go."
"This must be one heck of a gal you got. Too bad you're locked up in here."

House turned his head: the patient in the next bed had woken up. She remained in the same position as she had slept, but her eyes were wide open. Her blue eyes, very open, and her very short boyish hairstyle auburn hair still and straight.

"You could hear me from here?"
"When you're locked up in the loony bin, you have the tendency to enhance some senses. For me hearin', cause I eavesdrop on every conversation with the nurses n' staff so I know what's goin' on. Whispers, aren't a problem for me."
"Why you here?"
"In your presence, in your room, in this wing, or in this hospital?"
"The fourth one."
"Attempted suicide."
"That's not a reason--"
"Fourteen times."
"Well. You must really love life don't you?"
"Oh yeah."
"So you feel like you don't deserve to live, or you hate how your life played out, so you try to off yourself. Very smart."
"What's your reason for gettin' in here then? You look like a middle-aged druggie."
"Technically that's true, but I--I've been hallucinating, I can't tell what's real and what's not. And I'm addicted to vicodin, but my fellow colleagues slash friends believe my hallucinations have another underlying cause."
"Nice."
"Yeah."
"Does this girl you been talkin' bout' have to do with any of this?"
"She's the colleague slash friend."
"That's interestin'."
"Sure."
"And does she know you talk about her like, well like you did, a few minutes ago?"
"Why does my problem fit your need to know what's going on in everybody's life?"
"Why do you like to isolate yourself, from everyone round' you?"
"You barely know me. You can't say stuff like that yet."
"Oh I know ya. I've seen you walkin' round' here. How you sit lone' in corners. I've also seen you limping. S'that what you takin' the vicodin?"
"I had an infarction in my leg."
"Oh damn."
"Surprised you knew what that is."
"Oh yeah. I went to medical school for a couple years, then I dropped."
"Not the smartest thing to do."

Right then and there, one of the nurses came in, checking to see if they were awake.

"Breakfast guys. Then your meds, you know the deal."

She closed the door fairly quickly, most likely to attend to another patient.

"Never caught you name by the way."
"House. Gregory House. Like the noun."
"Nathan. Jillian Nathan."
"Hope you don't mind, but I refer to my peers by their last name."
"S'ok. I don't mind."
"Didn't think you would."

They finally got out of their beds, made them as they usually would, and left their room to the mess hall where breakfast would be served. They walked down the empty corridor by themselves, conversing as their voices echoed off the walls.

"You seem like a good guy."
"Do I have to say the same?"
"No. Cause I'm trying to make a point."
"Ah."
"I don't get why you're here. I mean, I get your problem, but, still."
"See, when you're a doctor, it's not good to not be able to tell the real from the not."
"Right. Well, seems to be you've got a deep prob going on in you."
"That's what they all say."

They stopped talking for about a minute in time before she broke the silence before they pushed the doors open into the mess hall.

"So, are you gonna tell me more bout' you or what?"