Author's Note: My friend Sangerin, who knows all, tells me that a drabble is exactly 100 words, not including the title. This is an attenpt to write to that bloody small word limit.
He misses the light, its clarity and power.
With the light came the heat, warmth that sank into his bones and melted their marrow.
He misses being in a place where his accent isn't thought strange or funny or, God help him, cute. Where everyone sounds roughly like him.
He misses his home.
But then there are the times when House looks at him, really sees him, not as a minion, not as a duckling, not as the least interesting, least liked of the three, but him, Robert Chase.
And nothing, no light, no warmth, no home, compares to that.