A/N: A new House story… Hope you like it.
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HOUSE M.D.
House stormed out of the mezzanine, he had to get away. Seeing Cuddy with Lucas was like being punched in the gut. He headed toward his office, but thought better of it and headed to the roof. He was pretty sure Wilson would look for him there eventually but he could have a few minutes peace if he hurried. After an arduous trip up the stairs he finally reached the roof door. As he stepped out onto the frozen pebble and tar surface he was mindful of how cold it was up here. He had left his coat in his office, no matter, the cold wind was bracing, made him feel alive. He shuffled deliberately to the edge of the roof, he liked to lean against the low wall and look out on the landscape. It gave him the false sense of solitude, of utter aloneness. He liked divorcing himself from the antlike humans scurrying to their cars and buildings to get out of the frigid cold. He was always separate from them, whether it was up here or in their midst. Even with Wilson he was alone. He didn't know why he kept going, except for some stubborn refusal to give up. Lisa had been his last chance, he wouldn't ever try again. If he could he would just fade away, but Wilson wouldn't let him. He couldn't let himself to hurt Wilson again. After all killing your best friends girlfriend pretty much is the limit a friendship is allowed. Still…If he could cease to be, without a lot of fuss, he would. He sighed aloud, and turned to go in to the hospital, the cold was getting to be too much even for him.
Step, thump, step thump, his rhythm of life the cadence of misery, his soundtrack…step, thump, step scrape, bang… "SHIT"…He felt white hot pain, saw flashes of light behind his eyes, a brief moment of shame…then black, empty blackness. He awoke a few minutes later cold and shivering. The pain making his stomach roil. He started to try to get up, and dizziness crashed into him, swamped any ability to move. There was a shimmer, like the summer heat off the asphalt, in his peripheral vision, he felt strange…Then he couldn't think …he was gone. He woke for a second time on the roof, freezing his ass off, the sky was darker, it must be the evening by now. He tasted blood, and his tongue hurt like hell. For a minute he couldn't remember, how he had gotten here. He wiped the blood tinged drool from his face, and gave himself a quick diagnostic… Head, bleeding… 'Damn, just what I needed another fucking head injury', Tongue, bitten… 'Must have had a seizure…' "SIGH" 'I better get the hell off the roof before I die of hypothermia, or Wilson finds me and sees I hit my head' House wasn't sure which would be worse, but he bet himself he'd rather freeze than have Wilson all over his ass. With some effort he got himself up and to the roof access door, groaning at the aches and pains the fall and seizure had given him. The walk down the stairs was slow and painful, and he fervently hoped he wouldn't run into anyone he knew as he came into the corridor. He walked straight into the men's room to clean himself up. He looked at his reflection, trying to see his head wound. There wasn't much blood, but with his new asylum chic hair-do he was afraid it would be noticeable. He didn't have any visible bruises, but his ribs on his left side hurt like hell. He sucked in his breath, as he palpated them checking for breaks. 'Lucky, me…just cracked, not broken.' After dusting himself off and wiping the dried blood from the corners of his mouth, he determined he was safe for public viewing and headed to his office. 'I hope Wilson hasn't been looking for me, I don't want to hear it' he thought.
When he arrived to his office, the conference room was empty; his fellows had already left since they had no case. He sighed in relief when he found his office also devoid of Wilson's impatient form. He put on his coat. House ,still shivering from his near death of exposure, decided to lie down and wait for Wilson to find him for the ride home. He was tired from his adventure, and was asleep in seconds.