I Moderate (i_moderate) wrote in we_archive, @ 2006-08-02 10:03:00 |
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Entry tags: | gregory house |
i_limp Season 2.
Is it supposed to burn?
That had been the departing question from the Joker. House didn’t know for sure if it was supposed to or not. He hadn’t experienced the initial treatment which had colored the man’s skin. He’d left soon after. Skin grew back and comical history showed that the Joker loved pain. So the burning meant very little to House.
His attention, between the dreary cycles of the clinic, had found its way back to his lame leg. It was throbbing. The pain had doubled since he’d arrived. The humdrum of the clinic provided only so much pills and now he’d graduated. He was taking whole rims of morphine shoots on his way out. One day he’d have to send the mayor a fruit basket because it had all started the day the bodies came in from the gas-line explosion.
But House wasn’t from a ‘verse where people actually bought into air-balloons causing mushroom clouds. House came from a very cynical world. He knew something was being covered up but there was very little he cared to do about it. What would a cripple do? Hop over there and pry? No, he was in far too much pain to just be annoying.
Though, he did like to be annoying.
It was his third shot of morphine right into the leg. His eyes were glazed over like doughnuts at a police conference. Sheets of paper lay astray across his apartment. The never-used dining table had vials of green, blue, orange and pink. Some bubbled.
House slumped back. There was sweat on his brow but he was freezing.
Everything told him that this was the cure. This time. This was it. It had to be.
Is it supposed to burn?
House poured it into a small container and stuck it behind the meatloaf.