Vista (Not) (PG)
Jul. 29th, 2008 11:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deelaundryTitle: Vista (Not)
Author: Dee Laundry
Rating: PG
Words: 894
Summary: Why another fic about what House experienced in "97 Seconds"? Why not?
He'd told the truth, of course, when Wilson had asked him what he'd seen between the blue spark and Wilson's puppy dog expression hovering over him in the ICU.
Sort of.
American Heritage Dictionary, definition 3: "One of no consequence, significance, or interest"
House's experience was of no consequence (as with most things intersecting House's life), no significance (didn't mean a damn thing), and no interest.
Mostly no interest. Not enough to mention, anyway.
***
It's not that he sees anything, really. It's more of an experiencing. One that relates in absolutely no way to anything else in his life, so it's driving him possibly more than slightly mad until the first sign appears.
It's not accompanied by trumpets or angels or naked sexpots (he's only sad about that last part). Just a small plain, boring sign that says:
Great. That's helpful.
The sign disappears, not with an explosion or anything interesting, just gone. Maybe a hint of motion to it, a sense that it... whizzed by. He's puzzling through that when the next sign appears.
You talkin' to me? he thinks, in his best Taxi Driver impression, but there's no response. The sign goes, and this time he perceives the motion differently. It's like --
Well, he'd taken one wife. Happened to be someone else's wife, but c'est la vie.
In a flurry the next sign is gone. He's figured it out, though: he's the one moving past stationary points. He can't feel the movement except in relation to the signs, but that's definitely what's happening.
Wow, Burma Shave signs that tell him exactly what he already knows. Breathtaking.
If he could feel his eyes, he would be rolling them now.
He thinks for a moment that the pauses between signs are getting longer, but they aren't. It's merely boredom setting in.
Oh, wait, now they're getting somewhere. Next sign, next sign, next sign...
Oh, you, son of a --
Yes, funny.
Hilarious.
Has anyone pointed out that there is no "out loud" here?
House sighs. Or would, if he could feel his lungs.
Is this what purgatory is? Being laughed at for a prescribed period of time until you're cattle-chuted up to the clouds or down to the sulfury depths?
Xeroderma pigmentosum? What the hell does have to do with anything?
If it does, can we skip this part the next time I'm here?
***
Nothing. That's what he'd seen. There was absolutely no point talking about it.
Except it'd been driving him crazy for days, wondering why the sign had referred to xeroderma pigmentosum. Didn't refer to any current patient. House hadn't had any contact with their prior patient with XP for months, since that time he was not thinking about, and even if she hadn't come in then (and Chase hadn't solved the case and got punched in the nose for his trouble), House wasn't big on the follow-up care. There were minions or nurses, or somebody, for things like that.
XP.
He wrote the letters on the whiteboard -- thick black lines: straight, straight, straight, curve -– because it helped him to think. Maybe he'd missed something about the XP girl? Besides, of course, the correct diagnosis.
He was contemplating, head in hands, when a few of the horde of candidates walked in.
"Windows XP?" one of them said, because she was obviously an idiot. "Are the computers changing over?"
"Also stands for cross-platform," piped up another one.
The Dark Mormon took a shot with, "Chiro."
"Like, chiropractor?" said the South Asian one with the Jewish name.
Mormon shook his head. "The Greek letters chi and ro. Symbol of Christ."
"That's not it," House interjected.
South Asian Jew Guy shrugged. "Probably House just isn't happy with something we've done."
House looked him up and down. "Of course I'm not happy with what you've done. I'm never going to be happy with what you've done. How do you get that out of XP?"
The guy goggled for a moment. "You didn't do it on purpose?"
On the verge of growling, House demanded, "Tell me what you're talking about."
"It's an emoticon," SAJG said, moving to the board and picking up a marker. "When you're texting or IMing, or whatever." He drew the "XP" again, but turned ninety degrees. "The 'X' is eyes squinched shut, and the 'P' is a tongue sticking out of a mouth. It indicates displeasure or disgust."
Great. Universe sticking its tongue out at Greg House.
Well, it hadn't been the first time, and he was sure it wouldn't be the last.
"You're going to see a lot more displeasure and disgust," he said, "if you guys don't get out of here and do some actual work." They began to troop out, spirits thankfully beaten, and House continued, "Except you, Hadji."
"Oh, man," SAJG replied, his face gaining a stupidly familiar Labrador puppy expression, "I love Jonny Quest."
House sighed. "You can go get me lunch."
"Sure thing," the eager beaver replied, walking out the door with a smile on his face.
House erased the whiteboard and went to steal chocolate from Wilson's bottom drawer.
Author: Dee Laundry
Rating: PG
Words: 894
Summary: Why another fic about what House experienced in "97 Seconds"? Why not?
He'd told the truth, of course, when Wilson had asked him what he'd seen between the blue spark and Wilson's puppy dog expression hovering over him in the ICU.
Sort of.
American Heritage Dictionary, definition 3: "One of no consequence, significance, or interest"
House's experience was of no consequence (as with most things intersecting House's life), no significance (didn't mean a damn thing), and no interest.
Mostly no interest. Not enough to mention, anyway.
***
It's not that he sees anything, really. It's more of an experiencing. One that relates in absolutely no way to anything else in his life, so it's driving him possibly more than slightly mad until the first sign appears.
It's not accompanied by trumpets or angels or naked sexpots (he's only sad about that last part). Just a small plain, boring sign that says:
Hey, Greg House! |
Great. That's helpful.
The sign disappears, not with an explosion or anything interesting, just gone. Maybe a hint of motion to it, a sense that it... whizzed by. He's puzzling through that when the next sign appears.
A lonely man |
You talkin' to me? he thinks, in his best Taxi Driver impression, but there's no response. The sign goes, and this time he perceives the motion differently. It's like --
Never taken a wife |
Well, he'd taken one wife. Happened to be someone else's wife, but c'est la vie.
Wants a glimpse |
In a flurry the next sign is gone. He's figured it out, though: he's the one moving past stationary points. He can't feel the movement except in relation to the signs, but that's definitely what's happening.
Of the afterlife. |
Wow, Burma Shave signs that tell him exactly what he already knows. Breathtaking.
If he could feel his eyes, he would be rolling them now.
A knife in a socket |
He thinks for a moment that the pauses between signs are getting longer, but they aren't. It's merely boredom setting in.
Brings this to see: |
Oh, wait, now they're getting somewhere. Next sign, next sign, next sign...
NO SPOILERS |
Oh, you, son of a --
LOL |
Yes, funny.
LOL |
Hilarious.
LOL |
Has anyone pointed out that there is no "out loud" here?
LOL |
House sighs. Or would, if he could feel his lungs.
LOL |
Is this what purgatory is? Being laughed at for a prescribed period of time until you're cattle-chuted up to the clouds or down to the sulfury depths?
XP |
Xeroderma pigmentosum? What the hell does have to do with anything?
PS. Would it kill you to tell Wilson you love him? |
If it does, can we skip this part the next time I'm here?
***
Nothing. That's what he'd seen. There was absolutely no point talking about it.
Except it'd been driving him crazy for days, wondering why the sign had referred to xeroderma pigmentosum. Didn't refer to any current patient. House hadn't had any contact with their prior patient with XP for months, since that time he was not thinking about, and even if she hadn't come in then (and Chase hadn't solved the case and got punched in the nose for his trouble), House wasn't big on the follow-up care. There were minions or nurses, or somebody, for things like that.
XP.
He wrote the letters on the whiteboard -- thick black lines: straight, straight, straight, curve -– because it helped him to think. Maybe he'd missed something about the XP girl? Besides, of course, the correct diagnosis.
He was contemplating, head in hands, when a few of the horde of candidates walked in.
"Windows XP?" one of them said, because she was obviously an idiot. "Are the computers changing over?"
"Also stands for cross-platform," piped up another one.
The Dark Mormon took a shot with, "Chiro."
"Like, chiropractor?" said the South Asian one with the Jewish name.
Mormon shook his head. "The Greek letters chi and ro. Symbol of Christ."
"That's not it," House interjected.
South Asian Jew Guy shrugged. "Probably House just isn't happy with something we've done."
House looked him up and down. "Of course I'm not happy with what you've done. I'm never going to be happy with what you've done. How do you get that out of XP?"
The guy goggled for a moment. "You didn't do it on purpose?"
On the verge of growling, House demanded, "Tell me what you're talking about."
"It's an emoticon," SAJG said, moving to the board and picking up a marker. "When you're texting or IMing, or whatever." He drew the "XP" again, but turned ninety degrees. "The 'X' is eyes squinched shut, and the 'P' is a tongue sticking out of a mouth. It indicates displeasure or disgust."
Great. Universe sticking its tongue out at Greg House.
Well, it hadn't been the first time, and he was sure it wouldn't be the last.
"You're going to see a lot more displeasure and disgust," he said, "if you guys don't get out of here and do some actual work." They began to troop out, spirits thankfully beaten, and House continued, "Except you, Hadji."
"Oh, man," SAJG replied, his face gaining a stupidly familiar Labrador puppy expression, "I love Jonny Quest."
House sighed. "You can go get me lunch."
"Sure thing," the eager beaver replied, walking out the door with a smile on his face.
House erased the whiteboard and went to steal chocolate from Wilson's bottom drawer.