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Three
by Sokerchick
Three.
Not such a big number, one, two, three. Even preschoolers can count that high.
Three never felt so insurmountable. Three steps from his office chair to comfy yellow chair in the corner of his office. Three hours until the end of the day. Three days until the end of this hellish week. In three days he would be free of the clinic for a month.
He shut his eyes hoping to keep the pain at bay but Chase stuck his head in with new results on the kid. Kyle? Keith? Kent? Whatever. The kid was getting worse and that was what he needed to focus on. If only he could reach the book on his desk. Steeling himself for the task he pushed himself up onto his feet.
Three steps there. Three steps back.
He sunk into the chair with a sigh and lifted his leg up onto the ottoman. Then he begins to flip through the pages looking for something that would fit the symptoms.
Wilson poked his head in. "House, time to go."
"You came here to take me home? Won't the little bald people miss you?"
"I think they'll be fine."
Twenty minutes later Wilson had successfully parallel parked on his street and he stood just in front of his door.
Three. Three fucking steps. Maybe he could sleep on the sidewalk, anything to avoid those three steps. But then Wilson had bounded up them and opened the door. A challenge.
He grimaced and started up the stairs.
Three more days.
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of NBC/Universal, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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