Dear Miss Cynthia

Just a tad bit niche

[dearestcynthiaw]

I was wondering if there is chapter 3 to goodbye stranger? 🥹 If there is can I get tagged please🥹🥹

Yes there is! It's still being written and a majority of the next chapter has been done. Sorry that it's taking so long. I will tag you when I post it ☺️

[dearestcynthiaw]

If you're a fan of Jeeves and Wooster I've done a couple paintings of BWW! Here he is enjoying a day at Royal Ascot (1932!)

[dearestcynthiaw]

Goodbye Stranger - House M.D x Reader

Chapter Two: Who Are You?

Source A: Photograph, with missing piece, and handwritten message: 'Spring 1928 - Trip to London' no other inscriptions.

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Hello again!

Sorry for the long wait, this chapter might be a little dodgy writing wise, but I'm hoping it'll sound ok.

I just wanted to add that themes might get a bit heavier from here, but I'm still unsure. I'll let you know if any trigger warnings come up.

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Chapter One: World Weary

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TW: Mentions of blood, death, cigarettes and alcohol. (Sounds like a underground band name)

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In truth, House thought about this peculiar encounter for the rest of the day. He never once closed the Wikipedia tab on this mysterious, yet apparent English Rose. He'd found himself opening it frequently and scrolling to the bottom of endless pages to really see how far this woman would go with her 'fantasy'.

Due to this anomaly in his usual work day, he found it challenging to engage with his current case, often sitting in his office and pondering in the silence. His eyes glued to the door she had disappeared through hours earlier. Would she ever come back? She had been such a fascinating specimen, he just wanted to know exactly what was going on in her head. He thought about the endless illnesses that could have caused this odd phenomenon, ones that would cause hysteria or an overactive imagination.

Was she here to fool him into a prescription? Was she living out a long time wish to live the life of someone with great lineage and aristocratic fortune? Did she want to live in the romanticised perception of the past? It was all a colossal enigma that he wanted to unearth and tease out of the woman.

To him, the current case was a bore compared to what had transpired earlier that day. It sounded like a harsh flu, but not one that he’d ever seen. They’d isolated the patient and kept up with questions, which the man was reluctant to answer. With House acting distant, the diagnosis seemed far out of reach. House thought of giving up at one point, letting his team of three figure it out for themselves. That was until they found the man’s ankles were swollen.

At this point, due to House’s lack of interest, the whole procedure was moving at a snail’s pace. The case was getting increasingly worse and House’s team decided the patient would need to be scheduled for an X-Ray of the chest, checking the lungs for fluid and the heart for implications. 

The conclusion was the possibility of heart failure, yet they were still unsure of how it got to this point. 

The end of the day was nigh. Still after plenty of pestering, House rebuffed the idea of at least looking at the patient through the glass. The idea of this patient dying seemed to have no effect on him, maybe deep down it did, but he appeared oblivious or distracted.

It was late when he got back to his car. The rain was heavily pattering on the roof of the multistory car park. It was loud, but that never detached him from his buzzing thoughts.

Dr Wilson, his friend (you’d like to think) and colleague, caught him just before he left, knocking sternly on his driver's side window, which House reluctantly opened. Wilson’s eyebrows were knitted and his mouth was pulled into a straight line 'What's gotten into you? I’m made to believe this is a one-of-a-kind case, not even you can figure it out.’ 

House only huffed at this, rolling up the window. Again there was a torrent of knocks. 

‘What? I’m late to a date with one of the hottest chicks in town.’ 

‘Don’t mess about, this is a life or death House. Why are you not interested?’ Wilson spoke, his voice sprinkled with concern.

In return, House revved his engine ‘No time to talk, probably won’t see you tomorrow, I doubt I'll be able to walk with all the fun I’ll be up to tonight. Bye.’ With that he flew out of his space, leaving Wilson in the dust. 

Rain drops danced on his windows as he bolted down the bustling roads. The street lights and headlights of other cars painted his window screen with an array of vivid colours. The music on his radio hummed in the background along with the rattling of the wheels on the dodgy tarmac. 

He was eventually stopped at a set of traffic lights, watching people trudge through the rain as he sat snugly in his warm car. 

Amongst the hoard of busybodies was a young lady, one with a look of discomfort and panic. She was instantly recognisable, yet her togs were soggy and discoloured with the spatters of rain. Her hair was heavy with water and had lost its neat, waved styling. 

He watched intensely as a singular man approached her, touching her shoulder, causing her to jump back in fright. 

The lights flicked to orange and he was about ready to move on, when she was pushed up against the wall unbeknown to those around her. 

He moved on through the green light. He thought nothing of this interaction, knowing someone else would interfere. 

He was part way down the road when without thinking he flicked on his right indicator, stopping in a lay-by, hopping out in haste with his hand roughly gripping his cane. 

Bracing against the frigid rain, he splashed through puddles approaching the pair.

He was close now, and could see how dangerous this situation was. The man was grabbing at her with his filthy hands, his face was close and his voice low.

House put his cane between the two causing an instant reaction from the unknown male. 

‘Whatcha think you’re doing, cripple?’ The male hollered. 

He attempted to push the stranger away, making sure to keep distance in case he decided to lash out, which his body language suggested.

House’s mind was sharp thinking ‘This woman has a disease that’s contagious through touch. She’s an escapee and has been on the run for the past 2 days. You’ve probably contracted it by being in close proximity.’ 

The man seemed to instantaneously spring backwards ‘How come you’re fine?’ his face scrunched up.

‘Inoculation, dummies don’t have access to it. Now move on, nothing to see here.’ and with that the frowzy man scurried away. The appearance of his walking aid would’ve probably been enough to strike fear in the stranger, but the spontaneous story-telling seemed to bring the alarming interaction to a close.

House moved away as well, pacing back to his car.

She hesitated before shouting after him, forgetting about nearby eavesdroppers ‘Why did you help me? I thought you said I was mad and should be locked away.’ 

‘Doesn’t matter, you coming or you just gonna stand there staring at my back?’ House turned back to look at her, water running down his face.

He finally got a closer look at her when they were back in the comfort of his car. She was soaked to the bone, dripping on the fabric seats. Black could be seen about her red, puffy eyes where her cake mascara had smudged. Her hair was tousled and unkept. She was quite a pitiful sight to behold. 

There was an uncomfortable silence before the engine was started up. House was hesitating. 

Again the music could only be heard faintly in the background, not even a single breath. 

‘I’ve seen a lot. New things, that is.’ She attempted to start a conversation, hoping that after this frightful evening he would see some sense in what she had said previously that day.

He ignored her.

‘I’ve got a car at home.’ She muttered under her breath, she was speaking to herself more than him. She was partly facing away, looking out the window as the streets flew by.

He turned the radio up to drown out her rambling. He would much rather be glued to the thumping music and the overactive thoughts building in his mind. He detested the notion of making awkward conversation with a lady he did not wholly trust.

The music was blaring now, the bass rattling the plastic interior of the car.

As she listened intently, she heard a new plethora of instruments that was very unlike what she was used to. She didn’t know what to concentrate on, she couldn’t tell anything apart. Every instrument seemed to drown each other out.

Her eyes were wide from the boisterous sound but she happily sat tapping her fingers on her lap to the rhythm. She could only pick out one phrase from the lyrics; 

“Who are you?’’.

Who was she? That really was the truth. The song just exaggerated that query. 

House finally let a question sit in the noisy atmosphere ‘You like The Who?’. 

‘Who?’ She turned to him.

‘Very funny.’ The conversation was quick, short and littered with sarcasm.

The song had a bit of a quieter section but jumped straight back into the chaos. It made her jump slightly with the suddenness of it all, consequently causing House to humph with a singular hissing laugh.

Again, there was a gap of silence and a sort of sizzling, filmy sound that rang out from the central system in the car. The bulky set of technology to her left disposed of a silver, holographic disk and she looked at it curiously. 

Panicked, she asked ‘Did I break something?’.

In a quick movement, he flicked open a compartment in front of her knees ‘Pick one, and replace it.’

She tentatively did so, taking the plastic cases from the glove box and splaying them out on her lap, looking at the different images. She seemed to figure it out, it was much like the vinyls she was used to, but in a different format. She gently replaced the circular disk safely into its matching case. Opening another dark coloured case with a man and a blonde woman displayed on the front, she placed the disk where the other had originally come from. As it slid from her fingers into the machine, her eyebrows furrowed in awe.The new song flicked on after a couple seconds of whirring. 

‘Top Gun? Really?’ 

‘I didn’t know what to pick, I’ve never seen any of these before. It's the only one I could see with the musicians on the front.’ 

‘They’re not the musicians, it's a film soundtrack, Marty. Maverick and Charlie? Have you not watched the movie?’ He used that odd nickname ‘Marty’ again amongst his rambling.

She sighed, looking down at her lap at the remaining disk holders. She brought one close to her face as the darkness obstructed the image. ‘You listen to King Oliver? Are you a fan of Jazz?’ she perceived his seated figure at the wheel. She was delighted that this music was still being heard. If she could relate to him with music then it might make the atmosphere more comfortable. 

Irked by her continued persistence on making conversation, House stared back at her. ‘What? Are you going to tell me that you were there when they came out?’  

He was still fighting conversation. 

Feeling knocked back she spoke quietly again ‘I’m only curious, that’s all.’.

Her thoughts consumed her that when House had parked and was now exiting the car, she was too slow to realise. They were before an unfamiliar single-story building, he was bugging her to leave the passenger seat. 

He ushered her towards the front door, both traipsing on damp gravel, water still continuing to cling to their raiments. 

Hesitating, she stood by the entrance ‘Are you coming in or are you just going to stand there and freeze?’. She was already cold, she had barely had time to dry and was finding it hard to conceal her shivers. 

It had been a rough looking public house, she had no longer been pleased when seeing its interior. Truthfully, she was glad to no longer be stuck on the streets but this brought no hope as to what House had in mind for her. She pined for her home, at this point it seemed ever so far out of reach. The panic was devouring her insides as she walked with him to the long stretch of bar. 

She still had her bag of small belongings clasped to her side; a small pocket watch, a delicately painted case of cigarettes, a metal lighter, a compact mirror, a gold tube of lipstick and a small amount of notes and coins. It was a pure set of luck that it hadn’t been snatched out of her clutches whilst she helplessly wandered the streets.

House had already placed an order whilst she lingered a distance back from him. He’d downed a couple doubles and was waiting for his glass to be topped up.

The bartender seemed to look at her in inquiry, she felt pressured to place an order too.

‘Cognac, a little soda, please.’ Giving a small smile as she felt relieved to finally have a drink. 

‘You think we do that here, sweetheart?’ The man seemed amused by her request.

She felt embarrassed, flushing a rosé shade on the cheeks ‘Just brandy then.’ She spoke as she placed a few shillings on the counter. 

‘We don’t take whatever those are.’ 

House surely thought she was a fool at this point, he pressed his glass to his lip and gave a sharp snicker. Every aspect of her life had to be littered with old-timey things. He thought; she was quite committed to leading this lifestyle and neglecting the reality of today’s society. She proceeded to sit beside him after the interaction with the bartender, who went to tend to another customer. Demoralised, she let out a shaky sigh, elbows on the bar and right hand over her eyes. She felt like crying, but was certain that the doctor would degrade her for it. 

‘So what’s your real name then?’ House questioned after a lengthy couple of minutes, again grabbing the attention of the bartender to fill up his glass.

In a huff she pulled out a little red cloth-bound book from her purse and pushed it in front of him. ‘That’s my driving licence, have a look at it yourself.’ He opened it in a blasé manner, finding the same name she’d given when they met, written in neat looped writing. Alongside her name were the start and expiry dates for her driving permit that conveniently matched up with her story. 

‘That’s all I've got in terms of identification. That’s it, that is my name. If you can’t believe me after this then I don’t know what will convince you.’

He continued to study it ‘This is a good forgery, looks authentic.’. 

She didn’t know why she hung around, but she felt that he might be her only chance when it came to getting home. She opened her cigarette case, placing one at her lip, flicking open her lighter and taking a deep exhale. 

‘Better put that out before you get caught.’ He said in a snarky voice with a face to match when she chose to ignore him. 

With that final comment she left her seat marching outside, gasper still between her fingers. House trailed behind her to the overhead roof outside where she continued to take drags. He didn’t want to lose sight of her, not again, he was far from finishing his investigation.

Snapping she snarled ‘What is it? What is it that you want? You’re following me yet you refuse to help me. You don’t even believe me, not even my name! I’m beyond it all, I just- I just - want to get back home, yet you ridicule and tease me to no end! What is it ‘Dr’ House? What do you want me to say? That I’m faking all of this, then fine have it your way, I am. Are you finally satisfied?!. 

There was a second of silent acrimony before she finally stated; ‘I’m going back to the hospital’. She stubbed the cigarette butt beneath her heel, beginning to move.

Suddenly, a pair of headlights blinked at them. They both stood still like a pair of stunned deer in the beam. ‘House!’ came a shout.

House squinted and called back ‘Can’t you see I’m with a babe?’.

She was too stunned to react to his crude joke. 

‘She looks wet, House.’ The voice came closer, it sounded sympathetic.

‘I’m sure she is, from the sight of me.’ 

Gritting her teeth she sneered ‘For goodness sake!’ Crossing her arms for warmth and setting foot back into the intense rain, she began to trudge through the drenched car park. She stood by what she said, she was going to find her way back. 

She walked as far as the side of the car who’s headlights had previously blinded them.

‘She looks distressed, Are you going to stop her? You can’t let her go back in the rain, the hospital is miles from here.’ The man came into view, appearing to her right. She flinched backwards as he tried to rest an assuring hand on her arm. His face was scrunched and his eyes were squinting from battling the downpour. 

‘Just hold on a second, I’ll take you there- House- Jesus Christ, we need to get out of this rain-’ This new man managed to convince her to step back under cover, she still kept her distance from the both of them, arms defensively crossed over her chest.

‘I was trying to find you, and I found you at a bar? You need to take this seriously, your patient went into cardiac arrest, we were trying to get a hold of you but you weren’t answering your phone.’

Looking unbothered, House shot back ‘Is he stable?’ 

‘Yes but-’ 

‘Well it's fine then, let me get on with my night.’ 

You could hear a very heavy sigh from the other man as he pinched the bridge of his nose, ready to speak again.

She finally let her quiet fury go ‘You let this man deal with patients? He couldn’t be the slightest bit interested in a man that is actively dying. He can’t honestly be a doctor, he's such an ass!’ 

‘Hey! That's not very nice to say to your prince charming!’ his eyes flew wide, pulling a mock frown, his words were a little slurred.

‘Well, I’m not wrong, you’re being a complete and utter cad!’

House gasped, looking defensively at the other man shrugging his shoulders ‘I don’t know what she's on about Wilson.’.

That was his name, Wilson. Was that a first or last name? She was yet to know.

‘Can we stop fighting like children? You, House, are going home and you’re going to take the case-file with you. Get in the car.’ Wilson paused to look at the lady, taking in her peculiar outfit. He didn’t know whether it would be dubious to ask her the same, especially with how distraught her manner appeared.

‘Whaaat? Are you calling off my playdate?!’  House whined. ‘I can drive myself, you know.’ He added in a flat tone.

‘The man behind the bar has his keys, I saw him take them earlier.’ She muttered in earshot of the man named ‘Wilson’.

There was a stern ‘In!’ from Wilson before House gave in; ‘Fine fine, Jesus, you really know how to be a stick in my ass!’ 

She remained hesitant as this gentleman, Wilson, opened the back door for her, ushering her in. She really had no other choice at this point, afterall, she had nowhere else to go. 

Wilson turned back to look at her when he had finally seated himself in front of the wheel. ‘What do you need to go back to the hospital for? The clinic closed two hours ago...’.

‘Don’t worry about it, any hotel will do, I’ll go in the morning.’ She spoke softly in defeat.

House let slip ‘Don’t know how you’ll do that with no money.’.

A gasp could be heard ‘House! I-I can’t believe you! Were you planning to spend an evening with her and then just dump her?!’ Wilson shouted in a whisper, which was partly inaudible to the lady in the back. ‘You can’t do that! You’ll have to let her atleast crash on your couch until tomorrow.’ 

‘Why can’t you?’ He mumbled back.

‘Because I’m living out of a hotel at the moment, you know it's not possible.’ His voice went lower ‘You got yourself into this, not me!’

House heaved out a sigh, he was too inebriated to protest.

The drive was prolonged by the squabbling going on up front. She let her ears tune out, concentrating on different landmarks passing by her window. She recognized a few from when she had been roaming earlier that day; The laundromat where a woman stopped her for a chat, commenting on how her voice sounded funny and there was the barbers where she had been catcalled whilst trying to ask about the area.These were only a handful of places that were recognizable. She set about situating them on a map in her mind. She had to know her way around before it was too late, knowing that it would become a survival tool when House inevitably left her on her own.

Her eyes were terribly heavy as she peered out of the rain soaked window, her elbow resting on the seal, her chin propped on her hand. She could see her likeness reflected in the pane, it looked pale and exhausted. Although she felt miserable, It was also surprising how comforting this stranger's car was. She should’ve felt on edge not knowing where she was going, but the warmth and humming chatter seemed to lull her into a peaceful state of mind and eventually a light slumber. 

The door was pulled abruptly open, causing her to tumble sideways. ‘You getting out or what?’. She sleepily trailed behind House up a couple of steps towards a green front door. His keys turnt in the lock, this must’ve been where he lived.

She was greeted by an array of objects, all messily placed around the entirety of the apartment. There were dark bookshelves filled with all sorts of oddities, some of which were recognisable like lozenge bottles, anatomical figurines and the odd syringe that she would see used in her hospitals at home. They were being used like decorational items, which she found quite curious.

Amongst it all was a grand piano, one possibly made from a rich wood, it was the only surface completely clear. 

House limped through the apartment leaving her standing stunned in the entryway, Wilson was behind her, moving to her left to follow the doctor. She’d only seen him in low light, now realising how much more smartly clad he was in comparison to House. He looked and acted more like a man bearing the title of ‘doctor’. He seemed genuinely kind, but after House’s reaction, she didn’t want anyone else caught up in the mess she had gotten herself into. They were still having their previous conversation, she could hear their muffled voices from the other room.

Her heels clicked faintly on the hardwood floor, following the two into what looked like a kitchen. House was propped against a cabinet with a vile of tablets clutched in his hand. He tipped a couple into his palm, tipping his head back to swallow them. He glanced to his side, his steel blue eyes fixing on her figure awkwardly standing just outside the kitchen. 

‘I’m going to get her a towel or something, at least offer her a glass of water instead of staring at her.’ Wilson was prodding House to accommodate his guest. Wilson promptly made his way out of the kitchen space, making sure to keep his distance and disappearing down a corridor, leaving them both alone.

House appeared disapproving as he continued to study her, lips curling inwards in thought. 

She looked down at her shoes and spoke at the floor to avoid eye contact ‘I apologise, I didn't get the chance to thank you…’. She spoke softly and with gentle words only to hear a sniff and a heavy swallow in reply.

‘I wasn't being very kind considering you did help me.’ She added.

Pushing past her, in a way that didn’t cause physical contact he announced ‘I'm going to bed, Wilson will show you where everything is. You’re sleeping on the couch-’

He turned on his heel slightly, looking over his shoulder, which caught her attention; ‘Unless you want to join me for some sweet, passionate sex.’ He teased. He couldn't help himself, she thought, he had to pull some rudimentary rubbish to cover his arse whenever she tried to be polite.

Showing a slight grimace, she watched his back as he staggered away. She shifted her weight behind her on the kitchen’s doorway, head positioned upwards regarding the textured plaster on the ceiling. 

There were a couple subdued footsteps before she noticed Doctor Wilson beside her, holding out a rather plush looking towel. 

With a soft ‘thank you’ and a nod, she wrapped it about her person. 

‘I’ve run you a bath as well. House stopped me in the hallway and asked if I could. The bathroom is just down that hallway.’ Pointing his thumb over his shoulder he noted the direction she should take. ‘If that’s everything, I best be getting back. It's getting late.’

Just before he left she spoke up, clearing her throat quietly, ‘Oh uh, thank you for everything-’ was all she could stutter. 

With a prompt nod and a thoughtful smile he slipped through the front door, shutting it firmly behind him. 

It was deathly silent as she slipped through the passageway to the bathroom. She was still studying her surroundings, taking in all of the little nic-nacs, when she stopped by a shelf just outside the bathroom. Huddled amongst the books was a sweet, well-loved teddy. He was only a tiny thing, just bigger than hand. His fur was thoroughly worn, showing darker spots where the threads were visible. His nose was hand stitched and his eyes glimmered in the low light. She turned him over gently in her hands, finding his maker’s mark. He was a Steiff bear, absolutely identical to her own. Hugging him closely to her chest, she felt a wave of comfort fall over her. A kind of comfort that hurts so terribly. 

She let a silent tear slide down her cheek, thinking desperately of home. Her dear companion was where she left it, settled amongst her bedsheets battling the biting cold of her bedroom. He would never know where she had gone. 

The feeling further gnawed at her heart, her chest burnt with grief. She thought of family, how she’d left them behind, without uttering a goodbye. She thought of her friends and her dogs and finally her fiancé. She let her head tilt slightly back, her flushed lips parted, trying to stop the tears from dripping onto the floor, but they only bled down her neck, stinging as they made their path. Looking back at the bear, she pulled him back from her person, giving him a light kiss on his woolly cheek. Tenderly, she seated him back on the shelf and continued on her path. 

She was finally amongst the cold tile of the bathroom. Quietly locking the door behind her, she began to undress, hooking her garments over the showerail above the tub. They might’ve had a chance of drying there. 

She sat on the stool in the corner to unclip her stockings. There, she caught sight of a scrape on her knee where she had taken a fall earlier that day. The adrenaline had been overpowering the pain, only now realising how the crimson blood had seeped into the rayon. Peeling the fabric off the wound she set about washing away some of the blood in the sink, hoping that she could salvage the tattered hosiery. She left them to dry like the rest of her clothing and undergarments.

She felt it was only right to leave on her few pieces of jewellery, knowing her tired state, she would likely misplace them otherwise.

Placing a foot into the sudsy water, the pleasant water enveloped her numb limbs. She led down fully, letting the warmth rush over her, finally ridding herself of the dreadful frigidity that had lingered upon her skin. Allowing her eyes to close, she let out a contented sigh. This small pause, where her body was finally in a relaxed state, brought on small waves of dread. Much like the bath water sloshing about in the porcelain, the top of her stomach was sweeping like waves, twisting and pulling in agony. 

She hunched over, pulling her knees up to her chest as a form of comfort. Her breath grew heavy, the sense of foreboding setting in. Burying her face into the hard bones of her knees, she struggled against her chest wracking with affliction. The pure anguish of the situation hit her, far worse than it had in the hallway. She desperately clung onto her breath not wanting to make a sound, tears smothering the entirety of her face. Her arms were firmly wrapped about her head, her nails digging into the tops of her arms, clinging onto any part of reality that wasn’t being deadened by her continuous fear.

She suffered a disjointed sob, drawing a further deep breath through her teeth. Her body shook with the deeply embedded desolation. 

She hadn’t noticed the figure stood to her right as she continued to sink further into her melancholy, her form violently trembling with mournful weeps. 

There was a masculine, pitiful exhale that filled the claustrophobic space. 

From the sound, she let one bloodshot eye take a peak above her arms, perceiving a blurry staunch figure who was instantly recognisable.

Embarrassment entangled her as she realised how she might’ve appeared. Her voice sounded broken as she whispered a quick apology, drawing her limbs closer to her torso.

He continued with what he was doing, flipping open the mirrored cabinet above the sink.

All she could do was turn her head in the opposite direction to hide her obvious flushed face and tear stained cheeks. She heard his rusting around but was too humiliated to look.

Hearing his footsteps echoing away and the door closing once again, she turned to take a peek. There was a thin blue and white dressing gown led over the edge of the bath, it hadn’t been there before. She took that as a sign to leave the tepid soak, finishing up in the bath, placing on her chemise and French knickers that were mostly dry. It would have to suffice for the night. She assumed this dressing gown was left for her, delicately placing it upon her person and tying it tight.

She padded down the hallway, taking quick,quiet steps to the living room. Anticipating his presence in the sitting room, she felt she would have to turn back and lock herself in the bathroom for the rest of the night. She couldn’t face him again, she felt completely mortified after he’d seen her in that state.

Perching on the chesterfield, making herself somewhat comfortable, she peered down at the coffee table in front of her, her eyes landed on the patient case file that the other doctor had left. Curiosity overtook her, she took a cautionate glance at the space before flipping open the blue folder to take a peak. She had wondered what the two were discussing earlier. 

Her breath caught after taking in the symptoms. It was the usual symptoms of something like influenza, high temperature, fever, sore throat, difficulty breathing and swollen glands in the neck. It was sounding a lot like what her uncle had caught, but how could they not see it was a kind of flu? Was there something else they were missing? There were updated notes too, scrawled in the typical hard-read writing of a doctor. 

It was affecting his heart. 

‘What have I told you about patient confidentiality?’ 

‘It's just some.. Reading..’ Was all she could stutter, she was quite lost for words after jumping out of her skin at his abrupt emergence.

His eyebrows seemed to quirk in amusement ‘Can you not see the amount of books on the shelves around you?’

‘Yes I know, but, Dr Wilson was urging you to read this and you still wouldn’t. I thought I might have a look to see what you were avoiding. Well, I can see why...’ 

‘It's not the flu.’ House stated bluntly.

She sighed at his forthrightness, she was quite familiar with it now. ‘I was just…Starting to see the similarity it had to a relative’s death..’ She couldn't stand looking him in the eyes after her confession, she felt he might just laugh in her face.

His questions were quick and direct yet her willingness to answer was becoming restrained ‘What did they die from?’.

‘Distemper- no, uh? I can’t remember - I don’t like to think about it.’ Her eyes were visibly glazed, her eyes squinting when racking her brain for the given name of the illness.

He pushed further ‘You can’t remember any symptoms?’

Swallowing gravely, she continued ‘Well, they found a grey coating in their throat after they died. The doctor was too late to see it before. Their um.. Heart was weak from birth, so we barely saw symptoms before they passed. But it-it was like your patient…The um, cough and fever..’ 

His eyes seemed to focus on a point in front of him, his pupils constricting. His mind was whirring, connecting dots. 

‘A Pseudomembrane. So it was bacteria?’  

She looked clueless, wanting to shake her head in apprehensive confusion. He went on to pull a small rectangular silver case from his pocket, snapping it open and tapping a couple buttons on it, eventually holding it to his ear.

‘Corynebacterium diphtheriae. Have you checked inside the patient's nose? I think you'll find we're dealing with bacterial disease instead of a virus.’

There was a pause before he interrupted the murmur coming from the other end  ‘-then dose him up on antibiotics and monitor his heart damage. Yes, I know you’ve found it’s myocarditis, so put him on anti-inflammatories and any other pain killers he’ll whine for. He’ll survive.’ Flipping the silver item, supposedly a phone, closed after rambling to the person on the other end, he examined the lady before him. Other than the slight scrunch about his eyes, his visage appeared completely blank. 

Gasping as if he were to speak, he held his tongue to look upon her, further studying her face. He sat on the other end of the settee, lowering himself down slowly, holding his leg as he did so. Making himself comfortable, he placed his cane upon the table in front of them.

‘Who was this relative then?’ His words seemed to strike a nerve. She seemed to render a sorrowful glint in her eyes. ‘Who was it?’ He pressed.

‘My brother, the oldest.’ 

‘You have a brother?’ It wasn’t like he already knew, after reading up on her all day, he just wanted to hear it from her. He cruelly wanted to see if she had rehearsed the entirety of the historical documents he had found on the web, pitilessly trying to trip her up.

She only nodded, she was hesitant to give away any more information on her personal life, but she still stated that she once had four male siblings.

‘I’m sorry.’ Stating it unremorsefully, he still exhibited an unreadable blank expression.

He didn’t remain seated for long, making his way back to the kitchen in his usual slow walk. He returned, after a bit of rusting in the other room, carrying glasses and a bottle of unidentifiable amber alcohol. Pouring about an inches worth into both glasses, he passed one over to the accompanying female who took a reserved sip, brushing her tongue along her lip to identify the taste.

Reaching into her chestnut coloured handbag, she pulled out her ornate cigarette case, opening it to offer one to House who was sprawled out on the sofa.

‘I don’t smoke.’

Pulling an inquisitive grin she spoke ‘If you don’t, then why have an ashtray?’.

‘Decoration?’ His voice dripped with sarcasm.

She chuckled lightly at his comment. He did indeed take a straight, placing it at his lip as she sparked the metal lighter beneath it.

Doing the same for herself, the room became slightly hazy with the wispy smoke.

He appeared content with the taste ‘What are these then?’

‘Fribourg & Treyer, I have them when I'm in London.’ She gave a frolicsome smile ‘I’m not actually allowed to smoke, my father prohibits it.’

He made a humming sound, prompting her to continue. His interest was getting the better of him.

‘He’s a little old-fashioned, doesn’t believe women should smoke, he believes I’m starting to resemble the scandalous city girls. Not very fair considering my brother’s are happily welcomed to, and in his company. I mean one smokes a pipe, one does snuff for Heaven’s sake!’ Lamenting on the disparity of it all, she still displayed an impish grin.

His lips seemed to curl into a sort of smile as she spoke candidly. 

‘What happened to your knee?’ He kept firing questions, one after the other. 

She glanced down, finding the dressing gown was revealing the skin just above her knees. Readjusting the fabric she formed a response; ‘It's just a scrape, there’s nothing special about it. Anyway, are you ever going to stop interrogating me? I mean, you haven’t given me the chance to ask my own questions yet.’ 

‘Looks like you’ve been running, it’s elongated.’

She paused to flick her head away, looking back at him quickly again in discomfort, sharply stubbing out her cigarette.

‘Yes.. But that doesn’t matter.’

Regardless, he persisted ‘Who were you running from?’ 

‘I was just scared, alright?’ She exclaimed, nervously holding an odd smile. 

It was deathly silent between them. The cars on the street outside echoed noisily throughout the front room. 

‘Go on then, what were you going to ask me? No doubt it's going to be about my leg.’ 

She shook her head ‘That’s not for me to ask. I wanted to know what made you want to become a doctor?’.

‘I was greatly and passionately inspired by Patch Adams.’ He sounded dreamy, but she unperceived the underlying sarcasm.

‘I’ve never heard of them before? Did you know them?’

Bursting with an obnoxious laugh, he looked upon her as she rolled her eyes. There was no point trying to get any information out of him, House always found ways to deflect.

Leaning forward he forced himself to stand, hastily swallowing the rest of his nightcap, he began to stagger towards his bedroom. He gave one last comment before departing for good;

‘I know what you did.’ It was ominous. His back was still facing her.

‘I didn’t think you would have it in you to steal.’

-----

I hope you are enjoying it so far! This is going to end up being chock-full of metaphors XD

'Who Are You' - The Who 1978

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Tag list:

@indestructeible @suziek415

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~ I really have enjoyed my stay, but I must be moving on ~

[dearestcynthiaw]

I'm getting the next chapter of Goodbye Stranger completed, it's just taking me a bit of time because of work. Here's a painting I completed about a year ago in the meantime.

I really love painting dogs, these are all fictional and have names: Hugo and Otto (Black Working Cockers), Missy (King Charles Spaniel) and Bramble (Brown Show Cocker) ❤

[dearestcynthiaw]

Goodbye Stranger - House MD x Reader

Chapter one: World Weary

A young, mild woman, of noble decent, comes face to face with an infamous doctor, not just from the other side of the world but seemingly a whole other time. Will he believe her ridiculous, and quite frankly, impossible story? In House's mind, everybody lies, but is that so for this new, mysterious woman.

_________________________________________

This is my first fanfic in a long time, I'm quite new to Tumblr, so hello!

I'm absolutely infatuated with this series at the moment, so I thought I'd do a bit of writing and play with a concept that makes me ponder. This is very very loosely based on a original character that lives rent free in my mind. I've done a chunk of paintings of her so I'll post a few as headers on some of the chapters. The character in this will go nameless, and is intended to be a self-insert for those reading, therefore I've tagged it as a 'x reader'.

I'm not a doctor and I don't work in medicine so lots of this is research and a little help from a friend who is a nurse, so the knowledge in it will be hit or miss.

Anyway, enjoy!

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It had been a long, hot, blissful summer in the year of 1928. Newly September, the days were starting to get shorter and the trees were turning crisp and orange.

It had been quite a bad week, though bad was quite the understatement. Her uncle was on his deathbed. He’d suffered through a long bout of influenza that was seemingly impossible to recover from. She visited as often as she could, hoping that each visit wouldn't be the last. Her heart was heavy from knowing his death would eventually become inevitable. He had always been a man of great prowess and genuine kindness, which was a rarity in her family, and losing him would shatter her.

Moreover, her fiancé was hurried to hospital after a nasty accident at a rugby match. He hadn't been concentrating when running the length of the pitch, he tripped and was ambushed by the collective. His ankle looked horribly out of shape, one could only imagine how many degrees it had rotated. It looked almost entirely backwards. 

Her Fiancé's hospitalisation and her uncle's sickness had caused the worst sleeping patterns. She'd barely had a few hours each night for the past week. As she laid in bed most nights, especially in the early hours of the morning, thoughts and worries flurried through her head. She lay there hoping to God everything would set itself straight.

The exhaustion had impacted every aspect of her day so far, and she had marched up to the central hospital, from her soon to be in-laws townhouse, she felt overwhelmingly drowsy and unsteady. Of course there was no transport to be seen for miles to cut down the walking distance and give her a couple seconds of peace. All servants were out of the house, and it had become increasingly  difficult to hail a taxi. 

She trudged through the bustling streets, avoiding streams of people surging towards her. She had arrived at roughly 13:11 pip-emma, give or take, hoping that her beloved was already awake and breakfasted, to spare the grumpiness.

Awkwardly she stood, though all else were seated, patiently waiting for the nurse to lead the way to her sweet fiance's room.

She had been called with the added 'Lady' positioned at the very beginning of her name. It had caused a slight shudder to run down her spine as the room of plenty turned to look in her direction, eyebrows quirking in curiosity.

She appeared quite out of place in the very centre of London in a hospital bustling with people who were much different to herself.

Although she never minded her title, she much preferred the simple 'miss'. 'Lady' carried too much sophistication and responsibility, the sort associated with cutting ribbons and giving out writing awards at local schools. It felt far beyond her, she’d always felt sort of, under prepared.

Standing there in her professionally ironed clothing and perfectly soft waved hair, being ogled at, made her feel uncomfortably separate from everyone else.

‘Just this way, You’ll find he’s in quite a pleasant mood today, we’ve been able to better control his pain since you’ve last seen him.’ The nurse turned to face the Lady, with a sweet smile as they walked the extensive, dismal hallways. 

The door was ajar, and from the threshold she could see a well lit room, far different to the rest of the hospital. There were bouquets of flowers scattered about, along with ‘Get Well Soon’ cards that were crammed upon the limited surfaces. There were excessive amounts of sweetmeats and sugary treats upon the bed and sideboard. This man had only been admitted the day before and he already received a hefty amount of goods. It wouldn't be long before he had to pack it all up and head home.

 She had been loudly interrupted from her thoughts with a cheerful ‘What-ho sweetheart!’. The nurse was quite right, he was much more sprightly today. 

‘I say, take a seat, this chair or that, you might even be allowed to perch on my bed a while!’ Snorting, he motioned towards a patch on his bed that wasn’t decorated with an array of sweets. 

‘You look quite at home here. Should I be assured that they’re looking after you well?’ Her eyes were glued to his bubbly expression. It was quite surprising for a man who had been writhing about in pain on a muddy pitch the day prior.

‘Quite, quite, very well indeed. Though, I can’t ever seem to get any service here. They’re always ignoring me. I don’t ask that much of them.’

It was almost certain that he did, it could only presume that he wanted to be pandered to and pampered as though he was on the coast of France in some lavish hotel. 

She could only look at him with a sense of pity, she only saw a man who was in a great deal of pain and was pushing through with a gleaming smile.

She found she was at quite a loss for words, sympathising with him wouldn't do as he'd only push himself to show he wasn't entirely helpless. This always put him in a worse state. ‘Do you know when you might be coming home?’ was all she could think of after the momentary silence.

‘Oh yes, yes, it was supposed to be today, but I’ve asked to be held on until tomorrow. Charlie from the club said he’d drive me home.’ 

‘You don’t want me to take you home? I can do it later today when Dobson gets back, he has the key to the shed where my car is-’ Again she applied a bright smile, hoping she could be of help. ‘You’ll only have to wait till 3. It’s really not that long darling.’ 

‘Gosh no, I don’t like it when you drive, makes me feel like a helpless sod.’

Lightly exhaling and nodding she looked down at her hands in her lap.

And again he spoke; ‘You’ll have to bring me a glass of water dearest, I can’t get the attention of anyone at this bloody hospital. And I'm bloody parched!' He seemed to let out a sort of huff; boyishly crossing his arms.

As she stood and started to walk, he shouted after her ‘Oh! And grab a doctor for me too, there’s something I need him to see.’ 

With a sweet smile and a light nod she turned on her heel, heading back for that ominous, dark hallway.

A short way down she found a small cupboard, one with a tap and a couple glasses and other bits and pieces to accommodate patients and guests.

Just before fetching a glass, she lent over and placed her head on the counter, with her arms cradling her head. She let out a long exhale to release some of the stress of the day. The exhaustion was starting to catch up, she could so easily have a quick nap with her head on the cold surface.

Finally gathering the energy to move, she lifted a glass and ran the tap, making sure she didn’t fill the vessel with lukewarm water.

Someone must have closed the door whilst she took her momentary rest, as when she turned she was confronted by the clinical white passageway that was firmly shut. 

With a heavy push she dislodged the door from its threshold and found herself to be completely disoriented. Nothing looked the same. She thought that maybe she had taken a long route to this small cupboard and had simply forgotten the way she came.

She was completely surrounded by shelves upon shelves of supplies. There was only one other door and it was straight ahead. She turned again, wandering back inside the smaller room with the sink, studying her surroundings to see if there was another entrance that she might have overseen. Yet there was nothing. 

She finally settled on advancing towards the opposite door, walking between the sets of shelves that carried an array of different peculiar items that resembled medical arsenal, none of which she had ever seen used before, but yet again, she didn’t spend much time hanging around hospitals to see what new advances were made in the field. 

Just as she reached for the door handle, it began to pull downwards as a force was applied to the opposite side.

Jumping back in surprise and slight panic, feeling as though she had wandered into the wrong part of the building, she had no time to think out a possible explanation before the door was fully open. 

The man that was stood there gave her a wide eyed look, appearing equally as perplexed as herself.

She quickly took in his figure, he was no doubt tall, taller then most of the men that she knew, and was scruffily dressed, she wondered if he might have taken a wrong turn too.

Taking in a quick breath she squeaked; ‘Are you lost too?’

‘No.’ He had a distinctive accent as he bluntly said the singular word. 

‘I’m in your way, sorry, I’ll just-’ She peered to his side noting the direction she was heading. 

‘How did you get in here?’ His eyebrow quirked.

‘Through that door.’ She pointed behind herself, his eyes quickly following her movement. There was nothing there. No door in sight, as though it had never been there to begin with. 

She looked back at him in surprise ‘I could have sworn-’ 

With that he let out a bark of laughter. She felt ever so small and grew red in the face. 

‘I must be tired, but I swear that's where I came from.’

‘No door there sweetheart, never was.’ 

Her mouth formed an ‘o’ shape, yet no sound came out. ‘I better get back to my fiancé.’ 

‘You haven’t answered my question.’ He attempted to stop her proceeding. 

‘Well, I don’t really have much of an answer, because I certainly don’t remember entering through the door you’re standing in.’ 

‘This door was locked, did someone let you in? What you looking for, is it drugs? Could’ve just asked.’ Now she spotted his walking stick, he was leaning onto it, slightly blocking the way so he could continue interrogating her. 

‘How dare you, I wouldn’t do anything like that.’ 

‘They all say that.’ 

‘Can I just get through? I need to take this to my fiancé.’ She raised the glass in her hand.

‘What ward?’ 

‘Somerset Ward.’ Her answers were getting shorter as she became frazzled by the constant questions. 

‘Haven’t heard of that one before.’ 

‘It’s fine, I’ll find my own way.’ 

‘You still haven’t answered my question.’

‘Look, I really haven’t got a clue. Can I go now please?’ She gave a hapless sigh as she was getting to the end of her tether. 

He stepped aside, yet seemed to follow her as she stepped into an unfamiliar hall. It was bright white, almost blinding. It looked like an entry to the hospital, one that she’d never seen before. There were people scattered everywhere, wearing clothing very different from her own. She turned back to look at her interrogator with a look of shock and slight horror. ‘What is this?’

‘A hospital.’ He started to limp away, towards what looked like a reception desk. ‘You coming?’ She could see him leaning over the desk having a bit of a natter with a person sat there. She slowly got closer observing every detail in front of her. The gadgets and do-dads that adorned each desk and clinical colours that decorated the whole room. She'd never seen anything like this before. She must've ended up on the other side of the building, maybe a more experimentative wing compared to the others. 

She stepped closer to what looked like a reception desk, momentarily placing down her glass of water.

‘Name?’ Came a sudden voice that carried a very similar accent to the male that she had encountered in that odd cupboard. She couldn’t quite see, until a lady poked her head out behind a silver sort of implement about the width of a brief case or small luggage holder. 

There, she gave her full name in the presence of this strange man, middle name and all. A pattering sound began, like one you would hear from a typewriter, but without the obnoxious ‘ping’.

‘Dr House!’ This woman bellowed, only now realising that he’d started to wander away. 

‘Can’t find a name on the system.’ 

‘You’re trying to find my records? I’m not a patient here, I’m only visiting. Besides you won’t find it by typing, it’ll be in paper form, I thought that was the same for everyone?'

‘Sorry dear, Dr House told me you’d found your way off the psychiatric ward, your name isn't even on the database.’ This woman behind the desk looked directly into her eyes, showing vague sympathy.

‘You think I’m mad?!’ She cried at the ’doctor’. 

He continued to move away, towards what looked like a metal cladded elevator ‘Would explain the confusion.’ He shouted over the room of, what she could presume were patients waiting to be seen. 

She quickly jammed her arm into the door of the metal contraption before it fully closed. 

‘I am tired, but I’m certainly not out of my mind. I think you're having a joke with this whole thing. Who set you up to this? It’s really not funny. Can you just tell me what part of the hospital I've ended up in and I’ll be on my way.’

Again an amused smirk graced his face ‘You’re in the clinic.’

‘Well I’d gathered that from the sign above my head, but none of this is recognisable. I’ve been to the clinic before but it didn’t look anything like this.’

‘You sure you got the right hospital?’ He seemed so disinterested in giving any useful information.

‘Well yes, I’m in London-’

‘Well there we go, you’d better find your way back onto the crazy people ward, you’ve forgotten what country you're in. Next it’ll be what year from the look of you.’ He glanced down at her dress, to him it looked outdated. 

‘Can you stop that? Tell me seriously now.’ She appeared panicked, worse than she had been previously. She had hit the verge of begging.

With a sigh he gave up on the teasing ‘Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. You happy now?’

‘Princeton, New Jersey?’ Her hands were starting to shake, struggling to keep the elevator door open. She’d only ever seen this place in atlases that she used to flick through in her childhood home’s extensive library.

‘Where else?’

‘No no no no no, this isn't possible.’ She stepped inside quickly before the door slammed shut. Putting her face in her hands and taking shuddering breaths.‘You’re definitely not lying right? This isn’t a joke anymore. It's all very funny, but are you sure this isn’t just an American part of the hospital and you’re just pulling my leg?’ 

The doctor seemed to ignore her and continue to look straight ahead, both hands on his cane.

The door to, what she had now concluded was indeed an elevator, slid open and he stepped out. She hurried after him and as she began to walk beside him he halted, staring directly at the side of her head, fierce enough to burn holes into her skull.

‘You can leave me alone now. I’m not going to help you get a plane ticket or whatever you are pestering me for. Go back to the 1920s or whatever F.Scott Fitzgerald book you think you came out of. If this is some tasteful prostitution then give me a ring later. Goodbye.’ And with that he veered off into a room that was made up of mostly glass panels. 

The door flew shut and finally revealed this man's full name and title ‘GREGORY HOUSE M.D. DEPARTMENT OF DIAGNOSTIC MEDICINE’

Though he seemed to be warning her, she still pushed forth, entering the office space ‘Aren’t doctors supposed to help people?’ She had never been so forthright, if she were back at home she would’ve taken that as a forewarning and scampered off like a scared mouse. 

Dr House was now sitting hunched over at the desk, eyes glued to another one of those abnormal briefcase things that casted a blue tinged light over his face.

‘Are you not listening to me or are you just plain deaf? I said goodbye.’

‘I’m not taking that as the end of the conversation, Dr House.’ Her confidence was building, though it was most likely the adrenaline surging through her veins. She took steps closer to him, peering down at the jumbled items upon his desk. Odds and ends and many stacks of paper were littered about like a white blanket covering the entirety of the desk.

Her eye caught on one document reading today's date in the margain with a completely unrecognisable year. ‘2006’.

Her eyes bulged and her head seemed to be endlessly screaming. There was a fuzzy static sound that ringed in her ears and her breathing became short. Throughout the whizzing of her mind, she remained completely silent and still. 

‘Patient confidentiality, don’t you know.’ He said flipping over the paper she had been gawking at.

‘Two-thousand and six.’ was what she muttered beneath her breath.

‘So you really are that deranged. The whole get up is all part of the act. Are you living out a fantasy or something?’ 

‘It’s 2006? It’s 1928, your document is wrong. I mean this could be a very elaborate joke or is this a film set?’

‘You’ll have to pay me overtime if you keep asking me all these questions. $300 and you’ll get the full package, what d’you say Marty.’

'Are you still insinuating that I am a whore?’ She now began to grit her teeth. ‘And that is not my name-' She was cut off whilst she was reprimanding him.

'I’m the whore here, I’m the one offering my body, Marty. Now, what would that make me? Doc Brown? nah, maybe a generational relative from the future. Really spooky stuff. What have you come to tell me? About my impending death or bad life choices? Because you're a bit late.' Resting his head on his hands he looked up inquisitively. 

'I really don't understand-?' She spoke whilst shaking her head.

''Course you don't ' He pulled his lips thin, eyes widening and shrugging his shoulders. ’You think you're a time traveller and I’m here to tell you to head back down those stairs to where you belong, in the psychiatric ward.’

Her face twisted in disgust as he spoke such cruel, unadulterated words. She could feel the tears in the back of her eyes. No one was going to believe her, she barely even believed it herself.

‘What? Am I supposed to play along? Oops!’ His actions were so animated as he lifted a hand to his mouth.

He picked up what could've been a phone and brought it to his ear chatting with someone on the other end and began typing vigorously.

‘Looks like they'll have to book you in. No records here. Oh, tell you what, let's Google you, see what we can find.’ 

‘Google?’ She rubbed her forehead with worry.

‘What fun, you're still playing along.’ His words carried an underlying bite. ‘Here we go, nice, so you're daddy's an Earl and you live in a big mansion and have lots of money. I'm not surprised that you picked this woman to claim as your identity. It's full of all those fun parts. You've gone the extra mile too, editing a photo of yourself amongst your fictional family, how sweet.’ He turned the screen around and there was a photo of her and her brothers. 

Gasping in shock she spluttered ‘How did you get that?! That’s a private photograph!’ 

‘How did you do it then, Marty? Did you change the whole of this Wiki page to suit you?’ He tutted.

Standing silent in the emptiness of this office was like torture. She bit her tongue to stop the tears and prevent the endless wrath of words she was holding back. ‘How could you be so cruel, Dr House?’ She shook her head. ‘I thought you were going to help me.’ Her words were wavering as she spoke softly. 

He raised his shoulders once again lifting his hands up to display mock confusion ‘What is there to help?’.

And with those last few words she turned, flying out of the room.

----

‘World Weary’ - Noël Coward 1928

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~ It was an early morning yesterday, I was up before the dawn ~