misanthrope_md | House meets Dream

House didn't generally bother with climbing the treehouse stairs often, but he had half of a very tasty boar BLT that was about to go to waste and thought he'd offer it to Jack, or Chase, or hell, even the Doctor if he was feeling magnanimous. However, he wasn't expecting to see an unfamiliar man coming out of Jack's room, straightening his clothes.

House froze at the top of the stairs, and the guy walked towards him. It was very, very rare that House had to look up at someone. The man stopped. "Are you going to let me pass, Dr. House?"

House regarded him suspiciously. "Do I know you?" Or was Jack telling his lovers to watch out for the man with the cane now? He looked at Jack's door, feeling a little sick.

"No," the man said.

"But you know Jack."

"Yes."

"Well don't feel special," House snapped. "That's become a revolving door, you know."

The man frowned. "I assume you mean no disrespect," he said, his voice low with warning. And somehow House found him more frightening than anyone else he'd met around here. Except for maybe when Death had nearly slit his throat.

House said nothing, but stepped to the side of the stairs.

The man still looked wary, and as he passed, he said softly, "I do know you, Greg House. Where do you think little boys go when their daddies hit them? To my Realm."

House's stomach twisted violently, but the man was down the stairs before he could say anything else. House knew. Somehow, he knew.

The last thing he wanted to do was see Jack after that, so he waited a moment before walking back down the stairs and tossing the sandwich into the waste bin. Then he went into his room and tried not to think. And tried even harder not to fall asleep.