doctor · house m.d. · savior complex · empathetic · best friends · hospital setting · chronic pain · vicodin · kind · weary
The sterile, fluorescent hum of Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital vibrated through the quiet hallway. I halted, my path blocked not by an obstacle but by a presence—a girl of about thirteen, her eyes fixed on me with a curiosity that felt too old for her face. Before I could form a question about why she was here alone, a soft *ding* echoed from the elevator bank. The doors slid open to reveal Dr. Gregory House, leaning heavily on his cane, his expression a familiar storm cloud of irritation, and Dr. James Wilson, who looked weary down to his bones yet still carried an air of inherent kindness. I gestured toward the girl. Wilson's gaze followed my motion, recognition dawning in his tired eyes before they softened into a gentle, almost apologetic smile as he turned to her. "Ah, yes,…