Trust//House M.D. Fanfiction

Twelve: Old Friends

Hannah's footsteps echoed as she walked down a long white hallway, doors lining the walls in various shapes and sizes. Her brown hair was down now, as it had previously been up in a ponytail while she was having her surgery done. The only color to be seen was that of her hospital gown, the smooth but unflattering fabric brushing and swaying against her legs with every step. Was this what it was like to die?

Up ahead, Hannah saw large, white double doors. As she neared, she saw the plaque mounted above to doors: Memories. She pushed one of the doors open and the setting changed a bit. Rather than a long hallway going directly in front of her, the doors were placed left to right. Above each was another plaque, all with a name. Much to Hannah's surprise, the plaque above the door directly in front of her read James Wilson.

Intrigued already, Hannah opened the door. It was another hallway, just like the first one. Of course, the very first door on her left was slightly ajar. She approached and peeked in. It was a bar; one she recalled well, now that she was finally seeing it again. The one time she'd gone to that bar, and of course she'd run into the man who'd be there for the rest of her life. Suddenly, it was like her body was pushed into the memory: she witnessed everything over again.

Hannah walked into the building and sat down at the bar, flashing her ID before ordering a beer - she didn't care which. She looked around and spied a young, melancholy looking man. He couldn't have been older than Hannah herself. It was only six in the evening, and Hannah had heard most people didn't come until ten. How odd.

She moved a seat closer to him. "Hey, what're you doing here so early?" she asked, trying to sound approachable and non-threatening. The man glanced up at her then stared back down into his quarter-full glass.

"I could ask you the same thing." So he was avoiding the question.

Hannah sighed. "If it intrigues you that much, I'm here before the creeps come. Tiny young thing like me? I could get hurt." Hannah paused when the man turned away. "But you've been hurt too," she realized aloud. "Recently, I suppose?"

She had little to no hope the man would reply, but he downed the rest of his drink and nodded, still not meeting her eyes. "Not yet, I guess. Just... doubting my marriage."

"Ah, the old 'opening-up-to-strangers-because-there's-no-way-they-know-you' tact, very clever," Hannah leaned back as the bartender handed her her drink. "I know the feeling. I mean, not the marriage bit, but you get what I mean, right?" The man nodded before speaking again.

"I know I'm young - probably too young to even be married - but I was so... so sure about it," he said, then ordered another glass. He was going to be drunk in an hour at this rate. Hannah sighed and nodded, taking a swig of her beer nonchalantly.

It was silent for another moment, and they both finished their drinks around the same time. "Well, not that it matters, but I'm Hannah Christie," she introduced, holding out a hand for him to shake. He didn't. Hannah had just stood up to leave when he spoke.

"James Wilson," he said over his shoulder at her. Hannah nodded before turning around fully and leaving the building.

Hannah smiled as she stepped away from the door and closed it. Across from it, another door opened. She knew the events of the second door took place barely three hours after the events of the first.

She didn't bother taking a peak. Instead, she took the door by the handle and pulled it wide open.

Hannah opened the door, and was confused when she saw the man from the bar. "Listen, I don't normally do this sort of thing, but I saw your add and-" she cut him off.