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sick_wilson2007-08-05 06:58 pm
alanwolfmoon.livejournal.com) wrote in sick_wilson2007-08-05 06:58 pm
Entry tags:
was he puking? (ch 3) actually including the story this time
Title: "Was he puking?" (ch 3)
and here's the actual story!
(konks head on desk twenty times)
how do you delete a post?
and here's the actual story!
(konks head on desk twenty times)
how do you delete a post?
“Lunch.” announced House, holding at tray with a sandwich and a glass of milk on it.
A good deal of the milk was slopped onto the tray from House carrying it.
“Chase said you were talking to my patients.”
“Uh, yeah.” said House, briskly and without sarcasm.
“Are you *trying* to torture me, House?”
“No. If I was, I wouldn’t do it this indirectly. It’d take to long.”
“What did you say!?”
“To you or to your patients?”
“My patients!”
“Luuunch.” said House, waving the sandwich under Wilson’s nose.
“House! Stop it! Stop torturing me, stop putting my patients at risk, sto-“
House stuck the sandwich into Wilson’s open mouth.
“Chew, swallow, repeat. Stop when the sandwich is gone. You think you can do that?”
Wilson spit the bite of sandwich out, glaring at House.
“Let me out of here, or I swear I’ll–“
“You’ll what? Cut me off? Like I’m not ready for that. Try and hit me? Oh, yeah, that’ll work great. Especially with the whole getting a mild concussion from tripping over your own underwear because you’re exhausted thing. Give it up. There’s nothing you can do, or threaten to do, that’s going to have any affect on me.”
Wilson glared at House for a moment longer, thinking.
“I’ll tell Cameron about your dad.”
House jerked, spilling the remainder of the milk.
“You wouldn’t.”
“For me, no. for my patients, yes, I would.”
House looked at Wilson, one eyebrow twitching slightly in a very irritated fashion.
“No.” he said, turning around, his voice sounding slightly strangled.
Wilson gaped at him.
“No!? You don’t care if I tell Cameron that–“
“Of course I care! I’d never forgive you if you told her! You know that!”
“Oh, so you think I won’t do it!?”
“No. I know you’ll do it. And I’ll never forgive you. But I’d rather never forgive you for that than never forgive you for seriously hurting yourself.” stated House, his voice oddly calm, as he limped heavily out the door.
Wilson stared after the retreating figure, shocked, and only then registering that House had been holding his cane so tightly that his knuckles were white.
Wilson frowned, and looked at the sandwich.
It was a reuben.
*********************
“House.”
House turned around, looking at Cuddy who was approaching the elevators at high speed.
“House, I know you’re taking Wilson’s duties. I know you’re putting up with talking to his patients. But you’ve been neglecting one part of his duties.”
House looked at her with a pained expression.
“Oh, come on. I’m talking to patients, isn’t that enough for you?”
“It’s enough for me but this hospital does need doctors to staff the clinic. And if Wilson has too make up all the clinic hours you’re forcing him to miss, it’ll tire him right back out again.”
House glared at Cuddy for a moment, then sighed.
“Fine.”
He turned around and limped thought the glass doorway labeled “clinic”
Cuddy blinked after him, astounded that it had been that easy.
***************
“We think she ate a piece of my mother’s cookie jar.”
“Did you not think to clean up said broken cookie jar before your daughter went diving for yummies?”
“Oh, no, it wasn’t broken, it had little gingerbread men glued on the front. She’s only two, we figure she thought they looked like cookies and pulled one off.”
“How long ago did she eat it?”
“Two months.”
****************
“Does aspirin work as a suppository?”
“Couldn’t you have just asked a pharmacy that?”
“Well, yeah, but you see I kinda...uh...already stuck it up there...”
“How much?”
“Well, actually, two bottles.”
“Didn’t they start falling out after a while?”
“Oh, no, I left them in the bottles so that didn’t happen.”
*****************
“I think I hava...”
“Haven’t I seen you before?”
“No.”
“I’ve seen you before.”
“It was *supposed* to be Dr. Wilson...”
“How old are you?”
“Sixty.”
“You said that a year ago. It’s not any more true now than it was then.”
*****************
“Hey, Cuddy!”
“What House? You trying to flee after just two patients?”
“Does repeatedly coming in for std tests count as drug seeking behavior?”
“No, it counts as being a sexually active person prone to worrying.”
“And if you, a seventy-ish female repeatedly come in asking for std tests specifying that you want a male doctor?”
“Uh...ew...”
*********************
“He’s got a pair of tongs and a loupe up his butt hole.”
“Wendy!”
“What? You just want him to guess?”
“No...but...you don’t have to say it out loud...”
“Uh-huh. You wanted to write it down?”
“No, I just meant not all plain and...stuff...”
“As much as I would like to hear this argument, the clinic’s weekly weirdest thing pulled out of an orifice contest is *so* mine if I get them out before five.”
“You’re making a game out of this!”
“Well, what better use do you have for people that stick loupes and tongs up their asses?”
“He’s got a point...”
“Wendy!”
*****************
“She’s got a fever.”
“And...?”
“Um, it’s a high fever?”
“How high?”
“Ninety five, I think.”
“Ok....I’m guessing your wife sent you.”
“Yeah...”
House stuck a thermometer in the girl’s mouth.
“Why did you think you needed to come?”
“Well, my wife said she was jerking, I thought it was probably a bad thing, so I told her she should take her to the doctor. She didn’t want to, so I did.”
House pulled the thermometer out hurriedly as it beeped, looked at it, and then pushed off with his left leg, rolling the stool over to the phone.
“Need some cooling blankets and ice packs in here. One year old with a fever of one oh five. Had at least one seizure already.”
“Lucky you. You actually didn’t kill your daughter.”
“What? It’s that bad?!”
“Jerking plus high fever in a one year old usually means the kid had a seizure from her body temperature being too high.”
“Oh, god, what have I done!”
“Nothing. You saved your kid’s life. Calm down. She’ll be fine.”
“Oh, thank you doctor, thank you.”
House looked down at his name tag, making sure it still read “Dr. Greg House” not “Dr. James Wilson” or “Dr. Allison Cameron”
*********************
“I’ll start with an empty bottle of lube. Vagina of a eighty three year old. No dementia.”
“A crushed lamp shade. Rectum. Twelve year old boy.”
“Rolled up map that caused papercuts. Rectum. Fifty four year old male.”
“Champagne cork. Wide side up. Left nostril. Sixty two year old female. Had an accident at a wedding dinner.”
“Broken off piece of a florescent light tube. Very drunk twenty two year old male. Accompanied by a slightly less drunk twenty one year old male. Not related to each other.”
“Who cares? Anyway, a complete geode. Not intact, just complete. Rectum of a mid forties male truck driver.”
“Dr. House, wake up. It’s your turn.”
“Huh? Oh. Two full bottles of aspirin in a forty or so female. Thought they would work as suppositories. Loupe and a pair of tongs in a mid twenties male accompanied by his girlfriend. Tongs were inserted *before* the loupe. All three out of the rear end. I vote geode.”
“So do I.”
“Well, since I can’t vote for myself, I vote tongs and loupe.”
“Geode.”
“Tongs and loupe.”
“Same.”
“Tongs and loupe.”
“First place goes to...House, wake up. First place goes to Dr. House. Second place goes to nurse Brenda. Third place...we didn’t have any other votes. Revote minus the two winners. House, you vote first before you fall asleep again.”
“Empty lube tube.”
“Same.”
“Yep.”
“I vote lampshade.”
“Empty tube.”
“Empty lube tube wins. Third place goes to the intern that doesn’t have a name tag yet.”
“Alice.”
“Third place goes to Alice. Somebody wake House up again.”
“Dr. House, wake up. Time to go back to work.”
“Oh. Right.”
*******************
“No. I don’t think your kid has paraneoplasitc syndrome.”
“Are you sure? Shouldn’t I talk to a–“
“If you’re going to say diagnostician, then you’re talking to the head of that department. If you’re going to say oncologist, then you’re talking to the guy who’s covering for the head of that department.”
“Oh...but don’t you have to do tests to know for sure?”
“No. If your kid was in the least bit sick, maybe. But he’s not. Bye.”
*********************
House sighed, tiredly looking at his patient.
“No, swallowing his homework is not going to kill your kid. Goodbye.”
“But, wait!”
House shut the door on the lady, not even bothering to make a sarcastic comment.
*****************
“No...pretending to be a cat and licking yourself is not a psychological condition. It’s that fact that your kid is three yea–“
House stopped, shutting his eyes and swallowing.
“Doctor?” asked the woman, blinking.
“Your kid’s fine.” said House, opening his eyes again.
“Oh...thank you...” she said, looking confusedly back at the doctor sitting on the stool as she left.
House slid painfully off the stool and sat down in the corner of the room.
The room was slightly blurred, the floor seeming to be unsteady.
House closed his eyes, shutting out the sensation.
Unfortunately, that left him wide open for the other, much more severe sensation to flood his mind.
Pain and exhaustion flowed through him, bringing shaking and cold sweat with them as they pooled in his chest and back, skittered along his wrists and forearms, sunk into his shoulders, lodged in his neck, stabbed at his head, pounded through his hips, gripped at his ankles and roared, roared so loudly they drowned out everything else, in his thigh.
He swallowed hard, his mouth dry.
It hurt too much to even reach into his pocket and pull out those little white ovals of partial relief.
The door opened, but he didn’t look up.
He was too tired.
Why was that person shaking him?
The hands on his neck tickled.
Then they moved to his face, forcing him to look at the bright light glaring into his eyes.
“House?” said the person.
House thought something about the voice sounded familiar.
Does it matter?
No...just let it go...
“House?” asked the voice again, louder this time.
House finally decided that he should find out what the voice wanted, so that he could go back to trying to force back the pain.
“House?!” asked the voice very loudly this time.
House opened his eyes.
“House? Are you awake?”
Too blurry to identify the face...but light hair...Wilson?...no...couldn’t be Wilson...had to be...Chase?
He said the last one out loud, and the blurry figure sighed with relief.
As Chase stuck his head in the room, all he was thinking was that the lady *had* to chose him to go check on some stupid story about one of the doctors not looking very good.
His irritated train of thought was abruptly derailed as he saw House slumped in a corner, eyes closed, breathing shallow, face as white as the cabinet he was slumped against.
Chase dashed over, shaking his boss.
House didn’t respond.
Chase put his hand’s on House’s neck, checking the pulse.
Very, very fast, but not life threatening.
He lifted House’s eyelids, finding that his pupils responded normally, and that he was conscious.
“House?” he called softly, worried.
House didn’t respond.
“House?” Chase called again, more urgently.
House maybe lolled his head a bit but nothing else.
“House!?” Chase shouted, seriously worried now.
House slowly opened his eyes, looking weakly up at Chase.
“House? Are you awake?” he asked, not sure if House was lucid or not.
“Chase?” he said after a minute.
Chase sighed, relief flooding him.
“What’s up?” he asked, knowing it was a lame question.
House didn’t seem to care, however.
“Leg.” he mumbled so quietly that Chase could barely hear him.
Chase sighed again, and shook his boss’s shoulder.
“House, come on. Pay attention. You’re lying on the floor of an exam room. Is that where you want to be?”
“Everybody...lies...”
“I meant lying as in lying down. As in falling asleep. That kind of lying.”
“Oh...”
House finally seemed to snap out of it a bit, blinking at Chase and looking around.
“What?” he asked, looking slightly confused.
“You sorta half passed out in the middle of seeing a patient. They mentioned it to me, and I decided to check. You were lying here nearly unconscious when I came in.”
“Oh. Damn.”
“You know...”
“Yeah. I know. Meaning you don’t have to comment.”
Chase rolled his eyes.
“House, are you gonna pass out again? Or are you ok now?”
House snorted.
Chase sighed.
“Fine, maybe not ok, but able to get up?”
“I...” House faltered, frowning.
Chase tilted his head, trying to read House’s expression.
“I don’t know. That I don’t know.”
Chase let out a deep breath.
“Ok, well, you want me to leave you here or what?”
It occurred to Chase that, other than being punched by him and pressing on the bullet holes in his side and neck, he had never actually touched House before today.
Foreman opened the door, blinking at the scene inside and holding a patient file.
“Um...what’s going on?”
“He almost passed out while seeing a patient. They noticed and told me.”
Foreman snorted and rolled his eyes, exasperated by his boss’s behavior.
Chase looked back at House, and frowned when he saw that he had closed his eyes again, his head back against the wall.
Foreman’s eyebrows came together, confused.
“He’s not just high, is he?”
“No. I don’t know if he did something or what, but...”
“Right...”
Foreman leaned over, rubbing his knuckles hard over House’s chest.
House’s eyelids opened again, flickering.
“Hey. We’ve got a patient.”
House’s eyes closed again.
Foreman and Chase looked at each other, then called for a nurse.
******************
The ceiling was white.
His ceiling wasn’t white.
“You’re an utter idiot.”
His ceiling didn’t insult him either.
“What?” he asked the ceiling.
“You’re an utter idiot. Didn’t you get it the first time?”
No wonder. The ceiling wasn’t talking.
House blinked and looked to his right.
Wilson was lying there, glaring at him.
“Why do I feel higher than usual?”
“Because you are. You’re on morphine. Lots of it. Because you’re an idiot.”
“Oh. If I’m on lots of morphine, why does my leg hurt so bad?”
“Because you’re a total idiot.”
“That doesn’t make sense. I said my leg hurts, not my brain.”
“Go back to sleep House.”
“You’re the one who should be asleep.”
Wilson sighed at the only partly lucid stubbornness of his friend.
“I’ll sleep if you sleep, ok?”
“If I’m asleep I won’t know if you are.”
“Oh why does he have to be so logical?” thought Wilson, exasperated by his friend’s recent behavior.
“Ok, fine watch me go to sleep then go to sleep yourself. Why are you messing with your morphine? You’re maxed out already.”
“I’m not upping it. I can’t think straight.”
“House, don’t. Your EEG was off the charts.”
“I can’t think straight. I don’t like that. My leg always hurts, I’m used to that. I’m not used to not being able to think straight.”
Wilson sat up, debating whether or not he should stop House.
“You should go to sleep.” stated House, squinting at the iv display.
“So should you.”
“I’m not the one that accidentally injected themself with morphine.”
“No, you’re the one who refused to go home for long enough that their leg caused them to pass out several times before finally getting bad enough that they barely knew what was going on even when they were *awake* and got put on morphine because of it.”
“And you gave yourself a grade two concussion tripping over your undies.”
“While trying to investigate the fact that you had sat down halfway down the hallway.”
“Which meant nothing.”
“Cuddy said you could barely get up after you checked on me.”
“That’s cus I hurried because I thought you’d serio...” House trailed off mid sentence, squeezing his eyes shut and blindly reached for the iv controls.
Wilson watched him fumble for a moment, then got up and pushed House’s shaking hands away, doing it himself.
House’s breathing slowly started to calm after a while, and Wilson went back over to his own bed, sitting down facing House.
“Told you.” he said simply.
House didn’t answer, he just curled up on his left side, facing away from Wilson.
Wilson watched his friend’s trembling back for a while, before he finally lay down himself.
Man House was annoying.
The guy didn’t even have to be conscious to annoy Wilson.
Wilson frowned, realizing what his train of thought had just been.
It hadn’t been like him, and he didn’t know why he had thought that.
He should have been thinking more like what he was thinking now, that House *had* to be in some serious pain.
“Sorry.” he said quietly.
“Did you tell Cameron?” was the gravely voiced reply.
“No.”
“Good.”
There was a long silence.
“House?”
“What?”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you acting like this?”
“Uh...this this or that this?”
“That this.”
“I think I already told you that. Although at this point I’m not actually sure. I hate being this high. Normal high, sure. This high, no thank you.”
Wilson frowned, listening to House’s hoarse voice, and sat up, looking at his friend’s back, covered only by a light blue hospital gown.
“You didn’t tell me exactly why. You just yelled at me a lot. I guess you probably figured it’s obvious and I would get your reasoning, but I don’t”
“You would get my reasoning. Normally I wouldn’t.”
Wilson blinked.
“Uh...care to explain that statement?”
“No.”
Wilson sighed.
“Um...that’s useful.”
“It should be.”
“...how?”
“I’m not gonna make it that easy.”
“By which you mean there’s something you would rather I didn’t figure out. Yet you’re giving me hints. What’s up with that?”
“You know...this is why I don’t like being this...”
Wilson blinked.
“House?”
House stayed silent.
Wilson stood, coming over to House’s bed.
“...are you ok? House?”
“Ah...”
“House?” asked Wilson, leaning over the curled up diagnostician, trying to see his face.
House looked distinctly green.
“Oh. You gonna be ok?”
“Ah...yeah. Well, depends...on what you count as...ok.”
Wilson sighed.
“Go to sleep.”
Wilson rolled his eyes.
“Ah...ha...ah...ha...ah...” panted House, the morphine obviously only taking the sharpest edge off.
Wilson swallowed, biting his lower lip.
“No. You go to sleep.”
“Oh, yeah, that’ll...work really...well.”
“Go to sleep. Seriously.”
“You.”
Wilson opened his mouth to retort, but closed it and instead put a hand briefly on House’s shoulder, then went back to his own bed.
“I’m going to sleep. You can watch me all you want, I’m not going to be faking.”
Curled up, in pain, feeling nauseous and exhausted, House grinned very slightly, hazily aware that he wasn’t going to be falling asleep anytime soon, but knowing Wilson knew that as well.
Wilson laid down, closing his eyes. He was surprised to discover how tired he was, after only being up for half a day. He fell asleep listening to the sounds of House’s labored breathing, the only thoughts on his mind pertained to the cause of the sounds.
Wilson lay awake on the white hospital bed, staring up at the white ceiling, which was broken only by the white smoke and carbon monoxide detectors.
The last year had been odd. House had done some crazy things, even by his standards, but as Wilson thought about it, they did seem to connect, a possible reason forming in Wilson’s mind.
Cepa girl...brain cancer implant...stalking cuddy. They all had some sort of *normal* logic that could have been behind them. House was trying to fix the pain with cepa girl. The brain implant could have been an oddly disguised attempt at pulling himself out of the obvious depression he was stuck in. Stalking cuddy...yes, that did have a ring of humanity in it... was house trying, in his ever so screwed up way, to get better? He had managed to talk the raped girl out of messing up her life permanently. House had later told Wilson how, although House had admittedly been so drunk that Wilson had barely understood the words. That had been how Wilson had gained the proof that his long held suspicion about house’s father was true.
Had the last year, ignoring the tritter thing, just been house being weird as usual or was there actually a normal motive hidden deep inside all the insanity?
And the last three days? House fiercely making Wilson take the time to rest?
That could be attributed to a normal motive too...actually caring if his friend ended up seriously hurt.
Wilson knew why he hadn’t believed it, but he was starting to get that it might be possible by this point. Might.
“House?”
House let out at sleepy sound but didn’t answer.
Wilson smiled slightly, glad that House had managed to get to sleep at last.
A good deal of the milk was slopped onto the tray from House carrying it.
“Chase said you were talking to my patients.”
“Uh, yeah.” said House, briskly and without sarcasm.
“Are you *trying* to torture me, House?”
“No. If I was, I wouldn’t do it this indirectly. It’d take to long.”
“What did you say!?”
“To you or to your patients?”
“My patients!”
“Luuunch.” said House, waving the sandwich under Wilson’s nose.
“House! Stop it! Stop torturing me, stop putting my patients at risk, sto-“
House stuck the sandwich into Wilson’s open mouth.
“Chew, swallow, repeat. Stop when the sandwich is gone. You think you can do that?”
Wilson spit the bite of sandwich out, glaring at House.
“Let me out of here, or I swear I’ll–“
“You’ll what? Cut me off? Like I’m not ready for that. Try and hit me? Oh, yeah, that’ll work great. Especially with the whole getting a mild concussion from tripping over your own underwear because you’re exhausted thing. Give it up. There’s nothing you can do, or threaten to do, that’s going to have any affect on me.”
Wilson glared at House for a moment longer, thinking.
“I’ll tell Cameron about your dad.”
House jerked, spilling the remainder of the milk.
“You wouldn’t.”
“For me, no. for my patients, yes, I would.”
House looked at Wilson, one eyebrow twitching slightly in a very irritated fashion.
“No.” he said, turning around, his voice sounding slightly strangled.
Wilson gaped at him.
“No!? You don’t care if I tell Cameron that–“
“Of course I care! I’d never forgive you if you told her! You know that!”
“Oh, so you think I won’t do it!?”
“No. I know you’ll do it. And I’ll never forgive you. But I’d rather never forgive you for that than never forgive you for seriously hurting yourself.” stated House, his voice oddly calm, as he limped heavily out the door.
Wilson stared after the retreating figure, shocked, and only then registering that House had been holding his cane so tightly that his knuckles were white.
Wilson frowned, and looked at the sandwich.
It was a reuben.
*********************
“House.”
House turned around, looking at Cuddy who was approaching the elevators at high speed.
“House, I know you’re taking Wilson’s duties. I know you’re putting up with talking to his patients. But you’ve been neglecting one part of his duties.”
House looked at her with a pained expression.
“Oh, come on. I’m talking to patients, isn’t that enough for you?”
“It’s enough for me but this hospital does need doctors to staff the clinic. And if Wilson has too make up all the clinic hours you’re forcing him to miss, it’ll tire him right back out again.”
House glared at Cuddy for a moment, then sighed.
“Fine.”
He turned around and limped thought the glass doorway labeled “clinic”
Cuddy blinked after him, astounded that it had been that easy.
***************
“We think she ate a piece of my mother’s cookie jar.”
“Did you not think to clean up said broken cookie jar before your daughter went diving for yummies?”
“Oh, no, it wasn’t broken, it had little gingerbread men glued on the front. She’s only two, we figure she thought they looked like cookies and pulled one off.”
“How long ago did she eat it?”
“Two months.”
****************
“Does aspirin work as a suppository?”
“Couldn’t you have just asked a pharmacy that?”
“Well, yeah, but you see I kinda...uh...already stuck it up there...”
“How much?”
“Well, actually, two bottles.”
“Didn’t they start falling out after a while?”
“Oh, no, I left them in the bottles so that didn’t happen.”
*****************
“I think I hava...”
“Haven’t I seen you before?”
“No.”
“I’ve seen you before.”
“It was *supposed* to be Dr. Wilson...”
“How old are you?”
“Sixty.”
“You said that a year ago. It’s not any more true now than it was then.”
*****************
“Hey, Cuddy!”
“What House? You trying to flee after just two patients?”
“Does repeatedly coming in for std tests count as drug seeking behavior?”
“No, it counts as being a sexually active person prone to worrying.”
“And if you, a seventy-ish female repeatedly come in asking for std tests specifying that you want a male doctor?”
“Uh...ew...”
*********************
“He’s got a pair of tongs and a loupe up his butt hole.”
“Wendy!”
“What? You just want him to guess?”
“No...but...you don’t have to say it out loud...”
“Uh-huh. You wanted to write it down?”
“No, I just meant not all plain and...stuff...”
“As much as I would like to hear this argument, the clinic’s weekly weirdest thing pulled out of an orifice contest is *so* mine if I get them out before five.”
“You’re making a game out of this!”
“Well, what better use do you have for people that stick loupes and tongs up their asses?”
“He’s got a point...”
“Wendy!”
*****************
“She’s got a fever.”
“And...?”
“Um, it’s a high fever?”
“How high?”
“Ninety five, I think.”
“Ok....I’m guessing your wife sent you.”
“Yeah...”
House stuck a thermometer in the girl’s mouth.
“Why did you think you needed to come?”
“Well, my wife said she was jerking, I thought it was probably a bad thing, so I told her she should take her to the doctor. She didn’t want to, so I did.”
House pulled the thermometer out hurriedly as it beeped, looked at it, and then pushed off with his left leg, rolling the stool over to the phone.
“Need some cooling blankets and ice packs in here. One year old with a fever of one oh five. Had at least one seizure already.”
“Lucky you. You actually didn’t kill your daughter.”
“What? It’s that bad?!”
“Jerking plus high fever in a one year old usually means the kid had a seizure from her body temperature being too high.”
“Oh, god, what have I done!”
“Nothing. You saved your kid’s life. Calm down. She’ll be fine.”
“Oh, thank you doctor, thank you.”
House looked down at his name tag, making sure it still read “Dr. Greg House” not “Dr. James Wilson” or “Dr. Allison Cameron”
*********************
“I’ll start with an empty bottle of lube. Vagina of a eighty three year old. No dementia.”
“A crushed lamp shade. Rectum. Twelve year old boy.”
“Rolled up map that caused papercuts. Rectum. Fifty four year old male.”
“Champagne cork. Wide side up. Left nostril. Sixty two year old female. Had an accident at a wedding dinner.”
“Broken off piece of a florescent light tube. Very drunk twenty two year old male. Accompanied by a slightly less drunk twenty one year old male. Not related to each other.”
“Who cares? Anyway, a complete geode. Not intact, just complete. Rectum of a mid forties male truck driver.”
“Dr. House, wake up. It’s your turn.”
“Huh? Oh. Two full bottles of aspirin in a forty or so female. Thought they would work as suppositories. Loupe and a pair of tongs in a mid twenties male accompanied by his girlfriend. Tongs were inserted *before* the loupe. All three out of the rear end. I vote geode.”
“So do I.”
“Well, since I can’t vote for myself, I vote tongs and loupe.”
“Geode.”
“Tongs and loupe.”
“Same.”
“Tongs and loupe.”
“First place goes to...House, wake up. First place goes to Dr. House. Second place goes to nurse Brenda. Third place...we didn’t have any other votes. Revote minus the two winners. House, you vote first before you fall asleep again.”
“Empty lube tube.”
“Same.”
“Yep.”
“I vote lampshade.”
“Empty tube.”
“Empty lube tube wins. Third place goes to the intern that doesn’t have a name tag yet.”
“Alice.”
“Third place goes to Alice. Somebody wake House up again.”
“Dr. House, wake up. Time to go back to work.”
“Oh. Right.”
*******************
“No. I don’t think your kid has paraneoplasitc syndrome.”
“Are you sure? Shouldn’t I talk to a–“
“If you’re going to say diagnostician, then you’re talking to the head of that department. If you’re going to say oncologist, then you’re talking to the guy who’s covering for the head of that department.”
“Oh...but don’t you have to do tests to know for sure?”
“No. If your kid was in the least bit sick, maybe. But he’s not. Bye.”
*********************
House sighed, tiredly looking at his patient.
“No, swallowing his homework is not going to kill your kid. Goodbye.”
“But, wait!”
House shut the door on the lady, not even bothering to make a sarcastic comment.
*****************
“No...pretending to be a cat and licking yourself is not a psychological condition. It’s that fact that your kid is three yea–“
House stopped, shutting his eyes and swallowing.
“Doctor?” asked the woman, blinking.
“Your kid’s fine.” said House, opening his eyes again.
“Oh...thank you...” she said, looking confusedly back at the doctor sitting on the stool as she left.
House slid painfully off the stool and sat down in the corner of the room.
The room was slightly blurred, the floor seeming to be unsteady.
House closed his eyes, shutting out the sensation.
Unfortunately, that left him wide open for the other, much more severe sensation to flood his mind.
Pain and exhaustion flowed through him, bringing shaking and cold sweat with them as they pooled in his chest and back, skittered along his wrists and forearms, sunk into his shoulders, lodged in his neck, stabbed at his head, pounded through his hips, gripped at his ankles and roared, roared so loudly they drowned out everything else, in his thigh.
He swallowed hard, his mouth dry.
It hurt too much to even reach into his pocket and pull out those little white ovals of partial relief.
The door opened, but he didn’t look up.
He was too tired.
Why was that person shaking him?
The hands on his neck tickled.
Then they moved to his face, forcing him to look at the bright light glaring into his eyes.
“House?” said the person.
House thought something about the voice sounded familiar.
Does it matter?
No...just let it go...
“House?” asked the voice again, louder this time.
House finally decided that he should find out what the voice wanted, so that he could go back to trying to force back the pain.
“House?!” asked the voice very loudly this time.
House opened his eyes.
“House? Are you awake?”
Too blurry to identify the face...but light hair...Wilson?...no...couldn’t be Wilson...had to be...Chase?
He said the last one out loud, and the blurry figure sighed with relief.
As Chase stuck his head in the room, all he was thinking was that the lady *had* to chose him to go check on some stupid story about one of the doctors not looking very good.
His irritated train of thought was abruptly derailed as he saw House slumped in a corner, eyes closed, breathing shallow, face as white as the cabinet he was slumped against.
Chase dashed over, shaking his boss.
House didn’t respond.
Chase put his hand’s on House’s neck, checking the pulse.
Very, very fast, but not life threatening.
He lifted House’s eyelids, finding that his pupils responded normally, and that he was conscious.
“House?” he called softly, worried.
House didn’t respond.
“House?” Chase called again, more urgently.
House maybe lolled his head a bit but nothing else.
“House!?” Chase shouted, seriously worried now.
House slowly opened his eyes, looking weakly up at Chase.
“House? Are you awake?” he asked, not sure if House was lucid or not.
“Chase?” he said after a minute.
Chase sighed, relief flooding him.
“What’s up?” he asked, knowing it was a lame question.
House didn’t seem to care, however.
“Leg.” he mumbled so quietly that Chase could barely hear him.
Chase sighed again, and shook his boss’s shoulder.
“House, come on. Pay attention. You’re lying on the floor of an exam room. Is that where you want to be?”
“Everybody...lies...”
“I meant lying as in lying down. As in falling asleep. That kind of lying.”
“Oh...”
House finally seemed to snap out of it a bit, blinking at Chase and looking around.
“What?” he asked, looking slightly confused.
“You sorta half passed out in the middle of seeing a patient. They mentioned it to me, and I decided to check. You were lying here nearly unconscious when I came in.”
“Oh. Damn.”
“You know...”
“Yeah. I know. Meaning you don’t have to comment.”
Chase rolled his eyes.
“House, are you gonna pass out again? Or are you ok now?”
House snorted.
Chase sighed.
“Fine, maybe not ok, but able to get up?”
“I...” House faltered, frowning.
Chase tilted his head, trying to read House’s expression.
“I don’t know. That I don’t know.”
Chase let out a deep breath.
“Ok, well, you want me to leave you here or what?”
It occurred to Chase that, other than being punched by him and pressing on the bullet holes in his side and neck, he had never actually touched House before today.
Foreman opened the door, blinking at the scene inside and holding a patient file.
“Um...what’s going on?”
“He almost passed out while seeing a patient. They noticed and told me.”
Foreman snorted and rolled his eyes, exasperated by his boss’s behavior.
Chase looked back at House, and frowned when he saw that he had closed his eyes again, his head back against the wall.
Foreman’s eyebrows came together, confused.
“He’s not just high, is he?”
“No. I don’t know if he did something or what, but...”
“Right...”
Foreman leaned over, rubbing his knuckles hard over House’s chest.
House’s eyelids opened again, flickering.
“Hey. We’ve got a patient.”
House’s eyes closed again.
Foreman and Chase looked at each other, then called for a nurse.
******************
The ceiling was white.
His ceiling wasn’t white.
“You’re an utter idiot.”
His ceiling didn’t insult him either.
“What?” he asked the ceiling.
“You’re an utter idiot. Didn’t you get it the first time?”
No wonder. The ceiling wasn’t talking.
House blinked and looked to his right.
Wilson was lying there, glaring at him.
“Why do I feel higher than usual?”
“Because you are. You’re on morphine. Lots of it. Because you’re an idiot.”
“Oh. If I’m on lots of morphine, why does my leg hurt so bad?”
“Because you’re a total idiot.”
“That doesn’t make sense. I said my leg hurts, not my brain.”
“Go back to sleep House.”
“You’re the one who should be asleep.”
Wilson sighed at the only partly lucid stubbornness of his friend.
“I’ll sleep if you sleep, ok?”
“If I’m asleep I won’t know if you are.”
“Oh why does he have to be so logical?” thought Wilson, exasperated by his friend’s recent behavior.
“Ok, fine watch me go to sleep then go to sleep yourself. Why are you messing with your morphine? You’re maxed out already.”
“I’m not upping it. I can’t think straight.”
“House, don’t. Your EEG was off the charts.”
“I can’t think straight. I don’t like that. My leg always hurts, I’m used to that. I’m not used to not being able to think straight.”
Wilson sat up, debating whether or not he should stop House.
“You should go to sleep.” stated House, squinting at the iv display.
“So should you.”
“I’m not the one that accidentally injected themself with morphine.”
“No, you’re the one who refused to go home for long enough that their leg caused them to pass out several times before finally getting bad enough that they barely knew what was going on even when they were *awake* and got put on morphine because of it.”
“And you gave yourself a grade two concussion tripping over your undies.”
“While trying to investigate the fact that you had sat down halfway down the hallway.”
“Which meant nothing.”
“Cuddy said you could barely get up after you checked on me.”
“That’s cus I hurried because I thought you’d serio...” House trailed off mid sentence, squeezing his eyes shut and blindly reached for the iv controls.
Wilson watched him fumble for a moment, then got up and pushed House’s shaking hands away, doing it himself.
House’s breathing slowly started to calm after a while, and Wilson went back over to his own bed, sitting down facing House.
“Told you.” he said simply.
House didn’t answer, he just curled up on his left side, facing away from Wilson.
Wilson watched his friend’s trembling back for a while, before he finally lay down himself.
Man House was annoying.
The guy didn’t even have to be conscious to annoy Wilson.
Wilson frowned, realizing what his train of thought had just been.
It hadn’t been like him, and he didn’t know why he had thought that.
He should have been thinking more like what he was thinking now, that House *had* to be in some serious pain.
“Sorry.” he said quietly.
“Did you tell Cameron?” was the gravely voiced reply.
“No.”
“Good.”
There was a long silence.
“House?”
“What?”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you acting like this?”
“Uh...this this or that this?”
“That this.”
“I think I already told you that. Although at this point I’m not actually sure. I hate being this high. Normal high, sure. This high, no thank you.”
Wilson frowned, listening to House’s hoarse voice, and sat up, looking at his friend’s back, covered only by a light blue hospital gown.
“You didn’t tell me exactly why. You just yelled at me a lot. I guess you probably figured it’s obvious and I would get your reasoning, but I don’t”
“You would get my reasoning. Normally I wouldn’t.”
Wilson blinked.
“Uh...care to explain that statement?”
“No.”
Wilson sighed.
“Um...that’s useful.”
“It should be.”
“...how?”
“I’m not gonna make it that easy.”
“By which you mean there’s something you would rather I didn’t figure out. Yet you’re giving me hints. What’s up with that?”
“You know...this is why I don’t like being this...”
Wilson blinked.
“House?”
House stayed silent.
Wilson stood, coming over to House’s bed.
“...are you ok? House?”
“Ah...”
“House?” asked Wilson, leaning over the curled up diagnostician, trying to see his face.
House looked distinctly green.
“Oh. You gonna be ok?”
“Ah...yeah. Well, depends...on what you count as...ok.”
Wilson sighed.
“Go to sleep.”
Wilson rolled his eyes.
“Ah...ha...ah...ha...ah...” panted House, the morphine obviously only taking the sharpest edge off.
Wilson swallowed, biting his lower lip.
“No. You go to sleep.”
“Oh, yeah, that’ll...work really...well.”
“Go to sleep. Seriously.”
“You.”
Wilson opened his mouth to retort, but closed it and instead put a hand briefly on House’s shoulder, then went back to his own bed.
“I’m going to sleep. You can watch me all you want, I’m not going to be faking.”
Curled up, in pain, feeling nauseous and exhausted, House grinned very slightly, hazily aware that he wasn’t going to be falling asleep anytime soon, but knowing Wilson knew that as well.
Wilson laid down, closing his eyes. He was surprised to discover how tired he was, after only being up for half a day. He fell asleep listening to the sounds of House’s labored breathing, the only thoughts on his mind pertained to the cause of the sounds.
Wilson lay awake on the white hospital bed, staring up at the white ceiling, which was broken only by the white smoke and carbon monoxide detectors.
The last year had been odd. House had done some crazy things, even by his standards, but as Wilson thought about it, they did seem to connect, a possible reason forming in Wilson’s mind.
Cepa girl...brain cancer implant...stalking cuddy. They all had some sort of *normal* logic that could have been behind them. House was trying to fix the pain with cepa girl. The brain implant could have been an oddly disguised attempt at pulling himself out of the obvious depression he was stuck in. Stalking cuddy...yes, that did have a ring of humanity in it... was house trying, in his ever so screwed up way, to get better? He had managed to talk the raped girl out of messing up her life permanently. House had later told Wilson how, although House had admittedly been so drunk that Wilson had barely understood the words. That had been how Wilson had gained the proof that his long held suspicion about house’s father was true.
Had the last year, ignoring the tritter thing, just been house being weird as usual or was there actually a normal motive hidden deep inside all the insanity?
And the last three days? House fiercely making Wilson take the time to rest?
That could be attributed to a normal motive too...actually caring if his friend ended up seriously hurt.
Wilson knew why he hadn’t believed it, but he was starting to get that it might be possible by this point. Might.
“House?”
House let out at sleepy sound but didn’t answer.
Wilson smiled slightly, glad that House had managed to get to sleep at last.
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i'm just at my computer and my email keeps telling me that it got a new message...
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what do ya mean?
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that's too bad, i hope you're ok now...
only times i ever passed out were on the way out of preschool for no apparent reason (nearly needed stiches, hit my head on the sidewalk)
and after a kendo class before which i forgot to take my inhaler...
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Well, I'm mostly okay now. My leg still hurts though.
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my elbow (jeeze, this is getting quite coincidental...) still hurts from some unidentifiable soft tissue injury almost a month ago...
(probably would go away faster if i didn't spend all my time at the computer, typing but eh...)
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my elbow whimpers in apology for being compared to that...
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“House, come on. Pay attention. You’re lying on the floor of an exam room. Is that where you want to be?”
“Everybody...lies...”
HAH.
I also liked the reference to the way those two can understand each other [even if House was a bit high in this case, lol]:
“Uh...this this or that this?”
“That this.”
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glad you're liking this story, i promise, it will not be as long as trash cans beware is...that's my monster thesis of fanfiction...
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(hehe, but that's how i like it. because there's no way i could write house just opening up overnight to the point he's going to in that story...)
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the first story i wrote sucked.
(which is why "what the winter brings" will probably never be updated again)
the seccond one is trash cans beware...