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Housian Dynamics	By : SaMe Category: G through L > House Views: 7327 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own House, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Housian Dynamics
- 2-Chapter 2
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Housian Dynamics

A House fic by Merrie

Disclaimer: They are mine! All mine!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA ~is
carted off by nice men in white coats with butterfly nets~
Summary: Dr. Gregory House is a genius when it comes to
diagnosing mysterious ailments and illnesses. But what happens when he falls
ill with an unexplainable disease himself? Will his team be able to prove their
worth by working together without him in time to save him?
Characters: House, Cam, Chase, Foreman, Wilson, Cuddy,
Vogler, etc. etc. If they�re on House regularly, they�ll at least be mentioned
in this fic.
Spoilers: As I started writing this after watching
Heavy-yeah I know I�m slow-that�s where this fic takes place but it will be AU
after that.
Pairings: I�m a House/Cameron fanatic, so undoubtedly there
will be aspects of that. I�m also a House/Wilson friendship fan so look for
that as well.
Author�s Note: While this isn�t my first fanfic
by any means, it is only my second attempt at writing for House. Also, I am not
a doctor; I never have been nor ever will be a doctor. While all of the medical
ailments are real-as far as the Internet informs me-I have tinkered
with time and the seriousness of symptoms occasionally to make the story more
dramatic. I hope you won�t hold it against me.
Rating: Um, let�s say PG-13 for naughty language, icky
medical stuff, and much Vicodin taking. That�s probably safe. Or...um, T+? Is that how they�re working this new-fangled
rating system these days? In any case, this fic should be suitable for teenagers
and above.
Chapter One
Gregory House felt like shit. There was no getting around
it. He couldn�t lie to himself and say that he was fine-that he was hung-over
or just tired-because for one he hadn�t had anything but his normal glass of
single-malt scotch last night, and two he had actually gotten a decent amount
of sleep. Looking at himself in the mirror made it even harder to deny; his
complexion had all but turned the shade of rice paper save the two flushed
cherries marking probably fever on his cheeks, his eyes looked dull and glassy
even as he blinked them, and all around he looked about as well as he felt:
like shit.
�Cuddy�d probably give me the day
off if I called in,� he mused to himself as he hung his cane on the towel rack
and cupped his hands under the running faucet to bring cool relief to his
feverish skin. He didn�t dare take his temperature; there was only so much he
could admit even to himself. He felt like shit. He was not, nor ever would be,
sick. He didn�t get sick. He got food poisoning, migraines and hangovers like
everyone else, but he did not get
sick. Therefore, if he wasn�t sick, he couldn�t call in claiming he was sick.
Well, he could but that wouldn�t be very nice, now would it? Not with the scores of unwashed waiting for
their healer to arrive, he thought dryly. And those ducklings of mine wouldn�t know what to do with themselves
without me. Not to mention that
turncoat Chase wouldn�t have anyone to tattle to daddy on. House wanted to
be upset with the young Australian doctor, but it took too much energy right
now.
�I should just stay home,� he mused again, half trying to
convince himself. He had had to drag himself out of bed this morning as it was
anyway. What difference would it make if he just crawled back between the sheets
and let this godforsaken day go to hell? Because I�m not sick.
I�m just in a bad mood. And what�s more fun than inflicting your bad moods on
unsuspecting coworkers and friends? His rational mind didn�t have such an
easy answer for that one.
ooo
�And you�re here why, exactly?� James Wilson asked
incredulously as he listened again to House�s rationalisation of why he had
come into work today. �Have you even seen yourself? You look half-dead. Face it
Greg. You�re sick. Just go home.�
House grunted. �Go be a doctor somewhere else. I�m fine.�
Wilson rolled his eyes. �You would say that if you had a
dagger sticking out of your back.�
House moved his hand to his back to feel along his shirt.
�Well I certainly don�t feel any daggers so therefore I must be fine. If you
want to put one there later I won�t tell. Now if you�ll excuse me, my victims
await,� he said with a somewhat subdued-for him-mischievous grin and hobbled
into his office, leaving Wilson to
stand stunned in his wake, slowly shaking his head.
House moved into the conference room attached to his office
without acknowledging any of his trio of young doctors as he headed straight
for his red coffee mug and the coffee pot that Cameron had no doubt filled
first thing. He stopped in front of it, very nearly poured himself a cup,
debated on whether or not he wanted tea instead, and opted for neither. He
didn�t really feel like drinking anything right now anyway. Not because he
wasn�t feeling well-he didn�t get sick-but because he simply wasn�t thirsty.
Or, that�s what he told himself at least.
�Good morning, Dr. House.�
Now wasn�t that odd? It hadn�t been Cameron�s smooth tones
that had greeted him but Foreman�s deeper voice, inexplicably lacking the air
of condescending that usually filled his words. Oh that�s right. Foreman was
the only one that wasn�t mad at him at the moment. Chase was upset because he
had been found out that he was tattling and Cameron�well Cameron had her
reasons for being upset with him. He remained silent for a minute longer,
seeing that Foreman wasn�t really waiting for a response. He grunted a good
morning back anyway and took a seat at the table with Foreman on his right and
Cameron on his left. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his leg out in
front of him, telling himself that he was sitting down to take the weight off
of it, not that he felt dizzy all of a sudden. �So, nothing?
Not a single case that requires my unique talents and skills?�
The trio shook their heads near simultaneously, Chase
answering further. �We haven�t had a new case in a week. Not since the fat
girl.�
Foreman snorted at this, clearly irritated by Chase�s choice
of words.
Chase shrugged and amended. �The heavy
girl then.�
�Who�s not so heavy anymore,� Cameron
spoke up.
House would have rolled his eyes at their banter, but he
found himself lacking the energy. �The girl, whether she could be called fat,
heavy, jumbo-sized or big boned doesn�t matter because she�s not here. We discharged her, remember
now or do you all need further reminders?� When his staff declined to answer,
he went on. �Girl came in, heart conditi��
�We remember, Dr. House,� Cameron interrupted his tirade
gracefully. �We honestly don�t have any new cases.�
�I thought you would be happy about that?� Foreman asked
with a puzzled frown. �You can just sit around in your office all day playing
your video games and watching your television.�
�Without a new case to solve he gets bored,� Chase offered
as an explanation. �You should try crossword puzzles.�
�Too easy,� House murmured, leaning back in his chair with a
sigh. Chase was right. He was bored.
For almost a year he had gotten by with doing as little as possible. Sure he
had had his days of boredom, but it was nothing like this. He had gotten used
to sinking his teeth into interesting cases again. He had grown to anticipate
the first rush of exhilaration when he found something to tax himself with. It
was irritating to find that he missed it; that he wouldn�t willingly go back to
the way things had been before.
�You could always go work in the clinic for a few hours. I�m
just saying,� Foreman rationalized after being confronted by a deathglare from House.
�Gee and here I was thinking about how much I�d rather have
my eyes plucked out than work in the clinic today. Would you like to do the
plucking?� House asked Foreman grimly.
Foreman just rolled his eyes at House�s response, determined
not to rise to the bait.
House in return just grunted, unconsciously bringing his
hands up the throbbing headache he was trying to deny away, forgetting that he
was currently the center of attention.
�Dr. House? Are you feeling alright?� Cameron�s quietly
concerned voice slipped in between the hammer-on-anvil-blows of his headache.
He looked up at her, silently cursing that he�d been
spotted. �I�m fine,� he growled, hoping she�d get the message and leave him be.
No such luck. �I could get you an aspirin if you like,� she
offered gently.
He scowled. When would she get it through her head that she
didn�t need to look after everyone? He wasn�t some snotty-nosed brat that she
could huddle under her wing to take care of. �I�m fine,� he bit out. �Go mother
someone else.�
Her jaw clenched, but she held her ground. That was good.
Once upon a time she might have turned on a heel and stormed off. That wasn�t
so now. She was learning. �Forget I said anything. Clearly you�re perfectly
fine in every way.�
Chase and Foreman shared an awkward look, neither of them
liking to be caught in the middle of this. It was too like mommy and daddy were fighting in front of their kids for either of
their minds to cope with. It was disturbing and both of them felt a strong
desire to go elsewhere for a few hours.
Instead of responding with a characteristically biting
comment to such a response from her House simply grunted and shook his head.
�Call me when some poor moron needs my help. Until then I�ll be in my office.�
He rubbed his sweaty palm on his pant leg and then grabbed his cane from where
it hung on the edge of the table. He had been about to rise to his feet when
Cameron decided to go on.
�You�re a stubborn son of a bitch, do you know that?�
Clearly she no longer cared for pretenses. Chase coughed discreetly to remind
her of his presence and Foreman just sat back to watch the show. She went on
irregardless. �It�s no wonder you�re miserable. You don�t care about anyone but
yourself and even then you don�t care about yourself much. And if anyone is
foolish enough to even consider
worrying about you, you just treat their concerns as idiot and their worries as
trivial.�
�You mean your
worries, don�t you? You�re angry with me because I don�t take you seriously,�
House answered her tirade calmly. �That my heart doesn�t go aflutter with worry
just because Cameron notices my colour�s off.�
�You�re a bastard,� she mused sourly. �One day something is
going to be really wrong and no one will say anything to you or even care
because we�re tired of your bullshit.�
�First I�m a son of a bitch and now I�m a bastard. Have you
been speaking with my mother lately?� House asked dryly. He didn�t have time
for this. Well�actually he did. What the hell else was he going to do all day
with no new cases? The day he went down to the clinic to stave off boredom was
the day he handed his resignation in to Vogler.
Cameron didn�t answer that. And from the look on House�s
face it was clear he wasn�t really searching for a response. She was slowly
beginning to see the difference between the snide remarks designed for notice
and response and the comments that he just spit back as a sort of automatic
defense mechanism. That didn�t make those comments any less painful to bear. At
first she had been hurt, she had even cried once-once-after a particularly harsh comment about a shirt she had been
wearing that day that she had never forgotten. She had never worn the shirt
again after that either. Instead she found herself unwillingly playing his
game; learning to speak up for herself. She would never be aggressive, she just
wasn�t that kind of person, but she wasn�t going to just let him walk all over
her like she was nothing either. Manipulation hadn�t worked. That was fine. She
hadn�t really expected the ideas given in the books she had read to work on
someone like House, but she couldn�t help but try.
Not for the first time she wished that she had never met
him; that she didn�t like him. Chase had been right. House didn�t like anyone.
He couldn�t like anyone. Knowing this didn�t make his refusal any easier to
bear. But she had had to ask. She had to know if she was wasting her time in
liking him. She had to know if he would ever be able to like her back. It was
clear that he didn�t, that he would never like her in the same way she liked
him. And yet�he had hesitated. She warned herself not to delve too deeply into
something as mundane as a few second long hesitation,
but couldn�t help it. Her heart had latched onto that hesitation as if it were
a lifeline. And the fact that he said it without so much as a mild frown gave
her pause as well; he who had a face of a thousand expressions. That had to mean something, didn�t it? She
wanted to think so. Her head knew that she would abandon this foolish crush
before she got hurt worse than she already had been, but her heart wasn�t
listening. It occurred to her then that House wasn�t listening either; or
saying a word for that matter. He was sitting at the table in utter
uncharacteristic silence. It made her want to ask if he was alright again but
she held her tongue.
Chase asked for her. Bless him. �Dr. House? Are you
alright?� He eyed House warily, looking as if he were about to stand up and
move to his side to check on him further. Good. Then Cameron wasn�t the only
one who noticed that he looked half dead and beaten this morning. More so than usual anyway.
House turned his head slowly and blinked at him, looking as
if he didn�t understand the question. His mind caught up quickly and he
answered that he was fine, but the hesitation was enough to draw Foreman�s
attention as well.
�If you�re sick why did you even bother coming in? You know Cuddy
will send you home anyway if she finds out,� Foreman pointed out with a
confused frown.
�I�m not sick,� House insisted heatedly. It was more than
time to retreat to his office and lock these nosy ducklings of his out behind
him. Only he didn�t quite feel up to standing and walking over there right now
so he was stuck.
�Sure you�re not,� Foreman said with a raised eyebrow and an
incredulous look. �If you�re not sick then why aren�t you roaming the halls
making life miserable for everyone you come across?�
�Because it�s much more fun for me to stay here and make
your life miserable instead,� House responded blithely.
�Right,� Foreman snorted. �You can�t get up to walk to your
office, can you? What? Are you afraid you�ll get dizzy and fall down and go
boom?�
If looks could kill, Chase and Cameron would be collateral
damage in Foreman�s fiery ball of agony. �Are you deaf as well as ignorant? I
said I�m fine,� House growled when
Foreman didn�t go up in flames as he had hoped.
Cameron was the first to let out a snort of irritation but
she wasn�t the only one. Clearly his staff needed to be reminded who was boss
again. Maybe a sound cane thwapping upside the head
would do the trick. But later. When he didn�t feel
like sleeping the week away and then some. Why had he come into work? Oh right.
Because he wasn�t sick.
�Prove it,� Cameron challenged. �I don�t see what the
problem is. If you�re sick you get a day off on a day without a new case to
solve anyway. If you�re not then we�ll stop bothering you about it.�
�No you won�t,� House muttered. �You worry. You nag. That�s
what you do.�
�Then I�m nagging,� Cameron shot back. �You�re not fooling
anyone, Dr. House. Would you like one of us to call Cuddy? I�m sure she�d be
more than willing to send you home whether you like it or not. Or how about Vogler? He�d love to see you out of the office
seeing as he sees this entire department as a waste of money. If the head of
the department�s not here then theoretically money won�t be wasted, correct?
He�d have you sent home even before the word fully reached his ears.�
�You play dirty. I like it,� House admitted grudgingly.
�Does that mean you�re answering the challenge?� Cameron
asked, ignoring the heavy-handed compliment.
�Sounds like fun. What is the challenge again?� House asked
with a forced grin, not liking the trickle of cold sweat that made its way down
his collar or the way his cane trembled with the slight shaking of his hand.
Maybe he really was sick�
�Prove to us that you�re not sick,� she answered. �I�ll make
a deal with you. If I�m right and you�ve got a temperature of over 100 then you
have to take a week off.�
�A week now? I thought you were
asking for just a day? What�s the matter? Do you want to get rid of me?� House
asked with a smirk.
�Do we have a deal or not? Foreman and Chase will be
witnesses.�
�Or on the other hand, they can sit around and do nothing
because there�s no deal. I�m not going home and I�m not sick,� House asserted,
taking hold of his cane once more and rising to his feet. �I�ll be in my office
if you feel the need to argue about this further,� he muttered, taking a step
in that direction. That�s funny. The
wall�s crooked. Maybe I should have maintenance up here to check on that�
House�s three young doctors watched in a mixture of
irritated amusement and horror as their boss and colleague suddenly dropped to
the ground like a marionette that had just had its strings cut.
�Stubborn,� Cameron muttered, not rising from her place at
the table to help House to his feet again even though she wanted to. He
wouldn�t accept her help anyway. �Are you still claiming that you�re not sick,
Dr. House? Or let me guess. You tripped.�
House neither responded nor moved from his heap in the
middle of the floor. His face was tilted to the side on the carpet so only his
profile was visible. Cameron frowned and got up from her chair to check on him,
swearing that if he was faking she wouldn�t be held accountable for her
actions.
�Come on, Dr. House. You fooled us. Nice job,� Chase called over
good-naturedly, thinking that House was faking.
Cameron was beginning to think otherwise as she approached
him. �Dr. House?� she called softly, crouching down beside him and reaching a
hand out to feel his forehead. �Oh god. He�s burning
up. We�ve got to get him into the ICU.�
Chase and Foreman were at her side within seconds. �He�s not
faking?� Chase asked incredulously. In all his time at Princeton-Plainsboro he
had never known House to be sick before.
�Not unless he�s learned how to fake a fever,� Cameron
answered with a shake of her head.
Chase�s brow furrowed and he reached out to feel Houses�
brow for himself, not fully believing it. �Damn. I didn�t think House ever got
sick,� he muttered as the three of them gently rolled House over onto his back.
�Dr. House? Can you hear me?� Chase asked in an insistent voice, even going to
far as to slap House lightly on the cheek in an attempt to wake him.
�He�s unresponsive,� Foreman announced with the frown before
yelling for a nurse. His voice carried well through the glass walls of the
office and down to a nearby nurses� station. Mere seconds later a nurse was
hurrying through the office door, taking in the scene before her with a
calculating stare. She didn�t even bother to ask what was wrong. She just
turned and went to get a stretcher. The team as a whole silently respected her
for that. �What could have caused this?� Foreman asked as they waited for the
nurse and the stretcher. �He was fine a minute ago.�
�I don�t know but we�re going to find out. We have to find out,� Cameron stated
firmly, worry clearly apparent in her voice.
�We will,� Chase answered her.
ooo
House moaned softly, not wanting to come back into the land
of the living but seemingly without a choice in that matter. He still felt like
shit. Every part of him ached, his head and throat most of all. His head felt
like someone large was sitting on it-he actually slowly raised an arm to make
sure this wasn�t the case-and his throat felt as if it had been lined with
sandpaper. And not the soft friendly kind of sandpaper either.
�You�ve got the flu, Dr. House,� Cameron�s gentle voice
interjected into his consciousness. He felt a cup of ice chips pressed against
his lips and figured that she must have put them there. He might have refused;
might have denied her help as he didn�t want it, but he was too thirsty to
argue now. He took a few of the ice chips into his mouth and chewed them up. It
hurt too much to suck on them. She continued once she had pulled the cup away
and set it on a table next to him. �Do you remember what happened?�
�It looks like you win the bet,� he muttered hoarsely. He
had no delusions that his fever hadn�t been over 100. He could feel that it had been.
�You�re temperature was 104 when we admitted you, so yes I win
the bet.� She didn�t sound as happy about this as she probably should have.
�You shouldn�t have even come into work today. What the hell were you
thinking?�
�Oh great, here comes the mothering,� he muttered to
himself. �I came into work looking for some sympathy. And it looks as if I�ve
found it. Are you going to make me some chicken noodle soup now or do I have to
ask Foreman or Chase? Maybe Cuddy would. She�s always seemed like the nurturing
type, don�t you think?�
�You really don�t give a damn about what happened in there,
do you? You really don�t care how seeing you like that affected all of us. You
collapsed in the middle of your office, House! We didn�t know what was wrong
with you!�
House rolled his
eyes. �If you haven�t gotten used to situations like that by now then clearly
I�m paying you too much because you haven�t been paying attention. I�m fine. You said it yourself. I�ve got the
flu. I�m sure they�ll pump me full of fluids and send me home for bed rest and
chicken noodle soup like the sick little boy that I am.�
�You�re insufferable,� Cameron said through gritted teeth.
�What if something had really been wrong with you?�
�Oh I�m sure the three supposedly brilliant doctors I was
forced to hire could figure something out. Now granted, without my clearly
superior expertise leading the way I�d probably be worm food by now, but
luckily for me all I need is a week off clinic duty and some good old-fashioned
TLC. Are you volunteering? Or should I ask Cuddy? Personally, I�m willing to
bet you have a more enjoyable bedside manner than she does, but hell I could be
wrong. It�s not likely, but there you go. Maybe you could both come. That�s
actually close to one of my current fantasies. But I�m a misanthrope and a
misogynist, right? I just sit around and decry the faults of humanity to the
walls. I couldn�t possibly spend my time doing anything else.�
�You�re a misanthrope. Not a misogynist,� Cameron muttered
under her breath.
�Oh so I hate mankind, but not womankind. I get it,� House
said wryly. �Does that make me a ladies man?�
Cameron ignored the question. �I didn�t say you hated everyone.
I don�t think you do. But you don�t trust anyone. You don�t let anyone in. You
don�t take any risks regarding people because you know-whether that knowing is correct or not doesn�t seem to
matter-that they�ll let you down somehow; they�ll hurt you.�
�You know what? You�ve got me all figured out.
Congratulations. I don�t trust anyone. I know they�ll hurt me because one time
I trusted the world to end and it didn�t. I tried mistrusting the world, but
people are far easier to avoid.�
�Fine. Be glib. Spit back some
sarcastic little comment to hide what of a coward you are. I don�t care
anymore. I�m tired of it, House. I�m tired of your manipulations and misdirection.
I�m tired of you treating us like we�re your personal lab rats and getting
annoyed when we try and find out what makes you do a turn on the wheel
instead.�
�Nice metaphor, but don�t forget who brings in the Gouda
around here.�
�A big rat,� Cameron answered him with a glower. Not waiting
to hear his retort, she spun on a heel and strode angrily out of his room,
managing to somehow slam the sliding glass door behind her.
�A big rat,� House repeated with a slight smirk. �Nice.
Where�s my cheese?� He looked around the room he was holed up in for the first
time, Cameron�s presence haven�t prevented it earlier. He was silently grateful
that it was private, he didn�t think he could deal
with some nosy roommate. Hold on. Where
the hell are my clothes? House lifted up the sheet after noticing that he
wasn�t wearing his regular layered t-shirt, dress shirt and suit coat. Or pants for that matter. Damn nurses. He was wearing the clearly
unflattering Princeton-Plainsboro special: bluish-white cotton robe that covered
just enough to show everything. At least they let me keep my boxers, he
muttered to himself. But where the hell
is my Vicodin? After a brief search, he located the familiar brown bottle
on the small table next to the bed, thinking that one of the nurses must have
thoughtfully left it. Oh come on. It�s
more likely that Cameron did it. The nurses couldn�t remember to do something
like making sure a chronic pain sufferer�s pain medication was within easy
reach if their lives depended on it. He didn�t like labeling himself in
such terms, but he wasn�t in denial over his condition. He was a sufferer of
chronic pain and a cripple. That�s what he was. There was no use denying
rationality.
He took a moment to evaluate the level of pain he was
currently feeling before tapping out two pills into his hand. He wince as they
clawed at his sore throat on the way down, cursing the clinic for the sudden
case of the flu he apparently had. He did his best to keep himself healthy but
when he was forced to deal with idiots who didn�t even wash their hands after
coughing all over them these things happened. Damn Cuddy. Damn clinic, he growled to himself for what must have
been the millionth time by now, impatiently waiting for the pills to dissolve
into his system and steal his pain away if only for a little while.
ooo
Wilson was walking from a patient�s room with tension and
emphatic grief written in every line of his young face when he literally bumped
into Cuddy as she strode purposefully across the hall. �Oh,
Dr. Wilson. Have you seen Dr. House?� she asked him pointedly.
He had had a rough morning. First House had to be a stubborn
son a bitch as always and give him cause to worry, and on top of that he had
lost two patients he had foolishly become fond of. He had his own version of
House�s unique �Everybody lies,� concept. His was, �Everybody dies.� He had
been warned against specializing in oncology; his parents especially had raised
concerns at how he would be able to deal with that much pain and suffering and
grief surrounding him, but he had persevered. He had always cared for people,
and he had always wanted to be a doctor. It really wasn�t so hard to believe
that he would want to work with cancer patients. Sure, he was looking for a
cure as much as any other doctor with his particular specializations would be,
but he enjoyed giving people comfort. He took comfort from their comfort. His
thoughts were interrupted by a very unladylike clearing of a throat from Cuddy
and he realised he didn�t answer her question. �No, I haven�t seen him since
this morning. Maybe he decided to follow my advice for a change instead of just
pretending to listen to it and went home. He looked like shit.�
�Why would he go home? He has clinic duty today,� Cuddy
pointed out then paused at how that sounded. Of course House would fake an
illness to get out of clinic duty.
�I doubt he actually went home. I�ll help you find him if
you like,� Wilson offered. He
needed to get out of the oncology department for awhile to clear his head and
this seemed like a worthy enough distraction. I�m going House-hunting with Cuddy. Something about that caused him
to giggle inappropriately and Cuddy sent him a look. He shook his head and held
out a hand for her to lead the way. �I�ll assume you�ve checked his office.
Have you asked one of his staff? Or perhaps Vogler?�
�Vogler�s the one who sent me
looking for him, and his office was the first place I looked,� Cuddy answered,
her heels clacking sharply on the tile as she strode purposefully towards the
elevators.
As luck would have it, they bumped into Dr. Foreman in the
elevator going down. �Have you guys heard?� he asked without preamble.
Cuddy and Wilson sent each other a confused glance before
simultaneously shaking their heads. �Heard what?� Cuddy asked.
�House is in the ICU. He collapsed in his office this
morning,� Foreman answered with a frown.
�God damn it,� Wilson cursed angrily. �I told him he
shouldn�t have come in today. Is he alright?�
Foreman nodded. �We think it�s just a nasty case of the flu.
With the way the nurses are already complaining about him, it wouldn�t surprise
me to learn he�s being sent home soon.�
Wilson shook his head and snorted softly at that. He
couldn�t-and didn�t want to-imagine having House as a patient. Doctors typically
made the worst kinds of patients and House was the worst of the worst. �What
room is in he in?�
�I�ll check on him later. I�ve got to go call off the search
party,� Cuddy murmured with an almost imperceptible frown of what might have
been worry on her face before she turned sharply and walked back the way she
had come.
�I�ll take you to him, Dr. Wilson,� Foreman offered with a
shrug. �It seems that today would have been slow anyway even if House hadn�t
gotten sick.�
�Is that a thinly veiled complaint that you�re bored, Dr.
Foreman?� Wilson asked with a small
smile.
�Oh I didn�t mean for it to be thinly veiled. I meant for it
to be blunt and bordering on whining. I�m bored out of my skull,� Foreman
answered with a laugh as they rode up the elevator. �I was getting ready to
head up to House�s room anyway just for a few minutes of entertainment value
and bragging rights,� he murmured as they exited the elevator and moved down
the hall to House�s room.
�Let me guess. You all told him to go home as well and he
didn�t listen to you either? Of course he didn�t. I swear, I�m going to
strangle him one of these days,� Wilson
grunted in frustration.
�You�ll probably receive a medal for service to the
community when you do,� Foreman responded with a smirk. �Here it is. 326. We
didn�t even bother not getting him a private room.�
�That was probably wise,� Wilson
said as he slid open the glass door to House�s room, frowning as he saw his
friend lying on the hospital bed, seemingly asleep. He looked even worse than
he had this morning and that was saying a lot. �House?�
Wilson asked softly, moving into
the room and hearing Foreman slide the door shut behind him. He probably
shouldn�t wake House, but he had to make sure that he was alright and that
meant talking to him. He had been expecting irritation and snide comments from
House as he woke and so he was completely unprepared from the violent start and
shudder in the bed as House slid into consciousness, nor the startled look in
his blue eyes. �House? It�s me. How are you feeling?�
Inexplicably, House started again at the sound of Wilson�s
voice, and he and Foreman shared a concerned look. �I want to get out of here,�
House said matter-of-factly. He actually moved to get out of bed and nearly
made it before Foreman and Wilson
rushed over to stop him. What worried the two doctors even further was the way
House fought their help; like they were somehow trying to hurt him. �Let me
go!� he yelled, trying to throw their grabbing hands off by thrashing on the
bed.
�Greg!� Wilson
shouted, grabbing the sides of House�s face and forcing him to look at him.
�You�re alright, do you hear me? Now calm down or we�re going to have to call a
nurse,� he said evenly. He didn�t know what was wrong with House to make him
freak out like this, but he knew that if they couldn�t get him calmed they
would be forced to restrain him because they couldn�t give him any sedatives
until his body was purged of Vicodin and that was not an option at the moment.
�James?� House blinked up at him, going blessedly still on
the bed although Foreman still held his shoulders just in case.
�That�s it, Greg. You�re alright. We�re not trying to hurt
you, we just want to get you better,� Wilson
said in his best soothing doctor voice. �Do you want to tell me what happened?�
House gave him a puzzled look. �I don�t know what happened, Wilson.
And you can let go of me now, Foreman. I�m not going to bolt,� he said dryly,
sending a pointed look at the young doctor who was still holding him down.
�It didn�t look that way a few minutes ago,� Foreman pointed
out with a frown but did let House go.
�Well that was then. I�m all better now, I promise,� House
said glibly.
�I don�t believe you. Now are you going to tell us what
happened or do you want me to restrain you again?� Foreman asked in a tone that
told House to cut through the bullshit.
House rolled his eyes but cleared his sore throat and began
to speak. �You�startled me, alright? And then I just wanted to get out of this
godforsaken place.�
�And that�s it? That�s your story?� Wilson
asked incredulously a mere second before Foreman could ask much the same.
�House, you looked about ready to crawl out of your own skin.�
�Well thank God you two were here to prevent that,� House
snapped coldly.
�Stop being such an ass to the people trying to help you,
House,� Wilson ordered coolly. �Now be a good boy and let me take your
temperature and maybe you�ll get a sucker later.�
House glared but opened his mouth after muttering, �It had
better be cherry.�
�It�ll be whatever flavour I get
and you�ll eat it anyway,� Wilson murmured before wandering briefly away to
grab a sterile thermometer from the nurses� station and putting it under
House�s tongue. After a minute, Wilson
removed the thermometer and looked at with a frown. �You�re still topping 100.
No wonder you�re so delightful today.�
�You want delightful?� House asked sweetly. �How about you
stick that thermometer up your�� House didn�t get to finish his snide remark
because he was suddenly arching up off the bed in what looked like unimaginable
pain, every muscle ridged and screaming all at once. Hey, I know this, a distant part of his brain whispered. This is like what happened with your leg. I
can�t say I missed this. House just screamed.
TBC
A/N: Well that was fun, wasn�t it? Angsty fun. ;-) It�s always
a grand idea to start a fic off with a bang, right? Heh. Don�t hate me for
cliffhangers. I can say with authority that there will be more than a few in
this fic. O:-) The new chappy
will hopefully be up soon, but it�s got to wait its turn in the now three story
queue.
Oh and I must thank all those of you who reviewed Second
Chances, my other House fic. You all brought a smile to my face and definitely
made my day. Thank you!!! :-D
-Merrie
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Housian Dynamics