Authors note: You asked for it, let me know what you think to this follow up to Unforseen Circumstances 1 (and yes I did call it UC 2 so you'd know it was the next fic!) There is more if you want it! Enjoy, Review and till next time, Buh Bye!
Cuddy couldn't take her eyes off of House the entire journey to the hospital, it made her feel better to watch him take in every breath – it made her heart almost jump out of her mouth when she saw him swallow, meaning he was no longer fully unconscious, just to know he was still alive made her ecstatic, as much as he annoyed her, she really had a soft spot for him.
She stroked her hand over his cheek, watching the droplets of sweat forming and gliding over his brow, which was furrowed in pain for the best part of the journey.
His ripped t-shirt had now been completely removed by the EMT and he was gingerly cutting away House's torn jeans so that he could get a better look at his legs.
Cuddy could see House breathing more rapidly as the EMT took the dressing off of the gash in his right leg, clearly getting distressed as he felt his bad leg being touched.
She put her hand on his forehead and stroked gently trying to reassure him, "House its ok, we're just cleaning up the dressing, don't worry…we're nearly at the hospital…it's gonna be ok…" she comforted and soothed, making sure he became more relaxed and his breathing evened out.
She dared herself to glance over his swollen, tender collarbone and ribs – wincing as she saw in the harsh light of the ambulance, the chest drain that Wilson had hurriedly inserted between ribs "Ouch" she whispered as her eyes traced the line of blood that had dripped down past his bellybutton.
She couldn't help but stare at his scar over his abdomen where he was shot last summer; it was an everlasting reminder of how he had nearly died again in her care, or at least her hospital's care. 'Damn security, incompetent asses' she cursed to herself as she continued stroking his hair.
The EMT had cut away House's jeans to reveal his old scar and its new addition – the great old gash from coming off his bike. Cuddy drew a sickening breath as she saw the scar, it was a reminder of how House had lost everything he had in life…except his life, just over 7 years ago.
She averted her eyes to his bruised right ankle, which, in the light of the ambulance, looked very much broken and not just fractured. "You are gonna be so pissed when you wake up" she chuckled softly to him; the last thing he needed was her getting hysterical on him, not now they were almost safe, so she continued to talk to him for the entire journey in her soothing tones.
By the time they arrived at Monmouth Medical Centre, Cuddy was boring House with her knowledge of the hospital; she smiled, knowing that if House were able to, he'd be telling her that she has no life out of work...and he'd be right.
When the doors to the ambulance swung open the first person Cuddy saw was Wilson, "How did you get here so fast?" she asked, clearly surprised to see him.
"Cop car can race anyone…plus the fact that its dead at 3am on a Saturday morning probably helped…" he grinned as he helped her out of the ambulance, "How's he doing?"
"No change – they should be taking him to surgery now" she said as she was ushered out of the way by the EMT's who were wheeling House into the hospital's emergency entrance.
"I'll go and find his surgeon, got to give him the right facts – don't want him lopping off his leg while he's out, that would really piss him off!" Wilson joked bitterly, "Will you be ok?"
"Sure, come and find me when he's sorted" Cuddy said whilst she was being lowered into a wheelchair by a nurse.
With that Wilson sprinted off to find House's surgeon.
House could feel the gurney being wheeled along a smooth surface before stopping abruptly. He willed his eyes to open but it wasn't happening – too much pain, so he contented just to listen for clues as to where he was. He felt his arm being lifted up and held in place before the I.V from the ambulance was pulled out, causing him to flinch. Big mistake, the person holding his arm the proceeded to check his state of consciousness with the brightest penlight in the world – it burned into each eye when shone into them and he groaned painfully in a request for whoever was doing it to 'get the fuck off!' It didn't work; the person seemed to want to talk to him…'how nice' he thought 'trying to make fucking friends!'
"Can you tell me your name?" the irritating person said in an incredibly annoying, slow voice.
"No" House moaned.
"Oh…ok"
House heard the person walk away and speak to someone else, he caught the tail end of the conversation,
"Just give him the damn anaesthetic!"
"b-but he didn't know who he was!" the annoying person stammered.
"Of course he knows who he is – he doesn't know you though so why would he want to tell you who he is?" the other voice boomed
House heard footsteps come over to him and felt the wash of emptiness flood over him as the anaesthetic was injected into his I.V line, 'thank you' he thought before he drifted off, 'obviously someone after my own heart!'