Anticoagulation

Author: Lyssanick

Rating: PG/PG-13

Genre: Drama/Gen/Romance, future ensemble, not overtly romantic

Pairings: Chase/Cameron, House/Cuddy

Spoilers: Nothing specific, though references to canon do happen.

Disclaimer: My driver's license does not say David Shore, therefore, I don't own House, MD, or any recognizable characters. I also don't own the songs whose lyrics make up the chapter titles.

Summary: Clot: noun 1.) A semisolid mass, as of blood; 2.) An idiot or blockhead; 3.) A small group of people verb 1.) To cause to become blocked or obscured. A health scare forces some necessary growth. Future.

Notes: My first multi-chapter House story, started out of pure boredom leading to endless "What if" questions. It's partially inspired by House and Wilson's conversation in "Half-Wit," where Wilson tells House that he needs to start appreciating the people that care for him. It takes place in the far, far future, and includes some new characters, but don't worry: Everything will be explained. It will be a little slow-moving (and probably slow-posting) and span several genres, but constructive criticism and feedback will make my feet move faster.

House

No, I get by with a little help from my friends

Mm, I get high with a little help from my friends

Mm, Gonna try with a little help from my friends

The Beatles "A Little Help from my Friends"

The first thing he heard was the steady beeping. The second thing he heard was a rustle of paper. He shifted, hoping whoever was in the room would leave. No such luck.

"House? You awake? I think you're faking…I can read an EEG, you know."

Cameron. She wasn't so easy to trick any more, and she rarely put up with much crap either, so he reluctantly opened his eyes. Everything looked watery, opaque; he was clearly lying in a hospital bed but had no idea why. Cameron, who wore a navy blue pantsuit and one of her plunging-neckline sweaters under her labcoat , looked hazy and unsubstantial. He could, however, see that she had her I'm a Professional Doctor face on.

"Good. You're awake. Don't try and talk, House. Blink if you can understand me."

He blinked. Once. God, his eyes hurt. His skin felt taut, and sallow. He breathed deeply before realizing that was impossible. The room was quiet, bluish; he couldn't hear the nurses' station.

"Okay, don't freak. Or talk." She leaned over and flashed a penlight in his eyes. "Good. You collapsed in Diagnostics two days ago. Embolic stroke, a clot that originated around your kidneys broke off. It hit in your left spinocerebellum, Chase and Foreman found it in a CT. You had cerebral ischemia, lasting about two minutes. You pitched forward and hit your head, leading to a small subdural bleed, which was enough to send you into a coma and we had you intubated through this morning, when we switched you to oxygen. You were put on anticoagulants immediately and there doesn't seem to be any chance of recurrence. We repaired the bleed, which wasn't that serious, all things considered, but there was some swelling. The EEG showed normal brain wave function. Don't try and talk yet, you're still sore from the intubation. Hands out in front, eyes closed."

He complied, and Cameron visibly released a sigh. "Thank God, House." She squeezed his arm. "We'll do nerve testing later, let me finish telling you everything first. Your heart rate and BP were a high but stabilized, though you really should have told someone you've been having blood-pressure issues. BUt we got you to the ICU quickly, there didn't seem to be any complications from any of your other injuries, including the 15 or so times you've nearly killed yourself." He rolled his eyes.

"Keep listening," she admonished, and then swallowed. " However, we did notice a decrease in liver and kidney functions, which is going to be monitored from here on out. There appears to be calcification around your hepatic and renal arteries, which is how the embolism began, and in your carotid artery as well. However, your decrease in liver function led to a decrease in coagulants, so they balanced each other out for a while so we didn't catch either. House, considering that you've been on statins since your first infarction … it's really not good that you've got buildup. Luckily, there doesn't appear to be atherosclerosis in your brain, yet." He hoped he wouldn't see another Cameron breakdown, but she kept it together very well.

"Chase will have the lifestyle-changes lecture with you later," she continued. "Besides painkillers—by the way, you're not allowed to self-monitor your morphine, Chase assigned a nurse to that—you're on Prozac and heparin and warfarin. We'll start easing you off the heparin soon. Chase is your attending physician. We've called Foreman back to New Jersey and he'll run some final tests to make sure function has been restored, but I think that can wait till tomorrow. I think we can say you're recovering." She flipped a page, then put the clipboard down. "Is there anything I can get you?"

"Where's Cuddy?" he rasped, wincing at the burn. His voice sounded dusty from disuse.

Cameron sighed. "She flew up as soon as I called her. She got here late Tuesday night—you passed out about forty-eight hours ago exactly— and she was here from Tuesday night till this morning at about 10, when Wilson finally convinced her to go get some sleep. It's a little after five right now. I'll give her and Wilson a call, okay?"

He nodded. He felt like he'd been pancaked by a truck. "I really think you should sleep right now—you're actually really, really drugged up. We'll give you a sedative tonight and ease you off in the morning. I'm so glad you woke up though." He looked up and saw how exhausted she looked. Perpetually pretty Cameron had aged, her face sagging gently, crows feet pulling at her eyes, wrinkles softening her jawline. She was still playing musical chairs with her hair color, was currently trying a light auburn that kept her youthful-looking enough for 56.

"House? House is awake!" Rocco rushed into his view.

"Rock, step back honey. House needs his rest," Cameron scolded, but she stroked her son's back reassuringly. "But yes, he's up. He understood everything so far, and he spoke. So you're okay, House is still here."

Relief flooded Rocco's face; House was reminded of bursting dams. Cameron turned toward him and smiled. "For such a misanthrope, you've certainly gotten a lot of attention. Pretty much every fellow that stayed for a year sent flowers or even stopped by, Elizabeth's been cutting class these last two days, Sophie and Claire have slept in chairs, and this one has come both evenings after school and we had to drag him home," she absentmindedly played with her son's scruffy blonde hair. "Rocco, why don't you grab your things and tell your dad House is up?"

He nodded, but turned to House first. "I'm glad you woke up, House," he said, and House felt a pang at his honesty. Rocco was the spitting image of his father, all longish hair and sappy eyes, and he was an innocent, naïve 12-year-old kid. Rocco could get to him in ways that not even his three older sisters could, and they had latched onto House from a young age and demanded and received attention. Rocco squeezed House's forearm before trotting out to find his father.

"After Foreman looks at you I'm getting PT and OT in here tomorrow. You're still relatively young, you know, and the stroke wasn't that bad. But the atherosclerosis is worrisome."

"And totally unexpected," he snarked. The noise hurt and didn't seem to be coming from his vocal cords, so he stopped talking.

She smiled wanly. "I'm glad you have your sense of humor back. For some reason we all missed it."

Rocco reentered, carrying a backpack and followed by his father and three sisters. "House, good, you're up." Chase said, his relief evident as well. He wore pale green scrubs and a labcoat, a surgical cap covering his longish silver hair.

"Hey, House."

"How're you feeling?"

"How's your head? Just nod, don't try and speak," the three Cameron-Chase sisters crowded next to his bed, resembling a clutch of nervous mother hens. Sophie kept twiddling her cross necklace. Claire kept biting her nails and avoiding eye contact. Elizabeth appeared to be closely scrutinizing him. He rolled his eyes.

"Rocco, I said to get your dad," Cameron said.

"We were in Dad's office," Elizabeth said hastily, breaking eye contact with House and looking at her mother. "We wanted to see House."

"Okay, well, now that you can all see House is awake, I need you four to leave. There shouldn't be that many people in here, anyways, or the nurses'll get mad," all three daughters scoffed, but their mother kept talking. "Elizabeth, call Cuddy and Wilson. They're at Wilson's. Ask them to come in tonight but to stop at House's and pick up some clothes and things. Sophie, tell the nurses that House woke and he's not to administer his own morphine, and they need to check on him a lot. Find that list we made, too, please, of everyone who's sent stuff and stopped by in the last two days. Claire, call Dr. Foreman and tell him House woke up but is still pretty drugged, and that initial signs look good. Then everyone really, really needs to get their bags and stuff. Rocco… make sure your sisters do their jobs." The four kids—though, to be fair, Elizabeth was a junior in college and the twins were seniors in high school and so didn't really count as kids anymore—nodded at their mother's orders and left.

"You turn your daughters into employees and turn my patient care into some sort of doctors' reunion with everyone I used to work with? And appointing yourselves my doctors? And then putting me in a room without a television but filled with flowers? Wow, I'm so glad to know that people care." Finally, his voice felt like it was inching toward normality.

Chase turned to Cameron. "I don't think we're going to have to worry about Broca's area damage."

She smiled and shook her head. "Two reasons: All the other doctors are scared of you. And, from your end, we're the only doctors left practicing here that you trained, which means we're the only ones you're going to trust. Same with Foreman, and Kutner, who came by yesterday and volunteered to run your rehab. And also, for some reason, our children adore you."

"They really should know better by now," House muttered. He started testing his arms, his legs, but Chase immediately moved to stop him.

"Don't strain yourself, not till we get Foreman back here to look at you," he said sternly. It must have been the fog of coming out of a coma, but House swore that Chase sounded more Australian today than he had in two decades. "Try it again and I'll sedate you."

"Power-tripper," House muttered, but settled back again. His head felt too thick to come up with better comebacks.

"Yeah, try not to speak so much, either." Chase said and turned to Cameron. "You check his pupils?"

She nodded. "Response rates were good. Dilation was good, too. Little jaundiced, though."

Elizabeth popped her head in. "I called Cuddy and Wilson. Cuddy was still sleeping, so Wilson was going to wake her up and then run to House's to pick some stuff up, and then they'll be in."

"Good," Cameron nodded. "Get your stuff, get ready to go home. Rocco has basketball practice at six so I need to get him home and ready. And you should probably go back on a local tonight, since House is up. Class tomorrow."

She shook her head. "I have all my books, and I don't have classes on Friday," she pointed out. "I'll stay through Sunday. I haven't been home in weeks, and a weekend here would be nice." The last few days, since her mother had called and said, "Now don't freak" had been a haze of adrenaline, a few days in her old bed would probably do her good.

Her mother rolled her eyes. "Did Sophie and Claire get a hold of Foreman and the nurses?" she asked.

Elizabeth nodded again. "Yeah, Foreman said he'd come in tomorrow morning, early, because he doesn't want the drugs interfering, and the nurses sound a little scared, but they're going to do it."

"Excellent, gullible nurses," House said. His voice felt more familiar.

"You realize Cuddy or Wilson will probably spend the night? No intimidating the nurses, or I'll just let Cuddy and Wilson give you sedatives as well," Chase said.

"How's your pain right now, House?" Cameron moved to take a look at the monitors on his right.

"He's fine, Cameron, look at the EEG," Chase looked at House sharply.

"Yeah, I'm really going to trust a doctor who doesn't know his wife's first name yet," House snarked right back. "It could use a little upping."

"You weren't injured in a way that could cause significant pain," Chase retorted.

"My head is wounded. Only morphine can help," he shot his most pitiful look at Elizabeth, who was probably now the most likely person in the room to cave now that Chase had told off Cameron.

She didn't, though, and shot him an annoyed look. "House, if I caved to that you wouldn't respect me anymore."

"Very true," he admitted.

"Okay, I really need to get Rocco to basketball. I'll take you three home as well. Chase, can you stay with House till Cuddy and Wilson get here?"

"Yeah, we'll be fine," he said. Just then, though, his pager went off. "Damn, nevermind. I need to get this," he said, moving toward the door.

"Elizabeth, are you okay staying with House for a little bit? Just till Cuddy and Wilson get here?" Cameron had never been great at nonverbal communication, and even House picked up on the fact that Cameron was worried that Elizabeth wouldn't be able to put up with House's crap.

Elizabeth shot her mother a perfect, annoyed look, which made House laugh. Damn. Not to be attempted again. "Mom," she said patiently. "My high-school graduation gift from him was him telling me that you took meth and booty-called Dad before you two started dating, and then you were friends-with-benefits for about a month. Trust me, I can handle post-coma House."

Chase and Cameron, who had been heading out the door, both turned around quickly enough to send a whip-crack of light through House's head. Cameron had her familiar swallowed-an-egg look and Chase had his seething I'm-a-father look. "Stroke victim, here," House said, wincing and ducking from any potential blow.

"Mom, Dad, that was three years ago. I'm fine. I'm not permanently scarred." She pushed blonde curls away from her face and knotted them into a hair tie. "Besides, someone needs to stay. And Dad, you like have an emergency."

Chase and Cameron exchanged looks, and Chase shrugged, then dashed off to deal with whatever emergency he'd been paged with. Chase oversaw surgery, critical care, emergency care, and diagnostic medicine, which had been combined since House's retirement two years ago, after Cuddy's decision to retire. The departments overlapped anyways, and ensured a smooth flow of new diagnostic cases. There were six diagnostic fellows now and two attendings, allowing Chase to focus his attention wherever he needed to. Basically, it broke down to four days running cases and supervising rotations in the ICU and ED, and the other three days of the week constantly filling out the paperwork. Though retired, House had stayed on as a consultant in Diagnostics, popping in for a few hours daily to bug Chase and, when that failed, to find Cameron and to harass her as well.

Cameron had become a full-time immunologist, with 9-to-5 hours so she could be around the kids as much as possible. She specialized in high-risk, difficult cases. She saw a lot of lupus and sarcoidosis. Beyond her doctoring duties, she was the head of Allergy, Immunology, and Rheumatology; oversaw all general clinical medicine; served on the board of directors; and was the hospital's vice-dean for research. These additional duties only fed her love of properly filed paperwork. House would sometimes visit her, but her cases were boring and she spent too much time doing administrative duties, which was even duller. She had noticed, however, that House's visits to her eighth-floor offices had become more frequent and cantankerous since Cuddy's decision to move to Naples (and his decision not to go too) six months ago.

Cameron finally nodded at her daughter, and said, "Take the twins' car home. Say hi to Cuddy and Wilson." She looked at House, "I'm glad you're up. We'll be back tomorrow morning."

"Night, Cameron."

Cameron left, and Elizabeth sat in the chair below the window and sighed. As soon as Chase and Cameron announced their engagement, House had known that two things would be true of the eventual offspring: They would have the worst temper tantrums, and they would be extremely attractive. Both came true four times.

Elizabeth bore a striking resemblance to Cameron, but her curls were golden and she had her father's eyes. Having been completely assured of House's affection since infancy, she was bold with him, threw crap right back at him, and refused to let herself feel belittled by him. She was less afraid of him than her parents still were. This preternatural strength—which all four kids had—had enchanted him since Elizabeth was young, and he had always immensely respected her and enjoyed her company. Not that he would ever verbalize that, of course.

"So, way to completely monopolize everyone's attention and freak everyone out again, only to pull through just fine," she said casually. He noticed that her eyes were tired and bloodshot and she was tapping her foot at a fast pace; she'd been drinking a lot of caffeine.

"You're the ones that choose to care. I'd much rather die alone."

She pulled a face, then continued, "Those flowers came from Taub, who would have come to visit but he's in California this week. Those are from Winslow and Leffler, who both came by. They're still both down at Penn. You need to stop sending good people there. Kutner and Mrs. Kutner—I can never remember her name and I always feel awful—came down too and brought the boys, who are still irrationally scared of you and seemed to think you'd wake up and start making scary faces. Downside of living in two hours away, I suppose. He wanted to be involved in your recovery too, but the distance is kind of a lot. The pictures are courtesy of Rebecca. Foreman got here Tuesday night, even if he spent the majority of it muttering about what a jackass you are. And Cuddy and Wilson are both freaking exhausted from pulling a two-day vigil, so be nice to them when they come. They were so tired that Leah practically forced them back to their place."

"Maybe if Cuddy hadn't moved to Naples she wouldn't feel so guilty."

"She begged you to come along, don't pull that crap," Elizabeth said. "Both of them have been worried sick."

"Both of them have overworked guilt complexes. Which is why they stuck around me in the first place. I feel fine, now. When can I pop this joint?"

"You're on bed rest and you haven't eaten in days. You're here for a while. Dad and Cuddy both think self-diagnosis isn't exactly the best thing right now," the sides of her mouth twitched involuntarily into a smile. "You need to see where your body's at," she added, more gently.

"You sound almost like a doctor, instead of someone whose parents are paying for some overeducated foreigners with pompous accents can teach her how to 'really read'."

She smiled. "The accents are really cute. That's what suckered me in."

"Seriously? English? Come on. I taught you how to read when you were three. The least you could do is put all of those German and French classes to use and read in another language. More impressive."

"A, you taught me how to memorize lists from Gray's Anatomy when I was three. You taught me how to read when I was four. B, I like traveling to France and Germany but not studying the languages. And C, I really like my classes. I think I'm going into book editing. I have an interview next week for an internship at a boutique publishing house."

"Last week you thought playwriting was a good career. And boutique publishing? So you can guide narcissistic pseudo-celebrities through publishing their memoirs: How I Realized I was an Alcoholic at 19, Because Mommy Enabled Me? Useless. You're throwing yourself away. What's next, window decorating at Barney's? Thank God for you your parents are rich doctors and you're hot." His tone was scathing; one that Elizabeth had had to learn to ignore at a young age.

"Thanks. Not at all creepy for someone pushing 70."

"A rich husband is probably within reach for you. Also, you bring it upon yourself. You can see your bra through that top. Do you wear that at school? Don't kids know the word 'slutty' these days?"

"We use it about as often as pervy old guy, yeah. And you're the one with a thin gown barely covering your equipment."

"Also, black bra? You've grown up, Elizabeth Cameron-Chase."

"And you haven't, House," Cuddy said from the doorway.

He tried to turn, but that didn't happen, so he waited until both Cuddy and Wilson came into view. "Hey! Neither have you. Red bra."

"How you keep pulling through things like this will never cease to amaze me," Cuddy said, grabbing the chart. "Seriously, House! A stroke! Atherosclerosis, liver issues, kidney issues. You could have cancer. It's amazing after all the times you've gotten close to killing yourself."

"Blah, blah, blah," House said carelessly. "You people are all supposed to be doctors; you're surprised I have liver and kidney issues? Except you," he turned toward Elizabeth, "you're only expected to know how to read."

Cuddy banged the chart on the end of the bed, signaling to House that this would be a Very Serious Talk. "Yes, and as a doctor I recommended years ago that you cut back on Vicodin and alcohol."

Elizabeth grabbed her purse and said, "You know, I actually need to get going. I'll let you guys have some time now."

"Thank you, Elizabeth," Cuddy said, her voice dropping and belying exhaustion. "How's Columbia, by the way?"

"Love it," she smiled. "Are you two going to be here the entire night? Dad's still around, but he got paged, and Mom headed home already."

Cuddy tossed a bag on House's bed, signifying they were there for the long haul. "Yep. Don't worry, tell your parents we'll take good care of the patient."

"Alright. Dad said to just call if you need permission to administer meds. He's not allowed to self-regulate."

"Good to know," Wilson said dryly, checking out the monitors. "Good night, Elizabeth. "

"Night guys. Night House, glad you're up," Elizabeth called, keys swinging as she left the room.

A chill descended on the room once Elizabeth left. Wilson tried to keep conversation going, but House's energy started to drain, putting a lag on the rest of the room. Cuddy, after yelling at House and making sure he was OK, suddenly couldn't bear looking him in the eye. Wilson finally stepped out to buy candy bars and call Leah, and House looked at Cuddy. "So, couldn't bear to be away?"

"Greg," she said, and suddenly looked even older than her 65 years, "I was, and still am, extremely worried about you. I still love you. And I am still furious with you."