AB+

He knew it was a dream, but he couldn't wake up. More importantly, he was out of control, unable to make the dream go the direction he wanted it to go. His stomach turned and he began to sweat as he realized that he was powerless to do anything but go where his overactive brain was dragging him. And right now it was dragging him to the cafeteria at Princeton Plainsboro. As he glided past the lunch crowd, he could hear their thoughts, see through their eyes, feel what they felt. Overwhelmed by the plethora of emotions and physical pain that each human carried on a daily basis, he was glad to see that he was being dragged into his own body, currently sitting in a booth with a plate of food in front of him. It struck him that this scene was familiar, as if he'd already lived through it. Then he realized that this was his lunch from several months ago. If he was right then Cuddy should be—yes, here she was, walking at a fast clip towards him.

As Cuddy approached he took a long look. It had been a long time since he'd really looked at her with her tight skirt fitting even tighter than usual, the low cut blouse revealing lazy breasts that were long past their pert days. She bent over, probably to try and entice him, but he was no longer interested in those breasts, that ass, her needs. It had been her needs that had finally drove a nail in the coffin or their relationship. She needed him to be on time, to go to donor dinners, be a father to her child, tell her the truth, sing her praises, assuage her ego, not be an ass in front of important people (and they all seemed to be important for one reason or another.) All he really needed was five minutes on top, a bit of conversation during dinner, company to take the edge off the loneliness of life and someone to take care of him on a bad day.

"I'd appreciate it if you would bring my things to work. You promised, but, as usual, you don't follow through on your promises."

"I'll add that to my list."

"List?"

"When we broke up, didn't you say that you could list a thousand reasons why we shouldn't be together?"

She clenched her jaw and shook her head. "Tomorrow, House."

As she marched off he discovered that he was more disturbed by the death of their relationship than he had originally thought. But, it didn't have anything to do with losing Cuddy, it was more the fact that he was back to square one—alone at nights, captive to his own brilliance and brutal logic, longing for a warm body to curl up next to. It was the companionship he missed.

House felt his body being pulled through a vortex, his stomach seeming to go before he did. When he had passed through, he was sitting on the examination table waiting for Wyman Harcort. It was a repeat of what he'd been through that very morning. Harcort was a Hepatologist and a rather blunt one at that. He breezed into the exam room, his lab coat flying back, his tie on crooked and his hair clearly the victim of wearing a ski cap too long.

"Your liver is shot. You need a new one." He announced without so much as a hello.

House raised an eyebrow. He was shocked, but not surprised. He thought he might get lucky after the torment he went through to kick the Vicodin. But all his work had been too late, this was his payback… his liver was failing.

"You have acute liver failure, Fuliminant Hepatic Failure from your Vicodin Abuse. Bottom line, you need a new liver."

"New liver? What's the chance of that with my past addiction?"

"You'll have to be approved by UNOS just to go on the list. But even then, there are 15,000 people on the list and only 4,500 cadaver livers available each year. Not good odds, especially with your past infarction and drug abuse. Do you have a brother or sister who could be a live donor? Because you're AB positive, you can get a liver from just about any blood type although AB is by far your best opportunity for a successful transplant."

House shook his head. "Only child."

"Cousins?"

"One that's a blood relative, but he's got diabetes."

"Hmmm. Well, we need to talk to the transplant committee to get you on the list."

"Great. Just great." House said with a great deal of sarcasm and cynicism.

Now House was standing outside the exam room. It occurred to him that maybe it was time for his life to come to its unnatural conclusion. There was no one he cared enough about to live for, no lover, no wife, no child. There wasn't really a reason why he should get a liver over some guy with a wife and kids. Sure, he saved lives, but others created them…whose life was worth more?

House wanted a drink but quickly realized it was the last thing he needed or should have. What the hell, if I'm going to die, then I might as well have a drink. He went back to his office and poured himself a nice Glenmorangie and sipped it over the next hour before he slipped into this strange slumber that had taken him on this strange journey through his past and present.

The blinding light came and he felt himself being dragged and then free floating towards something, a cool breeze, a bright sky, a calm mountain lake. Sitting next to him was a little girl in strawberry red shorts, a pink and white top and a floppy hat. He had a feeling that he knew her, no, more than that-that he needed to protect her, take care of her, love her. She was very pretty with her little features, reddish brown hair and freckled nose and arms that he knew were inherited from her mother. He knew instinctively that she was very precocious, turning her little nose up in the air to look him in the eyes. Her big, curious eyes were a robin blue with light brown eyelashes outlining them.

"Daddy? Why do we have to be quiet?"

"So we won't scare the deer over there."

She snapped her head around. Her voice high and excited queried, "Where?"

He pointed just in time for her to see several does and a buck jump and run away.

"Daddy! A deer, a deer! We need to tell Mommy!"

"Okay, Pumpkin." He stood and began to follow her as she ran towards a small cabin only a hundred yards away. He grinned as he saw the woman with the petite frame come out the door and stand, her freckled hands on her hips, well shaped legs sticking out of her cutoffs topped by a faded plaid shirt he used to own and brandishing a slightly lopsided grin when she saw the two of them walking towards her.

"Mommy, Mommy, deer, deer!"

The pretty woman with blond hair and freckles looked at House and then at the little girl. "Where?"

The little girl turned and pointed in the direction of the long gone herd of deer. "Over there."

"Well, that's very cool."

House walked up behind the woman, his cane giving him the support up the hill that he needed. He gave her round tush a little pat and a big pinch causing her to squeal.

She narrowed her grey eyes at him and asked under her breath, "Why is the whiskey out?"

House sighed and rolled his eyes at the same time. "It's not what you think. Behind the whiskey bottle was the money I hid the last time we were up here. You know-our mad money."

She refused to change her expression, still skeptical.

He threw his hands up in exasperation. "I wouldn't do anything to hurt your precious liver."

She cocked her head and let out a sigh. "You better not. You paid in spades for that."

They both smiled at the inside joke.

She bent over and whispered to the little girl, "Time for you to take a nap, pumpkin—" she turned to face him, "And for you to get a shower."

House grinned. Shower was code for sex.

They all went upstairs, the girls peeling off to the left, House to the right. He could hear the woman reading a story to the little girl. Fifteen minutes later while standing in the shower, House heard the shower curtain slip open and close and two hands reach around his chest, her palms covering his pecs, her body leaning into his. He could feel her round breasts pressing into his back, feel her hand as it traced the scar along the bottom of his ribs, where the surgery had been. Turning, he looked down and felt an overwhelming love for this woman. Taking his finger, he ran it along the scar below her rib cage. He bent down as she rose up to kiss, his hand now cupping her breast.

Suddenly he was awake, sprawled in the chair in his office with a slight stiffy.

"Crap! Crap!" He felt frustrated and pissed. Just when he was going to get some shower action with a hot woman he wakes up. What the …?

House looked at the decanter of whiskey and poured himself another drink. Just as he raised it to his lips he paused, remembered the little girl in the strawberry shorts and smiled. He put the drink back on the table, stood up and packed up his back pack. As he turned off his computer he remembered that he had a dentist appointment in the morning and that he should leave a note for his team…nah, let them guess where I'm at.

In the morning, House brushed his teeth at little longer than usual and then grabbed his helmet. It had rained, but the sky had cleared and he was dying to get back on his bike after a long winter. The air was crisp and clear and a little on the cool side. He kicked the stand and started the engine, releasing the clutch and taking off. The feel of the engine between his legs was almost as good as a hard on. The power and danger mixed together to make him feel alive, really alive.

He turned right on Nassau, heading east towards his dentist's office. The traffic was spotty, heavy around the major intersections and light on the in between's. He twisted the gas and the bike roared forward, the wind beating against his chest, the roar of the motorcycle in his ears. He checked the speedometer—61 in a 45 mph zone. He knew it was the perfect place for a speed trap so he made a conscious effort to slow it down. Just as he looked up, he cut back on the throttle only to feel his heart jump into his throat. The dog came at him from the front aiming for the tire. House tried to turn away but the bike slid sideways on a puddle taking him with it. Hitting the curb, he was thrown forward towards a stand of trees. Luckily he fell short into a large woodsy bush. The impact was still hard enough to crack his rib and send a branch through his inner thigh where the scar was.

House looked down and realized from the bright blood flowing down his thigh into the ground that he knicked the femoral artery. Crap! He took his jacket off and ripped his sleeve into strips, tying one around his thigh before slipping into unconsciousness.

"House, House. You've been in an accident! Chase is taking you into surgery to repair your femoral artery. House, can you hear me?"

House could hear Wilson, but had no desire to acknowledge the obvious. Of course he was going to have to have surgery. It was beginning to hurt. They must have given him platelets or blood. Blood? He'd lost a lot of blood. They wouldn't have enough AB+ at PPTH for his surgery…but he was the universal receiver, they probably used O negative.

"House? House?" It was Chase and there was a bright light shining in his eye. He tried to concentrate on Chase's voice, but it wasn't going well…his mind was still a fog from the anesthesia.

"Damn dog." He managed to croak without opening his eyes.

There was a collective sigh from several people in the room.

"I'd say he's going to make a full recovery." Chase announced.

"Good." Thirteen said.

"Great, I'm going home." House recognized Foreman's voice.

"Oh, I'm so relieved."

House didn't recognize the woman's voice.

"I'm going to go home, but could you please call me and let me know how he is tomorrow- if he's up for visitors?"

The same female voice.

"Sure." Wilson said. "Thanks for giving blood."

"Oh, it was the least I could do."

House heard the door open and close. He finally opened his eyes to let a slit of light in. "Who was that?"

Wilson bent over to listen "I'll tell you tomorrow. You just try and get some sleep now."

House had to admit that he wasn't in the mood for talking, that his body was slipping into sleep. He gave Wilson a weak nod and let his mind drift off.

"I need something more than Aspirin."

"House, we can't risk giving you Vicodin with your liver." Chase said, his hands on his hips as he checked the monitor.

"I'm not going to hallucinate, my liver's shot and I'm in pain…lots of it."

Chase nodded. "I know it hurts, it's the same leg as your infarction, but…"

"No buts…give me morphine if you have to."

Chase took a key out from his pocket and went over to a dispenser. "Morphine today, but tomorrow back to aspirin."

Wilson walked in with Cuddy. "Ah, you're awake. How's the leg?"

"I need Morphine." House growled.

"Of course you do." Cuddy said sarcastically.

"Yes, I fucking do!"

Chase sighed and told the other two, "I'm setting it up now."

Suddenly a cell phone started playing, I Whip My Hair. Wilson reached into his pocket and pulled out the phone. "Hello? Oh, yes, yes…I'd give him a few hours. Sure, after lunch."

House gave him a look to ask who it was.

"That was the woman from yesterday. Her dog heard your motorcycle and pulled away from her."

"Her dog?"

Wilson nodded.

"What the hell is she doing coming here?"

Wilson shrugged. "She feels guilty."

"I don't care if she's Angelina Jolie, I don't want to see her."

"Hey, she gave you a full pint of blood."

"So?"

"AB+, she's AB+. She gave you a whole pint! "

"Christ and so you invited this loser with the dog to come see me?"

"She's not a loser. Her name is—"

"Loser! Her name is Loser!"

"House, she was very concerned, very sorry. She gave you a pint of blood…which you needed."

"Which I wouldn't have needed if she hadn't been a loser with a dog that she couldn't keep on a leash."

"Fine, I'll call her back and tell her not to come." Wilson took the cell phone out of his pocket and started dialing, but no one picked up. "I'll have to try her later."

After everyone left, House took another nap until he was rudely awakened so that he could eat. House ate his lunch and was reading his new NJM when the door slid open. Without looking up he put the magazine down and threw back the sheet on the bed. "Great….I need to take a crap, help me to the toilet." He finally looked up to see a stunned woman standing with a purse and a plate of cookies, her mouth opened in horror. It took a second but he realized that she looked familiar.

"I'll just put my purse down…" She rushed over to the chair setting her purse and plate down, then ran to his side putting her arm under his to prop him up as they walked. Turning her head up she gave him a smile, the same smile she had given him in the shower. "Dr. House? Are you okay? You look a little pale."

"Oh crap." He said mostly to himself. "AB+. You're the woman with the dog, right?"

She nodded.

He gave her a sly grin. "Have you ever thought about giving a stranger half your liver in exchange for a beautiful baby girl?"

"What?"

The End

God bless us, every one. Merry Christmas!