I don't own anything that belongs or is related to House M.D., just here to write a fic about it :) Hope you all like it, there is more to come! A little view into House's mind when he isn't working…more chapters will be uploaded but in the mean time PLEASE review and give me some feedback! Thanks!
"Should we wake him?"
"I don't know. Foreman?"
"Chase, you do it."
"No way! Cameron, he likes you, you do it."
"You guys are such-"
House cracked one eye open, "When you girls are done yammering, you can wake me up like normal adults would."
"Ah, House," Foreman sighed, "so glad to see you cheery this morning."
"When am I never not a warm welcoming guy when three children decide to wake me up in the middle of the night?" House raised a sarcastic brow at Foreman.
"House, we got a new case," Chase held up a manila folder in his hands bursting apart with patient files, x-rays, CT scans, and more goodies.
"This couldn't wait till the morning?" House was perfectly comfortable in his reclining chair in his office with the lights off and the door closed.
"It could," Cameron said drily, "but the patient would die by then, so I can call up the coroner and have a table ready if you'd like."
"Oh," Greg smiled a little, "Cameron's a little testy today, isn't she?"
She rolled her eyes, "Dr. House, would you please take a moment to have a look at the patient's chart. She came in complaining of back pain last week and was brought in earlier today by the paramedics after collapsing at her yoga studio today when her legs suddenly went paralyzed." Cameron held the patient files tauntingly in front of House whom she knew couldn't resist a good juicy case like this one.
Greg was intrigued, definitely, but he was so tired. He had just finished a haggling case a day ago and he had barely got any sleep after a young girl kept bleeding from her orifices randomly, day and night. It took him a few days to solve it with Cuddy breathing down his neck, Wilson coming to him with relationship problems/advice, and his nagging apprentices relentlessly bugging his brains out. The young girl was eventually diagnosed but it took days and that meant complaining residents and no sleep for Dr. House. His leg pain was flaring up excessively these last few days too. It just wasn't a good time for him and now it was nighttime at the hospital, a quiet and nice interval for House in which he could enjoy without the constant whines of his-
"House?!"
"Alright, alright!" He put his hands in the air in a gesture of mock surrender, "Don't shoot, officers," he snatched the patient file from Allison's hand.
"Thank you."
"Yeah," House shuffled through the papers in his chair, "don't get too excited."
"So, what do you think it is?" Chase cocked his head.
"Well, Chase, if you gave me a chance to read it then maybe I could figure it out, yeah?"
Chase shut his mouth but huffed irritatedly.
"Okay, patient complains of back pain, no family history of scoliosis or osteoporosis. What do we do first?"
"Put her on pain medication," Chase spoke up.
"Before that," House waited.
"Extract spinal fluid and examine results," Cameron interjected.
"Nope," House looked to the ceiling, "any day now, kids."
"Localize the pain," Foreman smirked smugly as House nodded to his resident.
"Good job, Foreman, you two can learn a little from him," he eyed Chase and Cameron, "Before you run all the painful tests, you need to localize pain. Don't think too fancy, always refer to the basics, check for tumors or displaced disks. Chase, run an MRI, Cameron get an epiduroscopy ready right after."
Cameron smiled and Chase followed her out the door, both revived with a new sense of purpose and energy.
"What do you want me to do?" Foreman looked at him passively.
"Foreman, ah, of course! Grab my cane will you?" he nodded his head towards his brown cane resting on the glass door.
His resident glared at him, "Are you kidding me?"
"Um, no," House shook his head, "I'm crippled, remember?"
"House, you can still walk."
"Didn't you learn in your miserable years of medical school that I shouldn't strain my injuries?" House raised a bemused eyebrow.
"Didn't anyone tell you that being a Chief of Department doesn't mean you need to be a pain in the-" Foreman mumbled under his breath.
"Foreman, you do know I have direct contact with Dean of Medicine, Lisa Cuddy, who does sign your paychecks."
House smiled widely as his resident brought over his brown, circular cane and he eagerly picked it up from his hand. Greg pushed himself up out of his chair and gradually had his weight resting upon the supportive cane. His leg pain flared up more than usual and he grimaced. Foreman must've seen his expression and his eyes narrowed, judging whether his attending was faking or actually feeling.
"Look," House stopped in his tracks, "I know I'm pretty, but it's rude to stare."
Foreman shook his head and opened the door for House whose tall form lumbered through and out into the break room. He walked over to his white board and pulled open the cap on his expo marker.
"Okay, seriously, House, what do you want me to do?" Foreman put his hands on his hips.
"Patient history," House briefly looked over his shoulder, "I need it very detailed. There are millions of ways she could've injured her back throughout a day and I need to know them all. Go."
Foreman shook his head, "No."
"No?" House scrunched up his face and looked at his resident with slight irritation, "What do you mean 'no?'"
"Dr. House, you know that I'm the best resident out of us all, I'm the most objective. Cameron's too emotional and Chase is too soft. Why did you send those two ding-dongs out there doing real doctor work when I can do that twice as fast and five times as effective?"
"You said it, Foreman," House turned back to his white board, "you're the most "objective" out of all you ding-dongs. You can get good information out of the patient that Cameron and Chase cannot, they'll miss something. Cameron will probably cry with the patient and Chase will leave early for an extended lunch break. This needs to be thorough, it's crucial."
"Then why can't you do it?" Foreman furrowed his brows.
"Cause I don't want to," House turned around and sipped his coffee, "now go, you… ding-dong."
Foreman's white lab coat trailed behind him as he turned around and left Greg's office. When he was out of sight, House immediately let his leg buckle underneath him and he barely limped over to one of the chairs at the table. He looked around confused and slightly wary. What's going on?
Why couldn't things just be normal for House? Of course, the man who lived for playing sports and working out would get a leg injury that would cripple him forever. Now he was in his hospital, Princeton Plainsboro, fighting off his addiction to Vicodin with unsolvable patient cases. Life couldn't get any better, but these periodic leg flares just topped the cake. He sighed and closed his eyes as the darkness of night dimmed the room he sat in.
Doctor James Wilson was passing by the familiar hallway he knew his best friend Greg House worked in. It was after hours and the crew was probably gone, but he was surprised to see House sitting alone in dim light at the long table where he and his residents consulted their puzzling cases. Every once in a while, Wilson would drop in from Oncology and help piece a puzzle or two together. He definitely couldn't do what Greg could but it did excite him a little to see these impossible cases unravel before his eyes. If there was one thing that Wilson knew while working with House was it was almost NEVER Lupus.
He tapped a knuckle against the glass door of the Infectious Diseases office but House didn't move. Wilson narrowed his eyes and silently opened the door, his nice shoes moving soundlessly across the carpet. The oncologist stood a few feet away from Dr. House and observed. The glass door slid shut and the hallway only had a few people milling around it. He couldn't believe his eyes, his best friend actually looked peaceful. That rough, sarcastic, craggy exterior that he always put up was stripped down to reveal a true, good man blinded by the pain of his life. Wilson actually felt for him, House never slept at work like this. Sure he napped here and there but never this exhausted, bone-tired sleep that would conk you out for hours. The greying hair on House's head was slightly ruffled, his shoulders were slumped forward, his chin was slightly down, his blue eyes closed, his lips unmoving, his pale grey suit jacket and light blue button down here slightly wrinkled and his brown cane rested against the large table top.
"House," Wilson called, "hey, Greg."
The Infectious Disease Department Chief jumped awake. He looked around with his blue eyes and then turned them to his friend with mild annoyance, "Wilson? What, us in the same apartment not good enough for you anymore you have to come to my office to watch me sleep?"
James rolled his eyes in amusement, "House, what are you doing here this late?"
"I'm working a case."
"Clearly."
"I just had my three 'ding-dongs' go start a few tests for me," House stared at him.
"Ding-dongs?"
"Infectious Disease jokes," Greg rolled his eyes, "you wouldn't understand."
"Whose the patient?" Wilson leaned against the table, his voice filled with genuine curiosity.
"Complaining of back pain last week and came in today with leg paralysis with no history of osteoporosis or scoliosis."
"Could be a tumor?" Wilson shrugged.
"Look, James, I know that you enjoy having your Oncology Department beds filled with little sick people, you're a very disturbed man," House nodded his head when Wilson laughed at his joke, "Chase is running an MRI, results should be back in a little bit."
"Cameron?"
"Epiduroscopy."
"So," Wilson trailed his hand over the table top, "how is Allison lately?"
"Oh no," House looked at Wilson with large, irritated eyes, "don't start."
"House, she's a fine young woman and she is somewhat attracted to you in a….weird way, but that's the closest thing you've had to a relationship in years!"
"Wilson, we're just coworkers, I'm her boss."
"That's never stopped anybody," the oncologist protested.
"Certainly not you," Greg looked James up and down who turned bright red.
"Look, all I'm saying is that she could be very good for you."
"'For' me or 'to' me?" House raised a tentative brow.
"Not like that," Wilson shuddered, "God, no. Baby steps first, please, or you'll scare her off."
"I am not looking for any sort of relationship right now," Greg stated, "I have my job, my music, and-"
"You're Vicodin?" Wilson raised an orange pill bottle in front of his friend questioningly.
"I don't have time for this either," Greg swiveled around in his chair, "don't you have patients?"
"Already covered them, I was going to go out with the Mrs. later this evening," Wilson smiled, "try and work things out, maybe move back in."
"Which one?"
"Ha-ha," Wilson laughed drily, "very funny."
"How would I be a true friend if I wasn't honest?" Greg smiled, "Well, time for me to go check on the kids."
"I get off in about an hour, can I come with?" Wilson perked up.
"What? You need some action right now in case you don't get some tonight?" House was on fire today.
"Keep it up, House, you're so mature."
Wilson stood up waiting for him but Greg hesitated. He took a few more Vicodin earlier but was his leg pain completely gone?
"House?" A look of concern crossed Wilson's face, "Are you alright?"
"Fine," He placed his cane tip against the floor and pushed himself up. No pain. Good.
House, with a little more confidence, strode across the room and stepped out the door. Wilson followed him, having to quicken his gait to keep up with the speeding doctor.
They both stepped into the elevator and the much taller House towered over the shorter Wilson. Greg rested his head against the cool metal of the elevator, his exhaustion coming over him once again. He wanted to go home, spread out on the couch, and play his piano music CD until he slept. House felt himself sliding and shot his eyes open to straight himself before he fell.
"You're tired," commented Wilson who was looking at him fixedly.
"Mind your own business, will ya?" House furrowed his brows.
"When's the last time you got a good night's sleep?"
"Why do you care?"
"House," scoffed James, "I know you're probably not used to people actually taking an interest in you, but I've been your best friend for years now. You know that I do care about you. So I'm asking because I get concerned-"
"You get concerned?"
"Yes, I get concerned! Damn it, House," Wilson shook his head, "So, I'll ask you again, when's the last time you got a full night of sleep?"
There was a pause filled with silence, "6 days."
James immediately looked to his fellow Department Head, "What!?"
"Hey, you asked."
"Greg, why are you even here? You should be at home resting."
"Duty calls," House lumbered out of the sliding elevator doors, "Cameron, Chase, Foreman! What do we got!" He called to his three residents huddled together like schoolgirls by the patient's bedroom.
"Full leg paralysis," Cameron spoke softly, "she can't move a muscle in the lower half of her body."
House perked his head up at the sound of a high pitched whining, "What the hell is that?"
"Let's just say she's not taking it so well," Chase loosened his tie.
Greg's eyes widened and he looked at the patient room they were standing outside of. The doors were closed but it sounded like there was a dying moose on the inside. Even Wilson cocked his head in surprise.
"That god-awful sound is her," House pointed to the closed door.
Foreman nodded gravely.
He looked around to finally see all the nurses, doctors, patients, and visitors looking at each other in annoyance and shock at the muffled cries coming from behind the door.
"Hold this," House pushed his cane against Chase's chest and he took out his pill capsule, shook three of them into his hand, and swallowed them dry.
"You're going in there alone?" Wilson looked at him, baffled.
"Unarmed?" Foreman muttered.
Cameron and Chase snickered. House braced himself, opened the door, and found a woman crying (more like screaming) on her hospital bed.
"Hey, hey! HEY!" shouted the doctor, "shut up, will you?! You'll wake up people in comas if you keep going on like this!"
She sniffled loudly and looked at House with red, bleary eyes, "Who-who are you?"
"I'm your doctor, Dr. House," he did a little jazz hands, "ta-da."
The patient looked him up and down with a blank, red face then started to cry again. House rolled his eyes and closed the door on Wilson, Cameron, Foreman, and Chase standing in the doorway.
"Why are you crying? Crying isn't going to bring back the feeling in your legs. The more you cry, the more dehydrated your body gets and the more problems I have to deal with," House stood tall as a statue.
"Oh, this is great-just perfect!" she cried and put her head in her hands, "Here I am, I can't move my legs and they send you! A cripple! Is this some kind of cruel joke?!" she screamed, "Do they want me to recover or do they want me to be shown the cold, sick truth of reality!"
"Hey, House, everything okay?" Wilson's muffled voice was heard and a knock.
By this point Greg was hurting, exhausted, offended, and beyond annoyed.
"Hey, hey! Listen here, cupcake!" House shouted, "You think you've got the short end of the stick? Ha! You're lucky you still remember the way running, jumping, swimming, stretching feels like. I wake up every day hoping for that moment when I can feel no pain any more, when I can walk freely without having to live off pain pills and a cane for the rest of my life. So don't even start on your complaints because I live my life everyday-not crying about it-but living with it. Wipe those tears off your face and do something about it because you at least have a possibility of keeping the feeling in your legs if I decide to get through with you."
House opened up his pill capsule in front of the shocked face of his patient, took two more Vicodin and slammed the door shut behind him.
