Chapter One: Late for Work
House woke up to hear the phone ringing, again. He wished that Cuddy would stop ringing him about the damn speech. After a few more rings, it was obvious that she wasn't going to give in. House grabbed the phone, irritated. His leg hurt.
"What?" Came his reply. "I know you have feelings for me and calling me four times is sweet and all…"
"House, it's 10:34am! I don't care if you're sick or not, you're crawling in to do that speech for the students," Cuddy shot back, angrily. If House was in front of her, she'd probably be fuming and probably a little red in the cheeks. House snickered at the image. His leg gave an unusual sharp jab of pain which caught his attention.
"House?" Cuddy asked.
"Yeah, I'm coming." And with that, Cuddy muttered a "good" and hanged up.
The elevator made its familiar ding.
House limped in and stood next to Dr. Wilson who noticed his presence.
"You're here late," Dr. Wilson said with a sigh. " And you look like you woke up on the wrong side of the bed…"
"Crap."
"What?" Dr. Wilson asked.
"Feel like crap." House replied, and leaned against the wall of the elevator.
"Vogler's going to watch you like a hawk, you know," Dr. Wilson said as he looked at his friend, concerned. "Especially after that "speech" you did to the public…"
"Yeah," House replied, about to pop some Vicodin in his mouth but stopped. "He said something along the lines of 'I'll destroy you'"
The elevator made the ding again and opened up. Cuddy was waiting there with her arms folded. And boy, did she look furious!
"It's 11:52am, House." Cuddy said, glaring at House. "You're late."
"Whoops, sorry." House replied, sheepishly as he and Dr. Wilson stepped out of the elevator. "Traffic."
He got another jab of pain in his leg which intruded on his talking. He put his hand on his thigh and held it there. He let out a shaky sigh as his face went slightly pale. Panic appeared on Dr. Wilson and Cuddy's face.
"I'm okay." House concluded. "Don't get so worked up about my bum leg…"
Cuddy and Dr. Wilson exchanged glances.
House managed to walk into his office without being seen by Vogler. He slumped onto his chair and leaned his head onto the chair. He remembered that he had to take some Vicodin to handle the pain but instead, he fell asleep.
There was a sudden slam that stirred a sleepy House.
Must be Vogler.
"Go away, Vogler…" House mumbled, his eyes slightly open.
"Hey, Hey!" Came a familiar voice. "House, I'm not Vogler!"
House realized that his eyes were just drooping there and opened them to see Dr. Foreman standing in front of his desk. He sat up and looked at the file in the arms of Dr. Foreman with a note clipped onto the folder. Cuddy's writing.
"Another case?" House asked, shrugging off the thought about the note.
"Yeah," Dr. Foreman looked at the note to see if he had even noticed it yet. "Cuddy sent me a note to keep an eye on you."
House just mumbled something incoherent and limped to the door with his trusty cane in hand. With his hand on the door, he looked at Dr. Foreman expectantly. "Gonna come or not?" Dr. Foreman nodded and followed him.
House was about to walk out, ready for a challenge when all of the sudden, his bad leg immediately disobeyed to go any further. It reacted angrily with a huge thrust of pain through his thigh, causing House to stumble against the glass door and slide down. He held onto his thigh as it began to throb, painfully. He let out a small unsteady gasp. Dr. Foreman already got Dr. Wilson and Cuddy. House closed his eyes and later, he found himself in a bed and connected to all these machines. He heard a monitor beeping away.
He figured that he must've passed out.
Just great.
