A/N: Well here it is, the second chapter. Sorry about all the medical stuff, i want it to be as much like the actual season finale as possible. Don't worry, we'll get into the good parts real soon.:] Please review, it inspires me to write more chapters.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HOUSE, M.D., AND/OR ANYTHING ASSOCIATED WITH IT. Please don't sue me.
"My God," Wilson said quietly, stroking a palm across House's graying hair.
Amber and Wilson had convinced Cuddy into letting Amber out a little early, and she agreed fully when she heard House was on the bus with Amber. Amber did a little research with some victims from the crash that came in the ER. Finally learning of House's whereabouts, they rushed to Princeton General.
A chubby doctor was talking to Amber while Wilson was at House's side.
"His heart won't stop racing. No idea what's causing it," he said, marking things off on a chart.
Amber grabbed House's file off his bed and started reading it.
"Sure it wasn't the bus that landed on him?" she snarked.
Wilson looked at the long tube down House's throat. "Oh, my god....."
"It's not trauma. He was stable post-op. This didn't start until an hour ago," the overweight doctor continued.
Wilson ran his hand along House and stopped at where they had done surgery on his leg. "House," he whispered, barely audible, tears stinging the back of his eyes.
Amber looked at the the file throughly while answering, "Delayed reaction to the trauma. He lost both his kidneys in the bus crash. He ripped up his femoral artery."
The doctor was starting to get annoyed with the blonde. "We fixed his artery, got him on dialysis for the kidneys. Whatever is doing this to his heart, it isn't from the crash."
Amber was not convinced.
That, and she did slightly care about her boyfriend's best friend.
"Check his potassium?"
"Of course."
Wilson turned away from House's unconsious form, and looked at Amber. "Why didn't you page me?"
Amber had no time to respond as the gruffy old doctor continued. "He's been under the whole time. He had no ID."
Amber chose to ignore Wilson, and read over House's file again. "Pushed adenosine?"
"And verapamil, and floated the swan two hours ago."
"Coronary angiography?"
"Three critical patients ahead of him. We'll have him in within the hour."
Amber looked at Wilson and House. The puncture in his head was swollen with blood, and Wilson was on the verge of tears, rubbing his hand through House's hair.
Amber had to do something.
She turned back to the attending doctor. "We're fifteen minutes away from Princeton Plainsboro by ambulance."
The doctor gaped. "You wanna move him? His heart rate is a hundred and thirty-
"He's hemodynamically stable. We're moving him."
Amber thought she had made it clear, but the fat doctor opened his mouth again. "You're not his doctor, you can't make that decision!"
Amber sighed. "No," she looked at Wilson, "but his brother can."
Wilson looked at her, suprised. "Right?" Amber asked, winking to get Wilson to play along.
Wilson looked at House, then to the chubby doctor.
"Move him."
Wilson and Amber lay on each side of an unconsious House, Amber pumping oxygen into his lungs and Wilson monitors his heartbeat, still grasping onto this tragedy.
Amber continued pumping as she spoke, "If trauma didn't damage his heart-"
Still grief-stricken, Wilson interrupts, "Why was he on the bus?"
"I don't know. If he had any underlying condition, the accident could have exacerbated it."
"Why were you with him?" Wilson asks, somewhat ignoring Amber.
"I don't know!" Amber shouted. "I'm not hiding anything, I just don't remember. What else could damage his heart?"
Amber looked at Wilson, who seemed distant. He had his hand on House's shoulder, using his other to pinch the bridge of his nose.
"Wilson!" Amber snaps, making Wilson snap out of his trance. "Don't get lost! I'm barely coherent. I need your help right now."
Wilson relaxed a bit visibly, just in time for House's heart monitor to make an eerie sound along with a straight line.
"V-fib!" Amber shouts, and as quick as lighting, she throws the oxygen mask aside and grabs the defibrillator paddles. Wilson looks on in horror as House flatlines, panic quickly taking over him.
"Charging!" Amber shouts, warming the paddles.
"Okay, Okay," Wilson says to himself, as if trying to calm himself. Then, he has an idea. As Amber prepares to shock House's heart, Wilson puts his hand out suddenly.
"Wait, wait, wait!" Amber looks at him impatiently. "Protective Hypothermia."
Amber looked at him almost angrily. "You wanna freeze him? His heart's not beating!"
Wilson shook his head. "His heart's already damaged. If you restart it, it'll keep racing, shoot off free radicals, and kill his brain! We ice him down, put him on bypass until we've diagnosed him."
Amber sighed, annoyed. "This is not a solution! All you're doing is pressing pause!"
"It gives us more time to find a diagnosis. Amber, this is House!" Wilson yelled, a few tears running down his cheeks.
Torn, Amber looks between her boyfriend and his best friend. "Please!" Wilson begged.
Amber finally submitted. "Cold saline solution," she said, grabbing bags of ice and placing them around House's chest. Wilson hurridly hooks an IV solution into House. He then rubs his cheek and whispers, "You're gonna be okay, House. You're gonna be okay. I promise....."
Wilson watched listless as surgeons hooked up House to multiple machines, the one big machine being the bypass. Dr. Foreman stood beside him, looking over his boss's damaged and bruised body. He couldn't help but feel sorry for Wilson. Amber comes up to stand next to him, looking emotionless. She is soon followed by House's ducklings. Dr. Taub rests his head in his hands after looking at his dying boss, Thirteen, suprisingly, is almost in tears because of House's condition. Kutner, however, doesn't looked phased by House's condition. Everyone looks at a puffy-eyed Wilson. If it wasn't obvious before, it was now.
Wilson loved House.
Chase spoke from House's room. "Cool temperature down to ninety."
He switches on the bypass machine. "Bypass circulating."
Chase makes one final look at House's monitors, and then at his audience in the observation room. He nods.
"He's stable."
Everyone in the observation room stayed silent, not moving.
House, their own boss, was dying.
"Why are we doing this?" Foreman asked, questioning House being hooked up to bypass.
"Bought us time to think," Amber deadpanned.
Amber takes one last look at Wilson, then leaves. The ducklings follow her, Kutner and Foreman giving Wilson reassuring pats on the shoulder.
He wasn't reasurred. His best friend was dying. Wilson couldn't help but be slightly mad at Amber. He then decided to blame himself for leaving his cell phone at his office. Why was House with her, though? He usually ignored his phone calls. Wilson stared on at his best friend's pale, bruised body. He felt the tears coming back, but tried not to think about this being House's last days.
He studied the slow rise and fall of his friend's chest.
"Please don't die, House, please...." Wilson started sobbing.
Amber couldn't help but feel powerful while writing on House's white board. She wrote in big letters, "TACHYCARDIA."
Amber turned her head to the ducklings. "The trauma must have stimulated a pre-existing heart condition."
"He's a drug addict," Taub started. "Vicodin could cause any of his symptoms, and the trauma was probably icing on the cake."
"Vicodin only severly affects the liver and kidneys," Thirteen protested. "It would fit his kidneys failing, but nothing else."
Amber sighed. How did House deal with these people?
"We could narrow it down by looking for arterial blockages," Kutner said.
"How?" Foreman replied, frustrated with this situation, "On an echo? Can't see wall motion when there's no motion."
Amber then felt a sharp pain in her head, and started rubbing it. She was still feeling the effects of her concussion.
More frustrated than before, Foreman ranted, "EKG? Nope! Heart's in the off position. Thallium uptake scan? Useless on a cold heart!"
Amber's pain wouldn't go away, so she snapped, "Yeah, we get it. His heart's not beating. It's gonna make this harder to diagnose. On the other hand, he's not gonna die while you're whining about it. What else?" she yelled angrily, still trying to relieve the intense pain in her head.
Kutner studied Amber. "There's another way to narrow it down." Amber looked at him. "If you saw any symptoms in House before the crash, a simple dream jogged your memory last time."
"Why not cyanide? She's a mess. She needs to sleep," Taub concluded, resting his hands behind his head.
"I had a concussion yesterday," Amber snarked, "can't do anymore drugs 'till lunch. Get him an angiogram, it could show damage even in a stopped heart. The rest of you, search his apartment. Toxins, heavy metals, drugs other than Vicodin, anything that would make his heart race. Knowing it's House, i'm sure you'll find plenty."
Everyone except Taub ran off, who remained in the same postion. Amber decided to visit House's office, and sat down in his chair. It suddenly felt as if House surronded her, so she rubbed her head harder. Hearing Taub enter, she looks up at him in annoyance.
Taub paused and a moment passed before he said, "I need to know if there's anything medically revelant that you couldn't share publicly."
Amber stares at him, confused.
Taub sighed. "You were obviously drinking last night, Maybe you took House to a bar?"
"I left work, in my car, alone," Amber answered annoyed.
"You ended up drunk together on a bus. Maybe you met House at a bar?......"
Amber snooped around House's file cabinets, pulling out a file. "I did not have an affair with him."
Taub took a step closer to House's-or Amber's, rather-desk. "You can't say that if you don't remember."
"I lost four hours, not four months."
"Maybe it was the first time."
Amber looked up at Taub, wondering if it was.
Taub continued, "If you drank together, any chance you did any drugs?"
Amber continued to pretend to stare at one of House's files.
Taub sighed. "I'll run a tox screen."
He leaves, as Amber continues to try and remember what happened that night.
Amber writes symptoms down on House's white board, trying to have one of her own "House epiphanies". She slides the chair away from the board and looks at it, massaging her forehead.
"Are you okay?"
She looks up to find House, healthy and unscathed, standing at the door, wearing a suit.
Amber sighed. "Can't really say 'yes' when it's a hallucination asking."
"Don't worry, you're just dreaming," House said, walking in without a limp and without a cane, Amber noticed.
Amber studied him. "What symptom did I see in you? A myoclonic jerk-"
"Boring."
"A rare neurological symptom is boring? Am I in someone else's subconsious?"
House leaned in over the desk, close to Amber's face. He asked slowly, "What did we do last night?" Amber looks down and finds House pouring a glass of Sherrie's, and sliding it towards her, a probing look on his face.
"Was I meeting you for a drink?" Amber asked quietly.
"Was that all it was?" House asked, rounding the desk, bending down so he was face to face with Amber. "Woman thinks a man is......handsome," he inched closer. "admires his intelligence, admires the way he has to get what he wants, things she likes about herself," he inched even closer, their lips barely touching.
"And maybe he always had a little thing for her. Her mind. Her green eyes," he rests his hands on her lap, "But someone gets between them, so, they decide to meet in an out-of-the-way little bar. Does that sound familair?"
He rubbed her thigh. "Do I feel familiar? What do you feel?" He went past her lips, and breathed into her ear. "Electricity....."
Amber wakes up jerkily, knocking over a mug that she guessed House was previously using. She cleaned up her mess, and then hurried out of House's office.
