Here's my attempt to continue this fic. Let me know what you like, don't like and anything in between. Thanks so much for your reviews, if it wasn't for you then this fic wouldn't be continued. Thanks for your encouragement and dedicated reading. I hope you like the newest edition and please review. I enjoyed your comments, the only help with the process.


Wilson's Differential Diagnosis

Part 4

Wilson stayed and did paper work while House slept. He figured this way he could get some work done and keep an eye on House. He made himself comfortable in a neighboring leather chair and rested his now shoeless feet on the coffee table. Hoping that he wouldn't get too comfortable and fall asleep, he began to tackle his stack of work. House needed to be monitored even though he didn't like admitting that he needed help. His ribs could be broken, with the swelling it was hard to tell at this point. His leg also needed to be watched, with the lack of muscle in that area his bone was vulnerable and Wilson didn't want to see it get worse and have House in any more pain than he was already in.

He would stir occasionally. Shift his weight, cough stretch his legs out, but he stayed asleep for the most part, which was good because he really needed it. The couch was never the best place for him to catch up on sleep but at this point where ever he was comfortable was fine with Wilson, he would deal with the pain that it brought later. He had been out for a good four hours by the time dinner rolled around. Wilson had worked in a nap himself; sleeping lightly in case House needed him. He decided that he would try to wake House for dinner, he needed something to eat. How else would he be able to fight this cold? House never took being woken up well, so Wilson treaded lightly.

"House?" He spoke in a soft voice, gently placing a hand on House's shoulder. No response came, he figured that he didn't speak loud enough and tried again.

"House." This time he placed the back of his hand on House's forehead to check his temperature. He seemed warmer than before, but House didn't seem to act colder, he didn't ask for another blanket or anything.

"House, I need to recheck your vitals. You don't have to open your eyes, just take the thermometer for me."

When he didn't respond this time Wilson grabbed his shoulder and shook him a little. He still didn't respond. Checking his carotid pulse he found it to be thready, a sign of bleeding somewhere. House remained un-responsive and only responded to painful stimuli. Wilson checked this by both pushing his knuckles into House's sternum and taking a pen to his fingernail bed. He knew he had to do something, he quickly grabbed his cell phone and the stethoscope off the coffee table and while listening made a call. He called Cuddy to warn her that they were coming in and needed a private trauma room and listed several doctors whom he wanted there personally, he didn't want this getting out until it had to. Next he called for an ambulance for a direct ride to Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. He continued to monitor his friend while he waited nervously. At intervals he tried to wake him with no luck. No wonder he didn't get up and slept so long, he was only half conscious. Now Wilson felt guilty and responsible for his friend's condition.

"If only I had tried to wake him earlier. I should have taken vitals more frequently." He talked to himself mainly, half in his head, half out loud. He knew that now was not the time to feel guilty but he couldn't help it. His friend was drastically ill now and it could have been partially his fault.