A/N: Thanks a lot to everyone for the feedback you gave me for the last chapter... Sorry, if Cuddy came across as 'evil'; that wasn't my intention at all! She just had a different opinion regarding House's condition than the rest of the doctors, but from her perspective she was trying to do what was best for him. --- And without some opposing positions, where would be the fun really...?! ;)

Anyway... Hope you enjoy the next chapter!

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About an hour later, Cuddy had asked House's team to monitor their boss's condition in the ICU, and moved any further discussion with Wilson and Dr Shaminsky to her office. House hadn't had any more seizures since they had switched medications, and his temperature had come down a bit again. It seemed as if the treatment for serotonin syndrome, caused by the SSRI in addition to the vicodin he had been taking, was working.

Cuddy gestured for both Wilson and the pain specialist to sit down on the large leather sofa, while pulling the chair out from behind her desk and sitting down as well.

"So… What now." She asked no-one in particular.

Wilson shrugged slightly in response, choosing his words carefully, unwilling to risk another confrontation with his boss after the sharp words they had exchanged earlier. "We wait for him to come out of the coma. It shouldn't be more than a couple of hours, if there are… no more complications."

Cuddy raised an eyebrow. "You mean, if the NAC I gave him hasn't done any critical damage." Tone slightly accusing.

The oncologist shook his head, forcing himself to calmly meet her gaze. "No; that's not what I meant. – You did what you thought was best for him. You had to decide very quickly; it was a difficult situation…"

Interrupting their discussion, Dr Shaminsky gently tried to steer them back towards more pressing issues. "We need to think about what to do when he regains consciousness. – The naloxone will have neutralized most of the opiates in his system, and unfortunately it also counteracts the effect of pain-lowering endorphins the body produces naturally… - He'll be in acute withdrawal and in a lot of pain when he wakes up. Since opiates, and everything else interacting with the serotonergic system, are out of the question right now, we need to think about other ways to minimize his discomfort." He shifted his gaze from one to the other, before continuing. "And… We must also be prepared for symptoms elicited by the abrupt discontinuation of the SSRI, which is usually not recommended. We will have to expect nausea, dizziness, electric shock like sensations, but also affective symptoms, particularly anxiety, nightmares, suicidal ideations…"

The expression of concern on Wilson's face intensified, and he started to tensely rub the back of his neck. "Well… Non-opiate pain meds should all be possible, right? Ibuprofen, aspirin, naproxen, paracetamol…?"

Shaminsky nodded hesitantly. "I would go a little easy on the paracetamol right now; at least for the next couple of days. It has been known to interact with certain kinds of serotonin receptors, so we should be a bit careful. But the others you mentioned shouldn't cause any harm…"

The oncologist nodded. "What about muscle-relaxants? They might help with the leg; he's been cramping a lot lately…"

The pain specialist met his concerned gaze. "Most of them should be okay…"

Now Cuddy chimed in as well. "We could also give him antiemetics for the nausea, at least if they're anti-histamines; diphenhydramine perhaps…"

Shaminsky gave another nod. "And benzodiazepines, should the need arise... – But other than that we should tread cautiously for now, until the serotonin syndrome is fully reversed."

Cuddy started to rub her forehead uneasily. "This won't be a pleasant time for him… - I wish I hadn't given him the damn naloxone! Then he'd have some residual opiates in his system at least, and enough endorphins to support him somewhat through the worst of it…"

The pain specialist smiled reassuringly at her. "On the other hand, the serotonin syndrome might still be worse, assuming the vicodin really contributed to it…"

Wilson looked from one to the other. "Well, I guess the important thing is him getting better now. There's no use discussing what we should have or could have done differently. – We should concentrate on doing what's best for him now, and hope he'll get through this without too much permanent damage…" He was talking like someone who was - out of painful experience - expecting the worst. Then, a small smile softening his features: "I think I'll better go down there now and wait for him to wake up. – Can't let him have to deal with Huey, Dewey and Louie all alone when he decides to finally join us again…"

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The oncologist looked down at the much too still body of his best friend, cursing himself for the umpteenth time for not having been able to prevent this. If he'd just been a little more insistent in his questioning! Or if he'd given the other man a greater sense of security, of confidence in his motivation and ability to support him through whatever problematic situation he found himself in… If House had felt secure enough in their friendship, he might have been able to open up to him, and all of this could have been prevented.

But as it was, the diagnostician was quite obviously terrified of the prospect of having to go through any more periods of uncontrollable pain; of once more being deprived of the very few means he had to adequately deal with it. The fact that he had completely ignored what was medically an imperative decision – namely to immediately get off the SSRI as soon as the first symptoms of a serotonin syndrome had emerged – spoke volumes about the panic he must have felt at the prospect of once more being forced to give up part of his pain management regimen. Of doing anything that might make the pain worse again. Of maybe opening an opportunity for people around him to once more cut him off of what he perceived as his only valuable assistance in his ordeal… He'd never have risked bringing himself into a potentially life-threatening situation, unless the alternative was, subjectively, even more threatening to him.

And he had risked it. He must have at least suspected that the symptoms he had been developing over the past couple of weeks were related to an excess of serotonin, or he wouldn't have tried to reduce the dosage of the SSRI. And the fact that he had then upped the dosage again, because of the resulting increase in pain and despite the more and more prominent symptoms of a serotonin 'overdose', spoke of that kind of irrationality that – with House – could only be related to the feelings of helplessness, desperation, and panic only his leg injury could evoke in him.

Fear of pain. That was what it all boiled down to. A fear that had been present – on some level – ever since the infarction. A fear that had been exponentiated by all those months of enforced narcotic abstinence that had left him suffering from pain levels he probably hadn't experienced since the early days of his invalidity. And the fact that he had felt unable to at least discuss the current problem with either his best friend or his treating physician who was specialized on these issues, plastically reflected the emotional scars those months had left; the periods of intolerable pain he had been forced to endure had left…

Wilson's gaze reflexively went to the cardiac monitor, once more reassuring himself that at least his friend's vitals were stable for now. He was still on a ventilator to secure his breathing, but his heart-rate and blood pressure had pretty much stabilized by now, and his temperature had gone down some more. As if to make sure this was really still the case, Wilson lifted one hand to gently touch the other man's forehead, keeping the brief contact a moment longer than would have been strictly necessary to just check the warmth of the skin. To feel his friend, physically, was good right now. It assured him that House was still there and had probably made it through the worst of it. He was clearly improving, but the oncologist would not be able to relax completely, before his friend had opened his eyes again and was once more with them.

Cameron, Foreman, and Chase were quietly watching the oncologist and their unconscious boss from outside the ICU room. It was Cameron who finally broke the silence, asking no-one in particular: "Do you think he'll be alright…?"

Chase turned his head towards her, not replying anything immediately.

Foreman threw her a half-amused, half-empathic glance, but his tone was reassuring: "He'll be fine." He sounded very sure. "The coma's just his brain's way of saying: 'I've had enough of this: Cut out the serotonin or go on without me'. – And the seizure was his brain's way of saying: 'Hey – didn't you hear what I just told you?!' – A seizure doesn't necessarily mean neuronal damage. You know that. – He'll be fine."

The attention of the three young doctors was instantly drawn to the room beyond the glass door again, when House's cardiac monitor suddenly signaled an abrupt increase in his heart-rate…