AN: Yet another post Wilson's Heartfic languishing on my computer. More room for new stuff!

Admission

House's brilliant blue eyes were dulled with exhaustion and pain; he blinked unsteadily at Wilson from where he lay on the floor. His breathing was irregular, and he was trembling all over. Wilson was silent, unmoving for a moment until he pushed himself to his feet and stepped over House and down to the door. He was running by the time he hit the ground, cell phone pressed to his ear. Cuddy gently brushed House's hair back before lowering his head back to the floor as she made to rise. House blinked up at her, his lips parted to say something when his expression changed, and he retched, painfully. Cuddy shifted him onto his side with Cameron and Chase's help and held him until he stopped, gasping. Cuddy carefully lifted his head back into her lap. There was blood trickling from his ear again.

"You two." She lifted her chin at two nurses and ordered tersely; "Get a stretcher."

"No." House muttered.

"I'm admitting you." Cuddy told him in her no-nonsense voice. "Your heart stopped, you have a skull fracture. You need to be monitored."

"I need to go with Wilson." He whispered breathily.

"No." Cuddy waved impatiently at the two nurses, who clambered off the bus. House shifted against Cameron, and struggled to lift his head from Cuddy's lap.

"House—"Cameron began, shifting to hold him still.

"I need to go with Wilson." He said haltingly. His breathing was harsh and fast, and Cuddy feared he was going to pass out from the exertion or lack of oxygen.

"No." she repeated firmly.

"I'll go." Chase offered, getting to his feet. "I'll go with Wilson, and I'll let you know what happens." He promised. House stared up at him fuzzily before nodding once, slowly. Chase bolted off the bus, and Cuddy felt House relax against her again. His eyes slid closed involuntarily, and she patted his cheek gently.

"Stay with me, House."

"Tired." He mumbled. Cameron took his hand, and inspected his fingernails cautiously. She nodded, held up his hand to reveal the purple tinge to his nails.

"I know." Cuddy told him. "I want to get a CT, check the swelling. Then we'll let you sleep. Okay?" He mumbled something that might have been an answer, but Cuddy was focused on the stretcher and the EMTs at the door. They clambered up into the bus and managed to pick House up and transfer him in one smooth movement. Cuddy had supported House's head until he lay on the stretcher, and they were strapping him down for the ride into the ER.

"Cameron—go with House. Get him upstairs for a CT. Get him on oxygen, and something to counteract the physostigmine." Cuddy directed. "Foreman, get me a bed in the ICU."

The EMTs lifted House's gurney back onto the sidewalk and began rolling him to the ambulance with Cameron and Foreman in their wake. Kutner, Taub and Thirteen emerged from the bus, as did the remaining role playing victims. Cuddy waved them off the bus and back to the hospital and they moved past her silently, removing their pictures and signs. Rubbing her eyes, Cuddy turned away from the empty bus and stared intently at the sidewalk, willing herself not to cry. Swallowing a hiccupy sob, she wrapped her arms about herself tightly for a moment; waiting until the burning in her throat eased, until the stinging tears in her eyes no longer blurred her vision. Sighing shakily, she slowly headed for her car, wishing she could do something more for Wilson. The only thing she could do for him, really, was look after House.

House's sats were in the basement; he'd predictably passed out shortly after being transferred again in the ER. His clothes had been cut off; he'd been redressed in a gown and hooked up to a heart monitor and given a mask instead of the oxygen cannula. His breath fogged the mask. Heart rate was under 50, his bradycardia was improving but not resolved. Cuddy bit her lip, and clenched her fist in anger. He was a damned fool—his refusal to rest even after the skull fracture had been diagnosed, when the swelling in his brain had made him vomit and pass out. When the physostigmine stimulated the neurotransmitters in his brain and overloaded his heart and caused him to arrest; he'd still fought his way to consciousness. He'd done it, she knew, for Wilson. Not for himself. He'd done it to save a life.

Amber's life.

"CT?" she asked in a clipped tone as Cameron returned with a bag of fluids and started setting House up for an IV.

"Foreman's clearing the machine." Cameron told her quietly. "His pressure's low."

Cuddy sighed, nodding. "Oxygen sats?"

"High 80's. I've ordered a nebulizer treatment." Cameron finished sticking House in the hand and taped the tubing down before turning up the fluids. One of the ER nurses returned with House's chart, which she offered to Cuddy and a new ID bracelet, which she snaked around House's left wrist and clipped into place. Glancing up, Cuddy could see House's name and date of birth, his date of admission, and her own name listed as House's admitting physician.

"You listed me?" Cuddy asked Cameron, who was studying House's latest blood work to determine the amount of physostigmine he'd ingested.

"As what?" she asked absently.

"His admitting."

"Wilson can't do it. Who else would want him?" Cameron asked incredulously as she spun out of the room to obtain atropine. Cuddy winced at that, and took House's limp hand, gave it a squeeze as she straightened the band on his wrist.