A/N: Hey everyone, all this angst is seriously draining to write. Leave me some love, please, we've still got a way to go and I need the energy to finish!

--

Chloe retched futilely for a while, and then sat for a long while on the cold tiled floor. No one had come to find her, so obviously they were giving her some space. Her thoughts were an incoherent whirl and staring at that evenly spaced blank white tiles was a way of trying to block everything out. Eventually she'd become aware of feeling cold and uncomfortable and realised she needed to be there to hear any news.

She rejoined Wilson and Cuddy in the waiting area, sitting on a chair across from them. Shakily, she pulled her hair back and kept her eyes on the floor, unable to look at either of them.

Cuddy looked at Chloe's drawn, pale face and shaking hands.

"Have you eaten today?" she asked.

Chloe shook her head.

Cuddy rose without a word and headed for the elevators.

"Are you okay?" Wilson asked, concerned.

"Not really," Chloe said quietly. She looked up and met his eyes.

"I'm sorry Chloe." Wilson felt sure she had done the right thing, but he knew it had affected her deeply.

Chloe just nodded.

"I'm amazed at how courageous you are. I know that was tough." Wilson took a breath. "I'm sure it doesn't make you feel any better, but it's what House wanted."

Chloe nodded. He got it. He knew why she'd decided the way she had. It was nothing to do with him, Cuddy, or – God forbid – Stacy. It was about loving House. She knew he would understand that.

They shared a sad smile.

"I'm sorry, I haven't said congratulations yet, either."

"Don't," Chloe said, looking back to the floor. Her anger with House and her conflicting guilt at the possibility that she'd just made a decision that could cost him his life made even thinking about the baby twist her heart painfully. She thought ruefully about Dr Edwards' warning to avoid stress to protect the pregnancy. Could life actually be more stressful than this? she wondered. At that moment she felt like she had a time-bomb instead of a baby inside her, not knowing when the pain and blood of loss would explode.

"Why not? You must be thrilled, especially when you thought it was probably impossible."

Chloe shrugged and Wilson was taken aback by her reaction. He was about to ask more when he recalled her words as House had been transferred to ICU.

"What did you mean – House didn't know?"

Chloe sighed. She didn't want to talk about any of it. And, as she'd been trying to think for the past two days, the attention should be on House, not her.

"I only just found out," Chloe muttered reluctantly. "Yesterday."

"And you didn't tell him because he was sick," Wilson mused.

"Yeah."

"So did he find out? Or was he just delirious?"

"I don't know. Maybe Taub told him. Even though I told him not to," she muttered.

"Taub?" Wilson asked, curious as to why House's intern would know. Then it clicked. "Oh, the tests in the ER."

"Uh-huh."

Cuddy returned holding a cardboard tray of coffees and a paper bag. She sat them down and handed them out to Chloe and Wilson.

"Coffee. Muffins, fruit salad, chocolate and yoghurt. I wasn't sure what you'd want, so I got a selection."

"Thanks," Chloe said gratefully. She knew she should have the fruit or the yoghurt, but she reached for the chocolate. Craving? she wondered.

Chloe was grateful that Wilson dropped their previous conversation in front of Cuddy.

None of them said much for the next hour, sipping their coffees and munching their way through the snacks Cuddy had bought.

Cuddy sat and fidgeted, then got up to pace, seemingly unable to sit still. Wilson sat on the couch, staring at the elevators as if watching them would make Clayton return with good news. Out of the corner of his eye he also kept a close watch on Chloe who sat with sphinx-like stillness in her chair, gazing out at the windows at the end of the corridor.

When Chloe stirred to stretch and yawn, Wilson pulled his attention from the elevators.

"Why don't you go and lie down?" he suggested.

Chloe shook her head. No way was she leaving until there was news.

Wilson smiled ruefully. He couldn't blame her, he wasn't about to leave either.

"Okay then, well, how about stretching out on the sofa here?" he began to rise.

Chloe looked over, the idea was enticing.

"Stay," she said, rising from her seat.

Wilson frowned, but sat down when he saw what Chloe intended.

She sat on the sofa next to him then lay out, resting her head in his lap. She looked up at him.

"Is this okay?" She didn't want him to think it was inappropriate, but she could really use the comfort of contact with another human being.

He nodded and smiled, smoothing the hair back from her temple, resting his palm on her head in a brotherly gesture.

Chloe smiled and closed her eyes.

"Thanks," she murmured.

Suddenly Cuddy turned to them and began to speak.

"I remember this time I asked House to give a lecture. It was only to students, no one important, but he was set against it. We traded our usual currency of clinic hours but he still refused to do it."

She smiled with the reminiscence.

"You know, I think he only refused because he thought I expected him to. I knew he'd love the chance to warp young minds for an hour or two – have a room full of people hanging off his every word."

"I remember that," said Wilson. "Diagnostics. He talked about his own case."

"Yeah. Dr Riley wasn't impressed. He came back and the students were disappointed they didn't have House again. He got great reviews in the subject feedback."

Wilson nodded, smiling, remembering the rapt expressions of the students on the day.

"He'd make a great teacher," Cuddy mused. "If only…"

Wilson laughed at the idea.

"If only he wouldn't be so awful at it," he added.

The conversation set off another story in Wilson's head and he and Cuddy started recalling a time House had been caught breaking into the drugs locker. For once he wasn't actually after pain meds – it had been part of a practical joke – but it was a serious offence that had taken both Wilson and Cuddy days of hard work to smooth over. But now the two of them smiled and laughed remembering his dogged refusal to apologise.

Tears were quietly running down Chloe's face as listening to their stories set off reminiscences of her own. It wasn't something she was about to share, but while Wilson and Cuddy were remembering House at work, she was remembering House at home, in bed. Her favourite thing that he did wasn't sexual. It didn't happen every night – and maybe that's what made it special – but occasionally she'd be lying there, about to drift off to sleep, and she'd feel him reach over for her. He'd wrap an arm around her waist and literally drag her across the bed into him, curling his body around hers. Sometimes it woke her up, sometimes it was even uncomfortable, but she never minded. She supposed it was kind of lazy of him, after all, he could just move over and cuddle into her instead. But there was something about the possessiveness of the gesture that caught her. Like House was making a silent declaration. Mine.

Chloe wondered if he'd meant his impromptu marriage proposal the day before. House often spoke without thinking, but he rarely said something he didn't mean. Then again, he had been heavily medicated.

At that moment, Chloe didn't care about diamond rings or weddings or anything other than House coming out of this alive and intact.

She sniffed and tried to reign in her tears, certain Wilson was going to notice the wet patch on his pants soon.

"You know, House can't help himself getting into trouble, even when he's this sick," Cuddy said.

"What do you mean?" Wilson asked.

"I organised a laptop for him last night because he was bored. And then I got told today by the IT department that someone had accessed a heap of confidential patient and employee records overnight. They gave me a list of whose had been accessed and I couldn't help noticing that they all seemed to have one common connection. I don't know how it happened, but somehow he was able to get right into the hospital's system."

Wilson chuckled, for some reason more amused by his friend's ingenuity than annoyed by the invasion of privacy, instinctively knowing that his records would have been on the list.

"Did he look at mine?" Chloe asked in a small voice, the first time she'd spoken in a while.

"Yes, he did." Cuddy answered, her voice still amused, although she knew the whole thing was going to cause her problems down the track. Of course, that was assuming House was around to make use of the information he'd garnered. The thought wiped the smile from her face.

"Oh." Chloe couldn't help the noise escaping her. So that's how he knew. She wondered how thorough Dr Edwards note-taking was. Would there be a note on her file that she'd asked questions about termination? She wasn't sure how much detail would be on the computer record. Was there a copy of the ultrasound picture she'd seen yesterday? Had House already seen their child?

She felt Wilson's hand squeeze her head lightly, wordlessly letting her know he understood what Cuddy's response meant.

Suddenly, Chloe's anger returned. They shouldn't be sitting around talking about House's trouble-making as if he was already gone. And he shouldn't have looked at her records. It was his own fault that there was something to distract him from concentrating on getting well. And when she miscarried, that would just one more thing to distract him from focussing on his own recovery. She sat up abruptly, wiping her face.

"We shouldn't be talking like this," she said loudly, causing both Wilson and Cuddy to start back a little.

"Sorry about your pants," she said looking down at the messy spot where she'd been lying.

Cuddy reached over with a handful of tissues she'd produced from somewhere.

Chloe handed one to Wilson and used the others to wipe her face and blow her nose. It was time to get over being pathetic, she decided. Time to get back in control of things. She was a strong, independent, intelligent woman. Not that anyone would have been able to tell that over the past couple of days, she reluctantly admitted.

She straightened her clothes, stretched out her back. She rummaged in her purse and found a brush and ran it through her hair. She looked at her watch and while she could read that it was almost ten pm, she wasn't sure what that meant.

"How long has it been?" she asked.

"Almost two hours," Wilson answered, dabbing at his pants with the tissue.

"And is that good or bad?"

"I guess it depends," Cuddy answered. "It's probably good, though, because it means they're removing as much of the infection as possible."

"I don't think we need to start worrying yet," Wilson said soothingly.

Chloe stood up, intending to pace around a little, stretch out her legs. The room swam dangerously around her and the periphery of her vision started to blacken. Determined not to faint again, she sat back down quickly, breathing deeply.

"Head between your knees," Wilson instructed, moving over to her, gently pushing her head down.

Chloe nodded to show she'd heard and bent over, drawing her breaths carefully and slowly. Wilson rubbed her back lightly. Slowly her vision cleared and she gingerly sat back into the sofa.

"Stood up too quickly again," she muttered. "Going to have to watch that."

Cuddy had moved over and was sitting on the low table in front her, a look of concern in her eyes.

"Eat this," she said forcefully, holding out the blueberry muffin she'd bought earlier. "A chocolate bar isn't enough to keep you going for a whole day."

Chloe shook her head. The idea of swallowing the sweet, doughy cake made her stomach turn.

"I'll be back." Wilson abruptly rose and headed for the elevators.

"Okay, well at least have some water," Cuddy encouraged.

Chloe nodded and accepted the paper cup Cuddy had filled at the water fountain.

Sipping slowly, Chloe kept her eyes away from Cuddy, wanting to avoid her questioning stare. It was better for her to think it was caused by stress and a stomach bug. It was bad enough that Wilson knew – that House knew! – she didn't need anymore sympathetic looks.

A few minutes later, Wilson appeared with a plate. He'd been to the doctor's lounge and toasted a couple of slices of bread.

"Here," he offered.

Chloe took the plate and looked at the toast, waiting to see what her stomach did. But it seemed the idea of something crunchy with very little taste was exactly what she needed. She picked up a piece and nibbled on the edge.

"Thanks," she said gratefully.

--

It was another two-and-a-half hours before Clayton emerged from the elevators and made his way over to the exhausted trio in the lounge area. It was Wilson who noticed him first, stirring the women from their slumped positions in opposite armchairs. They'd given up conversation at least an hour earlier, each of them ostensibly absorbed in a police crime drama on the television. In reality none of them could have recounted the plot; all were absorbed in their own private thoughts.

Clayton sat down without speaking, a solemn look on his face.

Chloe felt as if she had lost the ability to breathe. One look at Clayton and she was convinced he was about to give them that doctor's pat: Despite our best efforts…

"He's in recovery," Clayton said tiredly, the strain of more than four hours of surgery showing on his face.

"There was an abscess in the bone that we had to excise. We put in a plate and pins and I think we got enough of the infected tissue to give the antibiotics a chance."

Wilson was the first to speak.

"So you think he'll make a full recovery?" he asked, an eager tone in his voice.

"His leg looks as good as it can be, given the circumstances," Clayton hedged.

Chloe felt a twist of guilt at his words. It felt to her that Clayton was implying the circumstances were the limitations she'd placed on him for the surgery. Looking at the doctor though, she knew he hadn't finished.

"What? What is it?" Chloe asked, dreading the answer.

"The surgery we did would have been a strain on someone who was young, fit and healthy. House doesn't meet any of those descriptors." He took a deep breath.

"He had a cardiac arrest on the table."

Cuddy gasped and covered her mouth, turning away from the surgeon as if doing so would make his words disappear.

"His heart stopped for around a minute, but we managed to get him back. His fever is still high, so we have him in a chemically induced coma to reduce the chance of brain damage. But the good news is that he wasn't oxygen deprived for any dangerous length of time."

"How long will he be…?" Chloe asked.

"A couple of days, I think," Clayton answered. "We'll have to keep an eye on him and see how the infection goes. The cultures told us it was golden staph – he probably picked it up from a clinic patient. We've just got to hope it's not a resistant strain. But right now I'm concerned about possible adverse reactions to the antibiotics.

"House's…" he paused, as if searching for the right word, "…use of Vicodin compromises his liver and kidney function. We're having to give him massive doses of oxacillin and I'm worried that because they're already weakened…"

He trailed off, knowing it was obvious what he was getting at.

Chloe sat back in the chair. It wasn't over, not by a long shot, but at least he had survived the surgery. One step done, so many more to go.

"So what's next?" Wilson asked.

"We wait," Clayton said simply.

--