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Quack675: Ummm I have something up my sleeve. lol You'll find out stuff in this chapter --- maybe!! PS. UPDATE YOUR STORY! haha.

Sheets Of Blood Stained Cotton

Chapter Ten

House slumbered peacefully in his bedroom, the blue bedsheet covers wrapped around him as tightly as a mother's arms around a sick child. Finally some rest, was what House's subconcious thought to himself. It had been too long of a week, and House needed some beauty sleep. Ecspecially if that red slap mark on his face was ever going to heal. Yes, he was going to have a peaceful sleep indeed. Perhaps even dream about something pleasant.

It was an hour before Rowan Chase's flight. Rowan, who found himself sighing repeatedly, took a look around. This crowded airport room was the last Rowan would ever see of America. Of the place were his son's had created their lives. Pulling his coat closer to protect himself from the cold, he tried to hurry along as fast as you could in a New Jersey airport. Something trampled over the toes of his left foot. He winced and tried to catch a glimpse of the rude fellow who didn't even seem to say excuse me. He looked and saw Gregory House beside him in a trenchcoat and a beanie. Looking down, he saw that it was indeed House's cane pressured his foot.

"Dr. House.," Rowan nodded at him, straightening himself. Despite the messes and confrontations Rowan Chase faced in life, he always kept a professional demeener. House noticed this trait right away, and it reminded House of himself. House hated anything that reminded him of himself. "What might you be doing here?" Rowan asked.

"I might ask you the same thing.," House shot back at him. Rowan raised an eyebrow. "You told Dr. Chase that you couldn't stop by for a drink because your flight was leaving in an hour. You told him that at 7 o' Clock PM. And now would be," House took a moment to look at his watch, "9 o' Clock. "

"There was a delay.," Rowan assured him.

"No there wasn't.," House smirked and spoke in that tone he always flaunted whenever he felt showing off the fact that he could see right through people. "I checked."

Rowan sighed and caught eye to eye with House, "You can never just let a liar have his lie, can you Dr. House?"

"Now what fun would that be?," House scoffed.

"None at all aparrantly.," Rowan gave House a smile. "Now if you'll excuse me Dr. House, I have a plane to board."

Rowan checked his watch and motioned his hand forward, "Come Frank!," Rowan beckoned. And what looked like a giant man in a bunny rabbit suit hopped foward and followed Rowan into the crowd until House could no longer see him.

"What the hell?," House muttered in his sleep. His eyes shot open, and he checked the clock beside him. 2:39 pm. He sighed, rolled over in his navy blue sheets and tried to catch more sleep, but a random pounding on the door prohibited him from doing so. He grunted and struggled to ignore it but the pounding just got harder and louder. And so House, assuming that it was something urgent, got up (rather begrudgingly) and limped over to the front doorway. His leg pain was killing him beyond disbelief.

He opened the door.

It was Wilson. From the moist look of Wilson's hair, House could see it had been raining and that Wilsom had stood there for quite sometime. They stared at each other for a moment.

"I'm sorry I punched you in the face.," Wilson said, deciding to get the whole routine over with.

"I'm sorry Cuddy puts out.," House countered.

"Shes not --," Wilson stopped what he was saying, took a deep breath, and said, "So are you going to let me in or what?"

House looked like he was thinking intensley for a moment, "No." He nodded at Wilson. "You know the reason," House shook a finger at Wilson's face, "Women keep screwing you over is probably because of how horribly well adjusted you are."

"I'm well adjusted because I care ---?"

"Mr. needs to do everything by moral standards." House leaned on his doorway, trying to release some pain from his leg, "Look at you! Youre standing out on the freezing cold, its raining, and you're doing it to apologize to me! You always have to be the righter of wrongs, I mean god forbid you would ever do anything immoral or risky! Do something right and for once do something wrong!"

And, with relief of ending this rude midnight interruption, House slammed the door in Wilson's face.

Robert tried to roll over on his bed, but was stopped by the new, extra tight restraints House and Foreman had tied him up with. He hated this. He just wanted to go, to either get out of here and continue or die right then and there. But for right now, he knew he was stuck in between and he hated it. He hated the eerie silence that attacked at his yearning ears, that slow settling of impending doom. Despite the air conditioning, he felt unbelievebly hot and suffocated. His breath became short and shallow, and vision was beginning to blur again.

How did it get like this?

He was dying. He was dying and he was stuck in probably the last place he wanted to die in. He, for a moment, felt like this was his fathers fault. He was stuck in the place his father wanted him to be in, if it hadn't been for Rowan maybe he'd be dying somewhere more pleasant.

He imagined, for a moment, dying in a bed in his room in Austrlia. Sunlight beaming pleasantly into the room from a window by the dresser. Birds could be heard outside, chirping. He was enrawped in his favorite bedsheets, staring at the bowl of soup on his bedside table. He had already eaten the soup, it was cooked by someone. Someone he loved. Someone like Allison Cameron who he was happily engaged to. He inhaled. The smell of the soup was mixed with the smell of the fresh, clean, natural air outside. He hugged his sheets tightly. He wasn't in these horrible hospital robes, he was in his favorite sweatshirt and his most comfortable sweatpants. He inhaled again. He smelled something different this time. Something more pleasant than all great smells combined.

Allison came in the room. She was still wearing her night gown from last night. From the doorway she smiled pleasantley at him.

"Hey sweetie," She said in a soft voice as she approached him and sat by his side, "How do you feel?" Her hand gently swiped over his forehead.

"Great," He smiled back at her and she giggled and got under the sheets with him. She just lay there with him, caressing his face while he twirled her hair in his fingers in return. My god she smelled so beautiful. He almost cried at how happy he was, dying or not.

And what a beautiful fantasy this was. Robert did not want to let it go. He just lay there, in his restraints, pinned to an uncomfortable bed, needles all over him, but not alone. Cameron stood by his bed, close to tears herself, as she saw tears falling from Robert's own eyes.

She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. His hand did the same, only feeling it as another part of his fantasy.

"Hes miserable here."

Cameron spun around. Foreman had walked in, looking grim.

"Hes going to get better.," Cameron reassured Foreman. Foreman looked at the mislead determination in her eyes.

"We -- we can't do anything about it anymore," Foreman shook his head at her, "Hes too sick, maybe if we had caught it earlier he could have lived for years more but its too late. Everythings starting to hit him all at once. With that much damage to his kidneys, not to mention a destroyed immune system, and PCP?! Come on Cameron, you know this as much as I do. We've been trying more than we know we should because its Chase. But when you think of him as just another patient ---"

"Hes not just another patient!", Cameron screamed at him rather loudly. "Hes not -- " And for yet another time that week, sobs eminated from her. She tried to supress them, and ran past Foreman, out of the room.

Robert's next vistor was House. House stood at his bed, completely unsure of what he was doing there. House just stared down at Robert's blank face. It was rather akward, House just wished Robert would at least speak. Acknowledge him with a "hey" or anything. But Robert just lay there, silent and looking almost --- dead. House wouldn't have been able to tell if it hadn't been for the monitors.

House walked around his bed, and slowly began releasing the restrains. Once they were all gone, House lifted his cane, and nudged Robert's arm gently with it.

"What?" Robert muttered weakly.

"Youre dying." House said quietly.

"I know." Robert muttered in response.

"Get up.," Said House keeping his horribly grim tone.

"Why?"

House sighed.

"I'm going to hug you."

"What?"

"Just do it."

Robert looked up at him strangely, but with no further questions, Robert got up, and stood up in front of House. House bit his lip, inhaled deeply and wrapped his arms around Robert, first very gently, but eventually House succumbed to giving Robert a tighter hug. And, when Robert realzed that this wasnt some trick to inject him or withdraw anything from him, Robert hugged House back.

Of course at that very moment, Cameron walked in and stopped in her tracks immedeatley at the scene. House and Robert instantly seperated.

Cameron looked like a deer caught in headlights, "Oh," She said. "I didnt mean to interupt --- I --- umm." She stuttered out.

House pointed at Robert., "He started it."

Foreman changed Robert's urine tub. Foreman found it horribly depressing being in this room, seeing his once lively, almost goofy ex co worker looking so dead and cold. Although Foreman never really had much of a connection with Robert, Foreman knew he was technically a good guy. He actually saw Robbie as more of a lost child, looking for something to believe in. Foreman understood that Robert never had anything to aspire to, and so he understood why Robbie looked to House.

In Robert's eyes, Foreman assumed, House was an idol because he was such a brilliant diagnostian. Always solving cases, always seeing through people's lies. But also, Foreman had noticed, Robert probably looked to House mostly because House just never seemed to care. And all Robert wanted to be was someone who was numb enough to human emotions to not be dissapointed anymore. Foreman knew Robert was tired of such constant letdowns.

Foreman stared on and sighed at Robert.

It was never too difficult to figure Robert Chase out. Never difficult at all.

House sat in his office. On his desk was an envelope. It was addressed to Lisa Cuddy, of course House had grabbed it before Cuddy could do so. He felt rather sick and relieved at the same time. He knew what was going to happen once he opened that envelope. He knew that he was going to read it positive, prove Robert got HIV from Cuddy, be able to save Robert, and at the same time destroy Cuddy's entire reputation.

And Wilson will be sickened, and Cuddy will be angry, and Robert will be -- happy? And House, he will be rather --- sickened. He had been irked enough about Wilson and Cuddy but now Robert and Cuddy?

House shuddered. But he knew Cameron and Foreman would be back from clinic duty soon, and so, taking as deep a breath as he could, House opened the envelope.

A/N: Okay so I lied about the whole last chapter thing.