Title: Leave the Light On
Author: i luv ewansmile
Summary: Lisa Cuddy's world was tumbling into a dark abyss, all her hard work and nothing to show for it, she was still miserable, if only one doctor could have the cure for her bleeding heart. Huddy. A different spin starting from the kiss scene in "Joy" 5x06.
Disclaimer: I do not own House, nor do I make any profit.
Chapter 12
"Are you alright?
All the sudden you went away.
Are you alright?
I hope you come back around someday.
Are you alright?
I haven't seen you in a real long time.
Are you alright?
Could you give me some kind of sign.
Are you alright?
I looked around me and you were gone.
Are you alright?
I feel like there must be something wrong.
Are you alright?
'Cause it seems like you disappeared.
Are you alright?
'Cause I been feeling a little scared.
Are you alright?
Are you sleeping through the night?
Do you have someone to hold you tight?
Do you have someone to hang out with?
Do you have someone to hug and kiss you,
Hug and kiss you,Hug and kiss you?
Are you alright?..."
Even at a time like this, Wilson found himself shaking his head; apparently, House's odd sense of humor was wearing off on him, if he could smirk at a time like this.
However, this has been the quietest ride in an ambulance he'd ever had with House. And for some reason, that brought both a curve to his lips, without any humor reaching his eyes.
Yes, of course the man could be silent as the grave when he was stubborn or brooding, Wilson wasn't laughing at that kind of quiet, but more of the calm, quiet you have while working the nightshift at the hospital.
The kind where you're almost hoping for a serious trauma to come barreling through the doors, so you have something exciting to tell your friends as they come on for the day shift.
But that wasn't the case with House either. They had him stable, as far as his stats were concerned, but he wasn't waking, or stirring or showing any signs of rejoining this world.
Wilson couldn't be happy for the calm ride, not having to force House to lie down so they could intubate him, or yelling 'Clear!' when he went to v-fib, no, this eerie calm ride was more nerve wracking.
If it had been something else, something Wilson could do to make things better, Wilson wouldn't feel so unless, just holding his friend's hand.
Wilson would be uneasy until House had at least dozen tests run and he personally looked at the MRI, and CT of his friend's head. And then, only after he could hear that scathing sarcasm once again, would Wilson truly be relieved.
Cuddy was pacing. Furiously biting at her nails, swinging around looking at the worried faces around her, then turning back to continue her pacing, her heels clicking.
Foreman, or no other male doctor present for that matter, couldn't help but to respect Cuddy for being so stable, so professional, and so doctorly.
She looked like she walked out of a Vogue magazine, blue satin dress twirling around her and yet, she was in full doctor mode as she ordered the finest of her staff to be prepared.
It was Nurse Brenda who noticed something was off with Cuddy, because even in all of Cuddy's professionalism, she could trace the lines of fear, and worry, not worry over an employee, but worry of a lover, on Lisa's face. There was something going on between those two, something more than the usual.
Brenda's eye's lit up with this revelation, she'd always suspected, the way they would banter with each other, how she stayed with him the last time he was hurt, but no, something was different, it was like, Cuddy almost felt guilty for something.
They all jumped to their positions as the double doors to the Emergency Department burst open, paramedics and one worried doctor bringing in what would be the gossip of the nightshift and the entire hospital over the next couple of days.
Wilson started yelling out orders, preparing the awaiting staff for instructions to facilitate a quick access of the severity of House's injuries and the route to the best and quickest treatment.
Cuddy steps closer as they transfer House to a bed. Her face drained of color, her eyes are upon his face, and then slowly she lets them trail down his body. The paramedics had quickly removed House's tuxedo, leaving the man's body exposed to the harsh artificial lights, making his pale complexion appear almost translucent.
When Cuddy caught sight of the once white dress shirt House had worn, she gasped at the amount of crimson staining the soiled fabric. She felt sick, her worries, her fear, her guilt, consumed her in that moment, watching him as they worked to access his health, not knowing if he would wake up.
She almost wished he'd sit up, and start yelling at her, telling her how terrible and miserable of a person she is. She told herself she could bare his accusations of her, if only she could peer into his ice blue eyes once again.
Wilson turns to her, aware that she had stopped barking orders when she caught the sight of her…what would she call House now? Her friend? Her lover? He didn't know, but he recognized the tremble in her hands, and the slight catch before her knees buckled, he gracefully caught her in his arms.
Signaling to a nurse, they lift the Dean of Medicine onto a bed. Wilson checks her over quickly, noting that the night has finally caught up with her. A person's body can only handle so much stress.
Leaving a nurse to watch over her, Wilson moves along with the rest of House's team to run the tests that will tell them whether House has fractured his skull once again, how badly the concussion is, and if there is any edema and raised intracranial pressure, they should be worried about.
Wilson watches through the glass as they conduct an MRI, praying there are no spinal chord injuries or severe head trauma. Wilson's face is shrouded with memoires of the last time House needed him, and he wasn't there.
The grief over losing Amber still pulled at him, tearing him from the inside out. But it was time to start living for the living. Wilson finally peered down at the monitor's read out, mouth parting in shock, House had did it again.
The man had a skull fracture in the occipital region, fortunately it wasn't depressed, there would be no need for surgery, just a very close monitoring for the next twenty-four hours.
For serious head trauma, this was as lucky as it gets. The wound would had allowed room for the excess blood, and cerebral spinal fluid to leak out, resulting in less intracranial pressure.
So that's why there was so much blood on the curb and House's shirt, Wilson pondered, the image still burning in his head. Thankfully, the bleeding has seemed to stopped with only some help from four well placed sutures.
Wilson was trying to rationalize to himself why House hadn't regained consciousness yet. House's earlier concussion from his run in with a fist and colliding with the metal bars of his jail cell, was further aggravated from the blow from the fall, which cracked his skull.
Wilson then mixed in all the alcohol House had consumed while at the party, and the amount of Vicodin in his system, the man should be out for a few hours at least.
The only thing they'd have to worry about now was edema. The risk of House's brain swelling was a worry. So was his higher risk of contracting an infection, having an open head wound.
The next twenty-four hours are critical, anything can happen, but gladly they found House in time. Hopefully, House's injury hadn't been sustained too long, if he was able to call Cuddy for help.
Wilson prescribed an antibiotic for the slim chance of infection, cortical steroids for possible swelling, an O2 treatment, a wrap and ice packs fro the sprained knee, saline/glucose drip, morphine drip and a cozy stay in the ICU for the remanding of the evening, which was closer to morning.
Wilson was weary, and he rubbed the back of his neck, knowing this would be a long night, and relieved he only had one beer at the party or else he'd never let himself be House's attending physician, not like he would have had a choice anyway, Cuddy would have fired him if he tired.
Watching House's breathing seemed to have a calming effect on Wilson's nerves. Letting his mind wonder, Wilson was curious, why did House call Cuddy instead of him?
Stepping away from House's sleeping form, Wilson went to check on sleeping beauty; surely, Cuddy would be awake and alert by now, demanding to know how House is. He isn't sure he wants to deliver the news. All they could do now is sit and wait.
Wilson walks into Cuddy's office, softly sitting by her on the couch, touching her shoulder, "Cuddy… Cuddy, wake up." She turns her face toward him, then looks around the room, noticing the nurse who was watching over her. She looked back at Wilson's face, her eyes searching his, clearly asking if House was alright.
He smiled a tiny smile and said, "He's going to be okay." She sits up, hand going to her face, feeling kind of groggy still from her nap. She asks, "What happened?" Wilson takes his time and explains how she fainted in the ER, and updated her on House's condition.
She reaches for her high heels, placing them on her feet as she stands up, making her way to the door. Wilson's by her side. She thanks the nurse, although she really dislikes being babysat, but she has no time to feel embarrassed, her mind was on someone else.
Of course, irrationally, her thoughts drift to a dark corner of her mind. She almost turns right around and gets back in the elevator when they reach the ICU. She didn't know what to say. She doesn't know what to do.
Wilson appears to realize her dilemma; he grasps her by the shoulders, making her look at his face.
"Cuddy… Lisa, he would want you there. He needs you." His words did not have the soothing affect as he had hoped, but her feet start moving again. Wilson holds onto her elbow as the sliding glass doors open to their presence.
The beeping of his heart monitor was a welcome sound. She had seen him like this before. So pale, so vulnerable, in pain. Even though he was asleep, she could imagine the incredible amount of pain he'd be in the next few days, and weeks of therapy sessions…. And her harsh words…
The color in her face was slowly returning, only to be replaced by red blotches, her eyes misting over. She's hurt him again, she put him in this bed.
No, she knew she hadn't caused his injuries, but he wouldn't have been out there if not for her. Damn it, he would not be in pain, every… single… day… if she hadn't pushed Stacey into doing the procedure, which possibly be the only reason he's living today, but she thought, at what cost?
Wilson had stirred her to an empty bed beside his. She was sitting on the edge when Wilson returned, hand full of tissues, silently trying to comfort her.
She rose out of her ponderings, tilted her head to the side, lips parting she asked, "Wilson… had somebody hit him…there…" she motioned to House's bruised jaw, "when did that happen?"
Wilson let out a small laugh, "It's a long story…." He glances at House's EKG monitors, knowing House wouldn't be awake anytime soon.
He sits down next to her and begins to weave the tale of their night's events, from everything from the tuxedo to the police station.
Wilson was happy he could lessen the strain of the night as they sit and wait… hoping one day they could hear House's version of the story, and be able to laugh about this moment.
"...Are you alright?
Is there something been bothering you?
Are you alright?
I wish you'd give me a little clue.
Are you alright?
Is there something you wanna say?
Are you alright?
Just tell me that you're okay.
Are you alright?
'Cause you took off without a word.
Are you alright?
You flew away like a little bird.
Are you alright?
Is there anything I can do?
Are you alright?
'Cause I need to hear from you.
Are you alright?
Are you alright?
Are you alright?
Hey..."
Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed this chapter, even though most of it was through Wilson's perspective.
Please review, and tell me what you think! =)
Lyrics by Lucinda Williams, "Are You Alright?".