"The object perforated his Diaphragm and gave him two broken ribs – but I've sorted that now" the surgeon started as he addressed Cuddy and Wilson, who were still waiting as close to House as was allowed; "I strongly suspect the bleed around his heart can be controlled now, without the need for drastic intervention – I'd suggest regular monitoring to establish how much blood there is, and if it's a problem or not…as for the rest; it's a simple break in his ankle – doesn't interest me in the slightest; we'll keep him going with the blood transfusions – he lost a substantial amount; he's on Saline for the moment…I don't suppose you've found out what he's on yet?" Cuddy shook her head, hoping that House's team had found something by now.

"Okay, by all means try and get it out of him when he wakes, but I'll warn you now – Saline will hardly take the edge off the pain he'll be in when he regains consciousness" the surgeon winced sympathetically just thinking about it. "Anyway, he's been transferred to the ICU now, we'll need one of you to sign over some consent forms and such, not really my area" he smiled as he waved a hand and backed into the OR, signalling the end of his involvement in the case.

"Thank you" Cuddy managed to say before the doors closed completely; she and Wilson were sitting looking stunned throughout the surgeons' entire speech.

"Correct me if I'm wrong…but was that his way of saying 'he's gonna be fine'?" Wilson asked, still a little confused by the surgeons carefree, laid back attitude; at PPTH is was all doom, gloom and pessimism.

"Yeah…" Cuddy said, a smile forming on her lips as it sank in, "he's gonna be okay"

"Dr Cuddy?" a small orderly popped her head around the door and passed her a message when she confirmed her identity by nodding. She took the note and read it eagerly "You go see him – I'll ring his team, they've got something" she said to Wilson as she hurriedly gathered up her coat and bag to make her way to the nearest phone.

Wilson stood warily, his muscles angry at the use after sitting for so long on the small, hard waiting room chair; he flexed his injured right hand, shaking his head as the pain shot up his arm. He didn't want to think about how much pain House was going to be in when he awoke; hopefully he'd stay out until Cuddy found out what he's on…

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Unfortunately, a short while after his transfer to the ICU, House was seemingly on the brink of consciousness.

"Gregory, can you hear me?" the elderly nurse repeated over the excruciating groans coming from her patient; he wasn't showing signs of acknowledgement and she was stuck there watching him until his doctor showed up. She looked anxiously over as a young man approached; as far as she was aware, her patient wasn't yet ready for visitors.

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave" she began, flustered and raising her voice to the point of yelling as the patient gave another painful groan.

"I'm his friend" Wilson answered quietly, shocked at how pale House looked; he quickly and instinctively checked the various monitors around his friend's writhing body. "He's tachycardic…and his blood pressure's in the tank" he noted angrily, "where's his attending?"

"He's been paged – he should be on his way now" the nurse was interrupted as a tall, middle aged doctor burst into the room and grabbed up House's chart.

"Can't give him anything until you've found out what he's on" the doctor declared sharply; before Wilson could argue with the decision, he'd left the room – the nurse following closely behind him. 'He's obviously been on the end of one of Cuddy's lectures; but where the hell is she?' he thought desperately, 'she should be off the phone by now – we need to get him stable'

"Wilson" House gasped, rolling over to his right in the bed and causing his friend to gape at him for several seconds before stumbling over to his bed; if he didn't intervene, House would almost certainly rip his stitches.

"House – don't panic okay; you've gotta lay back for-"

"Wilson – why are you doing this?" House gasped as he continued to stare at a blank spot by the window, in a trance-like state; Wilson stopped, realising that he wasn't fully awake by any means. 'He's hallucinating'

"House, are you with us?" he asked cautiously as he leant over his friend's twisted body; he barely had a moment to react when the monitors began beeping wildly. House's O2 sats were plummeting dramatically; Wilson looked around as he slammed his fist against the nurse's call button, and then carefully rolled the older man onto his back. The intervention seemed to work as House's gasps turned into weak breaths and the sats improved slightly; "You've torn your Diaphragm – just stay on your back" Wilson said desperately hoping that maybe, deep down, House could hear him...

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House gasped as another bout of breathlessness overcame him; he'd been roaming an unfamiliar hospital for what seemed like hours. He'd heroically battled a surgeon after awakening to find him, scalpel in hand, about to cut him open; he had impressed even himself to find that he'd still got a wicked right hook!

House knew that this was still part of his mind playing tricks with him; he was certain that when he awoke from surgery, he'd be fine…all he had to do was survive his trippy dreams. It would be easy if he were dreaming about going to a monster truck jam or watching some good T.V; he'd be able to sit back in his mind and enjoy himself until he either woke up or died.

Unfortunately, his dreamlike state was not working out as he would have hoped. He was currently being followed by an elderly nurse who was insisting on stripping him naked and spraying him with a powerful hose; he did not want to be stripped down and washed like a Shawshank prisoner.

So, much to his exasperation, he was limping as fast as he could away from the old wench; the confusing thing was that Wilson seemed to be on her side and he kept popping up in random places in the hospital.

"Gregory, come on – can you hear me?" the old bat asked in a mockingly sweet tone of voice; "Just hang on" House heard as he quickened his pace, he briefly spared a glance behind him as he saw the elderly nurse fiddling with the nozzle of the hosepipe – 'you must be kidding if you expect me to hang around for you to soak me with that thing' he thought as he almost lost his footing on a pile of files strewn across the narrow corridor. "Jesus, now I'm being terrorized by clinic paperwork" he exclaimed to no one in particular as he tripped his way through.

He unsteadily rounded a corner, only to be swept over by a powerful arm; he coughed and spluttered as he prayed for air, laying on the cold, hard floor. 'What the hell was that?' he thought as he felt someone roughly holding him down.

He regained his bearings, looking in the reflection of a conveniently nearby window and found that it was Wilson who was pinning him down on his front, with his arms forced painfully behind his back.

He pleaded pathetically to the man whom he'd thought was his friend "Wilson – why are you doing this?" the words were weak and forced out as he felt his chest constrict, his breathing becoming almost impossible as the younger man knelt on his back harder.

Wilson flipped him over effortlessly and pressed his nose inches away from House's and sneered "You've torn your Diaphragm – just stay on your back" House complied out of fear; which was strange, he'd never been afraid of Wilson before.

He gulped in as much air as he could, which wasn't a lot; he was finding it extremely difficult to fill his lungs because of the torn Diaphragm. He squinted as Wilson blurred in and out of his vision for a moment; he was beginning to feel very nauseous…he felt the unwelcome taste of vomit filling his throat, but something wasn't right here – he couldn't expel it past that point. 'Torn Diaphragm – oh fuck'

He heard an unfamiliar, male voice shouting commands as he grunted, choking on the acidic liquid that was blocking his airway. "He's choking – I need suction here!"

Author's Note: To be continued…(no kidding!)