This chapter directly follows the previous

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

House lays in the hospital bed, eyes still closed, and inches his hand down his right leg, feeling the deep scar tissue under his fingers for a moment and letting out a breath. He opens his eyes, blinking slowly- the dim hospital room swimming into focus. He shifts in bed, every joint stiff and the sheets under him horridly scratchy. His body feels as though its floating, morphine swimming through his veins as his eyes settle on the sleeping form of Rose.

Curled up in a chair, dressed in scrubs a size too big, she seems dwarfed then- too small for her usual presence. Her dark hair is damp and missed against the chair, falling over her face in clumps. She sleeps with her face scrunched and her head tucked awkwardly into her neck.

He knows she's not comfortable, but judging by the scrubs she hasn't left his side since he was shot. Seeing her there doesn't surprise him, and the lack of surprise makes him wonder. Of course she hasn't left- she's spent all of her free time with him for nearly a year. He never officially asked her to move in, but he knows she let her lease lapse some months before, and he hasn't spent a night alone in ages. She takes care of him, without comment and without him asking and without expectations. Why should that change now?

Deciding to let her sleep a little longer, House attempts to reach for the medical journal on the side table, hissing quietly at the burning pull in his neck. Straining against the stitches under his rib cage, he's nearly able to reach the table when one of the tele leads pulls off his chest, an alarm blaring into the quiet room.

Rose bolts upright in a panic, straight into doctor mode as she glances at the monitor which is now displaying a nasty arrhythmia. That is, until she sees him weakly attempting to reattach the lead. She shoo's a nurse who runs in, fixing it for him and sitting back down, smiling and grabbing his hand.

"Hey," she says simply, handing him a cup of water and checking his pupils, much to his protest.

"I was expecting Wilson," he grumbles, his voice scratchy and unused.

"I can call him, if you want." She barely manages to hide the edge of disappointment to her voice.

House shakes his head, cringing at the neck wound again and smirking. "You're much prettier after sleeping in a chair all day."

"How are you feeling?"

Rose follows his gaze to the morphine drip and back to his relaxed face. "Im not feeling much of anything."

Handing him his chart, Rose quickly details his injuries. "First bullet entered the abdomen, nicked a rib and narrowly missed the stomach. Second one pierced the jugular. You lost something like three pints before they stopped the bleed. You've got one more transfusion in the morning."

He grimaces, gingerly feeling the bandage on his neck. "Don't remember that one," he whispers, skimming the file and handing it back to her.

"What happened to the other guy?" he asks suddenly, failing to sound apathetic.

Rose doesn't look up. "I shot and killed him."

He doesn't respond, just looks at her curiously. After a moment, he grabs at her wrist- her hand still resting over his- and turns over her arm, bringing the white bandage on her bicep into view.

"What's with that?"

She glances to her own arm, confused for a split second before answering. "Oh, just a graze from the second bullet. Chase stitched it for me."

She turns her torso when he pulls her arm more, and he reaches up to pull back the bandage, his fingers uncharacteristically gentle.

"Dressing could be changed," he observes, replacing it and peering at her unflinching face.

She shrugs, settling back into the chair.

He squints. "Have you been shot before?"

"Yeah," she answers, as though it's obvious. "A couple of times with a vest on, and just once badly...You've seen that scar on my hip."

His curious face prompts her to stand up, and she tugs her waist band down some on one side, revealing a bright white starburst of scar tissue, centered just inside her left hip bone, branching like a spiderweb towards her bikini line and halfway to her belly button.

"I guess I never really noticed," he admits quietly, his hand gravitating to the scar on his own thigh as he lightly traces the pattern on her hip with his fingertip.

She lets go of her pants and grabs his right hand before it reaches its destination on his leg, pressing the large palm to her face. His thumb slowly brushes over her cheek bone and he stares at her intently for a long moment.

"I see we're awake!" A nurse parrots cheerily- far too loudly for the middle of the night- as she flounces into the room. House drops his hand and refuses to allow the nurse to tend to him until she re-bandages Rose's arm.

She rolls her eyes but does so, a silent question on her face and Rose shrugging in slight embarrassment.

Rose slips out while the nurse does her assessment, returning a few minutes later with an extra blanket. House appears to be asleep again, but he speaks when she settles back into the chair.

"Go home Rose, I'm fine. There's no reason for both of us to get a crappy night's sleep."

She sighs, checking her watch. "It's already three, House. By the time I get home and come back, I'll have gotten less sleep than I will right here."

She yawns and wiggles deeper into the chair, unfolding the blanket and tucking it under her chin.

"At least go to the on-call room or something. Your neck has to be killing you," House insists, eyes still shut.

"Nope, too comfy now," she says, closing her eyes. "See ya in the morning."

In reality, House is right. She's uncomfortable as hell and she's going to have a crick in her neck for weeks. Rationally, she knows there's no reason for her to stay since he's awake and well out of the woods, but she doesn't exactly want to leave, either. She can feel him staring at her now, trying to come up with another argument, but she figures she'll out-will him eventually. That or the morphine will knock him out- whichever comes first.

House watches her control her breathing, knowing she isn't asleep but secretly hoping she'll win the argument. He'd never admit it, but he hates being alone, and being alone in a hospital is ten times worse. Why he's even bothered to argue with her is anyone's guess.

"Whatever," House mutters, shifting around to get comfortable and closing his eyes. He can hear her moving too, and is silently relieved when she takes his hand again.

Rose remains awake then, peering cautiously at him in case he catches her with her eyes open. She wonders if he even remembers asking for the ketamine. Its potentially neurologically dangerous, and not proven effective on pain- much less permanently effective. She doesn't even want to think what it'd do to him if it worked only temporarily. But with the morphine, he wouldn't be able to tell if it worked yet and he hasn't mentioned it one way or another.

Even if it does help, she seriously doubts the leg will be strong enough with the missing muscle to function properly- especially after years of his lopsided limp. It's not a cure all- it would only take away the neuropathic pain, if it does anything at all. For his sake, she hopes it will work just as much as she fears what will happen if it does.

"Oh will you just come over here," House hisses in mock exasperation, his voice piercing the quiet air and startling Rose from her thoughts. "I can hear you worrying. And yes, there's enough room and no, you won't hurt me."

She shrugs, getting up and walking around the bed as House turns to one side, making room for her behind him in the bed. She climbs in, careful not to jostle any tubes and wires.

He relaxes back into her immediately, stress he wasn't aware of melting away. She wraps an arm over his chest, resting her palm on his sternum. This isn't really much more comfortable than the chair, balancing precariously with a guard rail pressing into her shoulder, but she'll be damned if she moves now- House having already fallen asleep against her.

HWHWHWHWH

The doctors sleep well past dawn, quickly becoming a spectacle for anyone who can spare a moment to come gawk at the infamously crass Doctor House asleep with the guardedly kind Doctor St. John.

Rose awakens not long after shift change, morning light slipping through the blinds. Behind her, she's aware that someone had opened the door during morning report and she can hear as people walk by, giggling and whispering under their breath. She watches House still sleeping peacefully, pressed against her chest, and she has no intentions of waking him. He'd be furious if he knew, but she's not inclined to care. Let them see.