Disclaimer: I do not own House. I do, however, hold several other characters, which I decline to refer to by name. How then do I assert their individuality? Umm… It's a secret.
Warning: This chapter is rated for slightly disturbing content. Just bein' polite...
o--o
Tap. Tap. Tap.
House twirled his cane in his hands and rapped at the door again. "Chase?"
Nobody answered.
"Chase, let me in. There's a mime after me. I know you're in there…" He glanced over his shoulder and sighed. "All right, fine. I'll use the door handle." He pushed the door open and stuck his head inside. "There you are. Momma's been all worried… no note, no letter, you never called…"
"House. What is it?"
He leaned back against the wall, noticing that Chase's Australian lilt had grown stronger as he spoke. Little things… "You're in a bad mood. I take it you weren't able to do the tests?"
"Yeah." He leaned forwards, sliding a needle into the forearm of a teenage boy… a boy who looked a bit familiar. "Cuddy told me she made a deal with you? How are we supposed to run labs if we're in here?"
"In secret? Or… you could wait until you get out and then do the labs." The look he received was less than appreciatory. "See it this way," he began, "Both of you do two hours instead of my full three, right? I can't do them, cos dude, I'm all beat up!" He broke off, staring at the patient. "Chase. The chart." He snatched it away, flipped it open.
"What's wrong?"
House glanced up. "He's an idiot, and it's gonna kill him someday. Not today, but it's not the fiber deficiency that's causing his problems."He turned. "Kid. You cool? Skater boy, ride a bike, that stuff?"
The boy nodded slightly. "Yeah, absolutely."
"Well, take a look at this. Ran some tests last time you were here. Here's the results of your tests. This kind of damage to the intestine, coupled with the lacerations around your anus…" He paused for effect. "Bicycle pump… Or a reversible vacuum." The expression on the boy's face betrayed his answer even before he opened his mouth to deny it. "'Pumping' is just another one of the stupid things people do to feel good. And as far as stupid goes, well, you can do some real damage. Not just bowel blockage, the stress on the intestinal walls, possibility of creating diverticulae every time you poke yourself too hard getting in there, chance of infection…"
House glanced to the side, taking in Chase's reaction. He was frowning slightly, not sure whether to be offended or interested. Obviously a new one on him. Could joke about it after the kid leaves, but… nah. He scribbled a few things down and tossed the folder back to Chase.
"I thought it was harmless. No drugs, no solid objects…"
He smirked back at the kid. "You want to feel good, go do something a little more socially acceptable. There's no such thing as risk-free. You keep riding the air, you're gonna pop a wheelie, and then you're gonna be one sick dude. Got it?"
The boy nodded.
"Good. And yeah, I recognize you…" He smirked. "Tell Mohawk I say hi."
o:-:-:-:-:-:-:-O-:-:-:-:-:-:-:o
It was recognizably PPTH, yes. But the moment he stepped through the double doors, they slid shut with a finality that suggested they would not open for some time. House smiled sadly at him from the other side. He was on his own.
The room was as it had been the last time he'd seen it, but the patients… the patients all had one thing in common. They were all facing him.
"Hello," he said cautiously, "I'm Doctor Wilson."
A few of them waved. A few responded. Some just stood there, looking very much the same as he had seen them when he came in. It was only as he drew closer that he realized that there was no depth to his perception. They were paper-thin, cardboard cutouts of an ailing crowd. And yet, the way they acted, just as any other person might…
"House was right," he muttered, wondering if the name was appropriate in a world like this. "This place is crazy."
"Speak for yourself. You're late." A caricature of Doctor Cuddy had exited her office and was now staring at him. For a moment, he considered the idea that whatever part of his mind had summoned up the House he had met before had also designed her. As if reading his glance, she frowned. "Hold on a moment," she said, and went back into her office. When she came out again, she looked as he remembered her. At least… she looked normal.
"Wilson," she said quietly, "Why are you here?"
"I'm guessing the explanation 'I work here' doesn't apply."
"No."
He shuffled his feet nervously, a hand resting on the table next to him. "If there was a logic to this place, you'd know it, being administrator and all, right?"
"Probably."
"Probably…?" He shook his head. "All right. What do I do?"
"Do what you normally do. Your job."
Wilson shrugged. "Go to my office, do paperwork, treat patients?"
"Yes."
He didn't reply, just nodded, taking the file that she held out and walking the clinic. The way he tried to take every aspect of the room in, he was sure he must look like a tourist in a big city. The longer he stared at any specific detail, the more it warped, changed. He soon gave up and left the clinic, entering the hallway, stepping into a crowded elevator…
"Hi, I'm Ariel. What's your name?"
He glanced down, seeing the familiar gleam of a head freed of its hair by chemotherapy. The speaker was a little girl in a wheelchair. "I'm Doctor Wilson," he smiled. "Are you on your way upstairs too?"
"Uh-huh. If you're Doctor Wilson, you're my new doctor. I'm being referred."
"Oh good. Friendly faces are always welcome, and if we've already been introduced…" He turned and smiled warmly at her. "Let's see if we can make you comfortable during your stay."
o--O--o
His office seemed to him to be a safe haven, free of changes, cut off from the rest of the hospital. It was only as he saw a cow signal the elevator, followed by its attending , that he realized how grateful he was for a lock on the door.
He leaned back in his chair, his hands behind his head. House, as usual, had a point, however disagreeable it was. As always.
A sudden rap against the window made him sit up, startled.
House was on the balcony outside, dry-erase marker in hand, scrawling a message across the door. He caught Wilson's eye and beckoned.
ARE YOU DONE YET?
Wilson stood up and leaned against the door, perhaps not too surprised that it didn't open. He returned to his desk and grabbed a marker of his own, but instead of writing, he slipped it into his pocket. "These doors aren't airtight," he said loudly.
I KNOW, House wrote. "…but it bugs you." He finished the sentence aloud. "And you can't wipe it off."
"I know. And you can't wipe this off." Greg House is annoying.
"You do know that you're supposed to write it backwards... Anyway, 'gniyonna' isn't much of an insult."
"It wasn't meant as one. I'm actually happy to see you. Everything is weird in here. Not in any significant way, either. Just… messed up. You told me I should come in here and – and it's done nothing. How is this helping me?"
House inclined his head, eyes still fixed on Wilson. "How can you go deep-sea diving if you've never been in the water before?"
"You're saying I'm… in the kiddie pool."
"Only until you learn how to swim."
"So this is training. Well, I'd like to pick up my sword and slay some demons now."
"How do you get from ocean metaphors to medieval? You can't swim in a suit of armor."
"The metaphors are irrelevant –"
"No, they aren't. How do you expect to manage in a world where symbolism is key? For instance, before you went in, you were covered in mud. When you got in, you were miraculously clean. It's a metaphor in itself. You involve yourself in your work to avoid the stresses of your personal life." He paused, waiting for Wilson to reply. When it didn't happen, he shrugged, his eyes darkening. "It's obvious. How can you –"
"I know it's obvious. I'm thinking. Give me a moment."
"What's the point? You've gotta be sure you know what you're doing. You can die in here, has that occurred to you? Your brain thinks it's real. There really is no alternative unless you want to sit in one spot and wait for the doctors to wake you."
o:-:-:-:-:-:-:-O-:-:-:-:-:-:-:o
He was on the way out of the clinic when the woman waved at him. He would have kept walking, but… God.
"Doctor House."
He paused, looked longingly at the clinic doors as if to prove that he really did want to leave. He was smiling slightly when he faced her. "Yes," he said after a moment, "that's me. Can I ask…"
"Jess Albion. You came highly recommended, and, well…" She looked wistfully up at him. "Someone told me you were the best."
He couldn't help himself but raise an eyebrow. He could tell she was flirting, putting on that 'I'm sick, help me' act. It didn't make her any less beautiful, though. Her body language spoke measures about her. And what a body to measure! He –
"Doctor House? Can you help me?"
"Probably. But the thing of it is… I'm not on duty today."
"The schedule said you were."
"Mmn… I was. Switched out. Bad day, bum leg… There are two highly recommended doctors taking my shift. And one not so, but you don't really have to worry about him. Just having daddy troubles, that's all. And as for the Aussie, well, he's just getting over a breakdown, so you might want to stay away from him for a while. Just leaves Doctor Cameron, actually." He shrugged. "Anyways, after she figures out what's wrong with you…"
"What?"
"Nothing. Just rethinking. Thinking I might be able to fit you in."
"I figured," she said softly, and winked.
"See, that's exactly the reason I'll take your case."
o--o
Author's Note- Aah, sorry! I haven't updated in some time… ((blushes shamefully)) My life right now is evil busy and... well, you don't really want to know all my excuses, do you? Suffice it to say that if I had posted anything up until now, it probably would have been crap. It's hard to write when you've been forced to do it for a set amount of time on a boring subject… Not that I'm saying I was forced here, no, I'm talking about an outside project, and one that doesn't involve you guys. Probably.
Ah, now here's the part where I frown and smirk at the same time. Anyone know what the season finale is? Think maybe it sounds a little familiar? How about two years ago, my fic 'Security' and Jack Moriarty? Maybe I'm a little unnerved here.
No preview for next chapter, sorry, I'm a little behind so I posted this as soon as I wrote it.
Thanks, as usual, to those who reviewed, I'll post your names next chapter :)
Laters, -P'Bantonox.