(NOTE: Thank you all for reading and reviewing. I apologize for not responding to each review individually - just know that your reviews and comments mean a lot to me. Reviews motivate me to write faster and thus post more often!)

Shirley was the night shift's head oncology nurse. She had worked at PPTH for years and had witnessed the complex friendship that House and Wilson shared. It seemed you never saw one for too long without the other appearing. Shirley had a lot of contact with Dr. Wilson and she respected him as a doctor and as a person.

Dr. Foreman had let her know that he was leaving Dr. House's room and that House's mental faculties seemed intact.

There wasn't a doctor in the room anymore, but Shirley was willing to bet that Wilson was still in the building somewhere. She didn't think that he would be too far away since House had been through surgery that afternoon. He was pale and looked sickly. She knew he had already had two surgeries - one of them a rather long surgery. His chart also showed a major blood transfusion the afternoon of his fall. She also knew he was a chronic pain suffer and what a toll that could take on the body. His history showed two previous heart attacks, an infarction in his thigh, gunshot wounds, an electrical shock, an insulin overdose, deep brain stimulation, a psychotic break as a result of extended vicodin use, hallucinations, and several other strange medical incidents. Dr. Wilson's handwriting, which Shirley knew well, also showed an entry citing, "Suspected severe chronic insomnia - patient has not sought treatment. Possible efforts of self-medication."

His history made him seem like some sort of magnet for freak medical problems and incidents. Maybe that was part of why he worked so hard diagnosing bazaar medical conditions. He always seemed so stoic and strong, but he had been through a lot of crud. She always spent a while studying the charts of patients who would be on the unit for a while, but his was fascinating in a very morbid sort of way.

She had been looking in on House repeatedly this evening and he was still very out of it. Anesthesia seemed to really knock him out. Dr. Wilson left a note that he was very sensitive to anesthesia. His vitals held steady, so she wasn't worried.

She saw at the station that his heart monitor was starting to fluctuate and his oxygen stats were dropping. As she approached, she heard moaning from his room. She sped to a run. When she got there she saw that two of her nurses were already there.

One was trying to hold down his flailing arms and the other was trying to support and hold his torso so that he wouldn't hurt himself.

He was tipping towards his left and pillows were falling from around him. She immediately paged Dr. Wilson noting an emergency.

She got another nurse in the room. "Hold his right leg. His pillows are falling. Make sure he doesn't bump it against the bed or anyone's arms. The brace is protecting it, but he's very fragile."

Shirley was calm and controlled as she organized her nurses.

She saw his oxygen saturation had fallen and his heart rate was rising. She saw that he was gasping, which ruined the effectiveness of the nasal cannula. She removed it and placed an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose.

This seemed to make him panic even more.

Wilson came running into House's room. Literally, he was running. His hair was sticking up on one side. Shirley had never seen Dr. Wilson with this little composure.

Wilson wished he had sat with House so that he wouldn't wake up alone.

"What's going on?"

Shirley quickly jumped in. "His heart rate is up and his oxygen sat is falling. I applied a mask, but he seems panicked. I think he's trying to fight the brace."

One of the nurse still trying to hold his arms threw in, "He's combative. I asked about pain and he didn't respond."

Wilson quickly took charge, "Let go of his arms. Just hold his torso and his right leg."

The nurse looked at Wilson doubtfully, but released House's arms. Wilson approached the bed and grabbed House's left hand around his IV. House immediately began to squeeze Wilson's hand. He apparently needed contact. House's eyes looked totally panicked.

He grabbed his hand to comfort him, but he also wanted to prevent House from pulling his IV out.

House responded favorably to Wilson holding his hand, so Wilson sat down on the bed to his left and helped the nurse get House straight on the bed again.

Wilson turned to Shirley and whispered, "Don't give it to him, but have some Ativan ready just in case."

"House, squeeze my hand and look at my eyes."

House's eyes continued to dart around, but he stilled.

Wilson whispered to the nurses, "I've got his torso, keep holding his right leg and get the pillows positioned around him again."

"House." Wilson really didn't want to drug House again right after he came out of anesthesia, but he wanted to be ready.

When House's eyes locked with Wilson's, he started to talk to him.

"Are you hurting?"

House didn't answer.

"Nauseated?"

No response.

"Agitated?"

House moaned in response.

Bingo.

"Claustrophobic?"

House moaned again and jerked his head up and down.

Wilson knew this was a feeling some patients felt when they woke up confined. He just hadn't anticipated it with House.

"Okay. That's okay. I want you to take as deep a breath as you can."

At first House didn't react, but he eventually followed Wilson's request.

"Exhale. Another deep breath." Wilson led House through several deep breaths.

His oxygen saturation gradually started rising and his heart rate started to fall. He seemed a lot more responsive now.

The nurses had his pillows arranged again and gently replaced his right leg on the pillows and positioned the foam blocks.

Wilson nodded to the nurses, "You can go - thanks."

With a tight nod to Wilson, Shirley led the nurses out. She put away the Ativan.

As House calmed down, Wilson continued to sit on the bed to his left and let House squeeze his hand.

Wilson's irritation at House for changing his proxy was starting to dwindle. He was still hurt by it, but Wilson figured he should just suck it up for now.

House needed his best friend. Even though he didn't have the proxy, he was still House's best friend.

Once he was a bit calmer, House started to talk, but Wilson couldn't understand him through the mask.

House seemed to realize this, so he reached for the mask with a shaky hand. His oxygen saturations were okay now.

"Do you want the cannula instead of the mask?"

"Yeah."

As House pulled the mask away, Wilson carefully put the cannula on House's face, took the mask, and switched his oxygen over.

House breathed for a few minutes without saying anything.

"Wilson, how long do I have to be in this thing?"

Great question. Wilson had no idea – there were too many variables. He figured honesty was the best policy.

"I don't know House. There are too many variables to even guess."

"When I start chemo, the healing will slow down."

If he were House, it would be time to throw in some remark about 'stating the obvious,' but he figured he should just hang tight and follow House's lead.

"Yeah." That seemed like as good a response as any.

"I'll probably have to wear this until chemo is over."

Everything seemed to be sinking in for House.

House just laid there for a while not even looking at Wilson. He wouldn't look at his own legs, either. He just stared at the ceiling.

After a few minutes, House spoke, "I don't think I can stand this brace."

Great. That was a whammy – how should Wilson even answer that. He told himself not to overreact – House was just processing this. Maybe House was just voicing his thoughts and a response was unnecessary - patients occasionally felt agitated after surgery.

House suddenly tensed and seemed to panic again. He started clawing at the fasteners on his brace.

"Get it off of me! Help me, Wilson. Get it off. You have to help me! PLEASE!"

Wilson felt frozen.

House wasn't making any progress with the fasteners since his hands were shaky and uncoordinated. He couldn't seem to accomplish anything except knock his hands together and fumble around.

He was managing to jerk himself around, though. He accidentally banged his right arm against the inside of his right leg and let out a muffled whine. The brace was there to stabilize the bones, but the vibration of his arm knocking into his leg still hurt. He had a localized numbing injection, but it wasn't enough to numb his entire leg as the vibration no doubt made his whole right leg hurt. The pain apparently made House reach for his leg, but he was totally unable to bend at the waist and the top of the brace stopped him before he moved an inch. He was still trying to bend, though.

All of these things seemed to happen so quickly Wilson could barely react. All he could think to do was get House still. He leaned all the way over and used his right arm to hug House's torso against his own torso just to hold him in place. House's arms were pinned between his own chest and Wilson's body. Wilson put his left hand under House's right leg to still him.

"Do something, Wilson! It's strangling me, I can't move."

Wilson usually was able to come up with ways to deal with House, but he had absolutely no idea what to do now. Shirley had left with the Ativan.

He was actually shocked that House had this kind of energy after surgery. Most of this was probably the product of anxiety-driven adrenaline.

Despite his continued movement, Wilson had House physically stable, but he had no idea what to do on the emotional front.

"WILSON! Help me…" House was weakening and was no doubt exhausted.

House was almost still and was quiet now. He dissolved into tears.

Wilson wasn't sure if he had ever felt this helpless in his life. He couldn't imagine how helpless House must be feeling right now.

Now that he was still, Wilson made sure his right leg was stable and then moved his left hand away from House's leg to rub his shoulder.

"Okay House, you're okay." He loosened his hold a little bit and House pulled his arms away from where Wilson had pinned them down.

Much to Wilson's surprise, House wrapped his arms around his back.

He was now in a full-fledged hug with House. In all their years of friendship, Wilson wasn't sure if they had ever hugged. Granted, House was laying down and Wilson was awkwardly leaned over him, but it was still a hug.

House's heart rate was lowering and the sobs were slowing down. As House pulled his arms away, Wilson released House as well and tucked a pillow against House's side so that he'd be more comfortable.

"I'm so tired, Wilson." House was rubbing his mouth. Wilson noticed how chapped his lips looked. He was probably thirsty.

"Do you want a drink of water?"

"Yeah."

Wilson grabbed the pitcher and got House some cool water along with a damp washcloth. He didn't hand House the water because he seemed shaky. Wilson put a straw in the cup and held it near House's face hoping House wouldn't yell at him or throw the cup across the room. It was always a fine line as to whether to help House or let him attempt things himself.

House took the straw in his mouth and took a few swallows.

"Washcloth?" Wilson waited to see if House would reach for it or if he wanted Wilson to wipe his face off.

House took the washcloth from Wilson and dabbed his face off and wiped his mouth.

Wilson took the cloth back from him and gave him another drink of water. House looked thoroughly exhausted.

"Do you want to go to sleep for a little while?"

"Yeah."

It didn't take long for House to drift off. Wilson put his head in his hands and struggled to hold back his own tears. Wilson resolved to stay by his bed in case House woke up and panicked again.

(NOTE: This may have seemed out of character for House, but I wanted to show the transition from House examining himself from an observant, intellectual standpoint in the last chapter, to an emotionally reactive standpoint. My goal in this chapter was to show House's humanity.)