Chapter 36

Things to Do…

Whoosh. The door to room 304 slid open once again, and a gurney slid through the opening.

The nurse, Mark St. John, looked up.

Greg House was home.

Gently, he was scooped from the gurney and rolled back onto his bed, still separated from Rainie's. Until he recovered enough, several days from now, the two beds would stay apart, rails raised to protect the site of House's surgery and to protect him from the infection that so often killed patients who survived a splenectomy. He'd already been pumped full of antibiotics as a precaution.

Wilson, exhausted, walked into the room, followed by Lisa Cuddy. They spoke quietly in the corner by the couch as House was settled in the bed and hooked up to the monitors.

"You really think he should come back in here?" asked Cuddy.

Wilson nodded. "I wasn't for it in the first place, but whatever happened in here between the two of them was good for them both." He didn't elaborate. "And it's obvious now that his physical problems stemmed from… well, physical problems."

"Okay, if you think it's best."

"I do."

* * * *

Mark St. John was getting used to hearing Rainie Adler cry. For hours now, he'd heard little else… except for screams and moans of pain.

So when it started up again, he wasn't surprised. What did surprise him was his other patient. The man had just barely survived emergency surgery. He should be knocked out for hours to come. But when Rainie began to cry, House made a noise.

St. John looked up, startled. House's eyes were still shut; he was apparently still doped up from the anesthetic. And yet, he made a noise. St. John wasn't sure, but it sounded to him as if he heard the words, "It's okay. It's okay." But he wouldn't swear to it.

The crying slowed, and Rainie Adler calmed down and went to sleep.

* * * *

When Rainie woke in the night, she began to cry again. But then, she heard two sets of monitors and a comforting sound from off to her right, and she felt herself relaxing. Eyes still closed, she reached out toward House, bashing her hand against the bed rail. Disappointed at first, she realized that, although she couldn't touch him, he was still there.

That was the important thing.

He was still there.

She hadn't killed him. They hadn't killed him.

* * * *

Blythe House called Wilson back shortly after House returned to room 304, leaving a message on his voicemail. She apologized for her husband's behavior, and asked if she could see her son. Wilson, who had decided to let all his calls go to voicemail for a while, to avoid any more scorching messages from John House, realized he'd have to call her back. Rather than calling directly and risking another confrontation with House's father, he left a message at their hotel for her to call him.

When his cell phone rang this time, he picked up.

"James? It's Blythe House."

"Hi, Blythe." He waited for her to talk.

"When we got back to the hotel, we heard the news about Greg on the TV. Is he okay?"

"So far. He survived the surgery. We won't really know for a day or so if he's going to be all right."

"Oh, I see. Will we be able to visit him?"

Wilson stopped himself from saying the first thing that came into his mind, something that would have been eminently satisfying at that moment, but which would hurt House's mother. He toned it down.

"I think I may be able to arrange for you to see him, Blythe. But I don't think it would be a good idea for your husband to come along."

There was a pause on the other end.

"Because of how he behaved?"

That was as good a reason as any.

"The hospital is very protective of Greg, Blythe. He's been through so much. They don't want anything disruptive around him, anything that might upset him. And I'm sorry to say that your husband's… volatility… is likely to upset him a lot. We just can't allow it."

Another pause.

"I understand. If I came in today, could I see him?"

"How long are you going to be here? Because he's had his spleen removed, he's susceptible to getting infections, and we have to give the antibiotics time to work."

"I'll stay as long as necessary," she said. "I don't want to be burden, but I want to see for myself that…" Her voice caught. "…that he's all right. I need to know that."

I know the feeling, thought Wilson.

"Perhaps in a couple of days," he said.