Chapter 24

"What the hell were you thinking?" Cuddy paced up and down in front of her desk, glaring at the young man in front of her. "We specifically told you to leave House to us. He's at a crucial stage in his recovery and we didn't want to overwhelm him."

"Overwhelm him how? I only wanted to talk to him about his patient." Chase countered, resisting the urge to begin pacing the room himself. "He talked to me. He helped me."

Cuddy rounded on him. "Your actions caused a bleed in his brain! He's in surgery right now having a hole drilled into his skull." Her voice was ramping up in pitch as she allowed her fears to take hold. "Do you have any ideas what the consequences of this could be?" She bellowed. "He might not come out of this." Her voice cracked as she struggled to control the emotions surging through her.

"No! I didn't cause the bleed. I DIDN'T!" He reiterated as she glared daggers at him and threw up her hands in frustration. "If you check his chart, there were signs that he may have been bleeding since last night. If anything, I helped him!" Here he risked a look at her, but her stance told him that she wasn't buying anything he was saying. He had to make her see that he didn't, wouldn't do anything to harm his boss. "When I called for help all of the doctors were working a code down the hall. None of them attended. Not one! A nurse wouldn't have been able to diagnose the bleed, and they couldn't treat him if a doctor wasn't there to give them orders. I got him into a theatre in under 10 minutes. Do you think that would have happened if I had stayed away like you said?"

Cuddy sagged onto the sofa; all the fight suddenly drained from her. Unbidden, silent tears pooled in her eyes and slowly snaked their way down her cheeks. She turned to face the window so the younger man wouldn't see her moment of vulnerability. Haltingly, Chase walked over to his boss and slowly sat down next to her. He reached out and placed a hand over hers. "He'll come through this. He's the toughest bastard I ever met." He breathed, fighting his own emotions.

HHHHHHHHH

House felt himself glide gently into consciousness, wrapped in a comfortably numb cocoon. "House?" a muffled voice floated over to him. The words held no meaning to the man in the bed. "House, open your eyes for me." The voice sounded again, as if from a long tunnel. Slowly the words slid away and sedation pulled him under again.

Sometime later he felt a burning pain in his head, pulling him out of his drugged sleep. To his left a chair scraped across the linoleum. Footsteps clipped across the floor, then a harsh, scorching light suddenly assaulted his eyes, jerking him into hazy awareness. Again, that voice called to him. "Hey House… Can you hear me..?" The meaning of the words came slowly to House, like an after image burned into the retina from a dazzling light. "House, come on now. I need you to open your eyes if you can hear me." He was about to drift off again when a sharp stinging sensation in his nail bed pulled him back. He felt himself groan but couldn't carry out the voice's instructions. Couldn't coordinate his muscles to pull his hand away.

Whoever it was that stood over him wouldn't let him off that easily. Again, he felt a piercing pain in his nail bed, this time it didn't ease off, taunting him, challenging him to make a move to stop it.

This time he felt his free hand twitch, then obey his command to move. "That's great House, you're doing great." The voice told him. "But I need you to open your eyes."

That searing pain in his head began screaming for attention again. The world threatened to melt away, but the pain in his hand pulled him back.

Groaning again, frustrated at his inability to control his body and the pain which prevented him from succumbing to the pull of the drugs still coursing through his system. He felt something vibrate between his teeth, biting down he found his mouth close around soft plastic. Swallowing, he felt his throat constrict around it. His gag reflex kicked in, and he found himself retching.

"There's a tube in your throat helping you breathe, you're not ready to go without it yet. Try to relax and let it do its job." The voice was gentle now, soothing. "I need to do a check neuro check, then I can let you sleep. But first I need you to open your eyes."

His eyelids felt glued shut, refusing to follow the command. Again, he felt pain in his nail bed. That groan sounded again, the tube buzzing uncomfortably in his throat. His head was still hurting. He tried to turn away to escape from the myriad of uncomfortable sensations, but the tube followed him. He tried to swallow, to clear his throat, again his oesophagus closed around plastic. More gagging.

This time his hand moved of its own accord, up to the tube. Something halted its progress. "House, I know the tube's uncomfortable, but it has to stay in." He pulled away from the voice. "Open your eyes for me." He tried to pull his hand free but couldn't. His other hand felt heavy, but eventually he could move it. Felt his fingertips brush the tube extending from his mouth, but they were pulled away too.

Groaning, the tube vibrating, more gagging. Breathing became more difficult, he couldn't draw in air. He pulled at the hands restraining him, he had to get the tube out.

"Dammit! His sats are dropping… House you need to calm down or we'll have to sedate you." The meaning of the words was lost to him, all that mattered was the next breath.

He tried to roll away from the voice. To pull his arms free. Head hurting. Couldn't draw a breath. Feeling dizzy. Need to breathe. Spots of light appeared in the dark. Pain. Breathe…

"Ok House. It's ok. We're gonna put you back to sleep, let you get some rest."

HHHHHHHH

Cameron pushed the door open and peered around it to make sure no one was there to witness her infraction. The coast was clear, she stepped across the threshold, closely followed by Chase. The room was dark, the blinds drawn. Resisting the urge to switch on the light she made her way across the room, snapping on a pair of gloves and pulling sample cases out of her bag. "You take the den and I'll do the kitchen. Then we can figure out where to go from there." She ordered Chase, her voice low.

Chase was still admiring the vast gilt hallway and arching staircase. He whistled admiringly. "This place is huge! It could take a while." He spun around to get his bearings, then headed towards the den, pulling out his sample containers as he went.

They systematically moved from room to room: examining nooks and crannies, looking under sinks and checking in the fridge. The house and grounds were pristine, kept spotless, presumably, by an army of maids, maintenance men and gardeners. Despite this they found a number of samples with potential for causing an infection which could have been brought in on the husband's clothes or clinging to his skin.

The cupboard in the master bathroom was stocked full of the usual expired vitamins and old antibiotics, but also rewarded them with diet pills, sleeping pills, caffeine pills, anti-anxiety meds and SSRIs all in Sarah's name.

Chase took Hamilton's office, he scoured every inch of the spacious room, pulling books from shelves, checking the drinks cabinet. Saving the desk for last, he looked over the contents on the blotter, photos of Hamilton with high-ranking politicians and a few minor celebrities. No photos of family and none of his wife. He sighed, there was something off about their relationship. The only photos of the couple were years old, judging by the amount of weight Sarah had lost. The topmost desk drawer contained only stationary, the second old bills and correspondence, nothing too salacious. The bottom one, however was locked. Reaching into the top drawer, he pulled out a lethal looking letter opener, which glinted in the morning light, and slid it into the crack at the top of the bottom drawer and slid it along, releasing the latch. It slid open easily. Inside sat an old, battered inhaler, the prescription label long faded beyond recognition. There was also a small, half empty bottle of pills, small and oval. There was no label. He opened the lid and tipped a few into his hand. Apart from the shape they had no distinguishing features. They could have been anything. He grabbed a sample bag, labelled it with the location and a brief description and dropped the bottle in before taking a final sweep of the room and joining Cameron. Satisfied that they had checked everywhere, they descended the sweeping staircase.

Their progress was halted by the sound of a key entering the hand carved front door. They looked at each other in panic, Chase swung around, looking for somewhere to conceal themselves on the vast staircase, but there was nowhere they could go. The handle turned, and before they could even contemplate moving, Hamilton stepped into the entryway. His gaze fell upon them immediately, rendering them statues. He smirked at Cameron, as she tried to stutter an apology then his full attention swept over to Chase, and his eyes flashed in triumph.