Chapter 28

Hi everyone, thank you so much for the reviews, I'm so pleased that people have enjoyed my recent chapters. I didn't mean to imply that I would stop writing due to lack of reviews. It's just that I have had this story planned out for so long, and the previous chapter is the last big turning point before I begin to wrap things up.

Chapter 27 was really fun to write, and I did a load of research on importing meds in South America before writing it. I wanted to start pulling things together and write what it would be like if House couldn't filter out information and how that would affect his deductive powers and his physical state. Thanks to Bakerstreetblues for picking up on that one.

I'm going to have a play with the next few chapters and look at his recovery over the next few months, rather than the initial weeks after his accident. I hope it doesn't feel too rushed.

"He should have responded to the meds by now." Wilson's panicked voice panted from his awkward position stretched across the bed, holding House on his side as he continued to jerk. "It's been almost 10 minutes. You need to push another 4mg of Lorazepam." He shot at Cuddy, who was busy untangling a face mask to increase House's oxygen intake, which had dipped alarmingly. She handed off the tangle of plastic wire to Cameron, who took it one handed, her other hand busy suctioning as House began to vomit again.

Shouts and scuffling could still be heard from the hallway as Foreman and Chase and the belated security team detained Hamilton, waiting for the cops to show up. She grabbed the preloaded syringe from the cart and busied herself with injecting the IV port.

The movements began to slow, as the meds finally worked, until House was at last still. The three doctors let out shaky breaths and slumped over the bed, exhausted as the adrenaline slowly left their bodies.

Not able to help herself, Cuddy reached down to the unconscious man and placed a trembling hand on his upturned cheek, then moved it over to smooth down some of his sweaty hair, taking comfort from his warm skin. Realising she was being watched, she grabbed the mask from Cameron and busied herself with placing it over his mouth and nose, pulling the band around his head and was relieved to see it immediately begin fogging up as he exhaled. Then, avoiding the gaze of her colleagues she straightened up and began to smooth out the sheets.

When she was satisfied that House had come through his seizure, she turned to the other two people. "I think he's coming out of it." Then she paused, watching the other woman eyeing House nervously, unshed tears shining in her large, brown eyes. "Thank you, Dr Cameron, you can leave the rest to us." Seeing that she was about to protest, Cuddy continued. "I mean it…" She paused, seeing the distress in the young woman's eyes, and forced herself to soften her voice. "He wouldn't want you to see him like this." Slowly, her subordinate nodded, glanced at her boss one more time and began to walk towards the door. "Cameron," She called again. "I don't think this hallway is the most appropriate place to hold Mr Hamilton. Please tell security to escort him to my office to await the police. Tell them not to leave his side, and to call me when the police get here." Cameron nodded once again and left the room. Sliding the door shut behind her.

Wilson sighed as he finally released his friend, reassured that the fit wouldn't resume. Then straightened his back painfully, his hands sliding to knead at the protesting muscles surrounding his lower spine. "What the hell was that?" He demanded of Cuddy. "Why were there reporters in House's room? Why didn't you shut it down?" His hands were now planted on his hips as he faced his boss, rings on sweat circled his underarms, his shirt front damp with perspiration from the effort of holding his friend in place.

Cuddy balked "Do you actually think I didn't try? Hamilton forced his way into the room with his band of cronies. They wouldn't leave and security was nowhere to be found. They didn't care that House is clearly injured. They just wanted their story." She found that she was gesticulating wildly, and lowered her arms, grabbing the bedrails to hide her shaking hands. The fight suddenly left her as she looked down at House. "There was nothing I could do to stop it." She reluctantly admitted. To hide her shame, she reached down to straighten the mask on his face. "House actually solved the case. He was almost like his old self. Except…"

"Except he wasn't." Wilson finished for her. "I only caught the end, but I've never seen House like that before. I couldn't even keep up with his train of thought."

She looked at House's unconscious form, feeling a mixture of wonder and concern. "It was almost scary how quickly he was processing information. You could actually see it. He deduced that Hamilton was trying to kill his wife from tan lines and an old inhaler."

Wilson sighed and looked down at his friend, unmoving, still spawled on his side. What did this mean for his best friend? He thought to himself. His medical knowledge was intact. His intelligence had obviously not suffered any ill effect from the brain injury. But what had he lost? House could no longer bear to be touched. Lights and excess noise caused him pain. His long-term memory was compromised. He no longer remembered the connection he had formed with his team, and, despite the fact that he had begun to connect with Wilson and Cuddy, he still couldn't relate to them in the same way. Would House ever be the same man he was before? "He's soaked through." He sighed, "I'm going to get him some clean sheets." He said, resigned, and walked out the door.

Cuddy set about ridding the room of all traces of the recent emergency. Disposing of the spent needles in the sharps container. Closing drawers and stowing away the suction apparatus and making notations in the chart. As Wilson entered the room again with a new gown, sheets and a steaming bowl and towels, Cuddy was gently rolling House onto his back and straightening his tangled limbs. Wilson placed the bowl on the table, Cuddy quirked an eyebrow at him. He shrugged, "House hates the nurses touching him."

"Ok." Cuddy replied, rolling up the sleeves of her cardigan then opened his gown, gently pulling his arms out of the sleeves. Wilson grabbed a towel and soaked it into the hot water in the bowl, handing it to Cuddy before grabbing one for himself. Gently she began sponging the sweat from his face and neck before rewetting the towel and passing it over his sodden hair.

They had just changed the sheets and gotten House into a clean gown when they both heard a low groan from the man in the bed. Two sets of eyes met above the bed, apprehensive, then looked down at the man returning to consciousness. "House…" Wilson prompted. "Hey buddy, can you hear me?" Another soft groan floated up to them. Slowly, House began to move his limbs, as if trying to get comfortable.

Cuddy joined in trying to help her friend back to consciousness. "House, it's ok. Try to open your eyes." Again, he didn't speak, continuing to squirm restlessly, groaning, his movements becoming more agitated, roaming restlessly around the bed as if searching for something. Wilson reached down and placed a comforting arm on his shoulder, trying to ease him into consciousness. "House, it's ok. You're ok. Try to settle down." He uttered in soothing tones. But they had not effect. The man continued to writhe, increasing in intensity until his right thigh hit the bed rail with a thud. He yelped and arched his back away from the sudden pain. His eyes shot open but were unfocused and filled with pain.

"House, it's ok. Just breathe." Cuddy reached down, also placing a steadying hand on his shoulder, but he flinched away at the sensation of their combined touch. Both doctors withdrew their hands as if burned. He rolled slightly to his right side, his hands holding his thigh against the pain.

Finally, his eyes focused a little and he quickly shot a searching look at the two people stood over him. Seeing that it was Cuddy and Wilson he looked away again. "Wha happ'd?" He slurred through the mask; his eyes fixed on nothing in particular, hands still clamped on the source of his pain.

"You had a seizure." Wilson filled him in. "You were disoriented after. You hit your leg on the bed as you were waking up."

"Hurts." He grunted through gritted teeth, eyes now closed against the pain, his body tense.

Gently Wilson pulled the sheet back to check out the spot he hit. A bruise was already forming along the taut scar. Not able to bare seeing him in pain on top of what she had witnessed during the course of the afternoon, Cuddy pulled open the cart and began to draw up a low dose of morphine and injected it into the IV port. Incrementally he began to relax. He opened his eyes again, which slowly moved to the table and the water jug perched on top. Sensing what he needed, Wilson poured him a glass, stuck a straw in it and brought it to his friend's lips. House sucked thirstily, emptying half the cup in one gulp, he continued until the glass was empty, then relaxed his head on the pillow.

After a moment he looked to Wilson. "Feel strange." Restless hands strayed to the oxygen mask, exploring it with his fingers. He tried to pull it away from his face to get a better look at it, but the elastic held it in place. His brows knitted together in confusion.

"It's from the seizure. It'll pass." Wilson reiterated.

"You'll have to leave that there, your sats are still a little low." Cuddy jumped in, reaching down to readjust the mask. Trembling hands suddenly strayed from the mask to his head, where he cradled it. Closing his eyes again.

"Do you have a headache?" The oncologist questioned; a slight nod was the only answer. "How bad?" House only grimaced, clutching his head further. Wilson exchanged a concerned glance with Cuddy. "I'm going to have to do a neuro check, we've gotta make sure the seizure didn't cause any more damage.

HHHHHHHH

Cuddy straightened her skirt and ensured her top hadn't drifted too low, before drawing a calming breath and opened the door to her office. Hamilton was sat on Cuddy's low sofa, flanked by two burly officers. A third plain clothed police officer stood off to one side, talking into the radio attached to her stab vest. The hospitals own security guards were hovering near the door, avoiding her glare, but ready to leap into action should the situation require it. Chase and Foreman were sat at her low meeting table at the other side of the room, silent.

"You in charge here?" The female officer gesturing to Cuddy. When the officer received a swift nod, she continued. "I need to know what is going on here. We have a local politician accused of attempted murder and the weapon is an inhaler! Would you care to enlighten me on the events leading up to his detention?"

"Officer Lopez, I assure you, this is all a big misunderstanding. This woman's employee is obviously very sick and didn't know what he was saying." Hamilton's smile was fixed and assured as he tried to discredit his accuser.

Lopez turned to the politician in the chair. "I think it's about time someone else spoke for a change. Don't you?" She then turned again to Cuddy. "Dr…" She paused here.

"Cuddy. Lisa Cuddy." She filled in. Lopez noted the name in a small notebook then looked at her expectantly.

"Dr Cuddy, please continue." She prompted; her pen poised above her notebook.

"We have been treating Mr Hamilton's wife following a severe car accident, in which she also injured one of my doctors, Dr House. She suffered extensive burns over her body, but was beginning to make progress, up until a week ago when she began to deteriorate. Two of my staff members conducted an environmental search of the home."

"An illegal search conducted without my knowledge or permission." Hamilton shot at Chase.

Lopez looked from him to Chase, quirking an eyebrow. "I take it you were one of the doctors who conducted the search?" Chase nodded, she then turned to Foreman, "Were you the other one?" He shook his head. Turning back to Chase, "I need their name and where to find them." When she got the information she needed, she sent one of her officers to track down Cameron. Then she made several notations in her book and again looked at Cuddy, expectantly.

Taking a small breath, she continued. "The evidence was seized by the police after my doctors were arrested for breaking and entering, among other things. Mr Hamilton was evidently upset by these events. He showed up at my hospital with reporters, I presume with the intention of discrediting my staff. I was treating Dr House in his room at the time. Hamilton entered the room and would not leave. Dr House then accused him of attempted murder." Here she faltered, explaining House to Officer Lopez was, if anything, more complex than the actual case.

"So, you're saying that Hamilton entered a patient's room and wouldn't leave, and his purpose was to humiliate you, a doctor who runs the hospital his wife is being treated at. I get the feeling there's a lot more to this story than you are telling me."

An hour later, the details had been laid out, Lopez listened at first, then asked many probing questions, ensuring she understood everything she needed to know.

Finally, she sighed, "I take it Dr House is not able to come down here to answer any questions."

"No, he's not." Cuddy replied, her voice full of conviction.

"And there's no way he would be up to a face-to-face interview tonight?" She looked as though she knew what the answer would be but had to ask anyway.

Cuddy looked her straight in the eye. "Absolutely not. He suffered a prolonged grand mal seizure and needs rest." She was relieved to see Lopez nodding, accepting her answer.

The officer raised herself stiffly off the desk, where she had perched during Cuddy's explanation of events. "In that case, I think it's time we all took a trip downtown."