Imago Mirror

by November Crash

Their first meeting can not be described as anymore than a long and intense stare in a crowded bar, yet the both of them can feel so much more than that hiding under the surface! Not long after their first encounter, House and November meet yet again - in the hospital, as doctor and patient. He needs his cane, she in turn needs her wheelchair. And as their time together passes they

7. Chapter 7 Three Pills and a Ball

Chapter 07 – Three Pills and a Ball

The first thing that caught his eye, as House crossed the lobby of the PPTH on Sunday morning, were the fountain and the palm tree in the big flowerpot, which he had hid behind the past day. His thoughts with the mysterious paramedic again, who had called November "Crash", he walked toward the elevators and rode up.

After he had sorted his considerations back and forth at night while playing the guitar and had listened to his inner voice, House had gone back to bed. The remainder of the night had passed calmly and he had been able to get a few hours of sleep, after all.

However, those had been much too short and not that restful either. Thus, he was wishing for nothing more than to snooze undisturbedly through the morning in Miss Pickwitch's room, one of the few hideouts yet undiscovered by Cuddy.

November felt completely exhausted and overtired from that night. For a few minutes, she sat on her bed and stared into space, trying to get House's threat out of her mind, which hovered over her like a ghost. She looked at the door and the windows of her room that gave her a view of the corridor. This hectic hustle and bustle, the people out there were intolerable at this moment. She stood up, closed the blinds, and went to the adjoining bathroom to splash a load of cool water into her face. Her eyes were red, burning from the sleepless night. She looked into the mirror and observed the water drops falling from her nose and chin. She did not dry herself off, it felt good to feel the water on her skin. She sat down on one of the chairs in her room, leaned her head against the adjoining wall with her eyes closed, and waited for the things to come and tracked the last water drop on her face.

But first to November! She had been in the hospital here since Wednesday now, had slept off the intoxication of her hospitalization on Thursday and Friday, and yesterday, on Saturday, she had, surprisingly clear and relatively fit, taken off with her wheelie to curiously explore the hospital.

House had made good use of the time before that and compiled an exact medication plan for November. The time had come to begin with the substitution, before the unpleasant symptoms of withdrawal would gain the upper hand and put her body and mind to a hard test. If November really and once and for all wanted to quit the drugs, she was going to make it, with his help. House was convinced of this, and it reminded him of how much he cared for November. The admonishing voice in his ear could whisper as much as it wanted – there was no denying that there was something that connected him and her. Even though he was not yet sure what it was and where this connection would lead him.

The blinds in front of the window and door, which in theory allowed a glance into the patient's room from the corridor, were drawn. Surprised, House stopped in front of November's room. Was she still asleep? He hesitated for a moment and looked at his watch. It was almost half past eight. Maybe she was on the road again already? There was only one way he could figure it out, he thought, and knocked, against his habit, briefly at the door, before entering.

November flinched at the knock and turned her gaze toward door tensely.

House entered the room and saw November sitting on one of the chairs. So she was already awake and not out and about with her wheelie again. However, it looked as if she had only recently got up, her face was still wet from washing. Apparently, she had not dried herself off.

Unfriendly, November commented on his missing greeting: "Oh, you even come yourself to take me to another ward? To say good-bye, I brought you flowers and chocolates from the arse of hell, with the best regards of the past night!"

House looked at November somewhat confusedly. Someone had slept rather badly, he thought and retorted, sharp-tongued, "I'm allergic to flowers and I don´t like chocolates!" Not deigning to look at her another time, he went to her patient's bed and took the clipboard with the notes of the night nurse from the holder.

November left his reply uncommented and watched as he glanced at her file.

House skimmed the text for a moment, and then, without looking up from the file, said, "When you have a secret party at night next time, let me know. I'd love to come by." He pulled a ball-point pen out of his shirt's breast pocket and crossed out the entry with "repeated consumption of drugs" and "suspicious staggering," because he knew that this behavior was due to Novembers CP.

A smile played on Novembers lips as she heard House comment on the entry. "Then you should be punctual tonight," she replied. "On whatever ward I'll have to hold out," she continued, loosening her upper body from the back of the chair and running over her face with both hands desperately. Damn, I do not want to leave here, it went through her head, as she was so grateful to him for exactly such moments. He was the only one who understood what was really going on and made her aware that he had understood and was there in such a pleasant way.

"It says you slept on the table here?" House began, studying November with slight concern, while she was still sitting on the little chair in sweatshirt and sweatpants, making a rather exhausted impression on him. "And why should you be at another ward tonight?" he added casually and put the clipboard back into the holder.

"I hate hospital beds!" November replied with a sound in her voice that clearly conveyed her disgust with the matter in question. "Well, yesterday you were still quite convinced that you want to get rid of me at all costs, after things apparently did not go as planned," November indicated the conversation in which House's ego had more than clearly gotten some scratches.

House pondered what he should reply for a moment. Simply agreeing with November was out of the question in any case, even if it certainly would have corresponded to the truth. Again, his eyes clung to her clothes. That she refused to wear these hideous and scratchy patient shirts he could well understand, but it was not actually her, for a patient atypical, outfit that attracted his attention - no, it was much more the fact that the things she wore told him that she must have had sweated heavily the night before ... House recalled November's words and dodged her comment skillfully, "If you don't want to, you don't have to leave this ward yet."

November listened attentively. Skeptically, she looked at House and could not quite believe what she was hearing, with how dogged and earnest he had been about it yesterday. "How come, so suddenly?" November replied astonished. "Didn't you sleep either, tonight?" she asked out of the blue because she did not know how to explain this change of opinion and when she looked at him more closely, he did not necessarily make a fresh impression himself, after all. November looked into his blue eyes, searching for an answer.

Novembers exploratory gaze hit House completely unprepared, and suddenly this feeling that she could look inside him arose in him again. As soon as the feeling was back, the evoking voices in his head, which he had successfully pushed out last night, also returned. But, the time to pretend or comment sarcastically on her question had expired. So, he chose an honest answer. "Yes," he confirmed briefly, trying to divert the subject away from himself immediately. "You've been sweating a lot tonight," he said with a nod at her clothes. "Did you have a bad dream, or was it the first withdrawal symptoms already?", he wanted to know from her and took a seat on the edge of Novembers patient bed to relieve his leg.

His question reminded her again that House was also her doctor. On the one hand, it did her well to see that someone was thinking about it, on the other hand, she did not really want to deal with it at this moment. November lowered her head pensively for a moment and ran her hands over her short hair. Two days she had spent in twilight sleep, so most of it was still waiting for her, she thought tersely. "It was just a rotten night." She gave House an honest answer with a thoughtful voice, and realized at the same instant that it could get even much more unpleasant if she did not substitute, after all.

House was sure to feel doubt in November. And at the same time, this warning whispering urged its way into his consciousness, which advised him to be careful not to get involved so deeply with another person. But for a moment, however, he managed to push that thought away, and House said, in an earnest, yet well-meaning voice, "You know what's waiting for you if you won't substitute?" He looked at November with a penetrating gaze. She avoided his cool eyes, and he continued, "Don't take the hardest way, just because your pride dictates it to you. You don´t get clean like that." He himself did not know exactly why he said it to her so openly and straight out, as his tone reserved for patients was usually rough and ruthless. But in the presence of November, everything seemed different.

She felt his penetrating gaze unpleasantly clinging to her, but, as it were, also the benevolence in his voice. She took a deep breath and raised her gaze again. November avoided looking him in the eyes and focused on his lips for a brief moment. "I know," she said resignedly and somewhat disappointed by herself, because she did not like the feeling that was just spreading inside her and tried to make her believe she was not fighting hard enough to keep her hands off it for good. If she did not deal with all the pain on her own under the present circumstances, the withdrawal would be far too easy and the way back to the drugs would be much too easy. November also felt that in this instant he knew exactly what was going on inside of her. She looked into his eyes again, while her uncertain look seemed to ask, 'Will you really walk this path with me?'

In November's eyes stood the fear and the certainty about what lay before her. House knew this look, behind it were many unanswered questions. How would it feel? Would it be bad? Worse than now? And would someone be there, when you were doing really poorly and were close to giving up? - All these questions he had asked himself anew with each of his own withdrawals, and now all these worries seemed to be written on November's brow. He would gladly have taken some of them from her, but something held him back. With an encouraging expression, he looked at November. In a cheeky tone, he said, "I've brought you breakfast." A mischievous grin flitted over his face.

"Breakfast?" November asked with a smile as mischievous, since she found in his encouraging look what she needed now to keep her thoughts from sinking into all the questions and the uncertainty. Distraction, as it were, and, again and again, it was also the connection, this particular thing that she felt in his eyes, in his voice, in his aura. November noticed her hands and arms trembling slightly. However, she did not let anything on and put both hands loosely in the pockets of her sweatpants. "English, German, or French breakfast?" November asked, smiling back.

"A balanced pills breakfast – "Medi Crunch"!" House said slightly euphorically, raised his eyebrows challengingly and took three different blister packs from the pocket of his jacket. He held the first pack in the air importantly. "These stop the withdrawal symptoms," he said, and lifted one of the other packs, "These here are against the pain. And these," he presented her the last blister, "let you sleep peacefully!" Cheerfully, he looked at November.

"Breakfast in Cockaigne", November commented humorously and returned his smile. "Great!", she said, motivated. "Just doesn´t look so beautifully colorful," she commented, somewhat disappointed. She pulled her hands out of her pants pockets and noticed that her arms and hands still had not calmed down. Hesitantly, November rose from her chair. She supported herself with one hand on the table. She hardly had the strength to stand and, in the meantime, was really hungry, the bad night, all that seemed to wash over her presently. Sluggishly, she walked a few steps in the direction of House, toward her bed, and sat next to him. Her breath was shallow and the rate increased. She held out her hand toward the blisters and watched her trembling fingers. "Haven´t eaten for too long," November commented casually.

House looked at her trembling fingers interestedly. It aroused his curiosity, his thirst for knowledge. Symptoms were a mystery that attracted him magically, and November was no exception there. Only that he did not quite agree with her own diagnosis. November's hands had formed a bowl in the meantime and waited for the announced breakfast. House took the three blister packs without a word and gave November a tablet of each medication. Then he stood up, took two steps to the nightstand and poured a glass of water for her. His eyes focused back on her twitchy hands, as he passed the glass to November.

November felt the three pills falling into her palms. She tried to figure out which had been the one for sleeping. She did not want to sleep now, she would be doing that long enough tonight. And put one of the three pills aside on the nightstand with a trembling hand. "I don't want to sleep now," she said curtly, while House was handing her the glass of water. But before she could drink from it and take the pills, a pain attack cut through her forehead. Contorted with pain, she pressed her forehead for a moment against House's upper body until the pain subsided. Slowly, November detached herself from House, leaned her head back and took the two white pills with a sip of water.

"Are you okay?" House asked, with an unusually soft voice, and in wise anticipation took the glass back from November, before it fell. The brief moment she had supported herself against his shoulder still continued to burn inside of him. It had not been unpleasant, but something in November's gesture had scared him. Did she really trust him so far? And was he ready to trust her, in fact?

November nodded silently to his question. The comment she had expected to hear about the sleeping pill apparently was not to happen. And at the same moment, she wondered why she had not just taken it yet. Again, she fought with herself instead of making it easy for herself. She sensed that the mood had just changed. But for the moment, November felt too godawful to think about it and lay down on her bed. "Don't worry, I'll be fit and well again in a jiffy," she commented these antics that were so unusual for her, more to calm herself somewhat, than to not alert House any further. She simply had pain, that was all.

Patiently, House kept looking at November. Just the other moment sitting beside him on the edge of the bed, she had now dropped onto her back and lay on the bed. She had closed her eyes and laid a hand flat on her stomach. "I think not," he commented her remark about being fit again in a moment critically. He reached for her arm, enclosed her wrist with his fingers, and looked at his watch. November's pulse was okay. It was unlikely that she soon would lay right next to him with a circulatory collapse, thus.

His touch on her wrist was soothing. No matter how great the pain was, to feel something outside of this sensation of pain, always gave orientation. While House checked her pulse, November responded to his critical remark in a relaxed, calm tone, which she had to strive for visibly, "The medication will kick in latest within half an hour – so, fit and well again in a jiffy," she repeated.

House looked in her face again. Her eyes, she still held closed. But her facial expression, this slight frown, as if thinking hard about something, he knew that. She was obviously in pain. Looking away from her again, he asked in a mild tone, "Where does it hurt?"

Just as she wanted to answer, the pain wandered. Quick as lightning, November rose and pressed both hands firmly against the incredibly strong throbbing and pulling in her left thigh. It was almost a knife-sharp cutting pain that was creeping up her thigh just now, intense and nasty, as if claws were piercing into her muscles. Her face painfully distorted, her lips tightly pursed, holding her breath, she held out against the pain silently, and rocked her upper body gently back and forth. She swallowed the cries that were rising in her out of pain, and at that moment just was glad that House was sitting next to her, someone who surely knew pain in that place better than anyone else.

With increasing discomfort, House watched November. The pain itself had given him the answer to his question. How well he could feel what she probably was feeling now. He looked at the tablet which she had not taken and put on the nightstand. "You better take all the medication. It will go better with the pain then, as well," he said, took both the tablet and the water glass a second time from the table and offered it to November once more, while she still was fighting against her pain.

"No," November commented briefly. "What am I supposed to do with a sleep pill for pain, when I've already taken a painkiller?" November asked, lifted her gaze and looked at her doctor, her facial features relaxing slowly. She reached for the glass, however, drank it all in one go, and, once empty, held it under House's nose. The hand free again, she pressed it once more on her aching leg, but this time visibly more relaxed than just now.

"Just as you say!" House replied calmly, but with a disapproving undertone and put the tablet back on the bedside table, "You're doing a voluntary withdrawal here. If you refuse medication, that's your decision." He watched November put her hand on her thigh again, and the unpleasant feeling that he had just had, improved. It looked as though her pain would slowly subside, after all.

"A doctor who wants to talk me into taking a sleeping pill after I've already taken two medications for pain and withdrawal symptoms, which are going to work sometime soon anyway, and wants to tell me that everything will get better with the third pill does not belong in my room!" November retorted with a strained facial expression, irritated and angry at House's remark. Rather because of the pain, but actually as well because she did not understand why he insisted on this stupid sleeping pill. She would still need it anyway, if she really should have a sleepless night.

It was beyond belief how incredibly stubborn this young woman could be, thought House, realizing that it was probably the best thing to go now. That he would not be able to take care of November tomorrow, he could still tell her this afternoon. House slid from the edge of the bed and said flippantly, "Even so, you won´t get any of my Vicodin for now, it doesn´t play well with the other stuff." With these words, he left her room.

Only slowly did these waves of pain subside, and only with the effect of the tablets did they completely disappear. The single sleeping pill she took and placed it from the nightstand into one of the drawers. She did not want to have that thing around in plain sight anymore. Then she reached for her mobile phone and called Ben. "Ben you'll have to bring me clothes and most of all my MP3 player, otherwise my nights here are going to be agonizingly boring," she asked of her friend.

"No problem, I'll get it to you before my shift starts," Ben replied.

She refrained from mentioning the dope to him again, because she knew she could rely on him and he would take care of it.

Slowly, she straightened herself and sat down on the edge of the bed. After these sudden pains, which had so unexpectedly overwhelmed her, she still felt at least as exhausted as she already had in the morning, completely drained. She went back to the bathroom once more, hoping that cool water would make things better, and that all the agony and restless little spirits of the past night just could be washed off, but it did not help particularly well. The hoped-for feeling of lightness did not come, but rather everything was as always. Heavy and oppressive. She changed her sweater and wore instead of the brown one now a red one with a black checkered pattern.

She was still hungry and had not eaten anything yet. Her breakfast had been taken away again because she had not been able to force down a single bite. Had not known yet that she could stay at his ward. November sat down in her wheelchair and left her room. Whenever she had been alone and awake in those four walls for too long, she was very glad to sense the freedom of the spacious corridors and floors of the hospital, and to watch the hustle and bustle there. She did not have any small change her with her, so she had to get something to eat elsewhere if she did not want to be starved before the next official meal. Asking one of the sisters was out of the question, she would only send her back to her room with this dull food. November stood around in the corridor of the ward for a whole while, watching House's office and team room unobtrusively, while she wondered whether she could get something to eat from there or anywhere else. She decided to go to one of the other floors to see if there was anything like a lounge room, where surely something could be found. Stealing food from other patients was no good plan either way, someone was bound to notice.

On one of the floors, she finally found what she was looking for and glanced into the refrigerator. A lunch box, labeled with the name "J. Wilson" was in there. A mischievous smile flitted over November's lips as House's words came into her mind again. "Contest my best friend for his lunch," he had said. She had not seen another friend of House before nor during her current stay here. So that was her chance. Wilson would surely believe it had been House. She reached for the box and took out two of the delicious-looking, self-made sandwiches and put the box back in its place. With relish, she savored both on the spot before she drove back to the ward and continued to watch the rooms of House's department, comparing with the clock when House left his office for how long, when he came back, and who paid him a visit. After all, she had to know when she could catch up on sleep there undisturbedly.

After she had also endured lunchtime with her first official meal and a little bored zapping through the TV programs, she waited for Ben's visit. The effect of the medications seemed to last, there was no further incident. As she waited, she sank into her own thoughts again. Relaxed, she lay on her bed on the blanket, ready to get up again immediately. During this quiet moment, she realized for the first time on this day that she could spend her further stay here. And would not change wards. Great relief spread across Novembers body. Exactly that was all what she wanted, no more and no less. Be in touch with the one who could give her so much. Contact. This was exactly what she had always been denied - and she enjoyed that moment when she realized that it was not going to be that way this time and really and truly was not so. He was there and would not be gone all of a sudden. Every day anew she could feel, through his presence, all that did her so well - and no doubt also did him good, or there would not be this feeling of connectedness. It just would not be lost, of this she was sure at that moment. For the first time, she did not have to worry about one of those contacts so valuable to her. Lost in this happy realization, a knock interrupted her thoughts. It was Ben who was just entering her room. He had a travel bag with him.

"Hey Crash, you look happy." He began to greet November and close the door behind him. The slats of the blinds were now open, so it was possible to get an approximate view into Novembers room.

"Yes, I've been spared terrible dread. I can further on be treated by House and don't have to leave his department."

"That sounds exactly like what you need. Why he wanted to get rid of you, though, you'll have to explain to me more precisely another time, you know, I don't have much time, my shift starts in a bit." He pointed to the travel bag in his hand. "I brought you everything." He set the black bag down at the foot of the bed. "The dope, however, has to wait a little longer. The dealer still needs time until tomorrow. And I don't want to serve myself here in the hospital, after all, I just started."

November nodded sympathetically, yet somewhat disappointed.

"That means I'll have to make it through the night without again?" she looked at Ben questioningly.

"Yes, you'll have to. Sadly. I promise I'll make up for this delay with a joint joint," Ben answered spontaneously.

November's face lit up. "Sounds like a nice evening. With that outlook, I'll get through this one night without somehow surely, got my MP3 player now at least, after all. My companion is still somewhere in the nowhere," November remarked. And the prospect of an undisturbed evening with Ben, where they could talk to each other about all the important and unimportant things – simply cultivate their friendship – was indeed a pleasant comfort for the dope being a day late. "Thanks again for dropping this off," November added in a good mood.

"No problem, my pleasure. I need to run, my ER shift starts in 15 minutes," Ben said and walked towards the door.

"Take care!" she called after him as he left her room.

What was that!? House turned his head with a jerk and saw someone leave the room of November. It was this paramedic with whom she had met the day before in the lobby. House was on his way to November himself to talk to her again and visibly did not like that this guy came out of her room and strolled through the ward just now. What did that guy want from her, after all?

House made a beeline for the man. The opportunity was favorable and the guy came up to him, unsuspecting and at a moderate pace. With a grim look, he fixed his eyes on the paramedic and stood in his way without a word. Even before he could say anything, House administered him a hefty blow against his shin with his cane.

Contentedly, House watched as the man, completely surprised by his attack, lifted his leg and rubbed his shinbone. That stroke hit home, House thought with satisfaction, staring at the fellow with narrowed eyes, not moving in the least all the while.

Exactly why did this guy look at him so mind-boggling grimly? And why the hell did he have to hit him with his cane, damn it? Ben asked himself as he had this unpleasant encounter with House. Ben decided to ask him right out. He looked at House, his shin burning painfully, and said in a questioning voice, "What exactly was that? Can I help you somehow or anything?"

With a furious look, House glanced at the paramedic and grumbled, "Hands off my patient, are we clear?"

Confused, Ben looked at House, just about to answer, when he realized why he overreacted like that. "I see, so you think because I as a medic just walk into her room, I am going to do something bad to her? Also, why should I believe you're a doctor, the way you're running around here?"

This insubordinate stripling got on his nerves tremendously. What did he actually think of himself? In a gruff tone, House declared, "Firstly, I cannot assess your qualities as a paramedic. Secondly, it is completely irrelevant how I walk around here. And thirdly, out of my ward!" House's outstretched arm points to the end of the aisle, where the staircase was situated. Someone like that should definitely not use his elevator, not on any account.

Ben got more relaxed and laid-back by the minute. As he only now had really noticed the cane. He smiled and said casually, "You have to be Lord Voldemort ... Crash ... well, I mean November, told me about it. Oh, and I just brought her some clothes and her music," Ben replied, still completely calm. During his time in emergency service, he had experienced quite a few defiant, resisting and angry patients by now, so this situation could not make him lose his cool. He gestured with his arm toward the room of November, who was taking her MP3 player out of the bag just now.

Grouchily, House looked through the large window pane from the hallway into November's room. On her bed was a travel bag, which she was digging around in animatedly. House huffed indignantly and turned around without any other word. He simply had no desire for any further discussion with this idiot. Especially not after November, apparently, had told him various things about her and him. Some hurried steps later, House disappeared in his office.

November switched on the TV. "Dr. Mouse" was running. One of her favorite series. While she let the episode flicker across the screen, she devoted herself to her travel bag. The MP3 player, complete with headphones, charging cable and a small portable speaker were right on top. Ben really thought of everything, went through November's head, as she smiled. The player and loudspeaker, she put on her nightstand. The headphones into a drawer, where the sleep pill of this morning caught her eye again. She went to the closet, opened the door and put her bag in it. She glanced to the corridor as she lay back on the bed again to continue to watch the show. Ben and House were walking past each other at that moment. While on the screen "Dr. Mouse" just was on Vicodin withdrawal and, being on his last legs, asked "Who is Jules?"

House entered November's room and at once his eyes wandered from the bed, where November sat, to the TV on the opposite wall. "Dr. Mouse was running!" A horrible series in his opinion. Some crazy doctor, who was himself medication-dependent, miraculously healed patients, and within 45 minutes at that. What nonsense, thought House as he stared at the box. With a critical expression, he turned back to November. "You do know it's all a huge fake, or? A doctor who comes to a suitable diagnosis in 20 seconds ..." House cut off and shook his head.

"… couldn´t care less, I'm not a doctor, you know, and I don´t need to question all the details. I like it. Medical television series should be watched without occupational bias," she said in a good mood, looking him in the eyes. "Do you know who Jules is?" she asked with an interested look in House's direction.

"Don´t care," House growled. He really was not in the mood to talk about this TV series now, all the more as he had to discuss more important things with November. He wanted to be honest with her, for something told him that she had been all the time as well during her stay here up to now. And so, he had made up his mind to tell November in advance that he had a day off tomorrow and would not come - instead of letting her wait for him and be disappointed. He had set his mind on that and would now see his decision through, regardless of his emotional state! "Switch off the box, I'd like to discuss something else with you," he asked of November in a calm voice.

November switched off the TV, pricking up her ears as she heard his last sentence. "Did you yet find HIV or Hep C with me?", she said rather casually and ironically, as she sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at House.

"No, unfortunately not," House picked up her ironic thread and spun it further cheerfully, "The tests Foreman did have sadly all turned out negative." While he said this, as already in their previous conversations, he took a seat in Novembers wheelchair.

November always enjoyed seeing him sitting in her wheelchair. As it had something of security. She felt safe, why, she did not know. "Pity, then we can´t drink to the health of our blood brotherhood, after all," she commented House's ironic reply with an impish undertone.

House raised his head and looked directly at November. "I won´t be here tomorrow," he began to explain, looking straight into her eyes steadfastly, "Because Foreman is on a training course for two days and I really do not want you to have to put up with Chase, Cameron will be looking after you tomorrow and give you your medication. She postpones her vacation by one day, and from Tuesday on I'll be back." With an open expression, he looked at November and, in his mind, he added, I know this is against our agreement, but I hope you agree to it still?

"Won't be here ..." echoed again and again in November's ears, who felt as if she was far, far away at this moment. All of a sudden, all that safety she had felt just a moment ago was destroyed. She only perceived separate word fragments. "Foreman training, Dr. Cameron, vacation", it resounded around her like an echo. She had not expected such a thing, so she did not know how to deal with it indeed. November's stomach fluttered. She kept her gaze still fixed on House, though, this time, even if it seemed empty and almost aghast at first. She closed her eyes for a second to compose herself and spoke in House's direction disbelievingly, "You got what?", she asked more herself than she did ask him, though, and did not expect an answer. Instead, her eyes searched in his for another explanation, for something that did not speak of such a horror. "I don't care who's doing what here. You're free, so it's your problem," November retorted angrily, not quite knowing herself whether it was anger at House, or at the fact that this message just now threw her off track completely. She took her eyes from him and let herself fall backwards on her bed. With an empty look, she stared at the ceiling and thought, "He has passed over our pact ..."

Disenchanted, House threw his head from one side to the other and rolled his eyes, which November did not see, though. Now he had already made an effort to break it to her gently, and she made this impression again that something had hit her hard and robbed her of her safety. He was on the verge of telling her that she shouldn´t make such a fuss, and that she should finally stop this adolescent behavior, since she was not a teenager anymore, after all! But House thought better of it and felt, to his own surprise, that the thought of not seeing November tomorrow displeased him as well. Somewhat clumsily, he tried with an encouragement. "Cameron is nice," he said in a casual tone and waited for the effect of his words.

"Doesn´t need to be, we don't have to talk to each other," November growled back scantly.

That's right, House thought, feeling impatience rising again in him. Why did she have to react this kind of bitchy again now? He thought for a moment. Strictly speaking, the cause for this tricky situation was him, after all. But sacrificing his free day for November? That was out of the question! After this work marathon of the past ten days, he needed a break, and he needed it badly He just wanted to gain some distance from this stuffy hospital work routine for a while. "I know this is against our agreement," he said in an outspoken tone. He tapped the floor with his cane energetically, though it was not meant that harshly. Guided by his impatience, he got up and stepped beside November in her bed. "Hey," he said kindly, eyeing her slender body inconspicuously, "I know it's dull as ditchwater for you here, but I simply need a break, is all." Silently, House hopes that she would forgive him for his honesty this time and not dig her heels in again.

November was indeed relieved when she heard that he had not forgotten the agreement. Surely, she knew that, but she could not make it clear to herself well enough, since the recent news had hit her all too hard. When House stood next to her at the bed, she closed her eyes again for a moment, calmly inhaling his scent, which did her well, as in that night on the stairs. As well, the friendly sound of his voice made her anger disintegrate from one moment to the next. "I'll just sleep the day away tomorrow," she said. "Then it's going to pass quickly, I hope."

"Good," House commented curtly and Novembers voice told him that she was no longer so piqued at the matter. It somehow unburdened him to know that November knew why he would not be there. "Sleeping is a good idea," he said, and added, "Then I'll see you again on Tuesday." And as if driven by an inner instinct, he put his hand on Novembers knee at these words, as if to show her that he was really serious about this and that she could rely on him. Where this need came from, he did not know himself at that moment, but it was there!

She smiled warmly and kindly at House, and looked him in the eye openly. "Yes, on Tuesday," she repeated his words to assure herself once more that he would soon be back here again - even if it seemed incredibly far away to her at that moment.

Contently, House replied her kindly look and left November's room with a calm conscience.

So he would not be here tomorrow. She had completely blocked out the fact that he would be free up to now. Instead, she had to put up with some doctor from his team whether she wanted or not.

Now that she was forced to spend time without him where he actually belonged, where he always was, she became painfully aware how important his presence was for her and how much she needed him. Knowing that there was someone who understood, who took her serious as a person and valued what she brought with her through her experiences with her handicap. All of this he did indirectly, packaging it in metaphors, or on the contrary did not and said things in a very direct way. So direct that it became physically palpable, not just remained words in her head, and thus made it clear what went wrong, what she needed, even if she did not want to see it. That he did all this in his very own way, did her well. She could hardly bear the fact that something related to her, or even she herself, was at the center of attention, or perhaps even mistakes were unpleasantly painfully communicated to her. People like her did not take center stage, she did not have any of that in her life. But there was also his proximity and that which it radiated. His ways had something very intense, which continued to affect her in a seldom encountered manner. For November, above all, this meant support. Support for her soul. All of this did her incredibly well. He could give her so much without having to do anything else. This confirmed to her that it had to be similar for him and that he knew a lot of things just the way she did experience them. She could easily sense and perceive all this like no one else. This was exactly what connected her to him and what she kept feeling. And all of this was taken from her now, unprepared and completely out of the blue.

She stashed her travel bag in the closet, sat down in her wheelchair and stood before the door of her room. Her expression blank. November felt as empty and devastated as if she had been caught in a storm. She tried to dissociate herself from the news, keep it away from herself, searching for distraction again, and again observing the rooms of the diagnostic team. This time, however, she rolled up to a few meters and tried to position herself so that she could not be seen by anyone there. She saw how the team discussed animatedly, but in fact, the pictures rushed past her, as at that moment, she felt so much beside herself, so incredibly wrong in this place, so alien that everything inside her and around her was a single noisy indifferent mass. Her eyes fell on the gray-red felt ball. For a long time, she stared at it. I've got to have that, went through November's head, because it was the only thing right now that was able to let her think clearly again. Slowly, step by step, she had the feeling of docking on to this world again, to be able to think clearly again, when she thought about how she could get a hold of this ball unseen. House was not in his office, but whether he came back once more was unclear. But the team also seemed to be making their way home slowly, as they left the office with their bags and jackets one by one. November rolled out of sight.

In the meantime, only Foreman was left in the conference room. If I want to have this ball, it's probably my last chance, November thought and even a little surprised by herself, she rolled towards the conference room. Foreman seemed familiar to her for some reason. So, there she was, in the middle of the conference room and said with a serious voice to Foreman, "I need that ball over there!", while pointing with her finger to the right side of House's desk. "Do not ask, just do it," she added sternly.

Foreman was very surprised and looked at her with a frown. "I will not do that, what do you want with it? Besides, you belong in your patient room and not this conference room," Foreman replied perplexedly. "Oh yes, of course, patients belong in their rooms, like the animals in their cages at the zoo. Forget these wretched rooms for once! I'm fine, damn it!", November retorted angrily, even though she was not fine in her core. "You won't get rid of me," November kept arguing and felt anger rise in her, which she apparently also radiated. Foreman thought for a moment, Apparently, she is serious about this and I will not get rid of her before she'll have this ball. Besides, it's just a ball, what's going to happen, after all?

A mischievous grin flashed across his face, "This is a nice chance to get one over on House, and also, he hired me to pick locks or steal things," he finished his ponderings and turned to November, "Fine, before you'll eat me alive like a tiger, I'll get it for you." He walked through the door that connected the office to the conference room, took the ball from the desk, came back to November and threw the ball to her. "But I will not take responsibility for this! House loves this ball, and you'll have to deal with his wrath yourself then," he said to November with an admonishing look. November caught the ball with a smile, put it in her lap and replied to Foreman. "I won´t rat you out, no worries. Thank you!" In the meantime, it was late afternoon. She rolled to her room and put the ball on the table in front of her. With a wide smile, she looked at the ball in front of her. It was hard to believe, but it had an effect, she felt good, here, with this ball. On the other hand, it still seemed like eternity until night's rest and she already did not know what to do with all the time even now.

Her eyes fell on her locker, reminding her of her trousers and their disappeared contents. Late afternoon. Probably a good opportunity to reinstate my former needles, she pondered about how to plan her spare time. For a moment, she paused and shook her head, as if to get rid of her thought. Wasn't she here to withdraw? Something deep inside her, however, told her that she would do it again anyway, and if only because of the nights. So, who cares, she thought, and the doubts were gone as quickly as they had come. The ball, she brought to safety in her travel bag, not wanting to leave it out in the open like this, she would still need it, after all. She made her way to the ER. There was a whole lot going on, still hustle and bustle, only in the clinic rooms, it was quiet. Perfect. If everyone is busy in the ER, nobody will notice me in the clinic, November thought smiling, as she observed the situation. She went into one of the empty examination rooms and searched the drawers, for the small, narrow syringes and tourniquets. She found them. Took several syringes and one of the three tourniquets that lay in the drawer and put both in the pocket of her sweat pants. Carefully, she left the examination room and headed for the cafeteria. Still missing the spoon, she thought concentratedly. Also in the cafeteria, the staff were fortunately busy, serving two people. The cutlery was kept right next to the entrance fortunately. Quietly, she took a teaspoon out of the box, put it also into her pants pocket and disappeared again towards the elevator. Back in her room, she drew the blinds and hid the syringe and tourniquet in the tool pocket of her wheelchair, which was under the seat. She put the spoon in her travel bag for the time being. If it was found, it hopefully would not draw any attention without the rest.

The remainder of the evening, and especially the night, she spent playing with the ball, listening to music, and realizing what House had said this afternoon and what it meant. Which also meant that the pain she had suppressed pretty successfully, reappeared. Her forehead supported on House's ball, she realized once again how painfully it had hit her to hear that he would not be there. But now that the rest of the night enveloped the hospital and she could be sure not to be surprised, she could let go of the tears that she had swallowed in the afternoon. Still sitting at the table and leaning her forehead on the ball, she cried bitterly. This was simply not in her plan, did not fit to all her efforts, which had turned out so positive for the first time. At the moment, it was rather what she had experienced in the past, time and again. To accept that it was part of it and, above all, this time would not stay like this forever in no way, took time. Her whole body trembled. Exhausted, she bedded her head again on her arms and fell asleep. Again, she slept rather badly and restlessly before she decided to go to her bed. She took half of the sleeping pill. She thought it best to just sleep away all the painful thoughts. She lay on her side, her hands under the pillow, and between her arms she cuddled up with the felt ball, the only thing that somehow helped against this vulnerable feeling that she now felt. Thanks to the sleeping pill, the night passed without incidents.