Chapter 10 – Boundaries
November awoke. Slowly she crawled out from under the blanket and sat down on the edge of the chair. At last she felt alert and fit. She smiled, because the pain in her thighs had finally disappeared too by now. Again, she let her gaze wander through the room. She did not get far with it, however, and paused for a moment, frightened. Her wheelchair was gone! It was missing! Where it had been standing just a few hours ago, now a terribly empty spot was gaping in the room. Who might have taken my wheel..., she thought, when the answer shot through her head like a bat out of hell: House! Of course! Who else, they had been fighting over Bally this morning, after all. That had to be the reason for it. November glanced at her cell phone to check the time. Ben should be here any moment.
It did not take long before he stood in the doorway, beaming. "Hey, ready to go?" Ben asked with a joyful smile on his face in leisurewear this time. He wore a white T-shirt and blue-black jeans. On his right wrist, his silver bracelet with the "Give & Take" lettering was gleaming. November got up. "Sure," she replied smiling, and was glad to be in the company of Ben and not have to hang out here alone any longer. Together they went off, but not without once again stopping at the nurses' room. November had to settle a score with someone... However, the sister unwaveringly refused to come out with House´s cell phone number. On the grounds that he had mentioned nothing like this, and that patients would never get access to private data of their treating physicians else. "Else ..." "I do not care about else and it does not matter in this particular case," November interrupted the nurse annoyedly, but it did not help. November tried it a few more times, with more or less convincing arguments, but the sister remained adamant.
In this moment, Wilson happened to come by. "Can I help?" he tossed in, as he was not yet on to the situation, but felt very much that the air was heavy with trouble.
With a sigh and seeking for sympathy, November addressed Wilson. "This much estimated nurse here does not think it necessary to give me House´s number even after multiply asking her for it and with extensive explanations. Before Wilson was able to reply, November seriously added, "Have you seen House yet today?" She asked with an uninterpretable undertone in her voice.
Wilson considered for a moment. Did she know that House was on the move with her wheelchair or did she not know? Finally, he replied briefly and evasively, "Yes."
November looked at the oncologist with a knowing smile. "He got it, right?" she asked, just to be perfectly sure.
Wilson gave a sigh. So she knew it. „Yes," he began and started to shake his head again, „he´s jetting around already the whole morning, jeopardizing the corridors. Sometimes he really is worse than a small kid!"
November´s smile turned into a content grin. This, she could vividly imagine, House rushing through the corridors in her wheelie, a bright grin on his face.
"Thanks", November said and completely casually added, "Can´t you give me House´s mobile number?"
"Sure", Wilson agreed after pondering briefly and pulled his smartphone from a pocket. Like this, he could take revenge on House at least indirectly for the mess he had caused in the oncology ward!
Ben waited patiently until Wilson had dictated the number to November and then walked towards the elevators together with her.
The walk to the roof was more strenuous than November remembered from last night, after all. Once more, she felt her hurting calves. I will pay him back for that, November thought to herself angrily. Luckily, Ben was with her, so she could tuck her arm into his for support. The steps up to the roof were not as easy to climb as the last time by far. After only about ten steps, she felt her upper thigh more than distinctly. An unpleasant pulling with every step. It was strenuous. Gasping, November clambered the last steps.
On the roof, the two of them got comfortable. Ben had thought of everything once more and somehow managed to inconspicuously get two folding chairs up here. Howsoever he might have done that. November let herself sink into one of the chairs exhaustedly. Her muscles virtually were vibrating and had the consistency of jelly.
Breathing out relaxedly, November enjoyed getting a breath of the pleasantly cool evening air. The view was amazing. Right on the golden-yellow-pink colored sky of Princeton. Ben passed her the joint. The grass spread its sweetish scent around November. "I'm loving this stuff already for its scent alone!" she said, tilting her head back, and took a first puff in a relaxed manner. The grass made this absolutely wonderful moment perfect. She pulled her cell phone from her sweatpants. Already on waking up, she had had a hunch that it had most certainly been House who had nicked her wheelchair. The grass spread its sweetish scent around November. While she was already texting House, she took some more puffs from the joint. "Well, did my Nimbus pitch you already? ;-) He doesn´t like it when strangers ride him. He tends to get bitchy then and acts rather as stubborn as "Mashed Potato" ; ) In this case, please consult Bibi Blocksberg, she knows better how to get upset broomsticks in line again!" She pushed "Send" and a wide smile appeared on her lips.
After lunch with Wilson, House had decided to go for another spin with November´s wheelchair. His Team was provided with tasks and so he could spend the time on testing his new sports device for its outdoor usability! The park of the hospital facility was the perfect fit for that! A whole hour he had rushed through the paved walkways of the green space and startled patients and caregivers.
At this moment he was rolling, the critical eyes of the receptionist following him, through the lobby to the elevators, as he heard a familiar voice behind him.
"HOUSE!" the voice barked angrily and he glanced over his shoulder to check. It was Cuddy! In a devilishly quick pace, she tottered towards him in her forbiddingly high heels, which made her body move in ways that were anything but unsightly.
"Are you completely off your rocker now?" she started to splutter, even before she had reached House, moving through the densely packed crowd. "What are you doing in a patient´s wheelchair?" she added in outrage, scraping by a cluster of people who were waiting in front of the outpatient clinic.
"I am practicing inclusion," House replied sovereignly and rolled towards the elevators more quickly. He urgently had to escape from Cuddy!
"House," she cried after him angrily while she had to watch him gaining distance easily with the wheelchair and people making way for him and she herself got stuck among all those people. "Stop, darn it!" Cuddy tried to keep him with words once more but there was no point! House reached the elevator in the last second and rolled into the empty cabin, before the doors closed behind him.
House had hardly found the time to rejoice at his successful escape, as the phone in the pocket of his pants gave a familiar beep. Curious as to who might have sent him a text, House pulled his cell phone from his pocket and skimmed the text.
November! So she had gotten his number from someone and obviously knew that he was roaming about with her wheelchair. Her words did not make it sound as if she was missing her set of wheels that much though and she seemed to rather be amused at him having borrowed it. However, House thought it best to roll back to the diagnostic ward and return the wheelchair to November, his Bally had returned home as well, after all!
To his surprise, though, he found his office empty when he rolled inside and glanced at the chair. His ball lay in the bowl and the wool blanket hung over the back of the chair, folded meticulously. November would not have returned to her room, certainly?
House rolled down the corridor – but here, as well, no chance. Back in the hallway, Wilson ran into him.
"Wilson!?" House said and stopped him in his tracks.
Wilson stood still and looked down to the diagnostician, still an unusual sight in the wheelchair, just like in the morning. "Hey, sports champion," he replied and was about to move on already, when House stopped him a second time.
"Have you seen November?" he asked hurriedly and Wilson thought to recognize a certain disquiet in his friend´s voice.
The chaos on his ward not yet fully forgotten, the oncologist replied, slightly offended, "Well, in case you finally want to give her property back to her, you´re too late. She left just now!"
"What do you mean, left?" House asked puzzledly, and looked up at Wilson with a questioning expression.
"Well," Wilson started and wondered why House was getting so serious all of a sudden, "about twenty minutes ago, she left your ward together with a man."
"Together with a man?" House repeated confusedly and corrected himself right away, „You mean, together with a paramedic in uniform?"
"No," Wilson answered him back clearly and, in a matter-of-fact tone, clarified, "I mean a completely ordinary man." Adding emphasis to his words, he added, "Guess he was about her age."
The gears in his head were turning and his next sentence almost stumbled from his lips.
"Was it a guy with a brazen grin painted on his face, broad shoulders and short dark hair?" he dug deeper and could hardly wait for the reply.
"Yeah, might be," came from Wilson who slowly got irritated by House´s demanding tone of voice. "What about it agitates you so much, anyhow?" he wanted to know and peered at his friend, whose expression did not allow for any conclusions though. "You aren´t jealous, or are you?" Wilson noted critically and immediately got the riposte for his provocative question.
"Nonsense!" House hissed and attacked his friend with the next question right away, „Where did they go, Wilson?"
"I don´t know!" he replied truthfully, and getting louder.
The counter question from House came not any less loud, "But in which direction they went, you certainly saw that, or not?"
"Yes," Wilson huffed, now visibly miffed at the gruff way House was talking to him. He knew his friend well enough to know that he would not leave him alone until he had his answer. Thus, Wilson spoke the words of relief as fast as possible, "They went to the elevators."
Without another word, House rolled off. Irritated, Wilson looked after his friend. Since November was House´s patient and now apparently more than that too, his behavior was getting increasingly weird. Wilson could not really explain to himself why this strange development was causing such a headache for him but sooner or later he would talk about it to House…
House, who had been sitting in November´s wheelchair already half the day, had not even gotten the idea to fetch his cane and be on his way on foot. For the moment, he simply was faster with the wheelie. Now he stood in the elevator with this thing and stared at the control panels with the many buttons. Suddenly, the scales fell from his eyes and all of a sudden, he knew where he had to look for November and her companion. Convinced and absolutely certain, he pushed the button for the topmost floor…
That he had not taken his cane, took its toll now at the latest now, as the last steps to the roof exit lay before him. It had been damn difficult to get up there already with the cane – but, without? Sure, it was not impossible, but House paused for a moment. Why did he want to get up there even? He could just as well stay downstairs and wait until November and this guy came back down! And hadn´t he been up there just yesterday? Why the heck had she hidden herself away on the roof again!? His unsatisfied curiosity kept bothering him.
In the meantime, November had puffed on the joint two more times and returned it to Ben. By now, the stuff was showing effect, too. And that felt damn well! Which meant that it became increasingly harder for November to be able to reply to Ben´s statements. So, she just kept quiet and listened to what he said. "It´s really beautiful up here, when the sun is sinking slowly," November mentioned finally, and continued, "There´s one thing I don´t get, though," she began, turned to Ben, while he took a drag of the joint. It took her some moments to word her thought further. "Why does House dislike you?" "I have no idea," Ben started, passing the joint back to November. "Maybe some doctor-patient thing. He says I should leave my hands off you. Maybe he´s afraid, being a paramedic, I could endanger the treatment of his patient."
"In a sense…" November started and could not hold back a giggle, "he´s right, I guess. Even if it´s up to me, in the end. However, he doesn´t know about that. Up to now, at least," she finished her last sentence. With relish, she inhaled another puff of the green mixture, just as the door to the roof was roughly being pushed open.
After an incredible torture, House had managed to get up the steps. His leg burned and felt as if someone had tried to severe it in vain with a blunt axe. What he saw, however, made him forget his pain at once. November and her friend – this, this… Ben! – they sat there together on two white folding chairs in the sunset and were smoking a joint! "Hey!" he hollered at the two, foaming with rage, and gave vent to his pain, which was almost driving him crazy, by that as well. "What are you doing there?" House roared at them from in front of the door with his last strength, gasping. Of course, he knew what was happening here, as the smell was unmistakably distinct, but he eagerly wanted to know, what November would say to him in reply.
November slowly turned around to him and replied with a smile, "Pie-eating contest. You´d like to join us? Should be good for you in your present state, even if it probably is too weak to mute everything that´s torturing you right now," November said casually, extending the joint towards House with an inviting look. It had not escaped her that House had appeared here without his cane and was still virtually clinging to the door handle. Apart from that, the effort he had made on the way upstairs was clearly visible, even at this distance. November was certain that he could not easily say no in this state, and through the lung, the active substance definitely would arrive faster to where it belonged than Vicodin would be able to take effect through the stomach. Ben as well turned around for a moment. "Talk of the devil," he thought to himself and briefly smiled to House in greeting. He sensed that this certainly would be no easy conversation and he probably would find himself in the firing line of House.
"Pie-eating contest?" House echoed slightly irritated and, not least, because he could not think of anything to say in this unexpected situation at the first moment. That November and Ben had hidden away up here with a joint – this thought would have crossed his mind last of all. However, at a closer look, he could have thought of that, actually, he had thought that Ben was her dealer initially, after all! "The party is over!" he said in a serious tone and decided to let go of the door handle and limp the last ten yards up to them.
"No it´s not," November replied in a relaxed manner, took another puff and held the joint out to House a second time. "We´re hardly going to leave this back here carelessly," she stated seriously. At the latest now, the dope was taking effect definitely. November felt a pleasant heaviness in her arms and face, giving her the impression of pulling her downwards. But apparently, she still sat on her chair just as before. "So. What now?" November asked, with a feeling that at least five minutes had passed between the current and the last sentence. She looked House in the eye.
He on his part just barely made it over to the folding chairs, when the few remaining muscles in his leg cramped so strongly that he had to cling to the back of Ben´s chair to not fall. Before he could begin to answer, he saw November´s friend getting up from his chair.
Ben had not missed either that House had arrived up here completely exhausted. His eyes sought his glance and he gestured with an offering motion to his chair.
House looked at the now vacant seat but for the moment, pride kept him from accepting the offer. His face contorted with pain, he turned to November. "Give it to me!" he snarled grimly and almost whipped the joint out of her hand.
November smiled knowingly about her assumption having worked out.
With a sweeping gesture of his hand, into which he packed all his rage in this moment, House flung the joint over the edge of the roof. Still gasping and with unmistakable satisfaction, he looked after the grass!
Startled, November watched the joint as it flew over the edge of the roof in a high arch. Ben as well looked after it with a sad expression. "Hey, Crash, what now, shall we go after it?" he asked November with a wry smile.
"Oh yes please, absolutely! Jump for me too? You know, I can´t so well myself… on the other hand…" she paused briefly, "my name is Crash, after all…" she said in reply to Ben but then immediately turned to House. "Are you completely mad?!" she bellowed at him. "That was top of the line grass, man!" she added and gestured with her arms. "I would have let you indulge in it, but just keep suffering then. Always these doctors who don´t want to be treated…" she reproached him without being able to think about it, or wanting to think about it.
"I don´t care how expensive the stuff was!" House held against it adamantly, giving Ben a withering glance, until he turned back to November, who was still looking to the edge of the roof with a disappointed expression. House's heated temper, even now – when the joint had disappeared – did not cool down in the least. "If you already want to jump so urgently, then just go and do it!" he barked at November negligently, yet caved to his inner urge and sat down in Ben´s vacant chair.
November got up, walked up to the edge of the roof, went down on her knees and peered over the edge of the roof to locate the joint. She did not jump though, but made her way back with an effort, crawling on all fours. "Oh my, damn. It´s fallen into a puddle! Well done! If you were with the drug squad, you surely would have gotten an extra star for your shoulder emblem," she ranted, pressing herself against her chair strainedly to get up and sat down. "Happy now?!" she asked annoyedly, seeking House´s gaze. Did not find it this time, though, as through her intoxication, she saw him only blurred, had to seriously wonder in some moments whether he really was sitting there, as he became a person whose presence November suddenly was not sure about anymore. What her eyes saw seemed so unreal. Who are you, went through her head several times, while she looked at House strainedly.
"No," House retorted aggressively and just said, "I´m not happy yet und that your joint is laying in the puddle now serves you right!" He glanced to November´s face briefly but intensely. Her skin was unnaturally pale and apparently, she had trouble focusing. "And as for you," House looked at Ben with angry and narrowed eyes, "If you are going to keep supplying November with drugs, I´ll make sure that the both of you will get kicked out!" He saw that Ben seemed little moved by his words, which induced House to add, "And just to make this clear as well: If you are going to interfere in the treatment of my patients again, then –" November interrupted him.
"Could you please talk two seconds slower, I can´t follow else", she chimed in, and finally spoke calmly. "House. This is my decision, he shouldn´t be fired for it. And if you tell me where you live, I´ll be gone. In a flash, all your problems are solved." November looked at House for a few seconds again. "… are you still there?" she whispered questioningly, rather to herself than she was addressing House.
"Yes, yes," House uttered mockingly, getting louder with each word, "come to the defense of your so-called friend! At least it proves that you´re in bed together!" Meanwhile, in his rage, he missed that November´s eyes increasingly glazed over, and she began to sway forth and back in her chair.
"Huh?" November murmured, furrowing her brow. "What bed are you talking about?!" She would have liked to point her index finger at House now, but her arm simply was too heavy. November did not know whether her sense of balance was playing a trick on her or whether she really kept swaying forth and back subtly. "All that is not… I mean, he hasn´t done anything bad." November paused for a moment. As so often when she overdid it with smoking, stomachache befell her, and slight nausea. Like it did just now. She tried to not let it show and kept on talking. "I put that bug in his ear, not the other way around. Anyway. None of us said no to appeal to the other's conscience, either way. Or do want that we´ll arrange it with you and my treatment plan next time?" She paused. "One moment, why was I here after all…?"
"I don´t care at all about whose idea it was to get stoned up on the roof!" House snapped in a hostile tone and focusing November in vain, who seemed to look through him with her dilated pupils. "I simply don´t want you to take whatever stuff!" he admitted, wondering himself about his outspokenness for a second.
"That is the least you should want, as my doctor. The opposite would be rather contraindicated. Though, then you probably would be me." November laughed out and for a short moment she understood how stupid it was to get stoned so outrageously in the midst of her withdrawal. The nights were a whole different thing and didn´t have anything to do with this. This here had happened just for the fun of it.
It slowly dawned on House that it was impossible to deal with November in this state. No matter how much he worked himself up into a frenzy, it would not get him anywhere! Suppressing a sigh, he ran his flat palm across eyes and nose. "You know what?" he began with an annoyed voice and did not manage to get himself under control, "I´ve had enough! I can´t be arsed, don´t feel like it and don´t have the time – to climb up to the roof after a drug addict every night and to remind her of the goal of a withdrawal!" With a mixture of testiness and disenchantment, House glared at her. "Kindly get yourself a new babysitter!" he added in an angry tone.
Something like fear rose in November. Pensively, she kept her head lowered. That was it now? It´s over? Do I really have to go now? Did he really mean it? All this ran through her head, but she could not say it, as much as she would have liked to, she could not get one word out. Besides, her stomachache made itself known to her consciousness with all clarity just in this moment. So, she was much too busy with not breathing too deeply to evade the nausea.
Ben sensed quite clearly that the situation would not end well if they stayed up here on the roof any longer. So, he thought it best to retreat together quickly now. Before it all boiled up even more, he made a suggestion to the two brawlers. "How about we all go downstairs again? We´re not getting anywhere here anyway now," he said, looking expectantly from November to House.
House remained silent, pressing his jaws together barely noticeably. Inwardly, he agreed with this Ben, the suggestion made sense without a doubt – but he certainly would not follow this suggestion first! His eyes expectantly wandered to November, who seemed to go through the peak of her high.
Slowly, November got up and walked towards the door, step by step. Her jaw muscles did their own thing all the while. Her legs as well were even less willing to follow any orders. With every new step, November felt as if her upper thighs would forsake her. But apparently it only felt that way, as somehow, she still seemed to get forward. To be on the safe side, November stuck to the careful, shallow breathing. After what felt like an eternity, she finally arrived at the door. With wide eyes, she turned around, seeking for House and Ben. November snuggled her cheek against the cold metal door, leaning her upper body sideways against the door for support, her left arm placed over the door handle.
With an effort, House as well got up and followed November. Behind him, with some delay, walked Ben. With his last strength, he made it to November, who already stood at the door, clinging to it. House, after this short but bothersome distance, also sought support at the metal door. Why oh why had he come up here without his cane? He propped himself against the door leaf with his hand and leaned against it with his shoulder until Ben had closed the distance between them. His eyes met November´s for a short moment at that. She was not any less at her limit than he was. How the hell were they supposed to get downstairs again like this?
Ben saw the two of them holding on to the door. They reminded more of limp dishrags than of people who stood on their own feet safely. "Let me pass," Ben asked them, "I got an idea" and he walked ahead to the staircase and down the first two steps, requesting November and House to follow him from there. "I have two arms free. We should manage like that."
"Good idea," November replied exhaustedly and walked up to Ben to place her right arm around his shoulder, grabbing the handrail with her left. Ben supported November by placing his arm around her waist.
"You go!" Ben hissed in the direction of House, who still stood upstairs in the door.
House stood on the landing dead still. He was supposed to trust this guy? After he had insulted Ben and threatened him, he really wanted to offer him his assistance, without any ulterior motives? No, he wasn´t foolish enough to fall for this trick. Pain or no – he had come up here on his own and without his cane, he would manage to get downstairs again on his own and without his cane as well! "Thanks, but no thanks," House said in a cynical tone and turned away from Ben. "I´m quite able to walk some steps without assistance." As if he needed to convince someone of his intention, he added, "I didn´t smoke anything, after all."
November smiled a bit. "Then I´ll have Ben to myself. Fine as well," she tossed in.
"Oh, don´t mention it!" House retorted sardonically, „Just keep your sonny boy all to yourself."
Ben ignored House´s remark nonchalantly. A discussion made no sense now anyway. Either he would come with them now, or not. That was really up to him. After all, this was no rescue mission where he would have been obliged to fulfill his responsibilities as a paramedic. So, he simply left him standing there and slowly began to move together with November.
One hand around the handrail on the side of the wall, House set his right foot on the first step. However, his movement, which was supposed to just get him a few inches deeper, let him slump a whole bit at once. Reflexively, he grabbed for Ben´s shoulder and hung on to it.
When Ben felt a hand on his shoulder, he stopped even as reflexively and gave House time to bob up. Once again, he offered him the spot at his right side, seeking his eyes.
In this moment, House was very thankful for the fact that November´s friend stood within reach. Otherwise, his solo run would have ended faster than he cared for, with many painful bruises. He looked at Ben´s face and was more than surprised by the look in his eyes. There was no guile, no suspicion – just the clear and plain offer to hold on to his arm. The distrustfulness left House´s features within seconds and with a growled "Thanks", he grabbed for Ben´s upper arm. Perhaps this guy was not as bad as he had assumed at first, after all?!
Together, the three of them walked down the stairs, step by step – Ben in the middle, November at his left and House at his right side. November seemed to be rather amused by it all and said, with a giggle, "I like this rhythm – the three of us should go out together more often!"
"I´ll put up with that only when I´m stoned as well then, though!" House retorted to November´s remark and grit his teeth again at the next step.
November laughed out loud in amusement. "That should not be a problem, as you will have noticed," she replied and focused on the descent again. Still there was this big, shaky nothing in her legs, which did not make it easy for her and made her muscles tremble.
"As I´m seeing, you´d have your enjoyment without me as well?" Ben tossed in questioningly in a humorous tone.
"If anyone will ever learn that I had to walk down the stairs arm in arm with a stoned patient and a paramedic, I´ll quit!" House said grimly, as they almost had arrived downstairs. The stabbing pain in his leg had accompanied his every step. But they were almost there. The wheelchair which House had left there before his ascent, still stood at the end of the stairs.
Once downstairs, November sat down on one of the last steps to take a breather, as now at the latest, she distinctly felt her legs again. Relieving her muscles felt incredibly well. She could virtually feel how the tension and pain slowly but surely receded and eased up. November leant back almost comfortably and waited for House to pass by her. Her glance moved from him to indicate her wheelchair. "You take it. I still have Ben, after all. You would be left with nothing else", she said to House, who still did not look any better than before on the roof. House´s look contained a mixture of skepticism and being on the edge and before he could even reply, November took the word again. "That´s what you do for a friend. And now stop looking like that, sit down and keep your trap shut!"
Perplexedly, House still was looking at November. What had she just said to him, he should keep his trap shut? And not only the contents, as well the tone of her message echoed in his thoughts. Had she sobered up on the short bit, from the roof down here, that much? Or was it rather the effect of her jag, that let her utter such challenging sentences?" Finally, House decided for the latter and took a seat in November´s wheelchair without another word. He was too exhausted and a great deal too much out of breath to be able to hurl a snappy come-back at her now.
November got up and tucked her arm into Ben´s right upper arm. Like that, the three of them made their way into the elevator. Once arrived, November occupied one of the corners in the back. So, she found enough support. With a dim sound, she let her forehead drop against the cool metal and closed her eyes. She held on to the handrail in front of her convulsively. The nausea and the stomachache were back again, in all clarity, and could not be ignored. Heat rose inside her and she felt her hands trembling. In spite of her clinging to the handrail so firmly that her wrists already were white and more apparent. She felt as if even her breath was trembling. With a pained groan, she pressed her face closer to the cool metal, in the hope that it would provide her more relief.
House had rolled in the corner opposite of November. His muscles were still burning but the fact that the pain was decreasing little by little, brought him relief. From down here, one really had a whole different perspective of things. He saw how November convulsively clung to the handrail of the elevator cabin and pressed her head against the wall. It was not the first time that he saw her like that. House knew that November used to overdo it in her jag, and so it was not improbable that she would collapse sooner or later this time as well. One brow raised, his glance went to Ben briefly, who took the opportunity to whistle a cheerful tune, while he watched the display panel above the door and the elevator moved downwards. If he had not been here, House might have asked for her condition but in the presence of Ben, he did not want to seek contact to November and kept his thoughts to himself for now.
Ben also noticed that November was not well and stopped his whistling. "It´s okay to go down, Crash. We´re in a hospital. That´s common here," he commented the situation to make it clear to her that she did not have to torture herself with it, as it was easy to sense even from outside that this was no easy moment for her.
"So that´s why he calls you Crash!?" House began with his statement and looked at November, "Because you fall over frequently?" Inwardly, he was thankful that Ben had broken the unpleasant silence. At the same time though, it made him ponder again how close Ben and November really were!?
As November did not seem to be able to reply, Ben took over without further ado. "Almost. She attracts situations which always end somehow dangerously for her. Or she gets into such right away herself and on purpose. That´s why, Crash." Ben ended his explanation.
House nodded with an understanding look at Ben as the elevator decelerated and the doors opened. Together, they got out at the diagnostic ward and walked towards House´s office.
The elevator ride seemed endlessly long to November. Ben´s nice offer to let herself fall, she left uncommented though, she was much too occupied with herself and her state. This ride was pure torture, and cost her a lot of strength. So, November kept herself under control constantly. Don´t fall, don´t vomit, don´t breathe too deeply. It was buzzing in her ears. She did not really get what Ben and House were saying at that moment. An eternity passed until they finally arrived at House´s ward. For a brief moment, November´s condition got better. Slowly, she removed her hand from the handrail, dragged herself out of the corner and did not want to make one single step more. But somehow, her legs yet took her out of the elevator somehow. It was not far to House´s office now. Then, finally, she would be able to sit in her good old trusted wheelchair again. This prospect made the last steps somewhat easier. In front of House´s office, November stopped. "It´s got to be somewhere in there for sure, so go and get it already. And make it fast!" November said the last words to House with emphasis. Although she would much rather have called them out, but she lacked the strength to do so.
For a short moment, House pondered whether November´s remark really had been meant ambiguously. He abandoned the thought again though because of her exhausted state. He got out of the wheelchair, opened the door to his office and limped the short distance into the team room, where he had hidden his cane. When he came back, November had already slumped into her wheelchair and Ben still stood next to it calmly but with watchful eyes. "I think it´s okay," House said curtly and looked from November back to Ben to make it clear to him that he could leave.
Sitting felt so incredibly good – the familiar feeling as well and November made use of the moment to sort herself out somewhat again and to get a bit clearer. At House´s remark, she nodded to Ben, hugged him briefly as a goodbye and whispered a "Take care" in his ear. They parted, and Ben disappeared in the direction they had come from. November rolled towards her room. But it did not go as quickly as she was used to. The impressions around her were simply too many to manage. So, she rolled slower than else and with watchful glances along the corridor, so that the happenings would not overwhelm her.
Wordlessly and with a certain amazement, House looked after November, once Ben had said goodbye, as she steered towards her hated patient room. He had actually expected her to want to hole up in his office and sleep. November had almost reached the door to her room, when he yet decided to follow her. Supported by his cane, as usual, he already felt much more comfortable in his skin. Even though his leg had not forgiven him the marathon run without walking aid yet. He stopped in the middle of the hallway and popped two Vicodin in his mouth before he walked on. In thoughts, he replayed the evening again until that point. His rage, he had left it somewhere up on the roof, what drove him to November now, was concern.
Once in her room, with a focusing gaze, she seized the water bottle standing at her bed and emptied it in just a few gulps. She had not eaten nor drunk anything today apart from the Vicodin, after all. However, the nausea now turned into an urge to vomit, faster than she cared for.
House entered the room and looked around the dimly lit room for a moment – until a cough, followed by a well-known sound, told him that November was in the bathroom. He narrowed his eyes and turned his head to the side. Did that have to happen now of all times? With slow steps, he walked up to the door, placed his flat hand on the door leaf and unobtrusively pushed it slightly open.
November hung over the toilet bowl, sitting in her wheelchair, and vomited, wheezing loudly. That she had just drunken water, made the vomiting easier for her.
Strictly speaking, compassion was not his cup of tea and he did not feel sorry for her on any terms – that November was hanging over the toilet now to vomit, she only had herself to blame for – yet House felt the unfamiliar urge to comfort her somehow. He entered the bathroom, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him, and stood behind November, who clung to the edge of the toilet bowl, her upper body bent far forward, and kept gasping for air in between her coughing. Without any harrumphing or any remark, House raised his arm and gingerly placed his hand on November´s back in a calming manner, far up between her shoulder blades. Carefully, he began to tap in the rhythm of her tickle in the throat.
The rhythmic tapping of the hand on her back eased the situation for November. For that, she was very thankful in this moment. Slowly but surely, her stomach calmed down. November straightened herself reluctantly. So, she paused for a long moment, fully focused on the hand between her shoulders, and enjoying the silence, in which she felt, how anything disruptive faded and slowly an incredibly pleasant feeling of relief could be felt in her stomach.
House observed contently that November was calming down and apparently was done with puking her guts out. Placidly, he flushed the toilet, November having forgotten it in her drowsiness. "Now you know how Wilson felt," he said with mockery in his voice, looking at November cheeringly, though. Hopefully, this experience of a high was over now too, House thought, while the thought returned that he actually still had a rage in his belly, because it had come to this again and she had not kept to the rules of her withdrawal. "Whereas I would categorize Wilson´s reasons for his jag as distinctly more reasonable than yours!" he added in an admonishing tone.
"Just because the fine gentleman Wilson is no drug addict with asshole-attitude?" November asked, still leaned back in her wheelchair, with a pensive and low voice. "What reason would you have either way to get plastered as an ordinary guy?" she asked House and leaned forwards. November washed her hands and threw a load of water in her face.
"You don´t know why Wilson almost drunk himself into a coma?" House asked with honest surprise and looked into November´s eyes, which kept looking at him with blurry vision. With a grave voice, House solved the riddle for her with a single word. "Lovesickness!" he replied and let November go first when they left the bathroom.
With a wet face, she rolled back into her room, passing House. She could clearly smell that he had exerted himself. It pleased her. Why, she did not know. Apparently, her jag turned all of her senses upside down. The relief of having puked it all out, was now clearly visible on her relaxed face as well. "I guess I should rather think in advance than in retrospect", she tossed into the room. A wave of fatigue took over her whole body.
"That would be an option!" House retorted affirmatively and with overdone irony, after he had followed her into the room and turned off the light in the bathroom.
November noticed how it became increasingly difficult for her to grasp what House was saying. "You should have accepted my gift instead of throwing it away! You know?" she said finally, one brow raised.
"Stop that bollocks, November!" House replied in a rude tone and felt the anger returning to his belly. "The point of a withdrawal is not to celebrate the 24 hours one made it without with a joint!" November sat in her wheelchair in the middle of the room and House was leaning against the edge of the bed. His cool eyes were flashing at her.
Progressively, she had to pay attention to his words, as she needed too much time to grasp them. For November had to keep asking herself if he just had said anything at all in the first place, and if so, what, and if he even was talking about her. House felt very far away in this moment. After a few seconds of sorting out what House just had spoken, November finally began to talk, without being aware of the content of her words. "Rather I have been ceremoniously celebrating the end of my solitude. The 24 hours without were only the nice side effect."
House furrowed his brow, what was November on about, with the end of her solitude? Slowly, he got the uncouth feeling that she was not really in control of herself and did not even realize what nonsense she was spouting there. Her vague reply was not to his liking at all, but spurred him on. "November," House repeated insistently, taking a step towards her to lend weight to his words, "This is not a game!" Why he said this sentence of all things, he did not really know himself. But he hoped to find a direct line to November with it and to appeal to her reason.
November gave a contorted smile. "You´re rolling the dice with me for my goods and chattels? Well, you great heavenly body, what would your happiness be if you did not have those for whom you shine?"** she answered him, after she once again had difficulties to grasp whether the last sentence really came from him.
"You just won´t get it, or?" House commented her incoherent words, stepping in front of her. "One day, you´ll go on the trip from which you won´t wake up again and nobody will be there any longer to save your ass. Me neither!" Supported by his cane, he bent down a bit to her. "Damn, November! If you keep at it, you'll fall apart." He said furiously and snapping at her louder than intended. Why didn´t she bloody get that he was worried about her and wanted to protect her.
"You are a forgetful idiot," November started. „I am dead since long and there is no passion so contagious as that of fear.*** What do you want to die of, in fact? Now, that you got death standing before you sort of in person, that´s your chance, after all! Well, I´m listening?"
Gritting his teeth for a brief instant, House shook his head. „Ok, you know what," he began and straightened himself again, knowing that he couldn´t get through to November with simple threats, "I´ve finally had enough of you!" He took a step backwards, looking around the room. "Where is it?" he asked coldly, without looking at November.
November observed how he was looking around. That he was angry at her, caused her discomfort. "If you tidy up too well, things disappear – it´s like Tetris – thus, you´re not going to find anything here," she answered his question as to the where.
House gave an unusually angry huff and began to search himself! That November had answered his question so sharp-tongued, made him assume that she must have drugs hidden somewhere here, after all! First, he went for the nightstand, tore the drawer open and rummaged around. Nothing! With a loud sound, he pushed it shut and walked over to the cabinet. He opened the doors. The cabinet was empty, apart from some clothes and November´s bag. Purposefully, he took the black travel bag out and set it down on the bed. Before he opened the zipper, he glared at November, who was looking all innocent. After some brief digging around, he made a find. In a triumphant manner, he produced a spoon. "And what is this doing here?" he asked in a sharp and sardonic tone, looking at the spoon first and then at November.
"Travel cutlery?!" November replied recklessly, with a questioning tone, scratching her head. She did not wait for a possible answer from House though, it simply was too straining to follow his words and having to check again and again whether he said anything and what, and whether he was talking to her or whether it was she herself, asking herself these questions. There was just one thing that helped with that. Talking, that was much easier for her. „All my filters are turned off, House. It´s virtually flowing out of me. I can´t stop it, whether I want or not, there are no breaks anymore. Somehow fascinating, all that which opens up, once you aren´t being stopped by yourself. You are even aware of that? How much we are subjected to our own barriers, without being able to do anything against it – well, apart from consuming drugs, that is – how much is barred to us. If we could control our filters fully consciously, just like we could breathe, then we could also advance to mind-expanding spaces just like that, anytime we´d want to. We all would be psychonauts on an endlessly long journey…"
Carelessly, House dropped the spoon to the floor. Yeah sure, he though, travel cutlery. Travel needles would nail it better probably. Grimly, he tossed the traveling bag to the floor as well and started to rummage through November´s bedding. While her incessant drivel was grating on his nerves terribly.
November kept talking relentlessly and watching what House was doing there with a certain internal detachment. "Have you ever asked yourself what it means to live each day not like the last one but like the only day at your disposal? It would suddenly have a whole different appreciation. There is a difference in whether I do something because I can do it for the last time, or whether I do something, because I can only do it one single time. Would not we all start to perceive all things completely differently and try to take everything with us, in our memories? With what kind of intensity could one live this then, and how long could one keep this up? Since, seen factually, this only day would not be the only one in our lives, as we live on. But the day in itself still is unique, as it is irretrievable. Which does not have anything to do with that at the end our live is as well, if we indeed live as if OUR day was the only one we had. It makes our life more precious."
Sullen, House left the rumpled bedding on the mattress and turned to November. Her gibberish about life and death and some possible reason behind it, made him aggressive. "Tell me!" he requested harshly, where did you hide the rest of your drugs?!"
November flinched briefly when House addressed her so loudly and directly. She held her hands in front of her defensively and replied intimidated, "Okay, okay, I will admit it – in fact, I hid them under my invisibility cloak, mischief managed."
That was it! His patience had run thin finally. „Damn, shut up!" House bawled at November and lost his temper entirely. His whole body was trembling and was tense. This aimless and totally mazy discussion with November was more nerve-racking than educating a toddler and anyway he was not her father. So, it was time to draw the line. "Say, what do you want from me, anyway?" he snapped at her and with a threatening expression fixed his gaze on November, who had huddled up in the seat of her wheelchair meanwhile. "One evening, I get you from the roof with amphetamines in your blood and you can´t seem to get enough of me, being hardly sober again, only to lure me to the roof again the next day and bend my ears with whatever bullshit then."
"Yes Sir Surgeon Major, November understood and shuts up," she returned, sitting at attention, her hand at her forehead. Slowly, the tension left her body again.
"Don´t be ridiculous!" House tossed in at November´s saluting remark and set about leaving the room. November, however, rolled into his path.
She stood in front of him, looking up at him. She just could not halt her tongue. With a sad look, she continued, "The whale swallowed Jona, will she get out of there again? I believe she is quite safe in there, when she is unwell. Such a whale can be a wonderful protector, right? And Jona can enjoy spirit and solitude. And one could be so wonderfully loud, and nobody would be disturbed by it. One could tell one´s pain to the songs, sing and the whale would hum pleasurably and Jona still would sit down there, all sad, and tell her gray-blue melancholic tales. About life, death, sleepless nights, anguish of mind… are not anyway songs the much better psychologists and psychotherapists? What for would I be needed there? But I have taken over death´s office anyway…" she paused briefly and finally, with insight in her voice, she added, "wait… I have the talking blues, right?" Seeking help, she glanced at House again.
"What you are babbling there is no blues, it´s nonsense!" House let himself get carried away to a last indignant comment, made a quick step around November and disappeared. Not without kicking against the open door with his healthy leg though, at leaving the room, to give vent to his anger.
November looked after House and loudly called after him, "Don´t worry be happy… daddy?" Only now, that he was gone, she realized what actually had just happened here. With a sad look, she looked at the back of House, who was moving further and further away from her with at a brisk pace. She rolled a few paces towards the door and stayed behind. Suddenly, the silence in this room became so oppressive and unbearable again, as if it wanted to tell her what she had done wrong just now. It was hard for her to bear this. Her elbows propped on her knees, November held her hands at her ears and looked down, buried in thought.
Several minutes, November sat there like that and tried to push back the thought that she just had made House angry and driven him out. This time, she definitely had overdone it. Now, certainly he would not keep treating her. Now, in this moment, she did not understand herself quite well, why she had overdone it like that. She lifted her head. House had disappeared long since. She let her eyes roam the room. The spoon still lay on the floor, the traveling bag carelessly next to it. The rumpled bedding. What kind of battle had they fought just now? November asked herself and with every passing second, she realized more clearly how adrift she felt without House. Even the intoxication seemed utterly worthless now. She got up from her wheelie, picked up spoon and traveling bag and tossed both of it back into the cabinet, angry at herself, and slammed the door shut loudly. All of a sudden, they were there. Clearly and distinctly, they echoed in her. With a mixture of anger at herself, the hurtful words, instability and remorse inside her, November could not but send a loud scream at this silence, constantly admonishing her. This scream had set something in motion, and she could not swallow the tears anymore. So, she slumped on the rumpled bed, her body trembling, and cried her heart out. She could do this just now and here. House should not know, not on any account. Like this, she finally could express her fear and the loss. Hot tears ran down her cheeks, unstoppable, while she sobbed, hiding her face in the blanket, so her plight would not be heard by anyone.
The sound the door of the car made as the lock snapped in, was loud and was so good. His hands around the steering wheel, House closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. The day had started so well. He and November had been on good terms, found an agreement about the use of Bally after a short back and forth, and taken some Vicodin together. If he thought about it, he hadn´t ever shared his pills with anyone and somehow this very thing created this strange kind of connectedness between November and him… The race in her wheelchair, the lunch with Wilson and her humorous text message, all that had been so casual and relaxed like it hadn´t been in a while.
But that kind of lousy and downcast as he was feeling now, there must have been a point at which this skittish mood hat changed. Had it been when Wilson had told him that November had left with Ben? Or had it been the moment when he had caught the two of them up on the roof? Or had it been even much later, when November had made him livid with her jabbering?
House opened his eyes again and stared at the dark hedge in front of which he had parked his car.
He had the feeling to stand before the unpleasant decision of sending November away and having to discharge her from the hospital again. From the medical point of view, it was long overdue. With her reckless behavior, she would have been kicked out of any other therapy facility already at her first relapse! But this here was a public hospital, and he felt like the relationship between November and him seemed to have gone beyond the relationship between a doctor and his patient long ago, they simply had too much in common for that.
That November had taken drugs a second time during her withdrawal had made him terribly angry in the first moment. In a rage, he had rushed out on the roof and snapped at not just her but Ben as well. In his eyes, this reaction had not been exaggerated at all, he was no lap dog therapist, after all! The straining descent and the fragile sight of November in the elevator had calmed him again and reminded him that she eventually needed support and affection in her state and not someone who used her mistakes against her. House had begun to worry and had followed November into her room, which had turned out to have been a wise decision after the fact too. Only that her relentless and incoherent drivel had rekindled his rage and shattered his nerves. Enraged, he had stormed out of the room. But in the end, he only had been disappointed. Disappointed because of the trust he had invested in her, and disappointed by his own inability to help her.
Anger, worry and disappointment – all of that looked familiar to House! These were the same reactions he had gotten from friends and coworkers. Every time when he had given up at one of his many tries to get away from his painkillers, and had fallen back into his old patterns. Cuddy reacted with anger and yet felt superior to him, as if she did not think him capable of a complete withdrawal anyway. Cameron on the other hand, acted restrained and gave him a sorrowful and sad look at every opportunity, as if he was a beaten dog. And Wilson, he had disappointment written all over his face, and he tried in vain to make up for it with a pat on the shoulder.
Slowly, it dawned on House, how it must feel to accompany someone close to you through a withdrawal and put up with them. One thing was clear for him, he would not let November down even after this incident! The relationship to her apart, also his honor as a diagnostician was at stake. Up to now, he had solved every riddle sooner or later and gotten to the bottom of the lie of any patient! He certainly would not show any weakness and fail, as the attending physician, at a withdrawal!
Only slowly, she calmed down. November got up and exhaustedly walked to her wheelchair. The lump in her throat was the next silent admonisher in her. So, she left her room. The nurses who approached her worriedly, she gave an angry look, hissing "I´m fine!"
She rolled to House´s room. It was locked. Oh no, not that! Resignedly, she dropped her head. Apparently, he was so angry at her that he denied her even this haven today. Helplessly, November´s eyes wandered down the corridor left and right. The meeting room! Perhaps its door was unlocked?
And indeed, she was lucky. November rolled past the big oval table and through the open connecting door into House´s office. It was vacant and unlit. Which she was very thankful for in this moment, so she had not to feel confronted with reality right away and directly. House was yet to be back and as long as he had not spoken out loud all that which November feared, there was something left like hope that she could stay. She stood there in this office, for the first time with a bad conscience and the feeling of not having deserved it. She slumped down on the chair and looked around. Suddenly, all this did not seem as natural as only a few hours ago and in the same moment she remembered a line of text from her album. It was still here. She took it, sat down at the desk. Reached for one of the small yellow post-its and wrote on it. "Sorry for my world." Fittingly, the title she took this line from was named "Sorry". Utterly small and almost unassuming, its name was part of the track list on the back of the album, just as if the song itself knew very well how she felt now.
November stuck the note on the cover of the album and placed it directly opposite of Bally.
So that it looked as if the two were talking. She could not take Bally for herself though, as if nothing had happened, and with certainty, it would have been another mistake which she would have made in her jag. So, she showed respect for the first time during her condition and kept her distance from that, which House loved so much. This boundary, at least, she did not want to cross this same evening. November hoped that House would understand, and she would appease him at least a little bit with it. Exhaustedly, she dropped into the chair and fell asleep right away.
His hand reached for the ignition key, but he did not turn it. His bag? He had forgotten his bag upstairs! With a deep sigh, House removed the key, opened the driver's door and got out. His cane in one and the bunch of keys in the other hand, he made his way back to the diagnostic ward.
Apart from the night nurse, nobody was on the go in the corridor. House stepped in front of his office, unlocked the door and turned on a subdued light. His bag, he would find it as well semi-darkness, as he always set it down on the same spot. House had barely made two steps into the room when he stopped abruptly. November, lying in his chair and sleeping! How the hell had she gotten in – " he thought, as his eyes fell to the open door to the meeting room. He stared at her pensively for a moment. Should he wake her up and shoo her away? After all, this here still was HIS office! House decided against it yet, as well to not have to start yet another discussion with her. If she could sleep in peace only here, so be it. He walked around the desk and picked up his backpack. The bag over his shoulder and ready to leave the office again, he glanced briefly at the desk. Right next to his ball was November´s album. A small yellow post-it note stuck was stuck to the cover. House read the words and recognized the handwriting typical for November. With a fine smile to himself, he took the backpack from his shoulder and let it glide back down to the floor. It looked as if she wanted to make an offer of peace to him.
Exhaling deeply, House took a seat on his desk chair. He did not want to leave just yet, something of this special atmosphere captured him. Motionless, he sat there and studied November´s sleeping body intently. Dressed in gray sweatpants and one of her wide hoodies, she had curled up on the cream-colored piece of furniture without a blanket. Her legs bent and pulled up slightly, she had wrapped her arms around her own torso. House watched November´s stomach lift and lower with every breath she took. She really seemed to sleep safe and sound. His calm glance moved on and held on to her face all of a sudden. He saw a scar. Very fine and barely visible, a fine line ran over her right upper jaw. So often he had seen her face and never noticed this scar!? House's curiosity for medical riddles was aroused one more time. On the search for a source for this scar, the sight of November sent his thoughts another direction again after a short time, though.
Relaxed and sleeping peacefully like a child, she lay in his chair. Like a child… it echoed in House and abruptly, November´s last words shot through his mind. "Don´t worry, Daddy," she had called after him, as he had stormed out of her room, full of resentment, and had kicked against the door hard. Yes, somehow he felt like that in some moments. Like a father, who, driven by concern, just wanted to protect her. In case of emergency from herself as well. Had she wanted to tell him with these words that he should not worry about her and disburden him?! But strictly speaking, November and he were closer to each other. The distance between father and daughter was far too deep. November and he, that was a relationship at eye level. She was quick-witted, observed her surroundings closely and had the same convinced and piercing expression. House kept pondering. Were the two of them something like friends perhaps?
But even good friends did not have such intense feelings for each other as November obviously had for him. There were too many things she had in common with him for him to just call their relationship a close friendship. She knew the pain, the loneliness, the addiction – as well as he… Would the age difference between them not have been so big, he might have considered November very well as a kind of little sister. In his imagination, siblings were very close and especially bigger brothers were loyal protectors and by far not as focused on educational measures as parents.
Another time, November´s words caught up with House. She had talked about the belly of a whale, of a safe, protected place and of death. Sentences from the previous night mingled with this, in which she had openly admitted to him how broken and haywire she felt. Yes, House thought affirmatively, while his watchful eyes still were resting on November and he curiously observed her dream phase. November was fragile, in a certain sense. She was in search of support, of protection, and of comfort. But why with him of all people? And why in combination with drugs?
House sensed that his thoughts were threatening to escape him, quickly he wiped his following considerations away and reluctantly accepted that he would not find an answer here and now. He would have to deal with it another time, sounding out the relationship between him and November and shelving it correctly. For today, he had contemplated it long enough.
With a sweeping motion he lifted his wrist, so that the sleeve of his jacket revealed the face of his watch. He was sitting here since more than half an hour now! Time to finally drive home and lie down in bed! November´s jag had cost him a lot of strength. Not just physical strength, forcing himself up a steep concrete staircase the second evening in a row – no, psychic strength as well, with her texting him incessantly and forcing her mazy trains of thought on him.
Inwardly, he was aware that he would forgive her at a later time. But for the moment, an apologetic note just wasn´t enough! Even if House felt sympathy for November´s situation rise up inside him, she simply had overstepped the mark this time! That she swayed about helplessly in her own world did not justify dragging another person into it with her! On the other hand, House had chosen the position as her treating physician himself. Perhaps some distance would not be that bad for their relationship!? So, he would have the time to delve into her file once more, to find out about the unusual scar, and November hopefully was smart enough to become aware of certain boundaries.
Once she would have apologized, he would approach her again as well. But until then, he would let her dangle in uncertainty and tease her.
After all, his ego needed time to lick its wounds. House got up, took Bally from the bowl, put him in his jacket and left without a sound, without turning around another time. He was certain that November would interpret the disappearance of the ball right – and realize that he still took offence at this second incident on the rooftop.
*Quote taken from S7xE15 – „Bombshells / Schlag auf Schlag"
**Quote from „Thus Spoke Zarathustra" by Nietzsche
***Quoted from „Of Fear" by Michel de Montaigne