Every Second

A House Fan-Fic

by - entercreativename

Disclaimer: I am not the creator or owner of the characters mentioned in this story. I am instead a poor college student with no money and no hope of ever earning money. I wrote this story as a means of exploring the characters in the show; not for profit, notoriety, or other self-assuring means.

Chapter 3 - Questions

As he was early for work, as usual, he had time to wait for his minions to arrive. Well, one had already if you count being in a coma. He sat in his conference room at the whiteboard. What caused this?

Airway was open - the ventilator kept that going. He wasn't bleeding anywhere that he could tell. Cardiac. Normal sinus rhythms, a little light though, heart rate at 74. Blood pressure was a low - 99/48. Respiration was low after he lost consciousness.

He was fine yesterday.

Edema. Swelling of the legs. Kidney? Heart? Something wasn't filtering right.

Why did this happen to him?

Fever. His body was fighting something, but what?

Why did this happen to a member of my team?

Dehydration. Kidney. Heart. Alcohol.

Why did this happen to one of my doctors?

Too many laps at the Y?

He isn't like a doctor, he once betrayed him…

There was a knock at the door. House looked up and saw his friend, James Wilson, standing there with a sympathetic look on his face. He looked old. It was obvious that though the years had not taken a toll on his friend physically, the previous night had. What did Julie do to Wilson now? House knew that Wilson was going to come in, so he looked back down at the lab work.

"Are you just going to keep working, or will you let me in?"

House motioned Wilson in and turned back to his papers.

"Don't keep pretending that this is just another patient. I know you well enough - this is effecting you, and you won't admit it."

House continued to keep looking at the papers in front of him.

"House, you can't keep doing this. Chase means something to all of us, even you."

House stopped for a moment, blinked, and went back to work.

"Let me at least share in the burden."

"Wilson, how can you tell that I am effected by this?"

"Other than your lack of sophomoric comments, and the fact that you took the case, or the fact that he was the first doctor you hired - your first student?"

"I GET IT!" House yelled at Wilson, annoyed. "I'm supposed to be affected by the fact that one of my doctors happens to be lying on a table DYING! You think I don't get it? You think that five years of Vicodin can hide this from my inner psyche? It doesn't. And yes, it is getting to me."

Wilson finally came into the office, closing the door behind him. He walked over to House's desk to collect the papers from him, to see what House had been seeing all these hours. "House, how long have you been here?"

House looked up at Wilson and then back to his papers. He just barely whispered, "Since four am."

"House, how much sleep did you get last night?"

House didn't respond.

"Okay Greg…"

Wilson, why the first name?

"You know where I'll be if you do want some help, or to talk. Take care of yourself."

Wilson left as abruptly as he came. House didn't want to be bothered. At this point, all he wanted to do was to sink into the labwork in front of him, absorbing all the facts and figures into his brain, allowing him to see what was really at work. He continued to look at what was in front of him, and knew he was missing something.

Low blood pressure.

Should he really be affected?

Depression.

It could of happened to me. It DID happen to me.

Dehydration.

He had betrayed him once to Vogler to save himself.

Coma.

Chase was like his son.