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.

This histories in this story were written before episode 204 (TB or Not TB) and therefore will differ from episodes aired in November 2005 and later.

Keep those reviews coming in too! I'm working on ideas for another fic, and I need your help on grammer and development.

Chapter 11 - Code

House was just settling into his favorite spot on the couch, the one where the remote could just stay in his hand, when there was a knock at the door. He pulled the blanket strewn on the back of the couch over him and started to flip through the channels again. He had had a very long day and all he wanted to do was to curl up on the couch - not that his leg would let him do any curling, but the extra Vicodin he popped when he got home would.

The knock on the door repeated itself. He looked over at the door and how far away it was. He was warm, and for the first time in a long time comfortable. His buzz from the scotch he downed with the Vicodin earlier had made him sleepy, and he was ready to sleep. He closed his eyes and then heard the sound of a key working the lock open.

Wilson.

He knew he would one day regret agreeing to give Wilson a key to his apartment. It finally gave into his friend late one day a couple of years after Stacy had left. Wilson had been worried that House would do something stupid and be left for his landlord to find at the beginning of the month when rent was due and a foul smell was emitting from the flat.

"House, are you awake?"

Stupid question. If he were awake, he would naturally respond. If he weren't awake, the sound from someone asking the question would wake him up, thereby allowing him to be awake and respond. He snorted in response to Wilson's query.

"I'm not interrupting you, am I?"

Another stupid question. House sighed and regretfully opened his eyes to the jarring presence of reality. He figured this response was enough to let Wilson know to go away, however, Wilson kept approaching him. He sat up, sighed, and asked, "What brought you here? Julie, or me?"

"Both actually. She isn't home yet, and quite frankly, I don't want to be there when she does. Get home, that is." Wilson sat down on the arm of the couch on the opposite end where House was huddled under the blanket. "How are you doing?"

House glared. Wasn't it obvious that just maybe House was ready to sleep? Didn't Wilson remember that doctors tend to value what little sleep they could afford during a difficult case? A case. Was that all Chase was? A case? Before med school, he still thought of patients as people. Med school changes you, hardens you the same way years in prison would. Most people often saw doctors as saints, saving loved ones from the grips of death. Instead, doctors, especially ones like House, saw themselves as people who had given too much of their lives for people they barely knew. They spend their time in med school ruining relationships so they can study. Residencies and internships are spent trying to sleep. Then, one day after finally finishing, you step back and realize what you've actually become. Some people refer to it as maturity; others realize it's a loss of innocence and understanding. The patient is no longer a person who needs your help, but the enemy keeping you from what you want to really do.

Sleep.

Wilson looked down at House who had closed his eyes again, wanting to sleep but couldn't as he knew Wilson would not leave without pushing whatever point he had come there to push.

"Wilson, why are you really here?" Enough of this! Let me sleep!

Wilson looked down at House, "Are you okay?"

"I'd be better if I could actually get some sleep!"

"No sarcasm, no cynicism. How are you doing?"

"What is everyone's sudden concern today about me? Is this 'national care for the cripple day?'"

"No, but it is 'national my best friend's coworker is in a coma and I actually give a crap day.'"

House closed his eyes and thought for a moment. How was he doing? He learned early in his career to be objective. Then, he learned how not to give a damn. Unfortunately, it was different when the patient was like your son, and you were the only one who could really save him. That is, if you could find what medication he had been taking. He wanted to talk. "I need to know what Chase has been taking."

"Okay. How?"

"We searched his apartment and came up empty handed. Searched the office, empty handed as well. The only place left is his girlfriend's place, and his car. Problem is, we don't know who his girlfriend is. Other problem is, we don't know where his car is."

"I asked how you were doing and you start discussing the case? This isn't like you."

Wilson was right and House knew it. He cared, and because he cared, he lost his objectivity. Had he not cared about the patient, he would have tried different therapies by now. However, he was reluctant. He did not want to harm the son of the man he admired most; he did not want to harm the boy who grew up to be his student.

"You're right Wilson. For once, I cannot do this. If it were any other doctor in the hospital, it would be different. Cameron? I would want to save the investment I made in her. Foreman? Well, I need someone who can break into any lock. Chase? I see myself in him, and that's a problem."

House stopped talking and Wilson waited for him to list other doctors. When House listed none, Wilson asked, "What, I'm not a doctor at the hospital?"

"You're a doctor, but not one I'd want under my care?"

"Why? Afraid?"

House considered the dare in Wilson's voice. He would be afraid if it were his friend who was in his care. If he harmed him by some means of malpractice, then he wouldn't be able to continue without massive quantities of Vicodin and alcohol in his system. He had to think quickly before Wilson could sense the pause in conversation: "No, you'd complain too much."

Wilson laughed; House being witty was a good sign. However, Wilson also knew that if something happened to Chase, House would change. House couldn't take another emotional hit in his life. Stacy had done enough to House, and vice versa. Should something happen to his friend, he could see that man go on a path of self-destruction that would take more than one life. House's mental state at the moment was just barely stable, and the smallest thing could put him over the edge. That's why Wilson was at his friend's apartment and would not leave unless there was an emergency.

House however, just wanted to sleep. He got up off the couch, grabbed his bottle of Vicodin, and walked toward his bedroom grunting something inaudible under his breath to Wilson. Another night on the couch at his friend's place. Wilson looked down at the table and saw House's pager; he would have handed it to him, but at the same time, he wanted to protect his friend. This had been affecting House more than he would ever let on.

It was about 3:30 when Wilson heard a pager go off, he looked over and saw his pager glowing with the cold electronic glow of technology; he was surprised to see that Cuddy had paged him concerning Chase. Wilson fumbled through House's living room to the phone to respond when he tripped and then heard House rouse out of sleep. Great. He's going to wake up, find out, and have a nervous breakdown. Wilson was thankful that, Cuddy had the same sense about paging Wilson instead of House about an emergency; apparently Cuddy also realized that Wilson would be able to get through to House easier than anyone else with any news.

Wilson finally found the phone and called the hospital to see what was going on.

"Lisa, it's James. What happened?"

"It's Chase; his vitals dropped and he coded. We resuscitated him, but until we find what has caused the coma and other problems, it will continue to be touch and go. There's no way to stabilize him. We have to find what he took."

Wilson paused for a moment. He was the one nominated to be the bearer of bad news to House; thankfully, Chase was still technically alive, but just barely. He cleared his throat and said into the receiver, "Thank you Lisa, I'll tell House." Wilson paused for a moment to consider adding anything else, "Is there anything I can do there?"

"I was hoping you could come in. I know it's early, but we need to talk. We have to discuss what to do for House should anything more happen. We have Chase stabilized, but I don't know for how long. He could go either way, and it will take House with. I know you're as worried about House as I am."

"I am."

"And I get the feeling you're over there right now."

Wilson smiled. Cuddy would never admit it, but she knew Wilson and House better than anyone else at the hospital. "Lisa, how did you know?"

"Call it a hunch."

Wilson smiled again. "I'll be there shortly."

Today would be another long day.