Allowing the water to ebb at her conscience, Cuddy stood under the drenching showerhead for a full minute without moving. Leaning sideways and resting her head against the cool marble, Cuddy ran her fingers over her forehead in an attempt to perhaps push out her headache. The events of the past weeks (had it really been almost two weeks since Cameron had been attacked?) still set Cuddy's stomach rolling. Sighing and straightening up, Cuddy grabbed the shampoo bottle perched on the shower wall and set about the task of readying for another arduous day.
HCHCHCHCHC
Bouncing his cane between his knees, House was hardly paying attention to what Wilson was rambling about. House had almost completely lost focus and interest when Wilson placed a hard tap against the glass separating them. Sighing, House rolled his head to the side, making eye contact with Wilson. "What?" House asked, turning in his chair.
"Jesus Christ, House, I'm trying to talk to you. I don't really have lots of liberties in here, so if you could pay attention for five minutes, that would be great," Wilson spat.
Wilson had been booked and charged with Cameron's rape and assault, and was currently awaiting arraignment. House and Wilson both knew that Wilson was innocent, but without Cameron's testimony, there would be no way to prove otherwise. As it was, Cameron was still in a drug induced coma.
"Jimmy, just shut up and enjoy your time off. I'll get you out of here, no big deal."
"Easy for you to say; you're not the one in jail! House, I won't last another week in here. They treat me like shit, as I'm sure you can imagine. I'm their scapegoat!"
"Oh, that's right, I forgot. Well, stay strong, Dolly."
"Dolly was a lamb."
"Whatever. Prison Break 2006 is in the works," House quipped. Looking to his left, he noticed a tall, muscle-bound guard, whose face now bore the resemblance to an overworked, undersexed primate. "Relax, I was only kidding," House said, before heaving out of his chair and hastily exiting the visiting room. He had almost made it out of the room when Wilson called his name. Turning slowly, he grudgingly made eye contact.
"Cameron...she's okay, right?" he asked, standing in preparation to leave. House nodded shortly, knowing his lie would show. Watching House exit, Wilson sighed.
"Everybody lies."
HCHCHCHCHC
Shuffling around, LPN Kelly Harris was in the process of changing Cameron's many dressings. Clucking her tongue slightly, Kelly gently rolled gauze over the wound on her wrist. Shaking her head almost the whole time she worked, Kelly could still hardly begin to imagine the pain the poor girl in front of her would have had to have endured. She'd met and worked with Doctor Cameron on several occasions, most notably Doctor House's shooting, and she had nothing but good things to say about her. The same could not be said about Doctors Chase and Foreman, who were currently standing behind her, watching her work. "Doctors," she thought irritably. "All critique and no help." They were in there, sometimes together, most of the time apart, at all hours of the day. Without fail however, they always scurried with Doctor House's arrival.
Doctor House was one of the doctors in the hospital that Kelly had never been able to figure out, and Doctor Cameron's attack had done nothing to put his actions and feelings into clearer focus. Sighing, Kelly pulled a piece of tape from the roll to her left and secured Cameron's bandages, before throwing a nasty glance at Chase and Foreman and leaving. Watching her go, Chase and Foreman exchanged looks. Sitting down in their normal spots, Chase began to fill Cameron in on current events, both at the hospital and in the world. After about ten minutes with Cameron, Chase's pager went off. Excusing himself, Chase vacated the room, leaving Foreman alone with Cameron's sleeping form. Hesitantly scooting his chair over, Foreman began to speak.
"Hey, Cameron, it's me, Foreman. I, uh, know I'm probably the last person you want hear from but... Allison, we miss you and we want you to get better, dammit. I want you to get better," he began to ramble. For fifteen minutes Foreman talked, apologizing for stabbing her with the needle, for treating her life crap, and for not inviting her out with them the night she was attacked. It was for that that Foreman felt most guilty. Sighing, he reached out and gently squeezed her hand. "I'm just sorry," he added. He pushed his chair back in place, and left silently.
With a click, the door shut, leaving Cameron alone again. The silence was punctuated by beeps and whooshes. Minutes passed as they always did: slow and painful. As hospital life continued on outside her room, Cameron lay still and prostrate. Well, almost still. What Foreman, Chase, and Kelly hadn't noticed was that the pinky finger on her left hand moved. And what no one but Cameron knew was that it twitched intentionally.
Forcing herself to try and move, Cameron was met with a terrifying reaction. Every muscle in her body burned in protest, every inch of her skin flaming with agony. Her esophagus tightened around the tube in her throat and she began to choke. Arching her back, Cameron felt the seizure scream through her body, overtaking all control she may or may not have had. In the very back of her mind she heard monitors and alarms begin to sound shrilly. For a full minute her agony continued, until a prick in her arm, barely discernable through the other pain, alerted her to the efforts being done to save her life. Then, as if someone had poured hot oil on the crown of her head and allowed it to flow down her body, a feeling of calm flooded her. Her throat loosened and her flesh gave rise to a thick sheen of cold sweat, her body's method of cooling her down. Her eyes stopped rolling around behind her eyelids and her back finally fell flush against the bed again. The buzzing in her ears returned, and she could hear shallow sobs.
"Emmy, don't cry, I'm okay."
"What the hell happened?" House demanded, hobbling back in the room. He looked around, taking in the situation. Cameron lay disheveled and sweating on the bed. Elizabeth and Emmy sat in the corner, sniffling and wiping her eyes. Chase stood stunned in the corner, an empty syringe in his left hand. "Chase, what happened?"
"She... she began seizing. I administered 60 mg's of Phenobarbital and the seizing, um, ceased," Chase stuttered, unable to make eye contact. "House," Chase said, his voice cracking. "House, I think she might be conscious." House pursed his lips, before limping over to stand next to the bed.
"Chase, why didn't the Lithium prevent her seizures?" Chase thought for a long moment.
"Um...the law of diminishing returns." House shrugged.
"Why not? I sure as hell don't know." House looked around the room, making eye contact with Chase, Elizabeth, and Emmy. "You think she's awake? Only one way to find out," he said, his hands floating fluidly over Cameron's face. In one slick motion, he depressed a button and removed the vent from the tube in her throat. "Cameron, breathe," House demanded. For ten seconds, they stood, with no sign of response.
"You're killing her!" Emmy cried as an alarm went off.
"No, I'm not. Cameron, god dammit, breathe." House kept his eyes on her, waiting for the knee-jerk reaction. He saw it coming before anyone else did: her throat contracted and her stomach heaved in. Leaning forward, he placed his ear directly above the tube and nodded. "Come here, Emmy. Listen." Emmy hurriedly crossed the room, placing her ear just where House's had been. "Okay, step back. I'm going to extubate her." Placing two fingers on Cameron's throat, he rubbed over the larynx as he untaped the tube from the corners of her lips.
"Deep breath in, Cameron. The tube is coming out," he said, before counting down from three and pulling it out. Cameron coughed involuntarily. Removing the tape that held her eyelids shut, House waited for her to respond. For a full minute, her body shook with coughs, until her eyes slid open. Still gasping heavily, Cameron looked around, squinting under the harsh fluorescent lights. Emmy's hand flew up to her mouth, accompanying the tiny gasp she uttered. House stepped back as Emmy and Elizabeth hurried over to Cameron's bed, a cup of water in hand. Chase stood at the foot of Cameron's bed, his face registering exhaustion, relief, and surprise. Breathing deeply and shakily, Cameron made eye contact with House and smiled weakly.
"Thank you," Cameron croaked to House.
House smiled the tiniest smile, before taking Chase out with him.