This chapter is dedicated to AtreideHeir for offering his experience through a friend of how it feels to be as high as House is in. I don't think the chapter would have been as eloquent as it turned out. Thanks, dude!

CHAPTER THIRTY – A Lifetime

"House, can you hear me?" Cuddy asks nervously.

House moans a few times before his eyes slowly open and he looks around the room, in a bit of confusion. He sees Cuddy standing beside the bed with a look of fright and worry.

"Wha…what happened?" he asks.

"We lost you for a couple of minutes. You better stop doing that to me," she tells him, forcing a weak smile.

"Admit it, you'd be so bored without me," he teases back. She nods her head in agreement and asks him how he feels. "…kinda weird. Went to my own funeral," he says forlornly.

"Oh, people actually showed up?" she asks playfully but he doesn't answer at first. She clears her throat nervously.

Only then does he smile softly. "Cuddy, if I die, don't bury me in a suit, and no white lilies," he tells her before he closes his eyes briefly.

"Ok, no problem. Wash and iron your Lynard Skynard t-shirt so I won't have to."

House looks at her and says, "I'm not ready to 'check out' yet."

"You'd better not. I can't think of a better employee to have; you keep my job interesting, that's for sure," she tells him as she gently touches his right arm.

"Liar," he answers then closes his eyes and turns his head.

"I know, I know. How does your head feel?"

"Oh, it's still attached?"

Cuddy smiles and gets the vial of loxoprofen and the syringe before she inserts it into the I.V. tube. "Any nausea?" House shakes his head. "Good. Get some rest. Sleep if you can."

"Carmen Electra…Carmen…Carmen Electra...," he mumbles then giggles.

"House? What are you mumbling?" she asks as she places the syringe on the tray.

"I wanna have a good dream. I'm over Angelina. I thought this might work."

Cuddy lets a little laugh out before she turns to leave and runs into Cameron standing in the doorway. She continues to walk out of the room and as she walks away Cameron follows her.

"What are you doing here? It's Saturday," Cuddy says as she stops and faces Cameron.

"I had a strange dream this morning - about House."

"And?"

"And I got a call from someone about House being admitted this morning," Cameron continues.

"Oh, really? By whom?"

"Doesn't matter. What's going on with House?"

"It's personal. Patient/Doctor confidentiality," Cuddy tells her rather shortly. "Go home, Cameron," she says as she turns around to walk away from her.

"I just want to…"

Cuddy stops in her tracks, turns briskly and walks back toward Cameron. "I've told you once before, Allison, House is not your problem. Weren't you even listening? I know he's your boss, but he's fine." Cameron stands in the hall looking at Cuddy speechless and bewildered. "I said go home."

Cameron's face drops in rejection and hurt before she does as she is told and leaves the hospital. 'I can't keep doing this…to myself…to Chase. Damnit.'

HOUSE MD HOUSE MD HOUSE MD

Dr. James Wilson has been lying in his hospital bed the past hour wondering how House was getting along in his Ketamine treatment. For some reason he isn't very confident in the handling of House taking it, but he hopes, for his sake, that it does work.

Wilson is in his own thoughts so deeply that he doesn't hear the door softly close or hear the squeaking of tennis shoes against the sterile linoleum floor. Only after several minutes does he chance turning his head to see who the culprit is that has been staring at him. When he sees Cuddy he doesn't smile, nor does his eyes beam with anticipation of a hopeful prognosis about House from her.

"How are you feeling, Wilson?" she asks, seeing the sadness…what was the exact look she sees in his eyes?

"You know, I am really getting tired of hearing that question," he snips, but doesn't appear to be remorseful at all.

Cuddy's eyebrows furl a little as she tries to think of something to say. Words have been difficult for her to find the past few hours and the stress is starting to affect her. 'I am going to have to take up George on that offer on the bungalow in Key West,' she thinks to herself.

"I'm sorry. Just got a call from my mom – it seems she's kinda pissed at me, still."

"About what?"

"Covering for House."

Cuddy shakes her head in understanding of the understatement of the year. She tries to think of something positive for Wilson to cheer his diminishing mood.

"You should be out of here by Tuesday. And Dr. Powell will cover for you while you're out." She waits for some kind of acknowledgement from him. When she doesn't get one she continues. "Are you going to be okay at home alone while you recoup? We can get Nurses Hildie Smithers or Alice Chancellor to stay with you for a couple of days. I think Hildie has a crush on you," she says with a smile.

Still nothing from Wilson. "Well, I'll let you get some rest." When he still doesn't answer she quietly leaves the room.

Wilson silently curses out loud but not at Cuddy, at himself. He hates being mean to her, to anyone for that matter. But he doesn't care. He's been lying in bed for almost a week but honestly, he doesn't care. About Cuddy. About his parents. Not even about House. He feels numb, like all his positive emotions have been drained from him.

He looks at the button that releases the morphine and doesn't hesitate to hit it a few times. He smiles at the relief it will bring momentarily. It won't take away his growing hatred for those close to him, but it will make him not care.

About anything, or anyone.

HOUSE MD HOUSE MD HOUSE MD

Back in House's room he's been staring at his hand that has an aura around it, displaying all the colors of the rainbow. He twists his wrist and moves his fingers and is very much entertained at the psychedelic object in front of him. He then looks out the window and watches leaves blowing from their branches: red, yellow, blue, green, pink and every other shade are circling and swaying and dancing like a single leaf being swept down river.

He looks at the chair at the end of the room, at the air conditioning unit, the closet cabinet and he is overwhelmed at the 'oddness' of it all. It was like he is looking at everything past his nose through a large glass jar. The edges are all fuzzy and the middle of every object was like he was looking at them in one of those Funny Mirror houses at carnivals. The items kept growing and shrinking and it hurt his head just trying to focus on them.

He grabs for the cup on the tray next to his bed but knocks it over with his hand; it wasn't as far as he thought it was. A giggle escapes him, but it isn't anything to laugh at. He hears a voice saying something to him, sees a vertical solid multi-colored mass move toward him but he isn't frightened. He is just mesmerized by all the pretty colors.

When he brought his hand back to him, he realizes his body feels anesthetized, although he knows he is wide awake. He hadn't felt this way since he took that PCP in college to prove to a classmate that there is such a thing as a K-hole. A K-hole is that state of delirium, actually a near death experience that a user goes through after dropping acid. But how he felt now was nothing like he had years ago.

Although he can't really sense his body (the hair on his legs, the sweat pouring from his forehead down to his ears and soaking his pillow), his body senses something. But he is reluctant to relinquish all of his control to it. He has always had a control issue, even from the time he could walk. Suddenly everything shifts and he is aware of his body floating high in the sky and the clouds are brushing against his legs and arms and his brain is waiting to register the sensation but there is a loose connection somewhere.

He tries to close his eyes but they instantly fly open again – in search of a mysterious hand approaching his throat or a sword aimed at his neck?

Something firm grabs his forearm and he pulls it quickly away. "Who are you? What do you want?" he demands.

Again he hears a voice but cannot understand what it is saying. Slowly, his senses refocus and he can make out a feminine figure standing by the bed. His hearing clears and he can now understand what she is saying.

"…a hospital. Let's just get your blood pressure cuff back on you, okay?" a sweet, melodic voice echoes through his head.

"Whaaa…where am I?" he grunts, swallowing hard as the Ketalar has increased his thirst.

"It's just the medication, Dr. House. You're fine."

He relaxes a bit but keeps his guard up. He frantically searches his brain for what exactly has happened to him, and

as the realization slowly sinks in he asks for Cuddy.

"I'm right here, House," she says at the foot of the bed.

"How much longer?" House grunts.

"Just about an hour or so but I think you are through the worst part," she says calmly and confidently.

House slightly nods his head, closes his eyes and lets his exhausted body give into the warm and fuzzy feeling within him.

Cuddy tells the two nurses a few things before she walks out into the hallway and leans against the wall, throwing her head back against it, a bit harder than was necessary.

'God, please let it be just an hour or so.'