Dr. Gregory House was alone again in 221B. But that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
He woke up at 7:34am. His Ramones tee shirt was neatly folded on the other pillow. On top of that was note from Cuddy, promising to stop by after work and bring some dinner.
Hi-Dee-Ho.
House shrugged back into his tee shirt then dragged himself to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face until it was numb. Glancing at his reflection he saw a long pale face with tired red-streaked eyes glancing back. With the hell he put himself through the last week he was surprised he could stand to look at himself at all. After a brief hunt for his Vicodin he limped off to the kitchen.
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House sat at the table sipping extra strong coffee. Still a bit shaky, but at least his headache had dwindled down to a merely annoying throb. If his memory was correct he had spent maybe seven of the last thirty-six hours awake. Considering he often slept less than five hours a night he felt that was something worth marveling over.
It was Day Two of the Cuddy-enforced rest period. And it wasn't even 8am yet. He knew the one thing he dreaded almost as much as pain was going to find him: Boredom.
I'm going to be climbing the walls before noon, he thought morosely, sipping more coffee.
It was enough to make him go on another bender.
Wait a second...
He threw open the door to the cabinet by the microwave, the one where he kept his scotch and bourbon. It was empty.
"Lisa, you sneaky little wench," he muttered out loud, shutting the cabinet door.
Hi-Dee-Ho indeed.
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Cameron showed up at lunchtime with a reuben sandwich. No pickles.
"Playing hooky, Cameron? Can I see your hall pass?"
"My lunch hour is my own time. How are you doing?" She was still in her white doctor coat, sitting with him on the sofa, looking back and forth at him and Steve McQueen's cage.
As always she looked ready to take on the world. House wondered how she managed to make herself do that every single day without gagging.
"How am I doing? Let's see...", said House, ripping the foil from the sandwich. "First I throw myself into a four day scotch and insomnia oblivion. Then some certain doctors who shall remain nameless for the time being tattle on me because they think I can't do my job. So Boss Lady pulls my authorization and orders me to stay home for three days. For the last thirty-six hours I've been unconscious or too weak to stand up longer than five minutes, so I haven't been able to do any serious damage as of yet. That's how I'm doing. Thanks for asking." After his little speech he took a breath and wolfed down half the sandwich in three bites.
"We were concerned about you."
"I never said you weren't," he said, just to see her reaction. He wasn't disappointed. She was thrown for a second and she knew he had seen it.
"I've been answering your mail. Foreman and Chase have split your clinic hours," said Cameron, returning her gaze to Steve McQueen.
"So you should be. Here's a novel idea, Dr. Cameron, tell me something I don't know." He said it louder and more caustically than he had to, but he wasn't being sarcastic for the sake of being sarcastic. He didn't want her thinking she could just drop by whenever she felt like it, and he sure as hell didn't want her around if Cuddy decided to come back early. The fact that Cameron still had a crush on him was all but tattooed on her forehead. She was still under the delusion that she could fix him.
Cameron glared him icily. "What the hell set you off on that bender in the first place?"
House polished off the remains of the reuben.
"That's between me and the Gods of scotch and insomnia." He balled up the foil and tossed it at her. Cameron caught it without flinching.
"Would it kill you to express your feelings just once?"
"I'm not the one who has a problem with my feelings, Dr. Cameron. But tell me this–if you were so concerned for my welfare why did you wait four days before voicing your concern?"
"You would have fought us every step of the way," she said without missing a beat.
"So you waited until you thought I was too weak to fight back. That's an interesting approach."
"Being the stubborn bastard you are it was the only approach. I have to get back to work."
Halfway to the door she suddenly stopped and turned around. "You liked the sandwich"
"Yes, I did," he answered truthfully.
"Thanks. I made it myself. Let me know if you want another one," she said, then stalked out the door.
It must have taken all her willpower not to slam it.