Nuances of Screaming

This fic was a challenge from Ataea, which I'm going to hold up as an excuse for any strangeness about it. As in... certain plot issues. And... randomness... Nevertheless, I thank her for helping me fill in a long, boring afternoon.

Anyway. It's a fic. Best I could do, considering I'm leaving again on Tuesday (Australian time). Farewell for a second time!

House screamed. To Cuddy, who had long experience in such things, it had the ring of pain. Bad pain. Somehow, it was subtly different from anger screaming, screams of frustration, upset screaming, or any of the others from the wide range of pain yelling. No, this was almost definitely the sort of pain that didn't leave the mind open to many options but to lie still and loudly vent the lungs.

She was momentarily undecided whether to run towards or away from the sound. Years of med school and years more of knowing House made the choice for her, almost like an instinct. House was a loose cannon as it was. House in mind numbing pain was just plain dangerous.

Her lab-coat flapped behind her as she shifted up to top speed in high heels, thrusting the folders she'd been holding at a frozen intern. Turning the corner, the scene that hit her did nothing to alleviate the burning compulsion to get to House. She still couldn't see him for all the people clustered around, and who knew what he might accidentally (or purposefully) do whilst blinded by pain?

Authority is a tangible presence, and the white-coated ring dissipated away from her- doctors either making way, or leaving the scene now she was here to break it up. Naturally, House was lying in the middle, Cameron kneeling beside him, Forman standing to meet Cuddy, and Chase nowhere in sight.

'What happened?' she demanded of the neurologist, after a cursory glance at House. He was curled in a tight ball, although strangely enough, he wasn't digging agonized fingers into his thigh. At least the noise has stopped, Cuddy thought, and she knew he was gritting his teeth to keep silent now.

'We think his hand is broken. He won't uncurl long enough for us to check though.'

'That's because you 'checking' means unnecessarily hard, vindictive poking and prodding,' House said tightly from the floor. He didn't otherwise move. Cuddy grimaced slightly.

'It's not like you haven't broken it before,' she told him unsympathetically, stressing the 'you' slightly in reminder.

House swallowed, seeming to brace himself before flowing into a sitting position. 'Last time I couldn't see the bones sticking out,' he replied in sickly sweet tones, still cradling his hand. Cuddy carefully restrained herself from reacting, barely registering the small cry from Cameron. She could see blood- it either meant small skin lesions, or that a bone had pierced straight through the skin. She couldn't tell, he was keeping it too close to his chest. But she knew, just knew, that it was the latter.

'Tell me Chase has gone to fetch a gurney,' she said to the world at large.

'Yeah,' Foreman reassured her, scanning the hallway opposite in the hopes of seeing the intensivist appear. It rang oddly that he had been the one to answer, rather than a sarcastic jibe from the floor. Yet it did made a little sense, considering that House was starting to shiver, and probably wasn't paying much attention at this stage.

Cuddy jerked her head at Cameron, who was watching her, waiting for orders, and slightly afraid to touch House. The immunologist got it instantly. She took her labcoat off her shoulders and draped it over his. Foreman's quickly joined it. House weakly snapped something but he was rapidly tuning out from everything- a typical shock response.

It only took a couple more moments for Chase to return with the gurney. Then came the dilemma of how to get House on to it. It seemed all three of House's ducklings were reluctant to touch him, like he was somehow only faking this and would abuse them for doing so. When she saw their momentary hovering, Cuddy just rolled her eyes and ordered House to stand up. That seemed to break through his self-induced haze, tear his fixed gaze away from the middle-distance.

'Can't,' he said through teeth that chattered slightly. And then, 'it would also really be more polite to offer me some morphine before moving me.'

'You've got your Vicodin,' she told him harshly. House always complained of pain. She'd become somewhat inured to it. He looked at her with something disturbingly close to hatred, but that may just have been the pain clouding his eyes. He didn't say anything though, merely shifted his feet under him and grabbed the side of the gurney, preparing to stand. Every move he made seemed to drain more blood from his face. It was dripping out his hand, now he wasn't cradling it any more, although he still held it in close to his chest.

Cuddy felt a small gnawing of worry, but it wasn't near enough to the necessary prescience to get her out the way when House retched suddenly. He didn't manage more than a small splash of stomach acid, none of which got on her shoes. Still, the situation abruptly shifted into a new light for Cuddy- this wasn't anything to do with the endless low-level complaints about his thigh.

Motionless, House simply sat there for a moment, face grey with pain and head hanging. Chase broke the tableau, shifting past Cuddy to insert a drip into House's free hand, which was gripping the side of the gurney hard enough to start molding the metal.

'Saline'll get his blood pressure up' said Cameron, half to herself, half to Chase. Chase nodded, since he already had a bag in his hand. Foreman lifted House's legs and helped him to swivel so he was lying out along the length of the crisply white mattress. In an efficient bustle, House's three fellows were soon wheeling him down the halls, Cuddy striding beside, a cane almost absently clutched in her hand.

oo00OO00oo

Inside the hospital room, House rolled his head on the pillow, eyes slitted open like he wanted to be awake but could manage no more than that. The condensation in the oxygen mask he wore expanded and shrank in a regular rhythm- somewhat hypnotic, Cuddy thought. His hand was well bandaged and he was well under a heavy cocktail of drugs. They were just waiting now for an available OR.

No one had seen how it had happened, which seemed odd in such a busy hospital. His howling had rapidly brought half the world though, so it wasn't like anyone didn't know. House's anxious ducklings were fending off questions and jokes in their suddenly busy department. House was, after all, a legend, and a great source of gossip, even if you didn't actually want to get near him. Badgering his inferiors whilst he was safely under sedation was just the right compromise.

'Who's th' surg'n?'

The quiet, slurred question made Cuddy jump. She hadn't judged him awake enough to talk. 'Dr. Malam,' she replied softly. She thought he gave a huff at that, but it was hard to tell with the mask on. She smiled slightly. House had an objection to every surgeon in the hospital, and most of the surgeons in the surrounding ones. They were just lucky they'd been able to find an orthopedic without an objection to him.

'What did you do?'

The abrupt question was accompanied by a sliding closed of the room door, marking Wilson's entrance. He was stripping off gloves as he walked up to the bed, glancing only once at Cuddy. It looked like he'd been with a patient, and had only just been told of House's incident. Exasperation rolled off him in waves.

Eyes rolling like they wouldn't focus properly, House tried to look at Wilson. He said something that sounded like 'pick up sticks.'

Wilson blinked.

'Broken metacarpals,' Cuddy informed him dryly, when it appeared to sink in to Wilson that House wasn't incredibly with it.

'How?' he asked, eyes wide as the implications hit him.

'Don't know, but it's consistent with considerable force hitting the end of his fingers and forcing the bones up and through the skin.'

'He fell and caught himself on his fingers?' Wilson considered. Cuddy shrugged, tilting her head slightly.

'Hard to say. I thought we could just wait until he's out of surgery and ask him.'

Sighing, Wilson pulled up a seat to join her next to the bed. 'I suppose it's just as possible that he punched someone, with an injury like that.'

Cuddy smiled grimly. Wilson was joking, but she had checked to make sure there were no split skin or teeth marks on House's knuckles. 'Possible,' she replied, watching as House's eyes finally slid closed.

oo00OO00oo

House was very unamused by the sushi that he'd been brought.

'You can eat it with chopsticks,' Cameron offered helpfully.

'Assuming you can use chopsticks,' added Chase, biting the side of his cheek to keep from laughing. The sushi hadn't been his idea.

'You certainly can't use a knife and fork,' Foreman reminded him wryly. House glared at him, then neatly used the chopsticks to pick up a roll of sushi and make a threatening gesture with it. Foreman didn't even pretend to duck, and House never launched the food.

'If you can bring me cheap imitations of Asian food, then the least you can do is bring me an interesting case,' he informed them.

Chase shook his head. 'Nope. Strict orders from Cuddy. You're officially resting.'

There was the quiet sound of grinding teeth, which was tactfully ignored by Cameron as she tried to soften that blow. 'You should be resting too. Cases can take a break for long enough for you to-'

'Are you actually suggesting death will take a holiday long enough to satisfy Cuddy's insane, over-protective, mothering need to keep me in bed? Dr. Cameron, I believe you could actually be getting more naïve.'

Cameron's face betrayed a slight fall of hurt for a moment, but she was getting too good at House's games to let it show for long.

'You still haven't told us how it happened,' Foreman reminded him, to change the subject. House rolled his eyes before focusing on the neurologist.

'I've told you several times. You, for some reason, have either forgotten it, or chosen to ignore it.'

'Or don't believe it,' Cuddy supplied another option, entering the room on House's last sentence. His look shot daggers at her.

'Considering the laws of gravity, inertia and friction, it's really quite logical and believable. I slipped. It wouldn't even strain a concussed Newton.'

'You've been using your cane for years, and you've never once collapsed without interference. That's why we don't believe you.'

'We? Chase believes me.'

Chase returned the looks of Cuddy, Foreman and Cameron with wide, blue eyes. 'I never said that,' he denied quickly.

'Didn't have to,' replied House with equal speed. Chase scowled at him, and House looked smug at his ability to one-up at least one of his ducklings. Cuddy just sighed.

'I came in here to ask you three if you could possibly leave Dr. House alone so he could get some rest.' Her tone was diamond sharpness, covered with a very thin layer of honey. It wasn't a request. The ducklings complied quickly, filing out with muttered agreements, glad that even House's looks apparently couldn't kill.

'I find boredom very un-restful,' House told Cuddy sweetly. It somehow sounded like a threat. She pursed her lips, suddenly turning a serious look on him.

'House…' she started. He looked to be on the verge of making some sort of sarcastic comment, but miraculously held himself back, breaking eye contact to pick at the bandage on his hand.

'… I know it's… frustrating for you to have to lie here, but please…' she stared at him for a moment, before changing tones and picking up a different sentence. 'If you're going to try walking around before you're allowed, remember your muscles aren't used to having the cane on the left side.'

He raised an eyebrow as she fished a key out of her labcoat pocket without meeting his eyes, and quickly unlocked the cabinet next to the bed. Wryly, House watched her leave, not reaching over to open the cabinet. He knew that was they'd put his cane.

Upon exiting House's room, Cuddy instantly noticed Wilson sitting across the hall. 'I assume you gave him access to his cane?' he asked dryly.

'I thought it might not be a good idea for him to try getting around without it. A broken hand doesn't fix a missing thigh.'

'No,' replied Wilson wistfully. 'But I was looking forwards to at least one week's peace before he could move around.'

Cuddy smiled. 'It's not so bad having him around. Just so long as he never screams like that again.'

The End (now play guess what was in the challenge. Was it obvious?)