"You ready?" he asked House, who was still pretty much out of it.
"Hmm," he murmured, which Wilson guessed was going to be the closest he got to an answer. He soaked some gauze and starting at the bottom of the leg, he gently wiped some of the dried blood, teasing out some of the in-bedded gravel with the tweezers as he worked. House tensed, winced and then grab his leg.
"Stop, please, just stop, it hurts way too much," House whined, his face pale and sweaty.
"ER," was all Wilson said.
"Just, just let me get some rest first and then you can clean it, I promise I won't complain or anything, I just need some sleep first."
Wilson thought about it, House had been pretty much right about having no serious injuries and it was obvious that it was going to cause him a tremendous amount of pain to have his leg cleaned up so what was wrong with letting him rest a bit first? Except, Wilson couldn't shift the niggling doubt that there was something really wrong if House was suddenly so tired.
"I'll let you rest, but I'm going to come and check your neuro obs every 15 minutes okay?"
"I'm fine."
"Do it my way or ER way," Wilson told him sternly.
"I'm fine," House repeated.
"I'm serious, Greg, I will dial 911 and admit you myself."
"Fine, just let me sleep." Wilson nodded to himself and left House alone to catch whatever sleep he could manage in a fifteen minutes period. He sank onto the couch and put his head in his hands. This was not how it was supposed to have gone.
He'd lied to Greg as to why he was on his doorstep; Julie had kicked him out, but not for a few days - for good. He'd been unable to lie to her this time when she'd asked him why there were porn sites in his Internet cookies. And not just any porn sites, these were male on male ones and it seemed pointless to continue to lie to his wife and in some respects himself. He hadn't planned on telling House how he felt, at least not straight away because he had no idea how he would react, if he was honest with himself he loved House as more than a friend and had done for a while and although he knew that House was definitely not completely straight, it was impossible to tell if he felt the same way - especially since Stacy had completely and utterly fucked House up as far as relationships went.
He looked at his watch and headed back to check on House. He was moaning in his sleep and had rolled onto his left side, his arm clutching at his stomach.
"Greg," he said, shaking his friend awake. "I just need to check your neuro obs." He fished out his penlight and checked House's pupils - they were fine. He grabbed both of his hands within his own and asked Greg to squeeze them. House did, but there seemed to be more of a weakness than there had been the time before.
He shook House again. "Greg, squeeze my hands," he said, loudly.
"Am," Greg said, sleepily.
"Seriously?"
"G'way, need sleep."
"Greg, wake up," he shook his arm some more, but there was no response. Okay, NOW he was worried. He shone his penlight in Greg's eyes once more and noticed how small the pupils were. How much Vicodin had he taken?
"Jesus, Greg, wake up," he shouted, roughly shaking him.
"I'm here," Greg said, his eyes opening slightly. "I'm fine."
"How much Vicodin have you taken today?"
"Enough."
"How much?"
"I forget."
"Christ. I'm calling an ambulance."
"Promised," was all House said as he slipped back into unconsciousness.
"Yeah, that was before I realised you were doped up to the eyeballs. Greg, stay with me."
"Had to."
"Had to what?"
"I had to take it all, it hurt."
"Your leg? Of course it hurt, you brought home half of the road with you."
"Feel sick," Greg murmured, turning on his side as he lost the battle with his stomach. Wilson helped him stay on his side until he had stopped vomiting. "T'hurts," Greg moaned.
"Your leg?" Wilson asked, still trying to decide if he could handle House at home or whether he needed to involve Cuddy.
"Stomach," House said, his voice almost a whisper.
"Lie back, let me have a look," Wilson said, all traces of anger gone because his friend was in some serious pain, the man he loved was in serious pain and he wanted to make it go away.
He helped Greg lie back on the bed, his mouth still covered with tinges of vomit, a reddish brown covering his lips. That was what worried Wilson the most, that the vomit had blood in it, quite a bit of blood - something wasn't right here and he didn't really know what. As he helped House roll up his shirt, he pulled his cell phone from his bag and dialled Cuddy's number. He didn't pressed send straight away, wanting to know more about what was going on before he alerted the hospital.
"I'm gonna press down on your stomach, Greg, okay?"
"T'hurts."
"I know, but I've got to know what's going on so I know what to tell the paramedics." No matter what protest House might have wanted to put up, the fight left him as the pain took its grip, he knew there was no way he could ignore this especially not with Wilson there.
Wilson looked at the purple bruise forming on House's stomach and started to gently press around it. House yelped in pain, his body tensed and Wilson knew that it wouldn't be too long before he started to cry out in pain.
"I'm sorry, Greg, I just got to know what's going on."
"Stoppit," House said, trying to bat him away but not having the energy to even do that. Wilson stepped back from House and picked up his cell phone. He'd call the paramedics first and then Cuddy.
"911, what is your emergency?"
"My name's Dr. James Wilson and I work at PPTH, I need an ambulance for one of my patients. He's got a severe concussion, possible Vicodin OD, tender abdo, vomited blood, his GCS is about 11, but I'm not pleased with it."
"Okay doctor, the address?"
As James called the ambulance and Cuddy to fill her in, Greg felt himself slipping in and out of it. He heard parts of the conversation and wanted to argue that it wasn't a Vicodin OD, he hadn't taken too much, if it had stopped hurting then that would have been right but it still hurt pretty damn much. He felt the bile rise in his throat before he could say anything and he just didn't have the energy to move.
"Hang on, Cuddy, I gotta roll him," Wilson said, dropping the phone and rolling House just as he started to vomit again. It was blood this time, pure and simple and it confirmed to Wilson that he'd done the right thing in calling an ambulance.
He kneeled on the bed so that his left knee was wedged in Greg's back, keeping him on his side in case he vomited again.
"Sorry, Lisa, I gotta go, just have a room ready for him with everything I asked for, okay?"
"Sure thing, just keep him alive until he's here and then I'll kill him." Wilson would have laughed at her comment if he hadn't been scared for House.
"Greg, can you hear me?" he asked, re-assessing his friend. There was no response and Wilson leaned over his body, Greg's eyes were closed.
"Christ, Greg, why couldn't you have just told me you hurt yourself worse in the crash, why do you have to be so stubborn all the time. I left Julie today, I finally admitted to her that I love you, I was going to tell you but then this happened and if you can't even trust me to tell me you're hurt how can you love me?"
There was a knock at the door and Wilson propped House on his side with pillows before going to let the paramedics in. "He's been sick twice, GCS is down to 8, he needs fluids and o2," Wilson told them, heading over to House's side and feeling for his pulse, it was slow and faint which just worried him more.
"Shouldn't we get him to the hospital, Dr. Wilson?"
"I want him stable before he's moved, Cuddy is ready for us anytime." Wilson told them. He motioned for one of the paramedics to try and start a line while he set up the oxygen.
"Come on, Greg, don't do this to me," he said, staring at House's unconscious form.