"Get Dr. Wells."
House's eyes followed Cameron out the door, then flicked up to Foreman as he moved close to the bed, brandishing a little flashlight.
"I'm sorry I had to do that," Park said, as Foreman checked the man's eyes. "I couldn't hear."
"How are you...alive?" Cuddy asked, bewildered.
"I imagine it involves a lot of sex. And also not dying."
Her eyebrows went up at the comment that was so...typical of him.
He looked around the room, eyes pointed slightly downward. "Has anyone seen my cane?"
"House. The cuffs?" Foreman prompted.
"Right." House lay back down, looking at Cuddy. "You like that?"
Adams looked from him to Cuddy. "Should we leave the two of you alone?"
"Not if Dr. Wells is coming in. But, raincheck..." House shrugged.
Cuddy couldn't look away from him. He was acting like his old self... Or was it a show he was putting on?
"House," she said tentatively. "What's the last thing you remember?"
"Surgery."
"What's the first?" Adams inquired.
"Hm." House sobered quickly as he tried to reflect. "Uh, waking up, and not knowing any of you." He paused and surveyed the room. "Any of you seen my cane?" he asked again, and tried sitting up. Of course the handcuffs restricted him. "Wait, didn't I just ask that?"
"You've been through a lot," Foreman told him.
"True. This is the second time we gave you a funeral you weren't dead for," Taub commented.
House looked down and slowly raised his hands, and all eyes went to the cuffs as they scraped on the handles of the gurney.
"We're going to get to the bottom of this," Cuddy told him.
The door opened and Cameron escorted Wells, Linwood, and a third doctor into the room. Looking fit to kill, Cuddy turned to face them and put her hands on her hips. "Okay, gentlemen. Walk us through it."
"Clear, damnit," Wells yelled, and attempting to leap out of harm's way, one of the doctors bashed his head on the surgical light fixture. He staggered back, disoriented, watching through the pain as Wells again zapped House.
"Okay, stop. He's back."
"Let's patch him up and get him out of here."
The machines beeped calmly as the surgeons closed up House's head. They wheeled him from the OR and into recovery. "Hell of a hit back there; you okay?"
"I'm fine," he lied. "I'm going to go find Dr. Chase." He left the OR with a slight stagger and came walking into the lobby. Cameron was crying by the wastebasket, but upon seeing the unsteady doctor, she quickly brushed aside her sadness and moved to his side.
"Are you drunk?"
"No, I... I think I banged my head."
Regaining consciousness, House weighed the pros and cons of using the bedpan or going to the toilets. It wasn't long before he was sitting up and looking for his cane. It wasn't there. So House took his time moving with agonizing slowness into the hallway, where he needed a break—and where he decided that he could no longer tolerate the itchy admission bracelet. He pawed it off his wrist and continued lurching towards the washroom.
Making it inside, he shut the door as a gurney was wheeled past the washroom, carrying Greg Hill. A woman loyally following the gurney saw the admission bracelet on the floor and retrieved it, looking at the Greg H beneath her thumb. "Wait, hold on," she said, and approached the idle gurney to slide the bracelet onto the man's wrist. "Okay."
Linwood uncovered his eyes and looked in mortification at the people gathered nearby. "God, I didn't think anything of it. I thought she knew what she was doing."
All eyes went to the doctor who had banged his head. "Are you sure you're okay?" Cameron inquired.
"Yeah. Still hurts, but I can remember again."
"Next time a doctor is using paddles, maybe you can avoid touching the patient," Wells snapped. "I got fired because you wouldn't wait."
House's mutter summoned all eyes and ears. "I think you got fired because I wouldn't use the bedpan."
Cuddy gripped his hand in hers, feeling a rush of joy when he squeezed. "That explains a lot. But I'd still like to know why you're chained to the bed."
His eyes shyly met hers.