Not much was changed here. I think that this was one of my better written chapters. I can relate to how House felt waking up, I was in an accident and the same thoughts went through my mind. :)

House was reluctant to open his eyes. If he hurt this much with his eyes closed, how would he feel with them open? He didn't want to know. So he laid there, trying to figure out what hurt and what did not. The 'did not' list was very short compared to the 'did'.

What had happened in the clinic replayed in his mind. Bill saying how it was his fault that this had brother died, Bill attacking him, and then...nothing. House wondered if anyone found him or was he still on the clinic floor.

Letting his curiosity get hold of him, he slowly opened his eyes, getting a first look at his surroundings. He was in one of PPTH's hospital rooms, second floor judging by the blue wallpaper that lined the walls. He slowly eased his head to the left, seeing a monitor showing his blood pressure and heart rate, both of which were normal.

A sharp jolt of pain invaded his head. He shut his eyes, waiting for the pain to pass. When it did, he opened his eyes again.

With his adjusted vision he saw a window with the blinds drawn with sunlight trying to get through.

House glanced down at his arm, and saw an IV that was on the top of his hand. He traced it up to two clear plastic bags hanging on a steel pole. One contained saline, while the other was painkillers.

Wonderful.

House moved his line of vision, and there asleep in one of those uncomfortable hospital armchairs, was James Wilson, covered with a thin white blanket.

House felt relief knowing that Wilson had watched over him while he was ill. He smiled as he observed his friend. His brown hair was disheveled and his shirt was untucked and wrinkled, but it was the same Wilson.

"Wilson." He remained asleep. "Hey Wilson!" House said a little louder.

Wilson stirred and rubbed his eyes. When he saw House awake, he threw off the blanket and scooted his chair next to House's bedside.

"How are you feeling?" Wilson asked.

"Horrible. Like I got beat up." House rubbed his temples. He looked to his side at Wilson. His curious brown eyes lined with dark circles were full of concern. "You don't look to good yourself though either Jimmy."

"Well that's what happens when you worry and then spend the night in a chair," Wilson said, rubbing his neck.

House sighed which made is back, head and everything else hurt. He looked down at his arms that were bruised. "What are my injuries?"

"A concussion and lots of bruises. But other than that, nothing."

"How did you find me?" House asked.

Wilson bit his bottom lip. "Cuddy was going crazy trying to find you. Chase and Cameron in on the search and they eventually found you knocked out in the clinic."

"I told Cuddy the clinic was bad for me." House looked through the clear door that showed the hallway of the hospital. It was busy, and House guessed it must be about mid-day. Then a thought struck him. "How long have I been out?"

"About a day."

"I was whacked out that long?"

"Yeah." Wilson smoothed out a wrinkle in House's sheet. "But at least your sense of humor wasn't 'whacked out'," he remarked.

House rolled his eyes and remembered what he should asked first.

"Did you get him?" House asked anxiously. "He -"

"Calm down, don't worry about it. Cuddy's got it all under control," Wilson assured him.

"Oh I feel so much better," House said sarcastically. "But really, it was this guy Bill, and he said that-"

"Don't think about it."

House sighed. Was anyone going to listen to him? Bill was a criminal and he needed to be caught.

Another wave of pain went through House. He gritted his teeth and put his hand to his head.

"Does it hurt really bad?" Wilson asked in concern.

"Uh-yeah."

"You want another dose of medicine?"

House nodded his head, soon regretting it because it made his pain even worse.

Wilson pulled out his pager, pressed some buttons then put it back on his belt. "Hold on," he told House.

"Who'd you call?" House asked.

"It doesn't matter, you don't like anyone anyway."

"You got a point."

After a few short seconds of waiting, Chase and Foreman rushed into the room.

"Hey, you're awake," Foreman said.

"Wow, I am. I guess you are too," House said.

"Now that's the House we all know and love," Chase said as he switched out the plastic bags of medicine.

"I'm not so sure about the "love" part," Wilson commented.

"That's for sure." Foreman stood at the foot of House's bed. "So how are you feeling?"

"Other than my head and everything else hurting, I'm great. How about you?"

"Do you always have to be sarcastic?" Wilson asked.

"This isn't sarcasm. This is normal." House looked around the room. "Where's the other one?"

"Who?" Chase asked.

House rolled his eyes. "You know who I'm talking about. Cameron."

"I...don't know. I don't think she went home this morning early."Wilson said. "She wasn't here when I woke up.

Chase shook his head. "She would have told us if she left."

"I know." Foreman flipped put his phone and dialed a number. After a minute or so, he shut it. "She's not answering her phone."

"This isn't like Cameron," Wilson said with worry.

"No, it's not." Foreman went to the door. "I'm going to go see if I can find her."

"I'll go too," Chase said as he followed Foreman out the door.

House's worry increased with every second while Foreman and Chase were gone. And when he heard "Dr. Cameron, report to room 212" repeated three times, his fears could almost be confirmed. Bill said he would take away everything he had, and Cameron was a start.

Thirty minutes later, Chase and Foreman came back into the room.

"She's nowhere in the hospital. Cameron's gone," Chase said.

House replied with a simple "I know."