Author's Note: I would have posted this earlier, but I had to rewrite it several times (scrapping about three completely different drafts!) So hopefully this is okay...? I have some great ideas for the next chapter or two (then I'll wrap it up – I promise!) Enjoy (and embrace the almost-Huddyness!) x
Cuddy winced as the young EMT gingerly cut off her sodden, graffiti-riddled cast; she was sitting in the back of yet another ambulance at the top of the verge after refusing to let them take her in until she'd seen House safely into the helicopter.
She'd hated the way she sounded like a panic-stricken wife demanding to know if he was okay or not, but apparently the rescue teams were more than familiar with this reaction from loved ones.
Loved ones? Now that wasn't something she'd been referred to in regards to House before. Yet, for the rescue personnel, it seemed to fit. She certainly cared if he was still breathing; although, she could put that down to guilt more than anything else.
She pulled a thick blanket firmly around her damp clothes, ignoring the look a nearby EMT gave her for being so stubborn as to refuse to be taken to hospital yet; forgoing her own health to make sure House was fine would have seemed like madness to her too, at least, two days ago it would…
Allowing a small grin to play on her lips, she turned the cast over in her hands; Property of G House… 'He would think he owns you…' she thought bemusedly as her attention was caught by something else written on the previously unseen part of the cast.
Written in neat, compact handwriting, away from the games of tic tac toe and stickmen families was an apology. "Sorry for ruining your weekend" she read, feeling completely stupid for clamming up slightly at the unexpected words.
'Oh, pull yourself together; this is House. It's probably just his way of being smug and…' but she couldn't think what he would actually gain out of writing it. 'Doesn't mean it's a genuine apology…' she tried to convince herself, failing miserably as she thought back to what he did for her in the ambulance. 'Maybe you're not the only one feeling guilty…' she concluded as commotion by the edge of the bank shook her out of her musings.
Cuddy got as close to the edge as she could without getting in the way of the rescue team; she sucked in a concerned breath as she heard a weary groan from her patient. 'He's awake' she thought, making her feel both reassured and apprehensive at the same time as she watched the small crew hoist the patient over the top of the bank on a plastic stretcher.
Wilson scrambled over the top, cursing as he slipped once again in the mud; never again would he be idiotic enough to attempt abseiling down muddy banks, especially not in a starched, white doctor's coat.
"Wilson!" Cuddy called as the rescue team ran full pelt towards the helicopter with House strapped to the stretcher, his limp limbs lolling with every painful jolt.
Wilson watched the men taking his friend away, and then turned to his boss; prioritising his attention in such frantic circumstances seemed to come naturally for the Oncologist.
"What's wrong?" Cuddy asked fearfully, seeing the hesitation clearly in Wilson's stance.
"I…He…" Wilson motioned to the helicopter, which was taking off; "…from his ribs all the way down to his hip" he finished, unable to articulate what he was trying to say, but knowing Cuddy would immediately understand.
"The internal bleeding" she stated quietly, her mind flashing back to the ambulance.
Wilson nodded, "I don't even know how he's still awake, let alone…" he trailed off reluctantly as the image of House closing his eyes and falling into the deepest sleep of his life, involuntarily flashed into his head.
"Where are they taking him?" Cuddy asked sternly, knowing that she had to find this out before Wilson started retching, or worse, passed out on her – he was now looking particularly pale.
"Uh, I told them we had a team waiting at Princeton Plainsboro' already" he said shakily, "they're still waiting, right?"
"Yeah" she replied softly, leading Wilson into her ambulance and indicating to the waiting EMT that she was ready to be taken in now. "They're ready and waiting."
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For House, the entire helicopter journey passed amid one huge, uncomfortable blur; if anyone was to ask him about it later on, he'd deny he was ever in it. He couldn't recall much from the transfer from bank to air; he'd come back to reality when an O2 mask was thrust swiftly over his mouth and a BP cuff was applied to his upper arm.
The immense relief at being allowed to spend the journey on his left hand side was momentarily ruined early on as his injured arm was further bound and manipulated at the discovery of free-flowing blood; the sickly throbbing at the crook of his elbow where the IV line was ripped out was enough to add to his agonising discomfort, causing him to flinch feebly against his medical aide.
The EMT wasn't deterred, carrying on regardless as he released the injured arm and prepared the other for a new IV. His patient's BP was unsteadily low, and judging by the multicoloured bruising covering a good part of his right hand side, it was due to some serious internal bleeding.
The flight lasted only a matter of minutes. House felt the stretcher being rushed out of the helicopter and into the hospital; it was too much effort to pry his eyes open in the hope that he could determine which hospital he'd eventually ended up in.
He could feel his body growing weary of surviving merely on instinct; his breath was becoming harder to find and the pain in his back was fading...but not in a good way. It was all he could do not to attempt to yell at the staff pushing him through the brightly lit corridors to 'go faster'.
Eventually he gave up the fight and let unconsciousness wash over him; relieving him of having to remember trivial little things, such as 'how to breathe'. All he could do now was hope he would wake up.
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Cuddy and Wilson charged determinedly through the familiar corridors of PPTH, ignoring the shocked faces of other members of staff and patients.
Cuddy was still clutching the blanket tightly around her shoulders with her good hand, her hair damp and tangled, her clothes soggy and wrinkled; Wilson looked no better with his usually pristine coat caked in mud and blood…House's blood.
They reached the waiting area outside the OR and paused, unsure of what they were expecting to find. Cuddy sighed, "I'm going to shower – they're going to be a while, and that river did nothing for my hair; let me know if anything…changes" she said calmly to the Oncologist's back.
"Oh, and Wilson," he turned to look at her inquisitively, "change your coat before you start scaring patient's away" he smiled slightly before pulling the coat off and dumping it behind the nurse's station as Cuddy retreated.
It didn't take long for him to settle down into a chair directly outside of the operating room, ready for the long wait…
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It took less than half an hour for Cuddy to reappear; looking and smelling less like the creature from the lagoon. She felt a lot better too; that is, until she saw the worried frown on Wilson's face as he stood to meet her. 'Something's happened...'
She found herself taking in a deep breath and holding it as Wilson filled her in with the details. "They weren't able to do it laparoscopicly; they had to go in through his side..." Wilson began, hesitating slightly as he cleared his throat nervously; "He coded. Just before they got him in there. But they've got him stable now...His 12th right rib had to be removed and the kidney also had to be taken out..."
"But that's fine, right?" Cuddy asked, reassuringly putting a hand on Wilson's shoulder; "It means the problem's gone now"
"Yeah." Wilson stated unconvincingly, sitting back down and leaning his head against the wall dejectedly.
"Don't tell me – you're feeling guilty too?" Cuddy guessed, trying not to smile at the fact that guilt seemed to be the order of the day. She shook her head slightly in disbelief, "I've got to get this seen to" she motioned to her poorly wrist; "think you'll be able to manage feeling guilty for both of us while I'm gone?"
"Sure" he replied, not really listening to a word she was saying, but keeping his focus on the passage to the OR.
"Wilson" his head snapped away from the door at Cuddy's call; "He'll be fine...he'll be in a lot of pain – but he'll be okay"
"Yeah" Wilson said softly, watching his boss walk authoritatively down the corridor. He sighed as he recalled what the Surgical team had really told him...He's coded twice already. It's touch and go. He may not make it through the night.
'Oh, Cuddy is going to kill you if she ever finds out you lied to her about his condition...' he thought miserably; 'But House asked you to; he specifically told you to 'tell her everything will be alright' because he didn't want to hurt her again...' he remembered the laboured conversation he and House had gone through on the way to the top of the bank. House had virtually given him a list of instructions and orders to follow in the event of his death; Wilson had told him to 'shut up and save your energy for more productive things – like breathing!'
"I'm not lying for you any more, House" Wilson muttered quietly, aiming the statement beyond the closed doors and to the lifeless man on the operating table; "You can damned well tell her yourself that you're in love with her..."
TBC...