Author's Note: The first section is sort of from House's perspective (Sorry, but if I don't say it – I'll get someone asking about it!) then it goes back to the free-for-all that's usually associated with my shoddy writing style. Hope you enjoy; No real action in this chapter (and hardly a cliff-hanger to worry about), hopefully it's not too boring? Let me know… x

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House panicked as a wave of uncertainty washed over him; 'Oh shit – am I dead? Did they make it in time? Why can't I open my eyes?' he thought franticly as the Anaesthesia rendered him hopelessly lost.

He couldn't feel anything. No pain in his leg, back or arm. He couldn't move; although, he was aware that he wasn't laying on his back. 'Thank God…' The only other thing he seemed to be able to grasp, at that moment in time, was the fact that he could hear people talking around him.

The twelfth rib was the cause of the rupture; it was probably supported by the swelling earlier on... House zoned out temporarily until the voice changed to one that was more familiar; he really didn't want to hear what they'd done to him without being able to sufficiently berate them for it.

How bad was it? He heard Wilson ask anxiously after the other man finished his long-winded explanation; 'Surgeons really are boring…I'm surprised he even had to use an anaesthetic on me…'

Bad enough that we found it necessary to remove the rib before it caused more damage. The stern voice replied; House determined it was a surgeon from PPTH; particularly judging by the way he didn't seemed too bothered about removing a patient's rib, indicating he probably knew House and didn't much like him.

'You removed my rib? Do you realise how much that is gonna hurt?' House thought, panic rising as the fear of agonisingly horrific pain shrouded him for a moment. 'Calm down you idiot – you're not in any pain…yet'

Will his sats improve? 'Jesus, I didn't even know they were bad' House thought, now dimly aware of the O2 mask on his face; he was glad he was unconscious during the intubation period. The O2 mask over the face was almost soothing compared to waking up with a tube shoved down your throat and a machine breathing for you.

We would hope to see an improvement over the next few hours, provided he wakes up from the Anaesthesia…Dr Wilson, you do realise how lucky he was to make it this far? The voice was beginning to piss House off now; 'Of course he realises – he's a doctor too, you moron!'

Yes...I realise…Uh, Will there be lasting damage from the op? Wilson asked, annoying House. 'Don't be stupid, Wilson; you don't need two kidneys…basic human anatomy tells you that!'

If he survives this…The surgeon must have been shaking his head at Wilson's absolute refusal to accept that his friend may not live through the night because everything fell silent for a few seconds. If he regains consciousness, he'll be in considerable discomfort… 'Otherwise known as complete agony' House thought nonchalantly as he heard the voices getting further and further away. 'No, don't walk away! Come back!'

But as long as the incision doesn't become infected, he should be fine, right? came Wilson's next question as they apparently turned to face the patient once again.

I've done my job; all we can do now is pump him full of antibiotics and blood; I'm afraid I don't give guarantees. 'Yeah, play the whole 'no refunds' card…what surgeon doesn't do that?' I'll need to speak to his attending-

Yeah, you're looking at him... 'Oh God, No way!' House groaned inwardly, wishing he wasn't bedridden and semi conscious. 'Wilson, let the real doctors play with the good toys – I don't have cancer; I don't need an Oncologist!'

You're his attending? House could pretty much imagine the surgeon looking down his nose at Wilson with a mixture of disbelief and bemusement on his face.

Yes Wilson didn't sound too sure; I know his history, he trusts me 'I don't trust you that much…' Look, I'm here – I don't trust anyone else…just tell me what I need to know...please. 'Don't beg, now you sound pathetic!'

If you want to be his attending, then you can be his attending. Although I understand that Dr Cuddy may have the final authority to provide such an appointment. 'Where the hell is Cuddy anyway? I don't want Wilson as my attending!' Okay, here's the full account of the surgery…

'Jesus, how did he fall for tha – ow! Oh shit!' Pain flummoxed any thoughts that were processing in House's disjointed mind as he choked back a cry, his eyes flickering open and immediately closing in reflex to the bright hospital lighting that blinded him.

He distinctly heard the scraping of a chair and at least two sets of feet jogging over to him before he was put out with fantastically strong painkillers, presumably via the IV line now situated in his left arm. 'Christ…if it hurts this much when I'm heavily drugged…' the thought drifted off before he could contemplate the pain he'd be likely to experience in a few hours time, his mind unable to unfold such complex issues whilst inviting oblivion.

Apparently he may be stronger than I thought House heard the surgeon admit to Wilson, before he was warmly welcomed back into the land of la la.

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The only problem with drifting under a General Anaesthetic was the dreams it invited; some of them were great, but most of them were unnerving.

House awoke with a start, under the impression that he was trapped in a capsized submarine…or ship…or… "Ambulance – fuck" he choked as his eyes flickered open and the pain in his side overwhelmed him.

The high pitched noises coming from the heart and pulse ox monitors above his head were deafening; it took him more than a few seconds of gasping and blinking in shock to realise that he was facing an extremely concerned looking Cuddy, who seemed to be shouting something at him.

"Speak to me, House!" Cuddy repeated, turning away momentarily to yell to Wilson, "He's not responding – just give him the analgesic before he arrests!"

Wilson hovered the drug over the IV port; within the last two minutes, he'd completely changed his mind about being House's attending. He'd waited through three hours of surgery and an hour of post op monitoring, only to freeze at the last minute.

"Wilson!" Cuddy shouted sternly, regretting her unwilling descision to appoint him as House's attending. 'I knew this was a bad idea…' she thought as she kept a reassuring hand on House's shaking shoulder, glaring at the other doctor as he eventually plunged the drug into the patient's system. Cuddy felt the tension leave House's body as he calmed down and breathed a little easier.

"I couldn't – shit" Wilson cursed as he dropped the empty vial onto the floor and looked up to meet Cuddy's angry gaze.

She saw the raw panic in his eyes and her demeaneor softened slightly; "Go and get some rest…" Wilson was about to argue before she cut him off, "You've been up for at least 18 hours, straight – you can't do anything for him until he wakes up properly…I'll stay with him until then."

It was a sensible proposition and Wilson could see no room for arguments. "Page me if he wakes up again" he said quietly as he shuffled towards the door, "and don't tell him I screwed up."

"You didn't…screw up" Cuddy didn't manage to get the sentence out before Wilson had left the room; she sighed and turned her attention back to the patient, "feeling better?"

"Much…" House gasped, watching her through half-lidded eyes, "how did you-"

"Your breathing is restricted, pulse is elevated and you're trembling slightly; it wasn't hard to determine it's because you're conscious." Cuddy replied as she adjusted his O2 cannular slightly. "How bad is the pain?"

"S'not bad" he slurred, wincing slightly as he attempted to move his left arm which was a little dead, probably from him laying on it.

"Liar" Cuddy said softly, putting her hand out to stop him from moving his arm any further, "You don't want to rip out your IV" she explained. "Just let me know when you want to hear about your surgery. I've got the notes somewhere around here…"

"How's your wrist?" he asked quietly, closing his eyes and favouring the sounds of the hospital rather than the sights.

"Err…it's still attached" Cuddy replied, sounding surprised at the unexpected question; "Had to get a new cast fitted after the other one got wet – apparantly you're not supposed to go swimming with them on" she deadpanned.

House smirked lazily, still keeping his eyes closed; it was suprising to realise how soothing Cuddy's voice actually was. 'It's probably just the drugs…but I could lay here and listen to her talk all day…' he thought contently, 'especially since she's not yelling at me...'

"House?" He cracked one eye open tiredly at the soft whisper of his name, taking in the sight of his worried looking boss; "Sorry, I thought maybe you'd fallen asleep…you really should get some rest now" she acknowledged, feeling terribly guilty for keeping him up with her mundane chatting.

The relief at finding him awake and relatively coherant had her positively elated, though; but the last thing she wanted to do now was keep him from getting the valuable rest he needed in his recovery. 'There'll be time to talk later…then maybe you can tell him how you feel…'

She pulled the small visitors chair over and sat close to his sleepy form; after doing a quick scan of his vitals, she meticulously checked over him with her eyes.

The hospital starched sheets were pulled up as far as his waist, ending at the dressing over his fresh wound, the insicion site from his recent op.

His magnificent bruising was just as prominent and startling over his ribs now that it was several colourful shades of blue, and was accompanied by what would become an outstanding scar.

His right arm was bandaged at the elbow, fresh blood seeping slightly through the white material where the IV had been ripped out earlier in the night. He was on his left hand side, both arms bent with his hands just in front of his face; if he were to start sucking one of his thumbs, she would surely mistake him for a five year old…albeit at very tall, gruff looking five year old!

Cuddy leaned back in the chair, placing an arm over her stomach as she felt some discomfort; she put it down to hunger pangs and took a couple of deep breaths until the pain passed. "Did you get checked over?" House's voice almost made her jump out of the chair in shock.

"What?" she snapped, a little harsher than planned; he'd caught her unaware with his question, especially since she'd told him to sleep – and she'd assumed that he had been following that order.

"When you were rescued by the good looking guy…" he elaborated slowly, exasperation and jealously tinging his fatigued words to some extent; "did he check you over? Has anyone checked you're okay since you came in?"

"No, why?" she asked apprehensively; House acting all kind and caring was worrying her. "For some reason we were more concerned with your wellbeing…" she said patronisingly as she pulled her jumper off. 'Why do they make hospital rooms so damned hot?' she thought indignantly as she stuffed the offending jumper into her bag.

"You've got Salmonellosis…" he said weakly, too quietly for Cuddy to hear, as he fumbled for his PCA; the pain was rearing it's ugly head and he required relief, right now. He pressed the button to increase his painkillers, but nothing happened; he continued pressing in desperation, secretly willing Cuddy to help him.

"What's wrong?" she asked worriedly, taking note of his shallow breathing and flushed cheeks, "We haven't got the PCA set up yet – hang on" she scooted round the bed and grabbed a vial, injecting some of its contents into his IV line. "We really weren't expecting you to be awake so soon…"

House grunted in response and lost himself in the respite; he was aware that he needed to say something to Cuddy, but he couldn't recall what or why as he drifted off into a troubled sleep...

TBC…