A/N: I still don't like this story. But I'm continuing simply for the sake of you people. FEEL HONORED! Oh yah and I have a cameo of something in this chapter…
Disclaimer: I don't own anything in this chapter.
Chapter 2: At the Hospal
The hospital was a busy place. Doctors everywhere were rushing to whatever patient was dying and writing whatever medication needed to be written. Then—all of a sudden—there was an excruciating scream.
"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!! HOSPITAL! DOCTORS! HOSPITAL! I'M IN A HOSPITAL! WITH DOCTORS! SHIT! OH SHIT! OH SHIT! OH…"
Doctor House, who just so happened to be walking by at the moment, was bugged by this noise. No, he considered it extremely annoying. He barged into the patient's room.
"HEY! Shut up, no one wants to listen to you whine!" House yelled, leaning on his cane.
"DITTO!" The patient yelled, and hacked at spitball in House's direction. "STAY AWAY FROM MY BLOOD!"
"Ew," House said offhandedly, looking at the spitball that had landed just an inch away from his foot. He then took a minute to survey the patient. He was tall and unnaturally thin, so thin that the hospital sheets almost devoured him. He had gained some color from the night before. "Hey… you're that creepy Goth vomit dude from last night."
"HA!" the patient yelled, and chucked his IV stand at House. He ducked just in time, and the IV went right over his head and crashed into the wall behind him.
"A bit touchy, are we?" House muttered. The IV had made a noticeable impact on the wall.
"FUCK!!" the patient screamed, grimacing and clutching his arm. He had thrown the IV so hard that he had ripped off a lot of the skin on his arm. The blood was seeping through his fingers.
"You see, this is why we don't chuck stuff at the nice doctors," House said angrily, and hit a distress button.
Four more doctors rushed in a second later.
"What's the matter?" an African American named Foreman asked.
"He threw his IV at my head," House said bitterly.
"BACK OFF, YOU SOUL-SUCKING MAGGOTS! SELF-CONSERNED BASTARDS! I HAVE NO SYMPATHY FOR A PROFESSION THAT TAKES ADVANTAGE OF WEAKNESS!" The patient screamed crazily, staggering out of bed and grabbing a few need needles like knives. Three doctors tackled him and pinned him to the hospital bed.
"Something tells me he doesn't like doctors," House said calmly. The patient shoved a needle into someone's back and they went limp.
"A symptom of psychosis?" Foreman asked.
"Nah, I think he was just crazy to begin with," House replied. "Get some hand cuffs." Then he went over to the patient as he was struggling with some of the larger doctors and stabbed a paralyzer into his neck. The patient staggered, then crumpled to the ground.
Three hours later…
"Wha…?" the patient murmured sleepily, raising his head to get a better look at House, who was flipping through the pages of a book.
"Attack me again and I shoot you up with this bad boy," House said, showing him an unusually large needle. "Though I don't think I'll have to, considering the fact that we handcuffed your hands and feet to the bed. Now, we can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way. All you have to do is answer a few questions so we can perform the surgery and not get sued. I can be here all night. See, I brought a book," he said, motioning to the book.
The patient opened his mouth angrily, but then stopped himself. "Later…" he muttered to himself.
"I'm sorry, what was that?" House asked, cupping his ear mockingly.
"I'll answer your questions," the man hissed.
"That's what I thought. Name?"
"Knee."
House looked up. "Knee? Who named you, Elbow?"
Knee looked exasperated and angry. "No. Why can't anyone understand that? Next question."
"Do you have any history of heart attacks or strokes?"
"No."
"Any allergies?"
"Only fuckin' cats."
"Language, Elbow."
"Knee."
"Whatever."
Knee glared in his direction. "What the hell's your problem…" he glanced at House's nametag. "…Doctor House? Why are you such an asshole to the people you're supposed to be helping?" he asked him shrewdly.
House rolled his eyes. "Aw come on, don't get all philosophical on me now. We're almost done. Any mental illnesses?"
"Um… let me think…" Knee said thoughtfully. "OH YAH! I was watching PBS yesterday and there was a special on about mental illnesses. I decided to watch it and wrote down all the ones I thought I had." Knee then got out a little piece of paper that was hidden in his hair. House was left to wonder for a second why anyone would hide anything inside their hair. "I haaaaaaaaaaaaave… psychosis, bipolar disorder, severe schizophrenia, paranoia…"
One hour later…
"… eretophobia, Insomnia, and several emotional disorders including manic depression."
House just looked at him. "O…kay. And what did you when you found out you were totally nuts?"
"I threw a grenade through the TV."
House stared. "Forget I asked."
"Ass."
House got up to leave. "Well, that's all I wanted to know. I'm going to go get approval to hack into your stomach and get whatever's causing you outta there, if you know what I mean." Then House picked up his stuff and prepared to leave.
"WAIT!" Knee called. House turned around slowly, wondering what else the fucker wanted. Knee took a deep breath and spoke to him slowly and seriously. "I'm going to give you one chance. Only one. And it isn't because I pity your useless shit-hole of a life. It's because I'm trying to quit, you lucky fucker. But if you insult anyone, anyone one more time, and you'll have me to answer to later."
House snorted. "Oooh, I'm so scared." He turned to leave. "Freak," he muttered.
As he closed the door and limped down the hallway, he heard Knee's shrill voice ringing throughout the halls. "I'LL SEE YOU LATER, HOUSE!"
House just rolled his eyes.
During the surgery…
"What the hell is that?" House asked, pointing to Knee.
It was during the surgery and House and his team were watching Knee's surgery simply due to the fact that there was nothing better to do.
"I don't know…" Cameron said, squinting. "It looks like—"
"Oh, you're just full of surprises, aren't you, sweetie pie?" House said bitterly. "Tell them to give it to me once they've removed it—I want to add it to my collection of weird things that were stuck in a person's stomach."
"Hey House," Foreman asked. "What do you got against this guy? What'd he ever do to you?"
"Yah, you've tested lots of mentally unstable people before, what makes him so special?"
"He threw an IV stand at my head," House whined.
The rest of the doctors just rolled their eyes.
After the surgery…
A man was rolling Knee out of the hospital in a wheelchair, and Knee was looking at his stitches with a sick kind of interest. House was running (a kind of quick hobble) after the pair.
"HEY! WAIT! Heh... Thanks." He nodded to the wheelchair guy. Then he turned his attention to Knee, who had folded his hands and was smiling in polite mockery up at him. "You. Now, I know you aren't exactly 'all right upstairs', but I'd just like to know what kind of sick impulse caused you to swallow a screwdriver." House held up the screwdriver in front of Knee's face and shook it.
Knee tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Oh yaaaaaaaah, now I remember!" He said suddenly, lifting a finger triumphantly.
House waited. And waited. And waited. And waited.
"Well, aren't you going to tell me?" he asked impatiently.
"Uhhhhhhh…" Knee replied, gently taking the screwdriver from House. "Do you know if this still works?" he asked.
"What? How would I—"
"LET'S TRY IT OUT THEN, JUST TO SEE!" he shrieked, and jammed it straight into House's eye, pulling the trigger.
House screamed, and blood poured out of his right eye. Knee pushed in harder, completely gouging it into oblivion. Then, just when House thought he could scream no more, Knee pulled the screwdriver out. It took pure willpower for House to open his right eye to see what he was going to do next. Knee was standing straight up with no visible problems, and was eyeing the screwdriver with a peculiar look on his face.
"You know, I always thought it was kind of funny how people never noticed it when I did these kinds of things," he said off-handedly.
The wheelchair man had run off and called the police. Most of the doctors were hiding behind desks and screaming and House could hear police sirens in the background.
"Yup, I'm never noticed. Never. Anyway, I decided to leave your right eye alone because I want you to see what I'm going to do to you later." Then he leaned in to House's ear a little more. "See you later, big boy." He whispered.
Then he jumped out a window.
Later…
House was lying in a hospital bed, busy being incredibly pissed. Little fucker… he thought. Damn little bastard.
It was at night. Two guards were watching over House's room to make sure Knee didn't attack him again. He hadn't been caught yet, apparently. This didn't bother House, though. He was a pretty confident guy. Unfortunately, he was also a jerk.
THUNK!
House looked up. He saw both of the guards fall to the ground. Then he saw two identical pools of blood form beneath them. House gulped. Sometimes it was hard to be confidant.
"Hello, House."
House gasped and looked up in horror as Knee rapped his mouth in a dirty cloth. "You are such a bastard," Knee said, "That Senior Diablo is probably going to have a field day when you get down there."
House tried to get up and run off, but Knee had already handcuffed him to the bed. "Remember these?" He asked, jingling the cuffs. Then Knee got up and walked over to a coat hanger and picked up House's coat. "Well House, I'm afraid it's going to be me who is doing the surgery today." Then he took out a lethal looking scalpel and grinned.
House couldn't watch. He squeezed his only good eye shut right before the scalpel hit his skin. He felt the cold knife slither down his skin, and the blood poor down him. It was excruciating. Then he felt Knee's hands dive into his body and search around. In his pain, House could make out a few phrases, like "Oh, that's defiantly going to have to go." and "What is that?!"
"Why is your stomach so empty?" Knee asked. Tears were running down House's face, he was in so much pain. "I think we need to fill it with something. How aboooooout… this?" House couldn't see what Knee pulled out. And personally, he didn't want to.
"Oops, took the pin out."
The last thing House heard was Knee's quick footsteps fade away in the distance.
Then he blew up.
A/N: Oh, you know that guy had it coming to him. I really don't like this chapter because it was so hard to do House, but it's kind of hard to have Nny in a hospital and not have House there, that's just mean. Especially because 98 percent of this story is just cameos.