Sorry for slow updates, I don't have the time to write much during the week, so if I have any ideas I spurt them out on weekends. Ill try to update more often but here's another chapter.

Chapter 9

He woke up again about two hours later. His pain had magnified beyond belief, and lying down wasn't helping the cause any. He held onto his leg with one hand and pushed himself upright with the other. Cuddy had been kind enough to leave his cane by the bedside; he grabbed it standing with his full weight on the cane and only the toe of his foot touching to floor. He stood still for a moment gaining what shaky balance he had, before beginning to pace the room. He was trying his best to work the stiffness out of his leg so maybe the pain would ebb out a bit.

Cuddy was dozing lightly on the sofa where House had sat when she heard the repetitive soft thumping from the bedroom. She stirred for a moment, turned over and fell back to sleep. He was thankful for that he didn't need her to see him this way. He leaned heavily for a moment against the door jam of the kitchen. His mouth was really dry. He glanced once more back into the living room before turning the faucet on slightly to fill the glass without disturbing her.

Cuddy had always been a very light sleeper; she could have heard him filling the water glass a mile away. She decided to go see if there was any trouble going on. By the time she had gotten to the kitchen he was even paler than before and sweating like mad. His hands were turning white from gripping the counter to keep from vocalizing his pain. He let out a low moan as he used his free one hand to rub at the offending muscles. He was in too much pain to even know she was there. She didn't want to startle him so she approached slowly.

"House." He immediately jerked toward her, regretting it as it caused more pain and me hid grip the counter harder.

"Are you alright?" she whispered moving closer to his hunched frame.

"Do I look 'alright'?" he spluttered out through clenched teeth. She shook her head.

"Let me help you." She reached out to him touching his forearm.

"Get the fuck off of me." The words came out in a bitter wince as he pushed her off him. He couldn't bear the weight on his leg. He stumbled back and slid down the faces of the cabinets, his legs folding awkwardly underneath him. He tried as hard as he could to straighten himself out, but in his weakened state it was useless. He was forced to sit there while his leg shot pain through out his whole body, sapping what was left of his energy. Cuddy, despite what he wanted jumped in to help. She carefully repositioned his legs so they were straight in front of him; he pushed her away again and began to claw angrily at the muscle.

"Spasm?" she asked, his only response was a stiff nod

"Got any muscle relaxants lying around? They might help."

"Bathroom" he managed to say. She ran off to find them; digging through enough bottles to sink a battle ship she finally found a few diazepam. She popped one out of the bottle and handed it to him along with the long abandoned glass of water.

"House, take these. They'll make you feel better really fast" She watched as he swallowed the pills dry, refusing the water, and leaned his head back against the wooden doors. She sat do next to him ready to help him once the storm finally abated. Maybe he would be a bit easier to deal with when he was on a muscle relaxant. But there was no way she bas going to be able to lift his tall, muscular frame alone. She dialed a number into her cell phone and waited patiently as it rang over and over…