A metallic clang.

Muffled shouts of agony and surprise.

Cries of, "Are you all right, Mister?" and the world was spinning.

"Fuck off." Said Gregory House to the world in general, and then slowly, it all went black.

"Somebody call the ambulance he's delusional from the blood loss!" Screamed the man whom Gregory had recently told to "F off." He was a simple Mormon man, unaccustomed to the dirty language of the jersey streets. He was in fact a tourist who had just recently flown in from Salt Lake City, and he was rather appalled to hear this type of language that he hadn't heard in Utah, except for the dirty streets of Roy. He most recently became a cop, so that he could stop this horrible 'crime' of swearing but he was let go the day after he had been hired. It's a long story, that involves oh, my, and some other word that's not heck. But this story isn't about him. I thought I should clarify who he was. Because he may be in the story later. And plus, he might of saved Gregory's life.

The man Gregory awoke once again. He groaned as the blood seeped from every inch of his body, and he felt his life source being sucked out of him. Every limb in his body cried out for vengeance as his joints felt enflamed with the fires of absolute agony.

"He's awake!" A man called out to the rest of the group that had gathered around Gregory's fallen body, and was gaping at it,

"What's happening." Everything was so confusing. Were was he? What had happened. Pain was shooting through his body, he gazed around feverishly at the scenes around him. A crowd had gathered now, and all of them seemed worried.

"You have been hit by a car..." His stomach began to churn. Hit by a car. Those words hit him at full force. The man continued. "But the ambulance is on the way. Everything will be okay."

"My wale..." Gregory had passed out once again.

"Somebody find his wallet!" He searched around his broken pieces of the motor cycle he had been riding, and finally found it. Every one gathered around him as he opened the wallet. The license plate was stuck behind a few old recites. He was in a hurry so he tore them out of the wallet, and ripped out the license.

"What is his name?" The man standing next to him had asked ever so quietly.

"Gregory House." He paused. "He's a doctor."

When the paramedics had arrived, House had been in and out of consciences. As he was laying upon the gravel, he noticed what they were trying to do. They were going to move his body, and he knew he couldn't stand the pain that pain that would bring him.

"Wait.. No.."

"Doctor House we need to move you."

"No you sun of a bitch!" His voice was barley loud enough to begin to understand. But they couldn't just leave him there. If he wanted any chance of living, he would have to come with them, and it had to be now. They ignored his screaming, and attempted to move him. He screamed in agonizing pain once again.

"Calm down Doctor. House. We need to... Shit!"

"What!" Yelled the remaining doctor in the front seat.

"He's Seizing!"

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