Thanks for the interest, everyone! And for all the comments. I enjoyed every one of them. Thank you!!
House's eyes met Cuddy's. She already had her oxygen mask on. If this was it, he wanted to be sure to have one last look. Turning from her, House reached for his oxygen mask and put it on. The guy next to House was looking around wildly.
Frowning and rolling his eyes, House reached for the other oxygen mask and extended it to the man. The man took it with two shaking hands and placed it over his face. The plane harshly tilted toward the right, throwing the man against House. House was just thankful the man was on the side with his good leg.
As the shaking of the plane increased and the intensity of a high pitched whirring sound increased, a suitcase slammed hard into House's right thigh. House let out a yelp and a burning pain spread through his thigh before making its way up his chest and to his brain.
House shut his eyes against the blinding light that crossed his eyes due to the pain as he doubled over. The man next to him was chanting the 'Hail Mary' in a monotone and House was certain he was on his way to Hell.
He wasn't going to black out, House vowed to himself. When the plane crashed, there was an explosion that shook his entire body and made his insides come up out of him and into the aisle. Everything was too loud for a moment and then the noise tapered off and it was just quiet. Too quiet.
House looked around as smoke began to fill the plane. The man next to him was stirring, scrambling to take off his safety belt. House undid his own belt, aware that his thigh was throbbing in so much pain, he could very well pass out.
Before attempting to stand and find a way out, House swallowed a few Vicodin. His hearing now resembled a mumbled bubbling, much to the same effect of being in a fishbowl. House forced himself to stand to his feet. His cane was gone, but House had other thoughts on his mind.
His first priority was to get out. There was a patch of light sifting through the cloud of smoke forming just ahead. That was his goal. However, once House was perched in the aisle, clutching onto the seats for dear life, he looked toward the back of the plane, scanning for movement, scanning for her.
"Hey!" the man shouted at House as he waited to get into the aisle.
House turned toward the man, hearing the vocal projection, but unsure as to what was said. He realized he needed to get moving. House began toward the back of the plane, heading into the smoke and the mess.
"Hey!" the man repeated and grabbed House's arm.
The man gave a tug, trying to pull House toward the front of the plane and the way out. House struggled against him, needing to know if she was dead or alive.
An explosion sounded near the front right side of the plane, causing low vibrations. House and the man looked toward the sound to see flames licking up the wall and toward the ceiling. A dark cloud of black smoke started.
House began for the back of the plane again, but the man grabbed House roughly and shoved him up the aisle. House nearly collapsed from putting too much pressure on his thigh. The man realized House's thigh was causing a problem, so he stepped closer behind House and reached an arm around him to help keep his weight up.
Once they reached the thicker smoke, House pulled his tee shirt over the lower half of his face. The man caught on and mirrored House. Both men squinted as they further progressed to the emergency exit on the side of the plane.
House stepped out first, almost falling due to his thigh. He blinked against the sunlight and breathed in the fresh air. The man followed him out and the two stood a moment, scanning the dead bodies, pieces of wreckage, and other damaged items. House was looking for her.
A strong jawed man with brown hair and dark eyes hurriedly made his way toward House and the man House had been sitting next to. The approaching figure had blood staining the front of his shirt and he was masked with patches of dirt. There was a large cut across his forehead, but it wasn't actively bleeding.
"Hey, you okay?" the brown haired man asked both of them.
House was glad he could read lips because hearing was still difficult for him. He gave a nod as did the man beside him.
"We got a bleeder over there," the man pointed to a group of people huddled together near the edge of the woods. "And a few people are also hurt, but nothing too serious." The man forced a smile on his face. "Either of you happen to be a doctor?"
"I am," House spoke, but his own words sounded strange to his ears. He wondered if he even said it loud enough.
The brown haired man turned and looked at House, unsure if he should take him seriously. House took a step and almost fell due to his thigh. Both men reached for him and helped him to remain standing. House let out a grunt, his thigh making his eyes tear up.
"We got you," the man who approached them spoke. "My name is Dave."
"Greg," House offered, placing more of his weight on Dave.
"And I'm Bill," the man House had been sitting next to added in, but House could only tell that his name ended in 'ill.'
Dave began to lead the way towards the group of survivors. House used them to help him walk, every step he took more painful than the last. House scanned over each person in the group ahead of him and came to the quick realization that Cuddy was not one of them.
"How many other survivors are there?" Bill asked, his voice shaking slightly and his breathing labored.
"Including us, ten," Dave answered.
"Any females?" House hoped that his vision was off, or that maybe Cuddy was in the woods, or half hidden behind someone else.
"Two," Dave said. "One young woman in complete shock. And another woman who rescued a little boy on her way out of the plane."
House glanced at Dave. "They're not doctors?"
Dave shook his head. "No."
House was only able to hear the partial descriptions of the two females, but he clearly heard the answer to his last question. He felt a sinking feeling in his chest, fearing the worst.
"We lucked out getting you," Dave added on. "The bleeder's pretty bad."
The three reached the group of the other survivors who merely stared at them. There was a young man lying on the ground with a piece of metal sticking out of his shoulder as another piece stuck out of his chest. His forehead was glistening with sweat and two other men, both looking disheveled and bloody, knelt on either side of him, trying to soothe him.
A teenage boy with a mess of dark hair sat on a fallen tree along with a pale faced young woman. Another woman with long light brown hair sat away from the scene as she kept a boy with bright blonde hair from witnessing any more trauma.
"This is Mark," Dave pointed to one of the two men alongside of the bleeder, "and that's Jon. We can introduce each other later." Dave looked to House. "Can you do anything for this man?"
House shook his head, already determining the extent of the injuries. "He needs surgery. He's not going to live without it."
"Stay with him," Dave helped to seat House on the ground. "See if you can do anything. Jon, let's keep looking for any other survivors." Dave turned to Bill, whose face was reasonably paler. "Bill, you want to help?"
"Uh..." Bill's eyes were on the bleeder. He nodded and brought his gaze to Dave. "Sure."
House watched as Dave, Bill, and Jon began toward the bodies that surrounded the wreckage. His gaze shifted to the mess of the burning wreckage of the plane and he thought of Cuddy. House found himself feeling nauseated again as his guilt weighed down on him.
It was Cuddy's seat he had been in. He was alive and she was probably dead. House felt tears beginning to burn his eyes. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he looked down at the man bleeding out in front of him and forced Cuddy, and the fact that he left her on the plane, from his mind.