Chapter 19
"What I Would Do For You …"
"NOOOooooo!!! …………"That sound! That God-awful scream!
It had come from me!
I froze, sitting straight up on that couch before I was fully awake, nerves jangling alarms through me like static electricity traveling the length of a lightning rod.
I banged my hand hard, and a different jolt shot up my arm. But I was on my feet and away, pulling off the Ace bandage, running down the hallway. The Ace was too tight … and my skin, way too cold … and there was nowhere to put it, so I slung it around my neck and it dangled there as I skidded to a halt at House's bedroom door.
Lisa Cuddy was standing there, alarmed, looking toward House, then looking back at me, the apparition from a nightmare that came bearing down upon her like some juggernaut with no brakes. I barreled around her and into the room, setting her aside firmly, and then turning to House, not even knowing what I'd expected.
He sat against his mountain of pillows, tilted a little too far to the right. His look was pasty and his eyes, deep blue holes in his hollow face. His eyes swam toward me, looked down at his blanket, looked across to the wall, then up to the ceiling. He could not seem to keep his focus on anything for more than a second …
I heard him breathe something to me that sounded like: "Are you all right?"
At least he could talk. My labored breathing calmed down a little bit. I looked over to Cuddy while answering him. "Yeah … bad dream. Did I wake you?"
"How'd you know I had a nightmare?" He asked in a ragged voice.
I was totally confused. I started toward him protectively. "No … I meant I had a nightmare … and I … well … I guess I yelled … and you're awake … so I thought …"
He frowned and turned to glare at me. This time he had no trouble holding the focus. "I shouted! I thought I woke you …"
Lisa Cuddy crossed the room behind me and sat down hard in the only chair. She didn't look alarmed anymore, only puzzled. "You both yelled!" She announced loudly, and we both looked at her. "The same word. At the same time." She rolled her eyes and lowered her head to her hands in an "I-give-up!" gesture. House and I looked at each other, then at her.
I walked the last few steps to his bed and sat down close to his feet. He watched me, but didn't comment. Again, we looked at Cuddy as she finally raised her head to throw cold blue glances between us.
"You both yelled 'No!'", she said. Focusing on House, she continued. "I didn't see what was happening with Wilson, but before you shouted, you were increasingly restless. And mumbling something I didn't quite get … something about not hitting Wilson …"
"Yeah … I know … I remember." House looked at me with a hangdog expression, something he'd always been oh-so-good at. "I … guess we need to talk." He seemed reluctant, but determined.
I nodded, feeling a little reluctant too, but knowing it was high time to either fish or cut bait. Both of us looked meaningfully at Cuddy, who, bless her, took the hint and made to rise immediately.
Her soft grin of complete understanding made a sweet portrait of her face as she rose from the chair and walked toward the doorway. She paused there and looked back, still smiling like a mother whose children were being bribed to kiss and make up. "I'll … just go do something useful, since it's one o'clock in the morning. Are you both okay?"
I nodded. I think Greg did too. Anyway, she was gone, and we heard her footsteps diminish down the hallway.
I slid off the bed and took her place in the chair at his side. He was shifting again, uncomfortably, against the pillows. His right hand was flat on the edge of the mattress, arm stiff, trying to settle himself into a better position. I rose again and walked over to him, grasping both his upper arms in my hands and lifting his body to the left and back. In a moment he was straightened again. I took his hands and placed them in his lap, squeezed the right one lightly and let go. He was now propped with his back and head against the pillows. His skin looked almost the same color as the sheets.
Ahhh … House …I would have backed off, but I needed to check the leg. I raised a corner of the blanket on the pretense of straightening things, but he clasped my wrist firmly, staying it, and causing me to hiss through my teeth.
He let go quickly. "Sorry … but I can read your mind …"
"May I do a quick check on your leg?" I said. "Please."
He reconsidered for a moment, then, to my great surprise, began to undo the strings on the old scrubs to allow me access. He pulled them down over pale, white skin until the thigh was naked before me. I marveled at the trust he had managed to summon in order to let me do that.
"Punctures still bothering you?" I asked him, knowing instinctively which territory I was allowed to cover, and which not. The tiny bruises were slowly fading, but the muscle was so tight it almost felt knotted. I did not press down on his skin with any more than minimum pressure, but he still winced when I touched the rise of the big quadriceps muscle.
"A little," he said, finally. "Nothing I can't live with. It's getting ready to go into spasm. That's why it's so tight. Nothin' to worry about … I'm getting used to it."
I looked at him as his face began to distort with the beginnings of the spasm, and pulled up the pant leg quickly so I could rearrange his pillows yet again in order for him to ride it out. It was going to be a nasty one. "You shouldn't have to get used to it," I told him. "We need to talk about that too. You're in pain … we treat the pain! You know as well as I do, we monitor your doses … and allowing the pain to go untreated could cause problems with the right leg too. Tell you what … the muscle needs another twenty-four hours to recover from the trauma of the EMG, right?"
I saw him nod cautiously as his pain began to accelerate, and I knew he was wondering at the same time, how it was he knew he was going to lose an argument we hadn't even begun yet.
He was pressing back against the pillows, hurting badly. The muscle in his left leg was beginning to disturb the blanket, his pain increasing. "Here's the deal." I told him. "Let us use the morphine for another day … lowest possible doses … and I'll give you a fair chance to ride out the spasm first. But I won't watch you suffer! Got it?"
He nodded, a choppy thrust of his head. "Guess that's almost fair …ahhhh … but I want it on record that I … OW! … God!"
He couldn't help it. His body curled protectively around the left leg, and even through his haze of agony, he could still appreciate the irony of the lousy timing.
I was biting my lip, watching silently, my hand splayed on the middle of his back. In his pain, he probably wouldn't even feel it. Just as I was deciding to give him the morphine at that moment and deal with the consequences later, he began to rock with agony beneath my hand. I hear him gasp his equivalent of "uncle" between clenched teeth.
"Can't … take … it …"
I backed away from him and went for the syringe, got it ready to inject into the port. "It's okay!" I said to him quickly. I pushed the medication with dispatch. "We'll soon know what's causing this, and we'll treat it. Things will get straightened out, you'll see. You made the right decision."
I felt as though I were talking to a small child. I disposed of the syringe and sat down on the edge of the bed close by his side. I leaned over his hunched shoulders and rubbed his back lightly with one hand.
As he slowly began to relax and sit up again, I encircled his skinny wrist with my fingers, and silently counted the rise and fall of his chest. He leaned back again into the pillows, and I could see him trying to straighten out the leg beneath the blanket. I helped him move it to a tolerable position on its pillow and ran my fingers gently along his shin bone and down onto the calf. The muscles relaxed by degrees. If the lower ones were letting go, then the upper ones were easing off also. I did not, however, touch his thigh.
We sat quietly for long minutes. I looked at his face, noncommittal. He looked at mine in the same way. The way friends sometimes look at each other when understanding goes far beyond mere words.
He finally spoke, and I was very glad I'd waited him out. "Guess I'm ready to have that talk now. You?"
I nodded. "Yeah." Now that the crisis was over, I could feel tightness and throbbing in my injured wrist. Somehow I sensed it had been that way for awhile … I had just been too busy to notice it. Now it was getting even with a vengeance. I held it up and looked at it. My fingers were bent toward the palm. It hurt to move them.
Greg saw me poking at it. "Shouldn't have taken the Ace off," he said. "Too soon. Makes a lousy necktie. I like your green one better …"
I looked down at myself. The Ace was still dangling around my neck like a dead snake. "I forgot," I said. "It was too tight. I'm gonna grab some ibuprofen and maybe another ice pack. Be right back."
"Can I help?"
I looked across at him, half stunned. He wanted to do for me, and I was touched beyond measure. I held my hand out toward him and he examined the discoloration and small patch of swelling with fingers as gentle as a woman's. He was actually tickling me, and I wanted to laugh out loud and scratch at it, but held as still as I could, lest like a butterfly in a meadow, one false move and it would fly away forever.
He turned my hand over and straightened the fingers part way. It hurt, but not as much as I thought it would. He placed my hand on the bed beside him and waggled his own fingers in the direction of the dilapidated Ace. I pulled it away from my neck and handed it over. He took a minute to roll it, smooth out some of the creases, then picked up my hand again.
I sat very still and watched him. It was like a revelation. He actually had a bedside manner. A wonderful one. I wondered if it was due to the effects of the morphine.
Probably!
When he finished his sloppy rewrap job and handed my arm back, I flexed the fingers and took note that it was neither too loose nor too tight. I felt good. Almost normal. The throb had diminished and I was at a loss.
When I looked at him and he took the chance and looked back in return, his demeanor had turned clumsy again, and I saw him shrug slightly. The welcome lapse into an alternate universe was over, and the Greg House I knew and loved … and would often like to slap silly … had returned. "Never was too good at that kind of stuff," he said dismissively, indicating the bandage, "but I think it'll be okay for awhile."
"It's better than okay. It feels much better. Thanks." The big lump in my throat made further speech impossible.
I left him sitting there and went out to get an ice bag before the old waterworks started up again. I didn't need this. Not now.
In the kitchen, Cuddy was cleaning out one of the kitchen cabinets. Food stuffs and gadgets were piled in a gaggle all around her. "Old family tradition," she said as I approached. "My mother used to do this when I was little. If she couldn't sleep, she cleaned kitchen cabinets. Said she did her best stuff at 2:00 a.m."
I grinned at her and shook my head; reached up to open the freezer door … with my bad hand. Cuddy saw the bandage. "You're wrapped again! Whaat?? Do it with your teeth?"
I looked down at the unique wrap job and smiled in agreement. "It was House. He saw me poking at it and offered to rewrap it for me. Didn't want it to be too tight this time."
Cuddy shook her head, as surprised as I was. "Well," she said, "It won't win any awards for neatness … but it's providing adequate support. Let's just leave the artist's work undisturbed, shall we?"
"Yeah. Thanks. Pretty amazing, huh?"
"You two are both pretty amazing!" Cuddy told me. "I heard just a few snatches of you talking him into using the morphine. Impressive! So now, would you like to tell me a little about those nightmares?"
I looked across at her and got ready to head back to the bedroom. "We were just getting ready to get to those. First, I guess I'd better take some ibuprofen … Dr. House's orders, y'know!"
Cuddy's chuckle was rather sexy, and low in her throat.
Just before she turned around and went back to her cabinet cleaning, she handed me the bottle …
Round Two … comin' up!
Oooo0oooO
114