006. Patient

Listen

Wilson stood at the end of the bed in ICU, listening to the beeping of the machines and the hissing of the ventilator that was keeping House alive and staring down at the still form on the bed. He'd received a phone call from Princeton-Plainsboro at 11pm telling him that House had been brought in unconscious and badly hurt. He'd been named as House's emergency contact and medical proxy and he was needed to make decisions regarding treatment.

He'd arrived at the hospital to find that House had been clipped by a drunk driver while riding his motorbike. He had internal injuries and broken bones and needed immediate surgery. Several of the broken bones were in his legs; in particular his right femur had been broken in two places. The surgeons had wanted to know whether it was worth saving the leg considering the pre-existing damage. Wilson had swallowed the urge to yell at them and had simply told them to save the leg at all costs.

The surgery had been dicey and House's heart had stopped beating halfway through. The surgeons had managed to get it started again but now House lay here in the ICU, hooked up to far too many machines and with little idea of when or even if he would wake again.

"You should get some rest. You worked all day yesterday and you've been here all night."

Lisa Cuddy's oddly gentle voice startled him and he turned to see her standing in the doorway to the ICU.

"No," he said quietly. "No, I should stay."

Cuddy ventured over and stood next to him. She looked down at the man who was simultaneously the most annoying man she had ever known and the hospital's prized possession.

"He'll be fine. He's stubborn," she said with a certainty she wasn't sure she felt. "He's the most stubborn, pig-headed man I know."

Wilson didn't trust himself to speak and just nodded. Cuddy laid a hand on his shoulder briefly then turned and walked out of the room. Wilson didn't watch her go.

"Dr Wilson?"

He turned his head to see one of the ICU nurses.

"I'm not leaving," he said firmly.

The nurse looked at him with a practised eye then nodded. "You need some sleep, Dr Wilson," she said as she left.

Wilson gave a mirthless snort then walked around to sit next to the bed. He reached out and took House's limp hand in his own, his thumb gently caressing the back in a repetitive motion. With his other hand he reached out and gently brushed the bandage on House's forehead.

"I told you that damn bike was dangerous," he muttered, his voice cracking and wavering.

He fell into silence again as he continued to stroke House's hand and monitor the machines. About an hour later he was interrupted by the nurse who had come in before.

"Dr Wilson?" she said quietly. "There are some people outside who'd like to speak to you."

"Who?" Wilson asked without taking his eyes away from his friend.

"Mrs Warner, Drs Chase, Cameron and Foreman," the nurse replied.

Wilson took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He placed House's hand back onto the bed and stood, brushing one hand gently over the unconscious man's hair. He then walked out of the room with a nod to the nurse.

"James, what happened?" Stacy asked the moment he emerged.

"He was out on that stupid bike and a drunk driver clipped him," Wilson said with distraught bitterness.

Stacy closed her eyes and covered her mouth with one hand.

"How bad?" Chase asked sombrely.

"Internal injuries, broken bones," Wilson replied. "The surgery went well despite him arresting in the middle of it. He's on a ventilator right now but they're hoping to take him off that later today when he's stronger." He paused. "Thank god he was wearing a helmet or it would have been far worse."

Tears welled in Cameron's eyes and Chase laid a hand on her shoulder. Foreman stared down at his shoes.

"I'm going back in," Wilson said into the silence. "I don't want him to be alone."

With that he turned on his heel and headed for the door into the ICU.

"You'll let us know when anything happens?" Stacy asked as he opened the door.

Wilson paused and nodded. "Of course."

He returned to his seat next to House's bed and watched as the nurse finished taking his vitals. She then gave him a solemn smile and left him alone. He took House's hand again.

"You made Cameron cry, you know," he murmured with something akin to grim humour. "At least it's for a good reason. I think there might be something going on or about to go on between her and Chase. Of course, I could be wrong." He paused and took a deep, shuddering breath. "Dammit, Greg. Don't do this to me. You were supposed to wake up over two hours ago."

He tightened his grip on House's hand and ran his free hand through his hair.

"I'd yell at you about that damn bike but I know you won't listen to me," he continued softly. "When do you ever listen to me?"

He was about to continue when the hand in his twitched slightly.

"Greg?" he said urgently, coming to his feet and leaning forward to look at his friend's face. The hand twitched again. "Greg, can you open your eyes?"

House's fingers curled slightly around his then his eyes fluttered slowly, almost reluctantly open. Wilson smiled into the dull blue eyes.

"Don't try and talk, Greg," he said gently. "You're on a ventilator. They're going to take that out soon."

House's hand squeezed his more firmly this time.

"I'm going to go and get the nurse," Wilson said, his smile widening. "I'll be back in a minute."

He moved to go but found his hand gripped tightly. He looked back at House and saw the worry and growing panic in his eyes.

"I won't be long," Wilson said reassuringly then frowned as House made a tiny movement of his head and his other hand twitched in the direction of his leg.

"Your leg's still there," he said with sudden understanding. "Your femur was broken in two places. They've pinned it and you're pretty doped up. The epidural they gave you is probably also still working. That's why you can't feel much. You know I wouldn't let them take your leg."

House closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them Wilson saw the relief. He gave House's hand a squeeze.

"Let me get the nurse and we can get that tube out of your throat," Wilson said almost roguishly. "I'm dying hear those dulcet tones of yours again."

This time House let him go, the barest of smiles flitting across his face, and Wilson hurried out to find the nurse. House's surgeon was paged and within half an hour the ventilator had been removed and the surgeon pronounced himself pleased with House's progress. Once he and the nurse had left, Wilson sat down next to the bed again.

"What happened?" House rasped and Wilson reached for the cup of ice chips the nurse had left.

House grimaced at the solicitude but rather wearily let Wilson place a few of the chips in his mouth.

"You got hit by a drunk driver," Wilson said in reply to House's question as he placed the cup back down on the table. "You don't remember?"

House frowned in thought then shook his head. "No."

Wilson nodded, worry in his eyes. "I suppose that's not much of a surprise." He shifted in his chair and sighed. "Get some sleep, Greg. You need it."

"So do you," House rasped, his eyes fixed on Wilson's face.

Wilson smiled wryly. "I know but I can last a little longer. Go to sleep."

House scowled but sleep was already dragging him down whether he liked it or not. He forced his eyes open for a moment longer and groped for Wilson's hand, holding it tightly when he found it.

"Always listen to you," he murmured as his eyes started to slip closed again. "Only one worth listening to. 'S why I trust you. 'S why I care."

The last was slurred but still understandable.

Wilson bit his lip as House slept and tears welled in his eyes. House would never say something like that lightly and for the first time he realised that maybe this friendship wasn't as screwed up as he'd once thought.