041. Shapes

Drug-Induced

House giggled as he lay on his back on the floor of his office and looked around. It was all so pretty, pretty, pretty. Pretty lights flashing and the floor kept swaying. That's why he was lying down; that and it made it easier to watch the ceiling ripple and the walls shimmy. He giggled again as line of can-can dancers high-stepped across the room and it didn't even occur to him to wonder why they all had Vogler's face. Not his body though, House shuddered at that idea; that would be scary.

"House?"

The voice sounded funny; kind of low and dopey as though someone had slowed down the tape. He giggled again and looked in the direction the slow motion voice had come from.

"You're Wilson-shaped," he slurred then he started giggling at the sound of his own voice.

"Jesus, House! What did you take?"

"I took your lunch," House said brightly then he frowned. "Why would I do that?"

"What? No! I'm not talking about that. House, what did you take?"

House had been staring at the walls, which had chosen that moment to start rippling through various shades of blue, and he jerked his head back towards the Wilson-shape that was looming over him.

"Angry Wilson-shape," he said sagely.

"I'm not angry. I'm worried."

House mentally relabelled the shape in front of him to 'Worried Wilson-shape' then stared in fascination as the proverbial pink elephant ambled through the room, trumpeting once before disappearing out onto the balcony.

"It wasn't wearing a tutu," he said sadly.

"What?"

The worried Wilson-shape's voice sounded almost scared but before House could comment on that his concentration was scattered by the feel of hands. They pressed into his neck and rested on his forehead and they felt warm and soft and oddly blanketing.

"Dammit, you're burning up. Foreman! Get in here!"

House winced at the sudden shout. "Noisy," he slurred. "Noisy, noisy, noisy, noisy."

A different, darker shape suddenly appeared and he squinted up at it.

"Ooh, Foreman-shaped," he said as the two shapes spoke over his head. Two more shapes suddenly appeared in his vision and he stared at them in fascination.

"More shapes," he slurred. "A Cameron-shape and a Chase-shape."

"What are you seeing?"

His head lolled over towards the Foreman-shape at his side and he smiled goofily. "Pretty shapes."

"His temperature's up, his pupils are dilated, his heart rate's increased and he's seeing things. He's taken something."

The words flowed from the Foreman-shape's mouth in large balloons and House watched them with fascination. Then the last set of words floated over the top of him and he frowned.

"I took his lunch," he said sadly. "I don't know why I did that." He frowned thoughtfully. "Thirsty. Mouth dry. Or is that the other way around?"

The Wilson-shape suddenly swore and House giggled again.

"Naughty, naughty," he said, waving a finger wildly in the air.

His hand was caught and he marvelled at the warmth of the hands around his own until he was jolted by a small shake.

"Wavy," he slurred as the ceiling and the four shapes around him rippled.

"I think it's acute anticholinergic syndrome. They mix anticholinergics with hydrocodone to try and discourage abuse."

House frowned as the words floated over his head; he was fairly he sure he should understand what that meant.

"House? How many Vicodin did you take today?"

The words had come from the Wilson-shape but for a moment he couldn't make any sense of them. Then the walls shifted colour and he frowned.

"Two," he said slowly, watching as the word bubbled out of his mouth and floated towards the ceiling. He giggled when the word hit the ceiling and popped.

"That wouldn't be enough, would it?"

"I don't know but I don't think we're going to get any sense out of him right now."

"What should we do?"

"Let it run its course. He's not hurting anyone and the drug will eventually work it's way out of his system."

"Do you want me to test his Vicodin? The batch may be tainted in which case we'll have to alert the pharmacy and Dr Cuddy."

"Yes, do it. Cameron, could you please close the blinds? I'll stay with him."

House hummed happily to himself as three of the shapes moved away, leaving just the Wilson-shape. House's head lolled over and he stared at the Wilson-shape, trying to determine if it looked like it did before.

"Worried Wilson-shape," he slurred.

"Yes."

"Pretty Wilson-shape."

"I…I…you're stoned out of your mind."

"Still pretty," House slurred with a rather loopy smile.

House heard a sigh then the Wilson-shape said very softly, "Thank you."

House squinted at the Wilson-shape for a moment then smiled that goofy smile again.

"Love Wilson-shape."

There was a sharp gasp from beside him.

"Now I know you're stoned."

House felt vaguely hurt by that and he pouted as best as he could, considering he'd suddenly forgotten how to work his lips.

"Tired," he slurred, closing his eyes.

He heard another sigh from beside him and then one of those hands he really liked caressed his hair.

"Go to sleep," the Wilson-shape said in a tone of voice he was completely unable to decipher.

He decided that was a good idea and slowly slid into oblivion.

When he slowly surfaced again, the first thing that hit him was that his head was aching.

"Shit," he mumbled through a tortuously dry mouth, keeping his eyes firmly closed.

"House?"

He recognised Wilson's voice and turned his head slightly towards it.

"Urgh," was all he could manage this time and he tried, unsuccessfully, to lick his lips.

"Hang on a minute," Wilson said then there was an ice chip being held at his lips.

He sucked the ice chip into his mouth and let it melt, sighing with relief as the moisture seemed to be absorbed almost immediately. They repeated this a few more times until House shook his head very delicately.

"How are you feeling?" Wilson asked and House felt a hand rest on his shoulder.

"Head hurts," House said in something perilously close to a whine.

He felt the hand squeeze gently for a moment then disappear.

"I'll get you something for that," Wilson said quietly.

House heard soft footsteps move away from the bed and the sound of a door opening and closing. He lay in the bed with his eyes closed and tried to remember what had happened through the thumping in his head. He had the vaguest impressions of colours and shapes swirling around his office and a pink elephant kept popping up as well, much to his utter bafflement.

He heard the door open again and the footsteps return to his side then there was some muffled noises from somewhere nearby. Within minutes he felt the thumping pain in his head recede and he gingerly opened his eyes.

Wilson was sitting in the chair next to the bed and watching him with unalloyed concern though he could see a myriad of other emotions flitting through his friend's eyes.

"What happened?" House murmured.

"You don't remember?" Wilson said with surprise and what House thought was hurt, though he couldn't figure out just yet why the hurt was there.

"No," House replied, his brow furrowed with thought. "I remember…colours…and shapes but nothing specific."

He definitely saw the hurt flicker over Wilson's face when he said that then it was overtaken by resignation.

"You had acute anticholinergic syndrome," Wilson explained with a small sigh. "Foreman tested your Vicodin. It had been tainted, probably in the manufacturing process. The anticholinergic level was through the roof. Thankfully it was only a single batch affected but there have been cases all over the country. No fatalities but a few people have been hurt."

Wilson's expression kept telling House he'd missed something significant but House couldn't for the life of him work out what so he dismissed it to puzzle over later.

"So what did I do?" he asked with his own bout of resignation. "And how long are the ducklings going to hold it over me?"

Wilson smiled weakly, confirming House's suspicions. "You didn't do anything really. You just lay down on the floor behind your desk and giggled a lot. You kept saying things about shapes and you seemed rather upset that you'd taken my lunch."

House snickered. "I was?"

Wilson's smile became a little more genuine. "You didn't know why you'd done it."

"Because it was better than the crap they serve in the cafeteria," House said scornfully. "So, when can I get out of here?"

"I want you to stay another night just in case," Wilson said firmly. "You can go home tomorrow."

House grumbled and scowled then reluctantly gave in; the extra time might just give him the opportunity he needed to figure out why Wilson was acting so hurt. Maybe his ducklings could tell him.