029. Knife

That's Not A Knife

The knife had looked surprisingly small in the hands of strung out patient in the exam room in the clinic but now that it was lodged in his chest House thought it felt remarkably large. He was lying on the floor of the exam room, one hand fluttering around the handle of the knife. The patient had run, scampering out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

Moving didn't seem to be an option right now. Every time he tried he could feel the knife grind against his ribs and the pain was excruciating even to him. Not to mention the fact that he was fairly sure the knife was imbedded in his lung and moving might make things considerably worse than they already were.

The odd thing was he couldn't seem to gather enough strength or breath or something to shout for help. And no one seemed to have noticed that his patient had left in a hurry and he hadn't emerged. For the first time he actually had a few regrets about his usual habits in the clinic since it was entirely possible the nurses had just assumed he'd aggravated the patient enough to make him walk out and was now enjoying a relaxing time in the exam room.

He let his head roll slowly to one side and saw that his cane was within reach. He grabbed the handle with surprisingly numb fingers and raised the cane enough to bash it against the cupboards. He kept going even as his hand became increasingly numb and it got harder and harder to hold the cane and keep moving it. He could feel the blood soaking into his shirt and pooling underneath him and a frightening greyness was creeping around the edges of his vision.

Finally one of the nurses got annoyed enough by the banging to investigate it and she opened the door with an exasperated look on her face.

"What are you…?"

Her irritated question trailed off into a horrified gasp and House let the cane fall from his hand. His head lolled over in time to see the nurse lean out of the door and yell something before she hurried over and knelt down next to him. He let himself drift as she quickly assessed him then scrambled over to the cupboards. He couldn't find the strength to answer her questions, just stared at her mutely until blackness slowly claimed him.

He woke to the sounds of beeping and the rustle of clothing coming from somewhere nearby. He contemplated going to back to sleep but finally prised his eyes open. The first thing he saw was white ceiling then he became aware he was hooked up to more machines than he really cared to think about; the tiny pull of various needles and sensors making him wince. He didn't feel any pain, nothing but fuzzy goodness, so he assumed at least one of those needles terminated in an IV drip.

He looked over in the direction the rustling sound had been coming from and saw that Wilson was sitting in the chair next to his bed, reading through files and making an occasional notation. He looked tired and worn with a hint of stubble around his jaw. His tie was missing and his shirt was crumpled and creased.

"Hey," House said or at least tried to. Instead of the word, all he managed was a rusty croak.

Wilson jumped and stared at him wildly for a moment before slamming the file closed and dropping to the floor at his side. He lurched to his feet and reached out to the glass of water on the nearby table.

"Here, easy," Wilson murmured as he positioned the straw at House's mouth.

House took a few sips then waved the glass away…or tried to; his hands didn't seem to want to obey him right at that moment.

"Hey," he tried again. This time the word came out, hoarse and rough but it was there.

Wilson all but dropped the glass back on the table, his hands shaking. He swallowed hard several times before managing his own, "Hey."

"How bad?" House rasped.

Wilson drew in a shuddering breath. "Pretty bad. Punctured lung. You almost bled out."

"Mngh," House grunted, his eyes fluttering as he fought the sleep that was trying to claim him again.

"You're going to be fine," Wilson said, his voice a little shaky.

"Mmm," House murmured as he surrendered, feeling a warm hand caress his forehead and run through his hair as he fell asleep.