Beautiful Lies

Thanks for the reviews! This is a slightly shorter chapter, mainly because I wanted to have the pre-coma House for one more chapter. There is a long-awaited House/Wilson scene for those who want it. Enjoy!

Ch. 8

"Not investing any emotions, huh?" Amber said. "That worked."

House buried his head in his hands. His mind was in turmoil, and his leg was killing him. He had kissed Cuddy. Again. No, not Cuddy. The hallucination of her.

House had begun to believe, at the time when she kissed him, that she was really there. But now the more he thought about it, the more surreal and unlikely it seemed. The only time I could be sure I kissed her was…after she'd lost Joy. Last November.

In real life, nothing had changed since then. But these damn hallucinations had made him, House, normally so guarded and with fortified walls to rival that of Berlin, open and…vulnerable.

"Is it any wonder you got hurt?" Amber said softly. "You opened up and she laughed at you. Maybe the walls were there for a reason."

"Dr. House?" the psychiatrist said. "We're ready for you now."

"Ready?" House asked.

"For your induced coma."

House sucked in a breath. It was real? His spirits rose in spite of himself.

The psychiatrist wheeled a wheelchair in front of him. House stood up shakily, gritting his teeth, and settled himself in it. I can't wait til I get my cane back, he thought.

--

"What do you mean, I can't visit him?" Wilson said loudly. After what Cuddy said yesterday, he'd finally decided, like the sucker he was, that to visit House before he went into his coma was the right thing to do. He was prepared to see House looking deranged, depressed, who knows. He wasn't prepared to not see him at all.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Wilson," said the intendant. "Dr. House cannot distinguish between reality and hallucination right now, and too many visitors put a strain on him."

"But it's me!" Wilson said. "I'm his best friend!"

"Because you're close to him, Dr. Wilson," said the infuriatingly calm intendant. "It would be very easy for him to hallucinate you. And therefore your presence would disturb him when he can't decide."

"But Cuddy went," Wilson exclaimed, rather more childishly than he meant to.

"Yes, and it's already affecting him," the intendant said. "I'm sorry. You can see him after he wakes from the coma."

"I want to see Dr. Forbes." Wilson demanded.

The intendant sighed. "He's prepping Dr. House for the coma."

"Page him," Wilson said, irritated. He could be as persistent as House when he wanted to be.

--

House was wheeled down winding corridors until he got into a room, reminiscent of the ones at Princeton-Plainsboro. He was helped into the bed. "How long am I going to be comatose?" he asked.

"About a day," the psychiatrist told him, as nurses bustled around him, hooking him up to various machines for monitoring.

House looked at Amber, who was now standing solemn and pale beside the bed, and couldn't help a faint smile. No Amber. No pain. Bring it on!

The psychiatrist's pager went off. "Hold on," he told House, and left the room.

Hold on? House thought, annoyed. Something's more important than putting me in a coma? He screwed up his eyes, trying to block out the pain. Just a few more minutes…

The psychiatrist soon came back. "Can Dr. Wilson come in?" he asked House.

Wilson's here? "If he must," he said.

Wilson came in, looking sheepish. "Hi House."

"Hi Wilson," House waved in a falsely-cheery manner. "Look, I'm going to be just like Coma Guy."

"Your dream come true," Wilson's lips twitched. "I would keep you company when I eat lunch, but I don't think they allow it here."

"They don't allow it at Princeton-Plainsboro either," said House. "That's never stopped me before."

"Do you still see Amber?" Wilson asked wistfully.

House glanced at the said dead girlfriend, who was keeping silent. "Yeah." He looked at Wilson. "Trust me, you do not want to see her. She is an even bigger cutthroat bitch when she's a part of my subconscious."

"Yeah, well," Wilson sighed. "Anyone would be."

"How's your brother?" House asked.

"He's fine," Wilson said. "He's in the next wing."

"Funny how I'd end up here in the same place as him," House mused in a low voice.

"Yes, life is funny that way," Wilson agreed.

A corner of House's mouth lifted slightly. The two exchanged small, rueful smiles.

"Dr. Wilson, I'm going to have to ask you to leave now," the psychiatrist said, not unkindly.

Wilson nodded.

"Bye Wilson," House said.

"Bye House," Wilson said. "See you on the other side."

--

The psychiatrist injected something into House's IV tube. "One minute," he told him.

House settled back. This reminded him of the time when Stacy and Cuddy put him under, in order to cut the dead muscle out of his leg. Of course he'd been angry when he woke up. He'd stayed angry for all these years. When on occasion he managed to get past the iron shell she'd developed and made Cuddy cry, he'd feel a strange mixture of vindictiveness and guilt. But recently…maybe it was sometime around last November…the anger that had been familiar for so long had gone, had been replaced by…something else.

He fixed his eyes on Amber, and watched her fade.

Now I have a question for you, my readers! Do you want scenes of what happens in House's mind during the coma? Or is the white-room/flashbacks thing too overdone and I should just start with House waking up? Please review and tell me what you think.