A week since Shepherd had been hired--along with Cuddy's funeral.
House was holding himself together--in alternate ways, resorting to--certain methods to relieve his pain.
4:25 p.m.
He was washing his arms--or what it had appeared to be, in the men's restroom on his floor. The water looked dirty as it rolled off his arm and into the sink--but a rusty water look.
After cleaning his entire arm, he grabbed his pocket knife laying on the counter, retracted the blade and slid it into his pocket. After drying his left arm, he rolled down the sleeve, hiding away the red marks--more slits near the wrist than the forearm and up.
After he did so, he removed his cane, that had been slid within the handle, preventing admittance. Slowly getting outside, he removed the sign on the door that said in bold, "Temporarily out of Service," crumpled it up and tossed it across the hall into the trash, and limped back to his office. After three steps, Amber hand appeared.
"Enjoy your dosage?" she asked cheerfully.
"No."
"Aw. Is little Greg upset that big Shepherd didn't let him do the brain biopsy?" she teased.
"That, and because of it, he's going to let her die." he spoke it cold, as he turned into his inner office, and took a seat in his chair.
"You could always go behind his back. I mean, he's totally peeved at you for--well everything you've done in the past week and a half or so."
"Saving patients?" he defended with a sigh.
"The way you did it I guess? Going behind his back with all those other procedures."
"It was irrelevant to him. He didn't need to know, therefore, don't need to tell him."
"True. I mean, that's how it would go with Cuddy and she'd be okay with it in the end, because you'd usually prove that it needed it to be done. She understood that process, but Shepherd doesn't really get the concept."
"Don't remind me about the former."
"Well then. Shall we talk about your new drug?
"It's a method. Not a drug."
"Well, you've gotten addicted to it. And, it's not illegal, but it's morally wrong, so I guess technically you're breaking a rule somehow. And you enjoy it, so it's a drug."
"I haven't gotten addicted. I've done it, three times in the past week. It's not breaking any rules, and I don't enjoy it. It's like when a kid doesn't want to go to sleep. They might not like it, but it benefits them anyway. That which, I'm not getting enough of either."
"Right. So your--cutting yourself, a pain, relieves your other pain--emotional. Cuddy."
"Don't."
"You don't have a choice. You can't escape these feelings. Feelings of--guilt? You feel you're trapped with them, and they're suffocating you."
"Do you want me to kill myself?"
"Why would I want to kill us?"
"Because that's the only rational explanation I've come to that clearly explains why you're here." House stopped abruptly, and saw his team coming. He tried to screen her out once they came in, and informed him about the patient.
"She's getting worse." Foreman proclaimed as they all crowded in the room.
"We need that biopsy. Now."
"You're actually agreeing with me?" House asked.
"Well--yeah."
"She's obviously dying, if he's resorting to agree with you," Taub interjected. House just jerked his head to the left, still looking directly at Foreman, before giving directions.
"Do it."
"I thought Shepherd didn't sign off?" Thirteen asked.
"Who cares. It's Shepherd, and it's a brain biopsy."
"You want to give him another reason to be pissed with you?" Foreman lectured.
"Weren't you just agreeing with me?"
"I agreed we need a brain biopsy. I never agreed anything about doing it behind his back."
"So, he's the new boss, and we're testing him out. You guys are--playing it safe. We need to see how far we can push him."
"And if we push him too far?"
"I'll deal with that. Just--go get the biopsy. Soon as you find something--find me. Don't hesitate." They all flooded out of there, a little hesitant at first, but they left. Leaving him to wallow in self pity.
Several minutes later - 5:00 p.m.
"I want to kill you." Amber spoke proudly.
"Thanks for finally admitting it," he said with his head flat on his desk.
"Not because, I want to. But because you, want to. It's actually kind of the same thing if you, really, think about it."
"I-don't-want-to-kill-myself." he enunciated.
"Believe what you want." Suddenly, Wilson knocked on House's door, slightly upset--or more.
"You idiot. You did the biopsy anyway?" his voice raised as he walked into the room.
"I had to." he said meekly.
"Shepherd's looking for you. He wants your ass in his office. He called me, because apparently you haven't been answering his calls."
"You really expect me, to relinquish myself to him?"
"No. I expect you to be protective of your ass. And slack a little less. He isn't Cuddy, House. You can't win him over. He will crush you because--"
"I do the right thing? If I didn't make Foreman do the biopsy, she would be dead."
"House--he stopped the biopsy as soon as it was charted. He gave his spiel to Foreman and Taub for listening to you. He threatened to fire them. And--the girl died. She went tachycardic, and she died right there." his voice broke off a little as he ended the sentence. House's eyes had turned into a glare, and he shot up from his desk walking out.
"What's that--is that blood on your sleeve?" before he could get his answer, House was already out of the room and making his way down to Shepherd's office. Furious, he threw the doors open to his office.
"You son of a bitch! You killed my patient!"
"No, you killed your patient! If you had just gone with another alternative, she would be alive."
"The biopsy was the only alternative left! If we had done the biopsy--"
"You would've risked brain damage, and possibly cripple her for life!"
"Would you rather her dead than brain damaged? And don't you pull the cripple card with me. Out of all cards to set down, you've got yourself empty-handed."
"House! You have been impulsive on both cases you've had for the past two weeks. Last week, I tolerated it, because I figured, you were a little upset about a new boss and the funeral and such. But this week? You've pushed me, way beyond you can handle."
"I can handle you perfectly. I've been pushing you for a reason. I need you to know, how I work things, and how far I really need to push them. My only obligation I have to this hospital is to save the lives that I've been given. I'm not obligated to promise you that I won't lie to you, that I won't steal from the cookie jar when you're not looking. I may be breaking the rules, and I may be insubordinate, but that's the only way I can save a damn life in this hospital."
"Rules apply to everyone House! I'm sure that in the past, people have told you that you aren't special. You aren't set aside for anything. You have to follow every rule and protocol in his hospital."
"If I did that, do you know how many people would be dead? Rules are irrelevant when it comes to saving lives Shepherd! Some rules apply, and that's the matter of keeping them alive! If you don't understand that, I think you've chosen the wrong career path!"
"If you don't know how to follow rules House, I don't want you at my hospital."
"What are you saying."
"You're fired, House."
"You can't fire me--"
"I can. I just have. Finish what's left of your clinic duty this week, and you can leave Friday."
"You can't shut down my department--"
"I'm not. Dr. Foreman will be in charge of that."
"You can't--"
"You're fired, House. Get out of my office." House just looked at him with bloodshot eyes, as Amber crept up behind him, and rested her face less than an inch away from his ear.
"Now--are you sure, you don't want to kill yourself yet?"
