Ch 27: An Outrageous Backlash
Wilson returned to his office to find his best friend still staring into space, eyes glazed and mouth slightly ajar. Something wasn't right; the oncologist felt it in his gut. "House?" he ventured. The diagnostician blanched at his name. "Are you ok?" House was most certainly not ok as he started to sway in his sitting position. Wilson barely caught him before he hit the floor. He turned his friend on his side in case he had an absent seizure and ran to his door, calling a nurse and Taub, who was nearby into the room.
"God, what's wrong with him?" Taub asked.
"I have no idea," Wilson panted as he helped them get House off the floor as a gurney was rolled into the office. The empty pill bottle fell out of House's pocket as they secured him and Wilson spotted the lost article as they wheeled him out. "Jesus," he whispered to himself, staring incredulously at the number on the label. He tucked the bottle into his pocket and sprinted out the door after his friend and the entourage who were gathered around him. "He needs to have his stomach pumped right now!" he ordered and the small group made for the O.R.
Wilson couldn't bring himself to follow them, knowing that if something happened to House he wouldn't be able to bear it and seeing something happen would only be worse. He settled for making his way toward the stairs, hell bent on showing Cuddy just what her stupidity and heartlessness had cost her…had cost House. She was once again on the phone when he burst in, red in the face and ready to commit murder on his best friend's behalf.
"Let me call you back," Cuddy told the person on the other line. "I know it's inconvenient, but we're having a bit of a crisis at the moment and I've just gotten word that my help is needed. "Right…well the meeting is still on for tomorrow then. Good." She hung up and Wilson threw the empty Vicodin bottle onto her desk. "What the hell is going on, Wilson?" she demanded picking up the bottle. Wilson could see her heart plummeting in her chest.
"He did that, while I was talking to you…he's having his stomach pumped as we speak." Wilson's tone was cold and clipped, not wanting her to see just how much this was affecting him.
"Oh, God," the Dean of Medicine murmured. "Because of me?"
"Because you broke his heart," Wilson told her, his voice now cracking under the pressure on him. "He loved you, Cuddy, and you rejected him…so he's trying to reject everything else. I knew this would happen someday…someone would get to him then leave him. I didn't expect it to be you, though. You know him. You can't expect him to change completely overnight! He can't change who he is!!!"
"Oh, GOD!" she sobbed. "I was just so mad…" She brushed past him and made a beeline for the Operating Room with Wilson on her tail. Wilson couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for her as she cried her eyes out, watching House being worked on by a strangely calm Chase.
"You probably can't go back," Wilson pointed out. "And he probably can't forgive you. You pushed him to the edge, and then harassed him until he jumped. He let you get close to him, now that whole part of him is gone."
"I know," she wept. "I'm so sorry…I want him back!" She kept murmuring apologies and crying as the procedure went on. When House was taken to recovery, both Wilson and Cuddy went inside to watch him. He didn't wake up, however and this brought on more concerns. "Do you think he has brain damage?" Wilson asked Chase after nearly 6 hours without response.
"He's sustaining life on his own. I can only assume he's fine. There might be some damage that's causing him to stay out, though. Perhaps if you still had Foreman we could get to the bottom of this." Wilson's opinion of Chase dropped a little after that and he went back to watching House, Cuddy still weeping at his side.
"There's no way to know how long he'll be in this state," the residential neurologist told Wilson and Cuddy as they sat around his bed in his private room. "It could be a few days, a few weeks, years…forever. You have to be prepared for that possibility."
Cuddy was still sniffling beside House so Wilson was left to talk to the doctors. He noted the grim look on the neurologist's face as he gave the possibilities. It was far from comforting to hear those words. It had been nearly 48 hours with no signs of House waking up. Wilson only left the room to use the bathroom and Cuddy was the same, crooning things to him and hoping that he could hear them. Hoping to wake him from his deep sleep.