Angel Revisited
His mouth was dry again. He hoped that by licking his lips, she'd remember from the last time and feed him ice chips. But none was forthcoming. He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly in the brightness before settling on closing them again.
He was waking up, each system coming online like a sleeping computer being asked to perform a command after a long dormancy. The first and most important system check was the external body. Sensations could tell a full story.
His head was intact. No pain. Some pressure behind his ears and under his nose. A cannula maybe. Greg managed to swallow past the dryness of his throat. No tubes. The upper body felt 'normal'; no pain, no heaviness. His arms did seem weak. One hand was immobilized beyond the wrist. Probably to keep it straight for the IV line. The other hand was being held.
He could feel her looking at him. Her eyes staring intently. The hope washing off her and lapping at him. He managed to stretch his dry lips ever so slightly and flex his hand a bit to let her know he was there.
Greg's internal body scan worked its way down from his waist. Something wasn't right. Something was missing. His brain couldn't process that just yet. Nevertheless, he started to panic. Maybe this wasn't reality. Maybe he was reliving a nightmare from his past.
The monitor showed an increase in heart rate and blood pressure. "House, calm down," she cooed. "You're going to be okay. You're safe."
This wasn't his angel speaking to him. She didn't offer him drink or the sweet peace of sleep or companionship. She didn't explain to him the lack of pain he should have was due to a nice cocktail of drugs. Of course an hallucination would say all those good things. It was his brain's own coping mechanism to protect him from the reality of the situation.
His brain had been able to process the lack of feeling of his right leg. It just didn't want him to know it was gone. Greg's eyes popped open with his mouth. He was gasping for air and screaming, yet no sound came. The pure emotional shock sent his mind reeling.
Cuddy hit the call button as she yelled at House to calm down. The ICU room was filled with a cacophony of monitors blaring and Cuddy shouting out orders until another dose of sedative was administered and everything went back to where it began.
Cindy raced back to the hospital after receiving Dr. Foreman's call. She kicked herself mentally for going home. She had showered and slept while he lay tortured. And when he awoke for the first time, she was not there to comfort him.
Dr. Foreman told her not to rush, that the sedation would last an hour or two. They wanted him to wake, to tell them what they couldn't discover by testing. Cindy vowed not to leave again until he was cognizant enough to understand what had happened and why they had done certain procedures.
Wilson pulled into the parking lot at the same time. They walked into the hospital together, but any stranger would have believed it coincidence. Wilson wanted to say something to Cindy, but the scowl on her face deterred him.
On the elevator ride up to ICU Cindy confronted him. "You haven't even said hello or of if you know anything more than I do. What IS your problem?"
They stepped from the elevator onto the second floor. "I don't know. Maybe I thought you might bite my head off if I said anything."
She pushed ahead of him to get through the door to Greg's room first, only to find that she and Wilson were the last ones to arrive.
Thirteen stood at the foot of the bed looking withdrawn and tired. With the latest medical dilemma and his recent panic over what she could only assume he suspected. She felt it necessary to wake him and explain the situation. They couldn't keep it from him forever. They'd have to eventually tell him they did a procedure they knew he didn't want, but it was the soundest option they had.
Dr. Hadley had forced Cuddy to tell her about the time he had woken up from the last unwanted surgery. His reaction had been similar and his acceptance and recovery hindered by the betrayal. The best thing for House to do was face his current situation head on. The last time he didn't have the support he needed. Now he had many people to lean on.
Cuddy raised the bed a few degrees higher so that he could see everyone around him. Chase removed his blankets so he could see himself. Wilson took his free hand. Cindy stood next to Remy. Taub stood by the door, ready for just about anything; including a hasty retreat.
"Wake him up," Thirteen instructed Foreman.
Within minutes House was stirring. The emotional agony of his last waking was still evident in his facial expressions. Foreman kept an eye on the monitors making sure his boss didn't reach a crisis. Wilson held his had between both of his own, an intense look of hope on his face. Cuddy stood on his left side, her hand caressing his forehead, then cheek. Chase checked his watch. Thirteen glared at the patient, willing him to wake. Taub was conflicted, not wanting to witness House at this particularly vulnerable moment.
Cindy felt like a voyeur in a surreal movie scene. This was theatre of the absurd. It seemed as if each of these people were tethered to life as they knew it by one man. She felt more or less compelled to touch him as well.
And it wasn't until she placed her hand on his foot that his eyes opened. Those piercing blue orbs were now dull and cloudy. They looked out to each person almost blindly. Why were they all here gathered at his bedside? What did it mean?
"House, stop avoiding it and look," Thirteen said harshly.
Greg shook his head almost imperceptibly.
"It's all right," Cuddy said bravely.
He recognized her as the siren.
Each person said something encouraging. And yet he wasn't inspired to see what he couldn't feel; what was missing. Greg closed his eyes to fight back the tears welling at the corners. He didn't want them to witness this. He had to be stronger, even if he felt weakened by his circumstances.
"Shh." A voice cooed. "You're safe. You're not alone. We're here for you."
He opened his eyes, looking for his angel of mercy. She stood at the foot of the bed, forcing him to look down. He cried freely. The leg was still there! The relief outweighed the fact that he couldn't feel it at all.
"House," Foreman commanded his attention. His patient looked at him directly. "Your leg is numb because we gave you a nerve block. Do you understand?"
He nodded, still not able to find his voice. Looking at the leg was much easier now. House wanted to touch the new bandages and feel it's solidity under his hands to prove it was real.
"We're here, and this is not an illusion," Cindy offered. She pushed past Foreman and Cuddy to take his hand and rest it on his right thigh.
He was crying again. This woman, who barely knew him, understood what he needed. And in the theatre of the absurd, once the outcast, she became the one logical thing he needed.
His team left the room together.
"That went well," Taub commented stoically.
"That went incredibly well," Chase concurred.
"It was a good idea," Foreman put a reassuring hand on Remy's shoulder.
"Yeah. Just wait until he finds out they did a surgery he didn't want." She was glad House was okay, yet she dreaded his reaction to her decision when he fully came aware.
The people in House's life circled in their usual orbits throughout the next few days. The post-surgical pain was barely tolerable once the nerve block wore off. He wondered how much new damage there was as his leg was kept immobilized in a splint. He was promised a shiny new cast similar to the previous one. Dr. Woolf had explained the need for the procedures to stabiles the fractures based on the potential for more emobli. It was a basic, 'you needed it, we did it, we'll talk about it when you're stronger' conversation. House was non-plussed by this news.
What bothered him was the kidney issue. He wanted to get to the bottom of what was causing it, knowing if he went into full failure, or the kidneys were permanently damaged from prolonging the diagnosis, transplant would not be an option. Most of the time he drifted off to sleep thinking about it.