A Little Something to Remember Me By

Of course the CT had revealed nothing. But whether or not the guy was a scammer or just a whiner, you can never be too careful if there is even the slightest chance of a head injury. And James Wilson is nothing if not conscientious.

But now he is done. Oh, and how he is done. He had been pulled out of a marathon charting session to help in the ER. Cuddy had requisitioned everyone who was even remotely dispensable. He had even heard House somewhere in one of the cubicles, arguing with a patient. It was surprising that he hadn't managed to hide and avoid Cuddy. But then he remembers that House's whole team has been drafted in – apparently their last case was finished. Cuddy had probably caught House sleeping in his office where House had been waiting for him to get a ride home.

He goes over to triage to check that there are no more rescue people waiting to be seen. Chase sits there laughing with one of the new nurses who seems to be enjoying the attention. The board is clear, so he goes to sign out.

"House still around?"

For some reason, Chase grins at him.

"Yeah, he's in the last cubicle. He's got a guy with a small laceration in there. He should be finished by now."

He waves thanks to Chase and leaves him to continue trying his luck with the nurse.

Not hearing anything from inside the cubicle, he figures House has already dismissed his patient and pulls back the curtain. He is wrong. House has his back to him and doesn't look up from the patient.

"Hey House, you ready to…"

The moment House turns around on his stool, Wilson freezes. House had been closing a tiny wound on the patient's left temple. He swivels around and winks at Wilson.

"Nearly done here, Wilson, only one more stitch."

Not possible.

House would never knowingly accept Tritter as his patient.

Hell, Chase would have never sent him this patient.

But then he remembers Chase's inexplicable grin. He would have. And apparently he did.

This is an accident waiting to happen.

"House, are you sure…"

"Nearly done, nearly done, just one more." House sounds almost cheerful.

What the heck?

Wilson moves a little closer. Tritter has his eyes closed and looks anything but relaxed. In fact he looks like he is in pain. Severe pain.

He takes a look at the wound. Wound is almost an exaggeration. A butterfly would have probably done. One glance at Chase's scrawl on the admittance form tells him what's going on.

Patient may need stitches.

"House, are you still not done yet," Tritter grinds out at that moment.

House pulls up and away, cocking his head to one side as if he is admiring some painting.

"I think that's it. I'm done, Detective." He nods at Wilson as if inviting him to check he had done his job. "You'll be fine now. The stitches are dissolvable and will pop out by themselves in about two to three weeks, so no need to call back."

Wilson takes one look at Tritter's face and has to suppress a gasp. He has seen better sutures done by a first year med student. Hell, even his great-aunt Melissa could have done a better job, and she is nearly blind.

Tritter gets up from the exam table, still clearly in pain. His shirt is soaked through and sweat is pouring down his face. Wilson wonders what anesthetic House had administered. If any.

Oh God, this is bad.

Any moment now Tritter will ask for a mirror, and then the shit will hit the fan. House is a dead man.

What on earth had possessed him? And what had possessed Chase to even send Tritter to House in the first place? He should have kept them miles apart.

House chooses this moment to say his goodbyes to his patient. He is calm and polite – nothing like his usual demeanor.

"Unfortunately, I can't give you any more pain meds, you're maxed out. But we go way back so, off the record, I can suggest you get some over the counter stuff on your way home. I won't note any of this down in your chart, you've got my word." House holds his hand up. "And Dr. Wilson here will keep it zipped as well, right?"

Wilson isn't quite sure what he is agreeing to but he has no choice. He just nods.

"Oh, and Detective, due to the anesthetics you won't be allowed to drive for a couple of hours. There's a taxi rank just outside, to the left of the main doors."

There never were any cabs out there in an emergency situation like this. The cabbies hated the long drive out to PPTH. When accidents like this one happened, they all flocked over to Princeton General. House knows this.

Tritter would be waiting for ages.

And it's raining. He will be soaked to his skin in minutes.

To Wilson's great surprise Tritter just nods, wincing as he moves his head.

"Thanks, Dr. House. I appreciate it. You've been nothing but professional. Sorry for doubting you."

There is a white flag in every syllable.

They wait until they can be sure Tritter has not only cleared the ER but also the lobby.

"What the hell, House," it finally bursts out. "I have never in my whole life seen worse sutures than that. You sewed him up like a sack of potatoes!"

House leans back against the exam table, stretches his legs out and grins. He looks very pleased with himself.

"So you noticed my handiwork? It's slightly imprecise because he was fidgeting so much. Just wouldn't hold still. I think maybe that was on account of me only using half the normal dose of lidocaine, though."

Wilson isn't sure whether to laugh or cry.

"WHAT? House, are you insane? That man nearly cost you your license. You could've ended up in jail because of him. You shouldn't even go near him. Couldn't you just send him to someone else?"

"But there was nobody else. He was in pain. He didn't want to wait. Besides, the notation on the chart sounded kinda urgent. May need stitches. You think I should have just let him sit out there and bleed for who knows how long? I didn't want to risk a lawsuit. The man's a cop after all."

"You're beyond help, House. Once Tritter looks in the mirror, he'll be after you like the devil."

House looks smug. "I don't think so. He'll be too worried about me making a note about drug-seeking behavior in his file. The man's addicted to nicotine. And he's an adrenaline junkie, Wilson. He needs his kicks. I'm thinking he wasn't quite averse to testing his limits today."

There is no point in locking the stable door after the horse has bolted.

"I'm not getting involved in this, House. If this comes back to bite you in the ass, I'm keeping out of it."

They make their way out to the lobby, passing Chase on the way.

House gives him a nod, but says nothing. Chase returns the nod with a satisfied smile on his face and turns back to continue chatting up the nurse.

"Hey, Wilson. Did you know that 'Tritt' means kick in German? Well, I've decided to kick back a little. Let's go and get Chinese and some beers on the way home."