Chapter 2 - May 13th
...
House's eyelids fluttered in an attempt to get used to the light of the room. Everything spun... the bed, the room, the man in a white coat by the same bed. His eyes closed and then opened again, finally succeeding in focusing the hand busy in fixing his drip.
He closed his eyes again at the sharp pain which followed the slight movement of his neck. A skull fracture? That one or... or a bomb had just exploded into his head. He inhaled deeply and his breath immediately stopped at the acute pain in his chest.
Fuck! Clearly not just a rib cage contusion... rib fracture? Two, maybe three. Fuck...everything hurt like hell!
He couldn't think. Not clearly at least.
Pieces of memories, dreams and nightmares flashed in his mind like pieces of out-of-focus pictures, twirling in his skull in a confused vortex.
Again... people... frenetic movements of bodies... frantic lights... flashing lights...
And grey eyes...
His eyes opened again, focusing on the doctor by his bed, now intent on writing something on what surely was his file.
Man. Left-handed. And probably the only left-handed person used to wear a watch on the left anyway.
His look focused on it. The short hand almost on the number 8, the long one on 2... Ten past 8 then. PM? Or AM? To be honest... actually, he couldn't tell. The gloomy grey light seeping in throughout the half open shutter didn't come in hand right now.
"May 13th"
The doctor looked up at those words, giving him an astonished look and then a faint smile.
"What?"
"May 13th," House weakly repeated in a low tone "question 1 on that MMSE" he said, slightly nodding toward the folder as his head spun even more at that light move.
MMSE. Mini-mental state examination.
"Well, unless I was unconscious for more than a few hours," he specified as the doctor gave him another slight smile, closing the folder and resting it on the bed.
"You were. 18 hours. It's 8.10 am on May 14," he said looking into House's eyes "What's my name?"
"Dr. James E. Wilson" He replied as a warmer smile played on Wilson's mouth.
"Well, that's good, House. Very good"
As a response the patient gave his doctor an annoyed look instead, closing his eyes and exhaling slowly before opening them again.
"Yeah, but maybe you should keep that thing away before asking it" House said with a glare, pointing at the badge on Wilson's white coat.
Wilson's rolled his eyes, this time more at himself than at his friend. He took the penlight from his pocket and checked his pupils, forcing his friend to keep his eyes open as he tried to close them.
"I'm ok"
House tuned his head away from Wilson in an attempt to avoid the dazzling light hitting his pupil.
I'm ok! He repeated in his mind. Do you want me to try another language? I'm fine. Sto bene. Estoy bien. Je vais bien. Mabuti namam ako. Is it enough?
"I'm fine," he repeated, loud enough to be heard this time and abruptly moving Wilson's hand away from his face. "My burned optic nerve can't say the same"
"Is he back?"
House's eyes moved at that voice, looking beyond Wilson's shoulder as he turned toward that voice in turn.
Wilson looked from House to Cuddy again and snorted, half nodding and half shaking his head.
"If 'being an asshole' can be counted as good sign, then yes" He said, giving Cuddy an head to toe look as she approached the bed.
She got changed but she clearly hadn't gone home. She looked tired and yet younger in just jeans and a white T-shirt. She looked shorter too, but that clearly because of the flat shoes which had replaced her usual heels. Well, something even an administrator was allowed to on Sunday after all.
She untied her ponytail, nervously turning the elastic band in her hand for a couple of second as she approached the bed, and went to tie her hair again.
Much to her surprise (and Wilson's), House reached for her hand before she could do that, holding it in his.
"What's the last thing you remember?" The oncologist asked, trying to focus on his friend and ignore the unease look on Cuddy's face.
Well, maybe ignoring it would have been easier if House stopped to look at her that way. Wilson shook his head again and his lips parted probably to ask him the same question a second time. Instead he just stared at his friend as House slightly turned his head toward him and their looks met.
His eyebrow lifted a little and one of the corners of his lips curled up.
"Something a gentleman can't say out loud" he said giving Cuddy a mischievous glance as her lips parted and she looked from one to the other one of the two men staring at her at the same time.
"I can't remember how I came here, if that's what you're asking. It's called post traumatic amnesia" House said again, turning to look at Wilson as he rolled his eyes at his impertinent tone. Weak, tired and yet sharp and ironic like always.
"What can you remember then?" Cuddy asked in a softer tone than Wilson's, gently freeing her hand from House's to check his intravenous drip, more in an attempt to avoid his piercing gaze that because he really needed it. She leant a little on him as she did that, accidentally (or not) allowing him a peek into the V-neck of her T-shirt.
She tried to keep it professional, not looking down at him as House's gaze clearly moved on her cleavage. Well, in a way another point on his neurological test, right? Her tongue lightly dampened her lips in an attempt not to think about his piercing gaze on herself. She clearly could feel it, like always.
She stopped as his right hand reached for her, taking a lock of her hair and sliding it between his fingers till the tip, then meeting her eyes.
"Why did you cut it?" He asked, not answering her question.
She gave him a even more puzzled look, swallowing and straightening her back, moving that lock behind her ear as she met Wilson's gaze.
"Stop avoiding the answer, House!" Wilson cut him off "And don't give me the post-traumatic amnesia shit! You couldn't remember anyway! Your alcohol level was 1.0, not to mention there was more Vicodin in your blood than in the hospital pharmacy"
"I had at most 2 beers. And I don't make use of that stuff, Watson"
Wilson's eyebrows lifted for a second and then furrowed. He gave House a bored and annoyed look, letting out a loud snort. Watson? He was just being a moron again, right? Wilson was about to speak again when House's lips parted.
"Ok, buddy," House said locking eyes with Wilson, like someone who had finally agreed to cooperate "We got...what?" He turned to Cuddy this time, stopping for a few seconds like trying to recall the events of the previous night, or maybe just waiting for her to answer in his place "We had at most a couple hits of weed...then, well, the strongest thing at her place is Red Bull"
Cuddy's mouth opened but she didn't say anything, staring at House's eyes like she wasn't looking into them but beyond them.
"What? Were you two together?"
The air left Cuddy's lungs like from a deflating balloon at Wilson's scolding tone. Really? Was he rebuking her more for having spent the night with him (slept with him, maybe) than for smoking weed like a flower child? Well, according to House's version of facts at least.
Anyway, she didn't answer and just looked from one to the other one as disbelief turned into realization and again into disbelief and finally into concern.
Her stomach clenched and she just shook her head as words didn't come, getting lost somewhere in her throat.
She looked down at her hand, an inch from House and at his index with tentatively but so naturally moved toward hers.
"Cuddy?"
Wilson gave her a puzzled look as she turned to House instead, whispering something in his ear and covering his hand with hers again, taking it to her chest for a second before letting go of it.
He could almost bet he heard a 'stay' from House and what sounded like a 'Greg' between her words... but, well, if Wilson was wondering about asking her something about it, the dead look she gave him as soon as she turned toward him again was enough to make him shut up.
He watched her as she headed toward the door, stopping there as soon as she realized he wasn't behind her. She just took a few steps back into the room again, grabbed Wilson's forearm, ignoring the way in which he startled, and forced him to move, then stopping again as soon as they were far enough from there.
Their eyes met and he was about to speak when her hand massaged the space between her eyebrows and then covered her face. She stood there. She inhaled one time... deeply... and exhaled slowly. Her hand moved down, sliding along her neck, and her eyes stared at her own feet for a moment before meeting Wilson's again.
"Call Foreman!" She just said, maybe not in the firm tone she would have liked.
Wilson's eyebrows furrowed and he gave her a questioning look.
"What?"
His gaze turned from questioning to worried, probably mirroring hers, and she looked down at her feet again.
She sighed, opening House's folder and leafing through the papers, then closing it again.
"I want another CT scan and an EEG" She said, regaining her administrative tone and practically slamming the folder against Wilson's chest.
He didn't startled though. Nor moved. He just gave her a weird look and opened the folder again, lingering for a few seconds on the same paper she had just looked at.
A drug test. Positive for opioids. Negative for tetrahydrocannabinol.
So? What did it mean? That he lied about weed? So? Why was she so upset? He made fun of her all the time. Why was she so weird now? How could she be so sure it wasn't just one of House's jokes?
Had he hallucinated a night of sex and drug with her? Well, after all...who hadn't? He had just said it out loud. He mentally chuckled at that thought, doing his best to stay serious anyway. And... maybe Cuddy was such a moron she hadn't noticed, but it was clear she was House's biggest fantasy! Maybe eventually his fantasies about her had turned into hallucinations. Or it was just confabulation instead. Nonsense speech. It was typical of amnesia filling the empty spaces of memory with false memories.
"Don't freak out, Cuddy! Such an amount of Vicodin can give hallucinations. And confabulation is common in such an injury. No focal neurologic deficits. No intracranial injury. Just give him a few hours"
She bit on her lower lip so hardly that he couldn't help but look at her mouth and then again into her eyes. She swallowed and her lips parted like she was about to reply. Instead, she just gave him a little nod.
Wilson nodded in turn and a sort of satisfied smile curled up the corners of his lips. He had to admit that winning a differential with her felt very good.
"I checked him, Cuddy," he continued, now clearly a little too confident "no disorientation in space. Even less in time. "He said it's May 13. It's normal... his memory stopped on the bus accident night, so... on yesterday, May 13, and-"
He stopped as soon as Cuddy's hand reached for the folder in his hand.
"I'm gonna call Foreman. We'll have the CT and EEG results in a few hours"
He stood there speechless as she turned on her heels, leaving him there like an idiot. What was all this about?
"Are you two together?"
He couldn't tell if he regretted more that question or the cocky tone with which he practically shouted those words in the hallway. He stared at Cuddy's shoulders as she abruptly stopped, standing there for a few seconds but not turning toward him. What? Really? Had he really hit the target in a sort of House-style epiphany?
He met her gaze as soon as she turned only her head to look at him. He heard her 'NO' right and clear and yet he was probably experiencing a full Housian moment because he heard that 'no', but he didn't buy it. House would have said because of how she slightly bent her head by side.
"How long?" he insisted, trying to have a point with her as she gave him a bored sigh and a glare instead.
"You're way off, Wilson" she just said, turning on her heels again and leaving him there with an idiotic face in the middle of the hallway.
She knew he was still looking at her. She knew his hand was running in his hair and scratching his nape as his awkward look was all over his face. She turned just when she entered the elevator, meeting Wilson's stare again for a few seconds as the door slid closed.
"The right question would have been 'how long ago'..." She whispered in the silence of those four walls, inhaling deeply and biting on her lower lip.