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Rough Night
by xgraciela
When House and Wilson left the hospital together it was already quite dark outside.
"Wanna come over?" House asked when they were passing through the door.
Wilson wrapped his scarf around his neck. "House, I'm not in the mood. Maybe tomorrow..." Several snowflakes landed on his hair and melted almost immediately.
"Oh, come on! I need to celebrate. No clinic duty today!"
"House, I'm tired. Two terminal diagnoses today. The only thing I need is a hot shower and a bed." Wilson shivered a little and tightened his coat even more.
"You're no fun!"
"House..." Wilson wanted to say something more but instead of it he just sighed "Okay...but no horror movies I need something sappy and funny."
House smiled lightly, he knew that his friend couldn't resist for long.
"Chinese or Italian?" Wilson asked.
"I don't care as long as you're buying," House answered quickly and was already halfway to his car. Wilson only sighed and pulled out his cell phone to order their dinner.
On the way to his apartment House was talking mainly about some 'news' from General Hospital, in which Wilson absolutely wasn't interested. So he just nodded a few times. This whole 'TiVo' idea was bad, he was tired and he didn't have the smallest desire to spend this evening in front of TV, but Wilson couldn't say no to House. Or could he? He wasn't sure.
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The food was good and the movie made Wilson laugh few times. As the credits were rolling he yawned and looked over at House who was snoring quietly on his side of the couch. Wilson had to smile. He checked his watch; it was 11:38 pm. When he looked outside the window, he saw the snow falling heavily and sighed. Another night on the couch.
Wilson grabbed the remote and turned the TV off. House stirred in response.
"How..." he yawned, "how did it end?"
Wilson rolled his eyes. "They got married," he answered matter-of-factly and slowly got up from the couch, picking up the plates and two beer bottles, then heading to the kitchen.
"Nice." House dry swallowed one Vicodin and rose up from the couch. "You stayin'?"
"Probably."
"Just don't wet my couch again. It took ages to clean it up!"
"House, don't start that again!" Wilson yelled, annoyed, but his words were completely hidden by flushing of the toilet.
"You said something?" House asked innocently with an evil smirk on his face.
"No," Wilson frowned.
" 'Kay, towels are in the bathroom. I'm going to sleep." House headed to his bedroom.
Wilson only shook his head.
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After long, hot shower Wilson realized he hadn't taken a towel from the cabinet. "Damn!"
He got out of the tub. At the same moment that he put his weight on his leg, he lost his balance and slipped on the wet floor tile. He didn't even have time to realize what was going on, let alone calling out for help. It was all to fast. As he was falling he hit his head pretty hard on the edge of the tub. Agonizing pain shot through his head and everything just went black...
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House woke up hearing a dull thud. He was already dreaming and it took a while before he realized where he was. He grabbed his watch. He had only slept for twenty minutes. His leg wasn't hurting much due to his night-pill, he had taken before bed, so there wasn't any reason to be awake. Wilson would have to pay for such a rude awakening!
Slowly he got out of the bed and grabbed his cane. "Wilson!? What the hell are you doing?" House called still from the bedroom. When he reached the living room he saw the light coming from the bathroom.
"Wilson?!" Nothing.
House hobbled toward the bathroom door, which was open one inch at the most. "Wilson! I'm going in if you don't answer!"
Still no response.
"Okay I warned you! Wha--" House opened the door and saw Wilson sprawled out, naked on the floor. "My God! WILSON!"
He let his cane fall to the ground and kneeled awkwardly on the floor next to his unmoving friend. Wilson didn't look good. He was lying on his stomach and a pool of blood was already formed under his head.
The doctor in House told him to do something and fast, but the sight of Wilson was making it difficult.
After few seconds the doctor part won. House put his fingers gently, but firmly on Wilson's neck to feel the pulse. It was unsteady but sensible.
House quickly checked Wilson's spine for injuries. Relieved, he turned him carefully onto his back and tucked a towel under his head.
"Wilson?" House sounded weird. His usual sarcasm was overwhelmed by his concern. He slapped his friend on the cheek waiting for some reaction.
Wilson's eyelashes fluttered. His eyes opened slowly, but he shut them again and let out one single moan. "Owww." His fists were clenched, he started to shiver and the blood was almost all over his face.
House grabbed his wrist. "Can you hear me?"
One almost invisible nod was the answer. "H'rts," Wilson managed to get out of him. House checked the laceration about three centimeters long above Wilson's right eye. The blood was still running down his cheek.
"I know," House said softly, "hang on; I need to get some stuff, okay?"
" 'Kay." Wilson's hands were trembling and he started to sweat.
With this permission House got up, albeit with some difficulty. He was back in less than a minute with a first-aid kit, a blanket, a light pen and his cell phone. He dropped everything down beside Wilson and wet a washcloth before kneeling again. His leg was screaming at him in agony, but he had more important things to worry about.
House dialed 911 at first and then Cuddy to prepare an MRI for Wilson. Both calls were quick and to the point.
Wilson's breathing was fast and obviously causing him a lot of pain. "What else hurts besides your head?" House asked promptly.
The oncologist caught his breath. "Chest an' left ankle." His words were slurred from speaking through gritted teeth.
"Okay, calm down," House wiped the blood from his friend's face and put sterile gauze on the laceration. Then he grabbed the light pen.
Wilson winced when House gently raised one eye lid to check the pupil. He did the same with the other eye. They were reacting, which was very good news for both of them.
Wilson was still shivering so House draped the blanket over his friend's naked body. "You know where you are?"
The younger man searched the room with his eyes. He managed to leave them open but he was still grimacing from the pain. "Your...bathroom?"
"What's your name?"
"Wilson..., James."
"What day is it?"
Wilson tried to remember and then a visible fear came to his face. "I...I don't know..." His breathing sped up again and he was shaking violently.
"Shhh...easy, it's gonna be okay. You need to calm down." House placed his hand protectively on younger man's shoulder. It seemed to help and Wilson's breathing slowed back down. Although he was in pain he felt safe. He could swear he hadn't heard House speak so softly to him before and it was weird.
His eyelids suddenly became very heavy and all he wanted to do was sleep.
"Hey! No sleeping on me, okay? Stay with me. I'm gonna check your chest." House shook him a little.
"Sorry..." Wilson mumbled. He knew he shouldn't sleep, the dangers of falling asleep while suffering from a head injury were high but he was so tired!
"Don't," answered House quietly in an even more concerned tone than before, as he started to poke gently at his friend's ribcage. Almost immediately he felt a protrusion on the left side. Wilson whined at the touch. The fourth rib was definitely broken, probably from the fall on the hard floor.
"You're dizzy? Nauseous?"
"No....it just hurts," hissed Wilson.
"Where the hell is the ambulance?!" House sounded angry this time. He couldn't do much else for the other man now and he hated waiting. He also wanted Wilson as soon as possible to get the MRI and go on oxygen.
Wilson's eyes were slowly closing again. House knew he couldn't stay awake for long if nothing happened. On one side, there was his holy no-touching rule but he needed Wilson to stay up so what the heck! He tenderly grabbed his friend's hand and squeezed it firmly.
"Come on! Stay with me," he was almost pleading.
Wilson stirred and opened his eyes again. He nodded and squeezed House's hand slightly back. Finally there was something to hold on to, something safe.
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His leg was killing him, but House stayed with Wilson on the floor until the ambulance came.
"Over here!" He yelled upon the EMT's arrival.
Two young men ran across the hall to them. House rose awkwardly to his feet. "Middle-aged man, concussion, probably grade 3 or 4. Pupils reactive, frontal laceration, bleeding has stopped. He's broken his rib and probably sprained his ankle," he stopped, thinking what else might be useful.
"You're a doctor sir?" One of them asked while his colleague kneeled beside Wilson and checked him for reported injuries.
"Of course I am. And he is too," House pointed at his friend.
"Can you hear me?" the EMT asked the patient. Wilson only nodded. He felt exhausted. The other paramedic prepared a nasal cannula with oxygen and attached Wilson to a heart monitor. They also stabilized his neck in a plastic collar because of the risk of spinal injury.
"I'm going to give you something for the pain," the paramedic stated. After the next nod he skillfully inserted a cannula into the back of Wilson's hand and started him on the IV.
"What is it?" House asked. He was standing behind them, feeling like he was in some very bad dream.
"Fluids and Tylenol, he needs something for the pain. Is he allergic?" The paramedic asked. House only shook his head `no'.
The EMT nodded, administered the drug and ran out to bring in the stretcher.
"You coming with us?" His colleague asked while taking Wilson's BP.
House nodded and limped into the hall to put his jacket on. Still he looked a little bit funny with pajamas pants on.
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"In which hospital are we going to?" The paramedic asked once inside the cab. Wilson was already stabilized and lying quietly on the stretcher. He felt weird but he didn't know if it was because of the injury or the pain meds.
"PPTH," House answered quickly. "We both work there and they're waiting for us already."
The EMT nodded. Princenton General was closer but the patient was stabilized and this other man surely had a good reason to go to the PPTH.
Wilson stirred and turned his head to the left, facing House, who was holding his thigh with both hands. A wave of guilt went through the oncologist.
"House, is your leg bad?" He spoke softly and sounded worried.
"Care about yourself for once! You're the one who is sick in here!" But even House's voice was filled with concern.
Wilson smiled and outstretched his non-IV hand to grab House's. The older doctor looked at him suspiciously but then squeezed it back, breaking the strict rules again tonight. Who cares...
It provoked a light smile on Wilson's face as he closed his eyes again.
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Cuddy was really waiting for them at the entrance to the ER. The medics took Wilson quickly inside and wheeled him towards a room. She let them go and looked at House who was limping as quickly as possible behind them.
She stopped him with her hand on his shoulder.
"Let them do their job. The MRI is already prepared, he's going to be OK." She spoke slowly and reassuringly.
House nodded and let himself slide down into one of the plastic chairs along the corridor. He tilted his head and tiredly closed his eyes. She sat next to him with concerned look on her face.
"What happened?"
House sighed and lowered his head. "Don't know. I heard the bang and found him in the bathroom. He must have slipped on the wet floor."
She put her hand on his shoulder again. "I'm sure, he'll be alright."
"Thanks," he got up and headed to the lifts. Something was wrong. This wasn't House. No remarks or even answers. He had thanked her! And the sight of him limping slowly through the corridor was somehow sad.
"House!" She called after him. "Where are you going?"
He stopped and thought for a moment, then turned around. "To my office, I have to make myself pretty for you again." He pointed at his pajamas and a very little smirk appeared on his face.
Cuddy shook her head and smiled. "Meet you in the MRI." After all, maybe it was still the same House she had always known.
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Down to the MRI came House already full-dressed. He wasn't limping as heavily, so Cuddy assumed he had probably popped a pill or two as well.
Together they went into the MRI room. Young technician was already taking images of Wilson's motionless body.
"How is it looking?" Cuddy asked.
"No internal bleeding," answered the technician and Cuddy could swear she heard House let out the long-held breath. "Only a small amount of swelling on his right side." The young man continued.
Cuddy looked on the screen. House was fixing the sight of his friend's legs outstretched in front of the tunnel with his eyes.
"He'll be admitted for a few days," stated Cuddy.
Another doctor stepped into the room. "Dr. Cuddy? Dr. House?"
They both turned and nodded. House knew this guy only by sight and so wasn't sure if he could trust him.
"I'm treating Dr. Wilson. I just thought you may want to hear what's wrong with him."
"Go on!" House snapped.
Cuddy put an arm on him. "Please," she smiled at the other doctor.
"We braced his rib and sutured that laceration. I'm not worried about his ankle; it's a little bit sprained but nothing serious. Still, he's suffering from a grade 3 concussion, but as you can see," he pointed at the screen, "no bleeding, so I'm optimistic. Dr. Peters also did a neurological exam. There's no damage."
Cuddy smiled. "Thank God!" House only nodded, but even he was grateful.
-------
A few hours later Wilson was still sleeping in his hospital bed. House was sitting in a comfortable recliner that he'd urged someone to carry over there.
A nurse came in to check on the slumbering oncologist. She took his vitals and received a couple of bad glances from House.
When she left Wilson shifted a little. House sat up and moved his chair towards the bed.
He smiled when his friend opened his eyes.
"Hou-se?"
"Here," House reassured him. "How are you feelin'?"
"Weak."
"You know what day is it yet?"
Wilson thought for a moment. "Thursday?" He asked quietly.
House smiled. "Congratulations!"
The younger man grinned but only slightly.
"Wilson?"
"Uh-huh?"
"Don't do that again, you scared the hell out of me." House's voice was somehow choked.
" 'Kay," muttered Wilson, but drifted back into the sleep almost immediately.
House hesitated but then circled his hand protectively around Wilson's, squeezing a little and breaking his principles again. After all, every rule has exceptions.
~The end~
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of NBC/Universal, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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