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  And So It Goes. 
 by Whitedogs3	

 And a One, and a Two...

Part One: Awake

 He became vaguely aware of sound. Comforting sounds. Beeping. A whoosh of
air. The far away murmuring of voices. Eyes closed, House took a slow,
deep breath--and his right abdomen burned. 

 He allowed himself to open one eye.

 The brightness was shocking. He was immediately reminded the lighting in
most patient rooms really sucked--put there more for the doctors and
nurses who pop in and make notes on charts than the patients trapped
there. Which, considering he was mostly on that other side of the
equation, hadn't bothered him much. 

 He closed his eyes, breathed, and then took another stab at vision.

 His eyes quickly drew into slits for a reason other than the brightness.
House remembered now. He'd been shot--twice--and the hallucinations that
had run through his head had seemed so real...ripping out stitches,
fighting with Cuddy, punching Wilson, gutting Harpo like a fish with the
computer-controlled scalpel. 

 Then there was a definite tingle. He remembered slicing a button from the
top of Cameron's shirt as she lay on the surgery table...a puff of
air...and the way she'd stood up to him in the hallway, stopping him.
Touching his arm. What was he...twelve?

 House's eyes flickered to the right as his head turned, seeing the empty
visitor's chair next to his bed. So much for the assumption of devoted,
tender concern from Dr. Cameron. A small part of him was even satisfied in
his disappointment, reassured that the world always did let you down.

 "You're awake." 

 Turning to his left this time, and exacerbating his already throbbing
headache in the process, House looked to the bed next to him which, in his
dream, has been occupied by the shooter. Instead Dr. Allison Cameron was
stretched out on her side on top of the blankets, half asleep and rumpled.
Her eyes looked even more moist than normal...from sleep, or from crying?
She was gorgeous.

 House couldn't help himself. He gave her a small smile.

 Allison's eyes widened slightly, and she returned his smile as she slid
off of the bed.

 "I had to promise the ICU nurses that I'd change the sheets myself after
my nap." She said, nervously straightening the top blanket.

 House regarded her tired appearance.

 His hand reached up and touched his cheek, ready to estimate the length
of lost time by the length of stubble found there. Instead his fingers met
a soft, whisker-free surface.

 "How long?"

 "You've been unconscious for almost three days." She approached the side
of his bed. "The surgery went well. The first bullet went all the way
through, tearing some of the large intestine and puncturing your right
kidney, all of which they repaired. The bullet to your neck did nick your
jugular, and our biggest concern was pushing platelets to replace all the
blood you'd lost. You're critical, but stable. BP..."

 He waved his hand to shut her up.

 "I see the monitor. Did you tell Cuddy about the Ketamine....?"

 Cameron nodded. 

 "I did. That's part of the reason you've been out so long."

 Wilson walked in at that moment, his usual cheerful look on his face.

 "Well, look who's back among the living. He takes a schticking, and keeps
on ticking." Wilson walked over to the empty chair beside House's bed and
sat down.

 "I expect offerings, you know." House murmured, closing his eyes against
the increased pounding in his head. "How dare you approach without a bag
of chocolate covered rum balls or a shiny balloon that tells me to `Get
Well Soon!'"

 Wilson gestured to the nightstand next to the bed, and from his
peripheral vision House could make out what looked like a garden of
flowers, several teddy bears, wrapped boxes, and a stack of cards.

 "Who the hell brought me all this crap?" he groused. "I want chocolate.
Helium balloons that I can suck in to make my voice all high and squeaky.
Bouquets shaped like a giant horseshoe." Pause. "The good stuff!"

 Wilson gave him a good natured grin. "Amazingly, once the shooting hit
the 6 o'clock news, gifts just started pouring in...former patients,
hopeful interns. Even a couple of colleagues, past and present, saw fit to
wish you well. But alas, so far, no horseshoes."

 It was then that House noticed it. Tucked in under the covers next to
him, with only the top if it's head visible, was a bright pink animal.
Groaning but determined to extract it, House reached down and pulled out a
foot-tall elephant dressed in a tutu and sporting a toothy smile. Trying
to touch it the least amount possible, he had grabbed it by the
hand...activating the sound devise in the toy and drenching him with a
sing-songy version of "Good Morning Starshine."

 "My God." He said, flipping the creature into Wilson's lap. "Who just
ended their formerly promising career...Chase or Foreman?"

 "I believe," said Wilson, sliding further down in his chair, "that this
little cutie was sent by a certain 80 year old ex-patient you treated for
the "Kissing Disease."

 "That's it." said House, shuddering as the elephant played on. "Next time
she comes here with an STD, I'm reporting her to AARP."

 Dr. Cameron still hovered at the side of the bed, arms crossed, and House
turned to her and growled, "It's so relaxing seeing you clench every
muscle at my bedside...no wonder I slept for three days."

 The concerned look on her face changed slowly, and a sarcastic smirk of
her own replaced it.

 "Well, since it looks like I won't be able to harvest any organs here
today, I'll be on my way. I have all these clinic hours that need to be
covered because SOMEONE pissed a patient off so badly that they ended up
shooting him." Her cold stare met House's blue eyes and she walked towards
the door.

 "Before you go...how'd things turn out with the Tongue guy. Harpo.
Anything...explode?" 

 That stopped her, but she didn't turn around.

 "The lymph node under his chin was infected. Once we removed it, his
tongue regained normal size and function." And she left.

 "You do have a talent for clearing a room." Wilson reached over, put the
elephant on the nightstand and plucked a wrapped box from the collection.
"Here, why don't you open something and see if it pisses you off less than
having someone concerned about your wellbeing."

 "It better be dark chocolate." Seeing no note, House ripped off the
wrapping, tossing the paper onto the floor. 

 Wilson smiled at House's look of astonishment. It was a new cartridge for
his Gameboy...one that House desperately coveted but that wasn't supposed
to be released for several months. A Beta Test version, with all sorts of
legalese included with the packaging that he quickly tossed onto the floor
with the wrapping. 

 "Score!" A true smile came over his face. "Who'd you have to cure to get
a copy of this? Pure gaming gold...I could sell pirated versions of this
today and be set for life!"

 Wilson shook his head. "Not from me." 

 House looked at him from under his brow.

 "Cameron?"

 Wilson nodded. "Why she went to the trouble is beyond me. And if you ask
her who she had to sleep with to get it, I will personally take that
cartridge and hand it over to Schneck in radiology. He won't ever use it,
but once you give him anything, you never see it again."

 "Had I but known that she had these connections, I wouldn't have been so
stingy with the nooky." House lovingly checked out all of the angles of
the gift. "Perfect. Not a scratch on `er."

 "So glad you've now found a reason for living." Wilson looked at his
watch. "Gotta go. Special board meeting today...discussing security in the
building. All your fault, really. If you hadn't gotten yourself shot, I
could be out there playing golf, or chasing nurses."

 "I'm beginning to subscribe to the idea that everything happens for a
reason." House said, still ogling the cartridge. "If the reason I was shot
was so I could get this as a present...I can accept that." 

 "Just so you have your priorities straight." Wilson headed for the door. 

 "And," House quickly added before he could leave, "I don't suppose it was
you who covered my face with apricot shaving cream sometime earlier today
and removed my trademark scruff?"

 "I was in rounds all morning." said Wilson. "But, such a tender job on
your face, I'd have to think Cameron. Unless..."he smiled again as he was
exiting the door, "it's not just your face that's been shaved. Then, I'd
think Chase or Foreman. Maybe Cuddy."

 House shifted slightly in his bed, unable to determine, without looking,
if there was any depilatory actions taken below the neck. He shrugged. 

 What's itchy nads compared to hours and hours of game-playing pleasure? 

 Flipping the cartridge, House wondered if his legs would hold out long
enough for a trip to his office and his backpack...

 There was a plop at his calves. Miraculously, just as he was divining a
means to get it, his Game Boy had flown across the room and into reach.
Looking up, he saw Cameron in the doorway, her arm still extended from the
throw.

 He nodded at her slowly, their eyes locked. 

 Finally she smiled, rolled her eyes, and left without a word.

 End of Part One.

  
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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 Fox Television, 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.