It was a typical dia for Lisa Cuddy, as the blowing wind welcomed her as she entered the hospital lobby. Pulling her rosa, -de-rosa gloves off her hands, and caressing them until the warm feeling returned, she then ruffled her curls that the wind outside had enrolados into giant rolls of silky brunette hair.
“Here are your notes Dr.Cuddy.” The cheerful receptionist handed some rosa, -de-rosa and yellow post-it notes, which Cuddy preceded to crumple into her black leather briefcase.
“Thanks.” As Cuddy smiled, she was surprised when she turned around to see a dishevelled Wilson enter the lobby.
“Your late, what happened?” Cuddy scanned Wilson from topo, início to bottom; his camisa was wrinkled and half tucked into his dull coloured trousers, and his face was very drawn and grey.
“I tried calling you all last night.” Wilson tried to catch his breath, as Cuddy looked with a furrowed brow at him.
“What happened?” Wilson took another deep breath, before he looked up into Cuddy’s eyes with slight melancholy eyes.
“The hospital called me last night, House was in a car accident last night-”
Cuddy took in a shallow breath of air, before panic stars to appear on her face.
“He’s been in ICU ever since.” Wilson and Cuddy had now begun walking towards the elevator, which its elevator doors opened instantaneously as Wilson pressed the floor number where House was being taken care of.
*
Cuddy unbuttoned her jacket, and over took Wilson to get to House as quick as possible. When she reached his room, she stopped abruptly, which allowed Wilson to catch up with her.
“Is he conscious?” Cuddy was fixated at the bruised and bloodied arms and face of House, as he lay in the hospital cama motionless.
“He was when I was with him last night, I’ll check his chart-”
Wilson slid open the glass doors, and unravelled his scarf before checking the chart at the end of House’s bed. Cuddy followed him slowly, still in shock at the appearance of House. So weak and feeble, unable to mover his arms or even lift his head.
“His charts normal, nothing to severe, just some bruising and cuts.”
Cuddy walked over to House and gently placed a hand over the biggest bruise on the side of his face, and then checked his pulse.
“He’s an idiot.” Her voice filled with anger, and frustration. Wilson signed some forms on House’s chart allowing for mais pain meds to be given to him.
“At least he’ll be less cranky with me doing this now.” Wilson spoke with his dry and breathy voice with a hint of annoyance at being put in this predicament yet again.
House’s eyes stayed shut, as Cuddy took a seat. Wilson looked over at her, before he left to begin his work. Cuddy didn’t have a busy workday on a Wednesday, so she thought she would spend a little time with House. Maybe it was the sadist in her, that wanted her to experience and go through mais pain, but she knew if she weren’t there, she would regret it.
*
Foreman walked into the outer office, and was greeted por dismal expression from both Taub and Thirteen.
“House is going to be out for a few mais days. I guess being evil kenievil was too much of a temptation.”
He slammed down the file of the new case, and sat himself down at the head of the table.
Whilst the team huddled together after hearing of what was going on, Wilson was making his segundo visit of the dia to Houses room. When he walked inside, he was surprised not to see Cuddy there.
But that was pushed to the back of his mind when he noticed House was waking up, letting out a deep groan.
“Welcome back.” Wilson said in his sarcastic tone, before standing over him, as House’s hands rubbed his face.
“I feel like I’ve been…hit por a bus.” Wilson sighed as he checked House’s vitals.
“Technically you have, twice now I think.” House tried to sit himself up, before looking around the room.
“It’s just you?” House asked in a curious tone, as Wilson nodded yes.
“You want me to drive you home?” House checked his morphine, to see if he was getting enough before accepting Wilson’s offer with a nod.
“Sure, as long as you give me my Vicodin.” His glare was wide and serious, as Wilson reached into his lab casaco and handed him House’s Vicodin bottle.
“I’ll let you…change. You’re clothes are in the drawer.” Wilson gestured to House’s bedside mesa, tabela before he walked, with a stutter, outside the room.
*
House was pulling his jeans up, and as he reached for his cinto, correia and then turned back again, he noticed Cuddy standing at the doorway, as she closed the doors behind her.
“Glad to see you up.”
House replied with a smirk, which matched Cuddy’s unsympathetic look and body language; slanted slightly as she leaned on the wall, with her high heels crossed over one another.
“Where you worried?” House waited in anticipation for an answer, although not for any vain reasons, he was genuinely asking if she cared for him.
Cuddy looked down, before she folded her arms and stood straight.
“I think Wilson was mais worried.” House nodded before he went back to fastening his cinto, correia buckle, unaware of Cuddy’s facial expression of worry as he did so.
“Do you need anything?” Cuddy wasn’t speaking through her emotions; she had detached her emotional self from her work self a long time ago.
“Oh I dunno, maybe a couple of days off; with a customary free ‘script for Vicodin.”
Cuddy smiled at his pathetic attempt to score mais drugs, since his morphine was wearing off.
Walking seductively towards him, she caught House’s eye. Reaching out to his bruises and stitches on his face; she lightly stroked them, turning his cheek slightly to get a better look.
“There’s still some grit in there.” House turned his head back to face Cuddy, her face almost within an inch of his.
“You should get that looked at.” Her voice was quivering, underneath the weight of her emotions, as House looked back into her eyes.
Pausing for a moment, in the light of the setting sun behind them. House could feel Cuddy’s hand slipping away, but he caught it before it dropped, holding it despite knowing that Cuddy was afraid someone might see them.
“House.” She whispered as quiet as a mouse.
House let her hand go, before she stepped away from him. Cuddy flinched slightly as she looked out onto the floor of the ward outside.
Without looking behind, at House, she walked back out the room, and back to her failsafe: her job, and her work.
“Here are your notes Dr.Cuddy.” The cheerful receptionist handed some rosa, -de-rosa and yellow post-it notes, which Cuddy preceded to crumple into her black leather briefcase.
“Thanks.” As Cuddy smiled, she was surprised when she turned around to see a dishevelled Wilson enter the lobby.
“Your late, what happened?” Cuddy scanned Wilson from topo, início to bottom; his camisa was wrinkled and half tucked into his dull coloured trousers, and his face was very drawn and grey.
“I tried calling you all last night.” Wilson tried to catch his breath, as Cuddy looked with a furrowed brow at him.
“What happened?” Wilson took another deep breath, before he looked up into Cuddy’s eyes with slight melancholy eyes.
“The hospital called me last night, House was in a car accident last night-”
Cuddy took in a shallow breath of air, before panic stars to appear on her face.
“He’s been in ICU ever since.” Wilson and Cuddy had now begun walking towards the elevator, which its elevator doors opened instantaneously as Wilson pressed the floor number where House was being taken care of.
*
Cuddy unbuttoned her jacket, and over took Wilson to get to House as quick as possible. When she reached his room, she stopped abruptly, which allowed Wilson to catch up with her.
“Is he conscious?” Cuddy was fixated at the bruised and bloodied arms and face of House, as he lay in the hospital cama motionless.
“He was when I was with him last night, I’ll check his chart-”
Wilson slid open the glass doors, and unravelled his scarf before checking the chart at the end of House’s bed. Cuddy followed him slowly, still in shock at the appearance of House. So weak and feeble, unable to mover his arms or even lift his head.
“His charts normal, nothing to severe, just some bruising and cuts.”
Cuddy walked over to House and gently placed a hand over the biggest bruise on the side of his face, and then checked his pulse.
“He’s an idiot.” Her voice filled with anger, and frustration. Wilson signed some forms on House’s chart allowing for mais pain meds to be given to him.
“At least he’ll be less cranky with me doing this now.” Wilson spoke with his dry and breathy voice with a hint of annoyance at being put in this predicament yet again.
House’s eyes stayed shut, as Cuddy took a seat. Wilson looked over at her, before he left to begin his work. Cuddy didn’t have a busy workday on a Wednesday, so she thought she would spend a little time with House. Maybe it was the sadist in her, that wanted her to experience and go through mais pain, but she knew if she weren’t there, she would regret it.
*
Foreman walked into the outer office, and was greeted por dismal expression from both Taub and Thirteen.
“House is going to be out for a few mais days. I guess being evil kenievil was too much of a temptation.”
He slammed down the file of the new case, and sat himself down at the head of the table.
Whilst the team huddled together after hearing of what was going on, Wilson was making his segundo visit of the dia to Houses room. When he walked inside, he was surprised not to see Cuddy there.
But that was pushed to the back of his mind when he noticed House was waking up, letting out a deep groan.
“Welcome back.” Wilson said in his sarcastic tone, before standing over him, as House’s hands rubbed his face.
“I feel like I’ve been…hit por a bus.” Wilson sighed as he checked House’s vitals.
“Technically you have, twice now I think.” House tried to sit himself up, before looking around the room.
“It’s just you?” House asked in a curious tone, as Wilson nodded yes.
“You want me to drive you home?” House checked his morphine, to see if he was getting enough before accepting Wilson’s offer with a nod.
“Sure, as long as you give me my Vicodin.” His glare was wide and serious, as Wilson reached into his lab casaco and handed him House’s Vicodin bottle.
“I’ll let you…change. You’re clothes are in the drawer.” Wilson gestured to House’s bedside mesa, tabela before he walked, with a stutter, outside the room.
*
House was pulling his jeans up, and as he reached for his cinto, correia and then turned back again, he noticed Cuddy standing at the doorway, as she closed the doors behind her.
“Glad to see you up.”
House replied with a smirk, which matched Cuddy’s unsympathetic look and body language; slanted slightly as she leaned on the wall, with her high heels crossed over one another.
“Where you worried?” House waited in anticipation for an answer, although not for any vain reasons, he was genuinely asking if she cared for him.
Cuddy looked down, before she folded her arms and stood straight.
“I think Wilson was mais worried.” House nodded before he went back to fastening his cinto, correia buckle, unaware of Cuddy’s facial expression of worry as he did so.
“Do you need anything?” Cuddy wasn’t speaking through her emotions; she had detached her emotional self from her work self a long time ago.
“Oh I dunno, maybe a couple of days off; with a customary free ‘script for Vicodin.”
Cuddy smiled at his pathetic attempt to score mais drugs, since his morphine was wearing off.
Walking seductively towards him, she caught House’s eye. Reaching out to his bruises and stitches on his face; she lightly stroked them, turning his cheek slightly to get a better look.
“There’s still some grit in there.” House turned his head back to face Cuddy, her face almost within an inch of his.
“You should get that looked at.” Her voice was quivering, underneath the weight of her emotions, as House looked back into her eyes.
Pausing for a moment, in the light of the setting sun behind them. House could feel Cuddy’s hand slipping away, but he caught it before it dropped, holding it despite knowing that Cuddy was afraid someone might see them.
“House.” She whispered as quiet as a mouse.
House let her hand go, before she stepped away from him. Cuddy flinched slightly as she looked out onto the floor of the ward outside.
Without looking behind, at House, she walked back out the room, and back to her failsafe: her job, and her work.
