House was kicked back in his chair, tensed, waiting on his team to arrive. Twirling his cane round and round, feet up on the desk, he looked like he normally would look like. On the outside at least.
Only a dia after the funeral, and he was back, being the same son of a cadela, puta he would play out. A surprise to everyone. Everyone had tried convincing him to take a break from work for a while. They persisted, going from Wilson, to Cameron, Chase. And eventually once he team would arrive--they would continue the same thing.
But he dismissed all of them. He couldn't think straight at the moment, but he knew that if he stayed at home, allowing himself to be trapped with these thoughts for God knows how long, he would eventually go insane. So to keep himself distracted, he needed to be at work. But even there he could find no relief, seeing as his thoughts would spit out at him every five minutes--literally.
"So do you think we feel as guilty as Wilson?" Amber asked him. She was sitting on his recliner as she stared him down. She paused, and waited for him to answer but he forced himself not to, but she continued.
"I mean--he's the oncologist. He probably feels as guilty as we do. But then again--he wasn't dating her. He couldn't have seen the signs as early as we could've, right? Anyone could've spotted them. It doesn't take a great diagnostician like us to catch the signs right?" He again, didn't answer. She started to get frustrated.
"You might as well talk back. Otherwise, I'll be on your back all day."
"You'll be on my back no matter what I do." he retorted, obviously annoyed.
"Then you should respond. Because you can't do anything about it."
"Or I can ignore you completely, hoping to shove you in the back of my mind, where you belong."
"We both know I'm here for a reason. Aren't you just--a little curious to why I am?"
"Not even the slightest. Cool it, Wilson's coming."
"Oh right, you don't want to look crazy. I can still talk though right?" Wilson walked in casually, as House popped in his candy.
"I talked to Stacy." he spoke with a sigh.
"And--that benefits me how?" he asked sarcastically.
"She's just here to help." Wilson admitted.
"Of course she's here to help. Or--she just wants to get in your pants."
"She's staying here for a while. She--wants to help you cope with this."
"You weren't this attentive towards her at the viewing or the funeral, even the bar. What'd she say to you?"
"Nothing."
"So you both sat there for about fifteen minutes, doing absolutely nothing and she managed to convince you that, I needed help coping and that she's the right person to do so? Why, that's brilliant." he said sarcastically.
"She said nothing particular."
"He's ly-ing."
"Stop lying, just be straight with me."
"I am!"
"He's still ly-ing. her voice was taunting, even if it wasn't directed towards him.
"She's here for another reason. Mark?"
"She fighting with Mark?" he asked abruptly.
"Why would she--"
"He didn't give you a yes or a no."
"She's fighting with him. Right?"
"I..wouldn't say fight. A disagreement if you will."
"Disagreement. Odd choice of words."
"She's--she's claiming, that he's--"
"Affair."
"But that's not why she's back here."
"That one--isn't a lie."
"I believe that. Otherwise, she wouldn't have brought him along."
"She didn't want to bring him along."
"That's a lie. She did, but for--other reasons."
"She wanted to. She brought him, to plant the idea in my head that they're fine, and that she really did come here--for me. And Cuddy."
"So you wouldn't think that the only reason why she's here, is because she had a fight with Mark, and that she wanted to pay respects to Cuddy."
"Excuse me gentlemen?" a tall man in a black suit and red tie had walked in. He had his hair combed back, hazel eyes, a very masculine face with an apparent five o'clock shadow. He looked fairly professional just por the way he talked, walked, and even stood.
"Whose the stiff?"
"John Shepherd." he raised his hand out to give a friendly hand shake to Wilson.
"James Wilson."
"Head of oncology right?"
"Uh, yes."
"Then--you must be Greg." he then held his hand out for House, but he looked away and refrained from shaking his hand.
"It's House. Gregory House. I'd prefer House."
"That's fine, that's fine."
"He isn't the--"
"I'm the new administrator and dean, here at Princeton-Plainsbro."
"Oh crap."
"Oh. Well, it's a pleasure John." Wilson said meekly. He side glanced at House fairly quickly.
"So where you graduate from Shepherd?"
"John Hopkins. I just transferred from Miami General."
"That would explain the insane tan he's got."
"It's good to have you." Wilson said. He was the only one stringing the conversation with him. House paid attention elsewhere.
"Well, I'm just going 'round, greeting people, letting them know who I am so. I'll see you gents." he smiled, and walked out, leaving the two in silence. Suddenly, the team walked in to the office, and looked curiously at House.
"Who was that? And--why are you here?" Foreman asked.
"I'm here to do my job--"
"Right."
"And that, is our new boss."
---
"Please tell me we got something from the LP." House sarcastically begged to Foreman, Thirteen and Taub. His head was down on the escrivaninha, mesa as the three of them stood in a row before him. Amber stood close behind him on her knees.
"Nope. Clean. Meaning, it's not neurological." Foreman uttered.
"So, what are we going with--genetic, environmental or infection? Amber asked him.
"Taub, check the início for toxins, Foreman re-read through the history, check to see if we missed anything. Thirteen, run blood cultures, and get a tamborete, fezes sample." he uttered with annoyance. They all left for their duties as Amber walked throughout the room, pacing herself as she kept her conversation with House.
"You--obviously are being kept to yourself right now. You haven't even vented out your feelings to Wilson."
"I don't need to worry him about my juvenile feelings."
"Juvenile? You think killing us is juvenile? It's not juvenile it's worse than that. It's ridiculous. And if we told him, he couldn't blame us. He shouldn't be surprised that we're feeling this way. If, we let him know that we were feeling this way."
"They'll go away. Your part probably thought of them anyway."
"Of course not. Cue Vindaloo curry!" Stacy was walking towards the office when Amber proclaimed her presence. She wasn't in her usual clothes, she was casual, looking like she came for a social visit. Which it was.
"Can I come in?" she practically whispered at the door.
"Seriously? Okay--after, everything I've shot at you, you still don't feel the nerve to cadela, puta at me?"
"You're in pain." she said walking in. Then she took a assento in front of him so they could be eye to eye.
"I'm always in pain."
"I know. But you're in also in a different level of pain."
"What. Are you going to tell me that despite the fact my hearts been shredded into a million pieces, that I'll be okay? If anything, I'm begging, don't pull that psycho-analyzing crap on me. Only Wilson can do that--and in much better form than what I just presented."
"Why are you at work?" she spoke calmly. He sighed and looked the other way.
"You need a break House. She--would want you to take a break."
"You know what exactly what would happen if I did that. And in all scenarios, it still leaves me miserable so."
"You think you'll be any better at work?"
"It takes my mind off of it."
"Right. Trying to save someone's life within a week always helps me relax."
"Hey--leave me the sarcasm. And I heard."
"Don't do it.
"You heard what?"
"What else." he said simply.
"God! He told you?" her voice had raised.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. I got it out of him, okay? Don't go ripping what's left of his balls off okay?"
"Stop changing the subject. I'm fine." she defended.
"Knew that would backfire."
"You should've stayed at home." she continued again.
"I'm fine."
"Now, she knows we're lying."
"You're leaving me in the dark. What's going on?"
"Nothing." he stayed refined, but his voice had raised. She just looked at him and got up to leave.
"Stacy," he whispered. She stopped.
"Don't do it. You know that if you tell her--she'll slip it to Wilson. And you know what we'll have to pay for once he collaborates on what to do--"
"What Greg?" he hesitated to answer. His mouth was left open, almost dangling, and daring to confess. But he silenced himself. Pulling the seguinte thing that came to mind as a diversion.
"I'm sorry about Mark." she gave a nod, and walked out.
"Thank God."
"She'll find out eventually," he admitted.
"You can't tell her."
"I know I can't. But someone's bound to--"
"They won't see them, if you don't show them. You have self control--I doubt you'd show those off. And besides, I'm sure we can come up with a witty excuse."
"Excuses get past everyone else. Wilson has hunches. He'll know to pull up the sleeve."
"Well. Until he gets his hunch--no one has to know, right?"
Only a dia after the funeral, and he was back, being the same son of a cadela, puta he would play out. A surprise to everyone. Everyone had tried convincing him to take a break from work for a while. They persisted, going from Wilson, to Cameron, Chase. And eventually once he team would arrive--they would continue the same thing.
But he dismissed all of them. He couldn't think straight at the moment, but he knew that if he stayed at home, allowing himself to be trapped with these thoughts for God knows how long, he would eventually go insane. So to keep himself distracted, he needed to be at work. But even there he could find no relief, seeing as his thoughts would spit out at him every five minutes--literally.
"So do you think we feel as guilty as Wilson?" Amber asked him. She was sitting on his recliner as she stared him down. She paused, and waited for him to answer but he forced himself not to, but she continued.
"I mean--he's the oncologist. He probably feels as guilty as we do. But then again--he wasn't dating her. He couldn't have seen the signs as early as we could've, right? Anyone could've spotted them. It doesn't take a great diagnostician like us to catch the signs right?" He again, didn't answer. She started to get frustrated.
"You might as well talk back. Otherwise, I'll be on your back all day."
"You'll be on my back no matter what I do." he retorted, obviously annoyed.
"Then you should respond. Because you can't do anything about it."
"Or I can ignore you completely, hoping to shove you in the back of my mind, where you belong."
"We both know I'm here for a reason. Aren't you just--a little curious to why I am?"
"Not even the slightest. Cool it, Wilson's coming."
"Oh right, you don't want to look crazy. I can still talk though right?" Wilson walked in casually, as House popped in his candy.
"I talked to Stacy." he spoke with a sigh.
"And--that benefits me how?" he asked sarcastically.
"She's just here to help." Wilson admitted.
"Of course she's here to help. Or--she just wants to get in your pants."
"She's staying here for a while. She--wants to help you cope with this."
"You weren't this attentive towards her at the viewing or the funeral, even the bar. What'd she say to you?"
"Nothing."
"So you both sat there for about fifteen minutes, doing absolutely nothing and she managed to convince you that, I needed help coping and that she's the right person to do so? Why, that's brilliant." he said sarcastically.
"She said nothing particular."
"He's ly-ing."
"Stop lying, just be straight with me."
"I am!"
"He's still ly-ing. her voice was taunting, even if it wasn't directed towards him.
"She's here for another reason. Mark?"
"She fighting with Mark?" he asked abruptly.
"Why would she--"
"He didn't give you a yes or a no."
"She's fighting with him. Right?"
"I..wouldn't say fight. A disagreement if you will."
"Disagreement. Odd choice of words."
"She's--she's claiming, that he's--"
"Affair."
"But that's not why she's back here."
"That one--isn't a lie."
"I believe that. Otherwise, she wouldn't have brought him along."
"She didn't want to bring him along."
"That's a lie. She did, but for--other reasons."
"She wanted to. She brought him, to plant the idea in my head that they're fine, and that she really did come here--for me. And Cuddy."
"So you wouldn't think that the only reason why she's here, is because she had a fight with Mark, and that she wanted to pay respects to Cuddy."
"Excuse me gentlemen?" a tall man in a black suit and red tie had walked in. He had his hair combed back, hazel eyes, a very masculine face with an apparent five o'clock shadow. He looked fairly professional just por the way he talked, walked, and even stood.
"Whose the stiff?"
"John Shepherd." he raised his hand out to give a friendly hand shake to Wilson.
"James Wilson."
"Head of oncology right?"
"Uh, yes."
"Then--you must be Greg." he then held his hand out for House, but he looked away and refrained from shaking his hand.
"It's House. Gregory House. I'd prefer House."
"That's fine, that's fine."
"He isn't the--"
"I'm the new administrator and dean, here at Princeton-Plainsbro."
"Oh crap."
"Oh. Well, it's a pleasure John." Wilson said meekly. He side glanced at House fairly quickly.
"So where you graduate from Shepherd?"
"John Hopkins. I just transferred from Miami General."
"That would explain the insane tan he's got."
"It's good to have you." Wilson said. He was the only one stringing the conversation with him. House paid attention elsewhere.
"Well, I'm just going 'round, greeting people, letting them know who I am so. I'll see you gents." he smiled, and walked out, leaving the two in silence. Suddenly, the team walked in to the office, and looked curiously at House.
"Who was that? And--why are you here?" Foreman asked.
"I'm here to do my job--"
"Right."
"And that, is our new boss."
---
"Please tell me we got something from the LP." House sarcastically begged to Foreman, Thirteen and Taub. His head was down on the escrivaninha, mesa as the three of them stood in a row before him. Amber stood close behind him on her knees.
"Nope. Clean. Meaning, it's not neurological." Foreman uttered.
"So, what are we going with--genetic, environmental or infection? Amber asked him.
"Taub, check the início for toxins, Foreman re-read through the history, check to see if we missed anything. Thirteen, run blood cultures, and get a tamborete, fezes sample." he uttered with annoyance. They all left for their duties as Amber walked throughout the room, pacing herself as she kept her conversation with House.
"You--obviously are being kept to yourself right now. You haven't even vented out your feelings to Wilson."
"I don't need to worry him about my juvenile feelings."
"Juvenile? You think killing us is juvenile? It's not juvenile it's worse than that. It's ridiculous. And if we told him, he couldn't blame us. He shouldn't be surprised that we're feeling this way. If, we let him know that we were feeling this way."
"They'll go away. Your part probably thought of them anyway."
"Of course not. Cue Vindaloo curry!" Stacy was walking towards the office when Amber proclaimed her presence. She wasn't in her usual clothes, she was casual, looking like she came for a social visit. Which it was.
"Can I come in?" she practically whispered at the door.
"Seriously? Okay--after, everything I've shot at you, you still don't feel the nerve to cadela, puta at me?"
"You're in pain." she said walking in. Then she took a assento in front of him so they could be eye to eye.
"I'm always in pain."
"I know. But you're in also in a different level of pain."
"What. Are you going to tell me that despite the fact my hearts been shredded into a million pieces, that I'll be okay? If anything, I'm begging, don't pull that psycho-analyzing crap on me. Only Wilson can do that--and in much better form than what I just presented."
"Why are you at work?" she spoke calmly. He sighed and looked the other way.
"You need a break House. She--would want you to take a break."
"You know what exactly what would happen if I did that. And in all scenarios, it still leaves me miserable so."
"You think you'll be any better at work?"
"It takes my mind off of it."
"Right. Trying to save someone's life within a week always helps me relax."
"Hey--leave me the sarcasm. And I heard."
"Don't do it.
"You heard what?"
"What else." he said simply.
"God! He told you?" her voice had raised.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. I got it out of him, okay? Don't go ripping what's left of his balls off okay?"
"Stop changing the subject. I'm fine." she defended.
"Knew that would backfire."
"You should've stayed at home." she continued again.
"I'm fine."
"Now, she knows we're lying."
"You're leaving me in the dark. What's going on?"
"Nothing." he stayed refined, but his voice had raised. She just looked at him and got up to leave.
"Stacy," he whispered. She stopped.
"Don't do it. You know that if you tell her--she'll slip it to Wilson. And you know what we'll have to pay for once he collaborates on what to do--"
"What Greg?" he hesitated to answer. His mouth was left open, almost dangling, and daring to confess. But he silenced himself. Pulling the seguinte thing that came to mind as a diversion.
"I'm sorry about Mark." she gave a nod, and walked out.
"Thank God."
"She'll find out eventually," he admitted.
"You can't tell her."
"I know I can't. But someone's bound to--"
"They won't see them, if you don't show them. You have self control--I doubt you'd show those off. And besides, I'm sure we can come up with a witty excuse."
"Excuses get past everyone else. Wilson has hunches. He'll know to pull up the sleeve."
"Well. Until he gets his hunch--no one has to know, right?"
I was leitura up on opiate withdrawal and apparently you can go through withdrawal not just to stop taking the drug, Vicodin in House’s case, but to reduce the amount you’re taking.
So in House’s case, like Wilson said; his Vicodin levels where way to high and so the only option was to let his body recover and reduce it’s need for that amount it got everyday.
Therefore, the seguinte morning when he was seemingly better; it was because of the extreme cold-turkeyness that House used to reduce his levels of Vicodin in order for his hallucination of Amber to go away. So I don’t think it was a hallucination, because he hasn’t quit Vicodin, he has only reduced the amount he takes within the o espaço of a horrible 24 hora detox. His body no longer craves the Vicodin every hora or so like before.
Short and simple :)
So in House’s case, like Wilson said; his Vicodin levels where way to high and so the only option was to let his body recover and reduce it’s need for that amount it got everyday.
Therefore, the seguinte morning when he was seemingly better; it was because of the extreme cold-turkeyness that House used to reduce his levels of Vicodin in order for his hallucination of Amber to go away. So I don’t think it was a hallucination, because he hasn’t quit Vicodin, he has only reduced the amount he takes within the o espaço of a horrible 24 hora detox. His body no longer craves the Vicodin every hora or so like before.
Short and simple :)