Hush Part Three
Argh!
Part three up and running (or rather...limping)
Wouldn't have posted this if I hadn't spent the last four hours up the pub...but there you go!
As uncomfortable as the journey to the car had been, it didn’t get any better when he was crudely thrown onto the backseat. He grunted painfully as he landed on his bare stomach; the mishmash of various tool bags, gas cans and his own limbs, making his entry all the more agonising. Through the dark haze that danced in front of his vision, he could vaguely hear Paula’s footsteps trailing up to the car; she was obviously coming along for the ride.
With strength he didn’t know he still had in him, House managed to pull his legs up in time to ensure they weren’t simply trapped in the car door by his new found bosom-buddy, Pete. He groaned wearily, knowing full well that he was being ignored by both Pete and Paula as they settled into the front seats. His first coherent thought was that he should keep his legs up to aid his meagre blood flow; his right leg wouldn’t tolerate further movement, so this could be the last chance he’d have to actively do something to prevent himself from passing out.
Taking in the dusty back seat smell, he found his headache on the increase, especially with the additional strong smell of gas combined with strong cologne that did nothing to eliminate the overpowering stench of the driver. ‘Trust Stinky-Pete to use his car as some sort of run around pimp-mobile’ he thought, dimly aware of the well-worn engine firing up.
House lay immobile as the car pulled away from the kerb; he languidly listened to the tense conversation coming from the front as driver and navigator argued over his well-being...or otherwise lack of. His pounding headache was receding slightly; although, he knew that really, it wasn’t a good sign.
“We can take him to Edison, right?” Paula’s question brought her a look of annoyance from Pete; ‘Obviously not…’ House thought indolently, fighting to keep his eyes on the couple in front. In his mind, if he could keep focus on something -anything- he’d be able to stay conscious long enough to call Wilson from wherever these idiots were planning on dumping him. He was alarmed to feel the car speed up as it headed out of town; they didn’t seem to want to dump him anywhere close… ‘Oh great.’
“We’ll take him out west a bit.” Pete’s growling voice cut through the tense atmosphere; the car swerved slightly as he attempted to retrieve a packet of smokes from deep within his pocket.
“He doesn’t look too good” Paula stated, watching the patient wincing in the reflection of the mirror in her sun visor. “Can’t you just drop him off somewhere a little closer?” House couldn’t be sure if she was genuinely concerned, or if she had another appointment she was keen to keep back home. He didn’t particularly care, as long as she was trying to have him dumped closer to home; ‘closer to my team.’
Pete huffed, clearly annoyed with his navigators lack of malice. “We drop him closer; we get caught - so feel free to keep him alive ‘till we get past Easton” he spat, fiddling around with a broken lighter in one hand, and steering with the other.
Paula gave him an incredulous stare as he successfully lit his cigarette; she shot House a few more worried looks in her mirror before nimbly climbing over the seat into the back to join him.
“Jesus, you’re freezing” she whispered, swiftly pulling her coat off and draping it over his shoulder. He couldn’t deny that the warmth felt good, and it stopped the shivering to some extent. The smell of her musk hit him hard, and he was instantly reminded of their introduction just an hour earlier; to him, it felt as though days had gone by since then.
“We’re getting you to a hospital; just hang in there…” she trailed off when Pete’s snort of cruel amusement broke through her calm encouragement; she was seriously regretting bringing him into this mess. ‘Maybe you could have sorted this out yourself…’
Cold air suddenly whooshed through the car as Pete lowered his window; the dangers of smoking in the fuel-intoxicated car apparently outweighing the risk of exposure to its occupants. The smack of coolness over House’s face seemed to wake him up a little; he decided he needed to play the sympathy card again and plead with his guilty guardian, Paula.
“I need…” he choked, unable to make himself heard above the howling of the wind. He grabbed Paula’s wrist with his own, shocking her with the action and the coldness of his skin against her own; it certainly did the trick at catching her attention. She leaned forward, keeping her eyes locked onto his. “I need Wilson” he mouthed, knowing he didn’t have the energy to raise his voice above the deafening noise as Pete put his foot down and the car sped up. Paula frowned as he continued slowly, simply repeating what he’d requested in his bedroom in the vain hope that she’d remember. “Princeton Plainsboro…Doctor Wilson.”
She glanced to the grouchy driver, seeing he was on the last drags of his fag - ‘not long ‘til he discards it and closes the window’ she thought; seeing her only opportunity, she leant forward and hurriedly whispered in House’s ear. “I’ll call him - I promise” she leant back just as quickly, as Pete closed his window and restored the car back into near-silence.
“He dead yet?” Pete asked casually, glancing in his rear-view mirror; he was starting to get a little annoyed with how close his member of staff seemed to be getting to ‘the burden’.
Paula scowled and turned to face him; “Not yet” she replied, trying to keep a level tone.
“Then get your skinny butt back in the front; don’t want to be pulled ‘cos you’re messing about in the back, do I?”
Paula sighed and pulled herself through to the front, though not before giving House’s shoulder a quick squeeze. ‘Maybe she was worth the tip after all’ he mused, gasping as his heart decided to palpitate uncontrollably within his chest in an attempt at pumping the blood through more efficiently. “Fuck” he groaned as he waited for it to pass; ‘at least your heart has more fight left in it than the rest of you’ he thought miserably, squinting as various illuminated signs over the highway filled the car with strong, artificial light.
To plunge House deeper into despair, Pete decided to fumble around with the radio and land on the worst R&B station in the history of music. Hearing his passenger’s discomfort to his choice in music, by way of a groan, Pete turned the music up with a malevolent chuckle. His amusement from this impromptu road trip would have to come from torturing the helpless bastard who was the reason for the unscheduled journey; after all, it was his fault he’d been dragged out of bed, it was also his fault he’d been forced to use his fuel to take the joker to hospital.
After several speaker shuddering versions of songs that sounded remarkably like recycled classic rock tracks, Pete seemed to grow tired of the mundane station and switched off abruptly, allowing a small measure of relief wash over House.
“How far is it?” Paula asked after a while, voicing the very question that House’s mind had been screaming for the past twenty minutes as he struggled to grasp hold of consciousness…and his sanity.
“I’ll drop him off at the next hospital if it makes you happy” Pete replied, soon pulling off the highway and heading towards lifeless streets; apparently he now felt far enough away to be safe from the suspicion of the local cops. They shot past a school, which was shortly followed by a signpost with a red ‘ER’ sign attached to it. Within seconds they passed a sign which read Warren Hospital: Experienced, caring, close to home…‘Not that close to home.’
Paula twisted in her seat to take a closer look at her patient; he wasn’t looking good at all. She distinctly saw the gleam of sweat covering his face and neck as they passed under the flickering street lamps; she imagined the rest of his covered body was under the same sheen. ‘So much for keeping him warm with your coat’ she thought regretfully. His skin was beginning to take a ghostly grey pallor and the anticipated arrival of the ER doors at ‘Warren hospital’ couldn’t come quick enough.
They pulled up in the parking lot, out of the way of other traffic and keeping close to the bushes. This wasn’t the first time Pete had ‘dropped’ somebody off at a hospital.
“Get in there and tell them your boyfriend collapsed” Pete ordered sharply, tugging his own door open and stepping out of the car, yet leaving the engine running.
“Hey” House gasped urgently, seeing that this would be his only chance to get some kind of message to Wilson. Paula’s eyes snapped to his, as she hesitated in opening her own door. “Tell them…my name’s…Barrett…Joseph Barrett” he grimaced, another palpitation followed by a brief stabbing pain in his head, cutting him short on any explanation he may have had left in him.
He hoped that Wilson would recognise the name and the urgency in which he was needed at this hospital; House was relying on Paula to get him help, and fast. As soon as they tested him for drugs, all kinds of ‘Psychiatric suicide bells’ would be ringing; House would be lucky if he got out of this in one piece; avoiding being committed or arrested would be an added bonus. All the more reason he wanted to be Joseph Barrett, right now, and not Gregory House!
Paula jumped as Pete swung her door open. “Anytime today will be fine” he snarled agitatedly under his breath; “preferably before someone catches our plates” he added.
Paula hurried out of the car and made a convincing job of jogging worriedly towards the ER entrance; her mind repeating over and over, with every step - Doctor Wilson, Princeton Plainsboro, Joseph Barrett. Doctor Wilson, Princeton Plainsboro, Joseph Barrett.
She let her eyes well up slightly, which wasn’t too difficult; the only thing she really wanted to do now was loath in some serious self pity - especially after her particularly shitty night. ‘Keep it together; gotta do this for him first - can’t let fucking Pete ruin someone else’s life’ she thought determinedly, knowing how bad this would look for the poor doctor who’d made the mistake of calling the agency shortly before collapsing in agony.
She didn’t know a lot about the establishment in which he worked; but she was sure the use of hookers would be frowned upon, which just left the poor guy to try and explain how he’d ended up in a hospital 60 miles away after a quiet night in by himself…‘he’d be sanctioned under the mental health act for sure’ she decided as she burst through the doors to the ER.
“Please help me!” she yelled breathlessly to a young, petite nurse standing by a coffee machine; “It’s my boyfriend - he just collapsed! He’s in my car…” she gave a good, solid performance, surprising even herself. ‘Maybe you’re more worried than you think…’
The nurse gave her one look, abandoned her coffee and grabbed a nearby wheelchair. As they swiftly made their way over the parking lot, Paula could see Pete with his hands under her patient’s arms, waiting for his cue to pull him out of the car. ‘Wait for it’ she thought desperately, not finding it easy to run particularly fast in her boots.
“Right,” the nurse stated as they closed the gap between themselves and the car; “what’s his name?”
“Joseph,” Paula replied eagerly, pleased that they were still out of earshot from Pete, who wouldn’t take kindly to information that may link them to back home; “Joseph Barrett.”
They approached the car; with one swift movement, Pete dragged House’s motionless body from the vehicle and onto the cold, hard car park, placing the upper half of his body in the nurse’s arms as she dropped down to examine him. He then returned to the car and motioned, silently, for Paula to follow; he’d effectively trapped the unsuspecting nurse under her patient, but Paula could hardly argue that he hadn’t gotten the guy some help.
“Joseph” the nurse called in a breathless, yet urgent, tone. “Can you hear me?” House didn’t respond right away, his head was swimming from the cold that came from losing Paula’s coat and finding himself on cold tarmac, semi-naked and soaked in sweat.
When he finally replied with a small grunt, the nurse’s attention was stolen away by the sound of Paula jumping into the car and the slight screech of tyres as the car sped away. The nurse looked astonished for a moment before catching sight of an EMT wandering across the lot.
“I need some help over here - now!” she called, just as the patient slumped forwards in her arms…
TBC…
Part three up and running (or rather...limping)
Wouldn't have posted this if I hadn't spent the last four hours up the pub...but there you go!
As uncomfortable as the journey to the car had been, it didn’t get any better when he was crudely thrown onto the backseat. He grunted painfully as he landed on his bare stomach; the mishmash of various tool bags, gas cans and his own limbs, making his entry all the more agonising. Through the dark haze that danced in front of his vision, he could vaguely hear Paula’s footsteps trailing up to the car; she was obviously coming along for the ride.
With strength he didn’t know he still had in him, House managed to pull his legs up in time to ensure they weren’t simply trapped in the car door by his new found bosom-buddy, Pete. He groaned wearily, knowing full well that he was being ignored by both Pete and Paula as they settled into the front seats. His first coherent thought was that he should keep his legs up to aid his meagre blood flow; his right leg wouldn’t tolerate further movement, so this could be the last chance he’d have to actively do something to prevent himself from passing out.
Taking in the dusty back seat smell, he found his headache on the increase, especially with the additional strong smell of gas combined with strong cologne that did nothing to eliminate the overpowering stench of the driver. ‘Trust Stinky-Pete to use his car as some sort of run around pimp-mobile’ he thought, dimly aware of the well-worn engine firing up.
House lay immobile as the car pulled away from the kerb; he languidly listened to the tense conversation coming from the front as driver and navigator argued over his well-being...or otherwise lack of. His pounding headache was receding slightly; although, he knew that really, it wasn’t a good sign.
“We can take him to Edison, right?” Paula’s question brought her a look of annoyance from Pete; ‘Obviously not…’ House thought indolently, fighting to keep his eyes on the couple in front. In his mind, if he could keep focus on something -anything- he’d be able to stay conscious long enough to call Wilson from wherever these idiots were planning on dumping him. He was alarmed to feel the car speed up as it headed out of town; they didn’t seem to want to dump him anywhere close… ‘Oh great.’
“We’ll take him out west a bit.” Pete’s growling voice cut through the tense atmosphere; the car swerved slightly as he attempted to retrieve a packet of smokes from deep within his pocket.
“He doesn’t look too good” Paula stated, watching the patient wincing in the reflection of the mirror in her sun visor. “Can’t you just drop him off somewhere a little closer?” House couldn’t be sure if she was genuinely concerned, or if she had another appointment she was keen to keep back home. He didn’t particularly care, as long as she was trying to have him dumped closer to home; ‘closer to my team.’
Pete huffed, clearly annoyed with his navigators lack of malice. “We drop him closer; we get caught - so feel free to keep him alive ‘till we get past Easton” he spat, fiddling around with a broken lighter in one hand, and steering with the other.
Paula gave him an incredulous stare as he successfully lit his cigarette; she shot House a few more worried looks in her mirror before nimbly climbing over the seat into the back to join him.
“Jesus, you’re freezing” she whispered, swiftly pulling her coat off and draping it over his shoulder. He couldn’t deny that the warmth felt good, and it stopped the shivering to some extent. The smell of her musk hit him hard, and he was instantly reminded of their introduction just an hour earlier; to him, it felt as though days had gone by since then.
“We’re getting you to a hospital; just hang in there…” she trailed off when Pete’s snort of cruel amusement broke through her calm encouragement; she was seriously regretting bringing him into this mess. ‘Maybe you could have sorted this out yourself…’
Cold air suddenly whooshed through the car as Pete lowered his window; the dangers of smoking in the fuel-intoxicated car apparently outweighing the risk of exposure to its occupants. The smack of coolness over House’s face seemed to wake him up a little; he decided he needed to play the sympathy card again and plead with his guilty guardian, Paula.
“I need…” he choked, unable to make himself heard above the howling of the wind. He grabbed Paula’s wrist with his own, shocking her with the action and the coldness of his skin against her own; it certainly did the trick at catching her attention. She leaned forward, keeping her eyes locked onto his. “I need Wilson” he mouthed, knowing he didn’t have the energy to raise his voice above the deafening noise as Pete put his foot down and the car sped up. Paula frowned as he continued slowly, simply repeating what he’d requested in his bedroom in the vain hope that she’d remember. “Princeton Plainsboro…Doctor Wilson.”
She glanced to the grouchy driver, seeing he was on the last drags of his fag - ‘not long ‘til he discards it and closes the window’ she thought; seeing her only opportunity, she leant forward and hurriedly whispered in House’s ear. “I’ll call him - I promise” she leant back just as quickly, as Pete closed his window and restored the car back into near-silence.
“He dead yet?” Pete asked casually, glancing in his rear-view mirror; he was starting to get a little annoyed with how close his member of staff seemed to be getting to ‘the burden’.
Paula scowled and turned to face him; “Not yet” she replied, trying to keep a level tone.
“Then get your skinny butt back in the front; don’t want to be pulled ‘cos you’re messing about in the back, do I?”
Paula sighed and pulled herself through to the front, though not before giving House’s shoulder a quick squeeze. ‘Maybe she was worth the tip after all’ he mused, gasping as his heart decided to palpitate uncontrollably within his chest in an attempt at pumping the blood through more efficiently. “Fuck” he groaned as he waited for it to pass; ‘at least your heart has more fight left in it than the rest of you’ he thought miserably, squinting as various illuminated signs over the highway filled the car with strong, artificial light.
To plunge House deeper into despair, Pete decided to fumble around with the radio and land on the worst R&B station in the history of music. Hearing his passenger’s discomfort to his choice in music, by way of a groan, Pete turned the music up with a malevolent chuckle. His amusement from this impromptu road trip would have to come from torturing the helpless bastard who was the reason for the unscheduled journey; after all, it was his fault he’d been dragged out of bed, it was also his fault he’d been forced to use his fuel to take the joker to hospital.
After several speaker shuddering versions of songs that sounded remarkably like recycled classic rock tracks, Pete seemed to grow tired of the mundane station and switched off abruptly, allowing a small measure of relief wash over House.
“How far is it?” Paula asked after a while, voicing the very question that House’s mind had been screaming for the past twenty minutes as he struggled to grasp hold of consciousness…and his sanity.
“I’ll drop him off at the next hospital if it makes you happy” Pete replied, soon pulling off the highway and heading towards lifeless streets; apparently he now felt far enough away to be safe from the suspicion of the local cops. They shot past a school, which was shortly followed by a signpost with a red ‘ER’ sign attached to it. Within seconds they passed a sign which read Warren Hospital: Experienced, caring, close to home…‘Not that close to home.’
Paula twisted in her seat to take a closer look at her patient; he wasn’t looking good at all. She distinctly saw the gleam of sweat covering his face and neck as they passed under the flickering street lamps; she imagined the rest of his covered body was under the same sheen. ‘So much for keeping him warm with your coat’ she thought regretfully. His skin was beginning to take a ghostly grey pallor and the anticipated arrival of the ER doors at ‘Warren hospital’ couldn’t come quick enough.
They pulled up in the parking lot, out of the way of other traffic and keeping close to the bushes. This wasn’t the first time Pete had ‘dropped’ somebody off at a hospital.
“Get in there and tell them your boyfriend collapsed” Pete ordered sharply, tugging his own door open and stepping out of the car, yet leaving the engine running.
“Hey” House gasped urgently, seeing that this would be his only chance to get some kind of message to Wilson. Paula’s eyes snapped to his, as she hesitated in opening her own door. “Tell them…my name’s…Barrett…Joseph Barrett” he grimaced, another palpitation followed by a brief stabbing pain in his head, cutting him short on any explanation he may have had left in him.
He hoped that Wilson would recognise the name and the urgency in which he was needed at this hospital; House was relying on Paula to get him help, and fast. As soon as they tested him for drugs, all kinds of ‘Psychiatric suicide bells’ would be ringing; House would be lucky if he got out of this in one piece; avoiding being committed or arrested would be an added bonus. All the more reason he wanted to be Joseph Barrett, right now, and not Gregory House!
Paula jumped as Pete swung her door open. “Anytime today will be fine” he snarled agitatedly under his breath; “preferably before someone catches our plates” he added.
Paula hurried out of the car and made a convincing job of jogging worriedly towards the ER entrance; her mind repeating over and over, with every step - Doctor Wilson, Princeton Plainsboro, Joseph Barrett. Doctor Wilson, Princeton Plainsboro, Joseph Barrett.
She let her eyes well up slightly, which wasn’t too difficult; the only thing she really wanted to do now was loath in some serious self pity - especially after her particularly shitty night. ‘Keep it together; gotta do this for him first - can’t let fucking Pete ruin someone else’s life’ she thought determinedly, knowing how bad this would look for the poor doctor who’d made the mistake of calling the agency shortly before collapsing in agony.
She didn’t know a lot about the establishment in which he worked; but she was sure the use of hookers would be frowned upon, which just left the poor guy to try and explain how he’d ended up in a hospital 60 miles away after a quiet night in by himself…‘he’d be sanctioned under the mental health act for sure’ she decided as she burst through the doors to the ER.
“Please help me!” she yelled breathlessly to a young, petite nurse standing by a coffee machine; “It’s my boyfriend - he just collapsed! He’s in my car…” she gave a good, solid performance, surprising even herself. ‘Maybe you’re more worried than you think…’
The nurse gave her one look, abandoned her coffee and grabbed a nearby wheelchair. As they swiftly made their way over the parking lot, Paula could see Pete with his hands under her patient’s arms, waiting for his cue to pull him out of the car. ‘Wait for it’ she thought desperately, not finding it easy to run particularly fast in her boots.
“Right,” the nurse stated as they closed the gap between themselves and the car; “what’s his name?”
“Joseph,” Paula replied eagerly, pleased that they were still out of earshot from Pete, who wouldn’t take kindly to information that may link them to back home; “Joseph Barrett.”
They approached the car; with one swift movement, Pete dragged House’s motionless body from the vehicle and onto the cold, hard car park, placing the upper half of his body in the nurse’s arms as she dropped down to examine him. He then returned to the car and motioned, silently, for Paula to follow; he’d effectively trapped the unsuspecting nurse under her patient, but Paula could hardly argue that he hadn’t gotten the guy some help.
“Joseph” the nurse called in a breathless, yet urgent, tone. “Can you hear me?” House didn’t respond right away, his head was swimming from the cold that came from losing Paula’s coat and finding himself on cold tarmac, semi-naked and soaked in sweat.
When he finally replied with a small grunt, the nurse’s attention was stolen away by the sound of Paula jumping into the car and the slight screech of tyres as the car sped away. The nurse looked astonished for a moment before catching sight of an EMT wandering across the lot.
“I need some help over here - now!” she called, just as the patient slumped forwards in her arms…
TBC…