Fic: Dr House? (House/Wilson implied) Average (Prompt 67: Touch)
Title: Dr House?
Characters: House, Wilson, featuring Cameron, Chase, Foreman
Challenges: housefic50 9: Puzzle, coclaim100 67: Touch
Rating: Average
Warnings: AU. H/W implied.
Feedback: Appreciated muchly.
"Dr House?" He heard his name, and he knew it was his name, and he knew it was Dr Cameron saying his name. He knew she was talking to him, and knew he should respond to her, but he didn't know how. He opened his mouth, but his jaw merely worked on the hinge, as if he'd forgotten how to speak. He looked at Cameron, he knew where she was, but he couldn't see, could only stare blankly because his eyes had forgotten how to see.
"Dr House?" Cameron again. At least he thought it was Cameron. But then he wasn't sure who Cameron was. Or even what Cameron was. Cameron. Cameron, Cameron, Cameron.
He felt hands on his face, fingers crawling over his skin. So far away. He groped, reaching awkwardly for her wrist. His fingers closed around air, and she, Cameron, was saying his name again. Saying "Dr House" because that was his name, only it wasn't his name because his name was Greg. Gregory, his grandmother always called him Gregory. Not Greg. Gregory had been her last name, and Gregory was his name. Her only grandson. He was his parent's only son too.
~*~*~*~*~*~
His leg had been bothering him all day. Up in the thigh. The muscle felt strained but not strained. At least not a typical strain. Not quite like anything he'd ever felt before. He didn't remember straining it. Maybe out back playing basketball with James. Maybe last night in bed with James.
Or maybe he was just imagining things, trying to justify what he couldn't explain. That was possible too. The only thing worse than leg pain as unexplained leg pain. But maybe it wasn't leg pain at all. Maybe the real pain was somewhere else, and simply manifesting in his leg. That was always possible.
He didn't like puzzles he couldn't solve. Anomalies bugged him. He needed an answer. Or at least resolution. After a couple hours, he'd have settled happily if the pain went away. It was only getting worse. Or he thought it was getting worse. Hard to tell, really. He couldn't be objective with his own damn leg.
Morphine was probably a bit much, but it was handy and accessible. If Cameron would just shut up…Nah. He really didn't care. He wasn't listening to her prattle anyway. She tended to get wordy. Especially when the other two didn't argue. Or even when they did. She liked to talk. He suspected she liked to hear the sound of her own voice. She had a nice voice. Soothing, most of the time. Sometimes annoying. Really just depended on his mood.
"Dr House?" He blinked, in an attempt to clear his head. In a matter of seconds, everything in his line of vision dissolved into blackness. He could hear her talking. He could feel her touching him. He could hear the other two, Chase and Foreman, scrambling to their feet.
"Where are you going?" Foreman barked. The words were drawn out. Maybe he was talking through a hollow tube. Like a wrapping paper roll.
"Dr Wilson," Chase answered, just as far-away.
And then there was nothing.
~*~*~*~*~
The hands that touched him now were not Cameron's hands. Not unless her hands grew twice their size, and rough. Not calloused. Just rough, from years of work.
He bid one eye to open. Matted, heavy, uncooperative. He insisted. Finally the lid obeyed, though his vision was far from synchronized. He could see, though there seemed to be a grey film over his iris.
He could see enough. He could see James.
He felt his tongue seek to wet his lips. Had he been sucking on cotton? James moved, and the movement made him dizzy. His half open eye shut itself to protect him. He wasn't sure he could survive motion sickness.
James didn't speak. Probably knew better. He slid his hand down to grasp Greg's hand, and give it a gentle squeeze. Greg knew trying to talk would be exhaustive. He simply squeezed James' hand in response. He didn't need his eyes open to see the expression on James' face, a delicate balance of relief and fear. Maybe a slightly trembling smile, the one he used to reassure his patients. The one he used to try to reassure himself.
He felt himself drifting. He was a piece of driftwood, bobbing recklessly against the shore. No control over his own destiny. He was caught up in the tide, and he had no choice but to ride the waves where they took him.
When he woke again, James was still there. Always there. Ever diligent. What about his wife? What was her name? Jilly? Joanie? Julie? Something with a J. Both his brothers were J's too. Whole damn family started with J. It was a code or something. He'd have to change his name to Jeg. Jreg? Jr didn't exist in the English language except as an abbreviated form of junior. Clever, that.
"Feeling better?" He could feel James' hand still holding his. Still. Even though he'd been drifting, Greg knew he'd never let go. James never let go. He opened his eyes. Both of them. The grey film was still there. He couldn't see anything past James' shoulder. Just James.
Characters: House, Wilson, featuring Cameron, Chase, Foreman
Challenges: housefic50 9: Puzzle, coclaim100 67: Touch
Rating: Average
Warnings: AU. H/W implied.
Feedback: Appreciated muchly.
"Dr House?" He heard his name, and he knew it was his name, and he knew it was Dr Cameron saying his name. He knew she was talking to him, and knew he should respond to her, but he didn't know how. He opened his mouth, but his jaw merely worked on the hinge, as if he'd forgotten how to speak. He looked at Cameron, he knew where she was, but he couldn't see, could only stare blankly because his eyes had forgotten how to see.
"Dr House?" Cameron again. At least he thought it was Cameron. But then he wasn't sure who Cameron was. Or even what Cameron was. Cameron. Cameron, Cameron, Cameron.
He felt hands on his face, fingers crawling over his skin. So far away. He groped, reaching awkwardly for her wrist. His fingers closed around air, and she, Cameron, was saying his name again. Saying "Dr House" because that was his name, only it wasn't his name because his name was Greg. Gregory, his grandmother always called him Gregory. Not Greg. Gregory had been her last name, and Gregory was his name. Her only grandson. He was his parent's only son too.
~*~*~*~*~*~
His leg had been bothering him all day. Up in the thigh. The muscle felt strained but not strained. At least not a typical strain. Not quite like anything he'd ever felt before. He didn't remember straining it. Maybe out back playing basketball with James. Maybe last night in bed with James.
Or maybe he was just imagining things, trying to justify what he couldn't explain. That was possible too. The only thing worse than leg pain as unexplained leg pain. But maybe it wasn't leg pain at all. Maybe the real pain was somewhere else, and simply manifesting in his leg. That was always possible.
He didn't like puzzles he couldn't solve. Anomalies bugged him. He needed an answer. Or at least resolution. After a couple hours, he'd have settled happily if the pain went away. It was only getting worse. Or he thought it was getting worse. Hard to tell, really. He couldn't be objective with his own damn leg.
Morphine was probably a bit much, but it was handy and accessible. If Cameron would just shut up…Nah. He really didn't care. He wasn't listening to her prattle anyway. She tended to get wordy. Especially when the other two didn't argue. Or even when they did. She liked to talk. He suspected she liked to hear the sound of her own voice. She had a nice voice. Soothing, most of the time. Sometimes annoying. Really just depended on his mood.
"Dr House?" He blinked, in an attempt to clear his head. In a matter of seconds, everything in his line of vision dissolved into blackness. He could hear her talking. He could feel her touching him. He could hear the other two, Chase and Foreman, scrambling to their feet.
"Where are you going?" Foreman barked. The words were drawn out. Maybe he was talking through a hollow tube. Like a wrapping paper roll.
"Dr Wilson," Chase answered, just as far-away.
And then there was nothing.
~*~*~*~*~
The hands that touched him now were not Cameron's hands. Not unless her hands grew twice their size, and rough. Not calloused. Just rough, from years of work.
He bid one eye to open. Matted, heavy, uncooperative. He insisted. Finally the lid obeyed, though his vision was far from synchronized. He could see, though there seemed to be a grey film over his iris.
He could see enough. He could see James.
He felt his tongue seek to wet his lips. Had he been sucking on cotton? James moved, and the movement made him dizzy. His half open eye shut itself to protect him. He wasn't sure he could survive motion sickness.
James didn't speak. Probably knew better. He slid his hand down to grasp Greg's hand, and give it a gentle squeeze. Greg knew trying to talk would be exhaustive. He simply squeezed James' hand in response. He didn't need his eyes open to see the expression on James' face, a delicate balance of relief and fear. Maybe a slightly trembling smile, the one he used to reassure his patients. The one he used to try to reassure himself.
He felt himself drifting. He was a piece of driftwood, bobbing recklessly against the shore. No control over his own destiny. He was caught up in the tide, and he had no choice but to ride the waves where they took him.
When he woke again, James was still there. Always there. Ever diligent. What about his wife? What was her name? Jilly? Joanie? Julie? Something with a J. Both his brothers were J's too. Whole damn family started with J. It was a code or something. He'd have to change his name to Jeg. Jreg? Jr didn't exist in the English language except as an abbreviated form of junior. Clever, that.
"Feeling better?" He could feel James' hand still holding his. Still. Even though he'd been drifting, Greg knew he'd never let go. James never let go. He opened his eyes. Both of them. The grey film was still there. He couldn't see anything past James' shoulder. Just James.