Aug 15, 2009 23:53
"House."
Awake.
His eyes opened slowly, the heavy effects of sedation and the grogginess that came with it left House feeling somewhat punch-drunk, as though he'd slip right back out of consciousness again at any moment. It took him a number of seconds to realize where he was, who was in the room with him, and most importantly, what the hell had happened. Cuddy was still somehow sleeping soundly in the uncomfortable looking armchair pulled next to the hospital bed, her hand curled protectively around his, and the glass door to the ICU remained open as Wilson's figure stood, lost, staring at House through defeated eyes.
Amber was dead.
And it was his fault.
"...House."
He didn't... No, no. It wasn't as though he did it intentionally. He asked Amber to find Wilson. Find Wilson, he said. I'm drunk. Find Wilson and tell him to come get me. She chose to pick him up. She chose to get on the bus with him. She chose to take the flu pills.
Neither of them chose to get blindsided by a garbage truck. Neither of them chose destroyed kidneys, Amantadine poisoning, a damaged heart, and head trauma.
If House had a choice, he would be the one overdosed on Amantadine. It would be him with the wrecked kidneys. It would be him sitting on that bus, watching Amber walk away, unscathed.
"House?"
Wilson was going to hate him.
And he deserved it.
"House!"
Awake.
Watching through half-hooded eyes, House picked his head up - which didn't seem like such a wonderful idea after the fact, and groaned. His mind reeled. Did he just pass out? He couldn't see Wilson, or Cuddy, and he was back in his office, he noted. Squeezing his eyes shut as a shock of pain shot through his skull, he let his head fall against the back of the chair.
Either he had fallen unconscious again, or his mind was screwing with him at an exceptionally inconvenient time.
[post] closed,
[character] gregory house,
[place] house's office,
[character] amber volakis