[Dr. Jones, Dr. Jones, Wake Up Now...]
WHO: Daisya Berry, Yu Kanda, Gregory House
WHAT: Kanda needs surgery!
WHERE: House's house... o_O
WHEN: Middle of the night
( The other Exorcist had better be damn careful where exactly under his leg he was putting that arm. )
WHAT: Kanda needs surgery!
WHERE: House's house... o_O
WHEN: Middle of the night
( The other Exorcist had better be damn careful where exactly under his leg he was putting that arm. )
Those puzzle pieces, of course, connected up with others, some of which he was closer to fitting together while others…well, it was hard to match up the picture when you didn't know if you were looking at an elbow or an ear. That was why House used his white board at work. Writing things down was just how he worked. But he didn't have a white board here.
What he had instead were his walls. They were papered in stripes of pale yellow and cream, mostly, and House had been shameless about turning them into a de facto note pad. At the moment that the knocking began, he had been contemplating a list of notes and numbers written under the name "Sunshine." He was also particularly uninterested in the prospect of being disturbed.
Damn. Who the hell would be trying to come and see him at this hour of the night anyway? (He craned his head to glance out of his back window-he wouldn't put it past that eccentric kid the next street over, but guessed that the front door wouldn't be so much his style.) Maybe if he just ignored them, they'd go away. It was always worth a shot.
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It seemed that all of Kanda's frustrations poured out within the impacts to the door; everything from the ball to the fight with that Noah, and now he was stuck in that girl's body with a fucked up knee...
"Dr. House!" he roared enough so that the entire damn neighborhood could probably hear him (he only slightly winced at the sound of Lenalee's voice tearing through his throat-so this was what she sounded like when she was practically homicidal). "DR. HOUSE!!"
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"Stop it," he ordered, grabbing her wrist and holding tight to keep her from hitting the door further. "You're makin' an idiot of yourself, dammit! Calm down an' let me handle it!"
With a sigh, he leaned back and looked at one of the windows. "Dr. House, it's Daisya," he called. "An'... ah, Lenalee. She needs help... please?"
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The very first person that House thought of at the sound of a woman's voice screaming his name was little miss Cellular Regeneration-what was her name? Cassie? Cathy? whatever-but whoever was outside his door shrieking at the top of her lungs, it didn't sound like the cheerleader from Odessa.
He had actually already started limping towards the door-intent on telling whoever the hell was out there that they should try taking a moonlit stroll down the docks and under no circumstances call him in the morning, when he heard Daisya's voice. Great. Lovely. That was the problem with taking in strays. They always just had to bring friends.
He pulled open the door with a ready scowl and glared first at Daisya and then at his companion (not bearing weight on one leg, he noted reflexively) in turn. "I know how easy it is to miss, what with the dark sky and the moon and all, but you might have noticed-it's the middle of the night. Some people are trying to sleep." Some people, apparently, not including him, since most of the lights in his house were on and he didn't look the least bit bed rumpled, but that was scarcely the point, in his mind.
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He decided to let Daisya do all the talking. The moron was good for something every once in a while, after all.
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"'m sorry to bug you," Daisya began, looking up at House with a pained expression. "She's not usually so, ah, impatient. We got into a little scuffle with that Noah I told you 'bout... uh, the one who killed me. She went a little overboard an' messed her knee up bad... an' you're the best person I know for this kinda thing. I mean... I don't trust some random person with her. So... please..."
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He pushed the door open wordlessly to allow them to come inside, and said simply, "Kitchen," before closing the door more loudly than was strictly necessary.
Since Daisya had last been here, House had been doing some planning, some stocking, some rearranging. He had a lot more supplies and more than a few new brainstorms. He also had freshly scrawled-upon kitchen walls, and though none of the information he'd put there was attached to names in a way that would be directly compromising to anyone, if he was going to have random people banging on his door asking for medical attention at all hours of the night, he would have to come up with a way to cover up his impromptu white board in short order.
"Sit down," he told the girl, gesturing impatiently with his cane to a chair by the kitchen table. "Tell me where it hurts and exactly what you were doing when the pain started."
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"I was in a fight," Kanda explained. "I put too much momentum in my jump and landed on my leg improperly. In fact, I don't need much of a diagnosis, I already know what's wrong. I tore my medial collateral. I'm just here to see if I'm going to need some kind of surgery or not."
He had not been trying to brag, by any means, in his anatomical knowledge. Kanda had sustained almost every injury imaginable short of severed limbs during his career as an Exorcist. After years and years of doctor after doctor telling you exactly why you can't leave the hospital after only a couple of hours in intensive care, you tended to pick up a few things.
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Charming. He didn't just get a patient with a boring knee injury that he didn't want to treat, he got a self-diagnosing, know-it-all patient who was going to try and tell him how to treat her. His favorite.
He limped around to the far counter and began going through drawers, pulling out syringes, bottles, bandages. "You allergic to any medications? Any family history of osteoarthritis? Degenerative bone disease?" He glanced over at her as he went to the ice chest, retrieving a small ice block, which he wrapped up in a square of cloth.
He caught a look at Daisya in the periphery of his vision as he did, his eyes flitting over him quickly-too brief a scrutiny to notice, but in a moment he took in his posture, the blood stain on his back, the expression on his face. Now that was what made this visit worth his time: Sunshine was looking distinctly less sunny. " We got into a little scuffle with that Noah I told you 'bout... uh, the one who killed me." Interesting. Significant.
Without acknowledging that he'd noticed anything about Daisya at all, House pulled up a chair in front of Lenalee and handed her the impromptu ice pack, "Here, hold that against the inside of your knee. I'm going to give you some codeine for the pain."
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Kanda sighed softly as he took the ice pack and placed it against his knee. It felt a bit better now, the pain was dwindling somewhat now that he wasn't trying to move all over the place at once.
Great. Drugs. That seemed to be every doctor's solution with each visit he made: pump him up with drugs.
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He shifted a bit and sat down next to her, grimacing a bit as his coat pulled at the wound on his back. He was tired, and he wanted to rest, but he had to take care of Kanda first before the idiot wrecked Lenalee's body further.
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This was all starting to just get too damn confusing for him. Well, if anything, at least he no longer seemed too weirded out by it all.
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The only question was how to get whatever it was out.
Drawing a dose of codeine into a syringe and tapping the air bubbles loose, House fixed the girl with the sort of maniacal smile that would have looked very much at home on a mad scientist. "Well, if she's not sure this should be a real adventure," he said, as though he found the prospect of a sudden allergic reaction to be the potential highlight of his evening.
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Didn't mean he could act like her, though, try as he might.
Kanda couldn't help feeling slightly unnerved at the way House looked at him. He was suddenly reminded of being underneath Komui's drill back at Headquarters. Definitely not pleasant memories. Instead, he made a point to glaring in the other direction. "Let's just get this over with," he muttered.
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He gave her the injection IV, so that the effect would be immediate: enough to take the edge off the pain but not so much as to relieve it completely. He still needed her to know what she was feeling, after all.
"All right," he told her, as he limped back across the room to drop the needle into a metal pot that looked a bit like an antique pressure cooker, "get up on the table and lie down on your back. And let Daisya help you, since you've already managed to demonstrate just how graceful you are at moving on your own."
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"Thanks for your help again," he said quietly, and retreated to the chair he'd been in, sinking back into his thoughts.
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