PATIENT - Chapter 12: Vindication
Title: Patient
Author: zeppomarx
Characters: House, Wilson, Cuddy, plus the characters created for Priority’s Exigencies and zeppomarx’s A Gentle Knock at the Door.
Summary: House’s minions find a new patient, one who is reluctant to allow House to treat him. Begins three months after the opening scene of A Gentle Knock at the Door. Part of the Contract universe, which includes DIY Sheep’s intense and angsty The Contract, and Priority’s sequel Exigencies.
Thanks: To priority and houserocket7 for encouraging me to writing this side story to A Gentle Knock on the Door, and for their faithful diligence in copy editing my sloppy prose.
Warnings, etc.: Generally safe, but references to torture, rape and major character death that has happened in the past. Some chapters are pretty angsty.
Disclaimers: You know the drill. Don’t own `em, never did, never will. Wish I did.
This Chapter: “You’ve lost, Mr. Tritter. You’ve lost, and Dr. House is back at work, where he will do his best to find a cure for whatever is making you so ill. Despite your best efforts, he’s back… and we’re delighted. Frankly, you ought to be, too. He’s your only hope.”
Previous Chapters:
Chapter 11
Chapter 10
Chapter 9
Chapter 8
Chapter 7
Chapter 6
Chapter 5
Chapter 4
Chapter 3
Chapter 2
Chapter 1
_______________________________________
Chapter 12: Vindication
Back at the duplex, Rainie gathered the files she and Evan had put together, the multiple interviews they had conducted with other people Tritter had persecuted. When the call finally came from Wilson that House’s case had been dismissed by the judge, she found herself with mixed feelings. Enormously relieved that House was no longer in jail, she was also embarrassed to realize that she was vaguely disappointed she hadn’t been able to come to the rescue with her cache of evidence. Quietly, she put the files aside, just in case they might be needed later on.
* * * *
Two hours earlier, Foreman had arrived at the hospital. When he came through the Emergency Room doors and took the right toward Diagnostics, he felt his heart pounding in his chest. A man who seldom looked inward, who masked insecurities with a show of extreme confidence, Foreman had spent the last day shattered, unable to think of anything but House and what had happened between them. For hours, he had gone back over the last few years in his mind, slowly coming to the conclusion that he had missed the symptoms of House’s true character… that he had been unwilling to apply his own diagnostic methods to the world around him.
Everybody lies kept resounding in his head. And the big lie for House had always been that what you saw on the surface was almost completely unrelated to what was underneath. Little moments came back to Foreman, almost unbidden, and he realized he’d had the clues all along, but had chosen not to look at them. If I did that medically, none of my patients would ever survive, he thought.
For the first time in his life, Eric Foreman was tentative, unsure of himself… and very disturbed to have discovered what he was capable of doing.
Taking a deep breath, he pulled open the door to the Diagnostics conference room, and stepped inside.
* * * *
When the doors to Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital slid open and Wilson rolled House’s wheelchair into the building, neither they nor Cuddy were prepared for what awaited them.
Dozens of people in multi-colored or patterned scrubs, or in white lab coats-perhaps as many as 100-were gathered around the big, circular reception desk, alerted by a call from Cuddy to Brenda Previn, who had quickly spread the word. As Wilson pushed the chair into the lobby, spontaneous applause broke out.
Momentarily frightened, House looked around, confused, wondering what was going on. He shrank into the wheelchair; Wilson could feel House’s head hitting his stomach as he craned backward. The applause grew, and they began to hear voices yelling “Bravo” and “Good for you, House.” Out in the crowd, he saw Brenda Previn, Chase… and Foreman… all applauding and shouting their approval.
“Wh-what the hell is going on?” he asked Wilson with a show of bravado he didn’t quite feel. “Why are they… cheering?”
Wilson felt his eyes glisten as he realized just how many people on staff had grown to care about his curmudgeonly friend. Word of his arrest must have spread swiftly through the hospital’s grapevine, and word of the case’s dismissal just as fast.
“They’re on your side, House. They’re on your side.”
House hung his head. He seemed to be mortified by the attention.
“Then they’re all idiots,” he muttered, but his heart didn’t seem to be in it. Behind Wilson, Cuddy broke out into a big smile and nodded encouragingly to her staff, waving her arms like an orchestra conductor to promote more applause.
After a few minutes during which the applause continued to grow, Wilson started to roll House’s chair through the lobby. Slowly, the cheering died down. People cut him a wide berth, clearly not wanting to frighten House or to impinge on his privacy. As House passed, many of the people gathered-nurses, doctors, janitors, administrative and security staff-removed their caps and bowed their heads in deference.
“This is pathetic,” said House out of the corner of his mouth. “I didn’t do anything except convince a foolish judge to give me a Get Out of Jail Free card.”
Above him, Wilson grinned. If that’s what House wanted to think, then fine. But it was obvious that the people he worked with thought differently.
“They’re just glad you’re okay, House. Appreciate it. Moments like this don’t happen very often. By tomorrow, they’ll be back to being the same old idiots who find you annoying and impossible.”
As Wilson looked down, he thought he saw a hint of a smile flicker across House’s face before the usual derisive mask slid back in place.
* * * *
Two floors up, Tritter woke up to hear an odd sound, a bright echo that wafted up the stairwells and through the halls. Just as he had propped himself up in bed, Devi Rajghatta entered his room.
“What’s going on?” he asked irritably. “What’s that noise?”
Devi, who was not feeling particularly charitable toward her patient at the moment, replied bluntly.
“That,” she said with some warmth, “is the entire staff greeting Dr. House.”
Confused and drowsy, Tritter tried to reconcile the sound he heard with what she’d said. House was in jail, where he belonged. There’s no way he could be here in the hospital.
“I don’t get it. What do you mean? How did he get bail?”
Devi stared at him coldly.
“No, I guess you wouldn’t get it, would you?” She grabbed his chart, staring at it intently to avoid doing anything unprofessional. “He didn’t get bail, because he didn’t need it. Your case… your malicious, unfounded case… was dismissed by the judge. The staff is letting him know they’re glad he’s been released from jail.” Then, making direct eye contact with her patient, she said, “You’ve lost, Mr. Tritter. You’ve lost, and Dr. House is back at work, where he will do his best to find a cure for whatever is making you so ill. Despite your best efforts, he’s back… and we’re delighted. Frankly, you ought to be, too. He’s your only hope.”
For once in his life, Michael Tritter was at a loss. As Devi continued to glare at him, he shrank back against the pillows.
“A-Are you telling me that people are actually cheering because that son-of-a-bitch has been set free?”
Devi continued to glare, not even attempting to hide her anger now.
“Yes, Mr. Tritter-the entire staff-except those of us who are needed elsewhere. Everyone has gone down to the lobby to welcome him home.”
“And they’re… they’re still cheering? That’s the noise I hear?”
She dropped his chart back on its hook and turned to leave the room.
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you, you vindictive bastard,” she said, smiling to herself, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
* * * *
Devi woke with a start to find herself draped over the conference table, her face mashed onto the crumpled pages of an internal medicine journal. Through the door to the office she could hear the cheers as House returned to work. Blinking slowly, her dream about confronting Tritter slowly receding from her memory, she realized she must have dozed off while waiting for House to return. Pushing herself back from the table, she stumbled to her feet and went to join her colleagues in the lobby.
Upstairs, no one told Michael Tritter that his nemesis-and potential savior-had not only been released from jail, but had been granted a hero’s welcome upon his return. So, with a smug and contented smile on his face, Tritter lay his head down on the pillow and went to sleep.
Chapter 13...
Author: zeppomarx
Characters: House, Wilson, Cuddy, plus the characters created for Priority’s Exigencies and zeppomarx’s A Gentle Knock at the Door.
Summary: House’s minions find a new patient, one who is reluctant to allow House to treat him. Begins three months after the opening scene of A Gentle Knock at the Door. Part of the Contract universe, which includes DIY Sheep’s intense and angsty The Contract, and Priority’s sequel Exigencies.
Thanks: To priority and houserocket7 for encouraging me to writing this side story to A Gentle Knock on the Door, and for their faithful diligence in copy editing my sloppy prose.
Warnings, etc.: Generally safe, but references to torture, rape and major character death that has happened in the past. Some chapters are pretty angsty.
Disclaimers: You know the drill. Don’t own `em, never did, never will. Wish I did.
This Chapter: “You’ve lost, Mr. Tritter. You’ve lost, and Dr. House is back at work, where he will do his best to find a cure for whatever is making you so ill. Despite your best efforts, he’s back… and we’re delighted. Frankly, you ought to be, too. He’s your only hope.”
Previous Chapters:
Chapter 11
Chapter 10
Chapter 9
Chapter 8
Chapter 7
Chapter 6
Chapter 5
Chapter 4
Chapter 3
Chapter 2
Chapter 1
_______________________________________
Chapter 12: Vindication
Back at the duplex, Rainie gathered the files she and Evan had put together, the multiple interviews they had conducted with other people Tritter had persecuted. When the call finally came from Wilson that House’s case had been dismissed by the judge, she found herself with mixed feelings. Enormously relieved that House was no longer in jail, she was also embarrassed to realize that she was vaguely disappointed she hadn’t been able to come to the rescue with her cache of evidence. Quietly, she put the files aside, just in case they might be needed later on.
* * * *
Two hours earlier, Foreman had arrived at the hospital. When he came through the Emergency Room doors and took the right toward Diagnostics, he felt his heart pounding in his chest. A man who seldom looked inward, who masked insecurities with a show of extreme confidence, Foreman had spent the last day shattered, unable to think of anything but House and what had happened between them. For hours, he had gone back over the last few years in his mind, slowly coming to the conclusion that he had missed the symptoms of House’s true character… that he had been unwilling to apply his own diagnostic methods to the world around him.
Everybody lies kept resounding in his head. And the big lie for House had always been that what you saw on the surface was almost completely unrelated to what was underneath. Little moments came back to Foreman, almost unbidden, and he realized he’d had the clues all along, but had chosen not to look at them. If I did that medically, none of my patients would ever survive, he thought.
For the first time in his life, Eric Foreman was tentative, unsure of himself… and very disturbed to have discovered what he was capable of doing.
Taking a deep breath, he pulled open the door to the Diagnostics conference room, and stepped inside.
* * * *
When the doors to Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital slid open and Wilson rolled House’s wheelchair into the building, neither they nor Cuddy were prepared for what awaited them.
Dozens of people in multi-colored or patterned scrubs, or in white lab coats-perhaps as many as 100-were gathered around the big, circular reception desk, alerted by a call from Cuddy to Brenda Previn, who had quickly spread the word. As Wilson pushed the chair into the lobby, spontaneous applause broke out.
Momentarily frightened, House looked around, confused, wondering what was going on. He shrank into the wheelchair; Wilson could feel House’s head hitting his stomach as he craned backward. The applause grew, and they began to hear voices yelling “Bravo” and “Good for you, House.” Out in the crowd, he saw Brenda Previn, Chase… and Foreman… all applauding and shouting their approval.
“Wh-what the hell is going on?” he asked Wilson with a show of bravado he didn’t quite feel. “Why are they… cheering?”
Wilson felt his eyes glisten as he realized just how many people on staff had grown to care about his curmudgeonly friend. Word of his arrest must have spread swiftly through the hospital’s grapevine, and word of the case’s dismissal just as fast.
“They’re on your side, House. They’re on your side.”
House hung his head. He seemed to be mortified by the attention.
“Then they’re all idiots,” he muttered, but his heart didn’t seem to be in it. Behind Wilson, Cuddy broke out into a big smile and nodded encouragingly to her staff, waving her arms like an orchestra conductor to promote more applause.
After a few minutes during which the applause continued to grow, Wilson started to roll House’s chair through the lobby. Slowly, the cheering died down. People cut him a wide berth, clearly not wanting to frighten House or to impinge on his privacy. As House passed, many of the people gathered-nurses, doctors, janitors, administrative and security staff-removed their caps and bowed their heads in deference.
“This is pathetic,” said House out of the corner of his mouth. “I didn’t do anything except convince a foolish judge to give me a Get Out of Jail Free card.”
Above him, Wilson grinned. If that’s what House wanted to think, then fine. But it was obvious that the people he worked with thought differently.
“They’re just glad you’re okay, House. Appreciate it. Moments like this don’t happen very often. By tomorrow, they’ll be back to being the same old idiots who find you annoying and impossible.”
As Wilson looked down, he thought he saw a hint of a smile flicker across House’s face before the usual derisive mask slid back in place.
* * * *
Two floors up, Tritter woke up to hear an odd sound, a bright echo that wafted up the stairwells and through the halls. Just as he had propped himself up in bed, Devi Rajghatta entered his room.
“What’s going on?” he asked irritably. “What’s that noise?”
Devi, who was not feeling particularly charitable toward her patient at the moment, replied bluntly.
“That,” she said with some warmth, “is the entire staff greeting Dr. House.”
Confused and drowsy, Tritter tried to reconcile the sound he heard with what she’d said. House was in jail, where he belonged. There’s no way he could be here in the hospital.
“I don’t get it. What do you mean? How did he get bail?”
Devi stared at him coldly.
“No, I guess you wouldn’t get it, would you?” She grabbed his chart, staring at it intently to avoid doing anything unprofessional. “He didn’t get bail, because he didn’t need it. Your case… your malicious, unfounded case… was dismissed by the judge. The staff is letting him know they’re glad he’s been released from jail.” Then, making direct eye contact with her patient, she said, “You’ve lost, Mr. Tritter. You’ve lost, and Dr. House is back at work, where he will do his best to find a cure for whatever is making you so ill. Despite your best efforts, he’s back… and we’re delighted. Frankly, you ought to be, too. He’s your only hope.”
For once in his life, Michael Tritter was at a loss. As Devi continued to glare at him, he shrank back against the pillows.
“A-Are you telling me that people are actually cheering because that son-of-a-bitch has been set free?”
Devi continued to glare, not even attempting to hide her anger now.
“Yes, Mr. Tritter-the entire staff-except those of us who are needed elsewhere. Everyone has gone down to the lobby to welcome him home.”
“And they’re… they’re still cheering? That’s the noise I hear?”
She dropped his chart back on its hook and turned to leave the room.
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you, you vindictive bastard,” she said, smiling to herself, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
* * * *
Devi woke with a start to find herself draped over the conference table, her face mashed onto the crumpled pages of an internal medicine journal. Through the door to the office she could hear the cheers as House returned to work. Blinking slowly, her dream about confronting Tritter slowly receding from her memory, she realized she must have dozed off while waiting for House to return. Pushing herself back from the table, she stumbled to her feet and went to join her colleagues in the lobby.
Upstairs, no one told Michael Tritter that his nemesis-and potential savior-had not only been released from jail, but had been granted a hero’s welcome upon his return. So, with a smug and contented smile on his face, Tritter lay his head down on the pillow and went to sleep.
Chapter 13...