001. Lost (House)
001. Lost
When he wakes up, there is light; and then pain. A lot of pain. His screams brings the nurse running, and then someone (Stacey) is holding his hand as someone else injected some type of solution into his veins.
Pain. Darkness. Fireworks. Flashes. Voices, soothing and rushed. Then the drugs start to kick in, lowering the pain to a tolerable level -one that was nice compared to muscle death.
“Greg?” She whispers, holding his hand. “Are you okay?”
“I almost died from pain.” He mumbles, thoughts becoming sharper as he opens his eyes. She looks happy; but guilt seems to hover in the wrinkles around her eyes, the tenseness in her jaw. “Of course I’m just peachy.”
She laughs a little and the doctor (definitely not Cuddy) presses his stethoscope against his chest, flashes a pencil light into his eyes, and asks him to follow the pen progress through the air with his eyes.
And he smiles for a moment because he is still alive (and the drugs were making him a little giddy), flexing his arms and hands before making sure they didn’t cut off his leg while he was out. He had faith in Stacey, but he would always be a paranoid bastard who-
“What the hell happened to my leg?” He snarls, flinging the sheet aside and sitting up so he could see why his thigh muscle felt so… cleaved. “You butchered it!”
“You were going to die!”
“Then I should have died!”
She just looks at him, guilty yet resolved. She had known since the first time Lisa Cuddy mentioned the halfway surgery; she had known he would react as if she had killed him. But she wanted him to live. It might make her selfish and unethical, but she did not care. As long as he lived, he had a chance to be happy again.
Maybe.
Index Table
When he wakes up, there is light; and then pain. A lot of pain. His screams brings the nurse running, and then someone (Stacey) is holding his hand as someone else injected some type of solution into his veins.
Pain. Darkness. Fireworks. Flashes. Voices, soothing and rushed. Then the drugs start to kick in, lowering the pain to a tolerable level -one that was nice compared to muscle death.
“Greg?” She whispers, holding his hand. “Are you okay?”
“I almost died from pain.” He mumbles, thoughts becoming sharper as he opens his eyes. She looks happy; but guilt seems to hover in the wrinkles around her eyes, the tenseness in her jaw. “Of course I’m just peachy.”
She laughs a little and the doctor (definitely not Cuddy) presses his stethoscope against his chest, flashes a pencil light into his eyes, and asks him to follow the pen progress through the air with his eyes.
And he smiles for a moment because he is still alive (and the drugs were making him a little giddy), flexing his arms and hands before making sure they didn’t cut off his leg while he was out. He had faith in Stacey, but he would always be a paranoid bastard who-
“What the hell happened to my leg?” He snarls, flinging the sheet aside and sitting up so he could see why his thigh muscle felt so… cleaved. “You butchered it!”
“You were going to die!”
“Then I should have died!”
She just looks at him, guilty yet resolved. She had known since the first time Lisa Cuddy mentioned the halfway surgery; she had known he would react as if she had killed him. But she wanted him to live. It might make her selfish and unethical, but she did not care. As long as he lived, he had a chance to be happy again.
Maybe.
Index Table