Gentle Knock - Part 23 by zeppomarx ()

Title: A Gentle Knock at the Door, Part 23
Author: zeppomarx
Characters: House, Wilson, Cuddy, Chase and Foreman, and new folks.
Warnings and So On: NC-17 for concepts. H/W friendship (perhaps slash if you wear slash goggles)
Summary: A sequel to Priority's Exigencies, which is a sequel to DIY Sheep's The Contract, which has now spawned an incredible number of offshoots. The short version: House is a physical and emotional mess, having been wrongly imprisoned and tortured and all sorts of nasty stuff. It's about what happens next, and how House deals with it.
Timeline: Set nearly a year after the beginning of Exigencies.
Earlier parts here: Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 , 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22,
Comments: Be gentle. Flamers begone. Thanks to AW, GM and my medical guru TD, who tells me the medicine is okay, but the procedure is all messed up. Drama trumps medicine, or so I've heard.
Oh, Yeah, the Disclaimer: I certainly don't own House or any of the characters therein, although it would be nice if I did. They belong to David Shore & company. It's just that they waltzed into my head and wouldn't leave until I told their story.

TEASER: What have they done to him?...

___________________________________________

A Gentle Knock at the Door
Part 23

Hours after Evan left, Rainie awoke feeling groggy. The room sounded odd. She couldn’t quite figure it out, but something was different. She lay still a moment and just listened. She’d gotten used to the beep and hum of her machines, and now the sound was louder, and somehow more complex.

She opened her eyes just a little, always afraid of what she’d see. So far so good. It was the ceiling, as usual. Focusing in on the beeps, she heard her heart monitor clearly, but now, in the background, she detected another, fainter beep. She looked to her left and saw Dr. Liu, sitting in a chair, absorbed in a book. She looked to her right and gasped.

Instead of a big empty space occupied by a couple of chairs and an ottoman, now there was another bed and more equipment. It was close enough that she could almost touch it. She inhaled slowly, feeling her heart rate increase. She let out the breath quietly, and then took another deep one, exhaling it slowly, trying to fight off her growing dread.

They could have hurt me in my sleep, she thought, trying to reason with herself, and they didn’t. They could have taken me away from here, back to the prison, back to my cell, and they didn’t.

But she also remembered the night the nurse and the others had taken her out of here, frightening her badly and causing her to fall, leaving her cold and unprotected. Anything unexpected shook her. And this was certainly unexpected.

Suspiciously, she looked over at the bed. There was a man in it, a tall, very thin man who was making low moaning noises as he breathed.

Oh, dear god, she thought as she recognized the face. It’s my doctor. This is why he hasn’t been here. What have they done to him? Is this a warning? They killed… killed my darling Jeff, killed my Evie, and now they’ve done something horrible to my doctor. Anxiety overpowered her as her breath got ragged and she began to cry.

Jacey Liu heard a noise and looked up to see Rainie staring at House and beginning to panic. I knew this wasn’t a good idea, she thought, getting up and squeezing herself between the two beds.

“Rainie, Rainie. Listen to me. It’s all right.” She continued speaking in a soothing tone, hoping it would calm her patient’s fears. It didn’t help. Then Jacey turned her attention to her other patient, gently laying her hand on his good shoulder and shaking him slightly.

“Greg? Can you wake up? Please, wake up. I think Rainie needs you.”

Blearily, House open his left eye and saw Jacey standing nearby and Rainie hyperventilating and crying in the other bed. He had purposely arranged to have his bed situated so his left side—the one suffering very little new damage—would be closest to Rainie’s bed, to mitigate her anxiety over seeing him injured. Evidently, that idea wasn’t working very well.

“Rainie,” he said, hoping his words sounded less garbled in real life than they sounded in his own head. “Rainie, it’s me. It’s okay. I’m still here. It’s all right.”

She hiccupped. Jacey slid back out from between them, and returned to her chair, looking up from her book now and then in case she was needed.

Tentatively, he reached his long left arm out in her direction, through the openings in his bed rail and then through hers. She saw the hand she’d come to trust edging toward her. Her breathing slowed. His hand reached the side of her bed, his long broken fingers resting on the blanket. She eased her right hand toward his and touched her mashed fingers to his.

“You’re… hurt,” she said, finally, looking not at the hand but at his face.

That’s an understatement, thought Jacey, not knowing House was thinking the same thing.

From where she was, Rainie could see bandages on the far side of his head and body. As he turned his head slightly toward her, she could see the massive bruises on the right side of his face. The movement made him wince, which in turn caused her to flinch. He exhaled a pained breath, and then the intense blue eye looked back at her steadily.

Okay, now what? thought House. Gotta deal with it. How do I say it so I don’t make things worse?

“Yup. Sure am,” he offered. “That makes the two of us a couple of big babies, doesn’t it?” he replied, as casually as he could, hoping she could understand him. His mouth and tongue were still swollen enough that certain sounds—particularly those involving his lips, like “m” and “p” and “f” and “b”—were indistinct.

Although it was a struggle for him to talk, she was able to make out what he was saying.

Startled by his offhand response, she smiled. “I guess it does,” she said.

Good, he thought; smiling is good.

“So we’ll be a couple of big babies together,” he said. And then, repeating what Jacey had said to him… could it have been only a few nights ago...? he added, “I’m not leaving you.”

He saw her gazing at him, and he detected hope on her face.

“I’m going to stay right here with you until we’re both well.”

Or until we’re both dead, he thought. Which at the moment, with his head hurting as it did, seemed much more likely.

He had barely moved and barely spoken, and yet he was drained. His face ached and he wanted nothing more than to go to sleep, but he wasn’t willing to do it until he was sure she was okay.

Fortunately for him, she smiled and closed her eyes, lying back on the bed.

He did the same.

When Jacey Liu looked up, she saw both of her patients asleep, House’s arm still on Rainie’s bed, her fingers lightly touching his.

* * * *

At Monday afternoon’s meeting, the team discussed the logistical issues as well as the psychological aspects of treating their (now) two critically ill patients.

Jacey Liu began the meeting by describing House and Rainie’s brief conversation. “Let me start with the good news. Having House move into the room is undoubtedly good for Rainie in many ways. Despite her natural distress and anxiety about House’s injuries, she is in a much better place today than she’s been for some time. As far as his patient’s immediate care is concerned, House was absolutely right in making this decision. His response to her fear was perfect—lighthearted and humorous. He was able to do in a few seconds what the rest of us hadn’t been able to do in four days.”

Wilson, finally well rested, shook his head slightly in wonder.

Jacey continued. “Here’s my real concern, and I think we need to figure out how to deal with it before it happens. Both of these very fragile people are prone to nightmares, panic attacks, flashbacks and other PTSD symptoms. I hope I’m not telling tales out of school…”

Here she looked at Wilson, who nodded confirmation for her to continue. “…but Dr. House has been subject to some truly debilitating episodes, especially lately.”

Ajunta heard a murmur around the table. He looked at the faces, some of which were quietly shocked.

“I won’t go into detail, but please… please,” she continued, pleadingly, “don’t judge Dr. House harshly because of this. What he has done, and continues to do, is… well, it’s really remarkable, considering the demons that haunt him. As the mind heals, the emotions become more raw and the effects of PTSD can become considerably more pronounced. What he’s been going through is normal. The fact that he’s continued to function as well as he has is not.

“My concern has several parts. First, we have no way of knowing how Pevey’s attack is going to affect House’s own emotional recovery. This could push those emotions back inside so that he has to begin healing all over again. Or it could aggravate and increase the turmoil.

“Second, it’s possible that if either of these two has a nightmare or other episode, it could set off the other. In particular, if House has an extreme nightmare or flashback—and by extreme, I mean a situation where he is completely out of control, either with fear or with anger—it could set Rainie’s recovery back. I’m consulting with a couple other psychiatrists on this to see if there’s precedent and how something similar might have been handled in those cases.

“The third thing has to do with House himself. As we all know, he tends to overlook his own welfare if his actions benefit others.”

That’s putting it mildly, Wilson thought.

“I’ll let the rest of you deal with the physical aspects of his decision. My responsibility is his psychological health. At a time when he really ought to be focused on his own recovery, he has chosen to disregard his wellbeing for what he hopes will help Rainie. Right now, he needs to be taken care of, and yet he’s put himself in a position of having to be responsible for someone else. This could help him, or it could hurt him.

“It’s entirely possible that such close proximity to her recovery could aggravate his PTSD… or it’s possible that Pevey’s attack in and of itself could do the same thing. Should that happen, there will be an effect on Rainie’s recovery as well. This is one of the reasons I was hesitant about House’s idea.

“We’re going to have to watch the situation very closely, and I’d really like to do a little brainstorming about how to address these issues should they arise.”

Claudia DuBois opened her mouth hesitantly. “What exactly are you anticipating, Dr. Liu? Could you give us an example of what you’re concerned about?”

Jacey pursed her lips and thought for a moment. While she was pondering, Wilson stepped in.

“Given what’s happened in the last few days, I think it’s obvious that we’re all now treating two patients, one of whom just happens to be a doctor and the lead physician on the other’s case.

“Let me tell you about an incident that happened just last week. The only reason I feel comfortable sharing it is that part of it has already been made public.” As calmly as he could, Wilson talked about the mother of all nightmares on Thursday morning, describing the screaming, the fact that House couldn’t snap out of it and the aftermath with the police.

For some around the table, his story came as little or no surprise. Others found it unsettling, including Claudia DuBois.

Jacey Liu stepped in. “If Dr. House were to have a similar episode, you can see how this might have a disturbing effect on Rainie. The question is how do we, as their medical team, handle it?”

After much discussion, it was suggested that House be asked to try to prepare Rainie for the possibility, and that the staff be told that if something should occur, Rainie was to be removed from the room immediately, until he had a chance to calm down. Although some on the team thought this was a reasonable approach, others had grave concerns about allowing House to continue sharing a room with Rainie at all under these circumstances.

“We’ve got a real quandary here,” said Ajunta. “No matter what decision we make, there’s a serious downside for both Rainie and House. If we remove him from the situation, we make it almost impossible for Rainie to trust anyone else. If he stays in Rainie’s room, we risk the possibility that his PTSD will create a whole new set of problems for Rainie—and vice versa—and that he may suffer guilt over hindering her recovery. It’s potentially a lose-lose.”

“There’s something else, too,” added Jacey. “For House, losing his responsibility for Rainie could also get rid of one of his primary motivations for getting better. I would think that without Rainie to care for, after everything he’s been through and the difficult future he faces, he might just prefer to die.”

She paused a moment to let that idea sink in.

A murmur went through the room. Wilson, who had actively avoided thinking that thought, felt ill, although he knew it was almost definitely true. House’s anguished plea ran through his head. Please, please… just let me die. Let me die.

Because there were no easy answers, the group tabled that part of the discussion for now, agreeing to revisit it after a few days. Wilson found himself wishing he and Cuddy hadn’t taken House up on his proposal.

Even the logistics of having two critically ill patients in the same room were complicated, but not nearly as complex as the psychological issues. Both patients needed monitoring equipment, which made the room a little crowded, plus, in case of emergency, there needed to be enough space for doctors and nurses to be able to get at each of them, if necessary

Part of the problem had to do with privacy. Basic bodily functions had to be dealt with and both needed to be bathed. The room, which was not designed for two, had no privacy curtain.

Before he moved into the room, House had rejected the idea of relocating the two of them into a larger room. “No. The whole reason for this is to be close by,” he’d said. “If we’re separated by a curtain, there’s no point.”

Of course, when he said it, it sounded more like, “No. Duh ho' `eason `or dis is do me c’ose my. I’ `eer’e sebaraded my a curdain, d`ere’s no boind.”

But they got the gist.

The group settled on a schedule for bathing and other privacy issues. They ordered a portable screen that could be set up between the two of them after sliding one of the beds further away. Because Rainie was now more mobile than House, it was agreed that she could be moved out of the room temporarily if he needed special attention, even if that increased her anxiety.

The PT team presented a staggered schedule of physical therapy to go into effect once House was ready. Other treatment would be coordinated within the group so that, except in case of emergency, each of them could be treated at separate times.

The meeting last nearly three hours. When it was done, Wilson and Jacey Liu trekked back downstairs to room 304.

* * * *

Lisa Cuddy had her hands full, both literally and figuratively. She’d been sorting through press requests for the past hour, and had scooped up dozens of pink message slips to send off to Janice Pierson to handle. Stuffing them in a yellow inter-office message envelope, she scrawled Janice’s name on the front and dropped it in her outbox.

As for the figuratively part, she had put in calls to the members of the board of directors to fill them in on the situation about House, Pevey and Rainie Adler. She had a meeting at two with the Diagnostics Department, to discuss how House’s injuries would affect how the department functioned, and had requested visits from Rainie’s (and now House’s) nurses, who would stay in the room for the next day or so. Joe Roberts of the FBI had called, asking if he could see House. He’d be here tomorrow morning.

Since Thursday night, Cuddy had kept herself very busy, trying to avoid having any time to think about what had happened. Always a fidgety person, even under the best of circumstances, she had become a bundle of nervous tics. Now she sat her desk, twisting and stretching a rubber band in her hands.

She hadn’t been able to bring herself to go see House. It had been hard enough the night he was brought in, when she just happened to be chatting with Karen Langley in the ER as the ambulance pulled up, the doors opened and the med techs came through with a very bloody and battered House on a gurney. Just thinking about it made her want to cry. He’d looked so frail and helpless. And then the long hours of waiting, not knowing if he would survive at all.

The idea that he faced another convalescence, more pain, more misery, more fear—she just couldn’t stand it. She couldn’t bear to see him like this, and just thinking about it aggravated her feelings of guilt.

No matter what she’d tried to do, she hadn’t been able to protect him. It wasn’t fair, she thought. Of course, it never had been, but this time she felt responsible for what had happened. Maybe if she had handled things differently. Over the weekend, she’d obsessed about the past few months. Was there something—anything—she could have done that would have stopped Pevey before he attacked House?

Perhaps if she’d disciplined Pevey earlier, or hired more (or better) security for Rainie, not allowed House to take on Rainie’s case in the first place, sealed off the third floor, hired private security to protect House at his home… her mind went around it and around it until she’d given herself a beauty of a headache.

But ultimately, it didn’t matter what she had or hadn’t done, because this was the reality: Greg House had been attacked and nearly killed by Alan Pevey. He was hanging on, but just barely, and he was insisting—as only he could—on putting himself in a situation that might push his fragile health over the edge.

And then what would she do?

* * * *

At 8:25 p.m., Mark St. John arrived for work in room 304, surprised to see two beds instead of one. Of course, he’d heard that Greg House had been assaulted, but no one had told him yet that Dr. House would be sharing a room with his patient. As he started to enter the room, the security guard at the door asked for his ID, glanced at it and then sent him to Dr. Cuddy’s office.

When he got to Cuddy’s office on the fifth floor, he was ushered in. Dr. Cuddy motioned for him to have a seat across from her at the desk.

“Mark, you’ve been here a long time,” she began.

Am I about to be fired, he wondered, beginning to get anxious. Did I do something wrong? He waited for her to continue.

“As you probably know, we’ve had some difficulty the past few days with the people who have been charged with Rainie Adler’s care. And now, Dr. House’s convalescence will be part of that responsibility as well. I can’t allow anything more to happen to that man. He’s been through enough.

“I want your personal assurance that nothing—nothing—will keep you from doing your duty. I want those two cared for and protected.”

Mark breathed a sigh of relief.

“Dr. Cuddy,” he said, looking her directly in the eye, “I went into medicine because helping other people is what matters most to me. I’ve heard some gossip that one of Ms. Adler’s nurses was careless and the other allowed herself to be bribed. I’ll do my best not to be careless, and, frankly, no amount of money could keep me from caring for these two ill-treated people. I agree—they’ve been through enough. They deserve the best.”

Cuddy breathed more easily. They shook hands.

Next: Nightmares. Just nightmares...

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