Stick and Stones 5/?

[texasislandr.livejournal.com]

Author: Texas Islandr
Title: Sticks and stones 5/?
Rating: PG-13 (for typical House language)
Summary: An argument leaves both House and Wilson with remorse, especially when House ends up in the hospital. HouseWilson strong friendship.
Disclaimer: Nope, wish I did 

CHAPTER 5: Discovery

Wilson stepped quietly into the apartment not quite sure about what would greet him. He was still confused as to why the door was unlocked, though he was thankful for small favors since he had angrily given up his key earlier. To be honest, he had fully expected a book or remote to hurl itself towards his head as soon as he cleared the door, but instead he was met with nothing but silence. The apartment was cold; the winter air had invaded and taken over the small space. Wilson shivered and pulled his thick coat tighter around his body as he worriedly glanced around for any signs of his friend. Beer bottles sat half full on the table along with cold pizza that had been barely eaten, and the TV still sat muted on House’s favorite channel. It was eerily just as everything had been upon his abrupt and stormy exit a few hours earlier. With a heavy sigh and a facial expression of complete guilt, he lifted his hand to rub the back of his neck. His deep brown eyes glancing down the expanse of the hall, as he tried to muster up all the courage that he could to walk those few yards and face whatever fate awaited him. All he knew is that he couldn’t bring himself to leave things this unsettled between them, especially when it came to the words he had said. He needed to apologize and to tell House that he hadn’t meant them. Exhaling a nervous breath, his hand dropped heavily to his side and he trudged nervously towards the bedroom.

As the door creaked open Wilson was surprised to see the light on, but the space vacant. Looking over his shoulder he saw the light pouring out beneath the bathroom door and for a moment he stood still as he starred at the wooden barrier that lay between him and his friend.

“House” he called softly, his knuckles lightly raping against the frame, breaking the silence. After a few moments of having not received a response he tried knocking once more.

“House?”

“Come on House we need to talk” he urged softly.

“If you don’t open the door I’m coming in” he warned with growing impatience.

Frowning and trying to hold back an aggravated sigh Wilson let his fingers hesitantly grasp the cool metal handle twisting it down slightly until he felt it begin to move foreward giving him entry into the small room. After only a short distance the door stalled as if barricaded by some unknown object.

“House this isn’t funny let me in!” he growled pushing harder. There was a slight thud and the door gave another few inches, enough at least to see that the obstruction blocking the door was his friends own body.
Wilson could have sworn that his heart had stopped beating in that single moment as he realized that his friend was not purposefully blocking his entry, but was crumpled in a heap on the other side and obviously unresponsive. Remembering to breathe, he inhaled deeply while threading his body through the forced opening. His knees hit the tile hard as he dropped down beside the older man.

“House?” he called loudly, his voice laced with obvious concern. He turned the man over to face him placing two fingers on his neck letting his fears meet him head on when only a slow and sluggish thump met his fingertips.

“Shit!” he cursed as he pulled his phone out dialing 911 as quickly as his trembling hands would allow.
“I need an ambulance” he gasped out “My friend he’s barely got a pulse, I don’t know what’s wrong with him yet, but I’m a doctor and I think that maybe it’s a Vicodin OD”

Using his free hand he continued to search his friend’s body in hopes to find some answers “We’re at Washington street apartment number 221 B, yes, thank you!” Flipping his cell phone shut he let it clatter to the floor, abandoned. Wilson’s right hand clasped onto the small amber bottle that lay discarded a few feet away and rattled it taking a glance at the date showing him that his assumption of an OD was clearly mistaken.

He pulled houses body up into his lap and tapped his face lightly trying to get a response. After a few attempts he stopped and placed a hand on his friends’ brow noting how cold and clammy the skin was, yet there was still sweat accumulating upon his brow despite the cold temperature of the surrounding apartment.

Revelation dawned in his eyes as he glanced around the surrounding area, his eyes locking on the bottle of pills that lay scattered on the tiles near the sink, he didn’t have to pick them up to know what they were…Aspirin.

“God damn it! Shit! Shit! Shit!” his eyes were wide with panic as he pulled himself out from under his friends back placing him firmly to the ground. His fingers lightly grasped the sides of the older mans stubbled jaw. He tilted his head back and leaned foreword listening for the breath sounds that the diagnostician should be making. Cursing himself for his stupidity, and assuming an OD, he quickly placed his mouth over Houses and breathed deeply into his lungs, trying as he could to ignore the awkwardness of their situation. This was not hard to do as the signs of cyanosis began to reveal itself, forming a bluish tinge on the diagnostician’s lips. Lacing his fingers together he quickly placed the palm of his hand firmly on the sternum of his friend and began to do compressions, counting in his head to fifteen before dipping down to place his mouth over House's a second time. He let his breath fill his House’s lungs before reverting back to compressions. He repeated this cycle several times. His body began to tire, but his determination was pushing him to continue. Tears began to prick his eyes, his mind wandering to the ‘what ifs’ and as the reality of the situation began to set in, he couldn’t help but release a choked sob that was filled with all the raw emotions that he felt.

The sound of sirens screeching outside where echoing throughout the building, but the noise fell on deaf ears. Wilson’s full attention was focused on the man below him, and him alone. It wasn’t until hands were pulling him off of House that he realized he wasn’t alone.

He watched in despair as paramedics pushed passed him ripping House’s shirt open to reveal his bare and now bruised chest. In only a matter of seconds they had a bag covering his mouth and paddles from their portable defibrillator placed on his chest and charged to 100 .

“Clear!” a medic shouted and Wilson backed up in horror until his back was pressed against the sink, his eyes clamping shut at the sight of Houses body arching under the current. Looking up again he tried to brave another glance but the sight before him was overwhelming. Placing a hand over his face he wept openly “I’m sorry” he whispered hoarsely as the EMT’s shouted “Clear” a third time.

“I have a pulse!” a medic declared triumphantly, “let’s get him loaded!”

Wilson followed blindly through his tears as they wheeled his friend out the front entrance. Not bothering to lock the door behind him, he rushed to clamber inside the Ambulance just as the rear doors slammed shut, the sirens beginning their sad cry once more.

“Sir, do you have a hospital of preference?” an EMT questioned gently. Wilson looked up into the woman’s blue eyes for the first time and nodded, hopping his voice wouldn’t break “Princeton Plainsboro. We’re both doctors there.”

He sat on the bench by the gurney watching in silence as the woman instructed the driver, then began inserting an IV into his friend’s hand prepping the older man for his arrival into the ER. The ambulance rocked slightly as it bulleted down the highway, but all Wilson could do was keep his eyes transfixed on his friend’s pale features.