Friends :)
First fan-fic, please be nice.
9:00am
It hurt. It had been hurting for nine years. Nine years since his surgery, nine years since he had been able to walk. Properly.
Gregory House was lying in his bed, sprawled over the width of it. Some days he just didn't feel like getting up.
His hand moved to his right thigh, tracing the scar that spread the length, wishing it would go away, but it didn't. House reached for his bedside
table. The pills were there, the pills that kept him out of pain, most of the time, but in misery.
Do I want to take them? he thought. Yes.
As his arm went up to get the orange pill container a spasm went up his leg and his face screwed up in pain. His arm flicked out and knocked the pills off the ledge, but he didn't notice. He was curled up on the bed, in agony.
I'm not going into work today, I just can't.
Three Hours Later
"House! House!"
Wilson was at the door, knocking on it.
"HOUSE! It's a weekday! Get into work, even if your high or hungover! HOUSE!"
House didn't answer. He was lying on his bed, eyes rolled up in his head. Wilson inserted a key into the door and opened the lock.
"House?" He said tentatively.
He looked around and went into the kitchen. No breakfast, and then back into the living room and took a closer look. The closet was open, and all House's clothes were still in there, as well as his current favorite shoes.
"House...?" Wilson was starting to get doubts as he went into the bedroom and saw House lying near the edge of the bed.
"House!" He ran towards him and turned him over, onto his back.
House looked at him with groggy eyes, barely conscious, and then leaned over the side of the bed and threw up.
"What did you do this time!?"
Wilson looked down and saw the spilled pill container and shook his head.
"I'm not helping you again House" he said "Not this time"
He pushed House down and started to leave, as he caught sight of House's eyes. They looked at him pleadingly, as if begging him for something.
"Wasn't - the - pills" he whispered "Leg"
"What? It can't hurt that much?!"
But even as Wilson said it House fainted. Wilson pulled the sheets off him and saw both of his hands over his thigh.
"Oh Sh--" Wilson murmured. He hated seeing House like this...on bad days. "Hold on a sec there House."
Wilson walked back out through the bedroom door to the living room, where he looked for what was needed. Up there - on top of the bookshelf. How the hell does he get up there? He wondered. There was a step ladder, but even so...
Wilson grabbed the step-ladder and pulled him-self up onto it, grabbed the heavy tin box and jumped back down with it in his hands, landing heavily. "Jeez House, way to make things difficult."
He opened the box and pulled out a syringe, and a bottle of clear liquid - Morphine. Cuddy always said it was extreme. But House was in extreme pain...right? He filled the syringe and tested it. No bubbles. Then he quickly moved back into Houses' bedroom. He was still lying there. unconscious.
"Here we go..." said Wilson as he stuck the needle into Houses' spine. As House felt the prick of the needle he suddenly regained consciousness.
"Wh-what was that?" He murmured.
"Morphine, for your leg" Wilson answered shortly.
A smile played upon Houses' face and he got up off the bed, no longer in pain because of the Morphine now surging through his body.
"Ha, fooled you." He said as he stood up, but as he stood the room swirled.
"You know House, some people might find it stupid to movie around after you've just had a large dose of Morphine."
"And some people might find it stupid to give your friend, a known drug addict Morphine because he says it hurts."
"You're not seriously saying that-"
"Seriously...how long have you known me Wilson?" House said and took a step towards the bedroom door. His leg, even though not painful right now crumpled underneath the weight.
"Damn." He swore. Wilson stepped forward to help. "I don't need your help! I never did. Ever!"
"Okay House, I'll leave now." Wilson said and left the flat.
"God Wilson's' annoying!" muttered House. And I can't be screwed to get up...I'll just lie here till the Morphine wears off. Unfortunately.
A/N - I haven't written Chapter Two yet, but If this gets recieved well I'll start :)
“Is this…” Spencer paused. Her voice was a throaty whisper. “Is this all we’ll ever have?” Remy’s eyes met hers. “Do you want more?” Remy asked.
Suddenly Spencer’s face became like a child’s full of tenderness and vulnerability. In that moment that followed Remy felt a bond to her like nothing else. For a long while they sat without speaking. They stared silently at their intertwined hands.
“I love you” Spencer said softly. Remy grew very still. Spencer couldn’t see her face.
“Remy?” She lifted her chin. “Look at me”
Her eyes told her all she needed to know. As they sat there in the faded light of dusk, they both believed in happiness.
Suddenly Spencer’s face became like a child’s full of tenderness and vulnerability. In that moment that followed Remy felt a bond to her like nothing else. For a long while they sat without speaking. They stared silently at their intertwined hands.
“I love you” Spencer said softly. Remy grew very still. Spencer couldn’t see her face.
“Remy?” She lifted her chin. “Look at me”
Her eyes told her all she needed to know. As they sat there in the faded light of dusk, they both believed in happiness.
