House's Addiction to Death

Chapter 2: Surprise Party

"For the last time! It cant be Lupis!" House booms.

"And yet it is! The results came back conclusive! He has Lupis!" Cameron responds matching the decibels of House which caused House to close his eyes and groan in frustration.

"Fine, start him on antiinflammatories, corticosteroids, immunosuppressants and antimalaria drugs." House orders. Foreman looks up confused. "And before you ask, antimalaria because sometimes lupus can be treated with antimalaria drugs." The group nods and gets up leaving House who walks to his office via the glass door that sat in the middle of the glass wall which acted as a divider between the DDx room and his office.

House sits in his chair, no one had realised his eyes had sunken in and had become paler recently. Nausea waves over him and he finds himself hunching over his trash can that sat under his desk, throwing up everything he'd eaten that day. House thought he was alone but as a figure caught the corner of his eye, he spits out the remainder of vomit that was in his mouth and looks at Foreman who had his hands tucked into his pockets. "I'm not in pain, I'm in withdrawal." He says, denying Foreman the chance to run to Cuddy and explain House couldn't make it a week. Foreman sighs and places a container of pills on House's desk, it was Vicodin.

"House, you can't make it a week. Please, take the medicine." Foreman begs, knowing what was best for his boss. House simply rolls his eyes.

"And let Cuddy win? No thank you." House laughs hollowly. Foreman pushes the pill bottle forward more in an attempt to make House take the medication and simply leaves his office, presumably to do his job.

House stares at the pill bottle. He then spins away from it in his chair and rests his head on the bookshelf that remained behind his desk which housed encyclopedias of diseases and conditions, letting the sweat drip off his forehead. On top of the waist-high bookshelf was a mortar and pestle, used to crush up tablets and used as a sign of pharmaceuticals. Granted, House never used it, but today he would. He needed a distraction from the pain. Hoisting up the heavy pestle, House uses all his strength to lift it two inches up. He places his hand underneath and brings down the pestle with an amazing amount of force, presumably breaking his hand. Now normally House's body would be able to tolerate the amount of pain, but being off his Vicodin and being abnormally weak and nauseous, his eyes rolled back. Darkness consumed his body and House thought 'is this how I die?' It was oddly warm and calm around him.

Hearing but not seeing, a shriek was heard and before he knew it his body was being moved. He couldn't tell by who. The warmth left his body as his body was pumped full of chemicals and medications in an attempt to save his life, House presumed.

House began to see, but nothing familiar. He'd seen this once before, it was his brain releasing chemicals before he died. House was in a field with flowers surrounding him. The sun-kissed his body but he couldn't feel it. There were birds chirping and water flowing in a nearby stream. House lied down on the plush grass and smiled softly to himself feeling a sense of calm and euphoria.

"Clear!" A voice calls. He remained in his field, closing his eyes and relaxing. "Clear!" The voice calls again. Being pulled away from his dream was chilling. It felt like the world was being sucked away through a vacuum.

Gasping, House's eyes open wide, those baby blues staring at everyone around him. Chase, Cameron, Foreman and Wilson, all standing and staring. House gasps for air and then looks around at all of the group. "A surprise party? For me? You shouldn't have!" He jokes in a raspy painful voice as per his usual self. Wilson sighs and looks at House, he then gives a nod to the team who respond with the same nod and leave Wilson and House alone.

Wilson looks at House and sighs. "You broke your hand for relief from your leg. What the hell House?" Wilson sighs. Wilson had been House's friend for years now, he just wanted to help his friend. House sighs and closes his eyes. "House forget this bet, just take your Vicodin. You're already on so much morphine from almost dying. We were going to call it." Wilson whispers the last part. House sighs and opens his eyes, watching Wilson. "House," Wilson's voice lowers. "Are you suicidal? There's help you can get if you are but you need to tell-"

"I'm not suicidal, I'm trying to get myself out of clinic duty. Now leave me alone, I gotta rest don't I?" House raises an eyebrow. Wilson goes to say something but, he keeps his mouth shut and walks out the door, closing it behind himself. House would never tell Wilson about that experience, or anyone for that matter.

Especially not the fact that he wanted that euphoria again.