Do No Harm | House M.D. | Wilson x OC

Chapter Six | A Dangerous Game

I was not built for sitting in a hospital bed.

As soon as I get out of here, I'm making some changes, I thought furiously as I half-listened to my fourth episode in a row of Miss Macy's Call-In Romance Advice Radio Hour. Stalag 17 had more to do.

I was under strict orders not to watch any television or look at any screens — a standard directive for post-concussion recovery. That meant that all I could really do was sleep, flick around on the radio, and listen effortfully to any catches of the nurse's dialogues, hoping they would drop any hint of what was going on with the other patients. The Real Patients, I'd begun calling them in my head. The ones that actually needed help. Needed my help.

Instead, I was rotting in this bed listening to Miss Macy tell caller after caller that their delusional crush would definitely pay off — they just had to go for it.

"They should call me instead," I muttered, flicking the radio off.

In the afternoon, Cuddy came by to check on me.

"I promise," I insisted desperately. "This is not a normal thing, I'm a very healthy, very reliable doctor, I—"

"Lawrence!" Cuddy chuckled compassionately. "I know you are. It's okay. You're not in trouble. You're not losing your job. Everybody gets sick."

"Does House ever get sick?" I raised one eyebrow and imagined wistfully. "Does he ever get a cold just bad enough to keep him from coming in for a week, leaving the rest of us to actually get things done?"

Cuddy laughed knowingly.

"I think House might be permanently sick," she muttered drily. "Just not the kind that keeps you home, unfortunately."

We exchanged an amused smile, but she looked down, apologetically.

"Actually, fortunately for us." She leaned forward on her knees and looked me intently in the eye. "I'm glad he's on your case. He's an ass, but he's gonna find out what's wrong, and he's gonna fix it."

"Cuddy, I'm telling you, it's nothing."

"I know," she nodded, knowing better than to argue. "You're probably right. But we all care about you, and you're a big asset to this hospital, and we're not letting you leave until we know for sure. Okay?"

I sighed, resigned.

"Okay."

She gave me a final encouraging little smile before standing to go.

"Oh—" She turned back to me, remembering something. "And don't worry about the meeting, okay? I told the committee we can push it to next week, but if you need longer that's fine. Just focus on getting better."

Oh god. Oh shit. The meeting.

The meeting we had scheduled for that afternoon that would hopefully officially kick off fundraising for a reproductive health research center I had pitched. The one that I'd been planning for for weeks.

I sat up in my bed, reaching toward her with a sudden panic.

"Oh my god, Cuddy, I—"

"It's okay, it's okay! Lie back down..."

"Shit— I completely forgot, I'm so sorry, I can do it, I'm prepped—"

"Lawrence." She gently brought me back down to the pillow. "We have time. I promise. The center's not gonna fail just because you bumped your head. Rest up, and when you're back on your feet, we'll have the meeting. And it'll go great."