In Sickness and Sonnets - A House MD & Dead Poets Society Fanfiction

Time of Death

Wilson stands, hands on hips, fingers clenching and unclenching as he barely waits for House to put the phone down before launching into his rant.

"House, what you just did is beyond insane, even for you. You had no right to barge in there and wave that in his face!" Wilson pulls the revolver from his coat and throws it on House's desk. "I have seen you cross countless lines, usually with at least some purpose, but that—that is not a line I ever even imagined. You are not to go near him again, understand?" Wilson commands, slightly surprised at the lack of interruptions, House only watching the fury grow behind his calm exterior. "And another thing."

This time, the interruption comes,
"I get it, I get it, I'm evil and should be punished. We both know that's Cuddy's job." House quips, a suggestive tone laced in the latter part of his sentence. "Ooh, aren't you lucky? You might just get to witness it first-hand." He jokes, glancing over Wilson's shoulder as Cuddy walks into the office, eyes trained on only one of the men. "Wilson said you might spank me. Should I be worried?" Wilson's palm now obscures his face as Cuddy approaches House.

"I've just received a complaint of you waving a gun in a patient's face. Now, I've heard many stories from your patients before, but this I find-" Her eyes find the gun laying on his desk, and she sighs, joining Wilson in covering her face. "Oh God, he wasn't lying." She sighs, turning to Wilson. "And you just let him..?"

"Ah- not, not exactly."

"He kicked my cane! Blatant abuse of the crippled." House's mock-indignant tone and total lack of anger almost sound like admiration, if not amusement.

"I... Can't excuse this. House, you and your team are off of this case as soon as he's out of that C.T." She concludes with a sigh, walking out the door.

"Cuddy- Cuddy wait!" Wilson calls out, following her out into the hallway.

"Oh, don't you start! You're lucky I think sometimes House needs assaulting." She remarks, still walking down the hall.
He's about to chase after her when his pager goes off. Oh. Oh God.
He speeds down the hall, coat billowing behind him as he turns the corner.

"Need a crash cart!" He yells to the nurses, running into the C.T. room.

"Cameron! What happened?" Wilson yells urgently.

"I don't know!" she replies, already busy with the bag mask. "He just went into tachycardia during the C.T." she adds, quickly checking his pulse.
"No pulse! Wilson!"

"Charging to 200." The defibrillator whirs to life, screaming at high charge. "Clear!" Wilson snaps, and Cameron pulls back as the shock jolts Neil's body, waiting for it to dissipate to place a finger on his carotid.

"Nothing!"

Come on, Neil. "Charging!" Cameron finishes the bag mask, pushing oxygen into him between each jolt.
"Clear!" He yells again.

"Still nothing."

Come on, come on! "Push Amiodarone! Now!" He commands, continuing defibrillation.
Again. Again. Again!

"Wilson. Wilson!" Cameron urges, trying to stop his arms. "Wilson! Enough! We need to move on to time of death."
Just one more. That's all he needs. Just one more.

"Wilson!" Cameron shouts, Wilson having shouldered her out of the way and administering one last shock.

"Come on, Neil!" He pleads as he places two fingers on Neil's neck.

The pulse. A beat, faint but steady under his fingertips. He's alive. Wilson lets go of everything, all his stress in one, massive sigh.

"Stable. Normal rhythm." Wilson's grip slackens, relief hitting him in a dizzying rush. He exhales, shaky but resolute, as he rests the paddles back onto the cart.

"Get him on antiarrhythmics and I.V. fluids," Wilson instructs, "and prep for ICU; I'll order furosemide for the fluids."

Cameron raises a brow. "You're thinking fluid accumulation? Wilson, what aren't you telling me?"

He casts a cursory glance to Neil, then back at her. "We've been thinking pulmonary. House... He knows something I don't. Had that stupid glint in his eye." He sighs, rubbing his temples. "We all need some rest. Let's hope he holds through the night." With this, he leaves the imaging room, walking back to his office.