A/N: Well, my friends. It's been an unbelievable amount of fun and I've had a great time writing this piece. I'm so grateful for all of your reviews, which really encourage me to continue writing. Alas, all things must come to an end. And so, here is the final chapter of Sugar On The Asphalt. God and Peace.
RainyDayz
… … … … … …
Well, there's a few things I gotta say
Make no mistake, I'm mad
'Cause every good thing I've had
Abandoned me
… …… … … … …
House shifted awkwardly in the world's most uncomfortable hospital chair, muttering oaths under his breath as he turned up the volume on his Gameboy. He glanced at the figure in the bed and then back to the screen. The beeping of the heart monitor was distracting him. His avatar had already died twice. His brow furrowed in concentration.
… … … … … … …
All I want to do is hide
It's graduation day
Everything I learned inside
Didn't seem to pay
… … … … … … …
He'd had to take off his jacket and lay it over the oblivious Aussie's upper body when the firefighter told him that they were going to break in the windshield. The glass shattered inward, scattering everywhere and splashing quietly into the water as House used his arm to guard his eyes.
… … … … … …
I've had my fill of palm trees
And lighting up Grauman's Chinese
So, tell me now - what more do you need?
Take me to Walter Reed tonight
Baby, I've lost the will for fighting
Over everything
… … … … … …
The diagnostician darted his eyes back to the hospital bed. The blonde shifted lethargically, mumbling incoherently. His head turned and he sighed softly, but he didn't wake up. House "hmphed" and went back to his video game.
… … … … … …
There's a few things I gotta say
Make no mistake, I'm mad
'Cause every good thing I've had
Abandoned me
A sad and lonesome me.
… … … … … …
He had stayed out of the way, only grabbing Chase's legs and lifting them as the paramedics gently dragged the Aussie through the windshield. They hefted him onto a gurney and secured him, loading him into the ambulance. House crawled out after them and was met with an unappreciated helping hand.
"Sir, we need to take a look at you. Your head is bleeding and you're limping. Your leg may have been injured in the accident and you might have a concussion."
House rolled his eyes and sent the paramedic a withering glare.
"Who hired you people? Dr. Phil? Beat it."
He brushed passed him and stepped into the ambulance. He argued with the paramedics all the way to the hospital, slapping at their hands when they tried to assess his injuries, all the while keeping an eye on his prone duckling. When they arrived, he let them take Chase to the ER and hobbled into Wilson's office to get fixed up.
House would have given anything for a camera to capture the look on the Oncologist's face when he walked through the door.
"What did you do? And where's your cane?"
"I'll tell you if you slap a band aid on me and give me a lollipop."
Wilson grabbed his medical kit and motioned for his friend to sit on the couch.
"What happened?"
"Car accident."
"You got into an accident on your bike and made it out looking this good?"
House shifted, "No. Chase's car."
Wilson stared at him, puzzled, as he dabbed the diagnostician's cut with an alcohol drenched gauze pad and shined a penlight in his eyes.
"Why were you driving Chase's car?"
House would have smacked his forehead in frustration, but it was already hurting.
"You moron. He was giving me a ride home."
The Oncologist's eyes widened in concern.
"Is he all right?"
"He's in the ER."
"Damn…"
"Well said, Jimmy."
… … … … … …
I'm the walking wounded
I'd say it to your face
But I can't find my place
So, tell me now - what more do you need?
… … … … … …
Aside from the broken ribs puncturing his lungs and the concussion, Chase had only suffered minor cuts and bruises. House shook his head in disbelief at the Aussie's luck. He hadn't even been wearing his seatbelt. Statistics showed that he should have been thrown clear out of the vehicle. Of course, his team ate statistics for breakfast and logic for lunch.
He'd had Chase moved to a private room after he'd gotten out of surgery. He dreaded the moment Cameron would find out about all of this. There would be teddy bears and festive balloons everywhere proclaiming "Get Well Soon!" He almost gagged at the thought, but he did look forward to some sort of basket filled with sugary treats.
… … … … … …
Take me to Walter Reed tonight
Baby, I've lost the will for fighting
Over everything
There's a few things I gotta say
Make no mistake, I'm mad
… … … … … …
The first thing Chase noticed was that he was finally warm. His brain was muddled from all the pain killers and for a moment he thought he was back in Melbourne.
Lord knows Jersey is never this warm…
He risked opening his eyes and found himself staring into the scruffy face of one Dr. House. He closed them again, groaning.
"Oh, God. I'm dead, aren't I? I'm dead and I've gone to hell. Either that, or we're still stuck in that stupid car and I'm in the process of dying…"
"Shut up, you whiner. Do you always complain this much? Wait, stupid question. Of course you do. You're you."
"Go awaaaay," came the plaintive moan.
"Can't. I have to make sure you don't kick off when I'm not watching. Plus, after our time together, I'd be lonely without you."
Chase reluctantly opened his eyes again.
"This is definitely hell."
House played with the IV line and grinned wickedly.
"Nonsense! Hell is having a runny nose in a room full of soggy tissues."
"House, let go of my IV."
"Oh, dear. Addicted to pain killers already?"
"No, I just don't want you injecting me with some sort of heavy metal."
"Dr. Chase -- I would never!"
The blonde Intensivist rolled his eyes and coughed, wincing at the hot stab of pain in his chest, breath hitching. House caught the tiny movement and frowned. He caned his way over to a drawer and pulled out a syringe. He limped back to the bed and grabbed the IV line. Chase eyed him suspiciously.
"Poisoning me already? What are you doing?" His accent was thick with exhaustion.
"I'm sending you back to LaLaLand so I don't have to put up with your constant whining."
"Leave it alone, House. I don't need--"
"Quiet. This is a delicate procedure."
"I said I don't need it. You just want to shut me up. This is stupid -- you're stupid… 'n who bloody paints a hospital room this color?.. 's gonna burn someone's retinas right out their heads…"
House fought the urge to smile at his duckling's obviously drug induced ramblings as the Aussie trailed off, eyes fluttering closed as the syringe's contents were emptied into his IV line.
The diagnostician tossed the needle into a receptacle and settled back down into the plastic chair. He turned his Gameboy back on and propped his feet up on Chase's hospital bed.
A few minutes later, Wilson popped his head through the doorway.
"Hey. Has he woken up yet?"
House didn't look up from the screen in his lap.
"Nope."
"Hmm. Make sure to let me know when he does."
"Uh huh."
"'Night, House."
"See ya, Jimmy."
Wilson closed the door, waited several seconds, and then peered through the glass. From where he was positioned, he could see that the avatar on House's Gameboy was dead, large bold letters flashing across the screen : GAME OVER. But the diagnostician didn't seem to be paying much attention to his video game.
The Oncologist smiled, shaking his head and making his way back to his office. He would have to bring Chase a get well fruit basket of some sort.
'Cause everything good thing I've had
Abondoned me.
A sad and lonesome me...
END
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May the words from my mouth and the thoughts from my heart be acceptable to you, O Lord, my rock and my defender. -- Psalms 19:14