Chapter 12: Cause the Vandals Took the Handles

"Dr. House?" the nurse who entered first addressed him. "Oh, excuse me," she said, turning as she noticed Cate. "I didn't realize Dr. House had a visitor. He hasn't had any since Dr. Wilson left over a week ago."

"No," Cate said rising from the chair, "I'm not a visitor. I'm an adjunct professor here. I was called in on a consult regarding Dr. House's case. Just came onboard." She extended her right hand, "Dr. Cate Milton." She carefully avoided House's narrowed gaze as she shook the nurse's hand.

"Oh," the nurse said dropping her moist, limp hand to her side when Cate let go. "Well we're here to perform a medical procedure so I'm afraid you'll have to step outside."

"I'd like to stay if you don't mind."

"No . . . not at all," the nurse replied, the hesitation evident in her voice. "Well if you're staying, then maybe you can convince him to make this easier on all of us. If he'd only . . ."

"You go to hell," House growled.

They all turned to look at him. In a matter of moments, House's demeanor had changed completely. He was sitting up slightly, on alert, his whole body tensed, his fists clenching and pulling against his restraints obviously readying himself for a fight.

And Cate noticed his eyes. His formerly languid gaze had turned to an expression of wrathful terror. She felt the hair on the back of her neck rise in response to the increasing tension in the room.

And in anticipation of what was about to happen.

"Now Dr. House," the nurse said, striding forward once more, "Are we going to have to go through this again?"

House spat at her.

The nurse nodded her head slightly to the male orderly who had been standing behind her. He moved forward, close to House's head.

"Wait," Cate said, moving closer to the now frantically struggling House. Too late. His latest attacker had by this time successfully strapped House's head to the mattress. His eyes were rolling madly and he continued to pull his fists against the bars of his bed making a discordant clanking sound.

"What are you going to do to him?" Cate asked.

"Feeding tube. He's been refusing meals and this hospital frowns on allowing any of our patients to commit suicide by downing pills or . . ." she turned her attention back to House, raising her voice to him as if he were an unruly child, ". . . starving themselves while under its care. Now, are you going to be a good boy and open your mouth?"

"This is cruel," Cate said, her own voice rising with her anger and consternation. "Surely you could use a sedative on him?"

The nurse turned back to Cate as she snapped on a pair of gloves and took up a tube from the nearby cart. "Sedation for this patient is completely unwarranted for this procedure," the nurse said coldly. "Of course, he could make things much easier on himself if he'd just cooperate. It's his own fault that this takes longer and is more difficult a process."

"But you don't have to manhandle him like this . . .," Cate began.

"This procedure has always been performed according to doctor's orders."

"Then your supervising physician is a sadist."

The nurse exhaled audibly. "If you are unable to allow us to do our jobs, then you will have to leave this room."

Cate looked over at the still struggling House who was cursing under his breath. Then she looked back at the nurse.

"No," she said stepping closer to House's side. "I'm not leaving him. I'm staying."

"Then please let us finish," the nurse said. "Besides, he'll be completely fine in just a minute."

"What do you mean 'fine?'" Cate said but stopped as the nurse walked right past her and addressed House again.

"Are you gonna open your mouth?"

House's eyes flashed dangerously and he emitted a low, animalistic growl between his clenched teeth.

Another nod from the nurse and the orderly grabbed House's nose and held it closed.

Cate's jaw dropped in horror at the same time as she instinctively grabbed for House's hand which was convulsing along the bed's side railing. As soon as her fingers touched his, he clutched at her, desperately holding onto her hand as if she were his lifeline.

She sucked in a quavering breath looking down at their joined hands. House's continued to shudder and tremble, the knuckles of his fist turning white while her own hand began to feel numb because of the violence of his grip. Like electricity running through a wire, she sensed him telegraph his fear, his panic, his anger into her through their joined hands.

But just as she was going to speak up for him again, House gave out a dejected groan and opened his mouth to gasp for air.

The nurse, evidently from studied practice, was ready. She pounced on him like a spider on an insect, snaking the tube past his teeth before he could even let loose a shriek of fury.

"There. There you go," she said in a soothing tone that rang exaggerated and false, "Breathe through your nose. Relax. Relax your throat. It's okay to swallow."

Angry tears had formed in House's eyes as he gagged on the tube continuing to be fed down his esophagus.

"Now, almost there. Yes, watch him. We're almost there," the nurse was speaking again still without a hint of genuine compassion. Then she said, "Okay, there he goes."

Cate looked from House's hand, which had suddenly gone slack, to his face. She gasped when she saw the completely hollow expression in his eyes. The formerly kinetic blue was glazed over and his entire face and body had gone totally lifeless.

House had stopped fighting entirely and in fact, if Cate had not checked the nearby heart and respiration monitors, she would have thought he was dead.

"See?" said the nurse. "I told you. No need for sedatives on this patient. He does this every time."

"He's . . . he's . . . catatonic?" Cate said.

"Oh yes."

"He's not faking?"

"Nope. Prove it to you." She addressed the orderly. "Take off his restraints."

The orderly moved to release House's head, then took both hands out of the straps that had secured him to the bed. House's arms flopped uselessly to his sides. The nurse picked up one of his arms and let it drop. House hit himself with a soft thud.

"Can't fake that," the nurse said a bit too cheerfully as she continued to work. "I just wish he'd do this sooner. Instead of giving us so much crap in the beginning."

"And he does this every time?" Cate asked.

"Yep. Like clockwork. Right at the point when we've successfully intubated him . . ."

"Right when he's lost the battle and continuing to fight would be futile," Cate corrected.

"Yeah, I guess so. But like I said, I really wish he'd do this sooner and make our jobs that much easier. This crap is really unnecessary."

Cate nodded her head but to what she was actually agreeing to, the nurse thankfully had no idea. She stood back and let the staff finish the procedure. After the tube was taken out of House's throat, his hands but not his head were re-secured to the bed.

Then everyone left the room except for Cate who once more moved the chair close to House's bedside, sat down upon it, clasped his insensible right hand with both of her own and wept.

Cate cried herself into an uncomfortable sleep. She slept for over an hour until the regular nurse making rounds came in to take House's blood pressure and vital statistics. The nurse accidentally bumped Cate's chair just as she was finishing up. When she did, Cate was roused from her fitful slumbers.

Upon opening her eyes, she immediately looked up into House's face, tightening her grip on his right hand. The cobalt blue eyes stared back at her, still vacant, still devoid of life, of hope.

She squeezed his hand and waited for the nurse to leave before she spoke.

"House? House? Can you hear me? I'm still here. I won't leave you."

She pressed his hand again and almost laughed out loud when she felt his fingers move within her grasp.

Cate looked at House just as he blinked twice and then gave an almighty gasp. He croaked, "No!" and began thrashing his head.

"It's okay," she said. "It's okay now. I'm here. It's me, Cate. Can you hear me? Can you understand what I'm saying?"

"Of course I can," House said hoarsely as he stilled. "I didn't suddenly become an idiot."

"Do you know where you are?"

House coughed several times. Cate stood and brought him a cup of water, offering him a drink. He turned his head away.

"Why do you keep talking to me like I'm some sort of moron? Asking me stupid questions?"

Cate clenched her jaw. "Because you were out of it. Really out of it. And I'm trying to check how alert you are now."

House quieted, finally acquiescing to taking a few sips from the straw that she still held in front of him. Looking up at her somewhat sheepishly, he asked, "How long?"

"An hour at least. Do you . . . do you remember what happened?"

"Of course I do," he said from the corner of his mouth as he looked away again.

"And you do that every time . . .?"

"YES!" The lines in his forehead deepened as he furrowed his brow. "Now, can we please talk about something else?"

Cate nodded her head. "Of course. What would you like to talk about?"

"Anything. Anything else."

"Alright," Cate said before sitting back down and taking hold of his hand once more. She inhaled, held the breath for a few seconds and let it out audibly as she said, "Then let's talk about how old you were when you were first molested."