Jul. 24th, 2009

[identity profile] whatstheddx.livejournal.com
"Well, I have to admit," Wilson said, standing by the door of House's bedroom, "going from a romantic weekend away to an indefinite amount of time at a psychiatric hospital is a new one, even for you."

House looked up at him as he placed another folded up shirt into his suitcase, which was lying open on his bed. When he'd arrived home after dropping Cuddy off at her place, Wilson had been waiting for him on the steps of his apartment. Wilson had been able to see that House wasn't kidding around and wasn't being funny - the sullen look on House's face and the way he held himself had said it all. "I take it Cuddy knows about what you're doing," Wilson had asked.

House had simply nodded. When Cuddy had awoken the following morning and breakfast had arrived at their room, House had sat on the edge of the bed and told Cuddy what was happening, that Wilson was going to meet him at his apartment and that Wilson was handling the arrangements to have House officially committed. The drive home was quiet and he'd offered her just a small kiss and told her he'd call her once he was settled. And now he was in his bedroom, slowly packing his things for what could end up being a long stay at Mayfield psychiatric hospital.

Wilson put his hands on his hips. "You sure you want to do this?"

House looked back down to his suitcase with a humourless snort. "I have to do this."

"There are other, less drastic ways of getting help."

"Did I just hear you trying to talk me out of getting help?" House asked incredulously.

Wilson held his hands up. "No. That is not what I just said. I said less drastic. I mean, Cuddy's eight month's pregnant. You're going to be a father. You don't think it's important to be around for her during the last stages?"

House looked back up to him. "I need to do this for me. Being around for Cuddy isn't going to mean anything if I can't actually be there for her. Or for our kid. Besides. You know me. You know what I'm like." He picked up a pair of folded up pants and put it into his suitcase. "I'll cheat, I'll lie, I'll do everything I can to get out of getting help. Drastic is the only option."

Wilson sighed. "I have to say, I never thought the day would come where I'd actually hear you admit any of that."

"Yeah, well." He placed another shirt into his suitcase. "Things change."

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[identity profile] whatstheddx.livejournal.com
ooc: I am going to write a few ficlets dealing with House in therapy. This is the first of them.


"Rise and shine, Greg," a voice announced loudly and cheerfully in the room.

House stirred and cracked his eyes open with a squint. Immediately, he was disoriented: a foreign room, a foreign bed, someone completely foreign standing over him. But in the next instant, it all came rushing back. He was in Mayfield. He'd been confined to his room all night, barely managing to get much sleep. In the early hours of the morning, he'd finally drifted off and had dreamless, restless sleep. And now, he felt like he'd hardly slept at all.

"Survive your first night alright?" the cheerful nurse asked. "I'm Tony, by the way."

House closed his eyes again and turned his head towards the wall. "Go away."

Tony chuckled. "Afraid not. It's 7.30. Rules are all patients have to be up by this time."

"Go. Away."

House startled as the bed covers were suddenly ripped off him. "Up you get, or you'll be late for your first community meeting."

House glared at him. "Do I look like I'm interested in attending your stupid community meeting?"

"It's not my community meeting, Greg. It's yours. I'm not the one who's here to get better."

With a great deal of reluctance, House sat up and scrubbed his hands through his hair and over his face. He waited for the nurse to leave him alone so he could huddle straight back under the bed covers again but it soon became apparent that the nurse wasn't going anywhere. He'd taken a seat on the chair by the desk, watching House expectantly. "What, you're gonna sit there and watch me get dressed?"

"No, I'm going to sit here and make sure you don't return to bed. Have a shower, get dressed and then I'll leave you alone so you can attend the community meeting."

House was beginning to feel like he was in prison. "Perfect," he muttered. But then he collected his cane and got to his feet. He fetched a towel from the linen rack out in the hall and went to the bathroom, where he had a hot shower. No more than seven minutes into the shower, however, a loud knocking rudely interrupted him and the nurse who'd been in his room called out for House to be done in four minutes or someone would be sent in to check up on him. Chagrined, House finished off his shower and got dressed as quickly as he could, if only to avoid the humiliation of someone catching him naked. He wasn't the slightest bit pleased to be greeted with the nurse's cheerful smile when he stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in sweatpants, a t-shirt and a hoodie, his pyjamas clutched to his chest.

"If you want to do laundry," the nurse said, "you can help yourself to the washing machines down the hall at any time."

"You mean this place doesn't come with hotel service? I demand a refund."

The nurse chuckled again. "The Mayfield is hardly the Hilton, Greg. I'll see you at the community meeting in twenty minutes."

He watched the nurse head down the hall and House sighed quietly in attempt to keep his temper under control.

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