Title: Visiting Hours (7/06)

Author: tinhutlady

Rating: everyone

Fandom: House/Logan crossover; House/Cuddy pairing

Note: Warning about the situation Ð if you haven't seen the season finale for House (and I haven't, but have read up on it), this might contain spoilery.

 

 

The small, regular beeping sound was extremely irritating, House decided, but when he tried to recall whether or not it was his alarm clock or something else, he found his mind wouldn't cooperate, nor would his hand when he tried to reach over and shut whatever it was off. Opening his eyes didn't improve the situation, since he wasn't exactly sure where he was. The only fact he could be confident of at this moment was the fact that his body was giving him hell, all over.

 

"'Bout time you woke up," said a male voice he couldn't place.

 

House focused on a large shadowy figure nearby in the dimly lit room and waited for his eyes to adjust. Sure enough, the room was not as dark as he had previously thought and he began to make out the human figure in a chair at the foot of the bed he was lying in Ð a hospital bed, House realized.

 

"What happened?" he rasped, his throat incredibly sore.

 

"You were shot," the man answered.

 

Instantly everything clicked in the steel trap House called a brain, as every detail, every pain, and every hallucination he had experienced previously shuffled themselves into sequential order.

 

"I was shot," House echoed as he wondered just how much damage had been done. He stared at the man, trying to determine if it was Wilson, Foreman, or Chase in the chair. "And?"

 

"And what?" snorted the man. He leaned forward and, for one frightening moment, House believed there were horns on his head. "I just got here. 'Bout all I can see is a wound on your neck. I think there's one more."

 

It was Logan, and only Logan Ð no one else, not that there should be anyone else, thought House, with a frown. He didn't invite friendships, he reminded himself. Those only brought complications. Still, where was everyone?

 

"What time is it?" House asked.

 

Logan checked his watch. "Eight minutes after four in the morning."

 

House blinked. "Did visiting hours change?"

 

There was a chuckle. "For me, these are the safest hours to visit Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital at the moment. And to answer your next question, you've been in here for four days and they've just started letting you sleep alone, so things must be getting better."

 

"Turn on a light."

 

Logan rose and complied, switching on the small fluorescent wall light behind House's head. House took advantage of the light to study the machines around him, assessing whether any of them meant serious complications. He breathed a mental sigh of relief at the minimal amount of equipment around him.

 

"Need a drink or something?"

 

House shook his head. "I'm okay," he said, even though wetting his lips was hard work at the moment. "I shouldn't drink until I know how badly I'm hurt."

 

He tried to move and groaned when his body told him not to. Glaring at Logan, he said suddenly, "How many times have you been shot?" Logan sat back down and his eyes checked over the room warily, so House continued, "The room's not bugged."

 

Logan shrugged, relaxing only a little. "No clue. I don't keep track."

 

"And it doesn't phase you," said House, wishing he had some of Logan's mutant healing ability. He still didn't understand all that Logan was capable of, but he did know the man could survive bullet wounds without any medical attention Ð something he envied to no end at the moment.

 

"I wouldn't say that," Logan confessed, leaning back in the chair and putting his boots up on the end of the bed. "Good shot to the head will knock me out, and all shots hurt like hell, House. Don't think I feel them any less even if they don't kill me," he muttered.

 

"Sorry," said House, and he meant it. Just talking about pain made his body ache all the more.

 

"Psychiatric's upstairs, right?"

 

"Yes," said House in a puzzled voice. "Why?"

 

"Well one of us may need it. I thought I just heard you sayÉ."

 

"Yeah, yeah," retorted House.

 

He looked about the room, trying to take his mind off the situation, when his gaze fell on a small potted plant, tiny really, perched on the corner of the table meant to serve food to a patient as they sat in bed.

 

House's eyebrow rose sharply. "You brought me a plant?"

 

Logan shrugged. "Here when I got here," he said. He rose again and stretched, cocking his head and looking through the glass, even though the blinds were closed and nothing was visible. "Mind if I use the John?"

 

The instant the bathroom door was closed, the room door slid wide, with Cuddy coming in with her mind on a mission, until she saw House's eyes were open. The very slight movement of her eyes to the ivy and back told House volumes, but he only sighed.

 

"Let me guess, I'm late for clinic duty," he said, his throat now seriously scratchy from having talked so much.

 

"Shut up," she replied as she fished an ice chip from a small pitcher with a little plastic spoon and approached him. "Here."

 

House let the cold substance melt on his tongue before speaking again.

 

"Did you change your hours?"

 

She frowned and put the spoon down next to the plant. "No. I have a fiscal report due this morning in an eight o'clock meeting."

 

"You're not cooking the books are you?"

 

"Don't be crude. Have you seen that Dr. Logan person?"

 

House's eyes narrowed. "Why? Is he here too?"

 

She shook her head and made a notation on a clipboard in her hand. "No, but I'm interested in him and I can't find anyone anywhere who has heard of him, except you. I called him; told him what had happened with you. He was entering the hospital as one of the clinic patients was leaving, and he stopped her and made her turn around. He took the woman to Wilson and had him check her for cancer. Then he disappeared without visiting you."

 

House felt one of the corners of his mouth lift in a small smug smile. "And the patient?"

 

"Had cancer," Cuddy replied with a strange look. "I'm wondering how he knew just by looking at the woman."

 

"No kidding. He's usually better with heart conditions," House said in all seriousness. "What did she come in with initially?"

 

"Dog bite," Cuddy answered as she checked the readouts of the machines in the room and headed out again. "Get some rest. Your entourage will be in shortly to check on you." She made it to the sliding door before she hesitated, turning. "I am glad to see you awake," she muttered before exiting the room.

 

Logan peered out of the bathroom, a sly grin on his face. "She'll be back."

 

"Yeah, she'll realize in a minute I couldn't have turned on the light by myself," agreed House. "And the woman? How'd you know?"

 

Logan moved to the door and peered out, then looked back at House. "Dog she'd had for years kept sniffing her leg every day, same spot. Finally bit her there. She was muttering that when I bumped into her. Reminded me of that story you told me the other day about dogs smelling cancer."

 

House grinned a sly grin himself. "Was the dog the only one that smelled the cancer, Logan?"

 

"Psych ward's upstairs, House."

 

"Right," House said as Logan vanished into the hall beyond. "Gotcha."

 

Before he closed his eyes again, exhausted from so much activity, he stared at the ivy and smiled. Cuddy had called Logan so House could have a visitor. Cuddy had brought him a plant. Cuddy had checked on him and fed him an ice chip. Could it be that Cuddy had a soft spot after all?

 

And House smiled softly to himself as he drifted back to sleep.