Chapter Four

Yeees, I'm back online, so groan and hide behind your couches everyone. When I read all the reviews the fairies left me, I squeed until I passed out. It was good. Uh, exams are over, so I will inundate you with posts of various natures now, although I will drop out of existence again in about a month, when the non-trial exams happen upon me. Urg.

Now, here's a duty that I sadly neglected and missed greatly... Keridwen89: Foreman not being there? Hmm, now you bring it to my attention... oh the symbolism of it all. Although one has to admit, kangeroo ears don't go terribly deep. Sawyer: You know she's got a mental tail. You just know it. And I will... update 'son' that is. I do hope you mean 'soon' g (of the simple name. I like it): Wilson in this chapter. Lots of him. Do enjoy. tpel: Sorry, no symtoms worsening. And no angst because angst really irks me. Well, badly written angst, which is the usual sort, and I won't presume to be able to do any better, so let's not go there. Heh, baseline weirdness. Excellent way to put it. Nice. MagickalStar135: Juuust counting the chapters here and...yes... I think... yeah, this is the last one. Good or bad thing? AilciA: You know he deserves it. As for the 'no idea-ness', that's my idea of suspense, hee. darkangel38: No, somewhere along the lines of cute is where I was aiming. Well, it isn't a 180 degree turn about, anyway. Glad you liked it.evila-elf: Oh man, you got the bunny picture so perfectly. That's exactly it. And actually, that's kinda the core image, ie. the thing that I started with when I wrote this fic. And don't stop reading! I promise to try to stop being so silly! iceicekatie: Hmm, me neither. Oh wait, I'm mean to know that aren't I. Damn. And as to the age old philosophical question... well, ask House I guess. tranquil-eyes: excellent synopsis. I like it. Please continue reading. BookwormKiwi: Yay, confusion! ps: are you? A kiwi, that is? Will disembowelment follow if I make amusing sheep noises? wonanee: 'Mistery' Yes. Lots of that. Now, explanition! felixgirl: Oh yeah. Terrifying. Maybe I should up the rating? Seriously.

'Well, he's back,' announced the concerned face, although its features had now resolved into resigned amusement, tinged with a weariness born out of repetition.

House blinked, working his facial muscles for a second, then attempted to sit up, for he was lying on the cold tile of the clinic floor, and couldn't for the life of him remember how he'd gotten there. A hand splayed on his chest restrained him, and it felt impossibly hot through his button down shirt and t-shirt beneath that. His muscles were signing in one by one, to tell him they were feeling sore and really quite put out about this whole business.

'Just lie there for a bit House. You took quite a knock to the head when you collapsed.' That was Wilson's excellent concern.

'Oookay.' Then the actual words registered, and House was interested, lifting his head briefly to scan the small room. 'I collapsed? Really? How come?' Cuddy was kneeling on one side, Wilson on the other, both watching him carefully like worried parents with a hyperactive child.

'Fairy dust apparently.'

House rolled his head from where he'd let it come back to rest on the floor, looking at her with a dubious expression, but his leg was aching something powerful, and everything about this just seemed too real to be part of the prior hallucinogenic dream. Feeling he'd had enough of being stood over (well, kneeled over really), he sat up quickly before Wilson could stop him. He shook his head to clear the brief wave of dizziness, but otherwise suffered no ill effects apart from the muted grumbling of a kink in his neck.

'Fairy dust?' He asked, noticing that on the ground around him was a fine, sparkling grey powder, like crushed granite. He dabbed the tip of his index finger into some of it and brought the digit up for inspection, the other hand on the floor behind him so he could lean back on it.

'One of the clinic patients you were seeing in fact was a psych ward escapee. And a bit of a prankster. He felt he had a beef to make up with doctors in general. Claims that that stuff 'makes you understand what the crazies go through'…' Cuddy trailed off expectantly. House raised his gaze from studying the dust to studying her. He raised innocent eyebrows.

'What, want me to explain the amazing high I'm having?'

'This stuff is deactivated now- we tried to get the labs to test it. That's how we knew you'd be waking up soon. I don't think it's an upper as such though,' stated Wilson cautiously.

'No,' agreed Cuddy. 'We found you in here conked out on the floor in REM sleep- dreaming.'

'You had a tail,' House told her seriously.

'What was I?' Asked Wilson, mimicking the curiosity of an eight year old boy on Christmas morning. 'The dream hallucination you, or the dream real you? And were we… going out for lunch today?' House frowned, dream tangling with reality and dragging at his thoughts.

'That was yesterday. It's possible you have a concussion from hitting your head when you collapsed.'

'Yeah, it's…' House grimaced, wiping the dust off his finger and using that hand to massage his thigh, 'also possible that I just need my Vicodin and to get off this damn floor.' He cast around for his cane, seeing it leaning against the exam table and too far away to be of use. He looked pointedly at Wilson.

'Just sit for a bit longer,' compromised the oncologist. House rolled his eyes.

'Is there something you want to tell us Jimmy? Because I had always believed that one needs a uterus to have children and therefore qualify for the title of mother.' House used his most scathing tone, but it wasn't cutting any ice.

'Nah, this is manly paternal instinct. It's easy to see how you might have got them confused.'

'I'm warning you- if you force me to sit here, I'll tell you in lengthy and boring detail about my dream.'

Cuddy shrugged nonchalantly. 'Can't be much worse than the usual rubbish that comes out of your mouth.' She pushed off the floor though, standing and brushing the dust off her.

'Ouch. Don't spare any kindness for the cripple lying any floor will you?' As he retorted, House realised he could feel the lump of the pill bottle in his pocket. With the last streamers of fog evaporating from his mind, he was able to separate the dream pills from the real pills. And luckily, he hadn't gone and given the real pills to Chase.

Glaring up at Cuddy, lest she challenge him (she was ignoring him), he put more weight on his left side so he could awkwardly reach into his pocket and draw out the bottle. He noticed briefly the pattern of fine grey dust where it clung to his trousers, and grimaced.

'I'm guessing,' he swallowed the pills dry, willing them to dissolve down to his leg, 'that you didn't find me lying neatly on my back.' By the look and feel of it, he'd landed on his leg, hard.

'No. I think you'd know by now that people rarely collapse neatly into the coffin position.' Cuddy had moved to the door, stepping outside to find someone to clean up the dust, once House was out of there.

'No such luck for the undertakers.' House grimaced again as a sudden stab of blinding pain rose up from the general loud clamour, not stopping at his leg but sinking long claws into his torso, trying to stop his heart. For once, he couldn't help doubling over, hunching around the leg with a grunt.

'House,' Wilson's voice was laced with terrified concern. House rarely, if ever, actually let his pain show though. 'Are you OK?'

'What does it look like Sherlock?' Growled House, gritting his teeth. 'I just need to stand up,' he told his friend, uncurling with an effort, gingerly waiting for the pain to strike again. What he actually wanted to do was lie very still, with a morphine drip hooked into him, but that wasn't an option. Wilson looked at him dubiously, but obligingly stood and fetched House's cane, standing near enough while he struggled upright that he could help if House stumbled, but far away enough that he couldn't be accused of doing so.

Now upright, House stood for several long seconds, trying to control his breathing with fresh pain rippling through him. Wilson patiently waited until House looked at him, indicating that he was ready to go.

'Oh, one second,' Wilson stopped him, a slight smirk on his face. House raised a sardonically questioning eyebrow, but in explanation, Wilson simply walked around behind him and gently brushed off his back. House rolled his eyes to the ceiling as his friend walked around him once, studiously making sure there was no dust left, before nodding in satisfaction, and leading the way out.

As they trailed through the corridors and back up to House's office (because whatever House said, Wilson still knew he needed to sit down), Wilson questioned House again on his dream.

'You should have been a psychologist, not an oncologist,' House told him as he sank gratefully into his desk chair, standing his cane between his knees so he could play with it as a talked. The Vicodin was thankfully finally starting to sink in.

'I've never trusted psychologists,' said Wilson thoughtfully.

'What a perfect reason to become one. If you know all the tricks, they can't be used on you.'

'Is that why you became a doctor?'

'I dreamed I was insane,' stated House. Wilson tried to curb his triumphant expression. The way to get House to talk about something he didn't want to was to ask him about something he wanted to talk about even less.

'So that's what the guy meant about understanding being crazy?'

'Most likely. Although the dream was being very symbolic. Actually I dreamed I was hallucinating… at least, no one else claimed to be able to see them.'

'Symbolic how?' Asked Wilson suspiciously. House thought back on his dream with amusement.

'Cameron was a little guardian angel. She probably would have been Florence Nightingale, only I don't know what she looks like. Chase was,' House snorted, pausing, 'Chase had kangaroo ears, which looked rather comic. Cuddy was some sort of daemon and Foreman wasn't really there.'

'Sounds deep,' smiled Wilson. House regarded him for a moment, a smile curving the corners of his mouth. He could see Wilson was dying to ask what he had been, but could also see that Wilson had learnt the golden rule that if House hadn't offered the information, then he wasn't going to get it no matter what. And he was glad that he'd had the foresight to teach Wilson this rule, because there really was no way he would tell Wilson that all the signs had pointed towards Wilson being the saviour.

Although, deep down, he suspected Wilson already knew that he was House's saviour.

The End.

(yay, soppy and cheap ending! Hope you all enjoyed the wild trip ride. Will post other stories shortly)