Chapter Text
‘Dr. House’ The PT warned.
House ignored him.
‘Dr. House’ The PT repeated as his patient collapsed in a heap on the floor.
The exasperated PT sighed as he tried to work out exactly what he had done wrong in his life to deserve to have House as a patient.
House lay on an exercise mat in one of the PT department rooms, his left arm draped over his tightly closed eyes while his right hand clutched his thigh breathing heavily against the pain of the cramping muscles. He was pissed off and hurting, he’d been trying unsuccessfully to push through the pain ignoring the loud warning his leg was giving him to back off, he could feel the muscles being pushed to their limit until they rebelled and went into spasm leaving him lying on the floor with tears in his eyes trying not to deposit his lunch from the fiery agony consuming his right thigh.
They’d been working on some exercises using ankle weights when his thigh had cramped up, he’d been told not to push it but he didn’t listen, increasing the reps and insisting on using a weight that he knew was heavier than his leg could manage. What pissed him off was that the weight wasn’t even very heavy and his useless leg still couldn’t handle it.
The PT went and got a heating pad and draped it over House’s thigh removing the weight from his ankle and calling an end to the session, despite what some patients thought he didn’t like causing people pain but he was silently glad that House was currently too incapacitated to snap at him in a fit of independence.
‘Dr. House your progress has plateaued’ This earned him a glare ‘I know you have an appointment coming up with your Pain Doctor but right now you’re struggling to get through the new exercises and you’re going to start to undo all the progress you’ve made if you keep pushing yourself’ The PT informed his stubborn patient. ‘Hydrotherapy will take the pressure off your leg and joints and allow you to do these exercises.’ He counted to three in his head before House snapped back.
‘I know that moron. I’m a doctor, I’ve got an MD and everything.’
Point Nemo, the Pacific Ocean, the furthest point from land and more importantly the furthest place from House. It sounded hugely alluring right now but then so did the deepest pits of hell which couldn’t possibly be worse than his current situation.
The PT switched tactics resorting to the blunt honesty his patient was known for using in his practice ‘Dr. House with the amount of muscle you had removed and the extensive nerve damage your leg is never going to get back to pre-injury level of function.’
Tell me something I don't know House thought as he lay on the floor digging his nails into his palms as his leg cramped.
‘You’re missing a large amount of the muscles that control your posture, balance and gait. Lifting your leg, kneecap stabilisation and impact absorption are all controlled by the quad muscles.’
If Only they'd taught this in medical school House thought, ‘Doctor remember’ He reminded the idiot PT.
‘Is there a reason you’re so against hydrotherapy?’ Or do you just want to torture me the PT wondered to himself.
‘I don’t believe in pseudoscience and I’m not somebody's 86-year-old grandmother’ House snapped.
It was a lie, or at least a partial lie, he knew hydrotherapy had its benefits though he still pictured a pool full of geriatrics who were too much of a fall risk to exercise on land but the main reason was the thought of anyone seeing his mutilated leg and it’s hideous scar with the large crater where muscle should be. It had been over ten years since the infarction and House still hated looking at his leg, the pain and instability were a constant reminder of the medical screw-up he didn’t need to look at where they’d butchered him to.
The PT wasn’t paid enough for this. ‘I’m going to write you a referral to a PT that does hydrotherapy’ Mainly for my sanity he added silently ‘You can decide whether you want to see them or not’ He held out a tentative hand afraid that his patient might bite him.
If House hadn’t been in so much pain he’d have snarled at the outstretched hand but as he wasn’t sure he could get up alone he grudgingly accepted it and hauled himself shakily up onto his left foot hopping the few steps to his wheelchair.
He sat in reception trying to catch his breath, he’d refused to let the PT push his chair despite the still throbbing muscles and the way his hands shook he’d slowly propelled himself out of the therapy room parking himself in a corner while he waited for his leg to calm down enough to make his way out of the Physical therapy department.
House slowly wheeled out of the hospital, he technically had clinic duty but he was tired, sore and in a bad mood and it wasn’t like having clinic duty had ever stopped him from leaving early before. A few years ago House would have fallen into the nearest bar, taken a handful of Vicodin and drunk until the bartender took his keys now he settled for going back to the loft and playing the guitar at an obnoxiously loud volume.
The PT had a point that progress had plateaued, he’d built up a small amount of strength and stability in his right leg but progress had been slow and realistically there was a limit to how much his leg would improve, his leg would always be weak, the muscles would forever become fatigued easily and the pain would be there every day of House’s life.
PT had been a painful eye opener, the exercises had been modified more than once and he’d been shocked by how weak his leg was and how hard any exercises targeting his thigh were, he’d started using his wheelchair on days when he had PT after a particularly bad spasm had left him almost unable to walk and needing Wilson’s help to get home.
Wilson walked into the condo hearing the music long before he entered the loft, he cringed thinking of the neighbours, at least they owned the place and couldn’t be evicted. ‘GREG’ No response, ‘GREG’ He wasn’t sure if his partner was ignoring him or couldn’t hear him, Wilson walked over to the amp and turned it off receiving first a shocked look then a glare from House, it was going to be one of those evenings.
‘PT went well then’ Wilson said sarcastically, ‘Cuddy says you're in trouble for skipping clinic duty and leaving early again’ He pointed out.
House scoffed ‘Oh no maybe I’ll get detention’ He took a drink of Coke wishing it was bourbon. Putting his guitar aside he stood up slowly flinching slightly as he took a step, his damned leg had stiffened up again while he was playing, the music had provided a welcome distraction but the pain from the earlier session was making itself known again.
Wilson went to get changed leaving House to sulk knowing there was no point trying to have a conversation when his partner was in a mood like this it would be as much use as trying to reason with a snake that was coiled to strike, he took his time showering and changing his clothes while House stewed in the other room.
House had always said he could multitask and was currently sitting on a stool with a face like thunder glaring at the food he was cooking as if his anger alone could cook it. He was clearly in pain from PT, he was rubbing his leg and Wilson wasn’t even sure if House was aware of the action or if it was subconscious. His wheelchair was parked by the desk next to the kitchen, he was glad that House was using the wheelchair now after the battles the OT and PT had had to convince him that he would benefit from it and then fighting for approval from insurance only for House to ignore it for a week once it finally arrived.
Wilson knew he could never understand what it was like for House, even if House wasn’t so reluctant to talk about his disability Wilson didn’t experience the never-ending pain that his boyfriend did, he didn’t know what it was like to have to learn to walk again only to never fully regain mobility or be faced with the mobility he had achieved slowly deteriorating, he’d never experienced the pain and terror of detox and narcotics withdrawal whether from being cut off by his prescribing physician or through being locked in a psychiatric hospital with only hallucinations for company.
Wilson wasn’t sure he’d be strong enough to go through it all, Julie cheating on him hurt (which Wilson thought was hypocritical of him given his past behaviour) but that was nothing compared to your girlfriend authorising surgery against your wishes then leaving you disabled and broken.
Wilson was interrupted from his introspection by a dishcloth hitting him in the face 'Hate to intrude on your me time but dinner is ready' Wilson walked into the kitchen and grabbed the two plates as House climbed down from the high stool with a grunt of pain before limping over to his wheelchair placing as little weight on his right leg as he could, his right hand securely gripped his thigh while he held onto the kitchen counter and desk with his left hand.
On nights like this Wilson wondered how House had managed without the chair when it was hard for him just to walk a couple of feet while holding onto the furniture. House was able to balance a tray on his lap when he used his wheelchair though Wilson still tended to carry both of theirs when they were together, especially at work. However, that was more because Wilson inevitably ended up paying.
They ate quietly, Wilson could tell something was upsetting House you didn't know somebody for over twenty years and not pick up these things. Wilson knew House better than anyone it wasn't surprising that they'd gotten together Wilson often acted as a trigger for House's epiphanies, House had described Wilson's thought process as sloppy, undisciplined and not linear, House claimed that it complemented his, drove him avenues he wouldn't otherwise go down just being in his presence seemed to help House's thought process.
Wilson could read his boyfriend's expressions as if they were his own, so much of their communication was non-verbal. House read music and languages with fluency, and Wilson read House the same way.
House was sore from PT Wilson could tell by the tightness around his eyes and mouth and the way he shifted slightly in his seat unable to find a comfortable position to sit in without his leg hurting, he’d changed into his pyjamas after they’d eaten either seeking physical or emotional comfort from the soft worn fabric against his irritated leg. Sometimes when House was in pain the damaged nerves caused sensory overload and overstimulation as if his entire nervous system was misfiring not just his leg.
‘I could give you a massage’ Wilson offered as House moved again.
House grunted non-committally causing Wilson to frown, normally House was more than happy to get Wilson's hands on him unless his leg was too painful to be touched but House rarely gave vague answers.
‘Sorry I left my House to English translator in my office’ He teased ‘Could we try words this time?’
House smirked slightly at Wilson's teasing ‘I know you’re desperate to get your hands on my hot bod but maybe later.’
Now Wilson was concerned.
House was already stretched out on the bed with his eyes shut when Wilson entered, he was still wearing his Pyjamas and his expression with his closed eyes was unreadable but Wilson knew he wasn’t asleep. His wheelchair was parked by the bed and Wilson moved it slightly while keeping it within reach, he’d never realised how inappropriate it was to touch someone's mobility aids without their consent before he and House got together.
Wilson felt guilty remembering the time he'd grabbed House's cane to stop him from walking away while Wilson was trying to convince him to take a case.
‘Would you grab somebody's legs?' House had asked with a huff as he staggered into the elevator placing his hand against the wall to keep his balance.
Wilson hadn’t understood that mobility aids are an extension of a person's body, House could walk without his wheelchair but that didn’t mean it was OK for Wilson to move it out of his reach.
Wilson sat on the edge of the bed and bent down to kiss House pulling up the hem of his T-shirt, House smiled and opened his eyes returning the kiss and obediently lifting his arms as his T-shirt was pulled up over his chest and head. Wilson had his hands all over House’s bare torso kissing and biting his neck and chest moving down to House’s stomach, House was breathing heavily now as Wilson moved down towards his pelvis reaching for the waistband of House’s pyjamas before House grabbed his wrist and stopped him.
Wilson looked up at House startled.
‘Lights’ House said breathlessly ‘Turn the lights off.’
Wilson was confused, they’d stopped turning the lights off shortly after they’d started sleeping together.
‘Come on Jimmy, you can’t leave little Greg waiting like this’ He said trying to get Wilson's attention back to his dick.
House couldn't reach the light switch without getting out of bed which wasn’t easy with his naked boyfriend straddling his left leg (always the left, even during sex Wilson was careful not to hurt him). It had taken some trial and error during the first few months of their relationship to work out the best positions for House, he couldn't kneel or have any pressure put on his damaged quad (screaming in pain and writhing on the bed in agony after Wilson accidentally knelt on his thigh once was not sexy). House having had sex with men and women was more able to express what he liked but they’d had fun finding new things together.
‘Don’t you want to see me?’ Wilson asked a hint of self-consciousness in his voice.
House cringed, Wilson generally wasn’t self-conscious about his body but he could be insecure at times.
‘It’s not you’ House murmured biting Wilson's earlobe to get him back in the mood,
‘What is it then?’ Wilson asked pulling away
House missed the contact instantly. ‘It’s me, my leg’ House said barely audibly, ‘I don’t want you to look at it.’
Wilson sat down carefully on the edge of the bed next to his partner reaching out to touch House's face ‘Greg, I love you, I love your body, it’s just a scar’
House shook his head ‘They mutilated me, left a giant hole in my leg, even the scar didn’t heal properly because of the muscle they cut out’
Wilson reached out again before withdrawing as he felt House tighten up again
‘Let's go to bed' He sighed grabbing his pyjamas neither of them was in the mood for sex now he settled down in bed next to House.
‘Dr. House’ The nurse said brightly, ‘I’m just going to change the dressings on your leg and check your incisions.’
Dressing changes were horrendous, House would always be in agony whenever anyone touched his leg, and he’d tense up whenever anyone came near it in anticipation of the pain. After the first dressing change, he’d refused to let anyone near his leg for several days until it had become infected, even if he couldn't walk he still terrified most of the nursing staff.
House hoped the raging infection would kill him, sepsis would be welcome at this point but all it brought was agony, his leg burned as if it were being bitten by red ants, and the fire spread through his thigh until he was screaming in pain and finally allowed Cuddy to administer antibiotics after she threatened to get a psych consult.
The infection was now under control, unlike the pain. Every movement hurt, House couldn’t even turn over in bed without crying out, and having the bandages changed was torture. The first nurse lifted his leg, and House grabbed a fistful of the sheets, as the second nurse began to unroll the bandage, House gasped for air, there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room, they peeled back the dressings, House screamed, tears filled his eyes he was in too much pain to hold them in, they began to clean the wounds if House had eaten anything he’d have brought it up again.
‘Not long now Dr. House’ The annoyingly chirpy nurse assured him, the muscles began to cramp as the nurse placed his leg back down on the pillow and gathered the hazardous waste and supplies. House lay in bed sobbing as the nurse left.
He couldn’t bear to look at his leg, he’d look away when they changed the dressings, it was hideous, the long incision held together by rows of stainless steel staples with a thin rubber tube snaking out draining exudate, the incision was sunken where the muscle had been removed leaving a large indent in his thigh. It looked like something out of a cheap horror movie. House felt sick whenever he saw it.
House snapped awake, worried brown eyes looking down at his as he grabbed a handful of the sheets, panting and sweating heavily.
‘Greg’ Wilson said softly.
House gripped Wilson’s T-shirt before being pulled into his partner's chest.
‘It’s OK, I’ve got you, you’re OK’ Wilson assured him, his leg was throbbing but he needed contact with Wilson right now after the memories from the infarction had disturbed his dream.