He stared down at a trail of blood leading into one of the stations. He had a terrible dropping in his gut that he knew who's blood it was...
"House?" his low voice wandered into the relevant quiet of the room.
"Unless someone is dying-not dead, but dying-I am so not interested." When no reply came from the dark-haired Oncologist, the cranky doctor turned to find his co-worker shaking, blood spattered on his starch white coat. House immediately grabbed his cane and stood. Wilson gave a curt nod and spun away, knowing House would follow. "Look, go home and watch some Lifetime. And stop coming in to flirt with me," he said to the hypochondriac and left.
He caught up with Wilson half-way down the hall and stopped the doctor. The younger of the two turned. "It's Cuddy...she was in an accident." House's eyes flicked to the ER, and back to Wilson. "She's bleeding. She hit a tree and a limb came through the windshield and..." the words hitched in the younger man's throat.
"Impaled her," House finished. Wilson nodded, paling. House wasn't as affected by the thought of Cuddy in immediate pain. He knew she was a tough gal and that they were already shoving Morphine down her throat. He was thinking clearly-more so than his companion, who got flustered enough with women as it was. "Go grab Chase and Cameron-they're arguing somewhere." Without waiting for acknowledgement, House limped off, the dull thud-step-thud-step of his trademark gait echoing in the seemingly empty corridor.
When he reached the ER, he winced. The place was flooded with people that didn't need to be there-newbies and doctors trained inadequately for the situation. He almost growled out-loud. "Move!" he barked, entering the room. He threatened people with his cane as he moved about, trying to get to the busiest station. He suddenly came to a halt, doctors behind him muttering curses at him under their breath. He stared down at a trail of blood leading into one of the stations.
He had a terrible dropping in his gut that he knew who's blood it was...