Title: Witching Hour
Characters: House, Wilson
Word Count: 650
Summary: In the middle of the night, anything can happen. The previous vignettes, in order, are: Visiting Hour, Happy Hour, Midnight Hour, Fifty-Minute Hour, Random Hour, Painful Hour, Dark Hour , and Desperate Hour.
House fumbles through the darkened living room, shouting, “I’m coming; I’m coming! Shut up already!” On his way through, he glances at the clock—. Means it must be one of his team with an earth-shaking discovery, something that better be worth waking him for.
Earlier in the evening, some sort of freak allergic reaction—House suspects maybe the cinnamon chicken in the hospital cafeteria—had prompted him to take 150 mg of diphenhydramine and head for bed. Who ruins perfectly good chicken with cinnamon anyway?
Finally he reaches the door and yanks it open impatiently.
House shakes his head to clear the fog. “What… are you doing here?” he asks slowly.
“Not gonna invite me in?”
House thinks maybe he’d better sit down, too. He joins
“Needed a break,”
“Why did you… what were you… how did you….”
House sighs. “Just answer the questions; I’m certain you can translate them.”
“You worry too much, House. When someone’s imprisoned for something they didn’t do, they can come and go as they please. Even got my own key—see?”
House rubs hard at his right thigh; damn, it’s hurting bad.
House studies the scrip for Vicodin that
“Sure I can. Can’t practice as a physician, but they can’t really take the title away, can they? Earned that by going to med school. May be worthless now, but it’s mine to keep. ‘Course, the pharmacy’ll probably notice the lack of a DEA registration number. Hmmm….”
House nods slowly. Finally, he settles back on the couch to watch the movie, drink his beer, spend time with
When House awakens in the morning, he smiles before he even opens his eyes. The hallucinations that 150 mg of diphenhydramine can cause are an undesirable side effect—that’s what the pharmaceutical companies call it, anyway. Not House; House calls it an evening with his friend—and that’s very desirable, indeed.
It’s only later in the day, after he’s snapped even more viciously than normal at anyone stupid enough to stumble into his sphere, that it hits him—last night’s hallucination had been trying to tell him… something.
And—for the first time since
Next: Lonely Hour