Fic : Thirty Days of Solitary 6/30
Jul. 2nd, 2012 07:39 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
menolly_auTitle: Thirty Days of Solitary 6/30
Characters: House with small bits of Wilson, Foreman, Adams, Chase, Cuddy, Park and Taub
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: For everything up to and including Twenty Vicodins
Words: 1402
Summary: House was sentenced to thirty days of solitary confinement for his actions in Twenty Vicodins. This is the story of his time in solitary, and what was happening back at PPTH while he was there. Story will mainly focus on House, but there are segments featuring the rest of the cast. Starts just before the end of Twenty Vicodins.
A/N : Many, many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
damigella_314. Without her constant help and encouragement this story would be called 'Five Days of Solitary'.
Click for previous part
Day 6 Wednesday 12th October 2011
He’s taken to the showers again today, the usual laborious procedure of being chained up so he can barely move and hustled along the grim corridors of solitary to the even grimmer shower block. He finds that he doesn’t mind the cuffs and chain so much when he knows he’ll be getting a chance to clean up properly for the first time in three days. Cleaning himself in the tiny sink in his cell isn’t a substitute for a shower, even if it is with lukewarm water and a scant five minutes. When he’s finished he gets dressed in his clean short and t-shirt and then is handed a razor and told he’s got ten minutes to shave.
They watch of course, but he scarcely even notices. His beard has been getting out of hand during his stay in solitary and it’s a relief to shave. Of course there’s no way to leave his customary stubble without an electric shaver so he’s left clean shaven. He examines himself in the mirror and has to admit it’s an improvement on the wild man look he’d been sporting. His hair is getting a little overgrown and he turns to one of the waiting officers.
“Do I get a haircut now?”
The officer, Collins according to his name badge, looks at him humourlessly. One thing House has learnt quickly is that the officers in solitary are different to the ones he’s used to. There’s no banter between inmates and guards, no idle chatter. They’ve obviously been instructed to have a minimum of interaction with the prisoners, whether as part of the punishment or as some sort of safety precaution House isn’t sure.
“No haircut.” Collins says and that’s that.
Cuffs and leg chains go back on and he’s taken back to his hole in the wall. Someone has been in there while he’s been gone he notices straight away, the few possessions he has are tossed around, the mattress and bedding are off the concrete slab that serves as a bed. Searches are routine in prison and he has nothing to hide, not yet anyway, but he’s annoyed at the invasion nonetheless.
He tidies up his cell and picks up one of his old paperback novels. The time drags heavily in here, even more so than in the main jail. There at least he had his janitorial job, as boring as it was, and people to distract him. It could be terrifying in gen pop, but he’d take that any time over the blandness of the days in solitary. This is his second time reading this book since he’s been given it and he gets half way through and then tosses it aside. He already knows ‘whodunit’, and it hadn’t been that interesting the first time through.
He could do some physical therapy, he thinks. Nolan had encouraged him to look into it, and had even arranged for a therapist to visit Mayfield while he was there and show him some exercises, the end result of which was supposed to be to strengthen the leg and maybe lessen the pain. He'd tried for a while but the effort it took, and the pain while he was doing it, seemed to outweigh any benefit and after a while he'd stopped. Like all his efforts to change his life it had been doomed to failure from the start.
Sometimes he wonders how his life would have gone if Cuddy hadn't come to his apartment the night of the crane collapse. Cuddy’s life would have probably been better; she'd be married to Lucas, maybe trying hopelessly to have another brat. They would never have gotten together without that night. He would have taken the Vicodin if she hadn't come, he knows that. He had it in his hand; it had only been a matter of time. Maybe he would have stopped at a couple, gotten up, had a drink or three and gone to bed. Sometimes he thinks he wouldn't have stopped before the whole bottle was gone. Other times he wonders what might have happened if he'd let Foreman stop him from leaving the hospital, or if Wilson had come instead of Cuddy.
He rubs his thigh as he forces his mind away from those thoughts, it's stupid, moronic, to spend time speculating about all that. Hannah died, he did what he did, she did what she did, nothing was going to change that. Nothing was going to make it come out okay.
He raises his right leg off the bed a couple of times in a half-hearted attempt at doing the leg exercises, the thing immediately starts screaming like a son-of-a-bitch and he remembers there's no therapist here to step in if the leg starts spasming, or to give him medicine for break-through pain. If he aggravates his leg to the point where the pain becomes excruciating there's not a damn thing anyone will do for him before his next lot of meds, this evening. He carefully eases the leg back down to the bed surface and closes his eyes. He can't risk it, the last thing he needs is to be in intolerable pain for the next few hours. He might as well give it up and get some sleep, it's not like he has anything else to do, and there’s hours yet to dinner.
He dreams of a dark space, with a ceiling that's far too close, and of sawing a leg off with a rusty hacksaw. Just as he finishes and holds the leg up in triumph the ceiling collapses, burying him.
He wakes up, sweating, heart pounding, and shaking, and stares at the walls that are far too close. He decides that's enough sleep for the moment and snatches up the book. Maybe it will be better the second time through.
Remy Hadley looks at the prison as she gets out of her car. It has taken a while for her to decide to come. After her own stint in prison, she never wanted to go near one again. The trouble is that she also knows how lonely it can be, she'd had no visitors, no-one knew she was there, and it was as if the world had moved on without her, and she'd been stuck in place. When she walked out the prison and saw House waiting for her she'd wanted to run to him and hug him. She'd held back, coolly taken the drink he'd offered her but she's never forgotten that he'd been there, even if was to satisfy his own curiosity.
She's been busy with her own life since he blew all his bridges behind him. She’s moved on, found a new love, one that is going to last this time. In a couple of months they are heading for Greece, for either an extended holiday or a better place for her to die. She has no wish to ever be a doctor again, or to practise medicine, she is done with the puzzles, with the crazy guy who'd been her boss, and almost a friend.
She's come to say goodbye, she will be gone by the time he gets out, unless he wrangles parole, which seems unlikely given he is House. She doesn't want to be someone who just disappears from his life. So she gathers her courage and goes to the desk, and asks to see him. She's on his list of approved visitors, as she found out earlier when she rang before coming. She’d been a little surprised by that, but maybe House is as lonely as all the other prison inmates. The officer takes her name and punches a couple of buttons and frowns. House is on restrictions, no visitors allowed.
She supposes she shouldn't be surprised that House is in trouble in prison, it would be more surprising if he wasn't. The officer tells her it will be at least a month before he can have visitors, possibly longer. She wants to complain that she should have been told this earlier when she phoned to save her a wasted trip but she holds her tongue, her own stint in prison isn’t so far in the past that she feels comfortable making a scene here, at the front gate. She walks back to her car.
She looks back at the prison, silently wishes him well and drives off.
Characters: House with small bits of Wilson, Foreman, Adams, Chase, Cuddy, Park and Taub
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: For everything up to and including Twenty Vicodins
Words: 1402
Summary: House was sentenced to thirty days of solitary confinement for his actions in Twenty Vicodins. This is the story of his time in solitary, and what was happening back at PPTH while he was there. Story will mainly focus on House, but there are segments featuring the rest of the cast. Starts just before the end of Twenty Vicodins.
A/N : Many, many thanks to
damigella_314. Without her constant help and encouragement this story would be called 'Five Days of Solitary'. Click for previous part
Day 6 Wednesday 12th October 2011
He’s taken to the showers again today, the usual laborious procedure of being chained up so he can barely move and hustled along the grim corridors of solitary to the even grimmer shower block. He finds that he doesn’t mind the cuffs and chain so much when he knows he’ll be getting a chance to clean up properly for the first time in three days. Cleaning himself in the tiny sink in his cell isn’t a substitute for a shower, even if it is with lukewarm water and a scant five minutes. When he’s finished he gets dressed in his clean short and t-shirt and then is handed a razor and told he’s got ten minutes to shave.
They watch of course, but he scarcely even notices. His beard has been getting out of hand during his stay in solitary and it’s a relief to shave. Of course there’s no way to leave his customary stubble without an electric shaver so he’s left clean shaven. He examines himself in the mirror and has to admit it’s an improvement on the wild man look he’d been sporting. His hair is getting a little overgrown and he turns to one of the waiting officers.
“Do I get a haircut now?”
The officer, Collins according to his name badge, looks at him humourlessly. One thing House has learnt quickly is that the officers in solitary are different to the ones he’s used to. There’s no banter between inmates and guards, no idle chatter. They’ve obviously been instructed to have a minimum of interaction with the prisoners, whether as part of the punishment or as some sort of safety precaution House isn’t sure.
“No haircut.” Collins says and that’s that.
Cuffs and leg chains go back on and he’s taken back to his hole in the wall. Someone has been in there while he’s been gone he notices straight away, the few possessions he has are tossed around, the mattress and bedding are off the concrete slab that serves as a bed. Searches are routine in prison and he has nothing to hide, not yet anyway, but he’s annoyed at the invasion nonetheless.
He tidies up his cell and picks up one of his old paperback novels. The time drags heavily in here, even more so than in the main jail. There at least he had his janitorial job, as boring as it was, and people to distract him. It could be terrifying in gen pop, but he’d take that any time over the blandness of the days in solitary. This is his second time reading this book since he’s been given it and he gets half way through and then tosses it aside. He already knows ‘whodunit’, and it hadn’t been that interesting the first time through.
He could do some physical therapy, he thinks. Nolan had encouraged him to look into it, and had even arranged for a therapist to visit Mayfield while he was there and show him some exercises, the end result of which was supposed to be to strengthen the leg and maybe lessen the pain. He'd tried for a while but the effort it took, and the pain while he was doing it, seemed to outweigh any benefit and after a while he'd stopped. Like all his efforts to change his life it had been doomed to failure from the start.
Sometimes he wonders how his life would have gone if Cuddy hadn't come to his apartment the night of the crane collapse. Cuddy’s life would have probably been better; she'd be married to Lucas, maybe trying hopelessly to have another brat. They would never have gotten together without that night. He would have taken the Vicodin if she hadn't come, he knows that. He had it in his hand; it had only been a matter of time. Maybe he would have stopped at a couple, gotten up, had a drink or three and gone to bed. Sometimes he thinks he wouldn't have stopped before the whole bottle was gone. Other times he wonders what might have happened if he'd let Foreman stop him from leaving the hospital, or if Wilson had come instead of Cuddy.
He rubs his thigh as he forces his mind away from those thoughts, it's stupid, moronic, to spend time speculating about all that. Hannah died, he did what he did, she did what she did, nothing was going to change that. Nothing was going to make it come out okay.
He raises his right leg off the bed a couple of times in a half-hearted attempt at doing the leg exercises, the thing immediately starts screaming like a son-of-a-bitch and he remembers there's no therapist here to step in if the leg starts spasming, or to give him medicine for break-through pain. If he aggravates his leg to the point where the pain becomes excruciating there's not a damn thing anyone will do for him before his next lot of meds, this evening. He carefully eases the leg back down to the bed surface and closes his eyes. He can't risk it, the last thing he needs is to be in intolerable pain for the next few hours. He might as well give it up and get some sleep, it's not like he has anything else to do, and there’s hours yet to dinner.
He dreams of a dark space, with a ceiling that's far too close, and of sawing a leg off with a rusty hacksaw. Just as he finishes and holds the leg up in triumph the ceiling collapses, burying him.
He wakes up, sweating, heart pounding, and shaking, and stares at the walls that are far too close. He decides that's enough sleep for the moment and snatches up the book. Maybe it will be better the second time through.
Remy Hadley looks at the prison as she gets out of her car. It has taken a while for her to decide to come. After her own stint in prison, she never wanted to go near one again. The trouble is that she also knows how lonely it can be, she'd had no visitors, no-one knew she was there, and it was as if the world had moved on without her, and she'd been stuck in place. When she walked out the prison and saw House waiting for her she'd wanted to run to him and hug him. She'd held back, coolly taken the drink he'd offered her but she's never forgotten that he'd been there, even if was to satisfy his own curiosity.
She's been busy with her own life since he blew all his bridges behind him. She’s moved on, found a new love, one that is going to last this time. In a couple of months they are heading for Greece, for either an extended holiday or a better place for her to die. She has no wish to ever be a doctor again, or to practise medicine, she is done with the puzzles, with the crazy guy who'd been her boss, and almost a friend.
She's come to say goodbye, she will be gone by the time he gets out, unless he wrangles parole, which seems unlikely given he is House. She doesn't want to be someone who just disappears from his life. So she gathers her courage and goes to the desk, and asks to see him. She's on his list of approved visitors, as she found out earlier when she rang before coming. She’d been a little surprised by that, but maybe House is as lonely as all the other prison inmates. The officer takes her name and punches a couple of buttons and frowns. House is on restrictions, no visitors allowed.
She supposes she shouldn't be surprised that House is in trouble in prison, it would be more surprising if he wasn't. The officer tells her it will be at least a month before he can have visitors, possibly longer. She wants to complain that she should have been told this earlier when she phoned to save her a wasted trip but she holds her tongue, her own stint in prison isn’t so far in the past that she feels comfortable making a scene here, at the front gate. She walks back to her car.
She looks back at the prison, silently wishes him well and drives off.
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no subject
Date: 2012-07-02 12:30 am (UTC)And Hadley showing up to visit him...very poignant. Well done!
no subject
Date: 2012-07-02 04:19 am (UTC)Thanks for reading - glad you're still enjoying it :)
no subject
Date: 2012-07-02 02:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-02 04:21 am (UTC)Thanks for reading :)