Thirty Days of Solitary 18/30
Jul. 13th, 2012 08:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
menolly_auTitle: Thirty Days of Solitary 18/30
Characters: House with small bits of various others
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: For everything up to and including Twenty Vicodins
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 18 Monday 24th October 2011
He's startled by a bang on the door and the command to get his coveralls on and come to the cuff port. He stares at the door in confusion for a moment, this isn't the usual procedure, are they taking him out of here? He dares to hope and after another impatient shouted command he gets himself into the orange coverall and goes over to the cuff port, turns around and puts his hands back through it. He feels the usual bite of the metal on his wrists and then goes and stands towards the back of his cell as ordered while they open the door. They come in and chain his ankles like normal.
They're not in full riot gear so he figures it's not a cell extraction but he's still not sure what this is. His stodgy breakfast sits uneasily on his stomach as they escort him out of the cell. He's taken down the corridor to an elevator, where he's told to turn and face the wall. He does that, standing with his nose pressed against the corner like a naughty child while the guards keep a hold on his arms. Once, he thinks, he would have asked a lot of questions, demanded answers, now it seems more natural to hold his tongue and keep quiet.
They go out a door and he finds himself being put in the back of a van. He's the first one in the van, bet he’s soon joined by three other prisoners. They're wearing the usual prison garb of jeans and denim shirt, he's the only solitary inmate there, and he’s marked out by his bright orange coverall.
The drive is short, and the windows in the back of a the van are blacked out, and there’s a solid partition to the front so he can’t see anything but at least it’s a trip away from solitary. He suspects he knows what this is all about and when he gets out of the van and sees that they are at the back entrance of a courthouse his suspicions are confirmed. He's going to court so that they can add more months to his sentence. Great.
They're taken out of the van and herded down to some cells in the basement. His ankles are still chained together and walking is difficult, he hopes that some officer with more brains than the others will realise he's a cripple and take the chain off but instead they just walk slowly. The handcuffs and ankle chains are removed only once he's put into a cell.
He's in a cell by himself again, though he notes that the three men who'd come with him are in a cell together, he guesses that's because he's considered dangerous to other prisoners now. He almost smiles at the thought.
At least this cell is the old fashioned type, with bars. The walls on each side are solid but he can see out of his cage and into the one across the way, and a little down the corridor. He doesn't know the other prisoners, and when they see him staring at them they react with angry gestures so he looks away. He's still not sure where he'll stand in the jail when, or if, he gets out of solitary. He might have to ask to go into protective custody after all this. That would mean he'd end up being in what amounted to solitary for the rest of his prison stay, although he'd have slightly more 'privileges' than he does now.
It isn't long before they come for him, chain him up again, and take him up a set of stairs straight into the dock in a courtroom. The stairs are a struggle with both his hands and ankles chained and he can tell the guards are getting impatient with his slow progress. Well, too bad for them.
He enters the dock still wearing the orange jumpsuit, so there'll be no doubt amongst the spectators in the court where he's come from. He's given a chair and he sits down thankfully, hands still cuffed together and legs chained. A prison guard stands behind him in case he tries to make a run for it.
The charges are read and he stands to make his sole contribution to the proceedings, pleading 'guilty' to all charges as arranged. He sees a small smile on the face of his 'lawyer' seated at a table a little distance from him. No doubt he’s pleased that his client hasn't created trouble. The judge imposes an additional eight months sentence and he's quickly taken back to the cells.
He feels numb as he leans back against the cold wall of his cell. Another eight months, it's not like it's news to him, but it's still a blow.
"You're that gimp doctor aren't you?"
He looks up and sees that the cell opposite now only has two occupants and one of them is talking to him, leaning up against the bars, arms hanging out.
He rubs his bad leg, as always it's letting him know how much it objects to being unsupported while he walks around. He doesn't answer the other prisoner.
"Yeah, I heard about you. You cut a hole in some guy's throat, used a pen to get him to breathe. Then your roomie beat up that Nazi, Mendelson, put him in the hospital real good. They say he’s a goner. How long you in the hole for?"
It's strange, to hear someone talking to him again, and he feels off balance, unsure of himself. He stares at the guy for a moment.
“Don’t know, they haven’t told me.”
“Bastards. You should complain, you got rights man.”
Their conversation, such as it is, is interrupted by the guards returning to escort the guy up the stairs to whatever awaits him and House settles back in his cell, back against a wall, to wait.
Once all the prisoners have made the climb up the stairs and come back they're taken back to the van and they make the trip back to the prison. House is tired and in pain, and feeling numb about the additional eight months he’s just received. Nearly another year of prison when he could have been out eighteen days ago. He could be in some bar somewhere right now, kicking back and watching the game and having a drink or five.
When they arrive back and are unloaded from the van he hopes for one moment that they will take him with the other guys, back to the general population section of the prison, Maybe they were just keeping him in solitary until the ‘trial’. His hopes are dashed when he’s separated from the others and taken down the familiar corridor.
To his dismay they conduct another strip search, shredding any dignity he had left after this day, and then chain him up again and take him back to his cell.
As he takes the last few steps towards his cell he stumbles, his bad leg collapsing underneath him. Agony shoots through him and he gasps. He notices the guards escorting him are immediately on high alert, their hands tightening on his arms. He struggles back to his feet, with the officers practically pulling him up, his breath comes in panting gasps.
He wants to rage at them, to tell them that he's no threat, and of course he has trouble walking, he's a fucking cripple after all but the words catch in his throat. Instead he allows them to support him to his cell door and then goes placidly inside on command, just as he has every time before. Once he's uncuffed he staggers to the bed and sinks down onto it, grabbing his thigh which is sending pain shooting through his body.
Eight months, another eight months, he keeps repeating to himself. He still has three left of his original sentence, so that's another eleven months in prison. Another eleven months of totally inadequate pain management, of lousy food and grinding boredom, another eleven months of the world outside continuing on without him.
He sees his diagnostic textbook notes lying beside the bed. He picks up the notepad, reads what is written there and then suddenly tears the page off the pad. Scrunching it into a ball he bounces it off the nearest wall. The other pages quickly follow until his bed is surrounded by little balls of paper.
It's a typical courtroom, grim and bland, a place without hope. Foreman sits in the back and waits for House to appear. There's a succession of prisoners, led up from the cells below straight into the dock. Both the judge and the lawyers appear bored, and the prisoners don't seem to care too much either. They stare around the courtroom, as if taking in any environment that's different from the tedium of their jail
.
When House is brought up Foreman tenses. He has no great love for House, although he did come to have a grudging respect before House destroyed that last year, but seeing him in leg chains and handcuffs and a bright orange jumpsuit hurts. Foreman scrunches down in his seat and hides behind the man in front of him. He doesn't want House to see him; he wants to grant House at least a little dignity, although House has never been shy about poking his nose into Foreman's business.
House's 'case' barely takes five minutes, obviously all pre-arranged. House pleads guilty on cue, and then sits back down, his face creased and worn. He doesn't look good, his hair is much longer than normal, and his stubble is ragged, Foreman thinks his hair has greyed just in the last year. He looks pale and old.
Once House is taken back down the stairs, to be locked up again, Foreman quickly leaves the courtroom. He wonders if he should arrange to visit House in prison once he gets out of solitary, tell him that he’s planning to try and get him out of there. He quickly discards the thought, he needs to try and appear as impersonal as possible about this; he doesn't want the Board to think that he's doing this out of some sense of friendship with House. And if he can't do this then he doesn't want to give House false hope. No, he doesn't need to discuss this with House, even House wouldn’t be so much of an ass as to refuse to cooperate if it meant getting out of jail early.
Characters: House with small bits of various others
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: For everything up to and including Twenty Vicodins
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 18 Monday 24th October 2011
He's startled by a bang on the door and the command to get his coveralls on and come to the cuff port. He stares at the door in confusion for a moment, this isn't the usual procedure, are they taking him out of here? He dares to hope and after another impatient shouted command he gets himself into the orange coverall and goes over to the cuff port, turns around and puts his hands back through it. He feels the usual bite of the metal on his wrists and then goes and stands towards the back of his cell as ordered while they open the door. They come in and chain his ankles like normal.
They're not in full riot gear so he figures it's not a cell extraction but he's still not sure what this is. His stodgy breakfast sits uneasily on his stomach as they escort him out of the cell. He's taken down the corridor to an elevator, where he's told to turn and face the wall. He does that, standing with his nose pressed against the corner like a naughty child while the guards keep a hold on his arms. Once, he thinks, he would have asked a lot of questions, demanded answers, now it seems more natural to hold his tongue and keep quiet.
They go out a door and he finds himself being put in the back of a van. He's the first one in the van, bet he’s soon joined by three other prisoners. They're wearing the usual prison garb of jeans and denim shirt, he's the only solitary inmate there, and he’s marked out by his bright orange coverall.
The drive is short, and the windows in the back of a the van are blacked out, and there’s a solid partition to the front so he can’t see anything but at least it’s a trip away from solitary. He suspects he knows what this is all about and when he gets out of the van and sees that they are at the back entrance of a courthouse his suspicions are confirmed. He's going to court so that they can add more months to his sentence. Great.
They're taken out of the van and herded down to some cells in the basement. His ankles are still chained together and walking is difficult, he hopes that some officer with more brains than the others will realise he's a cripple and take the chain off but instead they just walk slowly. The handcuffs and ankle chains are removed only once he's put into a cell.
He's in a cell by himself again, though he notes that the three men who'd come with him are in a cell together, he guesses that's because he's considered dangerous to other prisoners now. He almost smiles at the thought.
At least this cell is the old fashioned type, with bars. The walls on each side are solid but he can see out of his cage and into the one across the way, and a little down the corridor. He doesn't know the other prisoners, and when they see him staring at them they react with angry gestures so he looks away. He's still not sure where he'll stand in the jail when, or if, he gets out of solitary. He might have to ask to go into protective custody after all this. That would mean he'd end up being in what amounted to solitary for the rest of his prison stay, although he'd have slightly more 'privileges' than he does now.
It isn't long before they come for him, chain him up again, and take him up a set of stairs straight into the dock in a courtroom. The stairs are a struggle with both his hands and ankles chained and he can tell the guards are getting impatient with his slow progress. Well, too bad for them.
He enters the dock still wearing the orange jumpsuit, so there'll be no doubt amongst the spectators in the court where he's come from. He's given a chair and he sits down thankfully, hands still cuffed together and legs chained. A prison guard stands behind him in case he tries to make a run for it.
The charges are read and he stands to make his sole contribution to the proceedings, pleading 'guilty' to all charges as arranged. He sees a small smile on the face of his 'lawyer' seated at a table a little distance from him. No doubt he’s pleased that his client hasn't created trouble. The judge imposes an additional eight months sentence and he's quickly taken back to the cells.
He feels numb as he leans back against the cold wall of his cell. Another eight months, it's not like it's news to him, but it's still a blow.
"You're that gimp doctor aren't you?"
He looks up and sees that the cell opposite now only has two occupants and one of them is talking to him, leaning up against the bars, arms hanging out.
He rubs his bad leg, as always it's letting him know how much it objects to being unsupported while he walks around. He doesn't answer the other prisoner.
"Yeah, I heard about you. You cut a hole in some guy's throat, used a pen to get him to breathe. Then your roomie beat up that Nazi, Mendelson, put him in the hospital real good. They say he’s a goner. How long you in the hole for?"
It's strange, to hear someone talking to him again, and he feels off balance, unsure of himself. He stares at the guy for a moment.
“Don’t know, they haven’t told me.”
“Bastards. You should complain, you got rights man.”
Their conversation, such as it is, is interrupted by the guards returning to escort the guy up the stairs to whatever awaits him and House settles back in his cell, back against a wall, to wait.
Once all the prisoners have made the climb up the stairs and come back they're taken back to the van and they make the trip back to the prison. House is tired and in pain, and feeling numb about the additional eight months he’s just received. Nearly another year of prison when he could have been out eighteen days ago. He could be in some bar somewhere right now, kicking back and watching the game and having a drink or five.
When they arrive back and are unloaded from the van he hopes for one moment that they will take him with the other guys, back to the general population section of the prison, Maybe they were just keeping him in solitary until the ‘trial’. His hopes are dashed when he’s separated from the others and taken down the familiar corridor.
To his dismay they conduct another strip search, shredding any dignity he had left after this day, and then chain him up again and take him back to his cell.
As he takes the last few steps towards his cell he stumbles, his bad leg collapsing underneath him. Agony shoots through him and he gasps. He notices the guards escorting him are immediately on high alert, their hands tightening on his arms. He struggles back to his feet, with the officers practically pulling him up, his breath comes in panting gasps.
He wants to rage at them, to tell them that he's no threat, and of course he has trouble walking, he's a fucking cripple after all but the words catch in his throat. Instead he allows them to support him to his cell door and then goes placidly inside on command, just as he has every time before. Once he's uncuffed he staggers to the bed and sinks down onto it, grabbing his thigh which is sending pain shooting through his body.
Eight months, another eight months, he keeps repeating to himself. He still has three left of his original sentence, so that's another eleven months in prison. Another eleven months of totally inadequate pain management, of lousy food and grinding boredom, another eleven months of the world outside continuing on without him.
He sees his diagnostic textbook notes lying beside the bed. He picks up the notepad, reads what is written there and then suddenly tears the page off the pad. Scrunching it into a ball he bounces it off the nearest wall. The other pages quickly follow until his bed is surrounded by little balls of paper.
It's a typical courtroom, grim and bland, a place without hope. Foreman sits in the back and waits for House to appear. There's a succession of prisoners, led up from the cells below straight into the dock. Both the judge and the lawyers appear bored, and the prisoners don't seem to care too much either. They stare around the courtroom, as if taking in any environment that's different from the tedium of their jail
.
When House is brought up Foreman tenses. He has no great love for House, although he did come to have a grudging respect before House destroyed that last year, but seeing him in leg chains and handcuffs and a bright orange jumpsuit hurts. Foreman scrunches down in his seat and hides behind the man in front of him. He doesn't want House to see him; he wants to grant House at least a little dignity, although House has never been shy about poking his nose into Foreman's business.
House's 'case' barely takes five minutes, obviously all pre-arranged. House pleads guilty on cue, and then sits back down, his face creased and worn. He doesn't look good, his hair is much longer than normal, and his stubble is ragged, Foreman thinks his hair has greyed just in the last year. He looks pale and old.
Once House is taken back down the stairs, to be locked up again, Foreman quickly leaves the courtroom. He wonders if he should arrange to visit House in prison once he gets out of solitary, tell him that he’s planning to try and get him out of there. He quickly discards the thought, he needs to try and appear as impersonal as possible about this; he doesn't want the Board to think that he's doing this out of some sense of friendship with House. And if he can't do this then he doesn't want to give House false hope. No, he doesn't need to discuss this with House, even House wouldn’t be so much of an ass as to refuse to cooperate if it meant getting out of jail early.
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no subject
Date: 2012-07-13 03:36 pm (UTC)So typical House - always doing something to derail what would be best for himself.
For some reason I am loathing your Foreman. I never was crazy about him but his level of dispassion in contrast to House's inner turmoil (even if he did this all to himself) is driving me crazy. Not mind you that I dislike your writing of him, it just reminds me why I never cared much for the character.
no subject
Date: 2012-07-13 09:14 pm (UTC)That's true, although in this case at least he had a good reason (although it could be argued whether his motivation was 'save Nick's life' or 'solve the puzzle')
That's interesting you say that about Foreman, I didn't think he came off *too* badly in this story, although primarily motivated by self interest. I never used to care much for Foreman (trying to infect Cameron with a deadly disease being the low light), disliked him intensely during the 'resignation' arc, then softened towards him at the end of Help Me, and in the following seasons he seemed a bit more tolerant of House. (I think mostly any like I have for him is because of queenzulu's awesome House/Foreman stories:)
no subject
Date: 2012-07-14 05:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-14 08:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-14 11:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-14 11:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-23 05:33 pm (UTC)I had two questions, because this series is so deeply detailed:
1) What was it like to actually see two other prisoners? What did he take in?
2) What was it like in and out of the van? Was there? Grey corridors?
It seems to me that someone as highly sensory as House would be hit hard by these things.
no subject
Date: 2012-07-23 09:07 pm (UTC)