In which they take a trip down PPTH way. (Part 2)
[Follows THIS. Sam = imnot_likeyou, Dean = hasperkynipples, House = cantstopourlove. Hadley is an NPC.]
Kutner got paged to the ER, and he wasn't sure why, or if he was going to like what he found there. As soon as he got down there, though, he found Sam shoving himself between Cameron and the kid they had brought in earlier. The kid wasn't looking good in the slightest, and now he was more concerned and kicking himself for not looking him over more when he had the chance.
Dean looked over at Kutner and sighed in relief. "Thank God. Took you long enough."
Kutner shook his head before responding. "What happened?"
Alec hadn't fought this time, because he couldn't. He couldn't have gotten out of his own way right not if someone had paid him. He hadn't fought because they had said they wouldn't leave him. But that didn't calm the panic. Especially not when they had him up on a gurney with to many medical people all getting to close. He had one hand wrapped white knuckled around the railing, and the tight grip was only partially because of the muscle spasms. He was huddled up as close to the wall as he could get.
"He had another seizure. He's been taking the meds, but he just started seizing all over again," Sam explained, as Kutner started to make his way closer. He glanced around at all the other people surrounding them, and knew he was freaking Alec out a bit too much. He moved over grabbing a wheelchair from the side, before rolling it up close to the bed.
"C'mon -- let's go somewhere a little less crowded."
He looked back and forth between Kutner, who was merely the lesser of two evils, and Sam and Dean. It was pretty clear that they'd stick with him. "Don't touch me." He wanted it clear that he was in no way agreeing to let anyone get that close. After a long minute he peeled his hand away from the railing and moved to the chair though he huddled there to. Knees up, feet on the seat. The railing had bent under his hand.
Kutner bailed him out of there as fast as he could, doing his best not to touch him. Dean and Sam followed quickly, sliding into the nearest elevator behind him as Kutner hit the button for House's floor. As soon as the doors closed and they were moving, he let go of the handles of the wheelchair and leaned back against the wall looking at the other two men. "So the meds didn't work?"
"Sorry." He was miserable. He hurt, he was fall down tired, the shakes were pretty much a constant. And the smell of this place and the people in it terrified him.
Kutner sighed slightly, pressing a fist to his lips as he thought. "Which means epilepsy isn't the source of the seizures." He paused for a moment, before looking at the numbers as they blinked through. "We may have to talk to my boss."
Alec merely tried to make himself smaller. But there was only so small someone six feet tall could be. No matter how thin.
Kutner glanced over at him before giving him a small smile. "If it makes you feel any better? He doesn't like conversing face to face with patients. So you'll probably never even meet him."
"Maybe?" Honestly he had no idea what to even begin to say to this man. No doctor had ever tried to talk to him before.
Kutner nodded for a minute, before the elevator doors opened to a quiet, empty hallway. He gripped the handles of the chair again, starting to roll Alec forward. "I can put you in one of the generic hospital rooms, or we could sit in talk in one of the conference rooms. Wherever you're more comfortable."
"Conference room?"
"Conference room it is," Kutner nodded, before heading down the hallway towards House's office, silently hoping that he wasn't there. When they arrived, he pulled the glass door open, ushering them all inside, before moving to close the blinds.
Alec's eyes closed and he inhaled as deeply as he could. This place smelled more like coffee and grease board markers than anything else.
"Alright," Kutner said, reaching for the penlight in his pocket. "I'm actually going to have to examine you this time. I'll go slow, and if I'm making you uncomfortable, just tell me and I'll back off, but -- there's obviously something wrong, and I just want to fix it."
Alec forced himself to uncurl, which only made the spasming and jerking seem more pronounced. He didn't say it was okay, because it wasn't, but he knew how to hold still. But fixing was often worse than the problem itself.
Kutner gave him a small smile, before moving his hand slowly to brace the side of his face lightly, moving the penlight in front of his eyes to see how responsive he was. And while he was doing that, he decided some friendly conversation wouldn't hurt. "So what's your favorite movie?"
"Don't know." He wasn't trying to be stubborn, he'd just never seen any. If Kutner got the angle of the light right he'd get that reflection that one often sees in animals with good night vision.
"Seriously?" Kutner raised an eyebrow. He was dismissing the eyes as a trick of the light, and moving on to more important matters. "Not even Star Wars?"
"Never." He jerked away from Kutner's hand, but he hadn't done it on purpose. "Never seen it."
Kutner's eyes went wide. "You've never seen Star Wars?" He paused, before shaking his head, and looking back at Dean and Sam. "Dude, you so have to fix that."
"We're on it," Sam smirked. "Next video store we go by, we'll grab it."
"Good," Kutner nodded, before gently placing two fingers against Alec's pulse point to check his heart rate.
Which was most likely jack hammering from nerves and stress. Normally he could control it but not when he was this messed up.
Kutner made a note on the chart, before taking a deep breath. "Okay. I have to run and get a few things, but I'll be right back. If anyone comes in, tell them you're with me. If a middle-aged guy with a limp comes in? Just ignore anything that comes out of his mouth."
Alec nodded and tucked himself back into his ball. "Right. Okay." He wrapped his arm around his legs and rocked a little.
Kutner disappeared out the door, and Dean moved back over to him, sitting on one of the chairs around the table. "How're you doing?"
"Wanna go back to the motel." He blinked at Dean. "'m tired." And hurt and a lot of other things. Including being completely unaware of how young he sounded.
"Soon as Kutner gets you sorted out, we'll head right back, alright?" Dean said with a soft sigh. "We just want to make sure you're okay."
"'m broken. Flawed."
"Everybody's got flaws," Dean said with a sigh.
"They take you apart if you've got too many."
Dean was quiet, watching him for a moment, before shaking his head. "Well, we don't make a habit of taking people apart, and Kutner doesn't either. He wants to fix you -- not the other way around
"That hurts to." This was more mumbled into his knees than anything else. Logic told him when he was being unreasonable. The panic was at a minimum right now with no doctors in sight.
Dean paused for a minute, before tilting his head back and forth. "Maybe it will, maybe it won't. And generally speaking, when he puts us back together, it doesn't hurt all that much and we feel a lot better afterwards." Then again, Dean'd never had seizures, so he couldn't really speak to that point.
And that was all well and good. That was forward brain thinking. Usually he was pretty good at it. But the fear of doctors was very hind brain and not willing to budge far. "Don't leave me alone."
"We won't," Sam nodded. "Right here, the whole time."
As he was saying that, the door for the office on the other side of the conference room opened, and a middle aged man hobbled into the office. At first it was almost as though he wasn't even going to notice them, but something after a moment made him stop, turn, and look at the three men sitting in his conference room. Three men that were clearly not his doctors, and that -- didn't quite work for him. He moved forward a bit, scanning the situation for a moment, and when he spotted the wheelchair, he raised an eyebrow.
"Generally the patients wait in the patient rooms -- conference room's for conferencing. Think you took a few too many wrong turns."
Alec looked up. Cane, limp, attitude, no lab coat or any other doctor trappings. Safe. "It was the coffee." He grit his teeth and tried to stop another round of spasms. At least the attitude was still there.
House had comeback for that, but when he saw the spasms, his head dropped to the side in interest as he started to hobble closer, reaching for the file sitting on the end of the table. "Whose patient are you?"
"Kutner," Dean replied. "He said he'd be right back, he just had to go get a few things."
"Any reason why he's examining you in my conference room, or did he just feel like a change of scenery that wastes my time?" Though he hadn't decided if it was a complete waste of time yet. As far as he was concerned, the kid was still interesting.
The limping man's conference room. The man they were supposed to ignore. Fascinating. That helped take his mind off the panic just a tiny bit. "You saying I'm unattractive?"
That got him a slow smirk as House read over the records Kutner had made. "Maybe you are, but the unexplained, unstoppable seizures are more my type."
Alec's eyes narrowed. "You a doctor?" His voice was full of suspicion.
"That's what my diploma says," he replied, looking up at Alec with a bit of an eyebrow raise. "Doctor Gregory House, MD. I'm the best diagnostician in the state."
And that shut Alec down cold. Not only was this guy a doctor, he was one Alec had just mouthed off to.
Now House was a little disappointed. He dropped the file back down on the table before dropping himself into the chair at the end of it, rubbing his leg lightly. "What? No smart ass response to that? I'm hurt."
"I didn't know you were a doctor before." His tone is quiet. He barely swallows the 'Sir' before it slips out. It wasn't far. There was nothing to give the man away and Alec had almost enjoyed talking to him.
"And that changes things?" House raised an eyebrow. "It's not like I'm going to drop your case because you talk back. You should talk back. If you don't challenge authority, you'll never get what you want."
He shook his head and tried to hide behind his knees. "You talk back things are just worse."
"Last I checked, I couldn't mentally make your symptoms worse. Only your body can do that. The worst I can do to you is call you a moron, and I'm a cripple to boot. In a fight, you'd win."
"I know." Which is true. He knew he'd win. He's known that for years. But he'd had years to learn that he shouldn't fight. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this off balance. There were the seizures themselves, which hurt in a pretty intense and inescapable way, plus Kutner who hadn't so much as said a harsh word, and now this man? He didn't know what anyone wanted from him.
House studied him intensely for a moment, before picking up his cane and bouncing it off the floor for a moment. "Alright. Here's how this will work. You're allowed to mouth off at me or any member of my team as much as you want. I'm giving you permission. Most of the people that work with are used to smart asses, so they wont take it personally." He paused. "Especially Foreman."
"You in charge?" His hands clenched into fists against his shins and he held his breath until the spasms lessoned. "Kutner said we should ignore everything you said." He was testing the facts and that whole smart mouth thing. If he'd been thinking clearly he might not have said it, because he may have just gotten Kutner in to trouble, but there it was.
"Yup," House nodded. "I'm the boss. And I think when Kutner said to ignore me, he meant it more along the lines of if I sad something that offended you."
"Do you normally offend people?" Curiosity really was going to be his downfall. He could talk. That was safe. There was a table between them.
"It's a hobby."
"A dangerous one."
"I don't care. I'd rather tell the truth and offend someone than beat around the bush and not get the answers I need. My job isn't to care about your problems -- you have those, see a shrink. My job is to make you better in whatever way I have to. If you're not going to tell me what I need to know when I smile, what's the point of smiling?"
"To not frighten people? Or to not make them clam up just to spite you?" He closed his eyes and took a couple of slow deep breaths. As amusing as this guy might be it was getting hard to pay attention to anything outside of himself.
House shrugged, before looking at him carefully. He could see the shakes, and he wanted to help them stop. "Kutner noted here that you've had seizures before?"
"Yeah." Nodding would have taken less concentration, but also could have been misinterpreted at this point.
House turned back to the other two. "Do you have the meds Kutner gave him?"
Sam nodded, before reaching into his jacket pocket and handing over the pill container. House studied the label for a moment and frowned.
"If these were normal epileptic seizures, these should have worked. Which means it's something else." He paused, then shifted so that he was leaning closer to Alec. "Tell me about the seizures."
Alec pulled back a little in response, not that he could go far, and blinked at him for a moment. "They suck." No one had ever asked him that before.
"I know that," House said with an eye roll. "What do they feel like? Do you black out, are you aware, that kind of thing."
"I'd like to black out. I want to sleep." Because he was tired. Painfully so. "Feels like ground glass." His eyes shift away as he says it. X5's didn't complain. You just shut your mouth about it and lived through it.
House continued to watch him, resting his chin on his hand for a moment, before Kutner came back into the room. "House. What are you doing here?"
"It's my office," House replied, not even bothering to glance at Kutner before responding to Alec. "We can give you something to help you sleep, but it's going to involve actually admitting you and putting you in a real bed. While I don't mind playing exam room here, I can't have you sleeping in here -- especially if I need to discuss a case."
He was torn. Sleeping through the misery was very appealing. But so very much could be done to him while he was unaware. He didn't even know how to make that choice. So he said nothing.
Kutner paused for a minute, crossing his arms over his chest, before turning back to House. "Isn't there a couch in the doctor's lounge?" House raised an eyebrow back at him, and Kutner shrugged. "It's not a hospital room. It's a bit more -- homey. We put him in there, let him sleep off the shakes, and when he's feeling better, we run whatever tests we need to run. Aside from the seizures, everything else seems fine. And Sam and Dean can sit with him the whole time, make sure that none of the other doctors bug him."
House paused for a moment, before shrugging. "Couch isn't nearly as comfortable as a bed, but if that's what you want -- "
"Couch. Please." That was enough of a compromise for him when stacked up against the lure of sleep.
"Okay -- question," Dean said, glancing back and forth between them. "We sit with him -- all well and good. What if he starts seizing again? Shouldn't he be in one of the special rooms for that?"
Kutner considered that for a moment as he moved to grip the handles of the wheelchair. "If he starts seizing again, we admit him. We don't have a choice at that point -- we need to figure out what's wrong, and he needs to be monitored to make sure that one of them doesn't kill him."
"Be my luck. Die of the shakes." Right now he was getting to tired to maintain his panic. Especially when no one was laying a hand on him.
"Get the IV," House told Kutner, pushing himself to his feet again and grabbing his cane. "I'll show them the way up."
Kutner nodded and handed the wheelchair off to Dean before disappearing out the door.
Alec quelled as soon as they were in the hall and the place smelled of medical again. Of disinfectant and cleaner. Of sickness, blood and fear. He may have made a noise but he wasn't sure.
House quickly directed them back to the elevator, and upstairs to the doctor's lounge. Once they got there, he pushed the door open to make sure no one else was inside, before holding the door open so that they could head in ahead of him.
More coffee. Much better. Miles better.
Dean wheeled him over to the couch on the other end of the room, placed at an L with the old piano in the corner. He brought the chair to a stop and went to grab two of the other chairs for him and his brother while House sat down on the piano bench to wait for Kutner.
Alec's mouth went a little dry when he saw the piano. He could hear music in his head, faint and a little distorted. There was a face, and perfume but he shied away from the memory and looked away from the piano.
Kutner wheeled his way in a few minutes later, an IV with a stand in one hand, and a pillow and blanket in the other. "Figured it'd help," he said with a shrug, before handing Alec the bedding so he could set it up as he felt comfortable.
Alec took the bedding but there was no way he could pretend that the thought of an IV didn't scare the crap out of him. He fell onto the sofa and clutched at the pillow more than anything else.
Kutner moved closer, before reaching for his arm gently. "I'm good at this. You'll barely feel it."
Alec let him for a whole five second and then lost it. He yanked his arm back and moved backwards in an uncoordinated scramble. "Don't." His breathing picked up and panic got the better of him. "Don't."
Kutner held up his hands. "Would pills be better?"
He nodded from his panicked ball of spasming muscles and bedding.
Kutner nodded, before pushing himself up again. "I'll go switch it out." He continued to make his way out of the room, again, and House sighed a bit before turning on the piano bench, letting his fingers run over the keys, before starting to play something slow and simple.
The piano startled him and then sucked in his attention, memories of soft dark hair, an open airy room and a piano. A little of the trembling gave way.
Dean watched him as he watched House, just crossing his arms in front of his chest and watching Alec as he went.
He snuck closer, little by little, intent of watching House's hands as he played.
House glanced back at him after a moment, before looking down at the keys again. "Do you play?"
"I. . .don't know." Which was entirely honest. The hands he saw playing in the hazy memories where not his own, yet he thought he understood the rhythm of it all.
House's head tilted to the side slightly at that, before stopping and sliding off the bench, moving away from it. "Go for it. If you're feeling up to it."
He crept towards the bench, leaving the pillow behind and trailing the blanket. His hands shook a he reached out but the feel of the keys were familiar under the tips of his fingers. He let his mind go blank and his hands moved. Apparently he did know how to play. Then a heavy shudder ran through him and his hand jerk, make a loud discordant noise and he snatched his hands back away from the key and towards himself. "Sorry."
House shook his head. "No, it's fine. Better than fine, actually. You're pretty good."
"I don't even know what the piece was called." He looked down at his unsteady hands.
"You don't?" House frowned, before shrugging. "Well, you played it like you knew it."
"My memory is. . ." He paused looking for the right word. 'Stolen' was the correct word, but not the one he wanted to use. "Hazy at times."
"I see," House nodded. "When you're not shaking as much, maybe you can play it for me again. We'll figure it out."
"Maybe." This room wasn't so bad. And he did want to play the piano now. Rather suddenly. He rubbed the heel of his hand into his temple. He had a headache on top of everything else now.
Kutner reappeared soon after, holding the pills needed in a plastic cup on his hand. "And here we go."
Alec took the little cup and then looked over at Dean and Sam for reassurance.
Dean caught his eye and gave him a small smile. "We're not goin' anywhere."
"'kay." He swallowed the pills dry and the crawled back onto the sofa, hoping they wouldn't take to long to work.
Dean and Sam settled in, while House sat back down on the piano bench, starting to play again softly, something soothing and calm.
He lay curled up on his side and hugged the pillow to him, listened to the piano and waited. He wanted to sleep so badly in hurt. He want the seizures to stop just as badly, because he really wasn't sure how much longer he could take it. He waited. And didn't sleep. Jerked and shook and didn't sleep. Some of the panic ebbed away as the medication wrapped him in a thin layer of mental cotton, but it took some of his self control with it as well. He was still awake and still hurt. "Just.. . shoot me." It would be kinder. He wanted to bawl like a little kid. "Please. Just shoot me."
Dean looked back at Kutner in concern. "It's not working. Why isn't it working?"
Kutner frowned, moving towards Alec to check his pulse, taking his wrist in his hands and finding his pulse point. He then glanced over at House, looking slightly desperate. "I got the right meds, the right dosage -- they should be working."
House paused for a minute, before tilting his head to the side slightly and pushed himself up, making his way over. "Did you take a history?"
"As much as I could get -- I didn't really get a chance."
"Put him in a room downstairs and start him on the IV, see if that helps with the shakes better. Note all the symptoms, call Taub and Thirteen -- we'll start a differential."
"Okay," Kutner nodded, before going to move to get the wheelchair.
Alec watched and listened. He understood, and felt a pretty strong twinge of worry at the idea of an IV, but it took a minute for it to filter down into words. "Don't like needles."
"Me either," Kutner nodded. "Gives me the creeps. But it'll help with the drugs in your system, and as I said -- I'm really good with getting them in without you feeling a thing."
House had started to hobble out of the room, before turning back to face them again. "This might be a matter of tolerance more than a symptom. Try upping the dosage a bit and seeing if that works better. If not, we'll keep going."
Kutner nodded, before starting to wheel Alec out of the room, trying to find an empty room.
"I'm really broken this time. Aren't I?" He clutched the blanket around him.
"Nothing that's not fixable," Kutner replied. "If anyone can figure this out, House can, alright?"
He nodded. "I'm tired." The tone was definitely something that should have come from an eight year old, not an eighteen year old.
"Well, we're going to work on helping you sleep," Kutner sighed. "Hopefully if I up the dosage like House said, you'll drop off in a few minutes."
He nodded and then rubbed at his face and then looked around for the others. The blanket wrapped around him kept his movement hampered enough that he had to put in less effort.
Sam and Dean were close behind him, and followed him in to the room that Kutner placed him in. Kutner gestured for him to hop up on the bed, and bustled around the room getting together the things that he needed.
Alec gave the bed a puzzled look. Sheets and blankets. Railings that weren't made to actually contain anyone or anything. Blankets. He came back to that again. He didn't like the way the room smelled. At all. And said so. But he did want to curl up with the blankets so he got onto the bed anyway.
"I'm afraid there isn't much we can do about that," Kutner sighed. "But the bed's pretty comfortable."
Dean and Sam settled into some of the chairs, before watching Kutner as we went, making it clear that they weren't going anywhere.
"Smells like fear." Which could have been his own memories of Manticore or something from the previous patients that has sunk into the mattress.
Kutner paused for a minute, before shrugging. "Well, I'm not going to lie to you. Hospitals can be scary places."
He nodded, "I don't like it here." But he just didn't have the energy to maintain the level of panic he had going on earlier. He just wanted to not hurt any more.
"It's not all that bad a place to be," Kutner said with a shrug. "I've worked in worse hospitals. Here -- the staff is pretty nice." He paused for a moment, before holding out the hand for Alec's arm again, asking silently but not pushing.
Alec bites him lip, obviously thinking about it, but at this point he wants to sleep and the hurt to stop more than anything else, and lets Kutner have his arm, though his other hand fists in the blanket tight enough to tear holes.
Kutner swabbed the spot quickly, before inserting the IV smoothly, and hanging the bag, getting ready to start the drip.
He made a small frightened kitten noise in the back of his throat was Kutner worked and it was all he could do to not yank it right back out. He closed his eyes. At least Kutner hadn't lied. It really hadn't hurt.
Once he was finished hanging the bag, he turned back to Alec with a small smile. "Just get comfortable, okay? I'll be back in a little while, and Dean and Sam are right here with you."
Alec huddled into his blankets and tried to control the shaking. He heard Kutner leave and when the new meds failed to knock him out with in the first five minutes he spoke up. "Tell be something."
"What's up?" Sam asked, looking over at him.
"My heart rate?" He made another small unhappy noise as he seized. "Just. . .tell me anything. Don't care what."
Sam looked over at Dean, before Dean settled back in his seat and kicked his feet up on the edge of the bed. "So our dad had this storage unit out in Black Rock. He used to keep all these -- "
"Dude, you're telling him a Bela story?" Sam cut him off, arching an eyebrow.
"No, I'm telling him a 'Sam's an idiot' story," Dean said with a smirk, before leaning back. "Anyway -- Dad used to keep all these curse boxes there. They held jinxed objects that he couldn't destroy and needed to keep safe from people who would use them for bad reasons. So one day, we get a call saying that the place had been broken into. When we got there, one of the boxes had been taken, and we had to go out and track it down before people started ending up dead."
He nodded to show he was listening. And was also piling up questions. Not that he was sure he'd remember them later as he was finally starting to feel pretty foggy.
"So. We go and track down the idiots who stole it, and we found out that it was this rabbit foot," Dean continued. "If you touch it, you own it. If you own it, you have a pretty fantastic run of luck. If you lose it -- which you always do -- luck turns sour, and you're dead within a week. Well, guess who was the idiot who touched it?"
"Bean Pole." The smile was only a ghost, and his voice was half asleep despite the constant twitching and jerking. Soon he figured he'd drop off.
"Yup," Dean smirked. "Now for a while, we had a great run of luck -- were up about fifteen grand in the lottery, got some free food, all well and good. Then this bitch showed up, managed to lift the foot off Sam without him knowing it, and it all went downhill from there. Sam pretty much turned into a walking accident -- he lost shoes, set air conditioners on fire, tripped over everything -- it wasn't pretty."
"And it wasn't my fault," Sam pouted. "She was -- distracting."
"She was hot, but she wasn't that distracting."
Sam shook his head before rolling his eyes. "Whatever. I thought I would have felt her reaching into my pocket and I didn't. She was good."
"Not that good." He gave them a slightly woozy grin. "Not if her hand was that," he had to pause, to wait a spasm out. "That close to your dick, and you didn't notice."
That got Sam to blush a bit. "She had just spilled the coffee she was pouring me. I wasn't really -- thinking about that at the moment, alright? And it wasn't even that pocket. The foot was in my jacket."
Dean just grinned. "Whatever you say, Sammy."
Alec was feeling drugged enough to cut Sam some slack. "Hot coffee. No fun." But he still smirked. And if he pressed his nose to the blankets all he could smell was detergent. Not so bad.
"Anyway," Dean sighed. "So once we lost the foot, Sam pretty much became a walking disaster, and I had to almost tie him to a chair to make sure he didn't get himself killed. I went back to Queens, had some words with the bitch in question, got the food back, and arrived just in time to save the damsel in distress from the people who wanted him dead. And I was a total badass as I did it."
He considered. "You badass 'cause you had the foot?" Drugged yes, slow? No. And an equal opportunity smart ass.
"I was a badass because I tossed a pen right into the barrel of a gun, and took out a goon with a remote control. I was friggin' Batman."
"Batman?"
Dean paused for a minute, before shaking his head. "Keep forgetting you don't know pop culture. That's another one we have to rent."
"There a pop culture quick guide?" He curled his fingers around the edge of the mattress.
Sam shrugged. "Might be something on the internet. But some things you still have to learn for yourself."
He pouts. "How long you think it takes this stuff?" Meaning the medication.
Dean frowned. "I dunno. It's still not working?"
He shook his head. "Feel woozy, but still awake."
"Did they make you feel woozy before? Or did they just not work at all?"
"Made me feel like I was wrapped in cotton."
"Is that good or bad?"
"Haven't hit any one. So good?" He paused, "Feeling really honest. Not so good?"
He chuckled. "Honesty isn't always that bad a thing."
As he said that, the sliding door to the room opened, and Kutner and Hadley made their way back into the room. Kutner gave Alec a small smile, before pointing to the woman next to him. "Alec, this is Doctor Hadley. She's one of the other doctors on House's team."
Hadley gave him a small wave, keeping her hands in the pocket of her lab coat.
"Huh. Pretty." Yeah, really honest.
She smiled slightly at that before nodding. "Thank you. Kutner asked me to bring something in for you to pass the time if the meds still aren't working like they should."
Kutner gave him a grin, before holding up the Star Wars DVD boxes. "Episodes four, five and six. They're the good ones, so if you like 'em and you're still here, I'll grab one through three."
"Fiction right? Not up to learning." Because he'd been shown educational films before.
"Totally fiction," Kutner nodded, before handing the DVDs over to Dean. "They were made in the late seventies, early eighties too, so they're older."
"Older than me." That didn't bother him. It's not like he had anything to compare it to. Though all movies would be compared to these from now on. He shuffled around on the bed until he was facing the TV, not even pretending he had an ounce of coordination left.
Kutner nodded, before moving back to business. "House wants us to run some blood work and get a spinal tap."
He stopped moving, wholly, shakes and all for about five seconds. "Spinal tap?" It was more of a squeak than anything else. He wasn't asking what it was. He knew.
"We'll try to be as gentle as possible about it," Hadley nodded. "House also wants us to get some image studies done, but we'd thought we'd leave it up to you as to which one you wanted first."
"Doesn't matter." He huddled up as much as possible, and tried to tell himself he wasn't going to have hysterics. One could assume from his behavior he's most likely had this done before.
"I'm going to vote for the hard stuff first then," Hadley nodded. "We'll try to be as quick as we can, alright?"
He nodded. As if it wasn't terrifying. Not only were they going to have to touch him, they'd be at his back where he couldn't see them, and jabbing at his spine, which would hurt in a rather unique way. He waited to be told what to do and made it a point to burry his face in his blankets.
Kutner moved closer to him, and reached for the box of latex gloves. "Who would you rather do it? Me or Hadley?"
"You." It was muffled. Hadley may be hot but he still didn't want her touching him. He wanted to curl up with his siblings, he wanted someone to make him feel better, but things only seemed to be going down hill.
They moved through the tests as quickly as they could, and once it was over, Hadley took the samples to the lab while Kutner gave him a comforting smile. "I'm gonna hang another IV, and we'll be back as soon as we have some answers, okay?"
"Yeah. Sure." He palmed tears of his face and did his best to pretend that they'd never happened, but soldier or no, he was only 18, in an environment that was bother foreign and frightening. He was nearing the end of his rope.
Dean and Sam waited for the two doctors to disappear out the door, before Dean picked up the DVD box for Episode Four. "I think it's time for Star Wars."
"Sure you won’t shoot me?" He was pretty much dead serious.
"Positive," Dean said with a nod, before going to put the DVD in.
He inched closer to them, as close as he could get and still stay on the bed. The instructions to stay laying flat on his back after the spinal tap were utterly ignored. "Yeah. Okay." He didn't have it in him to argue any more, so he just watched the movie and tried not to sniffle like a three year old.
Dean and Sam both kicked back on the bed, and settled in to watch. They both kept an eye on Alec out of the corner of their eye, just checking to make sure nothing bad happened.
Alec crept closer and close to them until he had silently settled between them, curled up. If he had been in Manticore he would have snuck onto CeCe or Biggs' bunk by now. But this would do. If they wouldn't shoot him then they had to take care of him.
Which they didn't mind doing. Dean shifted closer subconsciously, used to Sam curling up closer to him when he was injured, so it was almost instinct. Sam just watched the two of them, staying close and paying attention to the movie.
Alec eventually settled when he had his back pressed to Dean's thigh and his shins to Sam's. He tried really hard not to kick Sam accidentally and to enjoy the movie. He approved of Han.
Dean glanced at his brother about halfway through the movie over the kid's head. Sam smirked slightly, before shrugging. This was the most Alec had let them touch him since they'd gotten him, and they weren't complaining too much. They were just happy that he was finally starting to trust them a bit.
"I want to sleep. I shouldn't need to, but I want to." He liked how he was warmer between them and could smell the hospital less, more gunpowder and leather than anything else.
Dean moved down to look at him, tilting his head to the side slightly. "And you can't get to sleep on your own?"
He shook his head. "Can't. Been trying."
"Well, hopefully they'll have something soon," Dean sighed. "Maybe the sooner they fix it, the sooner you'll get to sleep."
"Thought this was supposed to help." He tugs at the IV tubing. Then looks like he's seriously considering yanking it out. Because when he thinks about it directly it creeps him out. A lot.
"The anti-convulsants were supposed to work too," Sam replied. "Something doesn't seem to be working."
He nods and swallows. "What I get for leaving." He starts to determinedly pick at the tape, though it hard when his hands are already shaking.
Sam reached forward and took his hand gently, trying to get him to stop picking at the tape. "Look, you said you had them before, right? And that place you were in -- they found a way to stop them. So eventually, these doctors are going to find them too. Only a matter of time."
He lets Sam. "Was only seven. Don't know what they did. Just want it stop." He sniffles and wipes at his face with his free hand.
"We know," Dean said with a nod. "And they're working on it. But you gotta trust them a little, alright? These things don't happen over night."
"'Kay." Because he doesn't have a choice. He knows he couldn't even stand up on his own right now, let along find his boots to leave. He had a grip on himself again. At least for a little while.
The Winchesters just settled in to watch the movies, only getting up when they had to switch out the DVDs, but a few hours later, House pushed open the door, looking over that them with a heavy sigh. It took him a minute to hobble his way in, and he had a cup of pills in his hand.
"My staff and I are morons." He rarely ever included himself in the category of morons, but in this situation, he felt like one.
"Is there anything we can say to that?" At the moment Alec felt that he had a reasonably firm grip on his emotions.
"Do we get to know why, at least?" Sam followed, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, I could also blame you for not mentioning that he's special -- in the genetically engineered kind of way," House said with a sigh. "But I figured that isn't exactly something you want to broadcast to a crowded ER."
Alec stiffened. Then shrank in on himself. "What are you going to do?" He was clearly afraid of the answer.
"I'm not sending you back." House glanced over the three of them for a moment. "I've heard of Manticore. I may be unethical but I'm not completely amoral. And I won't say anything either." He held out the cup of pills before continuing. "I adjusted the dosage to work better -- they should have worked before, but since Kutner didn't know about your souped up metabolism, he didn't realize that he needed a higher dose."
"That's it?" He reached for the pills.
"That's it," House nodded.
He sits up enough to swallow them without choking. "So why the hell can't I sleep?" He lays back down, because it's going to take a while for the meds to kick in. "How'd you know?"
"Seizures are likely caused by a deficiency of serotonin. You need serotonin to sleep, and the smaller does that you had weren't helping, so you couldn't sleep," House sighed. "As for how I knew -- your test results were chalk full of bonus stem cells. That's not exactly normal."
"Why are you an idiot?" That part he couldn't figure out.
"Because I should have figured it out sooner," House sighed. "The patchy memories, no medical history, the drugs not working the way they should. I'm surprised I didn't see the barcode. I didn't even realize it was there until Kutner mentioned it."
Alec put a hand up to cover it. He wasn't sure if Sam and Dean had even noticed it. It wasn't like he just showed it to people.
Sam had seen it when he was cutting out the tracker, but hadn't said anything. Dean hadn't noticed so much, but they both raised an eye and how much House knew about how Alec worked.
House just shrugged. "As I said, your secret's safe with me. I want to keep you for a couple more hours to make sure that the meds are working, and then we'll cut you loose. Just don't forget to pick up the prescription on the way out."
"'Kay. You work for them? Before. 'cause I don't recognize you." Or more accurately his scent.
"They tried," House shrugged. "I turned them down. Aimless torture isn't really my idea of a good time."
"No manual for us. Gotta learn somehow." It was a knee jerk reaction. That same instinct that told him to walk back to hell when Sam and Dean had first stolen him.
House tilted his head to the side slightly, before shaking his head. "There's always ways other than cutting open defenseless kids. Plus, the military kind of makes me want to vomit."
"I was never a kid. Just young. And I haven't been defenseless since I was five. Pretty much dangerous as hell since I was six." He didn't deny that they'd, that he'd, been cut open and experimented on though. Alec more than most. He was a fuck up with a crazy twin, or possibly a sane twin, he hardly knew any more. Expendable. That was the truth.
It was also why he had such a bone deep fear of doctors. He appreciated more than words that Kutner and House kept their distance. It was major points in their favor.
"Dangerous as hell physically, sure. Not mentally. You were conditioned not to fight back, and when you did, you were probably punished pretty severely for it. That's pretty much the definition of defenseless."
Which was true here as well. He may have tried to get away, but he had never lashed out. And if someone gave him an order he obeyed. He'd buck almost anyone. But not a doctor. Hell, he never even asked what medication he was being given. And he'd questioned everything at Mama's. He didn't say anything, just looked away from House.
House tapped his cane floor on the floor a few times, before looking up at him again and responding. "If there are any other problems, page us. Otherwise, we'll come back to release you in a few hours."
"Thanks." Because, comparatively the really hadn't hurt him. Because they'd treated him like he had feelings both physical and emotional, and he didn't want to alienate that.
"You're welcome," House said with a nod, before turning and heading out the door again.
Alec wasn't really sure that there was anything he could or should say so he just let things lapse into silence, tried to ignore the shakes which should go away soon, and watch the movie.
Dean and Sam glanced at each other for a moment, both looking a bit concerned. Dean paused, before looking down at him again. "You okay?"
"He said I would be. He said the shakes would stop." They had heard that too, right?
"Not what I meant, dude," Dean replied.
Alec shifted to look up at him, confusions written clearly on his face. "What did you mean then?"
"You know -- emotionally," Dean said awkwardly, not really sure how to explain it. "Your head on okay?"
Alec blinked at him and clearly put thought into his answer. "I don't know about the first." There were a lot of emotions there and he wasn't quite sure how to sort them out or shut them up yet. "But for the second I'm good for what ever you need me to do."
Dean looked up at Sam again, and the other man paused for a minute before turning back to Alec. "Look, if you ever want to talk about something -- you can come to us, alright? We don't mind listening."
"I wouldn't even know what to talk about. I don't know what's normal and what isn't. What's okay and what isn't." He's quiet for a minute. "I think I'm always going to get things wrong."
"Well, it's okay if you do," Sam said with a shrug. "Just -- talk to us if you need to. We can take it. We've seen a hell of a lot."
He took a minute to think about that. To turn it over and compare it to his previous facts. It was easier as the shaking eased off a little. "Why did you steal me? I mean, what the hell were you thinking when you looked over at me and decided to take me with you?" He was getting longer sentences out again to. For which he was grateful.
"Dean doesn't think often," Sam joked with a smirk, and Dean shot his brother a look before responding.
"I thought you needed help," Dean shrugged. "We tend to help people. I mean -- they did something to you, we didn't know what, and we had a feeling it was all our fault. I figured that since we had at least put you in the bad situation to begin with, the least we could do was get you out of it."
"But I looked bad enough to you that you thought you should do something?" He knew the answer would be yes. He knew enough about them at this point to predict a little. "That. . . that wasn't that bad. It really wasn't. Just. . . " He paused to look for the right words. "It was just a warm up."
"That was just warming up?" Dean's eyebrows shot into his hairline. "That's not exactly making me doubt my decision any."
"Didn't think it would. Just saying that you've seen a lot but still. . . you thought the easy stuff was the bad stuff."
Dean paused for a minute, before his hands dropped to his fingers. "Well, the easy stuff was bad stuff. And don't discount what I've seen all that quickly. Some of the stuff that I've been through -- turns a person into something else. I've been through Hell -- literally, and someone was kind enough to pull me out and put me back here. So I figure if they can do that for me, I might as well pay it forward."
"Hell is real?" He looked at his own hands. "I want to play with that piano again. I can almost remember and I want to play with that piano again."
Dean glanced over at Sam, and Sam started to slide off the bed. "I'll go see what House says. He said he'd let you play again, so -- shouldn't be a problem."
"You don't have to go if you don't want." They'd already done more for him than he could expect. More than he had a right to expect. "I can wait."
"No, it's fine," Sam said with a shrug. "I need to stretch my legs anyway." With that he disappeared out the door and headed down the hallway, while Dean nudged him to move over a bit, so they could both fit on the bed.
Alec did move, with much more ease than he had been for at least the last 24 hours. "Legs don't need to be stretched and farther. He's already freakishly tall." It was mostly a mutter though.
Dean chuckled softly, shaking his head. Then he paused and rubbed his hands lightly. "Hell is real, to answer your earlier question."
He was quiet for a long minute. "I bet it's different for every person." It wasn't that he thought Dean was being metaphorical. Dean wasn't using that kind of tone. He was using the tone that said 'this is the truth' like he had when telling Alec about ghosts. But something as awful as Hell had to be flexible, right? To really get the right amount of horror for each person.
"You're probably right," Dean said with a nod. "But me -- they wanted something from me. So I got the extra special torture chamber with the guy who actually liked to stick around in the Pit because he got to torture people. It wasn't exactly the best thirty years of my life."
"It's worse when they enjoy it." He picked at the tape holding the IV down and then at one of his few scars. "One of them told me not to make noise because it was annoying." Maybe He and Dean were sort of coming from the same place. At least a little. "So I didn't." He looked up at Dean. "Did they get what they wanted?"
"Yeah," Dean said with a nod. "They did. And when I got pulled out, I had to stop them from finishing the job that I had unintentionally started."
"Forced to clean up your own mess even when it isn't you fault."
"Something like that. It's kind of complicated. If you ever meet Cas, I'll fill in the rest of the story. But at the end of the day I got it done. And things got better."
"I. . .think I'm bad at cleaning up my messes."
"Nobody's good at cleaning up their messes. I didn't even clean up that mess particularly well -- we lost a lot of people that year. I almost lost Sam." It seemed like so long ago now -- he almost couldn't believe that that had actually happened to him.
"And now you're cleaning up the mess I got myself into." There's another one of his pauses. "I'm supposed to be competent." Then almost out of nowhere. "Why are you telling me this?" His tone suggests he's just trying to understand.
"I have no idea," Dean admitted. "I just -- I guess I need to let you know that I know how bad some shit can get. I've been through the worse. If you want to talk -- I can listen."
He nodded and stayed quiet for a long minute. "I don't mind listening to." He stares down at his hands that don't have a mark on them, not even calloused for handling weapons, and then at Dean's, with all the little marks of living. "I can heal from almost anything. I hate it."
"Hate it?" Dean rose an eyebrow. "Why?"
He holds his left arm out so Dean can see it. Completely unmark and unscarred aside from a thin strip of shiny burn scar along the inside of the elbow. No reason to notice unless it's pointed out. "You know what a fifth degree burn is?"
He frowned for a moment. "Didn't know they went that high."
"That's when it's so deep there's bone damage. Most people don't live through it."
"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered. "How'd you manage one of those?"
"They wanted to see if we'd heal from it." He flexed his hand and wrist. "I did. But if any one ever tells you burns don't hurt past the surface, tell them they're wrong." He let his arm drop. "And I mean, not that I'm not glad to still have my arm, but . . .shouldn't I have more to show for that than one tiny little mark that no one even sees unless I point it out?" He bit his lip. "Anna was talking about how being numbered had a dehumanizing effect. That's not what keeps us from being people." He spread his hand out again. "This does. Nothing ever leaves any marks. We don't show the damage, so nothing curbs it."
"Damn," Dean shook his head slightly. "The only time I've been through something that bad was down there. Hearing that it was done up here? On people who could die from something like that? That's disgusting."
"I wouldn't have died." He would have been spare parts, which is worse. "I just. . . don't like doctors."
"I don't blame you," Dean nodded. "But not all of them are like the douchebags that took you apart. Especially not guys like Kutner. He just genuinely likes helping people."
"He didn't touch me when I asked him not to." He says it like the man should get a Nobel Peace prize. "House either."
"Most people on the outside don't and won't," Dean nodded. "Most people will treat you like a person."
"I'm not sure I know how to be one. I can do cat better than I can do person I think." He yawned as if to illustrate.
"You'll figure out as you go. If not, you'll just be a weird guy. Since me and Sam are weirdos on top of that -- you'll fit in just fine."
". . .I think that's the first pep talk I've ever been given."
Dean laughed as Sam came back into the room. "Yeah, well -- that's me. Always good for the pep talk."
"I might need one once a week. Just to see if you can keep it up." He tries to push himself into a sitting position as Sam comes in. The seizures have mostly stopped but he feels like a wet noodle. And about as wobbly.
Sam gave them a small smile, before jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "House said you could have free reign of the piano. So whenever you want to head up, it's cool."
"Now. Before I loose, what ever this is." He pulled him up by pure determination.
Dean pushed himself off the bed before reaching for the wheelchair and wheeling it back over to him, so that he didn't have to go very far.
Alec sneers at the thing, like its an insult to his dignity. But sits anyway. Because falling over would mar that dignity further.
Sam just grinned, before letting Dean wheel him out of the room and back to the doctor's lounge. They arrived there a few minutes later, Dean bringing him to a stop right next to the piano bench.
Alec moves onto the bench, wincing. He is sore everywhere. More than sore really. "I think I want to roll in painkillers later." There's a pause. "I can have pain killers, right?" More asking permission than anything else.
"Yeah," Sam nodded. "I think that was on the scrip too."
"Awesome." He sets his hands on the keys. "I could totally suck. I mean. . .I could know nothing."
"Dude, do we look like we know good piano playing?" Dean replied, plopping down on the couch.
"Everyone knows when someone sucks." But the feel of the keys was so hauntingly familiar. He closed his eyes and again got the cotton wrapped memory of a baby grand in an airy room. He ran his fingers back and forth, not pressing anything and the piano was now in a room at Manticore. He shook his head a pressed down. His fingers knew what they were doing even if the rest of him was lost.
Dean and Sam just settled in to listen for a while, letting him figure out what he needed to figure out.
He played, entirely classical and caught little glimpses. And office, a grand spiral stair case, his own reflection in glasses. Little bits and pieces as he cycled through the music, sometimes finishing a piece, sometimes not.
The Winchesters were quiet through most of it, but listened appreciatively, not making a comment or face either way.
Every now and then he saw a soft mischievous smile. That was what he's been searching for. He tried to chase the memory. Tried to find the music that matched it. He ended up playing something distinctly non classical.
The Peanuts theme in fact. Which ended suddenly and violently when his hands slammed down on the keys with a loud angry rattle and stopped. There was a locket and an explosion and his head hurt.
Dean and Sam both looked up at the loud clash of keys, and were concerned. "Alec?" Sam said softly, starting to push himself off and make his way over. "You alright?"
"I. . .I think they killed her." He didn't look up.
"Killed who?" Sam asked gently, Dean letting him take this one.
"Don't know." He shook his head hard. "She had a gold locket. Smelled like cinnamon."
"She was someone close to you?"
"I can't remember." And it clearly frustrated him. His hands shook again, but it was more from upset and exhaustion than the seizures returning.
"Just take it easy," Sam said, placing a hand on his shoulder gently. "It'll come back to you. Sometimes things take more time than other."
"Sometimes they never come back." He leans forward until the top of his head rests against the piano, though he wasn't pulling away from Sam's hand. He was just tired.
Dean looked over at him for a minute. "Maybe we should head back to the room. See if you can get some sleep."
"Maybe." He was officially out of energy.
Dean pushed himself to his feet and started to move the wheelchair back over from behind him.
Alec didn't bother arguing this time. He just silently complied, because Dean was right. He wanted to sleep.
Dean wheeled him around and started the trek back to the room, not stopping until they were inside by the bed.
Alec crawled from one to the other without a word, yawned, stretched, curled up and fell asleep.
Kutner got paged to the ER, and he wasn't sure why, or if he was going to like what he found there. As soon as he got down there, though, he found Sam shoving himself between Cameron and the kid they had brought in earlier. The kid wasn't looking good in the slightest, and now he was more concerned and kicking himself for not looking him over more when he had the chance.
Dean looked over at Kutner and sighed in relief. "Thank God. Took you long enough."
Kutner shook his head before responding. "What happened?"
Alec hadn't fought this time, because he couldn't. He couldn't have gotten out of his own way right not if someone had paid him. He hadn't fought because they had said they wouldn't leave him. But that didn't calm the panic. Especially not when they had him up on a gurney with to many medical people all getting to close. He had one hand wrapped white knuckled around the railing, and the tight grip was only partially because of the muscle spasms. He was huddled up as close to the wall as he could get.
"He had another seizure. He's been taking the meds, but he just started seizing all over again," Sam explained, as Kutner started to make his way closer. He glanced around at all the other people surrounding them, and knew he was freaking Alec out a bit too much. He moved over grabbing a wheelchair from the side, before rolling it up close to the bed.
"C'mon -- let's go somewhere a little less crowded."
He looked back and forth between Kutner, who was merely the lesser of two evils, and Sam and Dean. It was pretty clear that they'd stick with him. "Don't touch me." He wanted it clear that he was in no way agreeing to let anyone get that close. After a long minute he peeled his hand away from the railing and moved to the chair though he huddled there to. Knees up, feet on the seat. The railing had bent under his hand.
Kutner bailed him out of there as fast as he could, doing his best not to touch him. Dean and Sam followed quickly, sliding into the nearest elevator behind him as Kutner hit the button for House's floor. As soon as the doors closed and they were moving, he let go of the handles of the wheelchair and leaned back against the wall looking at the other two men. "So the meds didn't work?"
"Sorry." He was miserable. He hurt, he was fall down tired, the shakes were pretty much a constant. And the smell of this place and the people in it terrified him.
Kutner sighed slightly, pressing a fist to his lips as he thought. "Which means epilepsy isn't the source of the seizures." He paused for a moment, before looking at the numbers as they blinked through. "We may have to talk to my boss."
Alec merely tried to make himself smaller. But there was only so small someone six feet tall could be. No matter how thin.
Kutner glanced over at him before giving him a small smile. "If it makes you feel any better? He doesn't like conversing face to face with patients. So you'll probably never even meet him."
"Maybe?" Honestly he had no idea what to even begin to say to this man. No doctor had ever tried to talk to him before.
Kutner nodded for a minute, before the elevator doors opened to a quiet, empty hallway. He gripped the handles of the chair again, starting to roll Alec forward. "I can put you in one of the generic hospital rooms, or we could sit in talk in one of the conference rooms. Wherever you're more comfortable."
"Conference room?"
"Conference room it is," Kutner nodded, before heading down the hallway towards House's office, silently hoping that he wasn't there. When they arrived, he pulled the glass door open, ushering them all inside, before moving to close the blinds.
Alec's eyes closed and he inhaled as deeply as he could. This place smelled more like coffee and grease board markers than anything else.
"Alright," Kutner said, reaching for the penlight in his pocket. "I'm actually going to have to examine you this time. I'll go slow, and if I'm making you uncomfortable, just tell me and I'll back off, but -- there's obviously something wrong, and I just want to fix it."
Alec forced himself to uncurl, which only made the spasming and jerking seem more pronounced. He didn't say it was okay, because it wasn't, but he knew how to hold still. But fixing was often worse than the problem itself.
Kutner gave him a small smile, before moving his hand slowly to brace the side of his face lightly, moving the penlight in front of his eyes to see how responsive he was. And while he was doing that, he decided some friendly conversation wouldn't hurt. "So what's your favorite movie?"
"Don't know." He wasn't trying to be stubborn, he'd just never seen any. If Kutner got the angle of the light right he'd get that reflection that one often sees in animals with good night vision.
"Seriously?" Kutner raised an eyebrow. He was dismissing the eyes as a trick of the light, and moving on to more important matters. "Not even Star Wars?"
"Never." He jerked away from Kutner's hand, but he hadn't done it on purpose. "Never seen it."
Kutner's eyes went wide. "You've never seen Star Wars?" He paused, before shaking his head, and looking back at Dean and Sam. "Dude, you so have to fix that."
"We're on it," Sam smirked. "Next video store we go by, we'll grab it."
"Good," Kutner nodded, before gently placing two fingers against Alec's pulse point to check his heart rate.
Which was most likely jack hammering from nerves and stress. Normally he could control it but not when he was this messed up.
Kutner made a note on the chart, before taking a deep breath. "Okay. I have to run and get a few things, but I'll be right back. If anyone comes in, tell them you're with me. If a middle-aged guy with a limp comes in? Just ignore anything that comes out of his mouth."
Alec nodded and tucked himself back into his ball. "Right. Okay." He wrapped his arm around his legs and rocked a little.
Kutner disappeared out the door, and Dean moved back over to him, sitting on one of the chairs around the table. "How're you doing?"
"Wanna go back to the motel." He blinked at Dean. "'m tired." And hurt and a lot of other things. Including being completely unaware of how young he sounded.
"Soon as Kutner gets you sorted out, we'll head right back, alright?" Dean said with a soft sigh. "We just want to make sure you're okay."
"'m broken. Flawed."
"Everybody's got flaws," Dean said with a sigh.
"They take you apart if you've got too many."
Dean was quiet, watching him for a moment, before shaking his head. "Well, we don't make a habit of taking people apart, and Kutner doesn't either. He wants to fix you -- not the other way around
"That hurts to." This was more mumbled into his knees than anything else. Logic told him when he was being unreasonable. The panic was at a minimum right now with no doctors in sight.
Dean paused for a minute, before tilting his head back and forth. "Maybe it will, maybe it won't. And generally speaking, when he puts us back together, it doesn't hurt all that much and we feel a lot better afterwards." Then again, Dean'd never had seizures, so he couldn't really speak to that point.
And that was all well and good. That was forward brain thinking. Usually he was pretty good at it. But the fear of doctors was very hind brain and not willing to budge far. "Don't leave me alone."
"We won't," Sam nodded. "Right here, the whole time."
As he was saying that, the door for the office on the other side of the conference room opened, and a middle aged man hobbled into the office. At first it was almost as though he wasn't even going to notice them, but something after a moment made him stop, turn, and look at the three men sitting in his conference room. Three men that were clearly not his doctors, and that -- didn't quite work for him. He moved forward a bit, scanning the situation for a moment, and when he spotted the wheelchair, he raised an eyebrow.
"Generally the patients wait in the patient rooms -- conference room's for conferencing. Think you took a few too many wrong turns."
Alec looked up. Cane, limp, attitude, no lab coat or any other doctor trappings. Safe. "It was the coffee." He grit his teeth and tried to stop another round of spasms. At least the attitude was still there.
House had comeback for that, but when he saw the spasms, his head dropped to the side in interest as he started to hobble closer, reaching for the file sitting on the end of the table. "Whose patient are you?"
"Kutner," Dean replied. "He said he'd be right back, he just had to go get a few things."
"Any reason why he's examining you in my conference room, or did he just feel like a change of scenery that wastes my time?" Though he hadn't decided if it was a complete waste of time yet. As far as he was concerned, the kid was still interesting.
The limping man's conference room. The man they were supposed to ignore. Fascinating. That helped take his mind off the panic just a tiny bit. "You saying I'm unattractive?"
That got him a slow smirk as House read over the records Kutner had made. "Maybe you are, but the unexplained, unstoppable seizures are more my type."
Alec's eyes narrowed. "You a doctor?" His voice was full of suspicion.
"That's what my diploma says," he replied, looking up at Alec with a bit of an eyebrow raise. "Doctor Gregory House, MD. I'm the best diagnostician in the state."
And that shut Alec down cold. Not only was this guy a doctor, he was one Alec had just mouthed off to.
Now House was a little disappointed. He dropped the file back down on the table before dropping himself into the chair at the end of it, rubbing his leg lightly. "What? No smart ass response to that? I'm hurt."
"I didn't know you were a doctor before." His tone is quiet. He barely swallows the 'Sir' before it slips out. It wasn't far. There was nothing to give the man away and Alec had almost enjoyed talking to him.
"And that changes things?" House raised an eyebrow. "It's not like I'm going to drop your case because you talk back. You should talk back. If you don't challenge authority, you'll never get what you want."
He shook his head and tried to hide behind his knees. "You talk back things are just worse."
"Last I checked, I couldn't mentally make your symptoms worse. Only your body can do that. The worst I can do to you is call you a moron, and I'm a cripple to boot. In a fight, you'd win."
"I know." Which is true. He knew he'd win. He's known that for years. But he'd had years to learn that he shouldn't fight. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this off balance. There were the seizures themselves, which hurt in a pretty intense and inescapable way, plus Kutner who hadn't so much as said a harsh word, and now this man? He didn't know what anyone wanted from him.
House studied him intensely for a moment, before picking up his cane and bouncing it off the floor for a moment. "Alright. Here's how this will work. You're allowed to mouth off at me or any member of my team as much as you want. I'm giving you permission. Most of the people that work with are used to smart asses, so they wont take it personally." He paused. "Especially Foreman."
"You in charge?" His hands clenched into fists against his shins and he held his breath until the spasms lessoned. "Kutner said we should ignore everything you said." He was testing the facts and that whole smart mouth thing. If he'd been thinking clearly he might not have said it, because he may have just gotten Kutner in to trouble, but there it was.
"Yup," House nodded. "I'm the boss. And I think when Kutner said to ignore me, he meant it more along the lines of if I sad something that offended you."
"Do you normally offend people?" Curiosity really was going to be his downfall. He could talk. That was safe. There was a table between them.
"It's a hobby."
"A dangerous one."
"I don't care. I'd rather tell the truth and offend someone than beat around the bush and not get the answers I need. My job isn't to care about your problems -- you have those, see a shrink. My job is to make you better in whatever way I have to. If you're not going to tell me what I need to know when I smile, what's the point of smiling?"
"To not frighten people? Or to not make them clam up just to spite you?" He closed his eyes and took a couple of slow deep breaths. As amusing as this guy might be it was getting hard to pay attention to anything outside of himself.
House shrugged, before looking at him carefully. He could see the shakes, and he wanted to help them stop. "Kutner noted here that you've had seizures before?"
"Yeah." Nodding would have taken less concentration, but also could have been misinterpreted at this point.
House turned back to the other two. "Do you have the meds Kutner gave him?"
Sam nodded, before reaching into his jacket pocket and handing over the pill container. House studied the label for a moment and frowned.
"If these were normal epileptic seizures, these should have worked. Which means it's something else." He paused, then shifted so that he was leaning closer to Alec. "Tell me about the seizures."
Alec pulled back a little in response, not that he could go far, and blinked at him for a moment. "They suck." No one had ever asked him that before.
"I know that," House said with an eye roll. "What do they feel like? Do you black out, are you aware, that kind of thing."
"I'd like to black out. I want to sleep." Because he was tired. Painfully so. "Feels like ground glass." His eyes shift away as he says it. X5's didn't complain. You just shut your mouth about it and lived through it.
House continued to watch him, resting his chin on his hand for a moment, before Kutner came back into the room. "House. What are you doing here?"
"It's my office," House replied, not even bothering to glance at Kutner before responding to Alec. "We can give you something to help you sleep, but it's going to involve actually admitting you and putting you in a real bed. While I don't mind playing exam room here, I can't have you sleeping in here -- especially if I need to discuss a case."
He was torn. Sleeping through the misery was very appealing. But so very much could be done to him while he was unaware. He didn't even know how to make that choice. So he said nothing.
Kutner paused for a minute, crossing his arms over his chest, before turning back to House. "Isn't there a couch in the doctor's lounge?" House raised an eyebrow back at him, and Kutner shrugged. "It's not a hospital room. It's a bit more -- homey. We put him in there, let him sleep off the shakes, and when he's feeling better, we run whatever tests we need to run. Aside from the seizures, everything else seems fine. And Sam and Dean can sit with him the whole time, make sure that none of the other doctors bug him."
House paused for a moment, before shrugging. "Couch isn't nearly as comfortable as a bed, but if that's what you want -- "
"Couch. Please." That was enough of a compromise for him when stacked up against the lure of sleep.
"Okay -- question," Dean said, glancing back and forth between them. "We sit with him -- all well and good. What if he starts seizing again? Shouldn't he be in one of the special rooms for that?"
Kutner considered that for a moment as he moved to grip the handles of the wheelchair. "If he starts seizing again, we admit him. We don't have a choice at that point -- we need to figure out what's wrong, and he needs to be monitored to make sure that one of them doesn't kill him."
"Be my luck. Die of the shakes." Right now he was getting to tired to maintain his panic. Especially when no one was laying a hand on him.
"Get the IV," House told Kutner, pushing himself to his feet again and grabbing his cane. "I'll show them the way up."
Kutner nodded and handed the wheelchair off to Dean before disappearing out the door.
Alec quelled as soon as they were in the hall and the place smelled of medical again. Of disinfectant and cleaner. Of sickness, blood and fear. He may have made a noise but he wasn't sure.
House quickly directed them back to the elevator, and upstairs to the doctor's lounge. Once they got there, he pushed the door open to make sure no one else was inside, before holding the door open so that they could head in ahead of him.
More coffee. Much better. Miles better.
Dean wheeled him over to the couch on the other end of the room, placed at an L with the old piano in the corner. He brought the chair to a stop and went to grab two of the other chairs for him and his brother while House sat down on the piano bench to wait for Kutner.
Alec's mouth went a little dry when he saw the piano. He could hear music in his head, faint and a little distorted. There was a face, and perfume but he shied away from the memory and looked away from the piano.
Kutner wheeled his way in a few minutes later, an IV with a stand in one hand, and a pillow and blanket in the other. "Figured it'd help," he said with a shrug, before handing Alec the bedding so he could set it up as he felt comfortable.
Alec took the bedding but there was no way he could pretend that the thought of an IV didn't scare the crap out of him. He fell onto the sofa and clutched at the pillow more than anything else.
Kutner moved closer, before reaching for his arm gently. "I'm good at this. You'll barely feel it."
Alec let him for a whole five second and then lost it. He yanked his arm back and moved backwards in an uncoordinated scramble. "Don't." His breathing picked up and panic got the better of him. "Don't."
Kutner held up his hands. "Would pills be better?"
He nodded from his panicked ball of spasming muscles and bedding.
Kutner nodded, before pushing himself up again. "I'll go switch it out." He continued to make his way out of the room, again, and House sighed a bit before turning on the piano bench, letting his fingers run over the keys, before starting to play something slow and simple.
The piano startled him and then sucked in his attention, memories of soft dark hair, an open airy room and a piano. A little of the trembling gave way.
Dean watched him as he watched House, just crossing his arms in front of his chest and watching Alec as he went.
He snuck closer, little by little, intent of watching House's hands as he played.
House glanced back at him after a moment, before looking down at the keys again. "Do you play?"
"I. . .don't know." Which was entirely honest. The hands he saw playing in the hazy memories where not his own, yet he thought he understood the rhythm of it all.
House's head tilted to the side slightly at that, before stopping and sliding off the bench, moving away from it. "Go for it. If you're feeling up to it."
He crept towards the bench, leaving the pillow behind and trailing the blanket. His hands shook a he reached out but the feel of the keys were familiar under the tips of his fingers. He let his mind go blank and his hands moved. Apparently he did know how to play. Then a heavy shudder ran through him and his hand jerk, make a loud discordant noise and he snatched his hands back away from the key and towards himself. "Sorry."
House shook his head. "No, it's fine. Better than fine, actually. You're pretty good."
"I don't even know what the piece was called." He looked down at his unsteady hands.
"You don't?" House frowned, before shrugging. "Well, you played it like you knew it."
"My memory is. . ." He paused looking for the right word. 'Stolen' was the correct word, but not the one he wanted to use. "Hazy at times."
"I see," House nodded. "When you're not shaking as much, maybe you can play it for me again. We'll figure it out."
"Maybe." This room wasn't so bad. And he did want to play the piano now. Rather suddenly. He rubbed the heel of his hand into his temple. He had a headache on top of everything else now.
Kutner reappeared soon after, holding the pills needed in a plastic cup on his hand. "And here we go."
Alec took the little cup and then looked over at Dean and Sam for reassurance.
Dean caught his eye and gave him a small smile. "We're not goin' anywhere."
"'kay." He swallowed the pills dry and the crawled back onto the sofa, hoping they wouldn't take to long to work.
Dean and Sam settled in, while House sat back down on the piano bench, starting to play again softly, something soothing and calm.
He lay curled up on his side and hugged the pillow to him, listened to the piano and waited. He wanted to sleep so badly in hurt. He want the seizures to stop just as badly, because he really wasn't sure how much longer he could take it. He waited. And didn't sleep. Jerked and shook and didn't sleep. Some of the panic ebbed away as the medication wrapped him in a thin layer of mental cotton, but it took some of his self control with it as well. He was still awake and still hurt. "Just.. . shoot me." It would be kinder. He wanted to bawl like a little kid. "Please. Just shoot me."
Dean looked back at Kutner in concern. "It's not working. Why isn't it working?"
Kutner frowned, moving towards Alec to check his pulse, taking his wrist in his hands and finding his pulse point. He then glanced over at House, looking slightly desperate. "I got the right meds, the right dosage -- they should be working."
House paused for a minute, before tilting his head to the side slightly and pushed himself up, making his way over. "Did you take a history?"
"As much as I could get -- I didn't really get a chance."
"Put him in a room downstairs and start him on the IV, see if that helps with the shakes better. Note all the symptoms, call Taub and Thirteen -- we'll start a differential."
"Okay," Kutner nodded, before going to move to get the wheelchair.
Alec watched and listened. He understood, and felt a pretty strong twinge of worry at the idea of an IV, but it took a minute for it to filter down into words. "Don't like needles."
"Me either," Kutner nodded. "Gives me the creeps. But it'll help with the drugs in your system, and as I said -- I'm really good with getting them in without you feeling a thing."
House had started to hobble out of the room, before turning back to face them again. "This might be a matter of tolerance more than a symptom. Try upping the dosage a bit and seeing if that works better. If not, we'll keep going."
Kutner nodded, before starting to wheel Alec out of the room, trying to find an empty room.
"I'm really broken this time. Aren't I?" He clutched the blanket around him.
"Nothing that's not fixable," Kutner replied. "If anyone can figure this out, House can, alright?"
He nodded. "I'm tired." The tone was definitely something that should have come from an eight year old, not an eighteen year old.
"Well, we're going to work on helping you sleep," Kutner sighed. "Hopefully if I up the dosage like House said, you'll drop off in a few minutes."
He nodded and then rubbed at his face and then looked around for the others. The blanket wrapped around him kept his movement hampered enough that he had to put in less effort.
Sam and Dean were close behind him, and followed him in to the room that Kutner placed him in. Kutner gestured for him to hop up on the bed, and bustled around the room getting together the things that he needed.
Alec gave the bed a puzzled look. Sheets and blankets. Railings that weren't made to actually contain anyone or anything. Blankets. He came back to that again. He didn't like the way the room smelled. At all. And said so. But he did want to curl up with the blankets so he got onto the bed anyway.
"I'm afraid there isn't much we can do about that," Kutner sighed. "But the bed's pretty comfortable."
Dean and Sam settled into some of the chairs, before watching Kutner as we went, making it clear that they weren't going anywhere.
"Smells like fear." Which could have been his own memories of Manticore or something from the previous patients that has sunk into the mattress.
Kutner paused for a minute, before shrugging. "Well, I'm not going to lie to you. Hospitals can be scary places."
He nodded, "I don't like it here." But he just didn't have the energy to maintain the level of panic he had going on earlier. He just wanted to not hurt any more.
"It's not all that bad a place to be," Kutner said with a shrug. "I've worked in worse hospitals. Here -- the staff is pretty nice." He paused for a moment, before holding out the hand for Alec's arm again, asking silently but not pushing.
Alec bites him lip, obviously thinking about it, but at this point he wants to sleep and the hurt to stop more than anything else, and lets Kutner have his arm, though his other hand fists in the blanket tight enough to tear holes.
Kutner swabbed the spot quickly, before inserting the IV smoothly, and hanging the bag, getting ready to start the drip.
He made a small frightened kitten noise in the back of his throat was Kutner worked and it was all he could do to not yank it right back out. He closed his eyes. At least Kutner hadn't lied. It really hadn't hurt.
Once he was finished hanging the bag, he turned back to Alec with a small smile. "Just get comfortable, okay? I'll be back in a little while, and Dean and Sam are right here with you."
Alec huddled into his blankets and tried to control the shaking. He heard Kutner leave and when the new meds failed to knock him out with in the first five minutes he spoke up. "Tell be something."
"What's up?" Sam asked, looking over at him.
"My heart rate?" He made another small unhappy noise as he seized. "Just. . .tell me anything. Don't care what."
Sam looked over at Dean, before Dean settled back in his seat and kicked his feet up on the edge of the bed. "So our dad had this storage unit out in Black Rock. He used to keep all these -- "
"Dude, you're telling him a Bela story?" Sam cut him off, arching an eyebrow.
"No, I'm telling him a 'Sam's an idiot' story," Dean said with a smirk, before leaning back. "Anyway -- Dad used to keep all these curse boxes there. They held jinxed objects that he couldn't destroy and needed to keep safe from people who would use them for bad reasons. So one day, we get a call saying that the place had been broken into. When we got there, one of the boxes had been taken, and we had to go out and track it down before people started ending up dead."
He nodded to show he was listening. And was also piling up questions. Not that he was sure he'd remember them later as he was finally starting to feel pretty foggy.
"So. We go and track down the idiots who stole it, and we found out that it was this rabbit foot," Dean continued. "If you touch it, you own it. If you own it, you have a pretty fantastic run of luck. If you lose it -- which you always do -- luck turns sour, and you're dead within a week. Well, guess who was the idiot who touched it?"
"Bean Pole." The smile was only a ghost, and his voice was half asleep despite the constant twitching and jerking. Soon he figured he'd drop off.
"Yup," Dean smirked. "Now for a while, we had a great run of luck -- were up about fifteen grand in the lottery, got some free food, all well and good. Then this bitch showed up, managed to lift the foot off Sam without him knowing it, and it all went downhill from there. Sam pretty much turned into a walking accident -- he lost shoes, set air conditioners on fire, tripped over everything -- it wasn't pretty."
"And it wasn't my fault," Sam pouted. "She was -- distracting."
"She was hot, but she wasn't that distracting."
Sam shook his head before rolling his eyes. "Whatever. I thought I would have felt her reaching into my pocket and I didn't. She was good."
"Not that good." He gave them a slightly woozy grin. "Not if her hand was that," he had to pause, to wait a spasm out. "That close to your dick, and you didn't notice."
That got Sam to blush a bit. "She had just spilled the coffee she was pouring me. I wasn't really -- thinking about that at the moment, alright? And it wasn't even that pocket. The foot was in my jacket."
Dean just grinned. "Whatever you say, Sammy."
Alec was feeling drugged enough to cut Sam some slack. "Hot coffee. No fun." But he still smirked. And if he pressed his nose to the blankets all he could smell was detergent. Not so bad.
"Anyway," Dean sighed. "So once we lost the foot, Sam pretty much became a walking disaster, and I had to almost tie him to a chair to make sure he didn't get himself killed. I went back to Queens, had some words with the bitch in question, got the food back, and arrived just in time to save the damsel in distress from the people who wanted him dead. And I was a total badass as I did it."
He considered. "You badass 'cause you had the foot?" Drugged yes, slow? No. And an equal opportunity smart ass.
"I was a badass because I tossed a pen right into the barrel of a gun, and took out a goon with a remote control. I was friggin' Batman."
"Batman?"
Dean paused for a minute, before shaking his head. "Keep forgetting you don't know pop culture. That's another one we have to rent."
"There a pop culture quick guide?" He curled his fingers around the edge of the mattress.
Sam shrugged. "Might be something on the internet. But some things you still have to learn for yourself."
He pouts. "How long you think it takes this stuff?" Meaning the medication.
Dean frowned. "I dunno. It's still not working?"
He shook his head. "Feel woozy, but still awake."
"Did they make you feel woozy before? Or did they just not work at all?"
"Made me feel like I was wrapped in cotton."
"Is that good or bad?"
"Haven't hit any one. So good?" He paused, "Feeling really honest. Not so good?"
He chuckled. "Honesty isn't always that bad a thing."
As he said that, the sliding door to the room opened, and Kutner and Hadley made their way back into the room. Kutner gave Alec a small smile, before pointing to the woman next to him. "Alec, this is Doctor Hadley. She's one of the other doctors on House's team."
Hadley gave him a small wave, keeping her hands in the pocket of her lab coat.
"Huh. Pretty." Yeah, really honest.
She smiled slightly at that before nodding. "Thank you. Kutner asked me to bring something in for you to pass the time if the meds still aren't working like they should."
Kutner gave him a grin, before holding up the Star Wars DVD boxes. "Episodes four, five and six. They're the good ones, so if you like 'em and you're still here, I'll grab one through three."
"Fiction right? Not up to learning." Because he'd been shown educational films before.
"Totally fiction," Kutner nodded, before handing the DVDs over to Dean. "They were made in the late seventies, early eighties too, so they're older."
"Older than me." That didn't bother him. It's not like he had anything to compare it to. Though all movies would be compared to these from now on. He shuffled around on the bed until he was facing the TV, not even pretending he had an ounce of coordination left.
Kutner nodded, before moving back to business. "House wants us to run some blood work and get a spinal tap."
He stopped moving, wholly, shakes and all for about five seconds. "Spinal tap?" It was more of a squeak than anything else. He wasn't asking what it was. He knew.
"We'll try to be as gentle as possible about it," Hadley nodded. "House also wants us to get some image studies done, but we'd thought we'd leave it up to you as to which one you wanted first."
"Doesn't matter." He huddled up as much as possible, and tried to tell himself he wasn't going to have hysterics. One could assume from his behavior he's most likely had this done before.
"I'm going to vote for the hard stuff first then," Hadley nodded. "We'll try to be as quick as we can, alright?"
He nodded. As if it wasn't terrifying. Not only were they going to have to touch him, they'd be at his back where he couldn't see them, and jabbing at his spine, which would hurt in a rather unique way. He waited to be told what to do and made it a point to burry his face in his blankets.
Kutner moved closer to him, and reached for the box of latex gloves. "Who would you rather do it? Me or Hadley?"
"You." It was muffled. Hadley may be hot but he still didn't want her touching him. He wanted to curl up with his siblings, he wanted someone to make him feel better, but things only seemed to be going down hill.
They moved through the tests as quickly as they could, and once it was over, Hadley took the samples to the lab while Kutner gave him a comforting smile. "I'm gonna hang another IV, and we'll be back as soon as we have some answers, okay?"
"Yeah. Sure." He palmed tears of his face and did his best to pretend that they'd never happened, but soldier or no, he was only 18, in an environment that was bother foreign and frightening. He was nearing the end of his rope.
Dean and Sam waited for the two doctors to disappear out the door, before Dean picked up the DVD box for Episode Four. "I think it's time for Star Wars."
"Sure you won’t shoot me?" He was pretty much dead serious.
"Positive," Dean said with a nod, before going to put the DVD in.
He inched closer to them, as close as he could get and still stay on the bed. The instructions to stay laying flat on his back after the spinal tap were utterly ignored. "Yeah. Okay." He didn't have it in him to argue any more, so he just watched the movie and tried not to sniffle like a three year old.
Dean and Sam both kicked back on the bed, and settled in to watch. They both kept an eye on Alec out of the corner of their eye, just checking to make sure nothing bad happened.
Alec crept closer and close to them until he had silently settled between them, curled up. If he had been in Manticore he would have snuck onto CeCe or Biggs' bunk by now. But this would do. If they wouldn't shoot him then they had to take care of him.
Which they didn't mind doing. Dean shifted closer subconsciously, used to Sam curling up closer to him when he was injured, so it was almost instinct. Sam just watched the two of them, staying close and paying attention to the movie.
Alec eventually settled when he had his back pressed to Dean's thigh and his shins to Sam's. He tried really hard not to kick Sam accidentally and to enjoy the movie. He approved of Han.
Dean glanced at his brother about halfway through the movie over the kid's head. Sam smirked slightly, before shrugging. This was the most Alec had let them touch him since they'd gotten him, and they weren't complaining too much. They were just happy that he was finally starting to trust them a bit.
"I want to sleep. I shouldn't need to, but I want to." He liked how he was warmer between them and could smell the hospital less, more gunpowder and leather than anything else.
Dean moved down to look at him, tilting his head to the side slightly. "And you can't get to sleep on your own?"
He shook his head. "Can't. Been trying."
"Well, hopefully they'll have something soon," Dean sighed. "Maybe the sooner they fix it, the sooner you'll get to sleep."
"Thought this was supposed to help." He tugs at the IV tubing. Then looks like he's seriously considering yanking it out. Because when he thinks about it directly it creeps him out. A lot.
"The anti-convulsants were supposed to work too," Sam replied. "Something doesn't seem to be working."
He nods and swallows. "What I get for leaving." He starts to determinedly pick at the tape, though it hard when his hands are already shaking.
Sam reached forward and took his hand gently, trying to get him to stop picking at the tape. "Look, you said you had them before, right? And that place you were in -- they found a way to stop them. So eventually, these doctors are going to find them too. Only a matter of time."
He lets Sam. "Was only seven. Don't know what they did. Just want it stop." He sniffles and wipes at his face with his free hand.
"We know," Dean said with a nod. "And they're working on it. But you gotta trust them a little, alright? These things don't happen over night."
"'Kay." Because he doesn't have a choice. He knows he couldn't even stand up on his own right now, let along find his boots to leave. He had a grip on himself again. At least for a little while.
The Winchesters just settled in to watch the movies, only getting up when they had to switch out the DVDs, but a few hours later, House pushed open the door, looking over that them with a heavy sigh. It took him a minute to hobble his way in, and he had a cup of pills in his hand.
"My staff and I are morons." He rarely ever included himself in the category of morons, but in this situation, he felt like one.
"Is there anything we can say to that?" At the moment Alec felt that he had a reasonably firm grip on his emotions.
"Do we get to know why, at least?" Sam followed, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, I could also blame you for not mentioning that he's special -- in the genetically engineered kind of way," House said with a sigh. "But I figured that isn't exactly something you want to broadcast to a crowded ER."
Alec stiffened. Then shrank in on himself. "What are you going to do?" He was clearly afraid of the answer.
"I'm not sending you back." House glanced over the three of them for a moment. "I've heard of Manticore. I may be unethical but I'm not completely amoral. And I won't say anything either." He held out the cup of pills before continuing. "I adjusted the dosage to work better -- they should have worked before, but since Kutner didn't know about your souped up metabolism, he didn't realize that he needed a higher dose."
"That's it?" He reached for the pills.
"That's it," House nodded.
He sits up enough to swallow them without choking. "So why the hell can't I sleep?" He lays back down, because it's going to take a while for the meds to kick in. "How'd you know?"
"Seizures are likely caused by a deficiency of serotonin. You need serotonin to sleep, and the smaller does that you had weren't helping, so you couldn't sleep," House sighed. "As for how I knew -- your test results were chalk full of bonus stem cells. That's not exactly normal."
"Why are you an idiot?" That part he couldn't figure out.
"Because I should have figured it out sooner," House sighed. "The patchy memories, no medical history, the drugs not working the way they should. I'm surprised I didn't see the barcode. I didn't even realize it was there until Kutner mentioned it."
Alec put a hand up to cover it. He wasn't sure if Sam and Dean had even noticed it. It wasn't like he just showed it to people.
Sam had seen it when he was cutting out the tracker, but hadn't said anything. Dean hadn't noticed so much, but they both raised an eye and how much House knew about how Alec worked.
House just shrugged. "As I said, your secret's safe with me. I want to keep you for a couple more hours to make sure that the meds are working, and then we'll cut you loose. Just don't forget to pick up the prescription on the way out."
"'Kay. You work for them? Before. 'cause I don't recognize you." Or more accurately his scent.
"They tried," House shrugged. "I turned them down. Aimless torture isn't really my idea of a good time."
"No manual for us. Gotta learn somehow." It was a knee jerk reaction. That same instinct that told him to walk back to hell when Sam and Dean had first stolen him.
House tilted his head to the side slightly, before shaking his head. "There's always ways other than cutting open defenseless kids. Plus, the military kind of makes me want to vomit."
"I was never a kid. Just young. And I haven't been defenseless since I was five. Pretty much dangerous as hell since I was six." He didn't deny that they'd, that he'd, been cut open and experimented on though. Alec more than most. He was a fuck up with a crazy twin, or possibly a sane twin, he hardly knew any more. Expendable. That was the truth.
It was also why he had such a bone deep fear of doctors. He appreciated more than words that Kutner and House kept their distance. It was major points in their favor.
"Dangerous as hell physically, sure. Not mentally. You were conditioned not to fight back, and when you did, you were probably punished pretty severely for it. That's pretty much the definition of defenseless."
Which was true here as well. He may have tried to get away, but he had never lashed out. And if someone gave him an order he obeyed. He'd buck almost anyone. But not a doctor. Hell, he never even asked what medication he was being given. And he'd questioned everything at Mama's. He didn't say anything, just looked away from House.
House tapped his cane floor on the floor a few times, before looking up at him again and responding. "If there are any other problems, page us. Otherwise, we'll come back to release you in a few hours."
"Thanks." Because, comparatively the really hadn't hurt him. Because they'd treated him like he had feelings both physical and emotional, and he didn't want to alienate that.
"You're welcome," House said with a nod, before turning and heading out the door again.
Alec wasn't really sure that there was anything he could or should say so he just let things lapse into silence, tried to ignore the shakes which should go away soon, and watch the movie.
Dean and Sam glanced at each other for a moment, both looking a bit concerned. Dean paused, before looking down at him again. "You okay?"
"He said I would be. He said the shakes would stop." They had heard that too, right?
"Not what I meant, dude," Dean replied.
Alec shifted to look up at him, confusions written clearly on his face. "What did you mean then?"
"You know -- emotionally," Dean said awkwardly, not really sure how to explain it. "Your head on okay?"
Alec blinked at him and clearly put thought into his answer. "I don't know about the first." There were a lot of emotions there and he wasn't quite sure how to sort them out or shut them up yet. "But for the second I'm good for what ever you need me to do."
Dean looked up at Sam again, and the other man paused for a minute before turning back to Alec. "Look, if you ever want to talk about something -- you can come to us, alright? We don't mind listening."
"I wouldn't even know what to talk about. I don't know what's normal and what isn't. What's okay and what isn't." He's quiet for a minute. "I think I'm always going to get things wrong."
"Well, it's okay if you do," Sam said with a shrug. "Just -- talk to us if you need to. We can take it. We've seen a hell of a lot."
He took a minute to think about that. To turn it over and compare it to his previous facts. It was easier as the shaking eased off a little. "Why did you steal me? I mean, what the hell were you thinking when you looked over at me and decided to take me with you?" He was getting longer sentences out again to. For which he was grateful.
"Dean doesn't think often," Sam joked with a smirk, and Dean shot his brother a look before responding.
"I thought you needed help," Dean shrugged. "We tend to help people. I mean -- they did something to you, we didn't know what, and we had a feeling it was all our fault. I figured that since we had at least put you in the bad situation to begin with, the least we could do was get you out of it."
"But I looked bad enough to you that you thought you should do something?" He knew the answer would be yes. He knew enough about them at this point to predict a little. "That. . . that wasn't that bad. It really wasn't. Just. . . " He paused to look for the right words. "It was just a warm up."
"That was just warming up?" Dean's eyebrows shot into his hairline. "That's not exactly making me doubt my decision any."
"Didn't think it would. Just saying that you've seen a lot but still. . . you thought the easy stuff was the bad stuff."
Dean paused for a minute, before his hands dropped to his fingers. "Well, the easy stuff was bad stuff. And don't discount what I've seen all that quickly. Some of the stuff that I've been through -- turns a person into something else. I've been through Hell -- literally, and someone was kind enough to pull me out and put me back here. So I figure if they can do that for me, I might as well pay it forward."
"Hell is real?" He looked at his own hands. "I want to play with that piano again. I can almost remember and I want to play with that piano again."
Dean glanced over at Sam, and Sam started to slide off the bed. "I'll go see what House says. He said he'd let you play again, so -- shouldn't be a problem."
"You don't have to go if you don't want." They'd already done more for him than he could expect. More than he had a right to expect. "I can wait."
"No, it's fine," Sam said with a shrug. "I need to stretch my legs anyway." With that he disappeared out the door and headed down the hallway, while Dean nudged him to move over a bit, so they could both fit on the bed.
Alec did move, with much more ease than he had been for at least the last 24 hours. "Legs don't need to be stretched and farther. He's already freakishly tall." It was mostly a mutter though.
Dean chuckled softly, shaking his head. Then he paused and rubbed his hands lightly. "Hell is real, to answer your earlier question."
He was quiet for a long minute. "I bet it's different for every person." It wasn't that he thought Dean was being metaphorical. Dean wasn't using that kind of tone. He was using the tone that said 'this is the truth' like he had when telling Alec about ghosts. But something as awful as Hell had to be flexible, right? To really get the right amount of horror for each person.
"You're probably right," Dean said with a nod. "But me -- they wanted something from me. So I got the extra special torture chamber with the guy who actually liked to stick around in the Pit because he got to torture people. It wasn't exactly the best thirty years of my life."
"It's worse when they enjoy it." He picked at the tape holding the IV down and then at one of his few scars. "One of them told me not to make noise because it was annoying." Maybe He and Dean were sort of coming from the same place. At least a little. "So I didn't." He looked up at Dean. "Did they get what they wanted?"
"Yeah," Dean said with a nod. "They did. And when I got pulled out, I had to stop them from finishing the job that I had unintentionally started."
"Forced to clean up your own mess even when it isn't you fault."
"Something like that. It's kind of complicated. If you ever meet Cas, I'll fill in the rest of the story. But at the end of the day I got it done. And things got better."
"I. . .think I'm bad at cleaning up my messes."
"Nobody's good at cleaning up their messes. I didn't even clean up that mess particularly well -- we lost a lot of people that year. I almost lost Sam." It seemed like so long ago now -- he almost couldn't believe that that had actually happened to him.
"And now you're cleaning up the mess I got myself into." There's another one of his pauses. "I'm supposed to be competent." Then almost out of nowhere. "Why are you telling me this?" His tone suggests he's just trying to understand.
"I have no idea," Dean admitted. "I just -- I guess I need to let you know that I know how bad some shit can get. I've been through the worse. If you want to talk -- I can listen."
He nodded and stayed quiet for a long minute. "I don't mind listening to." He stares down at his hands that don't have a mark on them, not even calloused for handling weapons, and then at Dean's, with all the little marks of living. "I can heal from almost anything. I hate it."
"Hate it?" Dean rose an eyebrow. "Why?"
He holds his left arm out so Dean can see it. Completely unmark and unscarred aside from a thin strip of shiny burn scar along the inside of the elbow. No reason to notice unless it's pointed out. "You know what a fifth degree burn is?"
He frowned for a moment. "Didn't know they went that high."
"That's when it's so deep there's bone damage. Most people don't live through it."
"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered. "How'd you manage one of those?"
"They wanted to see if we'd heal from it." He flexed his hand and wrist. "I did. But if any one ever tells you burns don't hurt past the surface, tell them they're wrong." He let his arm drop. "And I mean, not that I'm not glad to still have my arm, but . . .shouldn't I have more to show for that than one tiny little mark that no one even sees unless I point it out?" He bit his lip. "Anna was talking about how being numbered had a dehumanizing effect. That's not what keeps us from being people." He spread his hand out again. "This does. Nothing ever leaves any marks. We don't show the damage, so nothing curbs it."
"Damn," Dean shook his head slightly. "The only time I've been through something that bad was down there. Hearing that it was done up here? On people who could die from something like that? That's disgusting."
"I wouldn't have died." He would have been spare parts, which is worse. "I just. . . don't like doctors."
"I don't blame you," Dean nodded. "But not all of them are like the douchebags that took you apart. Especially not guys like Kutner. He just genuinely likes helping people."
"He didn't touch me when I asked him not to." He says it like the man should get a Nobel Peace prize. "House either."
"Most people on the outside don't and won't," Dean nodded. "Most people will treat you like a person."
"I'm not sure I know how to be one. I can do cat better than I can do person I think." He yawned as if to illustrate.
"You'll figure out as you go. If not, you'll just be a weird guy. Since me and Sam are weirdos on top of that -- you'll fit in just fine."
". . .I think that's the first pep talk I've ever been given."
Dean laughed as Sam came back into the room. "Yeah, well -- that's me. Always good for the pep talk."
"I might need one once a week. Just to see if you can keep it up." He tries to push himself into a sitting position as Sam comes in. The seizures have mostly stopped but he feels like a wet noodle. And about as wobbly.
Sam gave them a small smile, before jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "House said you could have free reign of the piano. So whenever you want to head up, it's cool."
"Now. Before I loose, what ever this is." He pulled him up by pure determination.
Dean pushed himself off the bed before reaching for the wheelchair and wheeling it back over to him, so that he didn't have to go very far.
Alec sneers at the thing, like its an insult to his dignity. But sits anyway. Because falling over would mar that dignity further.
Sam just grinned, before letting Dean wheel him out of the room and back to the doctor's lounge. They arrived there a few minutes later, Dean bringing him to a stop right next to the piano bench.
Alec moves onto the bench, wincing. He is sore everywhere. More than sore really. "I think I want to roll in painkillers later." There's a pause. "I can have pain killers, right?" More asking permission than anything else.
"Yeah," Sam nodded. "I think that was on the scrip too."
"Awesome." He sets his hands on the keys. "I could totally suck. I mean. . .I could know nothing."
"Dude, do we look like we know good piano playing?" Dean replied, plopping down on the couch.
"Everyone knows when someone sucks." But the feel of the keys was so hauntingly familiar. He closed his eyes and again got the cotton wrapped memory of a baby grand in an airy room. He ran his fingers back and forth, not pressing anything and the piano was now in a room at Manticore. He shook his head a pressed down. His fingers knew what they were doing even if the rest of him was lost.
Dean and Sam just settled in to listen for a while, letting him figure out what he needed to figure out.
He played, entirely classical and caught little glimpses. And office, a grand spiral stair case, his own reflection in glasses. Little bits and pieces as he cycled through the music, sometimes finishing a piece, sometimes not.
The Winchesters were quiet through most of it, but listened appreciatively, not making a comment or face either way.
Every now and then he saw a soft mischievous smile. That was what he's been searching for. He tried to chase the memory. Tried to find the music that matched it. He ended up playing something distinctly non classical.
The Peanuts theme in fact. Which ended suddenly and violently when his hands slammed down on the keys with a loud angry rattle and stopped. There was a locket and an explosion and his head hurt.
Dean and Sam both looked up at the loud clash of keys, and were concerned. "Alec?" Sam said softly, starting to push himself off and make his way over. "You alright?"
"I. . .I think they killed her." He didn't look up.
"Killed who?" Sam asked gently, Dean letting him take this one.
"Don't know." He shook his head hard. "She had a gold locket. Smelled like cinnamon."
"She was someone close to you?"
"I can't remember." And it clearly frustrated him. His hands shook again, but it was more from upset and exhaustion than the seizures returning.
"Just take it easy," Sam said, placing a hand on his shoulder gently. "It'll come back to you. Sometimes things take more time than other."
"Sometimes they never come back." He leans forward until the top of his head rests against the piano, though he wasn't pulling away from Sam's hand. He was just tired.
Dean looked over at him for a minute. "Maybe we should head back to the room. See if you can get some sleep."
"Maybe." He was officially out of energy.
Dean pushed himself to his feet and started to move the wheelchair back over from behind him.
Alec didn't bother arguing this time. He just silently complied, because Dean was right. He wanted to sleep.
Dean wheeled him around and started the trek back to the room, not stopping until they were inside by the bed.
Alec crawled from one to the other without a word, yawned, stretched, curled up and fell asleep.