“Engh! Uh, uh, uh, uh, nu, uff--”
Wilson was already rolling of the bed as he woke to the sound of House’s distress. He slapped on the light and knelt next to the air mattress. House was curled up in a ball, up on his knees and elbows, whimpering and shaking. “It’s okay, House, it’s okay,” he said, patting him. “Can you wake up? It’s okay. You’ll feel better if you wake up.”
This wasn’t House’s first panic attack since he decided to stop the Ativan, but the others happened to have taken place on Clarence’s watch. This was the first time Wilson had had to see House like this, without reaching for the syringe. All he could do was wait and watch, patting House’s back and repeating soothing words--none of which seemed to have any effect.