Summary: As Lisa Cuddy looked at the tiny people cheering her and singing that "ding dong, the Wicked Witch Stacy is dead," she turned to the little obsequious black dog looking up at her, feeling a little surreal. She gave in to the urge. "I don't think we're in New Jersey anymore, Toto."
Author's note: With many thanks to Gundam Delta 6 and Hotaruchan2002 for all the encouragement, hand holding and listening to my rants. Gundam Delta 6 wrote the lyrics and Hotaruchan threatened (promised) us with whips and chains whenever we wandered off topic. When we came up with the idea during one of our chats, I thought it would be a cute and short little ditty. Boy, was I ever wrong.
Disclaimer: We do not own House MD and affiliated characters, they are the property of David Shore and Katie Jacobs. We do not own the Wizard of Oz, Tin Man, and other sources from which we derived our bastardized version of Oz, they are the property of Frank L. Baum, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, and RHI Entertainment respectively.
Chapter One
It was a sunny day outside Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, and presumably the sunny climes extended to the rest of New Jersey as well. Unfortunately for a number of people whose offices were of the indoors persuasion, they could not enjoy the afternoon sunshine free of work. One such unfortunate was Dr. Lisa Cuddy, Dean of Medicine at the aforementioned PPTH.
Indeed, Lisa Cuddy felt the allure of the warm sunny day and longed to be outside. She did settle upon a compromise, deciding to visit the clinic and tend her services. She rose from her desk, closing the file she had been perusing and made her way to the door. Pulling on her lab coat, she walked out, shutting the door behind her.
An afternoon in the clinic sounded like a grand idea. Instead, she bumped into Detective Tritter, an annoying wrinkle in her plan. She pasted on a smile, however, playing the role of a cooperative civilian. "Detective, what brings you by?"
Tritter smiled placidly back, "I just wanted to follow up, ask you some questions. How about we get some lunch?"
Lisa's stomach growled then, reminding her that she had only eaten a salad at her desk, and that had been several hours ago. She felt her smile get a little tight and she nodded to hide that fact. "Shall we to my cafeteria?"
Tritter smiled, "nothing would please me more, Dr. Cuddy."
Somehow, Lisa doubted that as she lead the way to the cafeteria, feeling like she was walking to certain doom. Lisa told herself not to be ridiculous. It was simply lunch.
Right?
Absolutely nothing to worry about. They had a rather pleasant lunch. Tritter had paid for their meals, playing the gallant. It did nothing to disarm Lisa whatsoever. She still maintained her guard, waiting for the dreaded sword of Damocles to fall.
When the impromptu lunch was over, Lisa had answered his questions, being vague with the appearance of being straight and to the point. Lisa was an academic, a politician and Dean of Medicine; she didn't get to that point on her good looks. She had honed and finely crafted her ability to negotiate, prevaricate and close deals which were of benefit to her.
She never outright lied, for that would be wrong, especially to an officer of the law, but she cast better light on certain views. It was in the best interests of the hospital. It was in the best interest of her brilliant doctor who solved more cases than would have by any other doctor, anywhere.
It was with a sense of relief that she went back into her office, confident that Tritter wouldn't find anything to help his investigation from her quarter. She sat at her desk, opening the file she had been looking at only to close it again when she began to feel odd. Euphoric, even.
She stood up too fast and the world swayed. She realized she was feeling vertigo. She laughed, before she could stop herself. This was wrong. She couldn't breathe. Nothing felt right. Something was terribly wrong. Her hand smacked the desk looking for something to write with. Marker, pen, something.
Vertigo, she managed to scribble across the closed file. She laughed again, her hand was so weak, she couldn't... muscle weakness. Her hand wasn't steady and it showed. She hoped House could read it. Hoped he would understand it. Hoped...
She mashed the phone key pad, trying to get something, anyone. Frustrated, but finding it so horribly amusing, she giggled as she stumbled to the door. Tears were falling down her face, ruining her make up.
Nurse Brenda, dear sweet, bitchy, Nurse Brenda Previn looked up and saw her. The other woman raced around the desk of the clinic and arrived just as Cuddy lost consciousness, with one last heaving gasp.
"I need a crash cart, stat!" was the last thing Lisa Cuddy heard before everything went black.