Hi everyone! Well it's been quite some time since I wrote a Huddy fic, and truthfully I wasn't even sure if I was ever going to post this story, but I can't seem to let go of this idea inside of my head. As many of you who follow me on twitter know my life is somewhat hectic these days, but I'm going to try and post a chapter once a week if I can. Anyway, I do not own House & Cuddy, but that doesn't stop me from playing with them now and then :P Now onto the fic...told in Cuddy's POV.
Gravity
Chapter 1
It was such a sweet summer day in Cedar Falls, Pennsylvania. The crystal blue skies, spotted here and there with billowy white clouds. The perfect day for a picnic in the backyard with my daughter Rachel, the two of us, talking and laughing together on a bright red blanket under the brilliant summer sun.
"Mommy, can we watch Beauty and the Beast tonight?" Rachel asks before taking a bite of her sandwich.
"Sure honey." I reply, tucking a stray dark hair that had fallen across her face back behind her left ear.
Looking into her dark blue eyes, I'm amazed at how much Rachel has grown over these past two years. My little toddler, now a little girl about to enter kindergarten in the fall.
From beside me on the blanket, my cell phone begins to ring. Looking down at the caller ID, an uneasy feeling rises up from the pit of my stomach.
"Mommy..your phone's ringing?" Rachel informs me, knowing full well her mother is usually very prompt in answering her calls.
"I know sweetie."
I reached for the phone and answer it.
"Hi David."
David Johnson is one of the board members at Princeton Plainsboro Hospital, and a call from him can only mean one thing, that the man I had left in the past was now coming back to haunt me once more.
"Lisa, I'm glad I caught you. Listen, I know you've moved on from the mess here, but I thought you should know, there was a warehouse fire in downtown Princeton a few days ago. And, well...House was trapped inside of the building. I really don't..."
"Is he ok?" I cut in, not willing to wait any longer for an answer as David is obviously stumbling over the right way to tell me what he knows.
"Lisa, House is dead. I just found out this morning and thought you should know."
I feel my stomach begin to churn. My throat tighten as the vision of Gregory House comes rushing back into my memory.
"Mommy? Are you ok?" Rachel asked from beside me.
""I'm fine honey." I lie to her, while giving her a fake smile of reassurance.
############################################################################################
It's ten pm later that same night when I call Foreman's cellphone. My nerves are still raw from the news that had been delivered to me earlier in the day, my mind still hanging onto the suspicion it had birthed soon after I had hung up the phone with David Johnson.
"Cuddy?"
"Just tell me the truth Foreman." I request while pacing the kitchen floor with my cell phone pressed up against my left ear.
There was a pause on the other end of the line, which of course only helps to confirm my suspicions all the more.
"So you heard about the fire?" He asks.
"Yes, now tell me the truth."
My request to him is once more short and to the point, as saying anymore would bring up the old feelings better left undisturbed in their graves.
"He's still alive, Cuddy." Foreman finally confesses with a sigh.
Before I realize it, a sigh of relief escapes my mouth. I clamp my mouth shut, hoping like hell Foreman hasn't heard it as anymore tiptoeing into the past is the last thing I want to happen during our conversation.
"I assume he's with Wilson now." I ask a second later, keeping my voice professional and even toned.
"You know about, Wilson?" Foreman asks back with surprise.
"Apparently some of the board members at the hospital still feel the need to fill me in on such things. Although in Wilson's case, I'm glad I know about his cancer." I tell him.
"Have you contacted Wilson?"He asks with curiosity.
The conversation is now quickly steering towards my personal life, and I notice the way my top teeth are gnawing at my bottom lip.
"Listen Foreman, thanks for telling me the truth about House, but I really have to go."
"Cuddy, I know you still care about House." Foreman interrupts.
"I'm only glad he's not dead." I lie, before adding more to the conversation. "However once Wilson is gone, I"m not sure how alive House will be."
"You know Cuddy, you may actually end up finding out exactly how House is doing if he decides " Foreman begins to tell me.
"House won't come looking for me." I reply back quickly.
"How can you be so sure of that?" Foreman challenges back to me.
"Because, House no longer cares about being happy. And after Wilson dies, he'll find a way to die right along with him. Even if it's just a matter of him wallowing in his drug addiction and misery for the rest of his life."
This time, it is Foreman who lets out a sigh. "I guess you're right." He agrees, as the fate of his former boss is as cold and sad as the tear running down my cheek. Thank god Foreman can't see that over the phone.
#########################################################################################
Before I know it one year has passed since I first received the news of House's faked death. One year of the occasionally dreams of him still continuing to haunt me every now and then. One year of watching my daughter grow up even more as her dark brown hair is now falling down the middle of her back, her young mind becoming filled with questions and craving knowledge like a a dry sponge. It was during this past year that I also started sleeping with a man named Jake Henderson who's two years younger than me. He's very sweet to me and adores Rachel, and he also has the most genuine smile I've ever seen.. It also doesn't hurt that he's handsome as hell, with thick, blonde hair and piercing green eyes. Jake's son Ryan, is the same age as Rachel, the two of us actually meeting late last year during a celebration at Rachel's and Ryan's kindergarten. Jake is a widow, his wife becoming addicted to prescription Oxycontin when their son Ryan was just three. Jake has confided in me about how is late wife was never able to shake the hold the drug had on her, which had resulted in her neglecting their son while she stared off into space, numb to the world. Jake had tried everything to help her, but sadly no avail, and after six months of a living hell, his wife Allison overdosed and died.
Sex with Jake is good,he knows how to please me, and he knows when to give me my space. I guess I should be happy, but right now as I board my flight from Albany New York, bound for Pittsburgh Pennsylvania, I'm struck by the feeling of not really missing him that much during my week long trip. I tell myself it's because of my past with House, that even three years later, there's still a part of me that refuses to let any man into my heart all the way. As I take my seat inside the airplane however, I'm sure that a little more time with Jake will help me to overcome my fears.
Two and a half hours into my flight, my hands are gripping tightly onto the armrests of my seat as the plane has suddenly begun to shake violently, my eyes, staring straight ahead at the closed door of the cockpit.
The pilot had announced a view minutes ago that we would be experiencing some rough skies as the plane began to make its descent into Pittsburgh, however in all of my years of flying, this was by far the worst episode of turbulence I have ever experienced.
I feel the first inkling of fear start to creep up on me and I take in a deep breath while glancing over a the older gentleman sitting across the aisle from me in first class. His eyes are squeezed shut, his lips mumbling a silent prayer as a fine bead of sweat forms on his brow. His large hands, holding a white knuckled death grip on the armrests of his chair.
I look down at my own hands.
No white knuckles, at least not yet.
It's fine. It's just some turbulence. You're going to be fine. I tell myself just as the plane begins to shake violently again.
From back in coach I hear a high-pitched scream, my heart picking up its pace as visions of Rachel suddenly begin to flood my mind.
My baby, my sweet little girl ….if something would happen to me now. If the plane would end up crashing...…
No, I am not going to do this. I am not going to panic.
I clench my jaw and repeat those words over and over inside of my head. The mantra, bringing up the image of the last time I had panicked on an aircraft several years ago.
I had been on a flight back home with House after having attended a medical conference. The mystery disease of one of the passengers, which later on was found to simply be a case of a diver suffering from decompression sickness, had brought out the absolute worst in me. Of course House been there to see it all, a fact that still makes me cringe to this day. However, House had also been then to take care of me when I needed him them most, and had been as was as worried as I was that something was really wrong with me before he had figured out the passenger's symptoms.
But why couldn't he have been there for me later? After had gotten together and when it mattered the most to me, to us? Why did he have to take that damn Vicodin!
Something always brings me back to you. It never takes too long...
In an instant, the words to Sara Bareillles song begins to play inside of my head, The lyrics to that song, feeling as if they could have been plucked out from inside of my own aching heart.
Set me free. Leave me be. I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity..
Another jolt of turbulence rumbles through the plane, however..the second tremor is far less powerful than the one before it had been.
It wasn't just the memories of my romance with House that had felt me feeling so empty after its demise, but also the memories of working with him years before we had taken things to the next level. The memories of seeing his medical brilliance on full display, the thought of it, just as precious to me now as the moments of passion we had shared together.
Another small tremor of turbulence moved throughout the plane. However, this time it was as fleeting as the low murmur of thunder after a passing storm.
Closing my eyes, I think back to the first time House had told me that he loved me, feeling a warmth inside of my heart at how completely vulnerable he looked in that moment. Of how painfully scared he had been to say those words to me, but had said them just the same.
"How on earth could you smile during all of that? Are you some kind of thrill seeker or something?"
I open my eyes and find the older gentleman across the aisle staring at me with disbelief.
Taken off guard by his comment, I quickly clear my throat... as well as the memories of House from my mind.
"Let's just say I'm used to handling a lot of turbulence." I reply back to the man politely, even though the memory has in fact left an ache inside of my heart.
From above us both, the pilots voice fills the plane.
"Ok ladies and gentleman, we've been through the worst of the turbulence now and will be landing in Pittsburgh in approximately fifteen minutes."
#############################################################################################
Once inside the Pittsburgh International Airport, I make my way quickly through the crowd of people, heading straight to the escalator that will lead me to the baggage claim area. I begin to feel a dull ache in the back of my head, no doubt caused by the stress of the turbulence along with the memories of House that refused to give up their hold on me.
Regardless of the onset of the headache, I retrieve my bags in no time and make my way to the exit, glancing up at the flight information displayed on one of the large electronic boards above me.
Three flights leaving Pittsburgh have already been canceled because of the approaching snow storm, but thankfully this is my last stop.
Exiting the airport, I wrap the gray scarf resting on my shoulders around my neck, the skin on my face being met by a sharp, bitter wind that nips fiercely at my nose and cheeks.
Looking up at the dark gray sky above me, I hope I'll be able to make it home before the full force of the winter storm sets in.
##########################################################################################
After leaving the airport and taking the seventh exit on the interstate, I'm now traveling on a two lane road, the same road that will take me up two tall large mountains before I turn onto the road that leads to my house.
There's already two inches of snow on the ground as I listen intently to the weatherman on the radio, the inside of my Jeep Grand Cherokee, toasty warm compared to the frigid air just outside my door.
"Well folks it's only a matter of time now before the biggest winter storm of the decade comes bearing down on us. Authorities are advising that all residents stay off the roads for the next several hours until we know exactly what we're dealing with, but I can tell you from our latest Doppler report it looks like we'll get anywhere from 10 inches to two feet of snow before this storm is finished with us."
I feel the anxiety start to rise inside of me and grip the steering wheel a little tighter, still hoping to outrun the winter storm and make it home.
A moment later however, I feel my heart sinking into my chest as the slow moving traffic in front of me suddenly comes to a complete stop.
"Come on." I mutter under my breath, trying to peer around the red truck in front of me. But it's of no use as the swirling snow has made my visibility past a few feet utterly impossible.
With my eyes glued on the blanket of white snow before me, I watch as the figure of a man comes into view. He's tall and with the muscular body of a linebacker, his head hung low and covered by the hood of his dark blue jacket. His face, unable to be seen by me as he's turned his head to one side in an effort to dodge the bitter wind.
I continue to watch the man as he stops at the truck in front of me, the driver of the truck rolling down the window to talk to him for a few brief seconds before the window of the truck rolls back up and the man turns towards me. I get a better look at him now and realize he's a state trooper, his gun, holster on his side. I roll down my own window just as he reaches my vehicle, the icy wind, running its fingers through my hair and down the back of my neck, causing me to shiver.
"I'm sorry Ma'am, but you're gonna have to turn around. This road is being closed because of the storm." He half yells over to me in order to be heard above the raging wind.
"But officer, my house is only a half hour away." I plead to him, hoping the look of desperation on my face would be enough to persuade him into letting me pass.
"I'm sorry Ma'am, but my orders are to only let essential personnel through at this time. The mountains ahead are going to be pummeled with snow and we don't want anyone getting trapped up there unnecessarily." He tells me, unmoved by the urgency in my voice.
"But my daughter…she's six and …."
"I'm assuming your daughter is with someone who can watch her until the storm is over ?" The trooper interrupts.
I let out a sigh. "Yes she's with my Nanny." I confess to him, surprised when I see a look of sympathy wash over his face.
"Listen, I know it's hard for you to be away from your daughter. My wife just had our son two months ago, and I hate like hell to be away from them both. However, the best thing you can do for your daughter right now is to head back to Milford before the storm gets any worse. There's two hotels there that are going to be filling up quickly, so if you leave now, you should have a good chance at getting a room. If all else fails though, the local middle school and high school are being prepped to take in people until this thing blows over."
I reluctantly nod in agreement, watching as the truck in front of me carefully turns around, following the other line of cars headed back towards the small town we had all just passed through a few minutes ago.
#############################################################################################
The usual thirty minute ride back to Milford has taken me a little over fifty minutes, thanks to the now heavy falling snow. My eyes, already burning from staring out at the blinding white flakes colliding with the windshield. A couple of times I've felt the Jeep losing traction in the snow, even though I had engaged the four wheel drive and in response I've had to ease off the gas as I kept my place behind the line of cars in front of me.
My head is now pounding, the space between my shoulder blades, ripe with a needling pain as the tension from driving the slippery roads, along with the knowledge that I will not be home tonight with Rachel weights heavily on my mind.
As I reach the edge of the small town I see the first of two motels come into view. The parking lot is already quite full, no doubt from other travelers who had been turned back by the state trooper. Pulling into the hotel parking lot, I hoped I'm not too late to get a room for the night.
"I'm sorry Ma'am, but we're all booked up." The man at the front desk tells me just as I reach him.
"I swear to god if one more person calls me Ma'am today." I muttered under my breath with disgust, feeling pain in my head increase as my luck continues to get worse.
"Again...I'm really sorry, but because of all the flight cancellations and the roads closing we've had more people traveling this road than normal." The man explains to me after hearing my frustrated reply.
I quickly compose myself. It's not his fault the sky decided to open up and vomit a winter wonderland onto the tri-state area.
"Of course, I understand. Do you know if the Holiday Inn on the other side town has any rooms left?" I ask, hopeful that I will get some good news for a change.
The clerk shakes his head at me. "I'm sorry, but they're booked solid too. Your best bet at this point it to try the local high school. I can give you the directions if you'd like? "
Five minutes later, I'm walking out into the snow storm again, the directions to the high school shoved in the front pocket of my coat as I head towards my vehicle in the parking lot. A strong icy wind slaps me in the face, causing me to turn my head over in the direction of the small diner located next to the hotel.
It is in that moment that the front door to the diner swings open and a man walks out.
I freeze, not from the wind, but rather from the sight of him.
It can't be. I tell myself, my eyes unable to look away.
It just can't be.
He's not using his cane, but as sure as the now feverish beating heart inside of my chest, the man pulling up the collar on his black winter coat in order to shield himself from the winter wind is none other than Gregory House.
As if on cue, another strong wind sweeps through the parking lot, causing House to turn his head in my direction in order to avoid the arctic like air.
I watch as his mouth hangs open for moment as if he intends to speak, his eyes wide with surprise as the shock of seeing me again sets in.
In a split second I'm turning away from him so fast I nearly lose my footing in the freshly fallen snow.
"Cuddy!" His voice chases after me along with the bitter wind.
I start to walk faster, not looking back, not daring to stop, my eyes zoomed in like lasers on the Jeep located in the last row of the hotel parking lot.
I'm not ready for this. Even though it has been three years, even though I had indeed prepared myself to see him again one day, I'm still struggling with hating him for what he had done to me, to us, and loving him for his medical brilliance and ability to see into my heart like no other man before.
"Dammit, Cuddy! Wait!"
I don't hesitate in the least, my left thumb fumbling to press the unlock button on the Jeep, my throbbing head now buzzing with confusion as it tries to make sense of what it has just seen.
"Cuddy, stop. I need to -"
The voice that has haunted me for over three years is now right behind me, the touch of his hand on my arm, sending a shiver up my spine that has nothing to do with the winter air swirling around us.
I spin around in a flash at the contact, my breath catching in my throat as his looks down at me, tall and impossibly real.
"Leave me alone!" I yell up at him and above the raging wind, shoving him hard enough that he has to adjust his balance in order to avoid falling over into a small drift of snow beside us both.
The anger over what he had done to me, to my house, to my heart, to all that we had together comes rising up from inside of me, hot and unrelenting, a ball of fire surrounded by the frozen air trapping us both. I hear it in my breathing, I feel it in the way my fists are now clenched at my sides.
I watch House as he stares down at me blankly for a moment, no doubt taken off guard by the physical response he had received from me.
"Just ...just stay away from me, House!" I warn while taking a step back from him.
"Cuddy, please." House begs, however keeping his distance from me as I'm sure he's not ready to find out what taking a step closer to me will bring.
"Go away, House." I warn again.
"Cuddy….I'm sorry. He whispers down to me as the wind moves violently between us.
"Sorry will never be enough House...not anymore. Now leave." I reply, watching as his blue eyes carefully study my face.
"You weren't surprised to see me just now, were you? I mean you were shocked, but not surprised that I was actually alive instead of six feet under. Which I'm sure was what you were told by one of those still brown nosing board members at the hospital." He comments over to me, his voice now more sure of itself.
I turn my head away from him, shaking it in disbelief. Of course he would take this route with me, a quick diversion from the obvious fact that he had nearly killed me, my sister and the other guests at my house nearly three years ago.
"Foreman told me the truth about your faked death. Now you can leave." I inform him dryly before turning towards around to the Jeep and unlocking it.
"Cuddy please, we need to talk. Just give me twenty minutes of your time and you won't ever see me again. I promise." He requests from behind me.
I close my eyes. It was certifiable to even think about talking to him, to even think about being in his presence any longer than I had been just now.
"Fine, you've got twenty minutes." I say, turning around to face him once more and seeing his hands shoved deep inside of the pockets of his coat, his teeth nearly chattering over the bitter wind. I tell myself it's only because I need to know why he's not using his cane any longer, even if my heart is already protesting the idea from deep inside of my chest.