As she reached up to his face Cuddy's fingertips passed over House's carotid artery and she felt his pulse racing. His respirations were rapid, almost hyperventilation. He dropped his cane. He reached out and put his hand on her shoulder as much to confirm that she was really there as to steady himself. Her expression no longer held any hint of anger, only deep concern. He looked at her, but not at her. He closed his eyes. His breaths became jagged, "No," he drew in a shuddering breath, "I'm not OK." He was shaking. She thought he might collapse.
With his eyes still closed and her hand gently cradling the side of his face, he leaned towards her instinctively. Just as instinctively she reached around him in a comforting embrace. The back of his jacket was damp with perspiration. She could feel his heart frantically beating like a frightened bird trapped in a cage. Her caring gesture pushed him off the emotional ledge. The jagged breaths tore open into unhinged sobs.
The unusually open display of emotion and vulnerability from a man who was a master at masking what he truly felt sliced right through her, at least temporarily cutting out any remaining anger she felt for his frustratingly boorish behavior. She held onto him tightly, supporting his 6'2" frame as he struggled to regain control. Empathetic tears spilled down her face. He allowed himself the comfort of her hug. She softly spoke in a soothing tone, "House, hey, shh, tell me what's wrong." Concerned that he might pass out, she broke the embrace, stepped to his side with her arm around him and ushered him towards the sofa across the room.
Seated on the sofa he leaned forward and covered his face with his hands. He couldn't stop shaking. She grabbed the chenille throw from the back of the sofa and wrapped it around his shoulders. She sat next to him, rubbing his back in an effort to help him calm the shivering.
Someone knocked on her office door. "Not now." she called out.
"Dr. Cuddy, Dr. Foreman is looking for Dr. House..." a familiar voice said loudly from the other side of the door. Cuddy recognized the voice as one of the clinic nurses, Lois Montefiore, a particularly nosy woman who disliked House.
Cuddy wiped the tears from her own cheeks and went to the door. She opened it just slightly, and whispered in an almost hostile tone, "Tell Dr. Foreman that Dr. House is suspended." The nurse started to launch into a diatribe against House for his inappropriate announcement in the lobby, but Cuddy cut her off abruptly, "Lois, please inform Dr. Foreman that he can page me if he needs a consult for the patient." And then she promptly shut the door.
House was still in a state of stunned shock. He didn't notice the knocking or the nurse at the door. He didn't want to keep his eyes open for fear that he and Cuddy would no longer be alone in the room.
Cuddy returned to her seat next to him on the sofa, and was relieved that he was no longer violently shivering and his breathing had returned to a more normal pattern. He cleared his throat and sat back without bothering to wipe away the tears. Red-rimmed his eyes looked even more startlingly blue. He took a deep breath.
She leaned forward, her chin resting in her left hand. Her big grey eyes implored him to talk to her.
"I'm having hallucinations... and delusions apparently." he said it so quietly that she barely heard him, but it struck her like a sledge hammer. She reached out and took his hand, which he let her grasp without protesting or attempting to withdraw it. "I... I didn't know... about the delusions." he added haltingly. He glanced at her horrified and embarrassed.
She squeezed his hand reassuringly. "The Vicodin?"
He nodded. "So far nothing else fits."
"Wilson knows?"
House nodded. "...about the hallucinations."
She sighed deeply. "Let's go talk to Wilson. We'll help you decide what to do."
He nodded. At that moment he would have agreed to whatever she suggested. He was completely defenseless. She could have crushed him like a bug. And with everything he put her through, he probably deserved it.
Instead she squeezed his hand tighter and said earnestly, "You'll be OK." He swallowed hard against the knot in his throat. She released his hand, stood up and went back across the room to retrieve his cane.
Amber sat next to him on the sofa watching Cuddy pick up the cane. "You so do not deserve her. You do not deserve anyone."
Kutner sat in the chair next to the sofa and leaned forward towards House. Looking directly at Amber he said, "She is still such a b___. Don't listen to her. This is real. Lisa Cuddy loves you. Look at her."
"Ready?" Cuddy handed him his cane.
He nodded and stood up. He wobbled a bit unsteadily as he navigated around the coffee table and she quickly put her hand under his elbow to help him catch his balance.
Kutner stood in the office doorway. "See?" he smiled a sad, gentle smile. "She won't let you fall. She never has."
House looked back at Cuddy who returned the gaze with an encouraging almost-smile. Over her shoulder he saw Amber sulking on the sofa. He turned and hobbled towards Kutner.
"You're forgetting something..." Amber called in a taunting, sing-song voice from the center of Cuddy's office where she stood barefoot practically on top of his prescription bottle.
Cuddy moved around House and opened the door, holding it for him. He turned back to look at the bottle of hydrocodone on the floor. Her brow creased, but just as she was about to say something he turned and walked out of her office.
Cuddy walked ahead of House. With a determined, self-assured glare she silenced the few people who appeared to be about to speak to them as they walked towards the elevators. House followed her silently, looking down at his feet the whole time. This time he was not just afraid, he was terrified.
Inside the elevator, alone with Cuddy, House clutched his cane, leaned against it, and continued to look at his feet. His leg was beginning to throb. He winced against the pain and shifted his weight more heavily to the other leg.
In her peripheral vision she watched his slow dance with the pain. She knew that whatever agony he had just put her through was truly minor in comparison to what he was about to experience. She also knew that he was well aware of the particular agony involved in opioid withdrawal. It was clear that he was frightened and she thought maybe that was a good thing. Maybe this time he would let them help him.