The Cracked Angel

Rating - Starts off T, ends with M

Pairing - Cuddy/Cameron

Takes place more towards the end of season 3, more so when Chase and Cameron briefly stop sleeping together.

My first House fic, so be nice :)

The time had just touched noon and Lisa Cuddy was on the move yet again. This just wasn't her day. With House giving her grief, on top of one of his patients having an ailment that no one could properly diagnose, her stress level was unusually high. She didn't usually interfere unless she had good reason, but when House and his team were at a loss, she had to step in as a last resort. The patient was admitted yesterday morning and as of eight am this morning, Cuddy made herself a part of the diagnostic team. She grabbed her lab coat from the stand and donned it for the second time that day. After that, she went to pull her hair back, but stopped when she managed to catch her reflection in the mirror as she turned. She liked her job and the respect that came with it, but on some days, like today, she wished she became a novelist or a painter instead. Time is really catching up with her. Instead of just bags under her gorgeous blues, her eyes seemed to be in the middle of individual giant red circles that no amount of makeup could cover up. Her eyes also looked much colder with being surrounded by tiny little red veins in the white areas. That must be from crying a while ago. Why had no one mentioned them to her? Especially House. He would be the first to point any malformations, no matter how small or pointless. Cuddy wasn't one to sprout tears at any given moment, in spite of her calm exterior. She usually cried when she was happy. Since she had nothing to be happy about at the moment, every person working in the hospital was probably busy trying to figure out why the great Cuddy was reducing herself to tears all day and avoiding everyone when the chance came up.

Now, her hair on the other hand, is matching her mood as well, for no amount of hairspray can hold it down! The stress-causing frizz ran through her beautiful raven hair, ruling its thumb in every strand. And it didn't end here. She also spilt coffee on her lap earlier today and had to go home to change, because it was very noticeable on her light red skirt and she had no clothes in the office. If that wasn't bad enough, House had a field day with the fact she spilt her coffee and rubbed her nose in it all morning until she was able to get a hold of a change of clothes. She had just returned now in a different set of black clothes, something she could hide stains on if necessary.

That son of a bitch, if he wasn't so good, she would have him out on his ass so fast, he wouldn't know what hit him. He gets on her last nerve every time he opens his mouth. Like she told Edward Vogler, she protects those who are assets to the hospital. House was a mere asset. She had no interest in him and at times wished she could find someone just as good so she could kick his ass out of her hospital.

Cuddy closed her eyes and shook her head after that last thought. That's not true. This place wouldn't be the same without House.

Speak of the devil. Here he comes now. Cuddy rolled her eyes and turned her back to the door with a heavy sigh. She almost made it out undetected.

"I just thought I'd come down and maim you for not making mine/your/our patient better yet. And by maim, I do mean verbally, of course," he said in his usual sarcastic tone and then brought his brows together. "Glad to see you're back and with a fresh pair of clothes. You do, however, still look like hell in the beauty department. Makeup might work with that problem."

"House, I'm really not in the mood for your mockery right now, okay? I'm tired and I don't need to justify myself to you." There were obvious tones of defeat in her voice, but House didn't get it. If he did, he didn't care. She tied her hair back finally and then grabbed a blue folder from her desk. When she went to leave her office to head back upstairs, House stood in the middle of both doors, making it impossible for her to get past.

"There's a big, comfy couch in my office we can share if you want to take a nap. I don't think Chase and Cameron will be using it any time soon. Guess their relationship didn't work out so well…or whatever you call meaningless kinky sex wherever, whenever, and on any surface you can think of," he said, not moving from the double doors.

"House, the only way I would share anything with you is if by some awful miracle, we were buried in the same cemetery plot," she said wryly, not appreciating his sense of humor. She didn't realize how strict she sounded until the words replayed in her head after she said them.

"Ouch!" House said dramatically, holding his hand over his heart. He wasn't deterred by her harsh tone. "You got me right here, Dr. Cuddy, and it hurt."

"Good," she said, not breaking the direct eye contact. "Excuse me."

She pushed her way by him and out the door, not looking back.

"One of these days, you're going to need me!" House called after her.

"Don't hold your breath," Cuddy muttered, heading for the nurse's station in the clinic to sign off on a clipboard that was being flashed to her while she fled from House's sight. She seriously considered taking the stairs so he couldn't follow her.

"Hey, don't get mad at me because you can't diagnose worth a damn. You should've left it up to me and hadn't interfered. I still don't even know why you did," he said, following her close at her heels. "Of course now, thanks to your oblivious demeanor, the patient will probably die because you're too stupid—"

"House," she said, spinning to him quickly. Her blue eyes flashed angrily at him. "This procedure is hard enough without you adding your narcissistic preeminence into the picture. Get out of my face or you're fired."

House snorted. "Yeah, I've heard that threat before. You think I'm going to pass up the chance to watch you misdiagnose someone? Not a chance. I'm so coming with you."

He walked out ahead of her. Cuddy hung her head with a sigh of defeat. He never gets it.

"Do you enjoy doing this to me?" she asked when they entered the elevator to head up to the third floor ICU.

House tilted his head in thought, although no thought was needed to form an answer. "Yep," he said simply. "It's not often I see you in action, unless it's in the clinic, and I hate it there, so I never get to see you anymore. I miss you." A stupid, silly smirk appeared on his face, signaling he was full of shit.

"Oh god, spare me," she muttered, exiting the elevator first and walking purposely fast down the hall. She wanted to lose House the easy way. She had too much on her plate and didn't need this from him.

Her patient's room was at the end of the hall where much activity was suddenly taking place. The familiar sound of a flat line could be heard echoing the hallway. Cuddy kicked up her fast-paced walk into a run. Her heart pounded in her ears as her heels assaulted the linoleum. She ran into the room, immediately demanding status. When she heard that her patient was coughing up blood and then all of a sudden stopped breathing, she became extremely worried. Early on, she already ruled out liver failure and internal bleeding, so the blood had to have come from something else. Cuddy quickly donned gloves and literally ripped the paddles from Cameron and shoved her to the side. Each of the five people in the room had a job to do and it involved moving fast. No one seemed to have notice Cameron recover from being pushed painfully into a nearby chair and nearly falling over.

"Clear!" she yelled out the first time, shocking the patient's heart.

When that didn't work, she ordered the machine charged higher. Because she didn't know what her patient had, it was difficult to predict an outcome with using the paddles. After charging the machine to the norm, she got nervous to the point where her own heart started to speed up. She hated to lose patients, especially if it's a patient she or House couldn't diagnose. It made her try twice as hard and start to overreact. Cuddy had never lost a patient, even back when she was a fulltime doctor. If she lost this woman, she'd never be able to sleep peacefully again.

"You're killing my wife!" a voice said over the ruckus.

A sharply dressed man in a tan suit crashed through the doors and pushed away anyone who got in his way. Everyone in the room knew him as the woman's husband, who had never left her side the entire time she was here. He even slept in the hallway last night. He appeared to have taken this calmly, but now, he went off the deep end.

"Sir, you can't be in here now," Cameron said hurriedly, trying to stop him with her small frame from entering the room further, but that didn't work. He pushed her out of the way just the same. Luckily, she was able to gain the proper footing and not meet the linoleum.

His goal was Cuddy. That was obvious. Ever since he stepped through the automatic opening doors, he was hot on her trail. Cuddy didn't notice, for she was focusing on saving her patient. She and three others were still fully focused on saving the woman, even though Cuddy had shocked her five times already and her heart was on its way to being fried However, Cuddy wasn't giving up.

Cameron had recovered from her small stumble and she, as well as the rest of the staff of five tried avidly to remove the woman's yelling husband from the room and back into the hallway without the use of security. It had gotten to a level that they never thought would reach. Because Cameron wasn't that strong to begin with and the rest of the ICU staff was no match for the man's rage, he broke through them and went for Cuddy. He pulled her away by the arm first, and then pushed her away from his wife's bedside, letting her know very loudly that she killed her and she would pay for it. Cuddy was horrified. Her eyes said it all. She didn't care so much for the threat, it was the fact that a woman died in her care. She wasn't in any mood to fight back. In a way, the man was right. His wife was dead and Cuddy blamed herself. If she or House properly diagnosed her patient, she would be alive right now.

Watching him sob over his dead wife's body made Cuddy start to cry. She covered her mouth to stifle a sob. All she needed was more time! If she did, everything would've been fine!

"Are you okay?" Cameron timidly asked Cuddy. After an episode like that, Cameron was afraid to approach her boss.

Cuddy met Cameron's eyes, but only for a moment before she looked away. She said nothing, only glanced back to the woman's husband as he wept over her body.

When the second tear fell from Cuddy's eye, she fled the room. She couldn't handle it anymore.

Her feet took her back to her office where she would write the report on her patient. She continued to beat herself up and tell herself that over and over again in her mind that it was her fault. Many times during the report, she would continue to space off and think about the things that she could've done to save her life.

About an hour later, Cameron entered her office.

"We have a problem," she said, stopping in the middle of the room, shoving her hands in her lab coat pockets.

Cuddy chuckled, but no humor came from it. "Got that right," she muttered, flipping to the final page of the report. She didn't bother to look up at Cameron once she was in her office. That last thing Cuddy wanted to deal with now was people. God forbid House came into her office.

"I'm serious." She finally got Cuddy's eyes to meet hers once she rested both hands on the surface of Cuddy's desk and leaned in. Cuddy had no choice but to look up, for her personal space was practically being invaded against her will. "The patient's husband isn't just angry anymore."

"What are you talking about?" Cuddy asked, bearing a frown. "And if you must bother me, at least take a seat or something. You don't have to be so close."

"He made a threat against you," Cameron said, ignoring her request. "We overheard him talking to someone on the phone. He said you're completely responsible for his wife's death."

"The man's grieving. You probably misunderstood him." Cuddy was passive, not taking too much interest. She was busy fumbling with papers to listen to Cameron.

Cameron shook her head. "No, I didn't. Chase and Foreman heard him, too. Foreman's notifying security and someone will be with you for the rest of the day." Cameron paused when Cuddy wouldn't stop doing what she was doing to listen to her. As far as Cameron was concerned, it went in one ear and out the other. Cuddy didn't so much as hum a response. Feeling frustrated, Cameron slammed a hand over Cuddy's to stop her from shuffling around. That took Cuddy by surprise and caused her to gasp and look up at Cameron. "Why aren't you taking me seriously? Do you think I'm just saying these things for my health?" she asked angrily when it looked as if Cuddy was finally paying attention to her.

"And you're the lucky one who volunteered to come tell me that my life is in danger," Cuddy said flatly, harshly ripping her hand out from underneath Cameron's. "Why?"

Cameron frowned. "Why? Because I'm worried about you, that's why. The guy is a total nutcase! You saw the way he barged into the ICU today when we tried to save his wife. For all we know, his threats are real."

"Worried?" Cuddy repeated, followed by a chuckle. "Cut the crap. We both know you want me to fry in hell." Cuddy picked up a nearby pen and started working.

Cameron's frown deepened. She felt a twinge of anger burn inside. Even if Cuddy was angry about the loss of her patient and it had a profound affect on her, Cameron didn't feel it was necessary for her to be spoken to this way. "Where the hell did that come from?"

"It's really not hard to figure out. Walls have ears, Dr. Cameron. You're lucky you still work here."

Cameron had no idea why Cuddy would assume this and had to figure it was just something that came out in the heat of the moment. However, she was quick to defend herself. "I—"
"Thank you for telling me about the crazy husband," Cuddy said, cutting her off irritably. Their eyes firmly connected. "Security won't be necessary. Tell Foreman not to waste his breath. Leave."

Cuddy had a lot on her plate. Anyone who knew Cuddy knew that she would never lash out like this, not even to House, but evidently losing a patient will do that to her. Cameron understood, but still felt angry for being snapped at. She wasn't sure why, but something inside made her want to fight back. Cameron narrowed her eyes. She wasn't done yet. There were some things she needed to get out before making her grand exit. "Forgive me for caring. And now that we're getting so personal, don't ever push me out of the way again while I'm doing my job."

That probably wasn't the best thing to say. Her tone of voice maddened Cuddy. She looked up. Angry icy blues met grey sky. Cameron struggled not to falter under Cuddy's powerful glare. Her grip on the back of the chair in front of Cuddy's desk tightened. The voice in her head told her to run for it while she still had a job here, but her feet wouldn't allow it.

"Do you have a problem with the way I run things here, Dr. Cameron?" she asked, voice low and strict.

"Only when you interfere," Cameron said truthfully, remaining fearless. "What you did was uncalled for. You think you're better than everyone else and it sickens me."

Cuddy raised her brows, followed by a chuckle. If she felt uneasy by this conversation, she hid it well. This wasn't the best time to piss Cuddy off and Cameron did a great job doing so, intentionally or not.

"I know it does and you don't bother to hide it either. Every time I walk into a room, you roll your eyes. But you know what, Cameron, that's why I'm the administrator and you're the employee. Deal with it. Get out of my office while you still have that title."

Cuddy was being calm with her, surprisingly enough. It was a regular indoor voice she used, but it was full of the type of spitefulness that made anyone's skin crawl. Cameron gripped the back of the chair so tightly that her knuckles turned white. She didn't know what bothered her more—the fact that Cuddy completely blew her off when it came to being concerned about not taking the threat seriously, or that Cuddy doesn't respect her as an employee. Either way, Cameron felt her insides heat up and her head start to throb. This was a feeling unlike anything she's ever felt before.

"It's your fault that patient died," Cameron said, not thinking before she spoke.

That earned a look of shock from Cuddy. The reason Cuddy was being so short with everyone was because of the patient dying in her care. If Cameron wanted to poke a spot, that would be the spot to poke. It was a last resort and Cameron feeling the way she was feeling at the present moment didn't allow her to hold back.

Those words hurt Cuddy. They went straight to her heart as intended.

"Maybe next time you'll learn to let us do our job—"

"She was my patient!" Cuddy yelled, slamming down her pen shooting up from the chair so fast that it nearly fell over.

"She was ours before you suddenly decided to play hero!" Cameron yelled back, voice equally loud. "I had everything under control and you had to waste our time by volunteering yourself to the case and waltzing into the ICU when we were doing a perfectly fine job without you!"

Cuddy's eyes shot daggers at Cameron. "Oh great, Cameron, just how long have you been waiting to get that off your chest?" said sharply, venom spewing from her voice. The two had so much built up tension between them and it came out at the worst time.

"I wouldn't have said it if it wasn't true," Cameron responded, sounding much calmer and more sincere, but meaning every word.

Cuddy leaned in on her desk, supporting herself with her arms. "Well then…since we're being so honest…there's something I've always wanted to get off my chest, too. Since I've already wasted enough time with you, excuse me for being so blunt. You're fired, Cameron. If you don't leave this hospital right now, I'll see to it that you're escorted out."

Cameron's tight muscles had retracted fast, causing her body to feel twice as heavy. She must've known that was going to happen. She pushed Cuddy on the worst of all days. She was asking for it.

"Fine," she said simply and spun on her heels to flee the office quickly. She didn't give it much thought in Cuddy's office about the impact those few little words brought, but when she was on the way to the locker room to get her things, heavy emotions swam over her. What the hell did she just do?

In a hallway where she was alone, she threw herself up against the wall and slid down into a seated position in tears. She threw her hands over her face to hide it. She didn't mean a word she said to Cuddy and a part of her wanted to go back and apologize, even if Cuddy's decision remained. It really wasn't about the job that made Cameron feel guilty. By nature, she was an easygoing girl with a heart for everyone, even a boss that butts in where she really should just butt out. If she must interfere, like today, pushing her aside was what made Cameron so angry. One moment, you're holding the paddles and working to restore a woman's life, and the next thing you know, you're being shoved back into a chair and almost losing your balance because you're crazy superior wants all the gold and glory for herself.

Cameron sighed and stood up after a small sobbing session. Cuddy's intentions were different, she told herself. Cuddy wasn't out for the glory. She never was.

It was too late to see reason now. Cameron picked herself up and headed the rest of the way to the locker room.

----------------------------

Cuddy remained busy the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, but with security breathing down her neck at all moments. She tried to rid them, but was overruled when they said her life was in balance and it was their job to see to it that she was okay. It was hard to ignore them, even though they agreed to keep out of her way by standing outside of her office rather than inside. Cuddy kept herself plenty busy with meetings and interviews with a new maternity department lead. When midnight rolled around, she was still there and working avidly, and alone, for security had left around ten. Assuring them she would be fine, she kicked them out so she could get her last minute work done and go home.

She still couldn't get the patient out of her mind. Maggie was her name. A good chunk of the reason why Cuddy stayed so late was because she wanted to study the file on Maggie and find out what went wrong. Why couldn't she House find a proper diagnosis for the woman? Why did she have to die so prematurely at the age of thirty-eight? House gave it his all to try to diagnose her. The more complicated the case was, the more it enthralled him, but this was just one case that left him hanging in the balance.

Cuddy couldn't figure it out and it only made her angrier. She let her anger take control of her actions and she took the file on Maggie and threw it like a Frisbee across the room. The loose papers flew out in midair and when the folder hit the wall at the other side of the room, there were no papers left inside.

Cuddy threw her hands over her face to cry. She cried in frustration. She cussed under her breath and pounded the surface of her desk. Today was not her day.

What distracted her was her doors being opened. She looked up quickly with a small gasp, tears still in her eyes.

"Just thought you'd like to know that the psycho has finally left the building. Security watched him bawl over his dead wife for twelve hours. Guess he finally got a headache and decided to leave." He limped to the center of the room and stopped there. A look of mystery was displayed his face. "Why are you crying now? I don't suppose you feel guilty for firing my most favorite employee."

Cuddy wiped her tears. House's eyes caught the trail of flown papers and traced them to the folder against the wall. "Hmm…I think some housecleaning is in order. No pun intended."

"House, what do you want?" she asked. "Can't I be miserable alone for a change?"

"Why be miserable alone when you have someone just as miserable to share it with? Why are you still here, anyway? It's past midnight. You should be at home in dreamland with visions of sugarplums dancing in your head."

"Good idea," Cuddy said, standing. "At least I know you won't be there."

"Don't be so sure. I like spying outside your window when you have your little tiny t-shirts on, or the spaghetti strapped negligees with the lacey pink thong. Those are my favorite. How do you sleep in those thongs, anyway? Don't they, like, ride up…or something?"

"House, you come near my home tonight, I will fire you with no remorse, just like I did Cameron. That is a promise."

She grabbed her jacket and purse from the coat rack and left the office. House followed behind her. He knew she would never live up to her threat.

"You can't fire me! You've already proven that those around you die if you don't have me!"

Cuddy's heart sank. House was right. Maybe next time she should just stick to being the dean of medicine, rather than playing with an undiagnosed patient. And to make matters worse, she had just remembered that she parked in the garage today and cussed under her breath. She had to park there because when she came back to work from going home to change her clothes, a trash truck was parked in front of her spot. Because she didn't want to wait, she parked in the underground garage instead.

It wasn't recommended to go into the garage alone, especially at this time of the night. This wasn't the first time she's gone out there alone. Wilson gave her an earful after he found out about the last time she had done it.

"Are you crazy?" he asked her the day after. "Don't you know what happens to defenseless women in dark parking garages?"

"I can take care of myself," Cuddy responded, sounding bored of the conversation. Plus, she was in a hurry that day. Documents needed her signature at the front desk in the clinic and the pharmacy had run into a problem with running out of a particular popular medication that everyone in the hospital managed to have needed at that given moment.

"Look at it this way…if something does happen in the garage, she's not that far away from the hospital," House threw in from behind, causing Cuddy to roll her eyes. She rolled them even now, remembering his brusque sense of wit as the elevator headed down to the garage level. It shouldn't surprise her. She never gets any serious conversations from him. He couldn't be serious if her life depended on it. If something were to ever happen to her in the garage, House would be the last person to come to her rescue, even if he showed up first. Knowing him, he'd take out a folding beach chair from the trunk of his car, pull out a couple beers, popcorn, and watch the scene unfold before him. He'd have a flag in the other hand, or his cane, waving it around and cheering the attacker on. Cuddy could see it now and it made her sick to her stomach how he could act that way.

Her car was on the end of one of the rows, no more than twenty feet ahead of her. Her car and only two others were left until the morning crew came around four-thirty. She knew she wasn't going to be a part of that team today. She vowed at least six hours of sleep when she got home.

When she reached into her purse to shuffle around for her keys, she was stopped by the call of her name from another row. Cuddy stopped and looked towards the voice that came from behind.

She noticed the face right away. It's a face she would never forget. It was Maggie's husband that came forth.

Her heart jumped up into her throat as her mind screamed at her to run. It screamed louder the closer he got to her. Her feet were nailed to the cement beneath her. When he left his wife's body, he must've come here. The entire time, he's been down in the garage waiting for her. Cuddy had an awful feeling that hunch was right.

"I've been waiting for you, Dr. Cuddy," he said, making her hunch true.

"What do you want?" she asked. The threat started becoming more and more conscious in her mind. This man was so loyal to his wife that someone had to pay for her death. He stuck to the someone that was responsible for her death.

"Isn't it obvious? I want my wife back," he said. "You killed her."

Cuddy felt her knees weaken. When Cameron talked about it with her earlier, and with Cuddy telling herself over and over again that she was responsible for his wife's death, it was nothing compared to what she felt when the husband himself so bluntly said that she killed her. It struck her where it counted.

Tears came to her eyes instantly. "I'm so sorry about your wife, Mr. Flannigan. I really am. I tried everything I could—"

"You didn't try hard enough!" he yelled, voice echoing in the garage. "Are you even qualified to do that sort of job? You're a disgrace to your staff, as well as yourself. How do you plan on living with yourself after today?"

Cuddy shook her head slowly and swallowed the lump in her throat. "I'm so sorry, I—"

"Do you know what my wife had to leave behind, Dr. Cuddy?" He exposed a picture of Maggie and a large family posed in front of a Christmas tree. Each and every one of the fifteen or so family members showed off their pearly whites as they smiled for the camera. So was Maggie. She stood in the middle of everyone, smiling wider with happiness. Cuddy's heart melted. "That's the family from just her side. The little girl beside her is our daughter. How the hell am I going to tell her that her mother is dead?"

Cuddy couldn't speak. Her voice was caught in her throat, preventing her from doing so.

"Who do you have to leave behind? Any family? Children? I assume you're not married. Would anyone miss you?"

Cuddy didn't give it much thought. She was more concerned that he was asking her this.

"Mr. Flannigan, I did not kill your wife," she said, trying to assure him, as well as assure herself in the process. "She had a disease that we couldn't diagnose in time."

"Isn't that your job?!" he yelled. "Words can't explain how much hurt you've placed in my heart, Dr. Cuddy. My wife was perfectly fine until she came here. She was only complaining of headaches when all of a sudden, she dies. Just…out of the blue, just like that. You're a murderer, Dr. Cuddy," he said emphatically.

Cuddy's mouth dropped. Her body grew hot. She's been called many things, but never a murderer. The name-call took her by surprise, as well as the violent look on the man's face.

"I'm going to give you a taste of your own medicine," he said, stepping closer to her. That didn't startle her so much, but what widened her eyes was the extraction of a very sharp knife from the inside breast pocket of his jacket. He was going to kill her! He was crazy enough to do so!

That was it. Cuddy's feet took over from here, even though her legs felt as heavy as lead. Wishing she took the threat earlier seriously, she spun around and ran the rest of the way to her car, despite her weakened knees. No one had ever threatened her life before and it brought the tough dean of medicine to an immediate panic. The only sound that was heard in the garage was her heels pounding the pavement as she ran. Somewhere between the middle of the isle and the twenty feet back to the car, she lost her purse while frantically searching for her keys and unlocking her car with the remote on the way. She didn't even notice the loss of her purse, for the man was running after her with the knife still clearly visible in his hand. That's the only thing on her mind right now. At any given moment, she expected to feel the knife in her back, completely thinking he would throw it at her to get her to stop running. He was gaining on her because running in heels slowed her down tremendously. The thought of ditching them was on her mind, but kicking them off would require time and time is not what she had right now.

He was too close for her to make a clean getaway, or to even get into her car and lock the doors. The moment she reached her car and opened the door, he was right there. He grasped her by the wrist and spun her around to face him, making her cry out and drop her keys to the ground in the process. The grip on her wrist never loosened.

The look on the man's face twisted in rage. Cuddy's head grew cloudy with fear. She had no idea this type of fright actually existed inside her. Even though she wanted nothing more than to plead with him to see the wrong in this, words couldn't come to her while there was a knife inches away from her face.

"What do you want from me?" she asked, remaining fearless, even though that knife was dangerously close to her. She couldn't help but watch it carefully as he lowered it. One swift move forward and the blade would puncture her stomach. The thought of it made her feel ill.

"You're beautiful when you're scared," he said and reached up to cup her cheek. When she yanked her head back, it angered him. He then backhanded her so hard with his free hand that her body spun around and smacked into her car. Her lip split immediately and her cheek felt unbelievably hot and sore instantly from the slap. Cuddy never made an audible sound, except for a gasp when his hand came into contact with her face. Inside, though, she was screaming for help. God knows why this man was doing what he was doing. Cuddy also knew it was pointless to scream, even after he told her that she would be skewered if she did so. There was no one here to scream out to. Everyone was gone! Wilson was right. She was stupid to go in here alone. She should've asked House to come with her. At least the bastard would be helpful for something!

Tears fell down her cheeks after he yelled at her to turn around. When she didn't, he yanked her by the wrist again and forced her to do so. He got angrier when he saw the tear trails on her cheeks.

"What the fuck are you crying for?" he hissed angrily, jaw tightly clenched. "You're so tough upstairs, but down here, after one little slap and a look at a knife, you become a mama's girl. Guess that's one secret I didn't know about the great Dr. Cuddy."

"You can go to hell," Cuddy said venomously, causing yet another stinging slap to crush her cheekbone.

This time, she received one on both sides of her face, one after the other. This time, she cried out. No one had ever physically abused her before and not only did it hurt, but it caused her to come to terms with the fact that she was most definitely screwed and would not live to see tomorrow.

She was going to die.

He ripped her head back by grabbing a fistful of hair. Cuddy gasped loudly in fear.

"Don't ever speak to me that way again," he hissed into her ear.

"You don't want to do this," Cuddy said as he pinned her up against her car, back facing him. This was a last ditch effort to try to reason with him. "Please…don't become what you think I've become. That makes you no better than me."

To shut her up, he shoved her head forward so fast that her forehead hit the door of her car before she could stop it. The impact would leave a bruise. Cuddy whimpered. He kept his hand firmly at the back of her head so she couldn't pick it up.

"My reasons are also personal, Dr. Cuddy."

Just when Cuddy was about to reason with him further, she felt a ripping pain enter the small of her back. It was a pain unlike anything she had ever felt before and it took her breath away. The man had stabbed her. Not only did he do it once, but three times in different areas around the small of her back. Each stab sent a sheering sharp pain up and down her spine and fanned out to every tip of her body.

"Next time you'll learn to properly do your job!" he yelled into her ear and then released her. Cuddy fell to the ground, unable to stand any longer. Breathing was also starting to become an issue.

He continued to scream at her and hit her when she was down, but after awhile, Cuddy felt nothing. She was so numb from the wounds that no pain came from the impacts and sharp blows to the head. It got to the point where it only felt as if she were being casually bumped into or pushed slightly, even though the man was doing so much more than that. It's as if he were trying to break her metaphorical shell and had a very good reason for doing so, other than just his wife dying.

Blackness surrounded her clouded mind after that. The man's voice was slowly becoming faint and then inaudible altogether in her mind. The only thing she heard was her own voice calling out for help. Unfortunately, the voice was only in her head. She tried to reach out for the one person she wanted more than anything to come to her aid.

House…help me …please…I'm so scared…

And then everything fell quiet.

-------------------------

It was Foreman and Cameron that pounded on House's door at two in the morning to give him the news. They tried calling, but House either didn't want to answer his phone, or he didn't hear it ringing in the first place.

"This better be good," he grumbled, coming to the door in boxers and a plain black pocket t-shirt.

"Why didn't you answer your phone?" Cameron asked, close to the edge of wanting to strangle House.

"Because it's two in the morning and I was sleeping, duh," he said matter-of-factly, feigning exhaustion by half-closing his eyes. "What do you want? Didn't Cuddy fire you?"

"Cuddy's in critical condition, House. She was stabbed in the parking garage," Foreman said.

Suddenly, House didn't look so tired. His eyes snapped open and met both their worried stares. However, a frown took place across his face.

"Now, if you were me and I were you, I'd think you were just full of b/s, but because you're not me—"

"House, this isn't a joke. It's Maggie Flannigan's husband, the one who made the threat we overheard."

House still looked to be in doubt. It was in his nature to be a condescending jerk, but when it came to Cuddy, he was skeptical and showed it. It's as if he didn't know how to behave towards the fact that his boss was in critical condition! He knew Foreman and Cameron weren't bullshitting him because of the looks on their faces. Perhaps he was in denial. This sort of thing couldn't happen to Cuddy!

"Well, then, what are we waiting for? Let's go save her, otherwise I won't have a boss's ass to stare at."

He shut his door and left in what he was wearing. House obviously appeared that he didn't care about Cuddy, but the more he heard, the harder it struck him. It's a good thing he sat in the back seat in the dark while Foreman and Cameron were up front, because he discovered his eyes becoming more watery than normal. He had no control over it. Suddenly, he hated himself for being so weak.

"Well, aren't you going to tell me how it happened?" he asked, breaking the silence in the car. "I've never known Cuddy to be so pathetic and have her subject herself to being stabbed by some psycho husband of a dead lady," he said, figuring that if he said something bad, he could trick his body into thinking he didn't care and then maybe his eyes could stop watering.

He learned that she was stabbed three times and one of the times, the knife pierced one of her kidneys, placing her in critical condition with internal bleeding until it could be removed. It was so severe that it was possible she wouldn't survive the operation. That information shocked House's heart immensely.

"Oh come on, Cuddy's tough as nails. She'll get better tonight and be back to work tomorrow."

"Not this time, House," Foreman said, sounding disheartened. "Not this time."

One of the third shift hospital staff members found Cuddy at one-thirty in the morning, exactly an hour and twenty minutes after she was stabbed, making her chances of survival very slim. For an entire hour and twenty minutes, Cuddy lay unconscious in a pool of her own blood without the attacker anywhere in sight. The only reason she was found is because the owner of one of the two cars in the garage basement had to go out to her car to grab something and found her lying there. If she didn't get there when she did, the next person that would come through the garage was one of the morning crew at four-thirty. Cuddy would be long dead then. There would be no saving her.

------------------------

When they arrived at the OR of Princeton-Plainsboro, Cameron and Foreman met up with Chase in the small balcony over the room Cuddy was in. He was one of the doctors assigned to Cuddy. House saw him in scrubs and immediately rolled his eyes with a groan. "What the hell is this? A family reunion? It's just stab wounds for god sakes. Not everyone had to get out of their comfortable bed for lil ole Cuddy."

"Oh, so only you can?" Chase commented on House's boxers and t-shirt. "Looks like you were too worried about Cuddy to change your clothes. Seems to me you're just as worried as the rest of us."

"Just…shut up, both of you." Cameron didn't feel like hearing the backbiting between the two. She focused on Chase. "Is she okay?"

Chase opened his mouth to speak, but House cut him off. "What do you care? You hate her. That's why she fired you."

That's how it always appeared to be. Whenever Cuddy stuck around longer than she should, or took over a case for her own personal reasons, Cameron was the first to roll her eyes and burn up inside. And then there would be times where Cuddy seemed to pick on Cameron to do extra work when there was an entire roomful of people to do that same work for her. It was the little things that brought the hint that Cameron didn't like Cuddy, but never did she want to hope something bad would happen to her. And even though Cuddy did make it clear that she was fired, Cameron was still worried and wanted to be here for her.

Cameron sent House a glare. "House, for once, just shut up, alright. I don't even know why we told you if you're just going to be a condescending ass about it."

House didn't care at all with the way he was spoken to. He carried on just the same. "You did more than that! You actually had the nerve to—"

House was cut short when activity started building up loudly in the room beneath them where Cuddy was.

"Dr. Chase! We need you down here!" a voice said through an intercom system.

Chase immediately hurried away and headed downstairs. He squeezed past the door between machines and other OR personnel that didn't give him much room as quickly as he needed it. Cameron and Foreman hurried quickly to the window to see the action below. House, however, stood in the same spot by the door, watching the activity from afar. It wasn't by choice. He couldn't move his legs. He was frozen. He couldn't see what was happening inside the room from where he stood, but heard the activity and the anxious voices. He also swore he heard a machine about to flat line. That was enough for him. Cameron and Foreman looked in through the window intently. Both of them were so confound with the horror that went on in the room that neither of them noticed that House wasn't with them.

And then he was gone altogether.