Save Me from this Pain
By: Liv-x-Lex4Ever
She'd checked every other possible place before walking in.
"House," she said.
He stopped throwing his red and blue tennis ball up against his back wall and turned around to face her. Something was off, had been for the past week. Something changed, to others it would just seem like a bad event, losing a patient, but him he knew by looking into her eyes, it was so much more.
"Yes?" he asked as he raised an eyebrow.
She placed her hands on his desk, leaning toward him. "Aren't you supposed to be—oh I don't know—saving someone's life?" she nearly shouted. She was angry, but from her expression, it wasn't about him.
"Well, I would, except no one's come in yet…" he stated with almost a grin, or he would have if he thought this was just on ordinary day. "Why are you so concerned all of a sudden? If there was something that needed to be taken care of, either me or my team would be there," he answered as he tried to figure her out.
"Well, you shouldn't just be—why shouldn't I be?" She was so close to a breakdown. She needed to do something, so, of course, she turned to him. He wouldn't care if she unleashed things on him, hell, for the most part, he expected it from her. She stood up straight, but House watched the way she quickly pulled her arms back.
She was halfway across the room, before he spoke, "Cuddy, what's wrong? You haven't been your usual self all week." She turned on her heel and met his gaze.
"That, Dr. House," she stated with irritation, "is none of your concern." She walked briskly out of the office.
Now normally, he would just attribute it to her hormones and move on with his day, but something in her voice, eyes, and facial expression told him she was venting to the only person she could without being asked many questions.
The reason he was still here, working in this hospital, wasn't because of their past and he knew that just as well as she did. The reason he was still here was because even though he had a troubled beside manner, made stupid jokes at a patient's expense and was sometimes slyer than a doctor should be to a patient, he was still one of the best doctors here.
Even she would agree on that. She had even defended that on occasion.
Curiosity of her plagued his mind like nothing ever had before. Though it wasn't new to him, he just didn't think he'd ever feel this way about her again, never get the chance to. He had the chance now, but he wished the situation was different. They weren't running from their past as much as they were trying not to repeat it.
After his accident, things changed and as much as House wished they could go back to the way things were before then, he knew they couldn't…better than anyone did. It was kind of ironic. Most would think that they would still be friends afterward, but they couldn't be.
There was something Lisa Cuddy still had after all this time…although, being as stubborn as he was, he'd never admit it…
Something was wrong with her and he would find out what it was even if he had to corner her in her car and make her tell him. Taking his cane from beside him, House stood walking out of his office. He was surprised that no one had come in yet, or if they had, hadn't asked for him.
"House, did you say something to her?" Wilson asked as he passed the main desk, walking in step with him.
"Who?" he asked.
All Wilson did was glare at him. "Cuddy. House, she ran past everyone…she even ignored—oh forget it," Wilson told him. House stopped a few steps behind. Now he knew something was wrong.
"Wilson, wait," House said, his friend doubled back, looking curious, "who did she ignore?" he asked.
"A young girl—she couldn't have been older than 18—came in earlier complaining of stomach pains and ran right into Cuddy, but all Cuddy did was mummer an 'I'm sorry' and ran off to her office. What did you say to her?" he asked.
"What makes you think it was me? She's been acting unusual all week and it's my fault?" he asked as they rested again a wall in a deserted hall.
"Well, she did say she was going to talk to you, so what do you expect me to think?"
"She's supposed to make me upset. She's MY boss not the other way around. She did come in asking why I wasn't working, but I really didn't think it was a big deal," House answered. "Where's the girl? Is she still here?"
"We ran a few tests, found a stomach virus, gave her medication and sent her home. Why are you avoiding the subject of Cuddy like the plague?" Wilson asked, but House was already down the next hallway. "Hopefully, I'll find out later."
House was already outside her office door. He could see her going through a stack of files, but she didn't seem to be looking at anything.
She could sense his presence outside, so she covered up again and looked up, unaware that a few tears were in her eyes as she motioned for him to enter.
"What's got you coming to see me now, House?" she asked curiously. "Another patient won't consent to a test they clearly need?" she asked as he sat down in a chair opposite of her.
"Actually, I was wondering what you were up to," he said. This statement had her curious. Usually it was the other way around.
"Look House, if this is some ploy to try to get off clinic duty this week…" Cuddy started, House reached over and wiped a tear from her cheek. She pulled away roughly, "House, wha—"
"You don't seem like yourself. No, this isn't some trick to get out of anything," he said as he wiped her tear on his leg. "Can't I just be concerned for you for once?" he asked.
Cuddy sat there nearly stunned. He's concerned for my well being, me? And not trying to get anything? It's not exactly a first, well it is since his accident, but—her thoughts seemed to drift. She wasn't sure what to think.
She sighed. "House, I really—" her cell phone rang. He noticed as soon as she saw the name, her mood brightened, but only to cover something up. "—yeah, dinner sounds great. I'll be off in about two hours. Okay, see you there," she hung up and her mood instantly dropped almost as if the plans brought her down.
"I just wanted to make sure you were all right. Wilson said you flat-out ignored a patient this morning," he said.
"What? I don't remember—"
"He said it was right after you talked to me. She ran right into you and—" she rested her head in her hands.
"She—she was a patient? Are you sure?" Cuddy asked as she brought her head up and looked right into his eyes. Sometimes she wondered if the only thing that kept them apart was just their jobs. He nodded. "What was wrong with her?" she asked.
"Some stomach virus. Wilson said they did tests, gave her medication and sent her home."
"Oh all right, I just…" she tried to say.
"Had something on your mind?" he asked as he noticed something, grabbing her wrist, "Cuddy, what in the world is—"
"Out!" she said firmly.
"I'm concerned, that's all," he claimed as she wrenched her wrist away and walked to her door.
"I know, but nothing's wrong. Everything's fine," she claimed.
"I don't believe that and neither do you, Cuddy!" he shouted. "Something's wrong and I know it had to do with that phone call!"
She fought to control her voice, "Dr. House, what I do with my free time and social life is my business and no concern of yours!"
He stood up and walked over to her, "I know that, but I hope you know, that no matter what, my door's always open," House said as he walked out.
"Yeah, I do," she whispered as she watched him walk away. She closed the door and leaned against it, wiping her eyes. She knew what he was getting at, but she never wanted to admit it.
She'd been seeing this wonderful guy for a few weeks now. He was smart, kind, caring and honest. There were only problems when he drank. If she said or did anything wrong, something bad would happen. Something about this week…it just had him off kilter. She only said yes to his plans to prevent House from asking more questions. He was always so sweet…but only before alcohol.
She was surprised House was the only one who took the time to notice it. She knew he was concerned about her, he always was and for that Lisa Cuddy was very grateful, but she also hoped that she would never have to take him up on his offer.
With a sigh, she walked back over and sat at her desk, looking for a patient file that had to be there somewhere…
12:37 A.M.
House rolled over in bed. He'd been dreaming of what could've happened to cause the marks on her wrist, though there was only one answer. He limped over to his bedroom wall, grabbed his cane, and headed out to the living room, as his trusty bottle of Vicodin was still in his jacket pocket and he knew he'd never be able to sleep again with his leg hurting.
He'd almost reached his coat when a knock came from his door. Curious as to who in the hell would dare disturb him at this hour, he donned his robe tying it at the waist and went over to the door.
"Who is it?" he asked as he stepped in front of the door.
"Cuddy," she whispered almost inaudibly.
He almost had to strain his ears to hear her, but he was almost afraid of why she was so quiet, other than it being after midnight.
"Cuddy, what are you doing here at this hour?" House asked after he opened the door.
"I don't suppose the offer you made this morning is still good?" she asked, leaning on the doorframe.
Now that the light caught her face, he was able to take in her appearance.
She was an absolute mess. Her hair which was usually up or lay lightly on her shoulders was in tangles and her eyes were beet red as if she'd been crying long before this. Her mascara was running or already ran down her face.
He moved aside and gestured for her to enter, which she did without hesitation. He closed the door behind her and moved to sit on the couch beside her.
"So, your dinner plans fall through?" he asked as he placed his hand on top of hers. He noticed how shaky she was. "Wait here, I'll be right back."
He stood and walked into his bedroom and grabbed an old quilt. Draping it over his shoulders, he then walked back out and sat beside her again.
"Here," he said as he unfolded the blanket and placed it over them, "Now, would you care to tell me what you're doing here alone in the middle of the night?" he asked.
"Oh, that's not even half of it," she told him as tears fell.
"Okay, so tell me what happened?"
"I should've stopped seeing him a long time ago, but he's always so sincere in the morning. At night, it's a whole other story. I only said yes to keep you from asking questions," she told him as her body shook.
"I want to know, please keep going…is he why you have that mark?" he asked.
"Yes, but he—he's always so sorry in the morning. I keep thinking that someday something will change. He didn't used to leave marks, but now that he is I—" she couldn't finish her statement.
"You're worried about how long you have until he does something worse?" he asked. Surprisingly, she rested her head on his shoulder.
"I just don't know what to do anymore."
"Are you sure about that? You're here for some reason," he said as he leaned back against the couch, wrapping an arm around her. Something about this, just how they were felt oddly right, but much too familiar.
Of course, neither wanted to admit it.
"Maybe I just needed someone who wouldn't blame me," she whispered. He was suddenly alert at her statement.
"Why would anyone blame you? You thought he'd change. It's not your fault he won't," he answered.
"He did," she said, almost without volume. Her body was bruised, beaten, and bloodied (in places he couldn't see now), but she was more tired than frightened now, "Hou—Greg?" she asked, though it sounded foreign.
"Hmm?" he looked at her tired, worried expression.
"He said he'd come for me. That's why I came to you. He doesn't know I know you—not even that you work for me," she said with her voice slightly shaking. "I'm sorry if this puts you at risk, really, but I didn't feel like I had anyone else, not after tonight."
He really wanted to ask why she hadn't gone to the police, but decided against it. He sat up and leaned her against the couch, "Wait here," he said, grabbing his cane and going into his room. He returned moments later with two pillows.
"How long has it been since you've taken your Vicodin?" she asked as he sat beside her and positioned the pillows against the armrest.
"Since before I fell asleep. I was actually on my way out here to get some when I got an unexpected guest. Gee, I wonder who that was?" he said, dripping with sarcasm. And, even with everything that happened to her tonight, with every fear that she had of him finding her here, Lisa Alexandra Cuddy laughed.
He raised an eyebrow. "Something catch your attention?" he asked.
"Oh no, just that unmistakable wit you have, that's all," she claimed as he lay down with her resting comfortably in his arms.
3:35 A.M.
Another pounding, what now? He thought irritated, as he carefully sat up, grabbed his cane and walked over to the door, leaving Cuddy to rest.
"Who the hell is it?" he asked, anger clear as day in his voice from being woken up, yet again.
"Where's Lisa I know she's in there," he yelled. Oh great, he thought. Man she's right. Boy, does he ever drink. I can smell it through the door.
"I don't know who the hell you're talking about and I'm not dressed, so get lost," he yelled back.
"House, wha—" Cuddy asked, yawning as she sat up.
"Shhh…" he said turning to her. He turned back to the door, "Go away," he said.
"No, not until she's with me."
Panic and fear were evident on her face. She thought he'd never look here. Now if something happened to him—it would be her fault.
"I'll tell you what? How 'bout I get dressed so I can help you?" he suggested.
No response.
"Wh—what are you doing? Y—you can't possible expect to fight him," she said.
"No, I don't plan to fight, there's a fire escape from my bedroom window," he whispered. "You need to get out of here. I'll hold him off."
"No, I won't let you. You can't—you—" she said as tears started falling down her face.
"Whose there with you? Lisa, get the hell out here NOW!"
"Fine, then just go in my room, lock the door and don't come out 'til I come for you. Go!" he yelled. Cuddy grabbed her jacket from the floor and ran to the back room, locking it. Looking back from his door, he walked over and closed the cabinet doors to cover up his door closing.
He then, went over and unlocked the door. The man staggered through the door almost falling twice and, somehow, made his way to a chair.
"Now, who are you looking for?" he asked, yawning as he sat on the couch opposite of him.
"Li—Lis—sa Cu—ddy…" he slurred.
"And why do you think she'd be with me?" he asked.
Cuddy sat on her knees with her ear on the door. She'd found a putter under the bed and she remembered she was the reason he kept it: to keep me safe, she thought. But after all these years, he still has it?
It'd been a gift to him from her a few months after they'd first started dating…before his accident. It was from Valentine's Day, I believe. Things seem so much different now, but are they really? I'm the one who knows him better than anyone. To some point, I guess I still—the sound of broken glass brought her back to the real world, as well as a yell from House.
Making sure she was as close to the wall as she could get, she cracked the door. House was on the floor with his cane nowhere in sight. He put his arms over his head and now she realized why he yelled. Her drunken soon-to-be ex had his cane positioned right above his head.
I've got to do something. I can't just let him get hurt. I know he doesn't want me to get hurt, but I deal with unruly patients just as much as he does. This shouldn't be too much different.
With that, she grabbed the putter and ran out of the room. She stood over House using the putter as a block.
"Li—Lisa, I kn—knew you w—were here," he said grabbing her arm with more force than necessary making her wince and drop the object. "How dare y—you r—run from m—me," he yelled shoving her down. "So this is who you choose, some crippled man. I'll make your choice easier," with that he brought it down hard on his head.
"NO!" she screamed as she realized he was about to do it again and grabbed his arm. He was quicker and shoved her backwards into the cabinet rendering her unconscious.
While he'd been doing that, House used the putter she dropped as a temporary cane and got to his feet. He took two steps back.
"What's wrong?" he slurred. "N—not so brave without this?"
House grinned, "Actually," he said picking up the putter and limping over, "I almost feel—oh what's the word—sorry for you."
He laughed over-exaggeratedly. "Sorry for me? You'll think sorry when I'm through!" he yelled swinging the cane in House's direction, but missing because the alcohol made his movement exaggerated and easy to dodge.
"Will I really?" he asked sarcastically, pulling his cane from the man's grasp and knocking him in the stomach.
Surprisingly, the man stumbled backwards, fell to the floor, and passed out.
"Hmph, some attempt to win your woman back," he answered.
With that, he called the police. Within an hour, he was gone to be put into jail. The police asked House if he wanted to go to the hospital or if he thought Dr. Cuddy should, but his head wasn't bleeding—just a nasty knot—and she didn't appear to have any recent injuries other than a few cuts from where her head connected with his liquor cabinet which he could easily see to, so he declined.
6:45 A.M.
Cuddy rolled over in bed. Something was different. Why did her arms hurt? And her head? And was that…men's cologne? She smelled the familiar scent, taking comfort in it. Wait, that cologne…that's what House wears… she thought instantly sitting up.
She noticed her arms had fresh bruises on them, but it looked as if someone had done a cold compress because they weren't as dark as they usually were.
A particularly loud sound came from the next room. She looked around. Where am I? This is—no, this can't be…I haven't been here in how many years… She caught a glimpse of the putter on the bedside table. Wait, if that's there then—oh no, don't tell me that nightmare was real!
Cuddy went to stand up, but found herself incredibly dizzy and as stubborn as she was she wasn't stupid enough to go walking alone with a head injury, which she clearly had. She sat back on the bed, ran her fingers through her hair and sure enough there was some type of bandage back there, though she had no idea what could be there.
Footsteps were coming toward the room. For a second, she was afraid thinking it was her now-ex boyfriend. Then she instantly relaxed as uneven footfalls hit her ears, knowing only one person to have them.
Dressed in a blue bathrobe, House opened his bedroom door, dripping wet just out of the shower. Something that looked like a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth the moment he caught sight of her.
"House, I can't believe what I'm seeing," she said as he walked in and closed the door. He walked over and sat beside her.
"And whatever do you mean, Dr. Cuddy? Did I surprise you this morning?" he asked.
"Yes, you did. I haven't seen you smile like this since—" Cuddy couldn't bring herself to finish her statement. He really was smiling. It was true.
"—before the accident?" he asked. She nodded as he thought he saw a tear in her eye. "Maybe I have a reason to be happy, ever think of that?"
"No, I guess not," she said rubbing her head.
"Oh, you might not want to do that too much today. I'm not sure how long my makeshift bandage will hold," he told her as he pulled her hand away.
"Makeshift bandage? You mean to tell me that I have a concussion and you didn't take me to the hospital, me, your boss?" she asked with a grin as well as authority. House was surprised she hadn't pulled her hand away yet.
"Come on, it's not that bad really. The cut is shallow, but you were bleeding a little bit. If it would've been major, I would've taken you. However…"
"What?" she asked as she pulled her hand out of his grasp to move some hair from her face.
"Well, how do you think it would look to your employees and students if we came in the middle of the night? I'd imagine they'd immediately jump to the wrong conclusion."
"Yes, but I would think if they saw me unconscious and wanted to find out why, they'd understand. They're smart, you know." Her eyes wandered the room. It'd been so long since she'd slept here, but not much had changed, room wise anyway.
"Well, I'd better get dressed. Even though we don't have to work I thought—"
"House, I have to work. I'm YOUR boss remember?" she said as she went to stand up, but he wrapped an arm around her.
"No, Dr. Cuddy, you don't have to work today and neither do I. I called Wilson and explained we didn't get much sleep because of a certain somebody nearly killing us last night. He said if anything major came up he'd call, but even if he did, we wouldn't necessarily have to go in," he saw her grin at him from the corner of his eye.
"What happened to that certain somebody anyway?" she asked placing her hand on his leg and her head on his shoulder.
"Well, after you passed out, he tried to attack me, but his overly-exaggerated movements were easy to dodge and then he passed out cold, after which, I called the police to take him away and said that neither of us needed major medical attention."
She sighed. "Well, that's good, I guess."
"You guess?"
She nodded. "Other than his alcohol problem, he was almost perfect."
"Almost? So you have or haven't had perfection?"
She shook her head. "I don't know, but did last night mean anything significant to you?"
He thought a moment. "Hmm. I'm not quite sure on that one. How about this? You can go take a shower and we discuss it over lunch?"
She quirked a brow. "House…"
"What? I'm trying to be civil."
She sighed. "All right. I suppose I owe you, so I'll take you up on your offer this time," she replied, standing up.
"Any chance of there being a next time?"
She turned in the doorframe with a smile on her lips. "Let's just see how lunch goes."
THE END
Author's Note: Well, what do you think? I started this a long time ago.
Thanks to my Beta:Tiger(dot)Lily(dot)Weasley(dot)757
Please read & review!
Liv-x-Lex4Ever