A/N: It takes place at the end of 'You Don't Want To Know'. It's the same night that House tries to give Remy the first set of test results.
XXXXXX
It was late, but Cuddy was still working. The past couple of days had been so chaotic that she had fallen unusually behind. She liked to play catch-up in the evenings; the hospital was always so much more serene then. Occasionally sipping a cup of coffee, she progressively moved through the stack of papers sitting on her desk. That was her other incentive to work at night; she got her work mostly finished. There were less people to disrupt her. She worked so infrequently with the night staff, that nearly all of them were afraid to approach her, unless it was something dire.
As she went about initialing the miscellaneous papers, her office door slowly opened. Cuddy glanced up, startled that anyone would be stopping bye. "Just when I thought my night was going to be a worry-free one," she said, smiling ironically at House. Her words were typical, but they were lacking the customary bite.
He forced a smile at her teasing. He didn't have it in him to quarrel with her. That wasn't the reason he was there. Moving to her couch he sat down, appearing confused. He needed her advice, but he didn't know how to go about asking her. It had been such a long time, since they had been friends. Organizing the words in his head, a realization struck him. He didn't just need her advice, he wanted it.
Cuddy didn't like the way he was acting. The only time's he got this serious were when something bad occurred. Setting her pen down, she took her glasses off and left them on the desk. She walked over to the couch where he was sitting and sat down beside him. Cuddy didn't say anything at first, pushing him to talk would certainly run him off. Instead, she just sat next to him, waiting patiently.
He began to fidget with his cane, not sure how to approach the matter. Glancing down at his hands, he spoke quietly, "There's a chance that Thirteen might be dying." He didn't like it. He didn't like that it made a difference to him. When he didn't let people in, he didn't get hurt. He knew that it made him miserable, but that had always seemed easier than the pain.
He pushed people away for a reason. Wilson and Cuddy had been enough for him for so long. Then there was his old team, but they had all left. Even when they returned, it didn't change the fact that they had run. They had fled to get away from him. Now with a fresh team and new people in his space, he was growing attached. He didn't want to care.
Cuddy looked at him shocked. She knew what the circumstance must have been doing to him. She understood him better than he wanted her to, maybe better than most. She had begged him to let down his walls and allow people back into his life. Now it was haunting him. She couldn't help but feel moderately responsible for the way he was acting and the situation he was in.
"Dr. Hadley? What do you think she has?" Cuddy asked. Knowing House, she was sure he had all the elements worked out. All the details including how long the girl might have left. She could feel the nervousness twisting at her stomach. She didn't want to know, someone that young shouldn't have anything deadly. It wasn't fair that there were so many diseases out there that could snatch away life, before it was even appreciated. They were doctors, specialists of medicines and diseases, experts in their fields. Yet their knowledge always limited them, especially now, in dealing with one of their own.
House knew that this was something Cuddy wouldn't take easily. Her appreciation for life often left her bitter at its unjust frailty. However, she was the only one he could turn to with this. "Her mom died of Huntington's Chorea." His eyes closed shut, as he heard a small gasp from Cuddy. "I don't know what to do," he confided. "There's a fifty percent chance she has it," he whispered, looking at Cuddy with obvious heartache in his eyes.
"House," Cuddy said, shaking her head in disbelief. "There's nothing you can do. She might not even have it," she offered. "If she does, she's still young and reasonably healthy. We could get her into drug trials or experimental treatments. There's plenty of time for someone to come up with something before it gets to an advanced stage."
She had a cool exterior, but inside, she was screaming. It wasn't right. Having come into her position early, she understood the sacrifices the girl had already made to get to where she was. Those sacrifices, on top of watching her mother die at such a young age, were more than what most people had to bear.
House looked up, searching her eyes. He knew she was screening her own emotions for him. She had always tried to protect him. "I got a sample," he confessed. Expecting her to yell at him about his lack of ethics, he was surprised when she didn't react.
Cuddy knew there was no reason to argue about the things he had already done. With patients, it was different; she had to yell at him. In situations like these, well the rules were less clear, she could be more forgiving. His own curiosity was something he had never been able to control. It was what made him so good at his job. "Should I be expecting a law suit?" she teased, trying to lighten his mood.
House chuckled, slightly. "No, no law suit." He reached down and grabbed her hand, before he even realized he had done it. She had always been his rock. He felt her hand squeeze his, promising him he wasn't alone. As they sat there in contemplative both doctor's minds wandered to the same night.
XXXXXX
House was lying in his bed, fevered and sweaty, while Cuddy wandered inside his home. She was looking for his pills. He only had the one bottle, and they didn't know where it was. Until he got on his feet again, Stacy had been giving him his medicine. She had been the last one to have them, and now she was gone. There was no telling where she had left the pills. Had Cuddy thought ahead, she could have brought more with her, but she hadn't even realized Stacy was gone. House had always been stubborn, but now he refused any sort of help from anyone.
Cuddy came back into the bedroom, without his pills. "I can't find them," she said, obviously frustrated. "Look I can run and get you some," she offered, not liking to see him in that much pain. When he shook his head no, her heart broke. She knew that their friendship was strained by their current circumstances, but she had hope that he still trusted her.
"Don't leave," he pleaded, voice cracking, "They always leave." He fell back down against his pillow, not having the strength to hold himself up for long.
"Okay, I won't go," she assured, sitting down on the bed next to him. "I'll call Wilson. He can bring some over for you." She ran her fingers across his forehead, gently easing away the tension. Her fingers combed through his hair, as she watched him struggle with the pain.
"Don't leave me Lisa," he said, near tears. His arms slipped around her waist, as he buried his face against her stomach. "Not you," he pleaded, needing to know she would stay with him. He was weary of people giving up on him. He was tired of believing his father's lies, that he would never be good enough to make anyone happy.
"I'm not leaving," she whispered, through broken tears. "I'll never leave you." Wrapping her arms around his brood shoulders, she hugged him against her. She wished she could ease his suffering, but didn't know how. Knowing how scared he was, she decided to keep talking. All he seemed to need was the reassurance that she wasn't gone.
"You'll never be alone again," she whispered, knowing how badly his past affected him. They had spent many evenings in college talking late into the night about their own problems. She had always, been the one he turned to. Before her, there had been no one else and since her, there had been no one as loyal.
"Thank you," he said, pulling her down to a more comfortable position.
XXXXXX
"Thank you," he said, meeting her watery gaze with his. He knew she understood what he meant.
The guilt Cuddy felt swelled. She understood why he was scared, but she also knew what an amazing person he was. Even if he didn't show it, House cared about people. He cared more than most people understood, but he couldn't handle the pain of losing them. She briefly had the urge to fire every employee who had hurt him, starting with his old team. She knew that wouldn't help now. There was a chance that Dr. Hadley was dying and House didn't know how to accept that.
House smiled, as he felt her lean against him. He knew that her silent support was her way of caring. Pulling her hand to his lips, he kissed it gently. Dropping her hand, he pulled the test results out of his pocket. "She didn't want to know," he said, somberly. Turning to face her, he looked at Cuddy confused. He didn't understand her decision.
Cuddy gave him a warm sympathetic look. Her hand moved to his jaw, as her thumb stroked against his scruff. "Not everyone wants to deal with the truth. Sometimes it's easier to pretend," she tried to explain. She knew his process for dealing with things only worked one way. He may have been a genius, but it was still hard for him to understand other people's processes.
He processed what Cuddy said, but he still didn't agree. The truth didn't just go away if you ignored it. It didn't get better if you refused to deal with it. He had tried all those tactics and more throughout his childhood. The lab results in his hand were still folded closed. He hadn't looked. He wasn't sure why, but it just felt wrong. It wasn't about her privacy or about the fact that the whole test approach had been completely unethical.
"You don't want to know either do you?" Cuddy said, amazed. She had never seen House this way. In his own mind, he didn't see knowing the truth before Thirteen did as something right. "You really care about her, don't you?" Cuddy asked, somewhat understanding.
"I barely know her," House scoffed. They sat in silence for a moment, stewing over the situation. "I want to know," he said, truthfully, "I just don't know if I should know." He searched Cuddy's face, needing an answer.
"You shouldn't," she said, sternly, "It's not your life and it's not your choice." She smiled at him, understanding the severity of the situation. "Whether she does or does not have Huntington's has no value concerning her impact on your life. She's not leaving you, Greg. This isn't the same thing," she urged. The last thing House needed was another reason to shut himself off from the world. "She deserves her privacy," she said, solemnly.
He stared at her blankly for a moment, and then nodded. He wasn't sure if s was right, but when it came to situations like these, he trusted Cuddy's judgment better than his own. He placed the folded piece of paper in her hand and closed her fingers around it. Drawing her to him for a moment, he kissed Cuddy's cheek chastely. "Goodnight," he said, quietly. Determined to stick with her decision, he quickly left to go home.
Cuddy sat on her couch for a few moments. Shakily, she took a deep breath and opened the paper. Seeing the results, her eyes watered. Her hand came to her mouth, trying to hold in the sob that wanted to escape. Alone in her office, Cuddy cried. Her tears didn't stop for nearly twenty minutes, as she thought about the girl, her own life, and House.
She walked to her desk and shoved the results into one of the drawers. Wiping her eyes, she tried to steady herself. Cuddy knew that this was something she had to keep to herself. Until Thirteen was ready, she would hold onto the girl's pain for her. Picking up her pen, she resumed working on the papers still left untouched.