It was a Tuesday night, about 9 o' clock. House was out playing cards with Wilson ("bromance maintenance" he called it) and Rachel was stubbornly refusing to go to sleep. (Cuddy had committed the cardinal sin of letting Rachel nap a little longer than usual. It had been so blissfully peaceful around the house she didn't have the heart to wake her up. She was paying for it now in the form of an extremely hopped-up toddler.)
When the doorbell rang it startled her a bit. House was famous for forgetting his keys, but he had just left a couple of hours ago. No way he'd be home this soon. (Usually, after boy's night out, he staggered in at about 11, reeking of cigarettes and scotch, pawing at her. And usually she said, "eww, you're gross"—until she caved.)
She scooped up Rachel and peered through the peep hole: A woman, pretty, if a bit plain, with a sensible blonde bob, dressed in the flowy bohemia of graduate students, was standing there, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Cuddy didn't recognize her as a neighbor, but she certainly didn't look threatening.
She opened the door.
The woman looked as surprised to see Cuddy as Cuddy had been to see her.
She looked down at a sliver of paper she was holding. It had an address written on it.
"I was told I could find Gregory House here?" she said. She had an accent—German, Cuddy thought. Or maybe Austrian.
Cuddy adjusted Rachel's weight a bit on her hip.
"Usually he is," she said. "But not tonight. He's out. Can I ask what this is about?"
The woman hesitated.
"My name's Lydia. Greg is an old. . .friend."
"I didn't know House had old friends," Cuddy said, with a chuckle.
"We knew each other from . . ." The woman stopped herself, as if she was possibly about to say something out of line.
"Mayfield," Cuddy said, getting it.
"Yes," Lydia smiled—relieved.
"House doesn't talk much about that time," Cuddy said.
"No, I imagine he wouldn't."
Cuddy backed up, to let Lydia in.
"I'm being rude. I'm Lisa. House's girlfriend. And this is Rachel."
"I'm Rachel!" Rachel repeated.
"Hi Rachel," Lydia said, smiling at her, but not budging from the doorstep.
"Do you want to come in? I was just about to make some tea? Or wine if you prefer?"
"No," Lydia said, a bit shyly. "I've already intruded enough."
"Yes. Big intrusion on my exciting, glamorous plans for the evening—which included reading Finklehopper Frog and trying to put this one to bed."
"I'm not sleepy," Rachel said, as way of explanation.
Lydia smiled again.
"I really shouldn't," she said. "But can you do me a favor? Can you tell Greg I'm in town? And give him this number?"
Another slip of paper. Cuddy took it.
"You sure?" she said. "It's really no trouble."
"No, I . . . I better go. Very nice to have met you." And she walked away.
"Weird," Cuddy said, after she was gone.
"Weird," Rachel agreed.
#####
As predicted, House got home a little past 11, smelling of stale beer and smoke. His eyes were a bit glassy and he was in a supremely good mood.
"It's not even fair how good I am at poker," he said, putting his arms around her, and kissing her neck in a sloppy sort of way. "I'm thinking of joining the professional pro poker circuit. I even have a good poker name: Greg 'The Shark' House."
"I thought the whole idea of poker was to trick your opponents into thinking you're not that good," Cuddy said, with a bit of a laugh. "The Shark is something of a dead giveaway."
"Good point," he said. "How bout Greg 'The Guppy' House?"
"Much better," she said.
He grinned. "You're a genius." And he went to kiss her again.
She backed up.
"You had a visitor tonight," she said.
"Like a process server?" he said, only half joking.
"No, a woman. Her name was Lydia."
His grin completely dissolved. He blanched a bit.
"Lydia?" he sputtered.
"I don't think your poker face is quite perfected yet, House," Cuddy said.
"You just…took me by surprise. What did she tell you?"
"That she knew you, from Mayfield."
"That's true," House said cautiously.
"Was she a fellow patient?"
"No, a visitor. Her sister in law was a patient."
Cuddy continued to study his face. He seemed truly flustered—and almost completely sobered up now.
"She described herself as an old friend, but it's clear by the look on your face that she was more."
House looked down.
"We got close," he admitted.
"How close?" Cuddy asked.
"Close," House repeated.
"You slept with this woman?"
"Just once, Cuddy. Just one time."
For some reason, Cuddy felt her eyes begin to sting with tears. She held them back.
"It obviously meant a lot to her—otherwise she wouldn't have shown up at my door a year later."
"Everything is magnified at a mental institution," House explained. "Every relationship takes on greater significance."
Cuddy folded her arms.
"And this significant relationship somehow slipped your mind? That's why this is the first I'm hearing about it?"
"It's not relevant to our lives," House said.
"Seemed pretty fucking relevant when she was standing in my doorway, asking to speak to you."
"She lives in Phoenix. I had no way of knowing she'd drop by."
"How could you keep something like this from me?"
"I didn't think you needed to know," House said.
"How would you feel if I had an affair with somebody and didn't tell you?"
"First of all, this wasn't an affair. I wasn't cheating on anybody. And second of all, didn't you, Cuddy? Didn't you have an affair with somebody and not tell me?"
"Lucas? You're comparing this to Lucas?"
"You lied about him. For months."
"I didn't lie. I just didn't tell you. Because it was none of your business," Cuddy said .
"And Lydia was none of yours."
It felt like a slap. What other secrets was House keeping from her, because they were "none of her business?" She had thought, naively perhaps, that they shared everything.
"Lydia became my business the minute you and I got into a relationship," she said. "And the fact that you didn't tell me about it makes me think it was even more meaningful than you're willing to say."
"When was I supposed to tell you? Over breakfast? 'Please pass the Cheerio's, honey—and oh, by the way, I had a lover at Mayfield?'"
"Oh, so she's a lover now?"
"Technically yes."
"You're a smart guy, House. You could've figured out a way to tell me."
"Do you need all about my sex partners? Because it might require a computer program."
"Don't be a pig."
"I'm sorry. It just hope it's not a news flash to you that I've slept with my fair share of women."
"It's not the fact that you had sex with her—it's the fact that you lied about it!"
He gave her a knowing look.
"Women always say that. But it's bullshit. You're not upset I didn't tell you. You're upset because I had sex with her."
"You don't get to tell me why I'm upset!" Cuddy barked.
"And you don't get to tell me what aspects of my life I'm required to share with you."
They glared at each other.
"I want you to go!" Cuddy said, pointing to the door.
"It's moments like these when I'm glad we haven't finalized our plans to move in together," House said, angrily. "Every time you're even slightly pissed at me, you banish me from your home like fucking Marie Antoinette."
"I'm more than slightly pissed," Cuddy said.
House rolled his eyes.
"That makes two of us," he said.
He started to storm out, then stopped.
"Did she leave a number?" he said.
#####
He knew that seeing Lydia was not the brightest move, boyfriend-wise, but he felt he owed it to her—and to himself.
Briefly, when he was at Mayfield, he thought he was in love with her. But he now knew that wasn't the case.
Still, she had been important to him—an oasis of sanity and serenity in the midst of all that chaos. And more than that, she took comfort in him. Saw him as someone who gave her strength and maybe some serenity, too. It was nice to be needed like that. To be wanted like that.
It made him feel less alone.
She was already at the restaurant, waiting for him at a table. She was lovely, he thought. Different from Cuddy, whose beauty and sex appeal positively radiated off her. Lydia had a quiet, understated beauty. She could be invisible if she wanted. Yet another thing he had liked about her.
"Hi," he said, sitting down across from her, smiling.
"Hi," she said, smiling back.
"You look good," they said, in unison.
"Your hair has grown out," Lydia said. "I like it."
"Thanks. I've moved on from Institutionalized Chic."
They took each other in for a moment.
"So what are you doing in town?" House asked.
"Visiting family."
"Everyone good? The kids? Your sister in law?"
"Everyone's good. My sister in law is making great progress. She's even begun taking back some of her old cello students."
"That's wonderful," House said, sincerely. "And your . . . husband?"
Lydia looked down at the table.
"Still in the picture," she said. "He's back in Phoenix with the kids."
"So this is . . .? "
"Me wanting to see you again. Simple as that. I confess, I didn't know you had a girlfriend."
"Cuddy," he said.
"She's just beautiful, Greg. Just stunning."
He looked down at the table.
"Yeah."
"I hope my presence didn't cause any friction between you two."
"No," he said. "Unless by friction you mean, we had a big fight and then she kicked me out. In which case, yes."
"I'm so sorry."
"No worries. We'll be fine… I hope."
Lydia smiled.
"Tell me about her."
"Who? Cuddy?"
"Yeah."
"You don't want to hear about her."
"Actually I do. I like that you call each other by your last names, by the way. It's sexy. You're like characters in a detective novel."
"I never thought of it like that," he chuckled.
"How long have you known her?"
"Forever it seems. Since med school. We had a brief fling, I guess you could say. I thought she was the hottest piece of a—"
He caught himself. "I was very attracted to her," he finished. "And then she hired me to work for her 15 years ago."
"Work for her?"
"She's my boss at the hospital. She's the Dean of Medicine."
"Sounds important."
"It is. She is. She was named Dean when she was 30 years old," he boasted. "Youngest dean of a major hospital in the country. Male or female."
"You're proud of her."
"Extremely," he said.
"Tell me more," Lydia said.
"Like what?"
"Like what she's like. I want to know about the woman who has captured Gregory House's heart."
"She's the strongest woman I know," House said. "But she has this vulnerability, you know? It's a side that most people don't get to see."
"Except for you," Lydia said.
"Yeah," House said. "She thinks she's incredibly funny. But she's not. She can't tell a joke to save her life. But she has this laugh—this incredible laugh. I could listen to her laugh all day."
He was lost for a second in reverie, thinking of Cuddy's laugh.
"It seems like you love her a lot."
He looked up. He was being a jerk.
"I didn't mean to babble about my girlfriend," he said.
"You didn't. I asked."
He smiled.
"She makes me happy. That is, when she's not making me miserable."
"How is she going to react to our little lunch?"
"To be honest, I have no clue," he said.
######
He called Cuddy, that night.
"Hi," she said.
He could tell from the tone of her voice that she had thawed, just the tiniest bit.
He was about to screw that up royally.
"I'm sorry about last night," he said.
"Me too. I overreacted."
"But there's something I have to tell you."
"What?"
A tiny edge back in her voice.
"I saw Lydia. Yesterday. We had lunch."
"Just lunch?"
"Well, sex after lunch."
"House!"
"Jesus, I'm kidding. Obviously just lunch."
"Suddenly I'm not so sure."
"Cuddy, c'mon. Would I really have told you if I actually slept with her? I mean, use your head."
"I don't know anymore. I don't what you feel is any of my business."
"Don't start this again."
"I'm not starting anything. I'm not the one who had lunch with an old lover."
"I felt I owed it to her."
"Why?"
"Because . . . she meant something to me. She doesn't now. But she did, briefly, mean a lot."
Cuddy sighed.
"I'm such an idiot," she said.
"Why would you say that?"
"I actually had the ego to think you were already in love with me when you went to Mayfield."
"I was."
"You have a funny way of showing it."
"Cuddy, I was lonely. Scared. It's not like you ever came to visit me. Or even called."
"I was giving you your space! I figured you'd call me when you were ready."
"You could've sent up a flare. Anything to say, I don't think you're a freak, House."
"You know I didn't think you were a freak."
"How would I know anything? All I knew is that the last thing that happened between us was you found out about my hallucination and you bailed. Then you never wrote or called. And then you fell into the bed of one of my only two friends."
"House, that's not fair. That is a gross misrepresentation of what occurred."
"Really Cuddy?"
"I was lonely and scared, too."
"What were you so scared of?"
"Of you. Of. . .my feelings for you. Of your feelings for me."
"Because who wants to be in love with a crazy guy, right?"
"That's not what I meant."
"Yeah, right."
"A drug fueled hallucination isn't real House. I didn't know what we were to each other. And if I had any doubts about our relationship, you certainly confirmed my worst fears by hopping into bed with the first woman who was willing to spread her legs for you."
"Take that back."
"Oh, have I offended your precious Lydia?"
"She doesn't deserve that. She's a good woman."
"Who took advantage of a man in a mental institution."
"She didn't take advantage. She needed me as much as I needed her."
"Well, maybe you two can find comfort in each other again."
And she slammed the phone.
#####
Four days later, Chase wandered into Wilson's office.
"You gotta do something," he said.
"About what?"
"About House and Cuddy. They're in a huge fight and it's making everyone miserable."
Wilson chuckled.
"House has been particularly toxic lately."
"House is always toxic. Right now, he's nuclear. And it's not just him. It's her too. She's making the doctors do extra clinic hours and submit paperwork in triplicate. She's been chewing out nurses. She's been totally busting everyone's balls."
"What do you want me to about it?"
"Talk to them. Or better still, get them to talk to each other."
"Yes, because along with being their friend, I'm also their couples counselor."
"Aren't you?" Chase said, cocking his head a bit.
"Not technically," Wilson sighed.
"Well, you've got to do something. I don't know how much more of this the hospital can take."
#####
That night, Wilson knocked on Cuddy's door.
She answered, looking like shit—well, as much as Lisa Cuddy could ever look like shit—with fly-away hair and bags under eyes.
"Hello sunshine!" he said.
"Very funny."
He folded his arms, somewhat disapprovingly.
"What are you doing Cuddy?"
"I'm drinking tea and reading the latest Jennifer Egan novel. What are you doing?"
"I meant with House."
"I know what you meant."
"I just came from his place."
"You did?" She perked up a bit.
"Yes, and he looks as miserable as you do. More so, if possible."
She shrugged.
"He just wants to come home. Those were his exact words. I just want to come home."
"He knows how to pick up the telephone," she said.
"He thinks you're mad at him."
"I am. . . I was."
"Why?"
"Did you know about Lydia?"
"Yes."
"Of course."
"I'm not going to say she meant nothing to him because that would be a lie. But I will say this, without House and Lydia, there may never have been a House and Cuddy. She made him feel whole again."
"Remind me to send her a thank you note," she said dryly.
"He's not pining away for Lydia right now. He's pining away for you."
She bit a nail.
"I know," she said. "But do you know he saw her? Last week? They had lunch."
"He told me all he did was brag about you the whole time."
"Really?"
"Really Cuddy. You can't possibly think that woman's a threat to you."
"No," she sighed. "I suppose not."
"He's crazy in love with you. And unless I'm mistaken, you're crazy in love with him."
"I am," she said. "But he lied to me. And then he went behind my back and had lunch with her!"
'And told you about it. He didn't have to do that. You would never have known. It was his way of showing you that he wasn't going to withhold things anymore. And it totally backfired on him."
Cuddy looked up at him. He had a point.
She shook her head ruefully.
"We're a couple of idiots aren't we?"
"Colossal idiots," Wilson said, smiling.
"He really talked about me the whole lunch?"
"That's what he said. He said Lydia now knows your entire life story."
Cuddy smiled, in a quiet sort of way. This news made her unreasonably happy.
"If you want to go to his place, I can stay here and watch Rachel," Wilson said, looking around.
"She's not here," Cuddy said. "I was dangerously approaching 'No More Wire Hangers!' territory so I drove her over to Julia's for her own protection."
"Better still."
Cuddy nodded slowly.
"You're right, Wilson. I've been a stubborn ass. I'm going to go get my man."
"Atta girl."
#####
She was driving down Fairview Road, on her way to House's apartment, when she saw a motorcycle approaching. She recognized the posture of the tall, lanky man on the bike more than the bike itself.
She pulled over. He must've recognized her, too, because he (rather recklessly) cut across two lanes and parked the bike along the side of the road.
She unlocked her passenger door and let him in.
"I was just coming to see you," she said.
"Funny coincidence that," he said. "Because I was just coming to see you."
"Less a coincidence and more the direct result of the Meddling Oncologist, I'd say," Cuddy said.
"He is a world class meddler," House agreed.
They looked at each other.
"I'm sorry," they blurted out, in unison.
"No, I'm sorry," House said. "I should've told you about Lydia. It was wrong."
Cuddy bit her lip thoughtfully.
"Actually, I disagree. It wasn't wrong. You were right. Lydia has nothing to do with us. And you're allowed to have private things."
"Agreed. But not stuff like that."
Cuddy chuckled.
"Now I find myself in the unexpected position of defending your choice to keep secrets from me."
"Never saw that coming," he said, chuckling back.
"House, I'm sorry I never visited you at Mayfield. I wish I had."
"I don't."
She looked up at him, surprised.
"You don't?"
"No. Because I wasn't ready to be a good boyfriend to you yet. And I sure as hell wasn't ready to be any kind of father figure—or whatever the hell I am—to Rachel. To be honest, I'm almost grateful for Lucas. Almost."
"What? This truly is bizarro day," Cuddy said.
"What I mean is, I wouldn't change anything about our lives together. About how long it took for us to get together. About anything. It's perfect the way it is."
"It is," she agreed, and blinked back a tear.
She leaned over and kissed him on the mouth.
It was supposed to be a tender kiss—a wait-til-we-get-home-so-we-can-do-this-properly kiss—but it had been so long since they'd touched, and they were both feeling so in love and so needy, they grasped at each other.
Suddenly, House's hands were all over and pulling up her skirt and reaching for her ass, and she had climbed into the passenger seat, straddling him, and he reclined the seat and he was kissing her neck and her breasts and she was unbuttoning his jeans and, in moments, he was inside her.
Normally, at a time like this, she'd worry about the logistics of his leg, but in the fog of her own arousal, she'd forgotten all about it and she grinded against him, and obviously he had forgotten too because he was moaning her name and saying "oh my God" over and over again, until the pressure that had built up between them—emotionally and physically—bubbled over and they both came, loudly.
"God, I love you so much," he whispered in her ear. Was she imagining it, or were there tears in his eyes?
"I love you too."
"Let's never fight again."
"Never," she teased.
"I'm serious," he said, like a stubborn little boy. And he pulled her closer.
They lay there like that for a few minutes, coated in sweat, nearly sticking to each other.
Finally, she crawled off him and for the first time, he let out a little grunt of pain.
"Your leg?" she said.
"Just a twinge," he said.
"Sorry."
"So worth it," he said, smiling.
"Meet you back at my place?" she said, with a flirty raise of her eyebrows that suggested there might be more where this came from.
He looked at his bike, which was parked just a few feet away, but it seemed to him like it was in another time zone.
He didn't want to leave her car, or her side, ever again.
"I'll get my bike tomorrow," he said.
She nodded at him. She understood.
"Then let's go home."
THE END