Walk A Little Straighter

A Glimpse

Thanks to mj0621, mowrocks, DrusillaBraun, BlkDiamond, thevigilante15, house addict, HouseAddiction, RHSecretLove, and addicted2coffee.

Sergeant, whatever is so funny? I'm confused.

Disclaimer: I don't own House MD. I just like to play with the characters' lives because it's so much fun.

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Wilson gently knocked on House's apartment door. He hadn't seen House since House had been suspended. There was no answer, yet he could not shake off the sense that something was desperately wrong. He knocked again. He earned the same results. He banged on the door to no avail so he moved away from it and forced it open with all the weight in his body. It flung open, yet no one was in sight.

His ears registered a soft groan and he hurried to the bedroom to find his best friend laying on the floor. He had thrown up all over himself and was now gagging again as another wave of the foul stench of human vomit filled the room.

"Oh my God, House." Wilson exclaimed as he went to his side.

House motioned for him to leave as he threw up again. Wilson saw the empty bottle of Vicadin and the empty bottle of vodka lying right beside each other as if taunting him, telling him that House was unsaveable and dared him to try.

It sickened him to see such a respected doctor in such a state, when he should have known better. Wilson wanted to leave like he did last time, leave House there to wallow in his own mistakes and misery yet something kept him there, holding House's head as his body naturally disposed of the substance that had so dangerously poisoned it. That something was a woman, whose voice had never left Wilson, whose influence and final plead had never ceased to make themselves undeniable in his mind.

"Why are you here?" House demanded, when he could speak. "I thought you hated me in this state."

He tried to make his tone harsh, but his strength was drastically failing. His tone just came out pathetic, especially to his ears.

Wilson shrugged as he wet a towel and held it out to House. He gave House no answer, because he knew the answer would only throw House into a deeper depression than the one he was already drowning in. He did not need her name mentioned nor did he want to hear that she still cared enough to leave stern instructions of his care to the net between their bitter separation.

House slowly took the towel, studying Wilson closely. "You're not here because you care. You're here because you feel guilty."

"Believe what you want." Wilson said, tone on the borderline of angry. "But either way, I'm here, taking care of you, so deal with it."

He pulled out his stethoscope and timed House's heartbeat. It was starting to regain its usual rhythm, but Wilson knew that if he left House alone now, Cuddy would never forgive him. Perhaps Wilson knew that he, himself, still contained strong feelings toward the woman, but he would never admit it. Cuddy had made it clear it was House that was the center of her worry and concern, not him. He should have been glad that he didn't need it, but part of him wished she would show the same affection for him as she did House. Out of his care for her, for her peace of mind, he stayed, making sure House never took another pill or another drink for the rest of the night as his body began to regain its stability and purge itself of the poison he had injected in himself. And it was her face that remained in House's mind as he fought the urge to drown his misery the only way he knew how, with a bottle and drugs.

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She never had time to breathe or to think. At night, she fell into a dreamless sleep the moment she laid her head down from the sheer exhaustion of her life. The truth was…she wouldn't have wanted it any other way. A trip down memory lane would be more than she could handle, more than she could live with. She didn't need the reminders, the pain, or the grief that were so closely associated and just as numerous as the memories she so fondly held at PPTH.

The hectic routine of her life kept her busy, focused, and her mind away from the memories that still lingered in the back of her mind. She didn't give them the time or the chance to creep up onto her from behind. That would mean a momentary weakness, a state she could not afford to be in even for a millisecond.

"Mommy?" A soft voice whimpered, the sweetest voice Cuddy had ever heard, the sound of her own child calling her with love and innocence and childlike expectations.

"Yes sweetheart?" she cooed, picking her one year old daughter out of her crib, cradling her as if she were the most precious cargo in the world.

The child was too young to speak. Her words were limited to 'mommy', 'bottle', and 'poopy', but the child didn't always need words to communicate her needs for Cuddy, being the perfectionist that she was, had read every book she could find on childcare and memorized every line. She was dressed in soft pink baby clothes. She was bundled in a plushy pink blanket with a duck sewn on the front. On the corner were the letters JAC sewn onto it. Cuddy never told anyone, but Wilson was the only one in PPTH that knew she had given birth and the blanket was a gift from him. Her thoughts momentarily traveled to her friend and the cripple that always seemed to accompany her thoughts of PPTH.

The child gurgled and laughed, pulling her from her thoughts. Cuddy felt a smile fill her face as she gently kissed her daughter's forehead. The child only wanted attention, attention that only Cuddy could offer and the only attention that Jessica would accept.

"Jesse!" she cooed, lifting the child up in the air and making silly faces at her, making her giggle harder. Cuddy laughed in return, and played with her daughter until the doorbell rang.

She shifted the child onto her hip and opened it to Stacy's face.

"Hey!" she exclaimed, opening the door further to allow the lawyer access.

"I brought coffee. I mean you've had your baby, you back on the caffeine?" she asked, handing her a warm cup.

Cuddy laughed. "Oh yeah," she replied, taking the cup.

She could not believe her fortune. Of course her life was missing pieces, but she had found pieces she had previously lost. When she had moved to work at Mercy Hospital, she had found out that Stacy had transferred there as well so it was not like she was totally friendless and being Lisa Cuddy, she had formed new friendships that were more stable than her friendships with House and Wilson had been. Stacy was now aunt to her daughter and once again, Cuddy's confident.

"How's my little pipsqueak?" Stacy teased, tickling Jessica.

The baby gurgled as Cuddy handed her over into Stacy's arms. She went led the way into the living room and ripped open the bag of Oreos sitting on her coffee table. Girl's night out, Friday night tradition. Another thing that Cuddy did to take her mind off the bitter recollections left back in New Jersey.