Title: The Tide Ebbs and Flows
Pairing: Cuddy/OC
Rating: M, for language and sexual situations
Synopsis: When Cuddy attends a medical conference, someone from her past reappears. How will it affect House and Cuddy?
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine.
Notes: Written as an examination of House and Cuddy's fraught relationship, this also serves as writing practice and therapy. This uses events from Season 4, but does not follow it.
THE apparition of these faces in a crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.
-Ezra Pound, "In a Station of the Metro"
But out of that swinishness there was bound to come reaction, and out of the reaction there was bound to flow a desire to re-examine the whole national pretension-to turn on the light, to reject old formulae, to think things out anew and in terms of reality.
-H.L. Mencken, "The American Novel"
One: An Argument for Imperialism
House was humming "The Imperial March" on his way to Cuddy's office. He had been testier than usual this morning because (a) his patient was dying, (b) his potential fellows were all idiots, and (c) his leg was throbbing. He thought that his leg pain might probably be due to both (a) and (b), but it didn't really matter right now. He needed Cuddy's approval for a medical procedure, and he was determined to get it. Besides, he found it odd that she hasn't nagged him all morning to get him to fulfill his quota of clinic hours. And, well, that just means he hasn't seen her all day-or at least, parts of her (which he told himself lately).
As he limped doggedly across the clinic to Cuddy's office, her assistant immediately sprang up to stop him. She told him feebly, "Doctor House, Doctor Cuddy's-"
"Don't care what she said. I need to go inside. Right now." He didn't even glance once at Cuddy's assistant. He chose, instead, to open the doors to her office. An unwelcome sight was now seated on her chair behind her desk. It was Dr. Taylor, who was balding, in his mid-50s, and was usually Cuddy's stand-in when she was away.
"Where's Cuddy?" he told the older man gruffly, gripping his cane. This wasn't good. He and Dr. Taylor never agreed on anything, and maybe that was precisely why Cuddy constantly chose him as her substitute.
"Oh, she hasn't told you?" there was more than a tinge of malice in Dr. Taylor's tone. He leaned back on her chair. If this was Cuddy, House would be hoping that she would place her crossed legs on her desk, as she was wont to do at times. But she wasn't here. "She's away in a medical conference for th-"
House nodded several times and made gestures with his free hand. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. The deets aren't important. I need a liver biopsy of my patient, blah-blah-blah. Will you sign off on the procedure or not?"
Dr. Taylor leaned on Cuddy's desk and flexed his fingers. "Hmm. Let's see. Your patient who's dying as we speak? Fill out the forms first, and then explain why." Taylor was a smug son-of-a-bitch, House thought.
"Jesus, you're a pain in the ass. Typically, when I use the term 'sign off', I don't actually mean that there would be actual signing. Let me tell you how this usually goes," his tone was now deliberately condescending. He was practically talking to a preschooler. Or a senile old man, since that was more appropriate. "I go to Cuddy's office, I yell, she yells, and it depends on her mood if she says yes or no. Capisce?"
"Doctor Cuddy already told me how it goes," he says, mimicking House. "Since she left me in charge, I won't approve anything unless you fill out the forms. Have any of your many fellows fill them out for you, I don't care. It's a prerequisite for every procedure. I'll decide then." It was a standoff. An unstoppable force meets an immoveable object. And House grudgingly appreciated that.
"Oh, you're good. I gotta tell you, though, that all this bureaucratic crap will increase the chances of my patient dying," he emphasized. He didn't have time for this.
"I'm well-aware. Come back to my office once you have the forms and an explanation. Good day, Dr. House." Taylor was being dismissive. And it made House closer to irate by the second. What's more infuriating was that he was delusional.
"Wait. Pronoun confusion. This isn't your office, and it won't be anytime soon." It really was Cuddy's office; Taylor was merely acting as a temp.
"Good day, Dr. House." Taylor was obviously threatened.
As House strides across Cuddy's office, he turns to Dr. Taylor who had his arms crossed. "Just because mommy let you babysit for a while doesn't mean that you're in control."
Wilson was trying to comfort a patient of his on the phone. They had been talking for more than an hour, and Wilson was trying to reassure the man. Without warning, House opens his door unceremoniously (like usual), looking gleeful.
"Wilson! Darth Vader's dead!" House announces loudly as he slams the door. Wilson winces. As always, House had perfect timing.
"Could you excuse me for a moment, Mr. Vernon? A patient from the psych ward's roaming around my floor. Again." Wilson glared at House. "Now, remember to take them and call me if anything becomes painful. Have a good day." He places the handset of his office phone carefully on the cradle. He never knew what to expect from House. Never.
House sits on the chair in front of Wilson's desk. "The Empire will not strike back. For now."
Wilson chuckles, amusement replacing irritation. "What the hell are you talking about, House?"
"I didn't know Cuddy would be away on a medical conference." House bends down to place his head on his cane.
So this was about Cuddy. "She sent out a memo a week ago. Not that you read those."
House takes Wilson's statement and dissects it. So, Cuddy sent an official memo a week ago, knowing that House would never read hospital memos by choice. Interesting. "Isn't it odd that she never told us?" It was odd. The three of them weren't exactly the best of friends, but Cuddy always made it a point to inform House and Wilson about pertinent information. Was she hiding something?
"She did. Well, not us. She told me on Monday." Wilson wasn't avoiding looking at House. Odd indeed.
"And you didn't tell me?" House exclaimed. "What's with all the sly dog antics? Is she really away on official business or is she on vacation?"
"She's in a medical conference and she'll be back on Tuesday. I didn't tell you because she seemed to be looking forward to it." Wilson merely shrugged. He was a bastard, House concluded. What other secrets did these two keep from him?
"Well, that's a shame," House leans back on the chair. "If she was actually on vacation, that would've been more fun. So you didn't tell me because she's all giddy about it?"
"Yes, House. I didn't want you messing around with her hotel reservations or anything else, because she genuinely wants to attend. She deserves a break. Not that it's actually a break," Wilson justifies.
Realization dawns on House and he sits up straight. "Wait. You're protecting her from me," he says, pointing his cane at Wilson. "I'm flattered that you think of me that way. You have such high expectations. Does this mean you're trying to get into her pants?" House is suspicious. Wilson had invited Cuddy to a play and an art exhibit before.
Wilson gets flustered at his statement. "Just because I want Cuddy to enjoy the conference, doesn't mean that I want to sleep with her."
House stops twirling his cane. "Of course you want to sleep with her! Every straight guy, lesbian, or bisexual wants to sleep with her. For instance, I hate her yet I want to have my way with her in bed. You, on the other hand, want her whipping you-"
"I get it!" Wilson cuts House off. His face was pink now, as were his ears. He has to agree, though. Everyone, himself included, has a fantasy or two about Cuddy. "Let's be clear, House. I didn't tell you about the conference not because I want her to be wife number four. If you've read her memo, she didn't really divulge any details. But we had lunch four days ago, and I asked her about the conference. She was really happy about it. Excited. I've never seen her so…relaxed. She looked so-I decided not to tell you, obviously."
"She looked so what, Wilson?" Oh, for Christ's sake.
Wilson was struggling with words. He actually meant to say that his boss looked so beautiful, but House would take it the wrong way. "So serene! I thought she was really pretty! That doesn't mean I did what I did because I was trying to sleep with her!" Wilson blurted out.
House didn't know what to feel. His best friend just used the terms 'serene' and 'pretty' to describe not just any woman, but Cuddy. His best friend chose not to mention a particular detail about Cuddy. Cuddy told Wilson of her whereabouts. "You're attracted to her!" House accused. "You're actually attracted to her! To Cuddy!"
"What?! No-yes-no!" Wilson was shaking his head furiously. "House, god damn it! Stop screwing with my mind!"
A yes was sandwiched between two noes, House noted. "Did you tell anyone else?" House said nonchalantly.
Wilson was a bit calmer now. "Of course not! If I did, you'd find out eventually."
House decided to ignore his friend's suspicious behavior for a moment. "Where's the conference?"
"If I tell you that it's in Vegas, would you even believe me?" Wilson begins.
Wilson was being difficult. Time to try another tactic, House thought. "She didn't invite any other doctor?" He pouted. Cuddy didn't even invite him.
"The conference is quite specific. I mean, no one would like to go to a convention on managing a hospital. Except those who actually do it." Wilson shrugged again. Bingo, House thought. Time to close the deal.
House cringed. "God, they'd probably have doctors with MBAs. They're not actual doctors, Wilson. They're managers with medical degrees. So. Lame." House rolls his eyes.
"She's presenting twice, though." Wilson perked up. House leaned back on his chair, closed his eyes, and let his cane fall on the carpeted floor. "She was telling me about her paper on-"
Snor.
House pretended to 'wake up'. "Oh, was I asleep? I don't care about the stupid conference." He lifts his cane from the floor and stands up. "Wanna get a snack?"
"I have a patient in twenty minutes. Don't you have a patient?"
House moves towards Wilson's office door. "Ugh. Why does everyone have a stick up their ass?" He purposely leaves the door open, just because he knows how Wilson gets when he does that.
As he walks to his own office, he runs his tongue over his bottom lip. Now that he's narrowed down what kind of medical conference Cuddy's attending, he can google where she's at. He whistles "The Imperial March".