Title: Loose Ends
Chapter one: Sometimes the Guy Breaking into your house isn't your friend.
Disclaimer: No, I don't own them either. Damn.
Description:Tritter shows up to throw some petty harassment Cuddy's way. She shows him why you don't mess with The Dean.
A/N setting is late S3, Rated T for violence and some language, vaguely pre-Human Error. Cuddy, House, Wilson and everyone else, the reason for this story is that I was never happy with how the Tritter arc resolved. Cuddy perjures herself and House gets away and Tritter says "gee shucks" and gives up? Reviews are love and Concrit and pointing out errors (as I don't have a beta reader yet) are doubly so.
:::::::::::::::::Part One:::::::::::
Her eyes flicked open. The room was dark and she didn't know what had woken her. The clock face glowed pale blue at her, insisting that it was 2:30am and that she should still be sleeping. She groaned and buried her face in her pillow. She liked sleep, but didn't always get a lot of it. You wanted to be a doctor, you wanted to be the best, she chided herself. You knew it would eat into nap time. She growled low and banished the voice to the back of her mind.
The slow groan of the living room shutters being pulled open told her what had woken her; someone is breaking in, again. Lisa Cuddy sighed deeply, pushing back the covers and slipping quietly out of her bed. House loved to keep her off balance, and lately he'd been taking it to new extremes, interrupting her dates, showing up at all hours in, what she could only assume, was a twisted attempt to monitor her sex life. Like I'm ever gonna have one of those again, she thought morosely. She padded down the hall to the living room, it wouldn't be hard to catch him, he'd have to go slow with his bum leg and the cane.
She paused a moment, outside the room listening to the light rustle of movement.
"Breaking and entering without a medical motive, that's a stretch even for you—" she flicked the overhead light on, and stared in shock at the two men in dark clothing who were blinking through their ski masks at the sudden glare.
"Who the hell are you?" She demanded. They were both around six feet tall but heavily built. They were both staring at her like landed trout and they were standing between her and the door and the phone her inner voice pointed out urgently go!
She turned and ran, feeling the adrenalin hit her heart like a hammer and being happy about it, noting distantly that even after millions of years of evolution the flight or flight response was still damn useful.She skidded running into the French doors in her bedroom, but they led to the patio, Nope, walls are too high, the window. She lunged to the other side of the room even as the two men burst in behind her, she could hear them hissing urgently to each other but she didn't pay attention, all her focus was on escape. She slammed the latch with her palm and heaved upwards on the sash with all her own strength and the extra oomph from the adrenaline.
The sash didn't budge.
She felt a hand swat hard at her arm and she spun slamming into the dresser facing the figure in black, it spoke harshly "Don't—"
Her hand grazed the dresser top clutching the first thing it touched. She threw it at the man who'd tried to grab her with all her might. White talcum powder exploded all over him
"Bitch!' He sounded surprised
"Man put her down!" the other figure hissed.
Cuddy scrabbled backwards but there was nowhere to go, a hard hand grabbed her throat and a harder fist slammed into her face,
and again,
and again,
when the darkness swept up she was grateful.
The pain woke her, she was lying on the floor in the dark and she hurt, oh god it hurt---
Yeah, and? What hurts, you're a doctor, remember?
When she was working she always seemed to hear the voice of the medical student who'd run her human anatomy lab section in college. He'd been thorough, precise, focused, clinical, brutal and rude. She'd learned more about how to think in that lab then in any other class she'd had, and years later, it was still that voice in her head when the problems got knotty or painful, throwing out insults and advice.
Of course most days she heard it with her ears too.
She took a breath. Willing her mind to focus and pushing everything else aside. The breath hurt for one thing. Sharp, stabbing
Broken rib, we'll get back to it. Start at the bottom.
Feet and legs felt ok. She gently pressed her hands against her hips. Left Hip had sharp soreness probably from hitting the edge of the dresser, Superficial, next?
She was still wearing her pajama bottoms; there was no pain from the vagina or rectum.
You weren't raped, mazeltov, what about that ribcage?
She ran her hands over her ribs, pressing gently, bruising and maybe a cracked rib. Breath was shallow, deep breath possible but painful. She coughed deliberately forcing air deep into her lungs. It hurt like hell
Must have kicked you when you were down. Get an x-ray later. Keep going we're getting to the good stuff.
Arms and hands were scraped and sore, upper chest seemed fine, The neck, she was very careful here, exploring gently with her fingers, knowing that she was going to have a black ring of finger prints around her neck for the next couple of days.
There doesn't appear to be serious trauma. Spine seems ok, X-ray that too though and a CT.
The jaw hurt like hell. Not dislocated but badly bruised along the maxilla up to the zygomatic arch and the occipital bone the whole left side of her face was a huge painful throb.
The asshole was a right hander.
No blood in her mouth, she ran her tongue over her teeth but nothing seemed loose. Her nose was tender and bloody but, she massaged the cartilage gently, not broken. She ran her hands over her head but didn't feel any lumps, bumps or breaks in her scalp.
You're going to look like a poster child for battered wife syndrome but you'll live. Call the cops and an ambulance.
Struggling to her feet she flicked on the lights. and tried not to cry at the devastation. Her mattress had been torn from the bed. Her jewelry box was lying empty on the floor, her clothes had been tossed out of her dresser and lay scattered everywhere covered in talcum powder residue.
That was a stupid thing to throw.
Shut up House. She thought at the voice as she hobbled to the phone and dialed 911.The clock from her bedside table claimed it was 3:30am.
She turned on lights, pulled on sweats, very carefully, and went to her living room to wait. This was harder than normal to do without the TV, computer or stereo for company.
At 4am she called 911 back.
At 5:30 her phone rang.
"Dr. Cuddy." The voice was familiar deep gravelly and very smug. "I hear you've been phoning in false reports to the 911 operator."
"Detective Tritter," She said numbly, closing her eyes.
This just keeps getting better and better.
"Dr. Cuddy the last time I saw you, you lied under oath, now a person who is willing to lie under oath is like… the little girl who cried wolf. How can you believe a word she says?"
Cuddy hung up the phone abruptly, buried her sore face in her hands and started to cry