Dividing Troubles

By Ellie J.

Disclaimer: I do not own House M.D. or any of its characters. This story is purely for fun. Please don't sue me.

A/N: There. The damn plot bunny has been silenced. Now maybe it will let me work on the next chapter of K&K.

Cuddy sat at her desk staring at, but not really seeing, the paperwork in front of her. She was so damn tired of … everything. She was tired of Tritter and his power plays. She was tired of Wilson and his rationalizations. And she was certainly tired of House and his temper tantrums.

House. She crumpled up a piece of paper and threw it in the garbage can. It felt like she had been spending all of her time lately trying to keep him from completely self destructing. When had he taken over so much of her life?

And then there was Wilson and his 'brilliant' plan. Cuddy could have easily shot him after he had gone to Tritter to make a deal. Why had he forgotten that the surest way to get House to not do something was to try and force him to do it?

Her cell phone began to ring from the depths of her purse and she rummaged around a bit before finding and answering it.

"Yes."

"Lisa," Wilson said over the phone. "You need … you need to get over to House's and watch him. Now."

Cuddy's heart began to race at Wilson's tone. "What happened?" she asked as she rushed to grab her coat.

"He OD'd. On oxycodone."

Cuddy froze as Wilson's words washed over her. "Oh my God! How is he?"

"He's alive and I think he's over the worst of it. It looks like he managed to throw most of it up. You need to get there and make sure that he stays all right."

"There. What do you mean there? You left him alone!"

"I can't… He took the pills from one of my patients who had just died. I can't be with him right now."

"Wilson, he needs to be watched to make sure his blood pressure doesn't bottom out! You know that!"

"And that's why I'm calling you. I would call for an ambulance, but then Tritter would find out and then I don't know what would happen." He paused and Cuddy could hear him take an anguished breath. "Lisa, I'm afraid that if I'm alone with him right now … I don't know what I'd do. What I'd say. Look, I left the door unlocked. You shouldn't have any problems getting in." Cuddy wrestled to gain control of her temper. She didn't have time to be yelling at Wilson right now.

"All right. I'm on my way," she told him and abruptly hung up. She made a quick stop to stock her medical bag and headed straight for House's place, breaking several traffic laws on the way there.

She parked haphazardly and ran into his building. The door to his apartment was open, as Wilson had left it. The smell of vomit filled the room. Cuddy closed the door behind her and scanned the room. She walked around the couch and saw him huddled on his side next to an overturned light. She ran over and kneeled down next to him, gently turning him over so that she could feel his pulse. His skin was cold and clammy to the touch. His eyes flickered open, but they were having a difficult time focusing on her.

"You stupid son of a bitch," she whispered to him as she grabbed her cuff and stethoscope from the medical bag that she had brought with her. He managed one humorless chuckle as she quickly took his blood pressure. It was a little low, which was to be expected, but not as bad as she had feared. He also seemed to be breathing all right, and she allowed herself to relax a little.

"Do you want to try and lie down on the couch?" she asked quietly. His eyes were closed, but he managed a slight nod. She moved the pillows on his couch over to the far side and then knelt down. She wrapped her arms around him to help ease him into a sitting position and allowed him to rest for a moment before helping him up the rest of the way. He leaned back against the armrest and she moved to place his legs on top of the pillows that she had just moved over. When she looked back, she noticed that he was staring at her.

"Wilson," he whispered.

She nodded and knelt down next to him. "Your BP is low, but not dangerously low. I'm going to check it often. If I think for one moment that your life is in danger, I'm going to call 911, consequences with Tritter be damned."

He nodded weakly. "You're the boss. At least until I go to prison. Then someone else will be my boss. Somehow I don't think smartass cripples rate highly in the prison hierarchy." Cuddy rolled her eyes. Only House would talk this much after an overdose.

"You should have thought of that when you refused to take the deal."

"You know why I didn't take the deal."

"That doesn't mean that I don't think you're an idiot."

He looked away, a sad mulish expression on his face.

Cuddy sighed and went to the kitchen to get a damp rag. She returned and gently began to clean his face. He gave her a small smile.

"I can't believe you waited to fulfill my sponge bath fantasies until I'm physically incapable of doing anything about it," he murmured.

Cuddy snorted and smiled, despite the situation. "Yes, because dried, crusty vomit is such a turn on."

"Well I'm not one to judge other people's kinks," he said a little shakily. Cuddy frowned as she noticed that he had gotten a little paler and took his blood pressure again. She frowned at the results.

"It's dropped a little. I'm going to give you something, but if it doesn't work, you're going in," she told him seriously.

He frowned but didn't say anything as she gave him an injection. Cuddy examined his face when she was done, and the reality of how close he had come to dying threatened to overwhelm her. She looked away, struggling for control, but the bandage on his arm caught her attention. Cuddy lightly traced its edges as a solitary tear meandered down her cheek. House moved his arm away, and she looked up to meet the forceful blue of his eyes.

"Endorphins," he said shortly.

"I know."

His eyes narrowed. "You sent Cameron." It wasn't a question.

She nodded as she met his gaze. "I needed to make sure that you were all right."

"And to pick my brain for ideas," he said angrily.

Cuddy's temper snapped. "Yes, God forbid that I want to try and save a patient and make sure that you're all right at the same time."

"You could have just given me my meds!"

"House, once Wilson made that deal, I had to try and do everything in my power to get you to take it."

"God forbid that you should try and pick a side," he said, mocking her earlier words.

"House, you stole Wilson's prescription pad and wrote yourself prescriptions for narcotics. You committed a crime. You're a freaking genius, House. Why don't you get that?"

"I was in pain."

"Then why didn't you just ask Wilson for the prescription? You know he would have written you one."

"It was …" he stopped and stared at the ceiling. Cuddy thought she saw tears in his eyes, but looked away before she could be sure.

"It was …" she hesitantly prodded.

"I didn't want anyone to know that the ketamine had stopped working. I didn't want everyone feeling sorry for the poor relapsed cripple," he whispered, still not looking at her.

Cuddy had no idea what to say to that. She tentatively reached out and took his hand into hers. For a moment, he stiffened as if he were going to pull away, but at the last second stopped and let his hand relax in her gentle grasp.

"I don't want you to go to prison," she whispered after a few moments had passed. "I don't want you to lose your license. I want you to stay at the hospital and keep on doing what you do best: making people better while annoying the hell out of them. And at this point, taking the deal is the only way I can see that happening. I know this goes against every fiber of your being, but, House, this time you need to compromise."

He remained silent. Cuddy sighed and let go of his hand to take his blood pressure again. She was relieved to see that it was almost normal. The empty bottle of scotch caught her eye as she put away her instruments, and she looked down at the empty pill bottle that was still on the floor.

"House," she whispered, not wanting to ask, but needing to know the answer anyway. "Was it an accidental overdose, or … were you trying to kill yourself?"

He was silent for a few seconds, and Cuddy was about to ask again when she heard a faint, "I don't know." She looked up and met his gaze, but didn't say anything. He continued. "I knew it was a risk when I finished both bottles. I just … couldn't seem to bring myself to care one way or the other. If I lived, then I lived. And if I died … then everyone's problems would be solved," he said, not trying to hide his bitterness.

Cuddy looked away, angry and sad and frustrated all at the same time. "You listen to me House," she said as she turned back to him, her voice thick with tears. "Your death would not solve anyone's problems. It would just be a big waste."

He seemed surprised at the vehemence in her tone.

"I don't want to go to Rehab," he finally said, looking back at the ceiling.

"I would think that you want to go to prison even less."

"I don't compromise very well."

"I know," she said with a hint of sad laughter in her voice.

"The deal with Tritter expires tonight. If I'm going to take it, then I'm going to need some help getting ready."

Her eyes widened in shock, but she quickly answered him. "That shouldn't be a problem. Let's make sure your BP stays normal, and then I'll help you get cleaned up. Do you have a shower chair? And don't even think about arguing. I don't want you to use what little energy you have standing in the shower so that you can fall on your face in front of Tritter."

He flicked an annoyed glance at her but nodded. "It's in the back of my closet somewhere."

She went to his bedroom to go look for the shower chair. She found it underneath a huge pile of Playboy magazines in the very back of his closet. Cuddy smirked as she placed the magazines on his night table. She took the chair and sat it in the shower and went back to the living room.

House was sitting up on the couch. She sat down next to him and took his blood pressure again. It was still normal. Cuddy then silently helped him walk to the bathroom. She looked up at him expectantly when they got there.

"I can take it from here," he told her. She waited a moment for some sort of sexual comment, but none was forthcoming.

"Call me if you need anything," she told him and left him there. She waited outside for a moment until she heard him start the shower and then headed back to his living room. One glance at the vomit stained floor led her to the kitchen to look for some cleaning supplies. She was surprised when she actually found some and then went to work straightening out the mess, keeping one ear tuned to the noises coming from the bathroom. She had just finished wiping the last of the cleaner from the carpet when she heard the shower stop.

Cuddy grabbed his cane from the living room floor where it laid and went to the bathroom door and waited. He opened the door, wearing a towel around his waist, and she handed him his cane. He nodded his thanks as he took it.

"Do you need any help getting ready?" she asked.

The missing leer from earlier found its way to his face. "I knew you were looking for any excuse to touch my hot bod. Disappointed that I didn't need your help in the shower?"

"Heartbroken," she said dryly and waited for his real answer.

"I can do it," he responded in a stubborn voice. She nodded and went back to the living room to wait for him.

He came out a few minutes later wearing clean clothes. House looked at her expectantly. "I assume that you're taking me to the Police Department."

"Of course," she told him and handed him his coat as they left his apartment.

"Nice parking job," he said as they approached her crookedly parked car.

"Yeah, well Wilson scared the shit out of me with his call," she answered as she got in the driver's side. House seemed surprised that she would admit that, but quickly recovered and got into the car next to her.

She pulled out and began the drive to Tritter's office.

The heavy silence that filled the car finally became too much for House. "Does it seem ironic to you that the local Police Department has spent all of this manpower and energy in trying to get little old me, when they couldn't be bothered to catch a man who entered a hospital, shot a doctor twice and then exited, never to be seen again?"

"Ironic isn't the word that I would use," Cuddy replied in a bitter tone.

"It just seems to me that if they put even half the energy that they've expended in getting me into their pursuit of other criminals, then the jails would be full."

"Most criminals know better than to personally piss off cops," she said as she pulled into the police parking lot. She turned to look at him. "Good luck." He nodded and slowly got out of the car and headed towards the building. Cuddy watched him go with mixed feelings. She was thankful that the ordeal was almost over with, but, at the same time, she hated to see House defeated this way.

The minutes ticked slowly by as she waited for House to return from Tritter's office. She began to make a checklist of things that she needed to do to prepare for House's departure. She would have to arrange to have a meeting with his staff to get things straightened out there. Chase's fellowship was nearing the end, and he would have to make some decisions before House left. And, of course, she would have to talk to the Board and smooth things over with them.

Cuddy was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice House's approach until he jerked the car door open, got in and slammed it shut. His entire body vibrated with helpless rage as he stared blankly through the windshield.

"The deal's off the table."

Cuddy gasped in surprise. "Why?"

"He somehow found out about the oxycodone. He doesn't need Wilson to get me anymore."

Disappointment and anger lanced through Cuddy as she fought the urge to tell him that she was sorry. He wouldn't want to hear that right now. Taking a deep breath in order to maintain some control, she started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. Her mind raced with the implications of House's statement.

She peeked at House from the corner of her eye. He was sitting there, shoulders tense, with his hand balled up on his thigh. Inexplicably, she felt a wave of anger directed at him. Yes, Tritter was being a jackass, but House could have stopped all of this very early in the whole situation.

"House," she said in a low, angry voice. His eyes flickered towards her. "The next time I tell you to apologize to someone, just fucking do it!" House just stared at her for a moment in surprise, and then, for some reason beyond her, started to chuckle.

"Next time? I'm probably going to lose my license and go to jail. I don't think there's going to be a next time."

"This isn't over yet," she said heatedly. His eyes widened in surprise once more.

"Do you know something I don't?" he asked. "You were telling me to compromise or go to jail earlier. What's changed?"

"There's no more deal so no more compromise. It's all or nothing, and I'll be damned if I let that smug, sanctimonious jackass win without a fight. You're going to call your insanely expensive lawyer tomorrow and set up a meeting with him."

"What can he do?"

"I don't know. I'm not a lawyer, he is. Let him earn his outrageous retainer. But we're not giving up."

His expression warmed as he looked at her. She could see his shoulders relax a little, and he unclenched his hands.

"So what if my insanely expensive lawyer tells me I'm screwed," he asked.

"I guess we'll just have to start making plans for you to flee the country," she said, only half-kidding.

"Hmm…" he murmured as he pondered the possibilities. "I think someplace tropical so that I can send lots of pictures of me lounging around on a beach to Tritter, and so you can come visit me during bikini season. I'll even buy your bikini."

"Let's wait until we hear what your lawyer says before you go shopping."

"Fine," he groused. "No bikinis until the lawyer tells me I'm screwed, but the moment he does, we're going shopping."

Cuddy chuckled but didn't say anything as they drove the rest of the way to House's apartment. She parked in front of the building and prepared to get out when House lightly took hold of her arm to stop her.

She glanced over to him, but he looked away as soon as their eyes met.

"I lied," he said so softly that she could barely hear him.

Cuddy raised her eyebrows in confusion.

"When I said that you'd make a crappy mother," he explained.

She inhaled sharply as she remembered the pain his comment had caused her. He hesitantly met her gaze and she could see the genuine remorse in his eyes. She offered him a teary smile and opened the car door.

"You don't have to come in," he told her as he got out of her car.

"I'm not leaving you alone."

"Fine," he said as if her staying there was the biggest inconvenience in the world, but Cuddy could see the relief flash on his face as he entered the building. She pushed down her anxiety at his situation and followed him. She didn't know what, if anything, she could do in the future, but for right now she could make sure that he wasn't alone.

The End

A/N2: I'm not a doctor or any other medical professional. What I know about overdosing on oxycodone and alcohol, I learned from the Internet