So this is my first attempt of a House fanfiction, as well as a fanfiction in general. I'd love some comments and reviews, so I know whether I should continue. Thanks in advance,
~CF
Chapter 1
I limped down the hallway, eyes set on one destination - Cuddy's office. No I wasn't going to have some emotional talk with her, I was just curious. The lights in her office were still gleaming, despite my wristwatch reading a few minutes past midnight. Maybe she'd lost track of time; she did that a lot these days. Still, it was pretty difficult to be oblivious to the impending darkness of nighttime. Even with all of the fluorescent lights on in the hospital, things seemed darker, almost eerily still. Yes, it would be hard for the setting of the sun to go unnoticed in such a normally busy place, very hard.
When I reached the glass of her door, I paused, attempting to peer through the closed blinds on the other side. She'd shut them too well and all I could discern was the glow of yellow light, nothing more. Rolling my eyes, I push into her office, having picked the perfect sarcastic remark to assault her with. The first syllable rolled off my tongue, but was cut short when I realized it would have no effect. Cuddy wouldn't even hear it.
On top of a mess of papers was an equally chaotic head of dark brown curls. The calming effects of sleep had softened Cuddy's normally stern face, her high cheekbones seeming less sharp, her normally pursed lips relaxed in a silent sigh. The expression of arrogance that was plastered on my face must have melted down to a small smirk, then to utter confusion. Cuddy at work, sleeping? Not humanly possible! I shook my head when I noticed a pen grasped loosely in her limp left hand. Even in her sleep, Cuddy couldn't stop working.
I walked quietly over to her side and shook her shoulder in an attempt to wake her. She moaned, almost inaudibly, and shifted a small bit in her seat. I sighed, knowing that if she slept in her current position she'd awake the next day even more tired and unhappy. Maneuvering carefully to her side, I somehow worked her into the crook of my left arm. She was like a dead weight, doing nothing to alleviate the pain that carrying her caused. I don't really know why I did that, but Cuddy would have to feel obligated to reduce my clinic hours later. That and the fact that she'd brought me home from bars in a drunken stupor quite a few times before...
To tell the truth, something seemed different after the whole 'kissing' incident between us. I don't know if I liked her more or hated her more, but one thing was for sure. That 'Great Wall' between love and hate that I previously thought existed, definitely wasn't as big as I had formerly thought. Anyways, I had an extremely rough go at keeping her mass off of my bad leg and somehow moving forward at the same time. The trek from her office, down the elevator, and to her car was excruciating and slow. Many heads were turned as they saw a crippled doctor lugging the Dean of Medicine's sleeping body through the halls of Princeton Plainsboro, but no one even offered me a hand of assistance. Conceited, idiotic, morally-incompetent... Wait. I couldn't be making those complaints if I never showed those characteristics... Nah. I can complain if I want.
The nagging pain that throbbed through my ruined leg didn't help the negativity that rattled around in my brain. On top of that, in the parking lot Cuddy moved her weight slightly to my right, the miniscule shift almost causing me to topple to the hard blacktop as my thigh seemed to explode beneath me. My grip on my cane tightened exponentially, knuckles turning white.
With eyes squinted against that all-to-familiar feeling that even Vicodin couldn't alleviate anymore, I somehow managed to shuffle all the way to Cuddy's car. Thankfully the doors were unlocked and I was able to set her limp figure on the back seat without jostling her around too much. Digging through her irritatingly large purse, I managed to find her car keys, and in minutes I was out of the lot and on my way to her place.
Every now and then, I'd look away from the road in front of me to check on my sleeping boss. I couldn't get over just how peaceful she looked when she slept. Trying to shake the thoughts of our kiss out of my head, for the billionth time today, I returned my gaze to the pavement ahead of me. Before long, I was pulling into Cuddy's driveway, carrying her clumsily from her car and to her front door. I heard the car doors automatically lock behind me. Having leaned my cane against the side of her house, I unlocked the door and pushed my way inside.
The most difficult part of my journey would turn out to be the stairs I'd forgotten about. I rarely attempted stairs by myself, let alone with another human being in my arms. Damn Cuddy for living in a two story house. Damn myself for actually trying to help her for once. Damn her for not waking when I'd shaken her. Damn myself for only trying to wake her once... The list went on and on. And somehow, the thoughts of damning people must have distracted me, because, before I really could comprehend how it had happened, I was sitting at the top of the stairs, Cuddy cradled against my chest.
I pushed myself along the floor on my rear, unable to get to my feet. Reaching the bed, I used the headboard and nightstand to help me up, careful not to hit Cuddy's head on the corner of her reading lamp. Success. Pulling back the covers on her bed, I rested her down upon her mattress, making sure to lay her head squarely on one of her memory foam pillows. Unstrapping her heels, I managed to slip them from her feet and place them neatly next to each other at the foot of her bed.
Cuddy groaned and lazily blinked her eyes open enough to see. Sure, miss damsel in distress had to wake up after I'd gone to hell and back to make her comfortable. Damn Cuddy... for everything. I buried my face in my left hand, supporting myself against the soft mattress with my other hand. All this work had gone to waste.
"Goodnight, Cuddy," I mumbled sourly, turning to leave. Before I could do so, a thin hand wrapped its fingers around my forearm.
"No. Don't go," Cuddy whispered, yawning in exhaustion. "You have no way home."
"What do you expect me to do Cuddy? I can take care of myself. I've walked home before. When will you get the fact that I don't care that you care?" I spat, not really meaning the last part. That was probably the opposite of how I really felt, but somehow those words still slipped out. I cringed at the silence that lingered. The air felt heavy, hard to breathe. I had to say something, but I didn't want to turn around. I knew that a hurt face filled with betrayal and sadness would greet me. The firm grip on my arm loosened and the hand was retracted back to its owner. My stomach felt sick when I heard a sob that failed to be stifled. I couldn't stand it anymore.
"Look, I'm sorry!" I yelled, a little louder and more harsh than I'd wanted it to be. "Are you happy now?!" I knew my tone was less than desirable. I glared at her tear-streaked face, seeing faint traces of mascara trailing down her cheekbones. She didn't look peaceful anymore, just fragile.
She sniffled and murmured under her breath, "I'm a little less miserable." Wiping her eyes, she turned over in bed, showing her back to me.
"I am sorry, Cuddy," I consoled, actually startling myself with how soft the words came out. I placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to fix what I'd done. She slid a few inches toward the other side of the bed, as if she was trying to slip away from me. Then it finally got through my thick skull that she was inviting me, making room for me, not trying to escape.
I kicked off my worn-out tennis shoes and slid onto her sheets. I didn't embrace her, didn't say anything. Just laid there with my hand against her upper arm, staring at the unexciting back of her head. I was awake when her breathing slowed and she went limp once more. I was awake when the neighbors next door decided the moment was right and forgot to close their blinds all the way. I didn't notice when I, myself, succumbed to the welcoming realm of sleep.
