Transcript of session with patient Dr. Gregory House, April 27, 2011.

Preliminary notes: The patient arrives a few minutes late. As usual, his demeanor is a study in contradiction: His posture is edgy, almost accusatory. But his eyes betray a nearly child-like hope. This clinician believes that, despite his defense mechanisms, the patient genuinely wants to get better. He wants to believe.

N: If you don't mind, I want to start today by picking up on something you said at the end of our last session.

H: Of course! Because why move forward when there are so many more billable hours to be earned by looking back?

N: I actually think this will be helpful.

H: You think it will be profitable. But knock yourself out.

N: Last time you were here you said that the therapy must've worked because Cuddy fell in love with you.

H: So?

N: What did you mean by that?

H: It's a pretty straight forward equation. Before therapy she wasn't with me, after therapy she was.

N: I'm asking you why.

[Note: As always, patient looks uncomfortable before becoming sincere. . .a pattern observed throughout therapy.]

H: I guess because it made me more . . normal.

N: Normal how?

H: I don't know. Less of a freak. Less of a social leper. If I knew for sure I wouldn't be here, now would I?

N: You think you're a social leper?

H: I'm not exactly Mr. Congeniality.

N: Fair enough. You also talked about an 'emotional experience' the two of you shared together.

H: Your penchant for quoting me back to me is rather disturbing, you know that Nolan?

N: Sorry. I record and transcribe all sessions. It's part of my process. . . . What kind of emotional experience?

H: There was this girl. She was trapped under a building. She was afraid to amputate her leg. I told her that two functioning legs were kind of meaningless in the scheme of things when the rest of your life sucked.

N: That's a pretty big confession on your part.

H: That's me. A wide open book.

N: Was that all?

H: No, the patient. . . she died. Cuddy and I were both pretty broken up about it. So I guess we. . .took comfort in each other.

N: She appreciated your openness and vulnerability?

H: Chicks dig a man who's sensitive.

N: Why couldn't you share that kind of vulnerability with her when she got sick?

H: She didn't need me to be vulnerable when she got sick. She needed me to be strong.

N: Maybe the two of you could've shared your fears together, taken comfort in each other then, too.

H: She's not a lesbian, Nolan! She wants a man.

N: So what? You think real men don't cry?

H: Yes, I actually am that much of a cliché. No, I just . . .I suck at comforting people. I make everything worse.

N: Cuddy needed her boyfriend.

H: I know. And that's why I took the vicodin.

N: She needed the real you. All of you.

H: I'll keep that in mind the next time I think the woman I love is dying of cancer.

N: What I'm trying to say is. . .

[Patient's phone rings. He looks at it for a second.]

H: Excuse me.

N: There's a clear sign in my lobby that says 'No cell phones.'

H: There's also one that says, 'Let a smile be your umbrella.' I ignored that one too.

[Patient talks into the phone]: Uh huh. I already told you that was a dumb idea. Fine. Hey, it's your neck on the line. Have a nice life.

[Patient hangs up.]

H: Sorry about that.

N: Who was that?

H: That was my, uh, wife.

N: I'm sorry. I could swear you just said your wife.

H: Funny story that . . .

N: You're married?

H: A marriage of convenience. A Green Card type deal.

N: To whom?

H: Angelina Jolie. Brad said he didn't mind. . .

[Patient waits for a reaction. When it doesn't come, he sighs and continues.]

H: Her name is Dominika. She's a. . .licensed cosmetologist-slash-professional escort-slash-housekeeper from the Ukraine.

N: Where did you two meet?

H: At the bar of the hotel where I was living at the time.

N: You were living at a hotel?

H: Yeah. Just a brief period of unchecked debauchery to get me through the breakup.

N: Unhealthy impulse, House.

H: Au contraire. Very healthy impulse. I didn't mope. I didn't sit around crying in my beer. I partied for a week and got on with my life.

N: Some parties can very lonely.

H: Even a lonely party beats a few days stuck inside my own head.

N: I understand. You slept with hookers during this stay?

H: Why? Do you think they're covered by my insurance?

N: Very funny, House. . . So this Dominika person?

H: I was going to bang her, but then she told me her sob story and I hatched my brilliant plan.

N: To marry a strange Ukrainian hooker so she can get her Green Card?

H: It seems slightly less brilliant when you put it like that.

N: When did you marry her?

H: About. . .four days later.

N: So less than two weeks after you broke up with Cuddy?

H: Of course! It would be awkward to get married when I was still with Cuddy.

N: But why?

H: Just doing a solid for my new friend.

N: Try harder, House.

[Patient sighs; fiddles with his cane.]

H: I suppose I convinced myself that it was for the free cooking, cleaning, and sex. . .but since she has thus far procured none of those things, I admit I'm beginning to second guess myself.

N: Does Cuddy know about the marriage?

H: Know? She attended the blessed event.

N: Cuddy came to the wedding?

H: Um, part of it.

N: So you got married just out of. . .spite?

H: I wouldn't put it quite like that.

N: How would you put it?

H: I don't know.

N: You must know. And don't tell me it was for the free housekeeping.

H: I guess I. . .wanted to prove something to her.

N: Prove what?

H: That I was. . .the kind of guy who got married.

N: A sort of, "All this could've been yours, baby" type deal?

H: Something like that.

N: Interesting.

H: You have no idea how much I hate when you say that.

N: You were going to propose to her, weren't you?

H: I did propose to her.

N: I meant Cuddy.

H: I know who you meant . . .

[Patient hangs his head, pauses for a long time.]

H: Yes, the thought of proposing to Dr. Cuddy had crossed my mind.

Cuddy's breath caught in her throat. She stopped reading for a second and closed her eyes tightly. Then she exhaled and continued.

N: Had you bought a ring?

H: No, it hadn't gotten that far. But I. . .had this revelation, you know?

N: What kind of revelation?

H: You see, I had lost a patient.

N: Which doesn't happen to you very often.

H: No, it doesn't. And you'll be shocked to find out that I tend to get a little obsessive when it does. But not this time. Because what I realized was: None of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was. . my life with Cuddy and Rachel.

N: And that was when you considered proposing.

H: Like I said, nothing was planned. It was just an idea I was toying with. I thought maybe we could all on vacation together, as a family, you know? And that I would propose then. But . . .you know what they say about the best laid plans. Or in my case, the best NOT getting laid plans.

N: I'm sorry House.

H: Yeah, well, that's what I get for hoping, right?

N: Hope is a good thing.

H: Hope kicks you in the nads.

N: Not always.

H: Fifty-two years of experience has told me otherwise.

N: So Dr. Cuddy breaks your heart and you retaliate by shoving a bogus marriage in her face.

H: You make me sound like a dick.

N: No comment.

H: I knew there was a reason I liked you, Nolan.

N: Why do you think she came to the wedding?

H: Because I asked her to. I think she thought she was doing me a favor. She was tip-toeing around me after the breakup. Trying to be super nice.

N: She came to the wedding to be nice to you?

H: Why else?

N: I honestly don't know. So do you think the wedding hurt her?

H: You haven't met her. She's Teflon. Nothing gets to her. But that night. . .maybe. Maybe I got to her a little.

N: How do you know?

H: She left the room. Had to hide in the bedroom. Naturally, Dudley Do-Right went to comfort her.

N: Dr. Wilson?

H: Yeah.

N: Did he tell you what she said?

H: No, just that she was upset. And determined not to cry.

N: How did that make you feel?

H: Like even more of an asshole.

N: But I thought the whole point of this wedding was to hurt her. Mission accomplished, right?

[Patient speaks quietly, almost to himself]:

H: Sometimes the revenge doesn't feel quite as sweet as you think it will.

N: And what about you and Dominika? Are you living together as man and wife?

H: Do you mean, have we boned? No. There's nothing quite like marrying a woman to shrink your boner.

N: Why do you do that, House?

H: I apologize. We have not MADE LOVE because I can't get an ERECTION.

N: Not that. Why do you pretend things don't hurt you? Why do you pretend to be more cavalier than you actually are?

H: I honestly don't know what you're talking about.

N: You couldn't sleep with her because she was the weapon of your revenge against Cuddy. And sleeping with her would seem like a true betrayal.

H: If you say so.

N: Are you saying I'm wrong?

[Patient doesn't make eye contact.]

H: No.

N: So will you be seeing Dominika tonight?

H: Negative. That's what that phone call was all about. She's leaving tonight for Atlantic City. With her boyfriend. He's a bouncer at this club she goes to.

N: If she has a boyfriend, why couldn't he marry her?

H: Not sure. But I think the fact that his name is Dmitry Petrovic might be a clue.

N: So where do you go from here?

H: You tell me.

N: Any chance you can get out of the marriage?

H: Not without getting us both thrown in jail. And by both, I mean you and me. You're an accomplice now.

N: So you're stuck with her.

H: She's a non-factor in my life, Nolan. It's not an issue.

N: And what about Cuddy?

H: What about her?

N: Do you think it's an issue for Cuddy?

H: Cuddy doesn't care who I'm married to. She's moved on with her life.

N: You sure about that?

H: I'm positive.

N: I wouldn't be so sure House. But let's talk about it more next week.

#######

"That must be one helluva spread sheet."

Cuddy looked up from the transcript, embarrassed.

Wilson was standing there, his hands shoved in his pockets, smiling at her.

"It is," she said, trying to keep her voice breezy. "Compelling stuff."
"Lunch?"

"Is it okay for you to be seen consorting the with enemy?" (Ever since the breakup, Wilson had been more or less avoiding her. She didn't really mind. House needed his friend.)

"You're not the enemy," Wilson said. Then he gave a guilty shrug. "And besides, House is at the bike shop."

Cuddy chuckled.

"Of course."

"Shall we?"

"Why not?"

At lunch, she picked at her chopped salad as Wilson lit into his turkey club.

"So how is House?" she asked, finally.

"He's okay. He's achieved a sort of a baseline of misery at this point, I'd say."

"Do you think he's . . .talking to anybody?"

"Like. . .Taub?"

"Like a therapist."

"No way. He's self-medicating with booze, pills, and hookers. . ." He looked up. "Sorry."

She shrugged.

So Wilson didn't know about Nolan. She didn't quite know how to take that.

"And how are you feeling about things?" Wilson asked her.

"I'm confused," she admitted. "There's such a disconnect between how House acts and what he really feels."
(Had she said too much? Would Wilson realize that she had accessed House's therapy sessions?)
"Does anyone ever really know what House is thinking?" he said, musingly.

######

Cuddy lay in bed that night thinking about House.

Reading the transcript had left her feeling completely out of sorts—like she had opened some sort of suppurating wound she didn't even know existed.

She'd be lying if she said that she didn't sometimes regret her decision to break up with House. Even a moron knew it wasn't wise to make major life changes at a time of extreme emotional distress.

But House hadn't even given her time to feel remorse, to sit with her doubts. He had lashed out so swiftly and violently, it left her head spinning. It made her feel like she had done the right thing.

But now. . . reading the transcript. Her heart positively ached for him.

I'll keep that in mind the next time I think the woman I love is dying of cancer.

And he wanted to marry her?

The words played over and over again in her mind: The only thing that mattered was my life with Rachel and Cuddy.

Rachel.

He'd brought Rachel up twice now in his therapy sessions. So he really did love her little girl. It's not that she hadn't noticed a bond forming between them. It was obvious to anyone who saw them together. But she'd always secretly suspected that if House had his druthers, Rachel would be out of the picture.

She's a great kid. . . Of course I miss her.

We could all go on vacation together. . . as a family.

Damn him.

She glanced at her clock. 10 pm. House would probably be in his living room, drinking scotch and reading a medical journal or maybe playing the piano.

She picked up the phone and dialed.

#####

"Wrong number," he said.

"House, it's me. . ."

"I know it's you Cuddy. It's 2011. They have this thing called Caller ID."

"I wanted to. . . talk. I feel like we never talk anymore."

"You feel that way because it's true. We never talk anymore."
"I miss you."

"Are you drunk?"

"No."

"Oh too bad. That makes one of us."

"I was hoping that maybe I could. . . come over."

"What? Now?"

"Why not?"
"You can't come over because I'm lying here in bed . . . with my wife."

She was so shocked and affronted by his words, she said something without thinking:

"That's a complete lie and I know that for a fact!"

There was a pause.

"How do you know that for a fact?"

Shit.

"I just do. I can tell by the tone of your voice that you're alone."
"Nice try, Cuddy. How do you know Dominika isn't here for a fact?"

"Well, is she?"

"It's a moot point. Because you're not coming over."

And he hung up.

#####

The next day, over lunch, House said to Wilson: "Is Cuddy seeing Lucas again?"

Wilson practically choked on his ham sandwich.

"Lucas?"

"Yeah. . .She knew something about me she couldn't possibly know. Unless she was seeing that slimeball and having me followed."

"She has said nothing about Lucas, House. And besides, why would she have you followed?"

"Who knows? Maybe she's looking for some excuse to have me fired."

"Oh yes. Because she can't use any of the 100 legitimate reasons she already has to have you fired."

"And you're sure she's not seeing Lucas?"
"House, unlike you, Cuddy is still nursing a broken heart. She's not going to do something as stupid as jump right back into the arms of an ex boyfriend."

House frowned.

"Huh," he said.

#######

Twenty minutes later, he was standing in Cuddy's office, with his arms folded.

"How did you know I was home alone last night?" he said, stubbornly.

Oh shit. She was hoping he would let this go. But who was she kidding? House never let anything go.

"I guess I didn't know. I guess I was hoping."

"Your exact words were: I know for a fact."

"Figure of speech."
"Not really."
He swallowed hard.

"Are you seeing Pucas again?"

She started.

"What? Of course not! No!"

"Then how did you know?"

"I don't know, House. Maybe it came to me in a dream."

Another mistake. Subconsciously echoing the words he had used to explain how she knew he was on vicodin.

But this time, it didn't seem to register.

"You wouldn't lie to me, would you?" he said.

Yes, she thought.

"No," she said.

"Okay."

And he nodded at her.
#####

She was halfway home that night when she realized that that there was no way House believed her and that he was almost definitely going to snoop around her office.

(He was extremely good at sweet talking Lou the janitor into giving him the master key. Hell, at this point, he'd probably made a copy of the thing.)
She swung her car around and sped back to the hospital.

She made her way briskly back to her office, her heels clicking hard against the linoleum floors.

But when she got there, it was too late.

House was sitting behind her desk, with her computer open, a stunned look on his face.

"Cuddy, how could you?" he said when he saw her.

"I . . can explain!" she said.

But that was a lie. She couldn't explain. Because there was no explanation. Nothing could justify what she had done.

"Did you get your jollies? Did you get off on reading how fucked up I am?"

"No! House, it's not like that."

"Poor House, pathetic loser whining to Dr. Nolan about his broken heart. How very satisfying this all must be to you."
She closed her eyes, tried to fight back the tears.

"No. . . it's not. I want you to be happy."

"Did you laugh at me? Read the transcript to Julia? Highlight your favorite parts?"
"Of course not! Nobody saw it but me."

"How can I believe a word that you EVER SAY AGAIN, Cuddy?"

"What I did was wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong. There's no excuse for it. But I did it because I care about you. I just needed to know that you were okay."

He glared at her.

"I could have you fired for this," he shouted. "I could go straight to the medical board and have you fired."

She'd never seen him so angry. His face was bright red.

"I know," she said, feebly.

"You think I won't do it but I will," he said.

"That's within your rights."

"You're pathetic, you know that Cuddy?" he spat.

And he slammed her laptop shut and limped quickly past her—he was moving so fast so she had to jump out of his way— and didn't look back at her again.