Thank you so, so much to everybody who read, favourited and alerted this story, but a special thanks to all of you who took the time to leave me a review. I wasn't sure if people would be interested in another story, but the response was overwhelming. You're brilliant! :)
I know you guys have a ton of questions about what's happened since they last saw each other. All will be revealed, but not necessarily in this chapter. :P Love reading your theories though!
Also my apologies if some of the medical aspects of this chapter don't add up to those of you in the know. I tried to get it right, but there might be some inaccuracies.
Nope. Still not mine.
To say that he was tired was an understatement. Even if he was used to long periods of sleeplessness because of the pain in his leg, these days at least he got to rest. Stamping books and hanging around in the University archives wasn't exactly mentally or physically taxing, nor did it require him to be awake for forty hours straight, barring the snatched twenty minute naps he'd caught here and there. At the same time, House felt oddly energised. After losing Wilson and going back to prison, boredom had become a part of his life that he'd slowly learnt to accept. That was his penance for his past mistakes. Like Sisyphus, day after day he'd roll the boulder to the top of the mountain only to watch it roll back down again. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
But what else was he supposed to do?
When he and his best friend had set off on their last adventure, he'd still been jubilant over the fact he'd chosen life over death in a burning building. Quickly reality had set in, and the optimism had faded. Not even a genius could get around the fact he was a Vicodin-addicted cripple with a terminally ill friend in tow, who'd have to spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder. He'd stayed true to his word and been there for Wilson until the end, a small hospice in Alabama providing the backdrop for the last few days of his friend's life, and then after a dark night of the soul where he'd considered putting a gun in his mouth, he'd walked into the nearest police station and handed himself in. He simply hadn't had the stomach to keep on running. Now, for the first time in three and half years, he couldn't help but buzz with real purpose.
Blinking to clear his vision, he gingerly moved his feet off the arm of the sofa in the DDX room and planted them on the floor, glancing in front of him to see an equally exhausted Chase sat across the way with his head resting on the conference table, obviously half asleep. Smirking to himself, House reached down and picked something up, cupping it in his palm and then throwing it up in the air.
"It's kind of cute that you kept my balls. I had no idea that you and your ex-wife had a crush on me."
Unimpressed with the comment, Chase grunted and rubbed his hand groggily through his hair.
"I'm too tired to tell you to shut up… We need to figure this out."
"We have. It's Reye's syndrome."
Wearily the younger man sat up and shook his head.
"That doesn't explain the rash on his hands and arms, and the swelling around his lips and face."
"We know it's not menin…" Mid-sentence House cut himself off when the door to the room opened, and Cuddy stepped inside. Like both of them still wearing the same clothes from the previous day. Like both of them looking completely washed out. "And that's my cue to find a vending machine."
Hauling himself up, he walked towards the doorway without making eye contact and was about to cross the threshold when he felt a hand pressing firmly against his chest, the electricity of the contact forcing his head to snap up and regard the culprit.
"You don't have to leave," she murmered quietly.
"That's not what you said yesterday."
Looking past him to Chase, who sat watching them intently with his arms crossed like toddler engrossed in a cartoon, she suddenly became conscious of her hand still resting on House's chest and quickly dropped it, pressing her fingers deeply into her pocket. Thoroughly confused, her ex-boyfriend frowned.
"I've changed my mind. I'm sick of waiting around and doing nothing, so I'm here to help." Moving away from him, she walked to the table and sat down next to the latest Head of the Department, looking around at the space that was once all too familiar, before addressing him. "Where's the rest of your team?"
"I sent them home," Chase clarified. "They were exhausted and strangely they didn't enjoy constantly being referred to as Dopey, Dumpy and Idiot."
Maddened, Cuddy shot House a withering look as he sat back down on the sofa that forced him to defend himself.
"You expect me to learn the names of another batch of morons? It's not my fault Captain Boomerang here has a higher turnover of staff than I did." At the accusation, the younger man raised his eyebrows. Sure his former three fellows had all left, but it wasn't entirely down to him. Taub had gone back to plastic surgery simply because it made more financial sense with two young children, and Park had taken another fellowship in Washington. With Adams it kind of had been his fault. Stupidly he hadn't learnt the pitfalls of sleeping with someone you work with, even after the mess his marriage had turned into.
"And it would have killed you to be bearable for a couple of days?"
"If you wanted bearable you should have held a séance for Wilson, and asked his advice," House threw back, not exactly holding back his own irritation.
Incredulously she shook her head.
"My nephew's sick and you're cracking jokes?"
Again he opted to pour fuel on the fire.
"I'm pretty sure you didn't bring me here for my tact."
Just as Cuddy was about to respond, Chase stuck his hand in the air and drew their attention.
"Shut up! Both of you!" Shocked they both stared at him, baffled by the authoritative tone of voice. "This is my department now and I'm well within my rights to kick you both out, especially if all you're going to do is argue... It's not helping."
After a prolonged silence, the former Dean sighed and hung her head, catching a glimpse of House, who also looked suitably chastised, out of the corner of her eye as she did so.
"You're right, I'm sorry… Are you any closer to solving this?"
"It's Reye's," he chirped up, grabbing his cane and twirling it like a baton between his fingers. "The previous viral infection, the vomiting, the lethargy, they all fit."
"But that doesn't explain the rash or the swelling," she countered, echoing the earlier sentiments of the man sat next to her. "That's usually triggered by Aspirin, and I told her not to give him any after Joe's chicken pox broke out."
"You're certain?" Chase quizzed.
"I expressly told her not to give him any, because it was dangerous… She avoids giving them anything unless she absolutely has to anyway."
"And he couldn't have just found them and taken them?" House persisted, certain that he'd found the answer.
Cuddy shook her head.
"They lock all the meds away in the cupboard. They have to because of the syringes Mike uses for his insulin." At the back of his mind House vaguely recalled her telling him about Julia's husband suffering from Type 1 Diabetes and nodded, watching her brow furrow increasingly, before she worked up the courage to voice her concern. "If this is Reye's there isn't a cure."
Sensing the fear radiating from her, House squirmed in his seat. Any smugness that he may have solved the case evaporated when he realised the implications. There was a distinct possibility that if he was right, her nephew could be left with serious liver and/or brain damage, or even slip into a coma and not wake up. From past experiences, he knew the bearer of bad news was rarely thanked.
"The quicker we confirm this, the better we can deal with the symptoms."
"Meaning?" she pressed, sensing he was inferring more.
"Meaning Chase and I need to check the house for toxins, in case the rash and the swelling are important."
Straight away Cuddy's head vehemently flew from one side to the other.
"There's no way Julia's going to let you anywhere near her home."
"It's better if two of us go," he insisted softly, looking to Chase who nodded supportively. "That way we're less likely to miss something… There's no reason she'd have to know."
"You want me to lie to her?"
He shrugged. It was certainly the lesser of all evils, and he could do without a slagging match with her younger sister that would just delay a diagnosis further.
"Or not mention it at all… Does it matter if it improves the kid's chances?"
Jadedly, Cuddy planted her elbows on the table in front of her and cupped her face in her hands, the dilemma evidently telling on her. After several moments of deliberating, she eventually sighed and got to her feet as the two men in the room looked on apprehensively.
"Give me five minutes to get my key."
They'd already been there for twenty minutes when House turned his attention to the bookshelf in the living room, and found himself staring at the one thing he could have done without seeing at all: Cuddy's wedding photograph. With his stomach tying itself into knots, he couldn't seem to look away. Standing under a canopy in her white dress, facing her predictably handsome and evidently Jewish husband judging by the kippah he was wearing, she looked beautiful. Their fingers were intertwined in a physical display of togetherness, and try as he may to find any insincerity in their faces as they gazed happily at each other, the mutual adulation appeared genuine. Once more witnessing this snapshot of her new life had made him question the soundness of agreeing to help with the case. At least resigning himself to not seeing her again had offered him some comfort. Whilst it was never entirely the case that she was out of sight, out of mind, time and distance had allowed him to focus his energies elsewhere. Now, however, the proof that she'd moved on so effortlessly felt like a kick in the nuts, no matter how much he reasoned with himself that she deserved to.
And yet something was bugging him.
Limping to the adjoining kitchen where Chase was searching through the cupboards, he leaned against the counter and cleared his throat.
"So what was the deal with Cuddy not wearing her wedding ring earlier?"
"What?" Not fully listening to what he was saying, the younger man continued to empty various cleaning fluids from under the kitchen sink.
"Cuddy… She was wearing her ring yesterday, and now she's not… Why?" He'd noticed it when she'd placed her hand on his chest, and the more he thought about it, the more he felt the urge to find an explanation.
"I have no idea," Chase answered unconvincingly, shoving his head further into the cupboard.
"You know something."
Pretending to examine the pipes closely with a torch, he kept quiet and pondered what to say, sensing his former boss' eyes burning into the back of his head. He did know something. He'd overheard Cuddy and her sister talking whilst he was checking on his patient, but that didn't mean he was going to betray their privacy, especially when House was the one pressing for information. Eventually he uncoiled himself from the enclosed space, and turned to look at House.
"It's none of my business. Or any of yours for that matter."
"Oh come on! It's not as if you still work for her."
Pushing himself to his feet against the cupboard door, Chase leant against the sink and regarded him challengingly. Of course his predecessor had that look in his eye. The one that meant his need to know something trumped everything else.
"And you really think that just because she's not my boss anymore, I have no reason to be scared of her?"
"It's not as if I'm going to say anything? We're not exactly friends anymore." He paused momentarily and scratched his forehead. "We're not exactly anything anymore."
"Then why do you care whether she's wearing her ring or not?"
House shrugged in a weak attempt at nonchalance. It was a pertinent question.
"I'm just curious."
Knowing that this was something the guy in front of him was genuinely struggling with, Chase let the air filter out of his lungs and dove in.
"You want my advice?"
"Not really, but I'm sure you're going to give me it anyway," the older man retorted sarcastically, folding his arms across his chest and craning his neck to the side like he was bracing himself for a lecture.
"I had a ringside seat for you two circling each other for years. Sometimes you brought out the best in each other, and sometimes you brought out the worst. But you went way too far after she dumped you… Don't risk hurting her again and hating yourself even more just for the sake of solving another puzzle."
"You think I hate myself?" His tone was cocky, but the expression on his face told another story. There was panic there, alarm at being found out.
"Yeah, I do… I know what it's like living with something you can't undo." Even though he hadn't been specific, House knew he was referring to Dibala. At the time he was aware it had cost him his marriage, but he had no idea that all these years later the incident still haunted him.
"Except I didn't fake test results so that somebody would die," he shot back breezily, purposefully wanting to direct the flow of the conversation away from himself.
Understandably annoyed, the diagnostician scowled angrily in his direction.
"No, you just destroyed your ex-girlfriend's home, and made her so frightened she felt she had to give up her job and make arrangements to move her three year daughter somewhere safe; all while you were sat on a tropical island drinking cocktails for three months… You really beat me to the moral high ground there, House! I take it all back!"
"Why are you so protective of Cuddy all of a sudden?" he responded, equally peeved and confused. As far as he'd known, Chase had been ambivalent to the whole thing. He certainly hadn't raised any objections when he'd returned to work after his first stay behind bars.
"Because I don't like seeing somebody kicked when they're already down." Instantly he saw House's forehead crease with yet more questions, and realised his mistake. "Draw a line! Just be happy that this time, hopefully, it's not going to end with you nearly killing her and her family." Walking towards him, he grabbed the spare torch from the counter and handed it over intending to draw a line of his own. "I'll take upstairs, and you can check the garden."
Gloomily House followed the winding path down the centre of the garden, his cane thumping down hard on the stone with each step, as he shone his torch from side to side. Being told a few home truths was never a pleasant experience, but being reasoned with by someone who was equally as messed up and nearly twenty years younger than him was all the more humiliating. Chase was right on a number of counts. He did hate himself, Cuddy's lack of a ring was no longer any of his business, and the common sense approach would be to just solve the case and get on with his life, no matter how hard he might find it to turn his back on a conundrum.
Reaching the end of the lawn, he looked around and pursed his lips. There was nothing there that could explain the boy's illness. Just the grass, a slide and the odd plant dotted around in pots, which he presumed a ten year old wouldn't be moronic enough to actually eat. Retracing his steps he wandered back and forth down the path and finally came to rest again near the bottom of the garden, frustration and the dull ache in his thigh making him lean backwards against the six foot wooden fence. Unexpectedly something moved. Checking to making sure he hadn't just imagined it, he nudged the bottom panel next to him with his sneaker and felt it give, falling forward and exposing a gap into the neighbour's garden that had obviously been concealed on purpose.
Muttering something under his breath, House dropped to his knees and awkwardly climbed through, hoping against hope he wasn't going to be greeted by an over-eager guard dog, or indeed the owners who'd probably be only be too happy to prosecute him for trespassing. Much to his relief, there was little there except for overgrown weeds and a small rickety shed reposing amongst them, with a makeshift path leading up to it. Slowly managing to stand up, he glanced over his shoulder at the rundown property behind him, soon satisfied that it wasn't occupied, and walked along the makeshift trail, soon reaching the construction and pushing his cane against the shed door, before watching it gradually swing open. Cautiously he stepped inside and shone his torch around the small space, noting the old cans of paint and tools on the shelves at head height. Taking a step backwards something bounced against the back of his foot and hit the wall behind him, veering off at another angle and revealing itself to be a soccer ball when he shone the light on it. As he turned around to investigate further, he saw the array of empty candy wrappers and comics strewn around the floor, one bare corner betraying where Cuddy's nephew had more than likely sat whenever he'd snuck in from next door.
And that was when he saw them. The tiny green pellets scattered liberally around the shed floor: rat poison.
"Bingo!"
Just a note at the end here in response to a couple of reviews: people have one hundred and one different ideas about who to apportion blame to for the break-up and what happened afterwards, therefore I thought I'd lay out my own views, so some of you aren't surprised or disappointed when this story doesn't go a certain way.
Essentially they BOTH doomed the relationship to failure from the start, because they weren't prepared to be brutally honest with each other. House knew he needed to change for it to work, and Cuddy didn't admit that she needed him to. She set unrealistic standards for him to meet, but at the same time he kept on doing things he knew would piss her off. As for the debate about her dumping him over 'one pill', I think the groundwork for the break-up was already laid with his "You make me a crappy doctor" speech at the end of 'Recession Proof', where he forced responsibility for any future professional negligence on his part on her, therefore making any semblance of a work/home divide an impossibility. The 'one pill' was symbolic. Whilst I agree that Cuddy, or at least an in-character version of her, wouldn't/shouldn't have dumped him over such a seemingly trivial relapse, the threat of him spiralling back into using and all the things that that brings with it, i.e. hallucinations, Mayfield should have concerned her as a girlfriend and a parent. A relationship that requires her to worry about him, even when she's the one whose life is in danger, is imbalanced and untenable.
I'm always going to be of the opinion that a person should be allowed to leave a relationship, for whatever reason they want to, without fear of reprisal. Whilst I completely support the idea that Cuddy is just as screwed up as House, (something which I intend to explore), his actions subsequent to the break-up were deplorable. The parade of hookers, the Green Card marriage and ultimately the crash only served as further vindication that she was right to leave him. I don't subscribe to a 'delicate flower' vision of House, who needs to be mothered, and who, because of his difficult and chequered past, has no real control over his actions. Taking the Vicodin when Cuddy was sick was just as much his decision as driving his car into her home, and he should have to live with that, even if there are potential qualifications to both instances. As a doctor he was shown to make sound decisions and judgements about his patients on a daily basis, and once upon a time, when the show still made sense, he was the one who had the strength of character to turn Stacy away when he knew the relationship wouldn't work.
The way I see it, they BOTH need to change for them to ever have a chance at making a relationship work, but first of all House needs to prove to Cuddy that that act of violence doesn't define who he really is. That was my starting point for FWYS, and it's more or less my jumping off point here too. Of course people are free to disagree with my take on all of this, but I can only write what makes sense to me.
