Chapter 3 Diagnostics Suite
House leaned back in his chair, trying to deal with the pounding between his ears. By all rights, he should've been on a plane to Boston and the potential cure for his leg. It seemed like the perfect plan….if only the Ducklings had left it alone. I wasn't going to kill anyone! He growled, considering the lecture from Wilson. Why couldn't they have left it alone! They can screw around with the leg and it's okay. If I want to do that, it's wrong! Damn hypocrites!
The Underling Trio all called in sick that day, feeling repelled by their insidious lying boss (or so they thought). The timestamps on the voice mail came within twenty minutes of their waking him up.
He ran his index finger through the air as if trying to find some hidden lyric floating around in the air. From Piano Boy's case, he'd discovered some new beats and tones.
Alas, if only they could last.
Cuddy stormed into the room like a crazed harpy. "HOUSE!"
He rubbed his head, feeling the throbbing quicken dramatically. "Let me guess…you're here representing Make a Wish?"
"That's only for dying people, House, which…gee…YOU AREN'T!" she snapped. Now she rubbed her temples. "Why, House? WHY? Don't you get it?"
He rolled his eyes. "Oh goodie. This again?" He forced himself to stand, ignoring the pain shooting up and down his leg in the process. "You know—Wilson's already yelled at me, Boss. Take a number." He limped toward the door.
She stood in front of his door, blockading him into the suite. "Oh no you don't! I'm not letting you out of here until I get a few choice words in! You used patient records! You made us think you were dying! How many times do you think you can get away with playing fast and free with the rules!"
He quirked an eyebrow at her skeptically. "Wow. And here I thought you'd be on my side."
She folded her arms across her chest and glanced sarcastically. "Oh really? And how pray tell would you come to that conclusion?"
He stared at her; his eyes in the wide open sarcastic stare. "I was following your example, Mom."
"My example?" She snorted in disbelief. "And how have I sinned now?"
"The magic ketamine stuff, Cuddy." He labored around the office on his cane. "Remember when I could run like the wind? Skip to the beat? Watch the twins from the bedroom window? Now those were the days/"
She sighed despondently; the failure hitting her square in the face again. "House, I said I was sorry. We were trying to cure you. That, however, doesn't give you the right to lie and cheat your way…."
He sniggered sarcastically at her. "Oh and how did you get the right to mess around when you used Protein C on your roof guy? And how about….?"
She growled low, "House, those were accepted medical uses! You're twisting the rules!"
"Gee, the Evil Queen hides behind the numbers again. Shocker there," he countered. "Who determines the rules, huh? Damn. Everyone else can experiment but the evil House and they're cool. When I do it, it's so naughty!"
She averted her eyes, knowing that his reputation often caused prejudice….and more often than not for good reason. Still he had a point. "Because you don't go through the same channels as the rest of us maybe? Ever think of doing a study yourself?"
"Yeah right."
"I'm serious, House," she insisted. "We can do a study right here comparing Ketamine with that cancer drug. Of course I can coordinate the study to make sure everything is ethical."
"Now there's the Cuddy I know," he replied although he let the sarcasm diminish considerably. "In one step, she goes from letting me run the study to having someone else poke at me. Love when my buddies toy around with my ass."
She shook her head. "House, you should know by now that I trust you to come up with innovative ideas. However, you could involve the rest of us too."
He rolled his eyes.
"Besides there is one other benefit," she insisted.
"You get to keep your mitts on it?" he guessed.
"That," she conceded before adding, "That…and it would help to keep the Tritters of the world off of our collective case."
He snarled, admitting to himself that she did have a point in that regard. "And what about the Camerons and Wilsons of the world?" He raised two expectant eyebrows.
"What about them?"
He chuckled, enjoying the fact that she was missing a part of the equation. "All of the kiddies' gossiping blew this situation way outta proportion! Cameron blabbed to everyone! My kiddies ignored me when I told them not to focus on me! Hell, they let Piano Boy get worse!"
"Sounds like they all gave you a taste of your own medicine, House."
He frowned. "And embarrassed your ass, Cuddy. I heard about your argument with the Big Cheese at Mass General about me. Sucks to be you, doesn't it?"
She ground her teeth, imagining the apologizing she would need to do in the not too distant future. "You were plotting something unethical, House."
"Oh right! It wasn't on a patient…."
"For once," she interjected cynically.
"…It was for me damn it!" He slammed his cane against a wall. "I ask again—why is it SO BAD for me to want to be rid of the pain in my leg AND keep it? Why does everyone think they know more about what's good for me than I DO?"
"Because you're like a kid sometimes," she countered, trying desperately to rein in her temper. "Your pain limits your objectivity! The Vicodin blunts it but the pain still distracts you. It would anyone! You're human, House." She rubbed his shoulder. "You're a genius. But it doesn't hurt to get several opinions."
"And you're opposed. So what?"
She retorted firmly, "I don't like you going underhanded to get what you want, all right? Work with us on the pain study! Wilson can get his colleague in Boston to work with us on the application." She bowed her head. "House, I know we screwed up with the ketamine. Let's proceed along this path. Let's see if we can get you what you need." She glanced out into the hall to make sure nobody was coming. "People care." She kissed his cheek softly. "Think on that. Come and see me around nine tomorrow. We need to talk further." With that, she left the suite.
He slumped back into his chair completely wonderstruck by her kiss. For years…Hell…more like decades, they'd traded banter barbs. In the process, he'd thrown every comment about her anatomy into the pot.
Yet despite her sticking to Anality For Dummies, she'd more than put up with him. She'd stuck by him, endangering her own professional standing and freedom in the process. She lied for him in court. She didn't fire him. Amazingly enough, she'd be willing to organize a study so he could get what he needed "experimentally"?
He wrestled with those thoughts and one other….that she truly cared about him.
He put his coat on and limped out the door heading for the wintry sidewalk beyond.
There was definitely a great deal to think about…..
