Thanks for reading and commenting on this story, Huddy Nation. Sometimes, after 170 fics, I feel like I'm running on fumes, but your enthusiasm always keeps me going. A tiny bit of this story was previously used in my own The Devil Wears Housecoats. (It's not plagiarism if you steal from yourself, right?). Anyway, hope you all enjoy the ending.- atd
She came to the door in a tee-shirt and jeans, no makeup, looking tired.
She gave him a weak smile.
"Hi," she said.
"Hi," he said back.
They both stood there, awkwardly, still not quite knowing how to act in front of each other. There was no blueprint for this new phase of their relationship. No rule book. But if House had been hoping for a hug—or, in his wildest dreams, for her to dissolve into tears in his arms—it was clearly not coming. (On the other hand, he needed to focus on the positive: Few people got to see her dressed down, unguarded, vulnerable. In its own way, it was a kind of intimacy.)
"I'm drinking," she said, holding up a bottle of wine and ushering him inside. "You want some?"
"I'll pass. Nolan seems to be under the impression that I should avoid all addictive substances," he said. "He's SUCH a killjoy."
Cuddy nodded, approvingly.
"Good for you. But you don't mind if I….?" she gestured toward her glass.
"Knock yourself out."
"I've got mom's scan up on the computer," she said, with a cock of her head toward her office. "If you want to take a look at it."
"Sure," he said, rubbing his hands on his pants legs nervously.
Last time he'd been to her house, he was so out of it, he hadn't noticed the renovation. This time, he did. The dining room was completely new—home improvement by way of car wreck. New hardwood floors. New table and chairs. New Turkish rug. She had even removed the wood beam he had crashed into. It gave the room a larger, more expansive feel.
"Looks better, huh?" she said, noticing him noticing. "I should probably thank you."
"Not funny," he said.
"No," she agreed with a half-shrug. "I guess not."
Now they were in her office—haunted by memories of House trying to coax her away from the computer and into the bedroom with him. ("All work and no play makes Cuddy a very unfulfilled girl," he would say, kissing her neck.) Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. Sometimes things got so heated they had sex, right there, on the desk.
He shook away that thought and looked at the scan.
It was, regrettably, a rather textbook case of late-stage pancreatic cancer.
"Oh," he said.
Cuddy frowned. She had been holding out the tiniest shred of hope. Seeing his face, she knew not to hope anymore.
"Yeah," she said. "That's what I thought."
If Arlene were a young woman, he might suggest aggressive treatment: chemo and radiation. But she was 72. Mostly, when it came to someone her age, it was about minimizing pain and maximizing comfort.
"Is she going to …?"
"Just lie down and accept her death?" Cuddy said, thinking of her mother with a fond smile. "Not Arlene Cuddy. She's going to go out kicking and screaming. We've already had our first chemo session. She complained the whole time. The chair wasn't comfortable. She was thirsty. The magazines weren't good enough. I think one of the nurses quit on the spot."
House laughed.
"Arlene Cuddy: Gleefully terrorizing the medical profession since 1940."
"Don't we know it," Cuddy said, with a smile.
"And the hair loss? I know that can be traumatic."
"Already shaved her head preemptively and bought a red wig. She insists that she's always secretly been a redhead. She's channeling her inner Rita Hayworth."
"Go Arlene."
"She does look pretty good," Cuddy said.
"What about Rachel?" House asked. "Does she understand what's going on?"
"Not really. She knows nana's sick. I don't think she knows how sick."
"Does she want Milo back?" House said, earnestly. "I mean, to give to Arlene?"
Cuddy smiled at him.
"No," she said. "Milo is yours. Rachel wants you to have him."
"Cool," House said. He searched for the right things to say. "And Julia?" he asked, finally. "How's she holding up?"
Cuddy glanced at him, impressed that he would think to ask.
"She's a mess, predictably. All very dramatic. Lots of tears, lots of being too upset to pitch in. I'm the sister who keeps things together, as usual. She's the one who falls apart. These are our assigned roles."
"You can fall apart in front of me anytime," House said. "Falling apart, as you know, is my specialty. I'm board certified."
She laughed.
"Thanks House. I'm really glad you're here."
He blinked at her.
"I am, too."
######
They began talking more often—via text and even phone calls.
One Saturday, about two weeks after House's visit, he asked Cuddy what she was doing for the day.
"Taking mom to chemo," she said. "Good times."
"I could come?" he offered. "Keep you guys company?"
"Oh mom would love that. She doesn't even know we're friends again."
"No time like the present, right? Hey, at least it won't be boring."
"Can't argue with that," Cuddy said with a shrug. "I guess she's got to find out eventually."
So he showed up. Arlene was sitting in a chair, knitting, as the chemicals were being pumped into her bloodstream. Cuddy was in a waiting chair, typing something onto her laptop.
When Arlene saw House, her face contorted in a mixture of shock and anger.
"What the hell is he doing here?" she barked. The room had the hushed, respectful hum of doctor's offices and libraries. Her piercing voice broke the tranquility. The other patients looked at her, annoyed.
"Mom, I invited him," Cuddy said, in a quiet voice that she hoped would be contagious.
Arlene glared at her.
"Don't tell me you guys are…?"
"Just friends, Arlene. Chillax," House said. "We are not doing the horizontal mamba."
"Yet," Arlene groaned "This is my worst nightmare." She put her head in her hands, dramatically. "Why me?"
"I figured the only thing more powerful than cancer was your hate toward me. So let it all out. Let the rage therapy begin!"
"When did they even let you out of prison?" she said. "Aren't degenerates like you supposed to behind bars?"
"Prison was so 2011. Rehab was 2012. And now my new favorite pastime is stalking you!"
He walked up to her, checked the dosage of her meds.
"They should probably up the DTICs by 20 milligrams," he said to Cuddy. She nodded.
Then he bent toward Arlene.
"What other meds are you on?"
"How am I supposed to know? I'm not a doctor."
"Good point," House said. "Why should you possibly take an active interest in your own treatment?" He turned back to Cuddy, who rattled off a list of meds that Arlene was taking.
"Good," he said. Then, to Arlene: "And still taking your daily vitamins?"
"Of course," Arlene said. "I'm no dummy."
"Bzzzz!" he said—the game show wrong answer noise. "Actually that was a trick question. The vitamins counteract the chemo. Stop taking them."
"Mom, I told you to stop taking your vitamins two weeks ago!" Cuddy protested.
"That's absurd! What kind of doctor tells you to stop taking vitamins?"
"The one who is your daughter and wants the best for you and the other one who wants the best for …your daughter," House said.
Arlene shrugged grumpily.
"Makes no damn sense."
"You're putting poison in your body to hopefully get better. Nothing makes sense, Arlene."
Then he peered at her.
"Nice hair, by the way," he said. "Very glamorous. Gives off a Rita Hayworth vibe."
And, despite herself, Arlene Cuddy smiled.
######
A few weeks later, Cuddy left Arlene alone at chemo for an hour so she could run some errands.
When she came back, she was shocked to see House sitting in a chair that he had pulled up next to her mother. They were playing gin rummy.
Arlene was wearing a baseball cap that read: "World's Worst Patient."
"You like my new hat?" Arlene said proudly. "A gift from House."
"I'm going to buy her a new one that says, 'World's Worst Card Cheater," House said.
"I'm not cheating! He's just a sore loser!"
"You have a queen of diamonds shoved up your sleeve!"
Arlene looked down.
"I have no idea how that got there," she said, hastily removing it.
"Since when did you two become such buds?" Cuddy said, amused.
"We're not buds," Arlene said. "I'm a captive audience!"
House shrugged.
"Most of my best friends feel they can't escape me—one way or another," he said, eyeing Cuddy.
She laughed.
"Stop jibber-jabbering and play cards, you idiot," Arlene said.
######
House became a regular fixture at Arlene's chemo sessions—playing cards with her, giving her good natured shit—until she got pneumonia and had to be hospitalized.
She was getting weak, looking sunken and ghostly white. And everyone knew it was just a matter of time.
"What's he doing here?" Julia said, stepping into her mother's hospital room one afternoon, shooting an angry glance in House's direction.
"I invited him," Arlene said, in a voice that said, "End of discussion."
That night, House drove Cuddy home. Rachel was spending the night with Julia and the kids.
"My mom's dying," she said to him.
"I know," he said. "I'm sorry."
"I'm going to be an…orphan," she said.
"Little Orphan Cuddy," he said, smiling at her affectionately.
"Shut up, it sucks!"
"I know it does," he said, serious this time. "I know."
And then, she hugged him and he held her, tightly, and she did dissolve into tears—just like his wildest dreams—and it was the first time she'd allowed herself to really cry since the diagnosis. And House's shirt got wet and his leg hurt because he was trying so hard to be still and strong—to be her rock— but he didn't care, because he was holding her and she needed him.
When they parted, she wiped her eyes and gave a sheepish laugh.
"Thanks," she said. "I think I needed that."
"So did I."
"I guess sometimes falling apart isn't all bad."
#####
Cuddy was torn about whether or not to let Rachel see Arlene.
"I don't want to upset her," Cuddy said to House.
"Life is upsetting," House said. "She's going to learn that sooner or later."
"I was hoping later."
"But she's going to regret not saying goodbye to her grandmother."
Cuddy nodded ruefully.
So she brought Rachel to the hospital the next day. Rachel was wearing a nice new dress—navy blue and white—and her hair was neatly combed, with barrettes.
She hovered outside Arlene's room, tugging at the collar of her dress, looking anxious. All the older grandkids were already inside, along with Julia and her husband Michael.
"Do I have to go in?" Rachel said.
"You don't have to if you really don't want to," Cuddy said hesitantly. "But I wish you would.
"Actually, you kinda do have to," House said, much to Cuddy's surprise.
Rachel gave him a questioning look. "I do?" she said.
"You do," House said. "Because nana wants to say goodbye. And I know you want to say goodbye, too. It's gonna suck, but you're going to do it. Because you're brave."
"I'm brave?" Rachel said.
"Totally. Who tried that oyster off my plate that one time?"
"I did," Rachel said. "It was sooo gross, I cried."
"That was probably a bad move on my part. But you tried it, right? I was 35 before I tried my first oyster. And who fell off her tricycle and dusted herself off and got right back on?"
"I did?"
"That's right. You did. You didn't even have kneepads on. You laughed in the face of kneepads. That's how I know you're going in."
Rachel looked at House, then Cuddy. "I'm brave," she said, almost to herself. Then she took a deep breath—and marched in.
"Thank you," Cuddy mouthed to House, following her.
It wasn't as scary as Rachel thought it would be. Nana looked tiny and weak and the room smelled funny, but she was still nana. She had chocolate mints for Rachel under her pillow, and she squeezed her hand and told her what a big girl she was and how much she loved her and then she said "guess what? pickle butt" which was Rachel's favorite joke and they both laughed.
"I love you, nana," Rachel said, and Cuddy wiped away a tear.
After a brief visit, Arlene grew weary. The nurse said it was time for everyone to clear out.
"Wait," Arlene said, as they all filed out of her room. "I want to talk to him alone." She was gesturing to House.
"Him?" Julia said, annoyed.
"Me?" House said, shocked.
"Yeah, you."
So everyone else left and House was standing there, alone with Arlene Cuddy.
"I need you to promise me something," she said, in a voice so weak it was barely audible.
"Anything for you, my favorite little battle-axe."
"I want you to promise me that you won't be a schmuck and that you'll stay sober and take care of them, okay?"
House swallowed hard.
"Okay," he said, nodding. "I promise."
#####
Arlene died three days later.
Because of his leg, House couldn't be a pallbearer and he felt like shit about it.
He arrived at the funeral, with Wilson. Most of the staff of Princeton Plainsboro was there, along with many of the doctors and nurses from Trenton General.
Add to that Arlene's mahjong buddies, and it was a full house.
House spotted Cuddy, wearing all black, her hair pulled up in a bun—tasteful and beautiful as ever. Her eyes were rimmed with red, but she was definitely keeping it together.
House and Wilson were about to take a seat in the back pew when Cuddy gestured in their direction.
"She wants you," Wilson said.
"No," House said, uncertainly. "I'm pretty sure she's gesturing toward you."
"House, get over there," Wilson said, practically giving him a small shove.
So he limped down the aisle, to the front row.
"Will you sit with us?" Cuddy said—and she patted the seat between her and Rachel.
A tiny murmur went through the crowd as House sat next to them.
"Is that him?" House heard some people saying. And "I can't believe she's even talking to him."
House was feeling self-conscious and a bit out of sorts until Rachel, oblivious to the gossip, took her tiny hand and put it on his.
The funeral was nice, with lots of loving tributes and lots of laughs. Everyone, it seemed, had a fond story to share about Arlene, describing her famous obstinance and toughness.
"She was hard on me, my whole life," Cuddy said, her eyes moist, during her eulogy. "And because of that, she made me the woman I am today. I love you, mom."
They sat shiva at Cuddy's house and House was as helpful as he had ever been—filling drinks, collecting dirty plates, answering the door.
"Who is that man and what have you done with Gregory House?" Wilson said to Cuddy, chuckling.
"He's…helping," Cuddy said, smiling.
Later, Cliff, the Trenton General endocrinologist who had the hots for Cuddy, approached her in the kitchen.
"Eight months ago, you're running away from this guy in a restaurant and now he's making like he's your significant other at your mother's funeral?" he said, a slight edge of disapproval in his voice.
Cuddy looked at House, who had been cornered by two of Arlene's mahjong buddies.
"He's been my significant other this whole time," Cuddy said. "It just took me a while to realize it."
It was 10 pm by the time everyone left. Rachel was already in bed. Cuddy collapsed onto the couch, wearily. House was still wandering around, throwing paper plates into the trash.
"Come," she said. "Sit with me."
So he did. He loosened his tie, so it dangled loosely around his neck, and leaned back on the couch.
"Long day," he said, with a sigh.
"Longest day ever."
"You did great," he said to her.
"So did you," she said.
"All I did was stand around admiring you," he said. "I'm good at that. I've had years of practice."
She smiled.
"House, I want to say thank you. For everything. You've been my rock these past few months."
"That's all I've ever wanted to be."
She turned to him.
"I'm so glad you're back in my life."
"I am too."
And then, much to his great surprise, she leaned over and kissed him.
The kiss, although soft and sweet, sent an electric current throughout his entire body. He didn't know how to take it. It was on the lips, her mouth slightly parted. But it still could have been perceived as friendly.
Then Cuddy angled her body a bit, and kissed him again—harder, her tongue inside him—a no-doubt-about-it kiss. He felt himself begin to get excited.
"Stay with me tonight," she whispered.
"Cuddy, we just buried your mother," he protested, cautiously.
"I know. And it's on days like this that you start taking stock of your life, realizing what's important to you. Who's important to you," She caressed his face, kissed him again. "Like you."
"But I don't think. . ."
"I'm not asking for sex—yet," she said, with a sultry smile. "Just hold me. Be with me."
He put his arms around her gratefully.
"I accept," he said.
THE END