Once again, thank you for your interest in my work! I'll leave you now with the first part of the third chapter (I decided to split it in two as I did with the last one, you'll guess why). We reached the first turning point of the story, and I'm pretty sure not all of you will like it, but I hope you trust the journey anyway. As I said in the last update, we still have a long way to go. Well... enjoy! :)
III. The Story (pt. 1)
As weeks passed by, Cuddy realized coming back to Princeton was the best choice she could ever make. She had missed this job so much. Her career always played a big role on her personal happiness, and it seemed like being Dean of Medicine at PPTH could really make her feel fulfilled.
Also, her new house was now fully furnished and all her stuff was finally unpacked. She really liked the final result, it was very cozy and really felt like home. Even her mother complimented her on her house, which was rather unusual.
Rachel was thriving too, in her new school. As every mom, Cuddy initially had a few concerns about the new teachers, the new environment, but her little girl was doing great. She was a very smart kid after all.
On the "House front", no news as well. As she expected, House didn't bother her again after what happened in Wilson's office. He never tried to talk to her again, no handwritten notes, no roses, no emails, no calls. Every time work was involved, he sent a fellow, usually Chase, and she sent her personal assistant. Chase would get Cuddy's approval on risky procedures, and Jones would bring the team new cases.
Moreover, House did his hours of clinic duty every week, wearing his lab coat as she requested, and actually tried to be nice to the patients. At least, that was what she suspected, as she still hadn't received any complaints. He was always punctual, never left early. Everything was going great.
Except for one not-so-little thing.
Just because she didn't interact with House anymore, it didn't mean she couldn't see him: she saw him in the hallways, in the cafeteria, in the clinic. Over the weeks, she started noticing something. His way of limping wasn't always the same.
In the first days after she arrived, she remembered thinking how clumsily he was walking. It looked like he couldn't even lean on his bad leg.
Then, one day, about a week after the episode in Wilson's office, she saw him in the cafeteria.
With crutches.
She had never seen House with crutches, not since his infarction. She worried, a little bit. It was none of her business and she didn't care, but it was instinct. Medical instinct, she told herself. Anyway, the following day he had his cane back again.
After that moment, however, she observed him more closely. Every day or so, she would quickly glance at him while he was doing clinic duty, and it didn't take long for her to figure out that there was something she was missing. Over the following 3-4 weeks, his limp improved a lot. Like, from-crutches-to-almost-no-limp a lot. And that, to Cuddy, could mean only one thing: he was on something.
She checked with the pharmacy, but found the only thing he was taking was ibuprofen, which didn't make any sense. He couldn't be clean from Vicodin and walk so well. There was something else, some drug he was obviously addicted to, and didn't want anyone to know.
The final clue was a Monday in the first days of March when for the first time she saw him without his cane. She couldn't believe her eyes. She was so shocked that she went to his office, while he was in the clinic, just to see if maybe he had forgotten it there. But he hadn't. The cane was nowhere to be found.
House had come to work without it.
That was the sign that she had to talk to him, again. She needed to know what was going on. As the Dean of Medicine, she was responsible for both her doctors and her patients, and if House was on some drug, that appeared to be even stronger than Vicodin, then she had to know.
She briefly considered talking to Wilson first, but she soon came to the conclusion that it would be useless. Whatever House was taking, Wilson was clearly enabling him, so he was not going to tell her anything. Not that she didn't trust Wilson, she did. A lot, actually. She just knew him better: he would protect House at all costs, as he always did.
On Tuesday House came to work with his cane again, but Cuddy had already made up her mind. She had to talk to him. It was the last thing she wanted to do, but she just had to.
So, in the afternoon that same day, for the first time in almost two months she sent Jones to his office without a new case.
"So, who is the sick person we are going to heal today?" House asked theatrically, as he saw Cuddy's PA walking into his office.
"No new case" she replied, leaning on the door, "Dr. Cuddy says she wants to see you in her office before you go home later"
"All right" he said, nodding his head slowly, and Jones left.
That was actually unexpected. Cuddy wanted to see him?
He quickly thought about what happened recently, maybe he had done something wrong, something "against the rules" and she wanted to kick his ass again, but he couldn't think of anything. Always punctual. Always done clinic duty, with the stupid white coat always on. Damn, he even tried to be nice to his patients.
As for the other rules, he respected those as well. Lisa Cuddy was back to be a memory, a fantasy which only visited him in his mind, usually at nigh (or while he was in the shower). Of course he would see her around, it's the kind of thing that happens when who people work in the same hospital, but he always tried to avoid her.
To be honest, there had been a couple of occasions where he thought he could randomly tell her something. One time, a piece of paper fell off the pockets of her coat. He was tempted to pick it up and limp after her, but eventually he didn't. He did pick it up, but then he gave it to the nurses.
I regret the day I met you.
Another time, she saw her having a coffee with Wilson in the cafeteria. He could have joined them, maybe sit next to his friend and try to say something nice. Once again, he didn't.
You don't deserve anything.
Then, one last time, recently, he just got a glimpse of her in the conference room and thought she looked even more beautiful than usual. He pondered on the idea of sending her a nice email, a random compliment, but then he rethought it.
I hate you.
So yeah, she had no reason for wanting to meet him.
Two hours later, House knocked at her office door.
"Come in" Cuddy said.
He slowly walked in, didn't bother to take a seat. Seeing that he wasn't going to sit down, she got up from her chair as well.
"Your redhead said you wanted to see me" he said in a flat tone. He just wanted to know what he did wrong and deal with it.
He's getting to the point, she thought, so she decided to do the same.
"I need to know which kind of drug you are taking" she began.
House gave her a puzzled look and she took it as a clue to keep talking.
"I checked with the pharmacy" she continued, "it says you are taking ibuprofen. I need to know what else"
"Well, if the pharmacy says I only take ibuprofen, then I must be also taking something else. Your logic is flawless, Dr. Cuddy" he said in a mocking tone.
She didn't let his reaction influence her. She was expecting something like that.
"I've noticed your way of walking. Less than two month ago you looked like you could barely stand, and yesterday you came to work without your cane. Now, I think that's a good reason to assume you're on something" she explained, trying to remain as calm as possible.
"Well, I am clean. Have been for a while. I just have some very bad days, and some very good days, but I'm not taking anything. Can I go?" he retorted.
Cuddy folded her arms to her chest. She hadn't planned to lose her temper, but it seemed like there was no other choice when House was involved.
"Do you think I was born yesterday? I've known you for thirty years, and I know you are lying, so drop the act and just tell me what is going on" she snapped.
"Why do you even care?! The last time we talked you were pretty clear about how much you don't give a crap about me! What has changed?!"
"This is not about me caring. I am the Dean of Medicine of this hospital, and if one of my doctors is on drugs, then I have the right to know" she replied, somewhat upset, but still trying to maintain some control over herself.
House sighed, thinking of a way out of this uncomfortable discussion.
"Then, as the Dean of Medicine, the only thing you need to know is that what I am taking is not dangerous for the hospital. Can I go?" he said slowly.
"So there is something?" she asked again.
He looked away before nodding his head.
"And what is it? Methadone? A new experimental drug?"
"It is nothing that can harm the patients or put your hospital in jeopardy", he repeated, slowly pronouncing every word, "Ask Wilson if you don't believe me. Can I go?"
"I don't want to ask Wilson, I want you to tell me what it is"
When she saw him lowering his head, defeated, Cuddy thought she was finally getting somewhere.
"I can't tell you" he muttered.
She bit her lip. If he really couldn't tell her, then maybe it was something even worse than what she thought. At this point, letting him go was not an option anymore. She had to know the truth.
"Look" she started saying calmly, "I'm not going to fire you. Just tell me what it is, and I can figure something out. Regulated doses, regular health checks, we have done this before, but I have to know what it is"
House took a deep breath, as he looked at her again.
"You really want to know what it is?" he asked.
She nodded.
"Fine" he said.
Then everything happened in a matter of seconds, but to her it felt in slow motion.
She saw him starting to walk towards her, reaching the other end of the desk. She saw him lifting his bad leg and resting it on one of the chairs right in front of her. She saw him bending over, grabbing the lower end of his pants and pulling it up a few inches.
Then the time stopped.
Metal.
There, where is leg was supposed to be, there was only a metal bar. Her mouth fell agape, and for a few seconds she found herself incapable of breathing, moving, staring at anything else but his leg. Or its absence. The room around her started spinning, and she felt the urgent need to sit down.
"Can I go now?"
His voice made her come back to reality. Her mouth was still hanging open when she finally managed to look back at his face. His eyes, instead, were fixed on her desk.
"Wha-what… what happened?" she stammered.
It took a while for him to answer.
"Another infarction" he muttered, his voice barely audible, "Can I go now?"
She nodded, still aghast. After a moment he still hadn't moved, and she realized he wasn't looking at her, so he couldn't have seen her nodding. She pronounced a "Yes" loud enough for him to hear.
As soon as he heard that, he left her office as quickly as he could.
