Chapter Four

~ The Road To Hell ~

In the bathroom in her office, Cuddy sat on the down toilet seat, watching the pregnancy test. Her lips were pressed into a tense, thin line, and her chin rested on her clasped hands. She closed her eyes, and she swallowed, her mouth dry with nervousness. A lump sat in the base of her throat, and another one rested at the bottom of her stomach. For a second, the world had stopped.

Until the clatter of wood on wood caused her to literally teleport across the small bathroom.

Biting her lip, she jerked open the door, glaring at the occupant that had so rudely intruded on her personal moment. "What the hell do you want," she snarled, not bothering to keep the anger out of her voice.

He sneered at her. "God, Cuddy. You think getting a visit from Doctor Love every night for the past two weeks would lighten you up." He glanced inside the bathroom, and he saw the pregnancy test she had bought at Walgreen's on the way to work resting on the sink ledge. He blinked at it, then his eyes returned to her, his expression somewhat softened, but ultimately unreadable. "Why don't you go to the Clinic, get a blood draw."

She worried her bottom lip for a second before responding. "Because I don't want anyone to know." She sighed. "Because I want to be pretty sure myself."

He nodded, a short jerky motion. "It's hard enough to be let down by something." He paused, never breaking eye contact. "It's even harder to be let down in front of someone else."

She nodded, then composed herself. "What do you want."

"A quickie," he grinned at her. "I'm bored, and I want something to do. Figured you were up for another ride on my rod of love."

She rolled her eyes, giving him a dirty look. "We're not having this conversation," she informed him, stepping into her office, leaving the test behind. Not that she didn't want to find out; she was walking on pins and needles, but she didn't want him to find out. It's none of his business, she told herself. It's not like he would care, anyway. He's made it perfectly clear that he's not interested in being a father. He's just in it for the sex.

"Really?" His incredulous voice broke through her thoughts. "I thought I initiated this conversation." She glared at him, and he smirked. "You're tense. An injection would do you some good."

The man had a one tract mind. "The answer is no, House." She walked him over to her door. "If you're really that bored, there are about three years worth of Clinic hours you could be getting caught up on." She put her hand on the handle of the door, ignoring his disappointed glower.

"But," he whined, "there are sick people out there. I could catch something from them." He pouted at her, thrusting out his lower lip like a angry toddler.

"You're a doctor," she hissed at him. "I'm sure you'll be fine." He opened his mouth to whine again, but she held up a hand. "House. Clinic. Now," she told him in a voice that brokered no arguments. She opened the door for him, motioning him out.

He gave her a dirty look, then loudly, he announced. "I don't really think you need ass implants, Doctor Cuddy. Yours is big enough as it is." She felt her cheeks flush, but all she did was grind her teeth as he walked away, leaving the other doctors around to stare at her. Fortunately, they were so used to Housian tactics that they quickly went back to what they were doing before his outburst. Only a few green med students gaped open-mouthed at the blatant insubordination and disrespect the cranky, gimpy doctor had for his boss.

Cuddy wasn't sure that was a good thing.

[H] [H] [H]

House limped determinedly out of Cuddy's outer office, huffing to himself. Clinic duty! There were worse things in the world to do, but not many. He had been avoiding it all day, but now that he had been forced to go...

He ground his teeth together. He should just bite the bullet and go, but his feet turned into lead weights, not wanting to carry him further. He glanced down the hall at the elevators, lifting an eyebrow. Maybe he could escape to the morgue...

"House!" A young female voice called after him. He threw his head back, rolling his eyes as his fellow, Allison Cameron, came running to catch up with him. "What was that about?" Her perky inquisition irritated him, and he was already irritated.

"Nothing," he barked. "Just trying to get out of Clinic duty." He rolled his head to her. "Not that it's any of your business," he drawled, hoping she would get the point.

"I think you just made it my business," she informed him. Her air of superiority annoyed him. "Actually, I think you just made it the entire hospital's business," her voice had an irritating note of mockery in it, and it grated on his nerves.

He glared at her. "I always make my attitude with Cuddy's Clinic policy public." He jerked his chin up. "Go back to the office, see what the boys have to do. If you find anything interesting, page me. I don't want to spend more time down here than I have to."

"That wasn't about Cuddy's Clinic policy," she reasoned out. Oh god, he groaned to himself as she began her thesis on why he did what he did. Why the hell does she care that I did what I always do. Humiliate Cuddy so that no one suspect's what's going on. "Something else is going on," she continued. "I bet your trying for a power play," she told him, a gleeful grin on her face. "There's something you want, that Cuddy can give you."

A blow job. He rolled his eyes. Mind blowing sex. Ta-tas that can fill my hands, and a pussy that I can fuck. Wait a minute, do I really think about sex this much? I need to get laid. Right now. To bad Cuddy won't fuck me in the office. I bet it would be so fucking amazing. "That's exactly it!" The sarcasm in his overdone praise was lost on the poor girl. "Now, why don't you mind-meld with Foreman and the ass-kisser on what it's about." She started to open her mouth, but he quickly cut her off. "Or, better yet, why don't you, Brit, and Homie look through all the files on my desk, and see if any one of those would interest me." She glared at him, and he just roll his eyes. "For everyone that you three pick out that won't interst me, you'll have to do an hour of my Clinic duty." She looked like she was going to explode, and he turned and walked away, smirking. Tormenting Cameron always put a smile on his face.

He walked into the Clinic, and he made his way to the nurse's station. "Good morning, Nurse Previn," he gave her the widest smile his face could handle. "How are you this fine day?"

He got a snort for an answer. He and Brenda Previn had tormented each other since he started working for the hospital. She was the head of the nurse's union, and during the last contract negotiations, she had tried to put a clause in just for him. Something about nurse's needing to sign waivers to deal with his patients.

She was serious; he found it endless entertaining.

"Exam Room Four," she told him bluntly, handing him a folder. He opened. "Big fat tongue? Jackpot!" His irritation disappeared, replaced with a child like glee. Christmas had come early this year. He closed the file, and he gave her a bright smile. "I always knew you loved me," he ignored her dirty look, and he practically skipped to the exam room.

He tried very hard to wipe the smile off his face before he entered the exam room. It was difficult, but he managed to do it. He took a seat in front of the guy. "Says here in the chart that this happened during a luncheon?" The big guy nodded. His tongue was so puffed up that it filled his mouth making it difficult to talk. "Does it hurt?" House was determined to get him to say something. He was going to have a great time recounting this to Wilson later.

"Nawh Weawy," the guy forced out. It took every effort of will, but House managed not to break a smile, though he thought he was going to explode. This was amazing.

"This is probably an allergic reaction," House informed him. The guy gave him a duh look. "I'm going to ask you a series of questions, just to get an idea of what you were exposed to. After that, I'll get my minions to run a series of tests on you, to figure out what's wrong." House's inner child was doing backflips. This was amazing, and best of all, the man had a legitimate illness. But fat tongue should be enough to get Cuddy to admit him, at least for the afternoon. It was days like this that made him glad to be a doctor.

The man nodded, looking relieved. "Han Ooo." House fought the urge to giggle like a school girl. This was truly amazing.

After running through a series of questions meant to humiliate the poor bastard, House practically skipped to the elevators. He made his way up to the office, where his fellows were sitting at the conference table. "Gotta case!" he crowed, holding up the patient file. "Big fat tongue. Could be serious."

Cameron blinked at him. "From the Clinic?" she asked, closing the file she was looking at.

"Duh," House made his way to the small counter to pour some coffee.. "Guy's got a temperature of a hundred and three."

Foreman rolled his eyes. "And why do we care?"

"'Cause, we're human beings. That's what we do." He paused, putting the carafe back on the warmer. "Said he was at a luncheon meeting."

"You took his history?" Cameron asked, skeptically.

"Guy looks like Harpo. You should see him." House told her, as if that would explain everything.

Chase read the file. "You asked him what book he's currently reading?"

"It's hilarious to watch him try and talk." House explained. "I asked him anything I could think of." He grinned a little. "Favorite color. 'Blwoo.'" His eyes glittered with mischievous malice. "I asked him if he was sure." He looked up to see Foreman gathering his things in a huff. "Where are you going?"

Foreman snapped his briefcase closed with a resonating click. "You're an ass," he muttered audibly.

"I know," House answered. "Where are you going?" he repeated.

Irritated, Foreman told him, "this is either a toxin, an infection, or an allergic reaction. I assume you gave him epi, so that rules out allergies. Put him on antibiotics in case it's an infection, and if it's a toxin, we'll keep him here overnight., let the swelling go down, send him home." He huffed a little. "I'm goin' to the movies."

Foreman made a move to leave the office, when a balding man in a gray suit entered the office. He glanced around the room calmly. "Which one of you is House?"

The team was puzzled, but not surprised. As many laws as House had broken in the past, they figured it might have been a detective coming to serve papers. It'd happened before.

House himself was equally indifferent to the man. "Skinny brunette, he told the man from over his shoulder, then he turned back to the whiteboard. Big fat tongue was infinitely more interesting than getting legal papers served.

Cameron stood up, but the man just looked at her. "No, that's Doctor Cameron," he said in a soft, calm voice.

That got the team's attention, and House's. Lawyers usually were never interested in the team, nor did they know their names. House turned towards the man, interested. "I'm skinny. How do you know her name?" he asked, cautiously. Something was up.

"I was a patient of yours," the man told him.

House was a little relieved, and annoyed. "Oh, well, if you wanna leave the chocolates downstairs..."

The man quickly pulled a small revolver from his pocket, and the bang it made rang in House's ears. He felt the impact of the bullet driving him back, and he felt the red hot pain fill his abdomen. He crashed to the ground, stunned. His belly went numb and cold. Shock, the word echoed in his mind. I've been shot, and I'm going into shock. He didn't know how bad, but he felt the cold fingers of fear creep through his body, and he struggled to keep his eyes open.

The man stood over him, and he stared wildly into his shooter's eyes. "Shocking." The man commented calmly, keeping the gun trained on him. "Who'd want to hurt you?"

His throat worked to say something, but nothing would come out. His mind went blank, and he heard another loud pop, another sting.

Right before he lost consciousness, he thought about Cuddy, and the possibility of her carrying his child. He thought about dying, and never being there to see the kid from afar, to see if it really had his killer blue eyes.

Then, fade to black.