The Queen Of Hearts
Chapter Four
Someone was patting his cheek and calling his name.
House opened his eyes. He had the full intension of telling whomever it was to 'drop dead'. Then he recalled he was in a hospital bed and it was quite possible he was the one who had 'dropped dead'. That was an unpleasant thought.
"What?" He asked grumpily.
It wasn't anyone he recognized. House looked around for Wilson. He wasn't there. Of course House thought, he had been foisted off on someone else now. Was he really that big a chore? Strike that. Did he need that much supervision? Yes, that was a much better question to ask.
"Why are you here?"
The guy was lowering the left bedrail.
"You have an MRI scheduled. I'm here to get you."
"Where's Dr. Wilson?"
"Went for a shower and to change clothes."
House acknowledged this news with a grunt and a nod.
Of course he did. What use is a rumpled Oncologist? Wilson went home to get freshened up for his patients and grab breakfast. House would have done the same wouldn't he? Nah. Rumpled suited him.
The gurney was brought round and placed on the left side of House's bed. House slid over onto it and eased his right leg over carefully.
The technician from Imaging was prepared to offer help if needed but wasn't going to volunteer. He had heard enough about Dr. House to know better. Plus he liked his hand attached to his wrist thank you very much. Rumor had it that this guy bites.
He waited until House was settled and covered him with a warm cotton blanket. This one had a small hole in it. He knew cotton blankets could be bleached and disinfected and were very hygienic but still you'd think someone would complain that they weren't very warm. But of course that's what a blanket warmer is for.
House was still groggy. He hated being forced from his warm bed and onto a cold gurney. He hated that he was going for his MRI so early in the morning. He hated finding out the results.
He hated the idea that he was alone.
The tech rolled the gurney out of the room and down the hall. Now House was on display. He closed his eyes. He didn't want people to stare. Plus he was getting nauseous. Lying back looking at the ceiling go by did nothing for his stomach. By the time they arrived in Imaging he thought he must have looked green. He certainly felt it. He tried to sit up but between the nausea and his cramping leg all he could manage was to roll to his side.
He vomited. God knows he hadn't wanted to but did all the same. The tech had stepped quickly away and avoided getting any of it on his Sketchers. House could appreciate the fine footwork. House hated getting sick like this. He was embarrassed and as he hadn't eaten anything recently he had stomach bile taste in his mouth. That was enough to make him retch again.
"Are you going to be sick again?"
House managed to say yes.
The tech handed him a container the size of a hotel ice bucket.
House held it up to his mouth and spat into it. He waited. His stomach was settling and he thought he would be okay for the moment.
The tech took back the bucket and asked if House could move over onto the table.
House said yes and the tech waited for him to get unsteadily to his feet. House couldn't put any weight on the right leg so he hopped over and sat on the table. Hopping had been a bad idea. The nausea was rising again. He motioned for the bucket and the tech handed it to him. Nothing came up. House was grateful as his stomach settled again.
"I want Phenergan," House said.
The tech nodded. "I'll make sure they know."
Satisfied he wasn't going to be sick again, House handed back the bucket. He carefully raised his right leg onto the table and slowly lied back.
He would know soon.
The table was moved so that House was inside the MRI machine from the knees up. This wasn't the first time he had an MRI done of his thigh. The last time Wilson had done it for him He had made House laugh speaking through the microphone and saying he was the voice of God.
House wished Wilson were there now. He could use a laugh. Right now nothing seemed very funny.
The door to the Imaging room opened and closed. From the inside of the MRI House couldn't see who had opened the door. He didn't know if that person had just poked their head in to see if the room was in use or if they had stayed.
The door opened again. In a beat or two it closed. Then the process was repeated.
House was a little unhappy. This wasn't a zoo. He wasn't on display for all to see. He adjusted his gown for modesty sake, just in case. Did everyone in the hospital have to know about his business?
"Are you ready?" The tech asked.
"No, but have at it," House replied.
"You'll do fine," said a second voice.
Wilson. He made it back in time for the MRI, loyal, supportive, and concerned Wilson.
"You're late."
"Stopped to get you some pancakes."
"You're kidding."
"Yes. Now shut up and let's get this over with."
House smiled. He should have known that Wilson would not let him go through this alone. It wasn't in Wilson's nature to let someone down.
He let out a breath. House didn't realize he was so anxious. Wilson being there made him feel better. He couldn't say why. He still had the MRI and the results to get through.
The machine began roaring as it came to life. Did every patient that ever had an MRI liken it to being placed in a dryer? House could see their point.
The minutes ticked by and House felt himself getting restless. Why wasn't this over yet? Hadn't he been in here at least thirty minutes? Okay maybe it was closer to twenty. Maybe less. It was hard to be objective when your future was in the offing.
The sound was winding down. It was over. House waited to hear Wilson's voice telling him what was or wasn't seen.
It was very quiet.
That was a bad sign.
The table moved and House emerged from the machine.
He looked up into the face of James Wilson.
House could feel his stomach tighten. He held his breath.
Wilson smiled.
There was nothing to be seen.
House let out his breath in a small chuckle as relief poured through him. He didn't have a new infarction. He wouldn't lose his leg.
The gurney was brought back to the side of the table and House sat up. He eased his right leg over and followed it with his left. He began to stand but the right leg buckled.
Wilson was there. He caught House.
That's right, House thought. No infarction but still in pain. Now what was causing it?
Wilson went from smiling best friend to worried best friend smoothly. The smile had slipped into round-eyed concern, then to frowning puzzlement. What was causing House's leg to cramp this badly?
House laid back and the tech covered him with the blanket. He waited for Wilson to open the door.
The sound reminded House that he had heard Wilson come in. House also recalled hearing the door open and close twice more. Who…?
House was returned to his room. He was sick again almost immediately.
Wilson wasted no time getting the Phenergan for the motion sickness and injected it into House's hip.
Cuddy hurried down the hallway. She wanted to get back to her office without being seen by anybody who would make gossip fodder of it. Wilson knew of course. He had been there when she opened the door to Imaging. She hadn't seen him in the control booth until she was all the way inside the room. She was there for House.
It was really stupid of her. Wilson would never have let House go through it alone any more than she would have. Seeing that Wilson was there gave Cuddy permission to leave. House didn't need to be fawned over. He did need a friend to reassure him and share the news good or bad.
Cuddy entered her office. She would hear from Wilson if it were bad news. She hoped he would tell her if it was good news but assumed the adage 'no news was good news' still applied.
She sat behind her desk and brought her schedule up on her computer. She had a couple of meetings with insurance reps, a budget report to finalize and a meeting of her department heads.
Minus one she thought ruefully. Then she smiled. Since when had he ever tried to be at one of her meetings? Well at least this time House had a good excuse. Today she would not only dismiss him but the Head of Oncology too if need be.
She sighed. God she was such a coward. She had nearly run from Imaging so Wilson wouldn't confront her. She didn't want people to see her there. There were already rumors about her and House. She also didn't want to see him. What would she say to him? 'Sorry, it was all a mistake.'
She shook her head. She couldn't tell him that.
Then what would she say?
Last night was impulsive. Cuddy didn't do things impulsively.
Then why had she kissed him? Was it simply that she felt sorry for House? What an awful thought. If that were the whole reason then he would never forgive her. Truth be told she wasn't sure she could forgive herself.
Cuddy stretched. It had been a difficult night followed by an early morning.
She had arrived home somewhere around two-thirty in the morning. Wilson had taken over watching House. They had argued. Why had she told him she kissed House? She knew he wouldn't absolve her of such a sin. She knew he would be shocked and angry. What had she expected? House couldn't defend himself so Wilson did it for him. Cuddy wondered what it must be like to have a friendship that strong. Cuddy had acquaintances. Real friendship required time. Having a job like hers and a child left her with no time for a commitment like that.
By the time she got home she was exhausted. The house was dark and quiet. She slipped off her shoes. Seventeen hours in the same pointy-toed designer footwear would give anyone achy feet. Maybe she would wear flats tomorrow. She smiled at herself. Who was she kidding?
She curled and uncurled her toes on the carpet before walking into the kitchen to get a bottle of water from the refrigerator. She returned via the dinning room.
There it was on the table, a huge bouquet of roses in a beautiful vase.
Cuddy switched on the light to get a better look at it. There was a card of course. Not opening it would have been callous, safe but spineless. Cuddy opened the envelope. She looked at the picture of an old fashioned heart with lace and flowers. She read the verse and opened it. Inside was just as precious. Just as sweet and loving. Lucas had signed it and included one thing more, 'always and forever'.
She set the card down and leaned over the roses to smell them. They smelled every bit as wonderful as they looked. Roses. She was such a fool.
She sat down at the table and reread the card.
Lucas was the one she wanted. He was great with Rachel. He was thoughtful, caring and stable. Lucas was a very solid young man. He was everything that House wasn't.
House didn't like kids. House was seldom thoughtful. House didn't care.
House was NOT stable.
No he wasn't, especially now. House couldn't stand on his own two feet. Was that her fault?
Cuddy took a sip of water and considered. She offered herself the same points Lucas had.
The infarction was not her fault. She had saved his life by offering a third option to Stacy.
Those two points of view were drowned out by a small petulant voice telling her House could have been right. That the three days he went through with the blockage in his thigh were due to doctors in her hospital dismissing his pain. House hadn't started out being addicted to pain medication. Being a cripple in chronic pain had done that. Her fault.
So was that it? She simply felt guilty? No, she also felt sorry for him.
That was exactly what House didn't want or need. It also wasn't entirely true.
She didn't feel sorry for him in college. He was brilliant and sexy and a damn good time. They had a fantastic evening and the next day he was expelled. He hadn't called. He just vanished leaving Cuddy feeling…
How did she feel? Was she angry with him? Hurt? Disappointed?
Disappointed. That's how she felt. She had been carefully watching him, trying to be in the same places he was. She audited a class just to be near him. Finally he was with her only to disappear the next day. Sometimes life wasn't fair.
And sometimes life was capricious. After all those years he limped back into her life, lover in tow, suffering from an infarction in his leg. By the time she took on his case personally it was too late. The muscle had died and he was in danger of going the same way.
Fast forward to last night.
House was in agony, scared and alone.
And she kissed him.
She had thrown all of her carefully considered arguments out of the window and had done what her heart had desired.
Cuddy stopped herself.
"Oh my God," she whispered.
I did what my heart desired.
This wasn't a carefully considered point of view. This was all emotion. This was exactly the wrong way to approach a relationship. She was mature, had a position of authority and she was a mother now. She had to look at things from different perspectives. She couldn't just do things on a whim. It wasn't right. Add to that the fact that she was his boss! How could they have a relationship and still work together? She couldn't just ignore that.
And it isn't fair to him.
She took another sip of water. When did her mouth become so dry?
House. She could hear Wilson in her head. He brought up every point she was now thinking.
What must House have thought? How was he going to deal with what she had done? Was he expecting more from her now?
Cuddy rubbed her eyes. They itched with tiredness. She looked at her watch, three-thirty seven. She needed sleep. She rose from the chair and walked to the bathroom. She got undressed and put on the negligee she wore the night before, put her clothes in the hamper and walked softly into the bedroom.
Lucas was sleeping deeply. Cuddy pulled back the covers and slipped into bed without disturbing him.
When Lucas opened his eyes the next morning he heard the soft click of the bedroom door. In a few minutes he heard another door clicking. A few minutes after that the start of a car's engine followed. He lay in bed and looked up at the ceiling. He was confused and a bit hurt. Rachel's cries disturbed his bemused thoughts.
"I'm coming."
He got out of bed, put his robe on over his pajama pants and tee shirt and went to check on the little girl.
Cuddy drove to Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital cursing herself.
In his room House was feeling less nauseous, a good thing in his opinion. He didn't know what caused the painful cramping. That was a negative thing. Nothing seen on the MRI gave him no new information. Not too helpful. But there wasn't a new infarction in his thigh, a very good thing!
He looked at Wilson.
"What did you have for breakfast?'
Wilson looked up distracted.
"What?"
"When you went home and got all freshened up. Didn't you grab some breakfast?"
"I haven't been home."
House was surprised.
"If you didn't go home…?"
He should have guessed. Wilson had showered at the hospital. He hadn't left his side for more than an hour at best. There it was again, the testament to their friendship. Just as surely as House was there for Wilson's liver lobe operation, Wilson would have stayed with House through the night and been there for the MRI that morning.
"You hungry?" Wilson asked.
House considered the question. Now that he wasn't queasy food was easier to consider.
"Think you could find me some pancakes?"
Wilson smiled.
"What kind of syrup do you want?"
"I get a choice? Thought the cafeteria only had maple or something approximating it."
"They do. I thought I'd get you some at PJ's."
House smiled blissfully. "Marry me."
"Uh uh. I already asked you. I also provided a ring."
"So you did. The answer is yes."
"Too late. I took the ring back. You can't trifle with my feelings you know."
"Too bad," House sighed. "I'm quite a catch."
House shifted his weight on the bed. His leg felt better and this puzzled him. He hadn't received any more pain medication but there was no doubt the thigh wasn't cramping. Put that in the 'good things' column.
"You didn't say what kind of syrup you wanted."
House thought. "I guess it depends on what kind of pancakes you're getting me."
"How about the banana nut?"
That sounded good to House. "Would you have them add chocolate chips?"
"Are you going to have a tantrum if I don't?"
"Probably," House admitted.
"Okay with chocolate chips."
"Topped with whipped cream."
"Are you the same guy who was tossing his cookies just twenty minutes ago?"
"Yes and you're the doctor who made me all better."
"So you're ready to tempt fate?"
"I'm hungry if that is what you're asking."
Wilson grinned and shook his head.
"Don't blame me if you get a tummy ache." He started to leave.
"Ask for some chocolate sauce on the side."
"The capacity your system has for junk still amazes me."
"Nice to know I can still surprise you after all these years honey."
"Be right back," Wilson said as he left the room.
House was left alone with his thoughts. He had several of them.
Why was his leg feeling better? He wasn't complaining mind you, just curious. Also was it going to last?
Then there was the matter of a kiss he may or may not have received from Cuddy. Did it happen or not and if it did where was Cuddy? Was she avoiding him?
Finally there was the question of what to do if the leg got bad again. Should he have the epidural Cuddy suggested? For the moment he could table that debate. He might not need to concern himself with it. He hoped.
He felt a little sleepy. That was the Phenergan at work. He didn't want to go back to sleep so he concentrated on the questions in his mind.
He didn't have enough information about his leg. He knew it hurt all day yesterday. It had certainly hurt when he had tried to get from the MRI table to the gurney. But now it felt as close to normal as it ever got. Maybe the near fall had caused something to loosen? A muscle relaxed and freed him from pain? The MRI had been clear. Maybe it was relief upon hearing the news.
That was medicine. Sometimes things just got better for no reason. Just like sometimes things went badly in spite of everything a doctor does. If you couldn't accept that then get out of the kitchen.
Okay, he couldn't accept that. Well it was his leg after all. He did have a vested interest. So why, Dr. House, was your patient's leg feeling better?
Just because a clot didn't appear on the MRI didn't mean it wasn't there to begin with.
Okay that was a sound premise. He could start with that.
His musing was interrupted by the arrival of a phlebotomist. Right, he had requested a PT/INR to check the clotting quality of his blood. He let her clean the tip of his middle finger with an alcohol wipe. She pricked the finger and took a drop of blood, which she placed on a hand held device similar to a diabetic blood meter. The waiting began.
The meter finished with a beeping signal. And the winner was…
One point five; his blood was too thick. He would need to be on the Coumadin Cuddy had suggested.
The blood clot theory was back on the table. His blood had never been too thick before. He blamed Wilson for making him eat all those 'healthy' vegetables. See, 'good' wasn't good for him. 'Told ya so.'
He settled back more comfortably on the pillow.
Taking the Coumadin would thin his blood back to a therapeutic level and treat any blood clots. Problem solved. He could move on to other topics. There was no longer a mystery to be solved regarding his leg.
His mind jumped to the next big issue.
Was he kissed?
House scratched his cheek. He stopped, then brushed his hand over the place he had just scratched. It brought back the ghost of a memory. It had meaning, significance.
He closed his eyes and repeated the gesture.
In his mind he pictured someone stroking his cheek. He was in terrible pain and someone was gently touching his face. Then he saw her. Cuddy was there by his side. She passed her hand gently over his cheek. He was falling asleep. She had just given him Demerol and he was grateful. She touched him.
It had been real. He was certain of it. He hadn't been asleep. He was groggy and beginning to doze but he was still conscious of the action. The kiss was real too. He hadn't dreamt it. He wasn't sleeping. He wasn't drugged. He was awake at the time. He was in horrible pain but he had been awake.
House ran his index finger over his lips. He closed his eyes. He remembered the whisper of a touch on his lips. He had returned the gentle pressure and then gained access to her mouth. She had rewarded that deed with a more significant act of her own. Then something made her leave him.
The ring of a cell phone filled his mind's ear. She had a call and took it outside his room. When she returned his leg was killing him almost literally.
That's what drove it from his mind. The pain was excruciating and all he was able to focus on was stopping it. A kiss can mean very little when you're afraid of dying. The whole 'kiss for a dying man' thing in movies was a fairy tale. If you're going to give a meaningful kiss do it when a guy's healthy. Waiting till he's suffering, scared and full of drugs isn't fair at all.
Then it hit him with the force of a truck.
It wasn't meant to be fair. It was meant as a gesture from someone who felt sorry for him.
House hurt. It wasn't his leg that besieged him. It was the memory of a kiss without meaning. He felt stupid and betrayed. Hadn't he learned anything from Cameron's attention to him? Did he really think so highly of himself to believe a beautiful woman would just fall into his arms?
House's ego took a direct hit.
I'm fifty, graying, crippled and slightly crazy. I want my own way and I'm not too worried who I step on to get it.
She's beautiful, younger than me, intelligent usually, and has a kid. What do I have to offer her?
House was still brooding when Wilson returned with breakfast.
House ate none of it.
Wilson couldn't help but notice. After all he had gone to PJ's in the snow to get those pancakes.
"Stomach bothering you again?"
House looked out the window.
"No. Just not as hungry as I thought. I need to take Coumadin," he added watching the snowfall.
Wilson moved the container of pancakes off the bedside table.
"What's the level?"
"One point five."
"Too thick. You're thinking blood clot?"
"Seems the most likely suspect."
"You seem better."
"It doesn't hurt like it did when I went for the MRI."
"That's a good thing isn't it? I'll order you the Coumadin."
House turned his attention back to Wilson. He was speaking of his medical issues while focusing on the emotional ones.
"Have you seen Cuddy this morning?"
Wilson picked up House's water pitcher.
"You're out of ice. I'll get you some fresh water too."
"You haven't seen her."
Wilson put down the pitcher. "Not since last night."
"You yelled at her."
"You heard?"
"Yes."
"I thought you were sleeping."
"So did I."
"I'm sorry we woke you."
"So am I," House answered sincerely.
Wilson let out a sigh. He had hoped that House would never find out about the dressing down he gave Cuddy in the hall. This was the last thing House needed.
No matter how rough and tough House appeared to others there was an emotional being inside, someone who could be hurt, someone who had been hurt far too often.
Wilson didn't feel sorry for House. He felt friendship for him. He genuinely liked the guy. Oh yes, Wilson knew House was a jerk. He was also self-serving and a pain in the ass, but who wasn't? House was also the best time Wilson had ever had in his life. With House life was never dull. With House you had permission to be a self-serving, pain in the ass jerk too. That was something to be applauded in a friend and roommate. What was wrong with that?
"House…"
"I know. She kissed me and it didn't mean a thing. You were trying to protect me. Thanks but I'm not eight."
"I know you don't need protecting. I just thought she'd crossed a line."
House nodded once. He didn't really want to go any deeper into the event. It was done and over. Time to move on to other less personal and painful things.
"So those hot cakes still hot?"
Wilson smiled.
"I doubt it."
Wilson opened the container and looked inside.
"They're lukewarm and the whipped cream has melted. Well at least we know they use the real stuff."
"Chocolate syrup on the side?"
"Of course."
"Give 'em here."
Wilson moved the bedside table over House's lap and handed him the foam container and a bag holding a plastic knife and fork wrapped in a couple of napkins.
"I could get those warmed up for you," Wilson offered.
House was already opening the container and starting to put chocolate syrup on the food.
"…Or not," Wilson said chuckling.
House was placing the first forkful in his mouth. Wilson pulled up a chair and balanced a similar foam container on his knee.
"What did you get?" House managed to utter through a mouth full of spongy goodness.
"Blueberry and swallow before you speak again. God, smells like an explosion at the Hershey's factory."
"I hope that isn't a euphemism for having my bedpan changed."
"No and yuck!"
"It's okay," House said taking another bite that had a chunk of banana in it. "I'm not on one."
Wilson was ready to set his breakfast aside. He eyed House suspiciously.
"You're trying to gross me out aren't you? You are casting covetous looks at my pancakes."
"Am not. Besides coveting is a sin," House said stuffing his mouth with another bite.
"So is lying, which you are guilty of," Wilson retorted toying with a blueberry.
"Yes but I don't… No, wait I do that one…and that one…and I've done that."
"Well?"
"There's only ten right?"
"From what I've read, yeah."
House wrinkled his brow thinking hard.
"I haven't made any graven images."
"Congratulations."
"We all have our standards." House replied shrugging.
He finished off his breakfast and ended up with part of Wilson's too.