Hello everyone!
This was originally two separate chapters, but I think it works better as one massive chapter... (especially since I won't be updating this fic, some would say, in the absolutely immediate future, because of finals etc)
Thank you for your patience and your feedback! In this chapter this fic finally becomes an actual crossover. It's my first time writing one. I hope you'll like it and find it realistic, in-character, etc.
Happy holidays, and I'll see you guys next year! ;p
Chapter Six
Upon arriving at San Francisco International Airport, Cuddy walked briskly down the corridor that led to the conveyor belts, where she picked up her suitcase after a short wait. Her heart pounding in her chest, she walked through the arrival gates and immediately saw House waiting for her, his head sticking up behind the crowd of expecting friends and family members. Her breath caught. Without thinking about it, she marched straight to him and wrapped her arms around him. He embraced her right back – or maybe at the same time as her, she wasn't quite sure. It felt like they hadn't seen each other in ten years.
"Hi," he whispered into her hair. She felt her eyes well up with tears of relief. She was glad to see him again, glad that he had almost found their son. If Shaun was in San Jose too, she might be meeting him tomorrow… "How was your flight?" he asked as they pulled away.
"God, I thought we'd never arrive." He took a good look at her with a smile.
"Takes me back," he said as he pointed at her coat, the same one she'd worn when they had flown back from Malaysia. In turn, she ran her hand along the sleeve of his leather jacket.
"You did drive a car here, right?" she asked, knowing he would be insane enough to ride his motorcycle across the country in December.
He nodded. "Too warm here for a winter coat, as you'll soon find out." He started moving in the direction of the exit and she followed him.
"Did you have anything to eat?" she asked.
"Yeah."
"Let's make the drive to San Jose, then."
As he led her towards the parking lot, she texted David to let him know she'd landed safely and was now heading to her hotel. The second they were outside, Cuddy was surprised by how warm it was compared to back home, in D.C. The sun was caressing her face and it was only a few seconds before she unbuttoned her coat and unwrapped her lilac scarf from her neck, shoving it into the pocket where she'd stuffed her leather gloves.
House was parked near the entrance, but he didn't need to tell her which handicapped parking spot his car occupied. She recognized the blue Dodge right away.
She froze, remembering the deafening sounds of walls crumbling and furniture shattering in the other room. The front of his car stared back at her, like it did all those months ago after he'd handed her her hairbrush and left.
Surprised that she wasn't walking beside him anymore, House turned around. He understood what was wrong when he saw how pale she was.
"I'm an idiot," he said. It brought her attention to him.
"I thought it was wrecked. I… It's the same car? Right?" she asked. "You didn't buy the same old, beat-up car?"
"It's the same. Let's get a rental," he said. "Let me just get my bags."
"Okay."
They made their way back to the terminal without a word. They tucked her suitcase, his backpack and his duffel bag into the trunk of their rental car, and headed to San Jose. House drove them down the Bayshore Freeway, along the San Francisco Bay. Cuddy looked out the window.
"I am sorry," he said at one point.
"I know."
But it would take more than that to earn her forgiveness.
He saw some early Christmas decorations here and there, grumbled about them the way he always did. "'You doing anything for Hanukkah?" he asked.
Cuddy turned to him, surprised. "Since when do you care about Hanukkah?"
"It's soon, isn't it?"
"Next week." He nodded. "David's more religious than I am," she answered eventually. "He wants to introduce Rachel to it. But I still want her to have Christmas."
"Your mom must be thrilled."
She chuckled softly. "At least she's not making the trip down to D.C."
Once they were in the city, he started driving around, looking for a hotel. House was wise enough to book them two separate rooms.
Hers was closer to the elevator. She opened the door and turned to him. "It's too late to go see Glassman this afternoon, isn't it?" He nodded. "Then I think I'm gonna get some rest."
"I'll see you tonight for dinner?"
"Okay." She was about to retreat into her room and he was about to go find his down the hall, but he spoke up again.
"I don't want it to hang between us," he said. "What I did."
She pursed her lips. "Me, neither."
"I think it would be best if we talked about it. Tonight."
Cuddy smiled faintly. "This might be the first time that you want to talk about our issues." He had a small smile, too. "I have to call home at 6. Be here at 6:30."
At 6:30 sharp, House knocked on her door. Cuddy opened almost immediately. "I'm just unpacking," she said, as though to apologise for the mess. "I don't know how long we're staying so I don't want to scatter my stuff."
He shut the door behind him and watched her organise the things she'd spread out on the bed, deciding what would go in the dresser and what could stay in the suitcase.
"'You hungry?" she asked as she tucked a couple of sweaters into a drawer. "We can get room service, maybe go outside."
"I can wait."
He sat on a corner of the bed, right next to her toiletry bag. The hairbrush sticking out of it caught his attention. Tortoise-shell handle, natural bristles…
"You kept it," he said as he held it in one hand, ran his thumb against the bristles in the other.
Cuddy leaned against the dresser. "It's a good brush," she replied meekly. But House was lost in his thoughts and she wasn't sure if he had heard her.
"You had left it on the shelves by the sink," he whispered. "I used to just… touch it. Smell the hair that was still stuck in the bristles."
"Did you keep it on purpose or did you forget to put it in the box with my other stuff?" she asked. "I always wondered."
He shrugged. "I don't remember. Freud says it's the same thing anyway."
Cuddy pursed her lips and sat next to him. "Hell, maybe I should have let you keep it."
He handed it back to her. She took it. "You wanted to move on," he answered.
"You didn't."
"There's no moving on from you." She inhaled sharply, surprised by the bluntness of his answer. "When you found me in the bathtub and you stuck around, I thought… I still had a chance. I was willing to do the adult thing, give you your stuff back and move on. But…" He sighed. "When you asked for your brush back, I realised I didn't want to. I was going to try and seduce you when I gave it back to you." He had a small smile at that, which she reciprocated without thinking about it. "And then I saw you and that guy, how quickly you had moved on. I do regret what I did," he assured her, turning to look straight into her eyes. "I was high as a kite, I had no idea what I was doing. You didn't deserve that."
She nodded thoughtfully. "How do you think I felt when you married your whore?" His features froze in shock. "I know all your antics were you being pissed at me and acting out. But that…" She chuckled mirthlessly. "That was a whole other level. That was vicious. If that didn't scream 'I'm moving on from you', then…"
She wiped off a tear that she didn't manage to hold back. He wanted to reach for her arm but didn't dare.
"Why did you do it, House?"
"I did it…"
His throat closed up. He was more moved than he thought by her pain. Their talk stirred up old memories that he'd dulled with Vicodin until then. Even at that time, he could only feel a vague, distant hurt that he'd successfully covered up with drugs, alcohol and prostitutes. Everything he had done, he had done without thinking of the consequences, only eager to make the pain stop.
"I was high," was his explanation, although he could admit it wasn't a very good excuse. "I wanted to stop hurting. I wanted to piss you off."
"I think you did it because you wanted to cheapen what you and I had," she continued softly, looking down at her feet. "You wanted to make it mean nothing. And if it meant nothing, then it didn't hurt."
"It did mean something, Cuddy." He took her hand and she didn't push him away. "It was everything."
"It wasn't everything for me and it should have been," she admitted. "I should have treated you better."
"No…"
"Yes," she insisted. "I was unfair to you. When I thought I had cancer, I wanted you to open up to my pain even though I knew what you had to endure with your leg, with everything else. You were as scared as me and I wanted you to be there for me even though you weren't equipped."
He looked down. She'd just admitted things he had never dared blame her for.
"I regretted my decision every day," she continued as she caressed his thumb with her own. "I was watching you destroy yourself and… I was still mad at you for not being there for me."
"You were upset. Understandably so. And you'd made your decision and were too proud to go back on it."
"And you were too proud to try and get me back."
"That, too."
They shared a small, timid smile. "I shouldn't have neglected your sobriety. You falling off the wagon, it was a big deal. I should have talked to you more. I should have given you a chance to explain yourself."
"I should have been there for you. You have every right to ask for a boyfriend who's there for you when you need it."
"I should have been there for you, too."
They looked into each other's eyes. Just like earlier at the airport, they simultaneously wrapped their arms around each other. They had always been on the same wavelength after all, always been able to know what the other was thinking without speaking. They held on to each other for a while, without a word, simply relishing the other's presence. It had been such a long time since they'd last held each other, she thought she could never have enough of it.
"I missed you," she said softly, her chin bobbing against the crook of his neck. "I still care about you, you ass."
He smiled at the endearing term – endearing for them, anyway. "Me, too," he said as he kissed the back of her neck, his nose buried in her curls.
A loud and sudden borborygmus caused them to laugh.
"Who was that?" Cuddy asked with a chuckle.
"It's you, you always had a loud stomach."
"Dinner out?" she asked.
"I'll go get my jacket."
As they were quite hungry, they decided to eat at the first diner they saw. They would take the time to explore the neighbourhood later.
"Want to see the yearbook picture?" he asked her after they had placed their order.
"Yes!" House pulled out his phone from his blazer, found the picture, and handed it to her. She looked at it for a long time with a moved smile.
"He really doesn't want to be there," she said with a chuckle.
"Send it to yourself," he suggested, which she did. By then the waitress had placed their plates in front of them – a salad for Cuddy and a burger with fries for House.
"Do you think we'll be able to see Shaun tomorrow?"
He shrugged. "He probably doesn't live around here."
"I don't know. I think he'd be pretty attached to that Glassman guy." She watched him take a big bite out of his burger, with the same faint disgust as before, but also with tenderness. "What do you know about him?"
"Just what was on the hospital's website. He's a surgeon. Glasses, beard. In his sixties. I think he has a kind face."
"Didn't think you knew what a kind face looked like," she cracked. He pretended to be offended. "Think he'll have time to see us?"
"I can be persuasive," he said with a wink. She chuckled.
"No barging in his office without knocking, House," she warned. "It only worked on me."
"I know."
They ate in companionable silence. Cuddy let her racing thoughts get the best of her while House ate as ravenously as he always did.
"I wonder…" She moved a slice of tomato around her plate. "How… bad his autism is. What he was like as a child. Do you remember the little boy you treated? He gave you his console."
"Yeah. I still have it."
"He could only scream. His parents were exhausted."
"We'll find out soon enough," he told her, trying to be reassuring.
"I keep thinking…" she continued. "I think you would have been great with him."
He snorted. "I don't know about that, Cuddy."
"You were the only one who'd been able to communicate with that boy."
"Yeah, sure. I showed him anesthesia was safe and I got him to tell me what he had eaten in his backyard. That's not parenting."
"He really liked you," she replied with a smile.
He stopped eating, knowing where this was coming from, and wiped his hand on a paper towel before he held hers. "We couldn't have kept him, Cuddy, even if I had stayed."
She looked up at him, surprised by his brutal honestly.
"I wouldn't have been able to care for him during my residency. There's just no time for a kid. And you wouldn't have let anything get in the way of you becoming a doctor. You wanted to eat the world back then. You needed it."
Her throat closed up. She lowered her head and nodded.
"I don't know if he would have been better off with us than with the Murphys, but we can't change the past."
She brought her other hand to her forehead and squeezed his.
"I wanted to keep him," she whispered. "But I was on my own. And…" She had a small chuckle. "Yeah, I wanted to be a doctor more than a mother."
"Don't beat yourself up for it."
"What if he hates me?" she asked softly as she looked up, afraid of the answer.
"You're his mother." But it wasn't enough to soothe her. "We'll deal with it," he assured her. And she believed him.
The following morning, they headed to Saint Bonaventure's hospital. Cuddy let House do the talking at the front desk when they asked to see Dr Glassman, knowing how persuasive he could be. However, she was ready to intervene if his rougher side took over his efforts to be polite. In a matter of minutes, they were told Dr Glassman was available for a few minutes and ready to see them.
They made their way up to the administrative floor. Cuddy started rubbing her moist palms against her pants when they were in the elevator. House turned to her with one eyebrow raised.
She smiled. She was glad she wasn't alone this time.
"I'm okay."
Glassman was waiting for them just outside his office. He looked just as House described him, Cuddy thought, kind face included. There was a warmth to him that must have endowed him with an excellent bedside manner, before he rose to the position of president of hospital.
They introduced themselves and Glassman led them inside. It wasn't until he was sitting behind his desk and House and Cuddy were in front of him, that she felt as timid as she did in front of Mrs Murphy. Dr Glassman had a kind and patient face, but she still felt like he could destroy her life with only the word 'no'.
She tried not to discourage herself.
"I was told you're here on a personal matter," Glassman spoke up with a smile. "Which frankly baffles me. What can I do for you?"
"I… don't know how to say this," Cuddy replied with a nervous chuckle.
"You fostered a teenage boy, Shaun Murphy," House intervened, always blunt and fearless. "We are his biological parents."
There was a heavy silence, during which Glassman alternated between staring at either's faces.
"Well, I'll be damned," he said with a touched grin. "You do look like him. Or, rather, he looks like you. How did you…?"
"Long story," House replied.
"Why now?"
"My, uh… Cuddy here…" he stammered.
"I started looking for Shaun after House faked his death, last year," she explained. Glassman raised his eyebrows. "I left Shaun behind a few days after I gave birth to him in Michigan and House wasn't around anymore then. I had no idea of what had happened to him, and even after House came to work for me years later, I didn't tell him, and I didn't look for Shaun. Then two weeks ago we ran into each other, I told him about Shaun, and he found out about you eventually."
"Right," was Glassman's answer.
"I want to thank you for taking him in after his brother's death," she continued. "I met the Murphys and… I'm glad you didn't let him go back with them. Or back in the system."
He nodded. "Me, too. He's a great kid."
"We're here because we want to meet him."
There was a pause. "That won't be possible."
Cuddy frowned. "Why not? If he doesn't live around here, we can absolutely –"
"Shaun has been through a lot. His parents were abusive. He ran away from home with his brother, who died in front of him. You have to understand, I'm not sure he processed all of that."
"But –"
"I understand how you must feel. But meeting Shaun is not a good idea. It would be a lot to deal with for him. He doesn't know about you. I didn't even know about you! Besides, I'm sure you're aware of his autism."
"And we understand how protective you feel of him," House cut in. "But he's our son."
"I'm sorry, but he's not. Not legally. If you truly want what's best for him, as all parents do, you will leave him alone."
"Can you at least tell us about him?" Cuddy insisted. "What does he like? What… what does he do for a living?"
"I don't see how that will help. Now I'm gonna have to ask you to leave."
"Please," Cuddy insisted, but House, much to her surprise, stood up when Glassman did. He rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder, so she decided to follow his lead. Still, she reached for the pad of sticky notes on Glassman's desk and grabbed one of his pens, scribbling her phone number. "If you change your mind, call me."
They nevertheless shook hands as they parted. Without a word, House led her to the elevators with a hand on the small of her back. The shock was only beginning to wane, and as they rode the elevator in silence she realised just how badly their meeting with Glassman had gone.
If he never changed his mind and called her back...
"Excuse me," she spoke up as she threaded her way out of the elevator before the doors closed. House followed her, and quickly understood why she had gotten off before the ground floor as she made a beeline to the bathroom.
"Want me inside with you?" he asked as she pulled the door open.
"No."
He leaned against the wall and watched the people around him, as he always did.
They were surrounded by patients' rooms. It was a hospital like he had seen hundreds before; doctors walking along the corridors, sometimes talking with colleagues, busy nurses tending to patients, frantic residents running around, patients wandering out of their rooms in a wheelchair or with their IV pole...
A senior doctor and his residents caught his eye. The doctor was a tall, dark-haired man with the arrogance of a surgeon. He was surrounded by three younger doctors; a tall black guy, a brunette who occasionally ran her hand through her curls, and a black-haired guy whose back he could only see, but he seemed to have his hands crossed on his chest, gently rocking back and forth.
"Holy shit," House muttered.
If he could just turn towards him...
He heard the door of the bathroom open. Cuddy emerged – he could always tell it was her – but he didn't look at her, captivated by Shaun. House knew she'd followed his gaze and understood when he heard her gasp.
They stared at their son in awe.
When the cluster of doctors walked away, Shaun turned in their direction for a fraction of a second, but it was long enough for them both to recognise the baby and the high school graduate on the pictures.
House saw in his peripheral vision Cuddy walk in their direction. He caught her wrist just in time.
"Cuddy, no." She turned to him in confusion. "It's not the right time."
Her brow furrowed further, and he understood why. It wasn't like him to do things at the right time. But realistically, what were they going to do? Come up to him in the middle of his work day and drop the whole biological parents bombshell on him?
She understood that, too.
Cuddy looked down. He noticed the slight redness of her eyes.
"Let's go back to the hotel," he suggested.
When Cuddy unlocked the door of her hotel room, House didn't ask her if she wanted him inside, and just followed her. She didn't protest – in fact, she hadn't said anything at all on the drive back – and headed straight to the bed, keeping her shoes and coat on, where she lay on her flank. There was enough room for him to lie down in front of her, so he kicked off his sneakers and joined her.
She didn't react when he did, and neither when he reached up and caressed her hair.
"Are you staying?" he asked.
"I have to get back home for Hanukkah," was her indecisive answer. If she wanted to keep her alibi, he thought she would have to fly back on Saturday at the latest.
They kept silent for a few minutes.
"Maybe he'll call you," he said softly. "I think we just caught him by surprise. But I'm sure he'll agree to talk to us about Shaun. It's clear he loves the kid."
Cuddy had a small smile. "Yeah, I don't think I would have reacted well if Rachel's grandparents just showed up on my doorstep and…"
He squeezed her hand. "At least we saw him. We know where he is."
She grinned and closed her eyes. Her smile was infectious. He wanted to kiss her forehead.
"He's a doctor," she said, not without pride.
"And a surgeon at that." She looked up at him. "That attending was definitely a surgeon. He was so smug."
She laughed.
They spent the day in her hotel room, ordering room service for lunch and dinner, chatting and enjoying each other's company, unofficially waiting for Glassman to call them back. He stepped out for a moment to let her call her family. When night fell, House retreated back to his room.
The following morning, he knocked on her door to ask her if she wanted to do anything for the day. She was already showered and dressed, and was about to answer him when they heard her cell phone ring from the nightstand.
"'Know the number?" he asked when she looked at the screen with a frown. She shook her head and picked up.
"Of course," Cuddy said after a few seconds as she turned to House with a giant grin on her face. "Just text me the address. We'll be there."
Glassman asked them to meet in an Italian restaurant for lunch, all the way across town from the hospital – a subterfuge Cuddy had used many times. It amused House and he told her so.
Glassman was already seated when they arrived. They shook hands, looked at the menu, and placed their order.
"Again, I am very sorry for my reaction yesterday," Glassman said as the waiter walked away.
"No need. I have an adopted daughter myself. I don't know if I would have reacted as well as you did," Cuddy replied with a chuckle.
"I do think Shaun should meet you," he assured them. "But it's a big news to take in. I want to wait until after the holiday season to talk to him."
House nodded. "He must be pretty busy with his residency, too."
"You saw him?" They acquiesced. "Did you talk to him?"
"No. How is it going?" House asked. "I don't expect everyone is understanding of his autism."
"No, it wasn't easy getting him on the team. But he's proven himself. He's amazing. He has a unique way of thinking, sees things that no one else sees."
Cuddy burst into a wide grin. House just rolled his eyes, knowing what was to come. "He gets that from his father," she said, a little boastful as she explained his gift to Glassman, who was amused. She went as far as to add examples of House's most brilliant diagnoses.
"Now tell us everything about Shaun," House intervened, eager to have the attention directed away from him.
As their orders arrived, Glassman told them about the first time he met Shaun and Steve, when they brought him Shaun's dead bunny and he asked if he had gone to heaven. Then later, when he saw Shaun in a police car after his brother had died, refusing to go back home. He told them about Shaun's fascination for the anatomy textbook he had given him, about their habit of having pancakes together for breakfast, of him taking in Shaun long enough for him to finish high school, and then on Shaun relying on their close-knit network of neighbours as he went through college and medical school, until his recent move to San Jose.
They showed each other the pictures of Shaun that they had. Glassman marvelled at baby Shaun. House and Cuddy marvelled at teenage and med school Shaun, captured on camera when he didn't know it.
Then it was their turn, and House let Cuddy do the talking about her pregnancy and her leaving her baby behind. She fast-forwarded to ten years later, only mentioning briefly House's infarction, which he was grateful for, when she hired him, and then much later when they eventually started dating.
"It didn't end well, to say the least," she concluded. "I had to leave Princeton and move to D.C. where I'm head of endocrinology."
Glassman nodded. House thought nothing would be asked from him, but then Glassman turned to him. "So why did you fake your death?"
"In April my best friend was diagnosed with a thymoma, with five months to live," he explained after a pause. "I was going back to prison for six months, so…"
"We reconnected at the funeral," Cuddy added.
"I'm sorry about your friend."
Cuddy took House's hand.
"Thank you," he whispered.
There was a brief silence. Glassman gave them a warm smile.
"It's obvious there's a lot of affection between you two," he said.
Cuddy had a chuckle. "Half of the hospital had a bet on when I would finally fire his ass."
"The other half had a bet on whether we were secretly having sex."
"'Affection' is not something we get very often."
They declined dessert, but indulged in a coffee.
"What are your plans?" Glassman asked. "Are you staying in the area?"
"I'm going back to D.C. to my daughter this weekend," Cuddy replied, then turned to House, curious as to what his answer was.
He shrugged. He couldn't follow her to D.C., on one hand because it was too long a drive, and on the other because she had a life. He didn't want to return to Princeton either, where nothing awaited him. "Sure, I'm staying."
"I'd like to get in touch in January, decide how we'll tell Shaun."
They exchanged addresses and phone numbers. When they parted outside the restaurant, Glassman waved at them.
"'You okay?" Cuddy asked House once Glassman had left. "I know you didn't necessarily want to talk about Wilson."
He nudged her towards their rental car. "Just sucks that he never knew about Shaun," he said. "Can you imagine his reaction?"
Cuddy grinned. As they reached the car, she realised that although she was happy to have met Glassman, that she would be meeting her son in a month, she missed their friend dearly. He had been a part of their relationship for so long, sometimes she forgot where her love for House ended and where her love for Wilson began.
"'You wanna get out of here?" he asked teasingly, noticing her sudden grim mood.
"What do you have in mind?"
"'You ever visited San Fran?"
She smirked. "Once, with my dad, when we visited California. I don't think we even stayed a whole twenty-four hours."
"We've got until Saturday. Imagine the possibilities."
She bit her lip in a way he thought very enticing. "Let's go get our stuff."
