A big thank you to everybody who has read, reviewed, favourited and alerted over the past week. As ever it's much appreciated.
Not entirely sure when I'll churn out the next chapter, so I'll apologise for the cliffhanger in advance. It depends if the family annoy me so much over Christmas that I lock myself in a room with my laptop. Alternatively I could just open a bottle of wine…
In this alternate universe 'Foreteen', the one joke ship, didn't happen. Angst ahoy!
As far as I know they still don't belong to me.
As she bit into a piece of lettuce, Cuddy stared blankly at her computer screen. Ever since she'd come into her office that morning she'd worked solidly, and was only just allowing herself a few minutes break whilst she ate her lunch. Suddenly a knock at her door brought a welcome distraction, as Wilson popped his head in.
"Hi," she said with a grin, gesturing for him to take a seat. It really was good to see a friendly face.
"Hey!" He smiled back and sat down in the chair on the other side of her desk. "I was going to ask if you fancied lunch in the cafeteria, but…"
The oncologist nodded towards the salad bowl on her desk.
"I've got to work right through. Budget reports are due."
"You should be taking things easier."
"I'm pregnant, not ill. As boring as it is, I doubt a collating a few pie charts is going to harm me or the baby," she retorted sarcastically. "It's bad enough that House won't let me do anything at home."
A wry smirk spread turned up the corners of Wilson's mouth. The thought of House running around after somebody else seemed both insane and endlessly amusing.
"You should probably be enjoying that while it lasts."
"Who says I'm not?" she responded coyly, musing over how things had been at home since they'd gotten back together a couple of weeks ago. Watching him turn the kitchen into a bomb site when he cooked, or flooded the bathroom floor when he gave Rachel a bath was frustrating, but at the same time she couldn't help but be touched by the effort he was making, especially as that sort of thing didn't come naturally to him.
"So everything's ok with you guys?"
Immediately his tone unnerved her. He was trying to sound casual, but obviously something was concerning him.
"Why shouldn't they be?"
Wilson hesitated for a second, and shifted uneasily in his seat.
"It's nothing."
Cuddy frowned, not at all satisfied with his answer. The longer he held out, the more pissed off/worried she was going to get.
"Is this you coming to sound me out because he's done something wrong?... I swear if he's broken the MRI again you can tell him I'll kick his ass."
"It's fine… As far as I know anyway."
"Then why are you here?" she demanded, making him fold his arms defensively. They'd been friends for years now, nevertheless he knew the woman sat in front of him was formidable when she was on the war path. For the life of him he couldn't understand why House got a buzz out of arguing with her, and even provoking her. Trying to keep something from her was hard enough.
Sighing deepy, he looked at her sheepishly.
"Thirteen came to see me last night… At my apartment."
For a second she didn't know how to respond. It wouldn't be the first time Wilson had started something with one of House's fellows, but this seemed a little implausible.
"I didn't know you two were friends… You're not... You know?"
"What?" he responded, his brow furrowing in confusion before he realised what she meant and his hands flew out in mortification. "Me and Thirteen? No! No way!... I mean the whole bisexual thing is intriguing, but she's not my type."
Part amused, part impatient Cuddy raised her eyebrows at him. That was probably much more information than she either needed or wanted.
"Now we've cleared that up, would you mind telling me what her coming to see you has to do with House?"
"She's worried about him." Seeing the fear fleeting across Cuddy's eyes, he paused and then began to wonder if he was doing the right thing. But what other option did he have? If something really was going on with her boyfriend and the Father of her child, she had a right to know. "She thinks the pain in his leg is getting worse. Apparently they've all noticed that he's taking more Vicodin than usual."
"No he's not," she contested forcefully.
"You're sure?"
"Well you're the one who writes his scripts."
Uneasily her friend bit his lip.
"I think he may have borrowed my pad… I left it in my office, and then when I came back it was in a different place. I thought I was imagining things, but in light of all this…"
Miserably Cuddy leaned over the desk and rested her head in her hand.
In the past he'd blatantly dry swallowed pills in front of her just to annoy her, but since the night he'd turned up on her doorstep she couldn't actually remember seeing him physically take anything, and in the midst of everything else, how much he was actually using had dropped off her radar. That he may have been concealing it from her made her all the more frightened. Either the pain was psychosomatic, which meant it was a symptom of some emotional turmoil that he didn't want her to know about, or it was real and his thigh was deteriorating, which again he'd made a point of hiding from her. Neither option was particularly appealing, but the latter shook her to her core. What if there was another embolism?
She gulped as a pang of guilt twisted in her stomach.
"This is my fault."
"How is this your fault?" Wilson inquired incredulously.
"I should have noticed something."
She couldn't help but internally berate herself. For the last week or so her main concern had been finding a new home for them, and consequently she'd missed this.
"You're underestimating how good he is at keeping a secret."
"And yet he was blatantly popping pills in front of his team?"
"He underestimates how much other people actually care about him." Watching her chew her lip anxiously, the oncologist felt the need to step in. Instinctively he'd always been protective of both of them. It was an impulse he'd never been able to control, but now more than ever seen as they had so much to lose. "Do you want me to talk to him?"
In response Cuddy pursed her lips for a moment as if she was considering his offer, and then slowly shook her head.
"No… This has got to come from me."
"So what do you think?" Cuddy asked, turning to House and watching him wince almost imperceptibly as he span around on the spot to get a better look at the huge, empty room they were both standing in.
The day before they'd arranged to view the property with Wilson's second wife, who'd left them with the keys to get a feel for the place a good fifteen to twenty minutes previously. It hadn't been the first one they'd seen, on the other hand it had been the first one to tick all the right boxes. Three bedrooms, space for an office and generally enough room for them to merge their belongings. Furthermore the price was negotiable, and because the vendor had already left the country, they could move in when they wanted.
Taking his time to answer, he eventually shrugged.
"It's fine."
"We could have the sofa there. Maybe a few bookcases along the wall, and your piano in the corner if you want…" Looking behind her Cuddy pointed to the wooden units and the large stove. "Having the kitchen and the living room open plan means we could keep an eye on the babies when we're cooking too."
"Cool," he nodded, not appearing to share her enthusiasm.
"If you don't like it Bonnie said there are other options, but it would mean moving further away from work."
Again he shrugged and flexed his jaw as he took in the oak floors and the cream walls around him. It wasn't that he didn't like it. It just felt non-descript, characterless and cold, but perhaps that wasn't the problem. Perhaps he was just averse to moving somewhere he didn't know like his own apartment, or Cuddy's house. Years of moving from one place to another as a child when his father had been posted to various bases, and then from one college/workplace before he came to Princeton had made him cling to the things, places and people he knew like a comfort blanket. Any sort of change was a leap into the unknown, and there'd already been enough of that recently.
"Whatever you want."
"This is supposed to be about what we both want," Cuddy said cautiously. She didn't want a fight, but after her chat with Wilson earlier it was clear she needed to get to the bottom of what was bothering him, be it physical or psychological.
"Like I said it's fine," he responded bluntly, then walked away and perched on the window seat that looked out into the garden at the rear of the house.
"If this is too much… You and me moving in together properly I mean."
"We need a new place, Cuddy… You were right. By the time the baby's here Rachel might be sleeping better and she'll need a room of her own."
Slowly she meandered towards him, her heels clicking on the polished floor, until she stopped in front of him and smoothed down her skirt apprehensively, momentarily thinking she should have gone home to change first instead of them coming straight from work.
"If you're having second thoughts about us I need to know."
Immediately his head snapped up and he panicked.
"Why would I be having second thoughts?"
"You tell me," his girlfriend shot back impatiently, sitting down next to him. "I know the pain's worse. We both know your leg sometimes hurts more when you're anxious or angry about something… I also know you forged Wilson's signature on a script…"
Annoyed, his tongue stuck firmly into his cheek. He should have known this was what the worried looks and concerned glances had been about when she drove them there.
"He wasn't around and I needed Vicodin."
"It's illegal! Have you forgotten everything that happened with Tritter?" Unimpressed that she was bringing that whole incident up, she watched him pout and look outside. "I haven't owing to the fact I had to perjure myself to get you out of trouble last time… The deal was you either went to Wilson, or you came to me."
"So who's the snitch? I mean aside from Wilson obviously." Evidently a member of his team had blown the whistle.
"For God's sake, House, it doesn't matter!" she protested heatedly. "What matters is you didn't feel like you could come and talk to me… After everything we went through before."
Hearing her last sentence was sobering. She was right, yet again he'd kept things from her and she had every right to be annoyed with him.
"I didn't want you to worry."
"And you didn't think I'd worry more if I found out you were keeping things from me?"
Scanning his eyes over the overgrown grass in the garden as the setting Sun cast shadows, he sighed resignedly.
"I have bad days and they usually pass."
"But this isn't?"
He shook his head and turned back to face her, his eyes meeting hers sorrowfully.
"I don't know what's wrong… I'm not sure I want to."
He had no regrets about being with Cuddy, of that he was one hundred percent sure, but there was something intangible constantly at the back of his mind that made him feel like he was teetering on the edge of a cliff, looking down into an abyss.
Sensing his fear and swallowing her own, she reached out and cupped his cheek reassuringly.
"Tomorrow we'll get you checked out."
"What if there is something?"
"Then we deal with it. Whatever it is," she retorted evenly.
"Even if that means me losing my leg?"
"Well, it'll make choosing a costume for you for the fancy dress fundraisers a lot easier," she responded with mock seriousness, observing the mix of confusion and amusement dancing across his features. "To tell you the truth I've always had a thing for pirates since Captain Hook took me back to my Dad when I got lost in Disneyworld. Throw in an eye-patch and a parrot, and I'll walk the plank whenever you want me to."
In spite of himself House laughed heartily. Sometimes he forgot when Cuddy wasn't in full 'Dean-mode' she had the same dark sense of humour as him.
"You are un-fucking-believable!"
With a sincere smile she leant forward and pressed her lips against his briefly; a simple kiss full of meaning.
"I love you," she whispered, only moving a matter of inches away from him as her mouth still tingled from the contact. "The number of limbs you may or may not have in the future is irrelevant."
"It'd be difficult," he warned. She may be a doctor, but he didn't want her to get into this with her eyes closed. Amputation and then the months/years of rehabilitation afterwards would not be pretty. Forcing her to put up with that seemed unfair.
"I told you before, I don't do easy."
"But…"
"But nothing," she interrupted, placing an assertive finger over his lip to shut him up.
Sagging with relief, House kissed her forehead and pulled her into the nape of his neck, then turned his attention back outside and enjoyed the moment. No matter what happened he knew she was the woman he needed. In spite of the constant pain, for the first time in years he was waking up happy and content, or as much as he could be with this hanging over his head.
"I like the garden," he commented casually, eyeing the maple in the far right-hand corner next to the fence. "When Rachel and the baby are older we can hang a rope off the tree and make a swing."
Knowingly, she grinned into his leather jacket.
"This is really you asking for a swing isn't it?"
For a second there was a pregnant pause.
"Maybe."
"And this is a deal-breaker?
"Yup."
Cuddy snorted. For the life of her she couldn't get the thought House and Wilson fighting over whose turn it was out of her head. Hilariously it wasn't such an outlandish thought.
"Then I guess we better put an offer in."
"Cool!" he responded much more emphatically than he had the last time he'd used the expression, making her hope he was coming round to the place.
Sitting up she glanced around and then eyed her boyfriend contemplatively, the slight glint in her eye making him wonder what she was thinking.
"What?"
"It's just we don't have to give the keys back yet, and Marina said she was fine to stay until seven."
Coyly she bit her lip.
Glancing down at his watch he saw that left them with at least another forty-five minutes. Whatever she had in mind, his interest was definitely piqued.
"And?"
"And in my professional opinion endorphins are really good for pain."
Without waiting for him to respond, she stood up and slipped her jacket off her shoulders, allowing it to drop to the floor, before unbuttoning her blouse and settling her gaze on him longingly. Baffled and battling his instinctive response to her current state of undress, he frowned and shifted awkwardly on the cushion as he felt the front of his pants tighten.
"What are you doing?"
Nonchalantly she placed her palms on his knees and sank down to the ground in between his legs, not moving her eyes from his as she tickled the fingertips on one hand under his shirt and unbuckled his belt with the other.
"Should I draw you a picture?"
"Cuddy," he cautioned, his breath hitching in the back of his throat as he took in the sight before him. Now that the morning sickness had more or less abated, pregnancy agreed with her. With the remnants of the daylight bouncing off her face she looked vibrant, sexy and exceptionally beautiful. Even more so than usual.
Defiantly she continued to stare back at him and undid his fly painfully slowly, the sound echoing loudly off the walls in the empty expanse.
"Are you too chicken for this, House?"
Letting out a low growl, he conceded and lifted his ass up so she could edge his jeans and shorts down, not so secretly pleased that his burgeoning manhood no longer felt constrained.
"Who the hell are you, and what have you done with my girlfriend?"
Gently she wrapped her fist around his cock, her other hand venturing under his t-shirt again and ghosting over the tightening muscles on his torso.
"Maybe you're a bad influence on me… Or a good one depending on which way you look at it."
Leisurely she worked her palm along the length of him, and smiled to herself when she saw his nails whitening as he dug them into the cushions either side of him. On and off and in various guises, they'd been together for a little over seven months now, and she still loved knowing she had this effect on him. The consuming need, the deep-seated attraction was always reciprocated, but right now she'd ignore the familiar ache between her thighs. It was her turn to take care of him.
"Fuck!" he moaned, his hips bucking forward as she tightened her grip on him.
"Feel good?"
"Yeah."
His jaw had slackened, and she knew he was fighting to stay in control.
"You know I can make you feel even better."
Through hooded eyes he watched her mouth envelop him before, wound his fingers into her hair and laid his head back against the cold glass of the window, squeezing his eyes shut as the sensation of her tongue swirling around him was almost too much.
Before he lost all power of coherent thought, he couldn't help but think how lucky he was. Having everything he did right now with the woman he was ridiculously in love with felt like a dream.
A dream he never wanted to end.
Restlessly House turned onto his back and stared at the bedroom ceiling, absently kneading his aching thigh. He'd been trying to drop off ever since Cuddy had fallen asleep a few hours earlier, and now she was turned away from him, her even breaths further proof she'd found the rest that was proving elusive to him.
Deciding to get up before the remaining muscle began to cramp, he carefully slipped out from under the covers, tiptoed out of the room and headed into the kitchen, narrowing his eyes against the light when he flicked on the switch. Opening the cupboard where they kept the medicines, he pulled out a quarter full bottle of Vicodin and popped open the lid, tumbling a couple of pills onto his hand and then swallowing them.
Inwardly he was pleased he'd managed to get up without waking her. After they'd got back from the viewing and put Rachel to bed, he'd caught her taking his pills out of his bag and slipping them into the cupboard. It wasn't that she was keeping them from him, but she was clearly concerned about how much he was taking. Enough to put them somewhere she was able to keep to monitor his intake, because that was obviously the point of her subterfuge.
When Cuddy fretted about something he could sense the nervous energy emanating off her. All sorts of possible scenarios had probably run through her mind, liver failure and prison no doubt featuring prominently, but while he understood why she might be worried, her interference still bothered him. He wasn't a moron, as a doctor he knew the risks all too well, but that didn't mean he enjoyed being treated like a child. If she could trust him with her daughter, why couldn't she trust him enough to be in control of how much Vicodin he took?
Resolving to make a stand, he slipped the bottle into the pocket of his pyjama bottoms and grabbed a soda from the fridge, drinking some as he closed the door and was greeted by the grainy, black and white scan photo of the baby from four weeks previously. He couldn't help but smile as he ran his finger over the head, torso and disproportionately tiny limbs. He or she would be almost double the size now with minute finger and toenails beginning to form on their little hands and feet: now less like an alien, more like the human being that would pop out in around five months. The realisation that he was going to be somebody's Dad often hit in sporadic waves. It was a dizzying, frightening notion, but mostly he was excited. He, Gregory House, was looking forward to becoming a father. That in itself mystified him.
Suddenly a floorboard creaking in the hallway made him turn towards the door. Nervously he put the can down on the surface and instinctively reached into his pocket to clasp the pill bottle. If Rachel had woken up he'd have heard her before Cuddy, which meant his girlfriend was probably investigating where he was. Hesitantly he stuck his head into the hall, and frowned when he saw the light was still off in the bedroom. Perhaps in his tired state he was just hearing things?
Electing to step into the nursery to check on the baby before he went back to bed, House grimaced when the door creaked and padded softly along floor until he reached the cot, lookeing down at the little girl whose arms were splayed out above her head as if in some display of submission when sleep had hit her.
And then he felt it. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and the familiar chill ran up each nodule of his spine. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a hand skim the sides of the cot torturously slowly as if the owner was taunting him. The same hand he'd frantically tried to grasp hold of as the bus tumbled over and over and threw them around like dolls.
In desperation he screwed his eyes shut and tried to convince himself this wasn't happening. He was in bed. Cuddy was next to him. This was just a nightmare.
Slowly he opened them again and felt his whole body begin to shake, beads of cold sweat forming on his forehead as his heart rate raced.
At the other side of the cot Amber glanced down at the baby and then looked up at him, a cruel smirk forcing the corners of her mouth upwards.
"You miss me, House?"
