Again, sorry I haven't been updating daily. Miss. G is sick, as am I, and I started a new class. Hopefully I'll update every other day from here on out. Here's an extra-long chapter.
Ch. 9
After lunch, Cuddy made her way to the lab, intent on checking House's blood work history. She wondered why Wilson would hide the fact that he'd had blood work done on House; routine labs wouldn't be something to hide. What bothered her most was that House had lied to Kutner about his reasons for it; he'd told him it was for drug testing purposes. She didn't require House to submit to drug testing. Shaking her head while trying to make sense of it, Cuddy turned the corner and nearly bowled Kutner down as they both approached the lab.
"That blood work wasn't for drug testing, was it?" Kutner asked suspiciously as he picked up a dropped file.
She pursed her lips. "It's no wonder House hired you."
"He's hidden blood work under the pseudonym 'Luke and Laura' before."
"You check under that name, I'll look under House."
Kutner agreed and both began to search for House's blood samples and any possible lab results. Minutes later, they both came up empty-handed.
"Nothing here," Kutner called out.
"It's a bust here, too. There's not enough blood to test for anything."
"Well, either that wasn't his blood, Wilson was mistaken in asking for it, or he's hidden it under another name."
"I'll talk with Wilson," Cuddy said. "Don't you have a seminar to teach soon?"
"In five minutes. I better go."
"Thanks Dr. Kutner."
As soon as Kutner was out of sight, Cuddy sat down on a stool and tried to work out just what name House would hide his blood under. It couldn't be anyone real, certainly not anyone associated with the hospital. So she focused on fictional characters, or at least a public figure House might admire. Her first thought was to check under 'Jagger', thinking music was a possibility, but there was no one listed under that name. She tried a handful of other rock stars and one classical pianist, but to no avail.
Again she sat on the stool and pondered the question. She thought about what name he had used to hide the last batch; 'Luke n. Laura', soap stars. She sighed, hoping her suspicion was correct. He'd been watching "Prescription Passion" now for years and Cuddy immediately checked under the name 'Brock Sterling' and hit jackpot.
_______
"Hello?" Chase answered.
"Hi, it's Wilson."
"Oh, hey." Somewhat confused by the unexpected phone call, particularly after he had just left the hospital, Chase said, "Nice of you to call."
"This isn't a social call, it's about a patient."
"Why didn't the hospital page me?"
Wilson paused as he stared at House. The pair had managed to sneak into the hospital shortly after House's team had left for the evening. Wilson pushed House in a wheelchair; a blanket covered him as he tucked his chin and hid under a baseball cap and dark, squarish glasses normally used for patients with dilated eyes. It was an effective disguise; House appeared to be an older patient, and his identity was indiscernible. They now sat in Wilson's office, blinds drawn, door closed.
"Wilson? Am I on speaker phone?"
House nodded at Wilson, encouraging him to continue. "I'm here and yes, you're on speaker phone. The hospital didn't page you because it's a private consult."
"Um, okay. Who's the patient?"
House held up his hand to stop Wilson. Chase heard House's gruff voice answer, "God."
Wilson was sure that had he been able to see Chase at that moment, he would have seen the younger doctor looking bewildered, with perhaps his jaw hanging open or an expression of worry across his middle-aged face.
"House?" Chase asked.
House maintained Wilson's gaze, his friend's stare the only thing keeping House from denying it all right then and there. "Do you know any other god?"
"Would you be willing to come back in and meet with us in my office?" Wilson asked. "No one is to know we're here, not even Cameron."
They could hear Chase take a deep breath, fraught with concern, "It's that serious?"
Growing impatient, House grumbled, "Are you coming or not?"
"I'll be there in 10 minutes."
_______
Eight minutes later, there was a light rap on Wilson's office door. Wilson ushered him in, before returning to House's side.
Looking slightly pale, Chase sat opposite House and looked his long-time friend and former boss in the eye. "What are we dealing with?"
Wilson tossed a bag of lactated ringers to Chase, "Why don't you get that started while I run down to the lab. It'll give the two of you time to talk."
Nodding, Chase said, "Okay."
"I'll be back," Wilson said as he closed the door behind him.
Chase looked at House, expecting an explanation; a fistful of paperwork was thrust into his chest instead. Frowning, he set the papers on the chair next to him and set up the IV, inserting it into House's hand. "Here, hold this," Chase said, handing House the bag of fluids as he walked towards the door. Chase picked up the coat tree and set it behind House, hanging the IV bag from it. Leaning back, he picked up the papers and began to read.
Before Chase's eyes could grow wide upon reading the diagnosis, House quietly said, "Think you can squeeze in a nephrectomy next week?"
Without looking up at him, Chase closed his eyes briefly, before scanning the report in front of him further and found his answer. His brow furrowed and his eyes began to shine.
"If you can't handle it, I can go to Dr. Forge at New York General; can't have my surgeon sobbing into my open gut."
Chase tucked in his bottom lip as he looked up at House. "How long have you known?"
"Suspected it about a week ago. Confirmed yesterday."
"I'm so sor-"
"No, I don't want your pity. I want your surgical skills."
"Who knows?"
"Wilson."
"That's it?"
"I don't need the whole hospital in on my business. No one else knows. No one else needs to know. Your surgical team doesn't need to know who's under the mask and shower cap while I'm on the table. As far as they're concerned, my last name is Smith, first initial, J."
"And how do you expect to hide your identity from the nursing staff in post-op?"
House ran a hand over his face. "Haven't figured that one out yet."
Chase looked down at the chart in his hands and read a little further, before standing to place the scans on the light board. "So what's the plan? Remove the kidney, radiate the spot on your spine and treat with Interleuken-2?"
"And Interferon."
Chase puffed out his cheeks and exhaled slowly. "I can schedule you for Tuesday." He walked back towards the couch that House sat on and checked the IV, an unmistakable look of concern causing the crows feet on his eyes to deepen.
House looked up at him, "You're not going to hug me now, are you?"
Chase half smiled, "No, but I might later."
"Just warn me first, that way I can have my cane ready," House held up his cane as if beat him with it.
"House!" Wilson exclaimed as he walked in to find House poised to strike Chase.
Chase waved his hands. "It's okay. He's joking. Just showing me what he'll do if I try to hug him."
"Or if you screw up the surgery," House added. He placed his fingers against his temples, yawning simultaneously.
Wilson looked to Chase, "So, will you do it?"
Chase nodded, "Tuesday. I'll set it all up, but you can't hide this from the nursing staff. They'll know."
"I know. I'm working on it."
"Mind if I take the file?" Chase asked.
"Go ahead."
Chase headed towards the door and held his hand up in farewell. "See you for pre-op on Monday, say six pm?"
"Yeah, looking forward to it," House replied sarcastically.
_______
Cuddy had taken the test results back to her office before she read them just over an hour earlier. Stunned at first, she sat in an almost catatonic state, shocked at the results of the blood test. And then the anger hit. She was angry with him for hiding it from her; she was even angrier that cancer had somehow managed to interrupt his life when he'd been doing so well. Gone were the instances of near death experiences. He hadn't done anything as stupid as sticking a knife in a wall socket, or risking his own life for a patient in nearly a decade, and though House could hardly be described as happy, he'd been considerably less miserable as of late.
She moved to the couch in her office, curled up into a tight ball and rested her head on the armrest, unable to hold back the tears. Cuddy had been so afraid of losing House so many times, as recently as the night prior as she feared what might have caused the seizure. The cancer markers were quite clear on the lab results and cancer was a far worse diagnosis than she'd expected, particularly after having been told he was simply experiencing leg pain. She fought back the choking sobs that threatened to overtake her, allowing her anger at both House, and as she thought about it, at Wilson, to keep the uncontrollable sobbing at bay.
Wilson. She wondered how long he'd known, how long the boys were hiding such a life-threatening condition from her. House wasn't just any employee; she knew her employees had every right to privacy, but House had been hers at one point, undeniably. Though they were not a couple in the traditional sense, both had an unspoken understanding that they would always be there for one another. Neither had seen anyone else in years, choosing instead to take refuge in the other's company in times of distress or joy, and certainly in all matters concerning Mia. They were attached, whether he would admit or not and she was hurt that he hadn't told her about the cancer.
Mia. The thought of breaking the news to her precious daughter, his one saving grace, broke her heart. Cuddy sat up, unable to hold back the breath stealing cries of a secret she wished had not been revealed. She placed her hand over her mouth, trying unsuccessfully to will the sobs of sorrow away, but there, in her office, Cuddy cried long and hard for a man she loved and hated and hoped could overcome the evil called cancer.
_______
Puffy-eyed and flushed, Cuddy finally gathered herself and made her way to the underground parking structure. As she reached for the elevator button, she found her fingers pressing the number four instead of the letter 'P'. Moments later, she found herself walking towards the diagnostic conference room. Passing it, she stood outside of House's office and she pressed her forehead to the glass, touching her skin to the letters of his name and she shut her eyes briefly.
The office, and the conference room were empty, both darkened for the evening. Touching the letters of his name briefly with her fingertips, Cuddy made her way back towards the elevators. As she passed Wilson's office, she noticed a light coming from his office and finding it strange, she knocked on the door.
Hearing some kind of rustling inside and muffled whispers, she knocked again. "I know you're in there," she said, not knowing who might be inside. She knew Wilson was at home, taking care of House. Who could possibly be in his office, she didn't know, but the door was locked and Cuddy had a sinking feeling stemming from the pit of her stomach.
_______
"She knows someone's here," Wilson whispered.
"Shhh, she'll go away."
"No she won't. She thinks we're at my place, remember? She called earlier, said she was running late, but how are we supposed to get out of here when she's standing at the door?" Wilson began to panic as House frowned at him, rolling his eyes.
"Just be quiet a minute, maybe she'll go away."
Wilson gave House a disbelieving look as he raised one eyebrow.
_______
Not willing to back down, Cuddy took the keys out of her bag. "I have a master key and if you don't open this door, I'm coming in. This is the private office of Dr. Wilson, whoever you are, you don't belong in there. I'm calling security."
_______
"She's calling security," Wilson said anxiously. "You can't hide this from her forever."
"She's bluffing; she won't call security."
"House."
"No."
Wilson stood with his hands on his hips, glaring in frustration at his friend.
_______
Cuddy steeled herself to enter the office. She placed the key into the lock, opened it and ready to defend herself, she stood her ground firm. The sight before her indeed startled her, but not for the reason she expected.
"House?" The word caught in her throat, a ragged breath followed shortly. She was alarmed to see him sitting on the couch with an IV in his hand. Cuddy turned towards Wilson, a look of confusion across her face.
Wilson shrugged. "Hopefully we'll make it back to my place before you get there," he deadpanned.
With a scowl, House angrily said, "No security? Planning on overtaking us with your spike heels?"
She shook her head, "Clearly the two of you aren't going to attack me."
"You didn't know that."
Cuddy's expression suddenly changed from one of surprise to one of anger. "Don't change the subject, House. What's going on here?"
"Daddy thought I needed fluids."
"That's not what I meant, iBrock/i."
House leaned back into the couch with a sigh; a weight he had not known existed, suddenly lifted from his shoulders and looking into her eyes, it became clear to him that Cuddy had been crying for some time.
Just as quickly as her mood changed to anger, it changed to one of worry. Her eyes now wet again, she asked, "How bad?"
House tried to find a way to make the diagnosis seem less dire, but before he could come up with a way to brush off the life-threatening form of cancer, Wilson spoke for him.
"Renal Cell Carcinoma."
"Stage?" she asked.
"Four. Metastasized to his spine."
Cuddy closed her eyes and shook her head, tears again threatening to fall. "Can you give us a minute?" she asked of Wilson.
He agreed, knowing the pair needed some time. "His IV needs to come out," he said, closing the door behind him.
"It's my leg that's crippled," House called out.
House began to remove the IV when she said, "Give me that." House frowned as she fussed over him.
"Were you going to tell me?"
"I thought you'd figure it out by the time I went bald."
Trying her best to hide her concern she asked, "So, are you going to Boston for treatment?"
"No."
"That was all a lie." It was not a question.
"You weren't supposed to find out."
Cuddy finished removing the IV and set it aside. "Surgery?"
"Nephrectomy," he confirmed.
"Laparoscopic?"
"Hopefully."
"Who?"
"Chase."
Cuddy sighed, finding she was unsure of what to do with her hands now that the IV had been removed. She didn't dare look him in the eye, for fear of losing control of her emotions, so she turned away.
House stood and said, "Pass me my cane."
Without turning around to look at him, she picked the cane up from the back of the chair and held her arm out to the side. He took it from her, brushing his fingers against hers as they made the exchange and that simple touch was all it took for the floodgates to open. Cuddy tried to hold back her tears, but it was useless. Nothing could stop her from feeling the pain and stress from that afternoon.
"I don't want your pity."
Regaining partial composure, she said, "Maybe it's not you I pity."
"You don't have cancer," he said, miffed.
"And if something happens to you, I won't have you, either. Mia won't have you." Her breath caught in her throat and she shook her head, trying to push that thought out of her mind.
"Everybody dies," House said with an audible hint of depression that Cuddy knew often led House to isolation.
Still unable to look at him, she shook her head fighting back the tears. Pushing back the urge to lash out at him for not telling her, especially after all they'd been through, she didn't noticed House as he approached.
"How can you be so cold?" she asked, not realizing he was standing behind her. "Why can't you express just an ounce of emotion?"
He leaned in and whispered, "Just because I don't breakdown and bawl like Wilson would, doesn't mean I don't feel this."
Startled, she inhaled sharply. She turned around to look at him and she knew he was being as open with her about this as he could be. No, he would not break down and cry or scream or throw things in anger, at least not in anyone else's presence, but he would ask without directly asking. And this small confession told Cuddy all she needed to know; he was scared.
"You're staying with me."
"Not with Mia."
"I'm not giving you a choice."
"I don't want Mia to know."
"You don't think she'll figure it out? She's not stupid. She's going to wonder why her Uncle Jimmy's taking her to piano instead of you every week. You're going to need someone to take care of you and knowing you, you'll piss off every nurse we get."
"Wilson…"
She cut him off, "No, Wilson has a young son. Too young. Mia's old enough now; she'll understand. She'll hate it and probably fight it, but she has a right to know. You're more than just her uncle; you know it and she knows it. I'm going to take a leave of absence and we'll get through this."
"I'll be fine. I don't want your sagging badonkadonk hovering over me when I'm puking my guts out."
"Tough."
She looked up at him and there, in the quiet of Wilson's office, she saw how the years were beginning to affect him. For the first time, she saw how gaunt he looked; he was thinner than she remembered, grayer, tired. Resisting the urge to wrap her arms around him, Cuddy looked him in the eye. "We'll stop at your place this weekend and pack up some of your things. And I only want you here for a half day tomorrow. Foreman, Cameron and Kutner run this place like a tight ship; you shouldn't have to do much to settle everything."
"They don't know-"
Again she interrupted him, "They don't need to know."
He gave her a half-hearted smile and just as he had so many times before, he was amazed and grateful at how well she knew him; it was a comfort he relied on, even during arguments and banter, in bed and with all things Mia. He almost wished she would hug him. Almost.
Wilson poked his head in, "It's getting late, I need to get House home."
House laughed out loud, a fake and annoying laugh, much to the surprise of both Cuddy and Wilson. "Do you hear yourselves? Next you'll be orchestrating my soccer practice, flute lessons and tutoring sessions."
Wilson opened his office door to walk inside and he smiled. "And you'll go to bed with no dinner if you don't behave."
"Well, guess I'll lose some weight then, won't I?" House teased.
Cuddy looked at him sadly, "You already have."
Frowning, House said, "I'm going home with Mommy. She promised me ice-cream and a movie." He motioned to the bottle of water in Wilson's hand and Wilson passed it to him.
Wilson looked at Cuddy, "You sure you want to deal with this kid? He misses the toilet, tracks mud into the house and leaves his toys on the stairs."
"That's nothing. Last week I caught him taping sanitary pads to the windows."
House choked on the water as he started laughing. It was a genuine laugh this time. He looked at Wilson and with bright eyes, he said, "And that is why I'm staying at Mommy's house. She buys the bestest stickers ever."
