"This is the Mayfield Psychiatric Hospital. Do you accept a collect call from Gregory House?"
Cuddy looked down at her phone in shock for a second, then glanced at Julia, who was sitting across from her at the kitchen table doing a crossword puzzle.
"I, uh, need to take this in the other room," she said, going into her sister's master bedroom and closing the door behind her.
"Yes, I accept."
"Way to leave me hanging there, Cuddy."
She smiled. He sounded good—healthy.
It had been two weeks since House had left for Mayfield and, although she'd tried to busy herself—taking Rachel to the zoo, reorganizing her guest closet, meeting friends for dinner— she'd thought of little else since. (Any of the anger she felt toward him had dissipated the instant he said he was checking himself in to the hospital. In the end, who had she really been angry at: House for seducing her? Or herself for being so easily seduced?)
"You okay?" she said now.
"I'm fine," he said. "I'm done with the ripping through my shackles stage of my recovery. Now I'm less Incredible Hulk, more Bruce Banner."
"Who?" she said.
"Bruce Banner? The Hulk's alter ego? . . . You won't like me when I'm detoxing?. . . Nothing?"
"I guess I need to bone up on my comic book characters."
"Heh. You said bone."
She chuckled. Back to his old self.
"So you're really okay?"
"I'm fine. The first week sucked. I was 'potentially violent to myself and others'—and that's a direct quote. Those are always good times. . ."
"House, I'm sorry. . ."
"But now I'm free to roam with the schizos, the paranoids, the obsessive compulsives, the borderline personalities—in other words, my people."
"And Nolan?"
"Very disappointed that he had to slide me from the Success column to the Epic Fail column, but he'll get over it."
"You're not an epic failure!" she said. "Addicts relapse. It's not a reason to be down on yourself."
"Relapsing is one thing. Relapsing, committing a violent crime, going to prison, and losing everyone you love—is there a phrase stronger than epic failure? Apocalyptic failure?"
"House. . ."
"Look, the therapy is going fine. We're talking a lot about needing to love myself more—if you can imagine such an ego-inflated creature—and we also talk about. . ." —he hesitated for a second—"Wilson."
"Good House. I'm glad it's going well. I. . .miss you."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"I miss you too," he said, eagerly.
"Maybe I could come for a visit?" she said. It just sort of slipped out. Not visiting him in Mayfield the first time around was one of her bigger life regrets.
"I can't imagine anything that would make me happier," he said. "I assume this is a conjugal visit?"
"House!"
"Just a joke. I'm turning over a new leaf." Then, as though quoting something by rote: "'I accept that Noah is in your life and that you and I are just going to be really good friends.'" He chuckled a bit. "Pretty good, huh? And that's after just a week of therapy. Imagine how much of the high road I'll take once I've been here for a few months."
"You think it'll really take that long?"
"I'm that fucked up," he said, sighing a bit. Then his voice brightened: "So, about that visit. . ."
"I need to clear my schedule, juggle a few commitments. Does next Tuesday work?"
"I'll have to cancel a very important staring in to space and doing nothing session I had planned. But yes. I think I'll be able to clear my schedule, too."
"Good."
"I'm going to make one of those prison-style calendars and start marking off the days—or maybe I'll get a tattoo."
"It's just six days from now."
"Guaranteed six longest days of my life."
###
After they hung up, she went back to the kitchen table. Her coffee had gotten cold, but she took a sip anyway, just to appear normal.
It didn't work.
"Who was that?" Julia said, knowingly.
"Work," Cuddy said.
"Uh, nice try, sis. You don't take work calls in the master bedroom with the door closed. And you don't look positively flushed when you get off the phone. . .Was that Noah?"
Cuddy looked down at her coffee cup.
"Actually, it was House."
"House? I thought they sent him back to the loony bin."
"It's a psychiatric hospital. And he wasn't sent back—he checked himself in."
"Oh that makes it so much better. Why are you even talking to him?"
Cuddy held the mug of coffee in her hands but didn't drink from it.
"If you must know, we almost slept together," she whispered. Her lowered voice was unnecessary. The kids were in the other room playing some sort of Dance Party game on the Wii.
Julia looked stunned.
"What? Like, in a padded cell or something?"
"No, not at the hospital—and by the way, you've been watching way too many medical dramas. At my house, before he left."
"You say almost slept together. So you didn't. This can still be fixed."
"No, House did the gallant thing and backed off . . ."
"Oh, he's a real Prince Charming."
"But I wanted too, Jules. I mean, he was one unzipped pair of jeans away from fucking me up against a wall."
Julia turned a bit red. Of the two sisters, she was the more prudish one, the one less likely to discuss her sex life.
"But Lis, why? I thought things were going so well between you and Noah," she said.
"They were," Cuddy said, unconvincingly.
"So why are you dry humping your ex against a wall?"
Cuddy smiled a bit to hear her sister talking like that.
"Because he's. . . in my heart, Jules."
"I think he's in a different part of your anatomy."
"It's not just about sex. I mean, yeah, a lot of it is about sex. But I love him, Jules. In a way, I never stopped loving him."
Julia shook her head sadly.
"You know, after you broke up with him, I could tell you never really got him out of your system," she said. "But I kinda thought the whole vehicular manslaughter thing was going to put an end to that."
"I did, too," Cuddy admitted. "And it worked for a while. Out of sight, out of mind. But then I moved back here—and then Wilson died, and I felt this need to look after him. And then I realized that I was always going to want to look after him. And suddenly all these old feelings flooded back."
"But what about Noah? He's such a solid, decent, emotionally stable guy. And he loves you and Rachel so much."
"I know," Cuddy said, biting her lip.
"So what's the problem?"
"Noah was there for me when I was at my lowest. He was my rock, my anchor. And I'll never forget that."
"You're speaking of him in the past tense," Julia said nervously.
"It's just that, being around House—I feel different. House makes me feel smarter, sexier, stronger—like I can run through walls. He. . . excites me."
"You know Lisa, not every guy is going to be as exciting as Gregory House—and that's a good thing."
"I know. . ."
"You're confused. Maybe House's little stint in the insane asylum—"
"Psychiatric hospital. . ."
"Maybe his little stint in the psychiatric hospital is just what the doctor ordered. It'll give you a chance to regroup, get your priorities in order, think about your future."
"Actually, I think that's why he went."
"Huh?"
"I mean, he left to get clean and work through his grief over Wilson. But I think he also left because he knew that if he stuck around he was going to ruin things between me and Noah."
"Most selfless thing he's ever done."
"I'm just not sure it's what I want."
######
She didn't mark off the days on a calendar—or get a tattoo—but Cuddy did find herself looking forward to Tuesday more than she thought possible. And then it suddenly occurred to her—in all the months that she and Noah had been apart, she had never looked forward to his visits like this.
And that was when she knew.
He called her the next day, ostensibly to plan his upcoming visit.
"There's a 9:30 flight that gets in at 1:45 or a 3:30 flight that gets in at 8:30," he said. "Which works better for you?"
There was a long pause.
"Noah, I don't think you should come," she said finally.
"Why not? Crazy at work?"
"No. . . I . . .uh. . ."
"Spit it out, Lis. You're scaring me."
"I think we should take a break."
"A break? All we do is take a break. We live 1,200 miles away from each other."
"I know. . .but. . I'm just not sure if this long distance thing is working out for me."
She heard the crinkle of a leather chair as he sat down heavily. She could picture exactly where he was—in his home office that was filled with old things: Antiques lamps, an antique rug, even antique, leather-bound books. The only modern thing was the laptop, sitting on the desk, giving off a strangely futuristic glow.
She could hear him breathing. But he didn't speak.
"Noah?" she said.
"This is about him, isn't it?" he said.
Cuddy swallowed. She didn't want to lie to him.
"Not entirely," she said.
"Translation: Yes."
"He's part of it, yes. But it's more than that. I care about you so much, Noah. . .I even love you. . ."
"But you're not in love with me. You don't burn for me the way you do for him. . ."
"It's not like that."
"Did you sleep with him?" A trace of bitterness had crept into his voice.
"No," she said, quietly, firmly.
"But you wanted to."
What was the kinder thing to do? To tell the truth? Or to tell a white lie?
"I don't know what I want," she said.
"Lisa, you're making a mistake."
"Maybe I am. But I can't be with you Noah. Not when I still have feelings for another man. It's not fair to you. And it's not fair to me."
"So sleep with him. Get him out of your system. And then come back to me. Come home."
He is my home, Cuddy thought, but didn't say.
"Noah. . .this has nothing to do with you. You are a remarkable man. You are kind and smart and loving—"
"Shut up!" he bellowed, with an anger that surprised her. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Don't patronize me!"
"I'm not Noah. I'm not. I'm so sorry. . ."
"You were lost when I first met you, do you remember that? You were depressed, flailing. Together, we helped you climb out of that morass. Do you remember that?"
"Yes," she said quietly, closing her eyes.
"And now you're going back to the source of that darkness?"
"I never said that."
"You're going subject yourself, your daughter to this violent, unstable, drug-addled man? Do know what that is, Lisa? That's sick."
"I'm sorry," she said. Her eyes were pooling with tears.
"You deserve each other," he said.
And hung up.
#####
She felt terrible about breaking it off with Noah like that. But at the same time, it was like a tremendous weight had lifted off her shoulders. She didn't know where things would lead with House. She only knew that she wanted him and that he wanted her. But would his recovery take? Would she be willing to let him back into her life, into Rachel's life? If they did get back together, would she be less judgmental this time? More accepting of his flaws? Would they be able to talk more? Not run away from their problems? Not lash out at each other?
One thing she knew for certain: She was finally able to explore her feelings for him. She was finally free.
The phone rang.
"This is the Mayfield Psychiatric Hospital. Do you accept a collect call from Gregory House?"
She frowned. Her visit with him was in two days. She hadn't expected to hear from him. What could this be about?
"I'm sure you'll get the hang of this eventually," she heard House say, as if from a distance.
"Yes, I accept the charges," she said hastily.
"Atta girl."
"Why are you calling? Is everything okay?"
"Actually . . . no. Turns out I'm not allowed to receive visitors. And by visitors, I mean you."
"What?" She tried not to let the disappointment register in her voice. "Why?"
"Nolan thinks it would be counterproductive to my recovery," House said. She could almost hear him rolling his eyes.
"Are you sure? I was really looking forward to seeing you."
"Me too. Apparently a little too much. Because Nolan got the ridiculous idea that I was focusing all of my recovery on you. His exact words were: 'You can't use Cuddy as a crutch.' So naturally I accused him of making a gimp joke. But sadly, he has no sense of humor. He thinks I need to focus on myself, not you."
"I guess that makes sense," Cuddy said reluctantly.
"I think it's complete bullshit, frankly. But you know how stubborn shrinks are—after all, you're dating one."
She wanted to tell him that she had broken things off with Noah, but now suddenly didn't seem like the right time.
"I don't want to do anything that will stand in the way of your recovery," she said.
"Thanks," he said. "I guess I'm just going to have to tough it out on my own."
"I'll see you when you get back?"
"You'll be the first person I call. Well, second person. I'll probably called New Jersey Gas and Electric to get my heat turned back on."
"Good luck, House."
"Thanks Cuddy. I'll need it."
######
Four months later, she heard from Foreman that House had returned to the hospital.
It had been a rough time for Cuddy. Noah had not taken the breakup well. He'd gone through all the stages of grief—the denial stage featured a marriage proposal; the bargaining phase involved a suggestion that he move his practice to New Jersey; and the anger stage had him lashing out so viciously, it left her in tears. But he finally seem to have accepted that they were over.
Julia, however, was less understanding.
"You're an idiot," she said.
"Thanks for all the support, sis," Cuddy had replied dryly.
Now, upon hearing the news of House's return, Cuddy made her way happily to his office. She was practically skipping down the hall, but she didn't care. She was dying to see him.
He was sitting at his desk, looking at a file. (Typical House, right back to his puzzles.) He was wearing a royal blue shirt, open slightly at the neck to reveal that reddish patch of skin she had always fetishized about. His hair was short, but not as closely cropped as last time. It seemed a bit lighter, too, as if he had been spending a lot of time in the sun.
He went to pick up the phone, started to dial.
"Hey! I thought I was the first person you were going to call."
He saw her. Hung up the phone. His face broke into a huge grin.
"Would you believe I was calling you?" he said.
"Fat chance," she said, grinning back.
He stood up, and they hugged for a long time. It was so good to feel his body against hers. She kissed his neck.
"You look good, House," she said, when they parted.
"I feel good," he said. "My liver is so pristine you could eat off of it."
"I love a man with a pristine liver."
They beamed at each other.
Then there was an unexpectedly awkward silence, which was finally ended by House.
"So. . .how ya been? How's Noah?" he said.
He was trying to be mature. It suddenly reminded her of the time he had dedicated that gift—her grandfather's book—to "Lisa and Lucas." Such an uncharacteristically sweet, formal gesture.
"Actually," she looked at the floor. "Noah and I broke up."
His mouth dropped open.
"You're kidding," he said. For some reason, he looked less than thrilled over this news.
"Hey babe, I parked my bike next to yours if that's okay." It was a female voice, raspy and deep, not at all familiar.
Cuddy turned. A very pretty woman—mid 30s, long, straight, dirty blonde hair, wearing a leather jacket and motorcycle boots—was standing in House's doorway.
"Hey," she said, nodding, when she noticed Cuddy.
"Hey," Cuddy said back, skeptically.
"Cuddy," House said, gulping a bit. "I want you to meet Rhonda. She's my. . .girlfriend."
