The next few days were somewhat lighter than the week prior. To everyone's delight, except for House's, of course, (what would a few rays of light be to him?) a few hours of sunshine graced the streets of Princeton in the morning. The conference room made sure that this sunlight felt welcome and was to be acknowledged by the board; the blinds were cracked open a bit, permitting some access.
It was a Tuesday morning, and Cuddy was seated at her normal spot- in the middle. This conference was going to take hours and it was a boring one. A few days ago she would have thought it important, but her mind kept wandering elsewhere. She spoke only when spoken to, and when she was sure nobody was watching, her eyes wandered around the room.
She was depressed, but it was more a numb sort of depressed than anything. She didn't know what to feel nor do with herself; that was her definition of depression. She was still sickly; she had lost a bit of weight and became more boney, and she also noticed a more sunken face when she had the courage to glance at her own reflection. But she didn't do much about it. The only thing she wanted to do lately was sleep. Work and sleep.
"Lisa Cuddy, do you have anything to add?"
Cuddy ceased looking at her nails and snapped to attention. Everyone was staring at her with a lazy expectance. She had known what was going on, for although she hadn't seemed to have been, she was listening and did take in information. She did this at a lot of her meetings, especially ones she knew would not matter as much.
"Well, in my opinion, the diversion between the students and the staff is a problem, but-"
"LISA CUDDY!" Said a sudden, rather cheery sounding, albeit familiar voice. Cuddy's heart skipped and she immediately stopped talking; her eyes glazed over with annoyance as quickly as she the voice registered. Everyone turned around to look in surprise as Gregory House entered the room. He gave them all a nonchalant glance, as if barging in as such was the most normal thing in the world, and then grinned at Cuddy. "I have an emergency."
"House, can we do this another time?" Cuddy asked through clenched teeth, giving him the biggest "i-will-kill-you" expression she could muster. This was the first time she had even spoken to him in days.
"Nope! Emergency awaits." He pursed his lips together, looking at her expectantly. "Seriously. This is an emergency," he deadpanned when the only thing she did in response was leer.
Cuddy was busy, and House knew she was busy, but she also knew that if she just went to see what he wanted, things would be over sooner. It would be much less painful than having to argue with him in front of everyone. With a great sigh, she pushed herself out of the chair, turned to the staff, and gave an apologetic shake of her head. "I'll be back in a minute." House gave a sideways smirk as she passed him and pushed the door open; he swung around and left immediately afterward.
Cuddy crossed her arms when they got into the hallway. "Well?"
"Not here, Cuddy. God! Must you be so into public woohoo? I'm trying to maintain my dignity!" He yelled, making a few passerby nurses roll their eyes. Cuddy arched both brows and ignored his teasing outburst; she was used to them, and, quite frankly, didn't care enough to indulge in it. She crossed her arms, tapping the fingers of one hand against her bicep. House motioned with his head down the hallway. "My office."
"Why your office?" Cuddy sniped in defiance.
"Alright, go back inside. Do your thing! I'm sure you're just dying to hear about the student-teacher relationships of the place," House said manually, twirling his cane in one hand. She watched him in silent protest. "Go ahead. I'm probably just being an idiot."
"Probably," Cuddy retorted, but hesitantly began walking with him.
When they came to House's office, it was empty. Cuddy was slightly suspicious of his motives at this point in time; she scanned her surroundings and pursed her lips. "This better be quick and important, or I will make you do anal swabs in the clinic all day. And you know I will."
"Relax," he said in a fake, sappy voice as he rummaged through his desk. Cuddy said nothing, she had attained to watching him curiously. He pulled a needle out and handed her a vile of liquid. "Hold this," he gave her no time to question and filled the needle, and then looked at her. "We'd better get started. Drop your pants."
Cuddy was dumbstruck. She was holding the fertility drugs that she had been taking months prior; he was volunteering to give her injections again. Despite her best efforts and solemn demeanor as of late, she smiled. It was a very soft, quick smile, but it was one none-the-less.
House. Gregory House, the man who was supposed to care about nothing other than himself; the man who wanted all of Cuddy's attention on him and only him. The man who had grown enormously jealous after her adoption of Rachel last year, and who had her convinced at one point in time that she would fail as a mother. He was going to help her get pregnant again. Was it the work of Mayfield, had he changed? Or was this kind of selflessness buried deep inside him all along; was he just simply acting out of character? Either way, Cuddy had not the faintest idea of why House was eager to help. He wouldn't have done this before. Plenty of times she had tried and failed to become a mother, and not once had he reacted in this way.
House had his own way of handling things, and she never understood them. At these thoughts, suddenly, her happiness dissipated into frustration.
"No, House."
"You said that last time," House said with little emotion. "Didn't stop you from robbing some random guy of his sperm and compromising your bladder control a few years later."
Cuddy closed her eyes for a moment, took a quiet breath, and then opened them. She shook her head. It was true, over the past few days, she was sure of at least one thing: she was not meant to be a mother in the traditional way. She was done trying, and she needed to learn to accept it, no matter how painful it was. The dull abdominal ache from her miscarriage served as the ultimate reminder.
"Well, I'm done. Besides, House. I wouldn't get pregnant this quickly after a miscarriage."
"The sooner you start, the better it is for you. Your biological clock is ticking," House said pointedly, with a smug expression on his face. "Turn around so I can stick this needle in Sir Mix-A-Lot's favorite body part."
Cuddy shook her head. "I'm going back to the meeting now. Whatever stunt you're trying to pull, I don't like it."
House gave her an open-mouthed expression. "I'm trying to help you."
"You can help me by putting the drugs you nicked from the gynecology ward back and leaving me alone," Cuddy said angrily; clutching the vile she was still unawarely holding onto. It was pressed up against her palm now.
House said nothing, and Cuddy took that as her cue. She turned to leave.
"So. You're just going to give up?"
Cuddy stopped, opening her mouth in an angry manner of protest.
"Just like you do with all things you can't handle?"
"How dare you," Cuddy warned, turning around and walking toward him. She had heard this statement one too many times in the past few months. "I have been trying to have a baby for years. I had sperm donors lined up from left to right- you rejected every one. I had three implantations; a miscarriage. You told me I would fail as a mother. And I still KEPT trying. I finally got pregnant. Now I'm not pregnant anymore, AGAIN, and I'm going through it alone, AGAIN, and you're telling me that I just give up?" She said in disgust, moving her head toward her body, looking at him with contempt.
House said nothing; Cuddy was too angry to stop.
"And you, House. Why the hell do you think I gave you time off? Why the HELL do you think I sent you to Mayfield and then allowed you your job back after you were a registered lunatic? What, you think just because I won't relent to you and give you everything I have despite all you've done, I've given up? Are you out of your mind? See, THIS is why there is nothing between us. Nothing could ever be between us!"
House's gaze shifted to the floor, and then back at her. He looked confused and slightly thrown off. "So this is about you now, huh? This is about me wanting you for myself?"
"Because you do, House. Don't deny it. There is no other explanation for why you act the way you do."
"Yeah," House said with a nasty snark of a grin. "THAT'S why I'm deciding to help you, because I want all your attention on ME. And OF COURSE the explanation couldn't be that you just have fucked-up issues of your own. It's all on me, because that's easier."
"Screw you," Cuddy said softly, piercing him with a dagger-filled gaze. She could be vicious when she wanted to, just as he could. She had no idea if she would regret this later, but she was too angry to rationalize now.
House said nothing, he merely narrowed his eyes at her. Cuddy turned around again, and this time, she walked out, looking toward the floor. The numbness she had been feeling for the past few days had finally cracked. Her vision was blurred. She felt a tiny tear escape from the corner of her left eye, but the world would end before she let House see that.
She only had had one tear, that was all. No big deal. She wiped it away as soon as she entered the hallway; walking back to her meeting. Her hands were clenched together so tightly she swore one could have been bleeding, especially since she was pushing the vile up against her. . .
She stopped. The vile. In her enraged frenzy, she had taken it with her accidentally. Opening her hand slowly, she looked at it for a moment, then at the door to House's office. She swallowed, made her decision, and walked back inside.
House was still standing in the same spot. His face revealed no change after her entrance; he was staring at her, not in an angry or hurt way, but in a curious way.
She ran her tongue over her lips once to wet them; her mouth had grown dry, and she pushed the vile toward him with no other words. House stared at her, took it slowly, and then grinned. It was a smug, complacent grin that accompanied the inquisitive, interested look in his eyes. It made Cuddy even more irritated. She looked anywhere but at his face; anywhere but into his eyes. She lowered her gaze and waited for him to say something. He didn't; she turned around. Halfway through her motion, however, he spoke, in a voice so completely normal- so completely unaffected by everything she had just said- that it was almost as if it hadn't even happened.
"Why do all of our fights end with you saying screw you? You think that implies something?"
Cuddy closed her eyes for a moment, stopped walking, and then opened them. She walked out. What he had said didn't loosen the tension she held within; she didn't come close to a smile, or even a nod. But as she was walking back to her meeting, she noticed that she wasn't clenching her fists anymore.
