Author's Note: Okay, so I finally finished all my stupid assignments. YAY. They took FOREVER. I tell you, university is brutal. Anyway, here's the next chapter. Not too sure when the next is gonna be up. Thanks to Alicia for BETA.
Disclaimer: I own Jenny and nothing more.
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When Cuddy awoke on her couch she found House limping back from the kitchen, a plate of eggs and toast in his cane-free hand. She wanted to say something in the way of thanking him, but she just blushed slightly, looking down at her hands.
House plonked himself down on the couch by her feet, picking up a piece of toast and raising it to his lips, trying not to laugh at the disgruntled noise that Cuddy made.
"Oh, I'm sorry, did you want some?" he joked. Cuddy frowned at him, wrapping her arms around herself and snuggling deeper into the blanket. "Hey, I was just kidding," he said quickly, tossing the toast back onto the plate and shoving it towards her. "I figured you'd be hungry after only eating a few bites of your cinnamon bun." God, he thought, when the hell did I become a House-Wife?!
"Thanks," Cuddy mumbled, picking up a slice of orange and nibbling at it. She paused after a moment, her sad blue eyes moving from the food in front of her over to House's leg. "Did I hurt you?" she questioned, her voice soft and insecure.
"Its fine," House responded, unconsciously rubbing said limb. "Do you remember my friend Jenny?" Cuddy seemed to ponder the name for a moment, munching on her toast.
"She came to see you when you had the infarction, and Stacey glared at her… They didn't get along, did they?" House smirked, shaking his head.
"Stacey constantly thought that Jen and I were sleeping together. She never really grasped the concept that Jenny is like a sister to me. As for Jen… well, she had different ideas as to who my perfect mate should be," he explained.
"Jenny is the one who sends Wilson those text messages when you end up in the hospital, isn't she? Did you know that she tells him to kick you in your bad leg to get you back in line?" Cuddy queried, smiling softly. House rolled his eyes.
"Yeah… that sounds about right… Listen though; Jenny was there when I took you to the hospital last night… She performed your psych-evaluation… She thinks it'd be good for you to talk to her about what happened." House said. He watched as Cuddy frowned, stabbing her toast more violently into the eggs.
"I don't need to talk to anyone," she spat after a moment.
"Cuddy, you were terrified of Wilson! He'd never even hurt a fly! I mean, look at him! He works with cancer kids!" House rebelled, trying to pry the crushed toast from her fingers before she smashed her appendages into the plate. "Jenny is coming over very soon. If you don't want to talk to her, fine. But you have to tell her why you don't," he finished. Cuddy glared at him for a moment before sighing.
"Why do you care whether or not I talk to someone? I'm fine, House," she groaned.
"Because! Believe it or not, Cuddles, I care about you. I don't want to see you end up in the loony bin. I'd be without a job if you weren't at work anymore!" he said, voice hoarse. Cuddy's eyes softened at his words. She hadn't thought of him actually caring for her. She was about to say something to him when a knock sounded. Unlike before, Cuddy didn't leap into his lap; but the fragile woman visibly jumped, scooting closer to House until she was able to wrap herself around his side, her legs in his lap. "It's open Jen!" House called, doing his best not to yell in Cuddy's ear. The door clicked open and shut again, the sound of high-heels clicking on the hardwood.
"Hey," Jenny said, gently placing her jacket on the back of an arm chair. She then took a seat in it, watching Cuddy with caring but interested eyes. House knew instantly that she was analyzing Cuddy's posture.
"Cuddy, this is Jenny Chapman. She's a psychiatrist," House explained.
"It's nice to see that you're doing better, Lisa," Jenny interjected, smiling calmly.
"Nice to meet you," Cuddy replied, not really looking up.
"You don't really want to talk to me about this, do you?" Jenny stated. Cuddy snorted, eyes on the ground.
"I'm just going to go… read or something while you two talk," House said awkwardly, standing and limping off into the den.
"Do you remember what happened last night, Lisa?" Jenny pressed.
"Nothing happened," Cuddy muttered, pulling on a thread that had started to unravel on her blanket. Jenny watched her carefully, scribbling down a few notes on the notepad that was spread on her lap.
"Alright, well, if you don't want to talk about last night, why don't you tell me about your childhood?" Jenny continued.
"What the fuck does my childhood have to do with anything?!" the dark haired woman seethed.
"Nothing, save for the fact that how you grew up has formed who you are now. The fact that you don't want to talk about last night implies that you always felt insecure talking about your problems when you were a child. It also suggests that you felt that you needed to be the strong one once you entered the adult world. Denial isn't going to make anything go away, Lisa. You can procrastinate talking about it all you like, and I can sit here analyzing every movement you make and everything about your childhood just from the way you respond to questions or move your hands. But it won't change things. Not talking is just going to make things harder for you later on," Jenny said. Her voice was calm but firm, showing that she had no problem telling it like it was when she needed to. Cuddy just gaped at her.
"I don't need you to analyze me! I don't need any of this shit!" Cuddy screamed, throwing the blanket off her lap and storming into the kitchen. Jenny remained in the chair, making notes as House limped in from the den.
"She's just as stubborn as you are Greg," Jenny said, not bothering to look up from what she was doing.
"I thought you said that we shouldn't push her too hard," House responded. Jenny sighed.
"She needs to talk about this, Greg. She can deny what happened all she wants, but it's not going to make these problems go away. The first step to getting through something like this is to accept that it happened. After that, the healing can begin. But she needs to open up about it. Denial only hurts people more," Jenny answered. House nodded, his eyes on the ground.
"I'll try and get her to talk," he said quietly, limping off towards the kitchen. Jenny watched him go, smiling softly. What had happened to Lisa was horrible… but, at the same time, it was helping House to stop being so emotionally detached. It was making him more human. Jenny scribbled another point down on her notepad. Maybe this situation wasn't all bad.
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Cuddy ran from the room and into the kitchen, despite Jenny calling after her with a concerned voice. She couldn't do it. She couldn't talk about it. She didn't care if she was in denial. Hell, if it kept her from feeling the way she did at that moment she didn't care if she remained in denial for the rest of her life. Her arms were shaking as she gripped the edge of the kitchen counter – her knuckles turning white. She could hear the blonde woman in the other room talking rapidly and with a worried voice, saying something along the lines of 'she needs to talk about this Greg. She won't be able to get past it if she doesn't accept that it happened.' But she didn't care.
"Cuddy?" House's voice sounded. He was right behind her.
"I'm not talking anymore," she snarled, glaring at the rain that had started to pound down outside. It suited her mood perfectly.
"I wasn't asking you to. I was going to ask you if you had any scotch. I could use a drink," House continued, starting to go through her cupboards. Cuddy growled, slapping his hands away from another cabinet before opening the one beneath it, pulling out the bottle of alcohol and shoving it at him. He grunted slightly at the feeling of the glass container being shoved into his chest. "Gee, thanks," he said, grabbing a glass from the counter next to the sink and pouring himself some. He looked back at the dark haired woman. She was standing with her arms wrapped around herself now, eyes still on the backyard. House leaned against the kitchen counter, watching the scotch sitting in his glass but making no move to drink it. "Last night doesn't make you weak, Cuddy," House said after a moment.
"Really, how's that?" she shot back, eyes flaring.
"You were drugged! Flunitrazepam made you unable to fight back, none of it was your fault!" he responded.
"You would have never let it happen to you!" she screamed at him.
"Who the fuck would want to rape me?! I'm a fucked up old cripple who no one but a parasite-filled teenager wants! You… You're a gorgeous, strong, successful woman who refuses to take shit from anyone. You want to know why he tried to rape you? It's because he knew he wasn't good enough to be with someone like you!" House yelled, gripping so tightly on the glass that he nearly caused it to shatter. Cuddy just stood there for a moment, watching House's heaving chest. She rarely saw him speak so passionately about anything. The fact that he spoke like that to her, about her, made her heart flutter.
"I'm not that strong, House," she said quietly, gently prying the glass from his hand before he could break it. The minute the cup was safely on the counter House grabbed her chin, his touch feather-light as he forced her to look up at him. He gazed into her eyes, seeing the insecurities there. The resounding fear. The shame.
"You're not weak either," he whispered, leaning down and softly kissing her on the forehead. Cuddy wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him close to her. "You need to talk about this," he said quietly. Cuddy sighed.
"I know," she breathed, not moving from his embrace. "Will you stay with me when I talk to Jenny? I'm still kind of fuzzy about what happened… I could use some help filling in the gaps." House buried his nose in her hair, nodding his consent against the crown of her head.
"Yeah, I'll stay," he told her, finally releasing the now calmed Jewish doctor from his grasp. Cuddy smiled up at him softly. They stood in silence for a few moments, just looking at one another until House started to feel slightly awkward. He cleared his throat, averting his gaze to the doorway where he found Jenny standing. Cuddy glanced over to the blonde, flushing slightly.
"I'm ready to talk," Cuddy said.
"Good," Jenny answered with a smile as Cuddy slipped past her and back into the living room.
"How much of that did you see? Or hear, for that matter?" House asked. The blonde just laughed slightly, shaking her head.
"Oh, I heard more than enough to have blackmail material on you until the day I die. Not to mention the fact I could shatter your image of being an ass within about twenty seconds," she grinned. House groaned.
"I hate you," he said to her, going back into the living room. Jenny just rolled her eyes.
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"Can you tell me what you remember from last night?" Jenny asked Cuddy again. They had resumed their places in the living room, only this time House was seated next to Cuddy, his feet propped up on the coffee table.
"I… I don't remember too much after getting to the club…" Cuddy replied.
"Why don't you tell me about how you met this man and when you got to the club? Maybe it will help loosen up your memory," Jenny suggested. Cuddy glanced over at House nervously, only to see him nod in reassurance and signal for her to go on.
"Well, um, I met Josh online a couple weeks ago and he asked me to go out with him. I guess… I guess I just figured it would be fine to go out with him because he invited me to such a public place," Cuddy began, her voice wavering slightly. She stopped, seeming to be collecting her thoughts for a moment. Jenny shot House a look, as if prompting him to help the battered woman continue with her tale.
"What happened when you go to the club?" House asked, rolling his eyes at Jenny before he turned his gaze on Cuddy. He now remembered why he was horrible on his psych rotation. He just didn't have the patience or attention span for the slow-forming stories.
"I met Josh by the bar. He'd bought us both some beer and… and I just drank it. I… I guess that's where the Flunitrazepam was…" Cuddy said, more to herself than the other two occupants of the room.
"Do you remember what happened after you ingested the Flunitrazepam?" Jenny questioned. Cuddy bit her lip.
"I remember that he and I danced together… but then I started to feel a bit overheated, so I said I was going to go to the bathroom. I… I don't really remember what happened after I left the dance floor… I know I was dizzy and my vision was starting to get a little foggy, but I thought it was just because the club was really warm…" Cuddy was stumbling over her words horribly by the end, her hands balled into fists next to her.
"It's okay to remember," House said, leaning over so that he could whisper in her ear. He had been struck by the sudden urge to reassure her that she was safe. He watched as tears started to slip from her eyes as she squeezed them shut, her entire body starting to tremble.
"I… I was still feeling weird after getting some water in the bathroom so… so I was going to say that I was heading home but… but when I walked out of the bathroom Josh was there… he… he grabbed me and pushed me against the wall. He kept telling me that I was… that I was a slut, and that I wanted him. That I wanted him to… to…" Cuddy was full out crying by then, wrapping her arms around her knees and pulling them up to her chest. House's hand twitched. He wanted to hug her, but he didn't know if he should. He glanced over at Jenny, needing her reassurance. The blonde had a sad look on her face, her eyes so focused on Cuddy's breakdown that House couldn't catch her attention.
"That's it, Lisa," the psychiatrist said, voice gentle.
"He… he grabbed my hands and pinned them above me while he… while he groped me and… and pushed his… his… into my pelvis. He kept saying that I wanted it… and he kept hitting me across the face," Cuddy whimpered, her hand coming up to the stitches that covered her cheek. "He pu-pushed my skirt up and tore my… my underwear off… and then… he… he was… he was undoing his pants and then… then I was on the ground… I don't know what happened…" she whimpered. She looked over at House, shock in her eyes when she saw the way he was looking at her. "Did you pull him off me?" she asked.
"Yeah," he replied. Cuddy was instantly in his lap again, hugging him fiercely.
"Thank you," she breathed against his neck.
"Greg brought you to the hospital after he had taken care of this Josh fellow. You were unresponsive due to having fallen into psychological shock. To be honest Lisa, my biggest fear for you right now is that you develop Posttraumatic Stress Disorder," Jenny was saying as House gently rocked Cuddy back and forth in his arms. Cuddy glanced back at her before disentangling herself from House's lap, but not moving far from him.
"Do…do you think I'm going to?" the brunette questioned.
"There is no exact science to theorizing who does and who does not develop PTSD. There is a higher chance for you to develop it now due to having been involved in a sexual assault. The best thing for you to do is exactly what you're doing. You're remembering what happened and you're openly talking about it. Considering this just happened yesterday, you are doing excessively well," Jenny explained. Cuddy nodded, sniffing loudly. "You did really well today Lisa. Why don't you get some rest for the rest of the day and then give me a call when you're feeling up to talking with me again? Greg can give you the number."
"Okay…thank you," Cuddy responded. "I… I'm going to go to the bathroom," she added after a moment, picking herself up off the couch and then wandering to the bathroom. Jenny sighed, closing her notebook and leaning back in her chair.
"She did well, Greg," the blonde sighed. House nodded.
"She's resilient. Normally I would make a comment about how her boobs or her ass make her that way, but somehow I just don't think I can do that anymore," House grumbled, poking at the bruises on the back of his hand. Jenny just smiled.
"Try and keep her away from other people for the weekend, unless she wants to see someone, then just make sure you're with her when she's around them. You're her one constant Greg. You're the only one that she feels comfortable with at the moment. Don't screw that up." House watched his oldest friend stand up, pulling on her coat again as she headed for the front door. He stood up, wincing at the pain in his thigh before he moved to follow her.
"What should I tell Wilson?" he called after the blonde, coming to stand next to her on the porch as she looked out at the rain with contempt. "And why didn't you ask her why she was scared of him?"
"These things, these psychological things that deal with physical and emotional trauma take time, Greg. You of all people should know that," Jenny muttered. He looked at her with a bored expression. "The first thing I had to do was to get her to accept what happened. She did. And she even talked about it. These are very big steps to be taking. The Wilson issue can be talked about next time. You can… you can tell him whatever Lisa wants the staff of the hospital to know." She turned to leave, stopping right before she stepped off the porch and into the downpour. "Greg," she started, "when was the last time you saw someone about your PTSD?"
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Muahahahahahaha!! (As requested by Michelle. Sorry, it didn't really fit into the last sentence.)
A/N: So because there were so many responses to the last chapter, I have decided to bribe you again. If you review, I'll send you a little snippet of the next chapter. 'Fraid I can't give you a choice this time, but something is better than nothing, right? :)
