~ Chapter Ten ~
Frozen In Time

The snow finally stopped around dusk. The thick fall of fluffy flakes had trickled down into a sporadic dusting of tiny white dots. House had spent the afternoon watching Cuddy interact with Rachel. He knew she was on edge; she wasn't used to having him around. He sat on the couch, and he channel surfed while Rachel played. Cuddy would sit next to him, then get up, then sit down again.

"You're making me dizzy, jumping up and down like a Mexican jumping bean," he finally snorted, turning off the T.V.

She sat back down on the couch, wringing her hands. "I'm just not used to having nothing to do," she sighed. "Usually, I'm still at the office, or on the phone." She ran her fingers through her hair. "There's just so much to do, and here I am. Stuck."

He leaned back against the back of the couch, lounging. "You should try doing nothing. It's great, trust me." He gave her a little wink, and she rolled her eyes. Her cell phone began to beep, and he watched as she launched herself at it, taking it into another room. He watched the little round-faced girl watched her mother as Cuddy left the room, her dark eyes wide. "Get used to it kid. You're mother's a great business woman. Unfortunately, that means you'll be left in the dust every once in a while." The little girl swiveled her head around, and she eyed the tall, rangy strange man on the sofa. After a moment, she turned back to her toys, muttering happily to herself.

Cuddy came back into the room a few minutes later, and she slumped on the couch. He didn't take his eyes from the hockey game on T.V., but he did raise his eyebrows in question. She frowned, then sighed. "Wilson was letting me know that everything was fine at the hospital. No emergencies, no insane doctors performing dangerous and possible illegal procedures," she gave him a pointed look, and he had to struggle from grinning. "It has been difficult for the EMT's to get in and out, but now that the storm's slacking, the city has begun to plow. It might be another few days before everyone's dug out."

He pondered her words, then he jerked his head in a short nod. "Guess I'm staying here, then." He propped his feet up on the coffee table, and he put his hands behind his head. "Good thing your couch is comfy."

She glared at him. "I'm glad you find my place suitable."

He grinned at her. "It's adequate." Rachel began hammering her blocks together. "Too bad the brat has to ruin the scenery."

Cuddy rolled her eyes, then glanced at the clock. "It's time for her dinner, anyway." She started to get up, but he darted out a hand.

He clasped her wrist gently, and he brushed the soft skin with the pad of his thumb. He gave her an undecipherable look, his blue eyes swirling with something that she just couldn't put her finger on. "It's okay, Cuddy." The moment passed as quickly as it started, and he broke the contact, turning his attention back to the Flyers game. She hesitated, then she picked Rachel up, and she took her into the dining room.

Rachel started being fussy, and Cuddy had to struggle to get her into her high chair. Once there, she started banging on the small plastic tray that kept her in the seat, and she tried to wriggle out of it. "Rachel," Cuddy sighed, already frazzled. "Just sit, and relax." She pursed her lips as Rachel began to wail, grabbing at Cuddy with her chubby hands. Cuddy counted to ten, then she picked up the little girl, and she began soothing her, trying to calm her down.

House frowned and wrinkled up his nose in annoyance at the sound of Rachel's wails. "That kid's way too much trouble than she's worth," he muttered to himself, and he tried to focus on the game. When her cries didn't go away, he shut off the T.V. He stood up, and he stretched, pausing when his stomach let out a loud rumble. He hadn't eaten since Cuddy had given him his clothes back, and then, he had only had a sandwich and a bowl of soup. His metabolism was demanding something much more substantial. He tossed the remote on the couch, then headed into the kitchen

He browsed Cuddy's cupboards, and he snorted in frustration. He began pulling out ingredients, and he was organizing them when she came back into the kitchen. She paused, watching him as his capable hands chopped and sliced. She opened the refrigerator, and she began to gather the items she had set aside for Rachel's dinner, all the while watching him out of the corner of her eyes. His hands were deft and precise. He finally rolled his eyes. "Ogle me later. Feed the brat before I find some Ativan to give her." She broke out of her trance, then microwaved Rachel's dinner. She arraigned the items on a plate, then she left the kitchen.

Rachel was an active eater, and tonight, she felt the need to share with Cuddy. Unfortunately, sharing with Cuddy meant that Cuddy wound up wearing most of Rachel's dinner. She sighed, as a splat of mashed potatoes landed on her face. She felt her face heat up, and irritation bubbled up with in her. She looked at Rachel, who, at first, seemed to know what she had done. The little girl's eyes grew wide with fear, then, seeing the look of shock on her mother's face, a laugh burst out.

Cuddy put down the spoon, and she left the room, heading towards the bathroom. House stuck his head outside the kitchen door, watching her as she stormed down the hallway. He tilted his head to one side, then he put the pot on simmer. He headed into the dining room, where Rachel was talking gibberish to herself, a puzzled frown on her chubby features. He saw the mess surrounding the girl, then grinned. "Kid, only I'm allowed to irritate your mom that much," he informed her, sitting down in the chair that Cuddy was in. "And that's only because I know what to do to make up for it." He picked up the spoon, and he wrinkled his face up at the food. "Ugh, mashed potatoes and peas. I think I'd throw a tantrum, too. But this is what your mom wants you to eat, so here goes, kid." He picked up the spoon, and he began to feed her.

Cuddy washed her face, trying not to cry. She was on emotional overload, and she didn't know how to handle it. With what was going on with House, the snow storm that had brought them both together, being away from her hospital, and Rachel's tantrums, she was teetering on the edge. She lifted her head up, and she stared at herself in the mirror. It was as if of seeing a ghost. Her eyes were red, with dark circles underneath them, and her skin pale. She wore no make up, and her hair was pulled back in a limp tail. At first, she was aghast, then, a laugh bubbled up from her throat. "I can do this," she told her reflection. "I'm Lisa Cuddy, Dean of Medicine, and Slayer of Pain-In-The-Ass Doctors and Insurance Agents. I can do this. I can handle the fourteen month old and fifty year old children." She took another deep breath. "I can do this," she exhaled, closing her eyes, and bracing herself.

Feeling both calmer and more empowered, she headed back to the dining room, and her heart nearly burst at the sight that greeted her. House was sitting on a chair, in front of Rachel, who was happily gooing and chattering to herself as he fed her spoonfuls of food. Every once in a while, she would push the spoon aside, and she would pick up the peas with her tiny fingers. She would meticulously eat them one at a time, smiling proudly.

It was a few minutes before House noticed she was there, and she was trying not to break the spell. It was a sight she had never even hoped she would ever see, and somehow, now that she knew she was glimpsing it, it still seemed surreal.

"Back from your mental meltdown?" House asked, not turning around. He put the spoon down on the plate, and he stood up, turning toward her. He quickly made his way across the room, moving fast despite his pronounced limp. He worked up his best scowl, and he handed her the plate. "I better not have burnt the broth," he growled, then he left the room.

After Rachel finished her dinner, Cuddy bathed her, then dressed her for bed. After about forty-five minutes of fussing, the little girl finally went to sleep, leaving Cuddy equally as exhausted in her wake.

Her home had filled with a delicious, spicy smell during that time, and she made her way down the hall. She peaked into the kitchen and found nothing but a pile of dirty pots and pans. She actually growled at the sight, promising to kill someone for not cleaning up their mess. She stormed into the dining room, and her anger left her, for the moment. "You set the table?" she exclaimed outloud. Her eyes widened at the table, which even had a couple of stubby red and green candles lit on it.

He jerked his head up. "You've put up with me for the past few days," he shrugged reluctantly. "Figured the most I could do is cook you dinner."

"It smells delicious." She slid into a seat, and he poured her a glass of wine.

"I raided your wine cabinet," he informed her brusquely, and he sat down.

They ate in silence, though she burned to ask him questions. Somehow, she knew if she did, she would ruin the moment. Besides, with the snowfall, she'd at least have one more day with him. One more day to try and get into his brain. This moment was just to relax, and to see a softer side of him. A side he rarely showed. She frowned at that thought, knowing that he would punish her later for that.

After dinner, he stayed up, reading, while she went to bed. A few hours later, she felt his heavy body slide into bed next to her, and she stirred, feeling his arms wrap around her. She pressed back against him, reassured by his presence. For the first time in a long time, she felt content. Not happy, not yet, but content. She feel back asleep, surrounded by his warmth, knowing that it couldn't last.