Disclaimer - We do not own House M.D. It all belongs to David Shore and Fox.
~Chapter 9~
"I going to Calgary tomorrow," Wilson said carefully looking at House.
"Whoa, Jimmy," House spoke with his mouth full, chewing happily on his French fries, "I am afraid the qualifications for the Greatest Outdoor Show on Earth have been completed months ago."
"No, I am not going for the Calgary Stampede, House. I am attending a week long World Congress on Thyroid Cancer," Wilson calmly explained.
"A week? As in 7 days?" House finally caught on what Wilson was talking about.
"Yes, Wednesday to Wednesday. That's why I wanted to ask you…" Wilson tried to find the right words but House interrupted him.
"Ha! I knew there was something behind this. You wanted to make me all soft and mushy by feeding me before you executed your evil plan," House pointed at him with a French fry.
"That is not true. I only want to ask you for a favor, House," Wilson tried to calm the situation.
"And since when I am doing you favors?" House said with a hint of menace.
"Well you might consider starting as of today," Wilson added timidly.
"What is it?" House asked stuffing his mouth again with a piece of meat and some potatoes.
"I want you to take care of Cuddy while I am in Calgary," Wilson said in one breath.
There was no change on House's face. Wilson's request did not really surprise him. When he swallowed his last piece House said, "I am already doing that, so it's hardly a favor."
"That is not what you had in mind. I want the rest of it, so spit!" House demanded.
Wilson attempted to speak with his mouth full and a small piece flew across the table.
House watched in amusement and simply added, "I didn't mean literally Jimmy!" A huge smile appeared on House's face and Wilson slightly blushed. "Come on, I don't have a whole day, what is it?" House asked again.
"Well, since she will have a PICC line inserted and, knowing Cuddy, she will likely demand to work. I thought you could have her stay at your place, to keep an eye on her. She only has us, House!" Wilson said and mentally shielded himself from the verbal attacks he was expecting from House. Instead, House plainly said, "OK."
Wilson looked at him in disbelief; eyes wide open. He put his silverware down and took a sip of ice tea he ordered earlier.
"Just OK? No protests; no insults? No name calling or insulting my ancestors?" Wilson spoke, still recovering from the verbal shock. He could not believe that House agreed to something without putting up a fight.
"No. You asked me for a favor and I said yes. I think that's how the favors usually work," House added childishly and took a sip of his Coke.
"Yes but no sarcastic comments or condescending remarks?" Wilson demanded.
"No. You asked me and said yes. Can't I do something nice?" House asked, with a fake pout.
"Give me a break. You never do anything nice, at least not without the hope of getting something in return," Wilson was on a defensive, "What's in it for you?"
"Apart from Cuddy's exquisite underwear, I am trying to help you for once," House said in a funny voice.
"Fine. If you want to play it that way, fine, just help her – please."
"I am not guaranteeing what will come out of it, but I'll do my best. Scout's honor!" House said mockingly and raised three fingers in scout's salute.
"Grow up!" Wilson said and got up, clearing his side of the table. House soon followed. When they exited the cafeteria, Wilson headed for the main exit.
House stopped him, "Where do you think you are going?"
"House, I am not going on a last-minute vacation deal. I am actually going to a serious medical conference, I need to prepare and pack, if you don't mind," Wilson said seriously.
"Fine, I hope you don't bring that attitude with you. I heard the Canuck chicks don't really dig snootiness," House said wiggling his nose. Then he added, "And yes, bring me a souvenir. I mean a real souvenir and not some chick's panties," House said with fake annoyance.
Wilson rolled his eyes and left, leaving House standing alone in the PPTH lobby. For a second he thought what to do and decided to pay Cuddy a visit. He slowly limped to her room.
House stopped in front of Cuddy's room and looked through the glass. She could not see him since her head was bent down and she was scribbling something into her big red book. Obviously, she felt better; that gave him a lot of hope. A man who though that hope was for sissies suddenly found himself clutching to it as if his life depended on it. In a sense, his life did depend on it. For a second he was unsure whether to go in or not when the head cardiology nurse approached him. That jumpstarted him and they walked in together. Cuddy looked up and gave them both a smile.
"Dr. House, it says here you ordered a PICC line to be inserted tomorrow morning," the nurse looked down at her paperwork and demanded an answer.
"House, a PICC line? Is it really necessary?" Cuddy demanded an answer raising her eyebrow.
"What's with everyone today? Of course it is necessary. Cuddy, you've lost 20% of your pre-pregnancy weight. We need to feed you somehow!" He said, hiding his concern behind his medical profession.
"No more chicken?" she said cutely.
"I am afraid not," he gave her a half-smile.
"Dr. House, should we use her left arm to give her more mobility?" the nurse was writing the instructions for the morning shift.
"No!" House and Cuddy said in unison and House continued,
"Dr. Cuddy is a lefty and she needs her left hand for mobility.
"So you want me to use her right, correct?" she was trying to cover all grounds.
"Yeah genius unless she has a third hand that I don't know of," House said sarcastically and literally drove the nurse out.
"House, she was only trying to be methodical and avoid any possible mistakes. Everyone knows how much you hate mistakes!" Cuddy said apologetically signaling to him that she wanted him to sit next to her.
He approached slowly and rested his cane across her bed. Then in two simple moves, he sat next to her left side. She closed her big red book, leaving the pen inside, and put it away on the nightstand. He noticed it was her diary. For a second that spiked his attention and awoke his curiosity but quickly he shifted his gaze to her face. Still pale and visibly exhausted but with a spark back in her beautiful, blue eyes.
"How are you feeling today?" he simply asked.
His concern touched her deeply. She looked away and focused her gaze on the white blinds protecting the room from curious eyes.
She barely whispered, "I am fine, I think. Of course scared and worried, but generally I think I feel fine"
"Why are you scared and worried?" he asked hoping she would share her fears with him.
"I am scared for this child," she lightly patted her stomach, "and I am worried that I won't be able to do my job and the work has been piling up, I assume," she honestly articulated her words.
"Assumption is the mother of all screw-ups my dear Dean of Medicine," he said mockingly, "However, your ass has been covered, at least professionally," he gave her a significant look and added a sexual innuendo without any shame.
"House!" she screamed a fake protest.
"Don't worry Cuddy! Wilson has graciously stepped in," then he paused for a second and continued when he got Cuddy's attention, "and when I say graciously I mean like a stampede bull in a china store." Cuddy let a giggle out and that gave House courage to proceed, "And since he is going to Calgary tomorrow, the Board will hire a temp while you are out."
"They are replacing me completely?" Cuddy asked in shock already aware of the fact that Wilson was going to a medical conference.
"No. You and the temp will each work half a day given that you feel better," he explained
"But…" she protested.
"We'll talk about it tomorrow, when we know more. Now you need to rest!" he said authoritatively.
"House, what is wrong with me?" she suddenly remembered the reason she was in the hospital bed.
He lifted his eyes and realized how important this was for her. Without saying a word and even planning it, he extended his hand and closed it on hers. Then he looked at her lips, slightly pouting and slightly inviting him to kiss them. He shook off that thought and focused back on her question.
"We have excluded a lot of things. Right now, I am testing you for the Bartter and Gitelman syndromes, and leaning towards Bartter's since it explains more. However many things are still inconclusive Cuddy." House said honestly making sure not to upset her too much.
"Bartter's? But it usually occurs in infancy," Cuddy said knowledgeably.
"That's why I am testing for it first. For both the classic, and the neonatal Bartter's. If it's Gitelman's, we'll fix you," he added with a smile.
"And if it's Bartter's I'll give a birth to a cripple," she said bitterly. Only when the last word resonated in the room she realized what she had said. House had already withdrawn his hand. She reached for his hand and deeply sighed,
"I am sorry House! I didn't mean it that way," her blue eyes were pleading with him
"It's OK!" he said, closing himself back in.
"House..." his hand was slipping from hers as he was getting up.
"Cuddy, really! It's OK! I need to go anyway. I will see you in the morning," he plainly said with no emotions or promise and left her room, hurt in more ways than one.
She leaned back and slowly put her head on the pillow. She felt as if she had just broken something very precious between them. One tear stubbornly fought its way forward and she let it drop. His heart is made of glass – sometimes bulletproof, other times porcelain – but glass nonetheless, she thought to herself, and closed her eyes.