Part 11
The sound of a baby fussing woke Cuddy from a sound sleep.
Sarah was pretty good about sleeping through the night, usually only waking up once for a feeding or a change, sometimes twice if she'd napped too long in the afternoon. When she did wake, Cuddy or House always tried to get to her quickly so she didn't get wound up enough to wake Rachel.
Rising, Cuddy went to take care of her, but noted House's side of the bed was empty. He had been working on a case from the office upstairs when she'd turned in after putting the girls down. She figured he was still working up there since the covers weren't mussed.
Cuddy knew that's where he was when she stepped into the hall and heard Sarah's soft cries coming from upstairs. They stopped while Cuddy was on her way up to the office.
She paused in the doorway and smiled at the sight of House standing by his whiteboard with their youngest girl on his shoulder. He was rubbing her back in circles as she tucked her head in the crook of his neck.
Sarah, like Rachel, had taken to him quickly. He still found himself surprised by that but he was adapting. He was a good father.
Hearing another sound, a snuffling of sorts, Cuddy searched the shadows of the room and shook her head in amusement when she saw their other daughter sleeping on her stomach on the couch, one arm and one leg hanging off the side. House's sport jacket was haphazardly thrown over her, as if she had covered herself with it.
Rachel. She still found him in the night. Cuddy wondered if she'd alerted him to Sarah or if she'd been in the room already. Either was likely.
Easing from the doorway, Cuddy stopped by the couch and better covered Rachel before moving to him. He looked over at her as she approached.
"You look exhausted," she observed.
He didn't comment, but he did hand Sarah off when she reached for her. The little girl fussed a little but quieted quickly as Cuddy held her as House had and patted her back gently.
"Did you see your other guest?"
He let out a little sound. "She walked in here like a zombie, laid down, pulled my jacket off the couch, and went right back to sleep."
Cuddy smiled at him. "She's a daddy's girl."
"Either that or she's a sleepwalker."
"If so, she'd do it all the time," Cuddy said. "But she only does it when you're working."
He looked at Sarah. "She wasn't hungry and didn't need a change."
"Probably separation anxiety. She may have heard Rachel get up," Cuddy said softly, adding to herself, or maybe she just missed her daddy.
Laying her hand on his chest, Cuddy confessed, "I'm having a little separation anxiety myself. You where you can come and try to rest for a while?"
He nodded but said, "I don't know if I can sleep."
She moved her hand up to brush her fingers across his temple. "Crowded?"
"Yeah," he said, his gaze returning to the white board. He frowned at it.
Sensing his frustration, Cuddy laid her hand on his arm. "Let's put the girls back to bed," she said quietly, "Then we'll see about a distraction."
His gaze returned to her, his expression one of gratitude.
"Okay."
Cuddy waited until he had gathered up his phone then Rachel before heading back downstairs. He took the lift while she took the stairs.
Once the children were resettled, he caught her by the hand and they went to their bedroom. There, he sat on the side of the bed and slowly undressed.
"You want a shower?" she asked.
"Sounds good," he said.
Cuddy went and ran the water so it would warm. He came in while she was setting out a towel. He set his phone on the counter then sat on the tub stool and took off his prosthetic and sock. She took them and put them just inside the bedroom.
She watched him use the special railings and move expertly into the shower.
"I'll keep an ear out for the phone," she said but he asked her to join him.
She did, happily stripping down and slipping into the stall with him. She had promised him a distraction and he accepted it in the currency of touch, as he so often did. He gave, too, his hands moving tenderly over her body as she touched his, seeking to soothe away the tension and worry that had settled into the muscles of his neck and shoulders and back.
When he tilted his head back and looked up at her, she kissed him softly. He let her wash his hair then, and dry him off once they were out of the shower. He laid down in the bed with her and she snuggled against his side.
Kissing the top of her head, he whispered his thanks.
"You're welcome," she said softly and caressed his chest, hoping the continued contact would relax him further. He really needed to sleep, but she had a feeling he wasn't going to. His thoughts were occupied still. She'd thought with his case until he spoke.
"I wanted it today."
"Wanted what?" she asked, confused and yet… "Vicodin," she said softly in answer to her own question.
When he didn't respond right away, Cuddy knew she'd guessed rightly. She drew back from him, but only far enough to look at him without rising up. She wanted to keep contact with him, not wanting him to think her movement was anything other than a way to meet his gaze as he turned his head toward her.
"Why?" she asked.
"I don't know."
He looked terribly confused, telling her his answer was honest.
"We're okay," he whispered. "Here is okay. Work is okay." He shook his head. "I don't know."
Cuddy heard his frustration and was concerned that he had not only wanted the drug but could not pinpoint as to why. Her heart hurt for him.
"Did you do anything about it?" she asked, hating that she needed to.
"No," he said without offense. "The girls… You… I didn't want it more than you."
At that answer, she gave him an understanding smile and touched his cheek.
"What do you want to do?" she asked softly.
"Call Nolan," he sighed and she felt tension leave him at saying the words aloud.
"I think that's a good idea," she said then encouraged him. "Thank you for telling me."
He just looked at her, said with hushed conviction, "I love you."
Those words… There was a time when he wouldn't have said anything until it was catastrophic, or she figured it out for herself. Or he would have not told her because he was afraid of how she'd react. They'd come a long way since Princeton.
"I love you," she said, brushing the backs of her fingers along his cheek before rolling onto her back.
"Come here," she whispered, patting her chest lightly.
He came to her without pause, again accepting the comfort she offered as he shift until he was laying his head where she'd touched. She wrapped her arms around him and ran her fingers through his hair, loving filling her.
He was so vulnerable at times, still, fragile more than he'd ever been in Michigan. But she could tell that man was coming back to her, her House. Older and wiser, but coming back and moving well beyond who he'd become in Princeton under the influence of pain and drugs.
Things were better for him now, for them, and she wanted them to stay that way. So she'd support him and help him however she could. For now, he rest was a priority and she encouraged him to do just that.
"Sleep," she breathed as she raised her head enough to kiss the balding crown of his head. "Just sleep."
He did. And so did she.
