House woke up in the middle of the night. After staying held together for a little longer, Cuddy has disentangled herself from his clutches and lain down, saying that she was exhausted and needed to sleep. He'd done as she'd asked, namely lying beside her but not touching her.
He realised that he hadn't woken up by chance - something had disturbed him. The something being Cuddy vacating her place under the covers. He placed his palm on the spot where she'd been laying, and, judging by it's warmth, gleaned that she hadn't been gone for long.
He doubted that she'd slept much anyway. They'd got home about four, and Cuddy had been in bed by seven, citing exhaustion. After Rachel's impromptu nap had ended she'd wailed to see her mom again. Cuddy had read her a story and House had carried the girl to her own bed - though he'd seen the internal battle raging inside Cuddy. He knew that she wanted to keep her daughter close, and no doubt knew that that's what Rachel would have wanted too. But he assumed she hadn't wanted to disrupt the routine. She'd wanted to make this easy for Rachel.
Evelyn had kept to herself. She'd come in just after Rachel had been extracted and kissed Cuddy's cheek, telling her daughter simply that she loved her. House had stood outside the door and listened, ready to jump in if Cuddy needed it. He'd also checked outside the curtains, the journalists having finally left. House knew they'd be back tomorrow, but he took some solace in knowing that they wouldn't be disturbed in the night.
Rephrase. Knowing that they wouldn't be disturbed in the night by reporters. Nightmares plagued most of the members of the household - the ones who were sleeping anyway. However, these nightmares were unbeknownst to the others. Evelyn would never disturb them because of a nightmare, Rachel was terrified that if she told mommy she was having nightmares then she'd go away again (not that she'd ever tell mommy that) and House was too busy checking on Cuddy to be bothered by his own night terrors.
After looking at the empty space for a moment he swung his good leg out of the bed and padded into the darkened kitchen. He stared for a minute and just as he decided there was nothing there a shadow moved on the couch. He sighed inwardly, and whispered her name to try and minimise the scare. "Cuddy," he murmured.
She still jumped. "You scared the crap out of me," she hissed, her chest heaving.
"You should be asleep," he told her, coming to sit on the couch beside her.
"Couldn't," she replied.
"Did you take the Xanax?" He asked.
"Yes." She said shortly. "Didn't work."
He changed tack. After waiting a second, he looked to the coffee table. "What are you doing?" He asked, peering down.
She chuckled a little, obviously laughing at herself. "Looking through photos," she told him.
"You can barely see them," he pointed out.
"It's not about seeing them," she muttered, so quietly that House thought she didn't want him to hear. "It's about knowing they were taken in the first place. That there were times I wanted to commemorate with a picture."
His heart ached for her. "Cuddy," he croaked.
She turned to him and he could see her bruises. He wanted to kiss them all away while simultaneously wanting to kill the son of a bitch responsible - whether they were happy or sad, broken or whole, she always evoked feelings from him that no one else could.
"What?" She whispered after a second. "What is it?"
It was dark, and he hoped she couldn't see the watery sheen of tears in his eyes. "You are the only good thing in my life," he began. "I mean, diagnostics is what I do and Wilson is my best friend but . . . you're something else. There's something about you that's like . . . Fuck, I don't know, you're just this amazing woman who somehow puts up with me. You amaze me, Cuddy. And I really do love you more than anything else. You are so much a part of me. And I just wanted to tell you that . . . these last two months, when I thought you weren't coming back, were the longest two months of my life. I wanted you so badly, I wanted to know that you were safe. I want you just to come back. And I didn't want anyone to have hurt you," he was looking down in his lap. He hadn't looked up since he'd started his spiel.
"I am sorry," he continued. "I failed you. I know I don't bring much to our relationship but I did think I could keep you safe. I have no idea what you were thinking while you were . . . gone, but if you were mad at me because I let him take you, then . . . I guess I deserve that. I let you down, and not in the way I usually do. You're . . . I can see it in your eyes, and the words you use. There's something different now. It's like a part of you is gone. I know it's only been three days and you need time, we all need time, but . . . I missed you so much. And I'm not gonna lie - about anything - I wish you were fine. I wish that that bastard hadn't touched you. It kills me that he did." There was a moment of silence. "Not tomorrow, not the day after, not a year from now, but someday I need you to come back. I need to know that you're okay. That you will be okay."
He looked at her weeping eyes in the darkness. "I couldn't live without you," he said softly.
She met his gaze and interlaced her fingers with his. "I will be okay," she told him. "But I need you to tell me the same thing. Everyday all I thought was you and Rachel. You are my family, I love you. I'm just feeling . . . so many things I can't explain. So many things I don't want to deal with. I'm so angry." She screwed up her face with tears. "I feel like I let him hurt me. That somehow I didn't stop it. I tried, I really really did. And then I was out and I forgot how to feel anything."
She looked at him. "It was only when I was having the kit done that it all hit me. I tell you, feeling nothing is better than feeling everything. This shouldn't have happened to me. To anyone. He took away so much from me; my pride, my safety, any semblance of control I ever had. I want to be who I was. I want to be that woman that you love."
Her tears were falling fast now. "I can't explain how I feel. I always thought that if this ever happened to me I'd be stronger. I'd be able to deal . . . but it's so new, this feeling. Like the bottom's fallen out of everything in my life. I hear a door, or a pipe, and I see that door. I see that place. Something . . . terrible happened to me, I know that. I can deal with it, I just don't want to. I don't want this to be my life. I want what I had back," she wailed, breaking down.
House wrapped her in his embrace. "Ssh," he soothed, but she kept going.
"I love you. So much. More than you will ever know . . . House, I'm not mad. You did nothing wrong, you've been perfect." She looked up from his shoulder into his eyes. "Rachel was telling me earlier about everything you did for her. She trusts you, House. Really trusts you. You made her feel safe in a time when it would be so easy for her get lost. I want to trust you, to help you help me - I just can't . . . not yet."
"There's no pressure," he told her seriously. "No expectations. There's just you. I'm going to try this whole . . . caring thing. I know you, I know that you won't let this destroy you. Don't be ashamed, don't go to fast. I need you to be yourself again. Your daughter needs it. I don't care what it takes - I'll get bodyguards to stand outside, I'll buy a thousand guns. We could move to the Bahamas or somewhere, where no one would bother us. You'd feel safe," he implored. "Tell me what you need. I will give to you, I'll do it for you. I'll do anything for you." He broke off, breath ragged.
As he held her in his arms, rocking her as she cried he still couldn't believe he was holding her again. That she lived, that she was still here. It was so much more than he'd expected, but he realised that he'd been preparing for the news of her death and consequently hadn't prepared for news of her rescue.
He didn't know how to do this. She was hurting, she was in so much pain. She'd experienced things he could only have nightmares about - and he could see them flitting across her eyes. Changing the view on the world.
She had to survive this. That son of a bitch did not break her.
But as he rocked her, as a father would a baby, he couldn't say that for certain. Her sobs weakened and she seemed to be comfortable just being near him, sharing body heat. She didn't sleep again that night, but neither did he.
In fact, as morning broke the next day, he could only say one thing for certain.
It was going to be a long road.
