The Daylight

Chapter 12

House didn't take the phone or wait for the nurse to explain what had happened. He spun back toward the front door and after two long strides he dropped his cane which clattered to the floor with an echo that seemed to hold everyone else where they were watching as if in slow motion as House broke into a run. He crossed the lobby and hit the front doors, shoving passed a woman with a broken arm and disappeared toward the parking lot.

Wilson shook himself and grabbed the phone. "What's going on?" he said.

A minute later Wilson stormed out of the building and searched for House's car, which he spotted still in its parking space. He crossed over and saw House pushing himself off his knees in the snow, his breathing heavy and haggard.

"House!" he called out and ran over to help his friend off the ground.

"She wanted me to go with them," House said in a breathless tortured voice.

"So you're going to run through the snow and ice on a bad leg, fall and give yourself a concussion just to teach yourself a lesson?" Wilson pulled House around to the passenger side and opened the door. House fell into, more than sat down in, the seat and tossed his head back against the headrest. He pressed his hand down on his thigh and cringed.

Wilson came around to the driver's side and got in. He held his hands out for the keys which House surrendered without a word. "They were in a car accident," Wilson said as he pulled out of the lot and onto the main street toward the interstate. House swallowed hard and looked down at his feet on the floorboard. "Cuddy has some internal bleeding and she has to go into surgery this afternoon." House turned his head toward Wilson, his eyes wide, his mind calculating all the possible consequences to internal bleeding depending on how extensive the damage.

"And Rachel?" he finally coughed out.

Wilson nodded, choosing his words carefully. "She was in the car," he said. "The ER nurse wouldn't give me any details; she said she was looking for next of kin." House closed his eyes and leaned against the cold glass. Wilson took a deep breath. "Should we try to get a flight?" He said, his pragmatic coping mechanism kicking into gear. "It's a four hour drive, but there's no guarantee that if we tried to get a flight we'd get there any quicker. It might be better to just drive straight through—"

House cut him off. "What did you tell them?"

"What?"

"When they asked for next of kin, what did you say?"

"I told them we'd be there as fast as we could." Wilson gripped the steering wheel tight already knowing what was in House's mind.

"Technically Cuddy's mom is next of kin. Legally."

Wilson glanced over at House wondering at the possibility that this was a responsibility that House no longer wanted. "Do you want me to call her?"

House stared at the road ahead, the broken white lines whipping by and he remembered Amber's ER doctor after the bus crash. That's not your call to make. House slowly shook his head. "After we get there and figure out what's happening, we'll call." He stared at the road a moment longer. "You're right; driving is quicker," he said. "Take 95."

The emergency room at St. Francis was chaotic and crowded, and House, who had tunnel vision the entire way up, walked into the building already on offense.

"Lisa Cuddy," he barked at a nurse at information. The nurse's eyes widened and she reached for a file.

"What's your name?" She asked.

"Greg House."

"Mr. House you were listed on Dr. Cuddy's emergency contact sheet. We called because we're trying to locate next of kin."

Wilson stepped up to the counter. "We haven't been able to reach her mother," he lied. "What's happened?"

"What's your relationship to Dr. Cuddy?" The nurse asked. Her tone was flat and firm. Not harsh but unyielding.

"We're her friends," Wilson said, giving House a sidelong glance. The nurse gave them a sympathetic smile and started to shake her head, but House slammed a flat hand down on the counter sending a stack of papers flying to the ground. "Sir!"

"I'm Rachel Cuddy's father," he said, his eyes locked into the nurse's face.

Wilson's eyes grew wide but House stepped in front of him and glared at the nurse for a moment. When she didn't respond he said, "I have to see them."

The nurse nodded slowly and put Cuddy's file down on the desk and picked up another one. "Dr. Cuddy just went into surgery," she said. He had startled her, and her voice was unsteady. "I can tell you she's stable so far, but that's all I can say until her mother gets here." House glanced at Wilson and he nodded.

"I'll call her," he said.

"What about Rachel?" House turned his attention back to the nurse.

"She…" the nurse paused and swallowed, apparently nervous as to how House would react to what she had to tell him.

"Nevermind," he said. "Just tell me where she's at."

"Mr. House—"

"Where is she?" he snapped.

The nurse stepped from around the station and took his elbow. "She's in a coma," she told him. House felt like he had been kicked in the chest. He raised a hand to his mouth but said nothing. "Her doctor's will come and talk to you, but you should know what to expect." House looked at her wide eyed and was, for the first time since he got the phone call, genuinely terrified. "The van that hit them, hit the driver's side. You're daughter's car seat was on that side, and…she is very badly hurt."

The nurse led him down a long hallway and through a set of doors marked, "Intensive Care Unit—Hospital Personnel Only"

As they stepped into the room, House felt his stomach turn upside down. She was so small in that bed. So tiny. But her face was bruised and twice its normal size. Her eyes and lips where purple and she had bandages on her scalp. Her tiny left hand was wrapped in white gauze and she had a shunt in her brain to drain the blood.

House closed his eyes and turned away from her. His eyes pooled as he looked up at the nurse. She reached out to touch his arm but he shook her off. "Get her doctor," he said. "And come tell me when her mother is out of surgery."

The nurse dropped her hand to her side and nodded. House waited as she left the room and the door swung closed behind her. He swung his arm around and his fist hit the solid cement wall, and he felt the bones in his hand splinter and crack. He cried out and dropped into a chair next to her bed. His brain was overcome with a blinding pain, and he nearly blacked out. Blood started to run over his fingers. He wrapped his hand in the folds of his shirt and stared at the little girl. His breathing kept time with the short stopped beeps of her respirator, and his hand trembled as he put it on the bed next to her.

"You were supposed to be dead before you were even born," he whispered to her. "The fact that you're still alive…" He wanted to tell her that she was a miracle, but he didn't believe in such things. "You made me love you now you have to stay here and deal with me."

He watched her chest rise and fall but she didn't respond. Rationally he knew she wouldn't.

The door cracked open and a young doctor in a white lab coat stepped into the room. "Mr. House?" House nodded, but ignored the young man's outstretched hand.

"I'm Dr. Wiese," he stepped to the other side of Rachel's bed and examined her IV. He picked up her chart and scribbled something down. "I need to ask you some things about Rachel's medical history, is that alright?"

House nodded again. "Wha—what happened to her?"

"She has a severe concussion and when she came in she had a bleed in her brain. We've inserted a shunt to help drain the blood, but now we're starting to see some swelling." He paused to make sure House was following him, but got no response. "Shortly after that procedure she slipped into a comatose state. She has two broken ribs and her right leg is fractured."

House swallowed and his hand was instinctively drawn to his own thigh. "Tell me the guy driving the van who hit them is dead," his throat had gone raw.

Dr. Wiese took a step closer to House. "Mr. House I need you to tell me a couple of things and it is imperative that I get a straight answer from you, do you understand?"

House looked up at the doctor for the first time. "Doctor House," he corrected the younger man. "What do you need to know?"

"You're a physician?" He asked. House nodded again. "Then you know that your daughter's condition is very serious. If we can't distinguish new injuries from old ones we are going to have a difficult time diagnosing her." House narrowed his eyes but waited for Wiese to get to his question. Wiese cleared his throat. "Has there ever been any…" He paused and seemed uncomfortable. "Is there any history of domestic violence in her home?"

"Never." He was suddenly distracted from the horrifying sight in front of him and focusing on what the doctor was saying. There was only one reason to ask that kind of question. "You suspect brain damage."

Wiese nodded. "An MRI of her brain shows injuries that were not sustained during the crash. Old scaring."

House nodded and stood up. He stepped away from the bed and Wiese followed him. "It's not trauma," House told him. "Her mother had Eclampsia."

Wiese looked down at another chart. "We had Plainsboro send Dr. Cuddy's medical records, and that isn't in it."

House let out an indignant noise. "No, it isn't. Neither is a pregnancy or childbirth for that matter. Good to know you're paying attention though."

"Rachel's adopted?"

"You're sharp as a broken tack."

"You adopted her together, but you aren't married?"

"Not medically relevant," House snapped. The doctor stiffened, but decided not to push. House was the only person present who could give him any kind of insight at the moment.

"So her brain damage could be a byproduct of the eclampsia. Has she been diagnosed?"

House shook his head. "She's always seemed perfectly healthy." He looked down at her again. If she had shown symptoms of brain damage he was sure he would've seen it.

House looked back at Wiese. "Please," he said in his most restrained manner, "tell me what is happening with Cuddy." Wiese gave him a confused look and glanced back over at Rachel. "Lisa," House said. "Her mother."

Weise nodded. "Her surgeons said that so far everything is going as it should." He stopped again and stepped close to House. "Dr. House, when they brought her in she wasn't coherent, and she doesn't know about her daughter's condition yet."

House rubbed his hand over his face. It was becoming too much to process. In any other instance he would hide in the next room and take a cold clinical look at the situation and react in the most rational way. It usually worked for him but not this time.

"I'll have someone come and get you when she's out of surgery." Weise waited for House to answer him but all he got was a blank stare so he turned and left the room.

House stepped over to Rachel's bed and picked up her chart. He shuffled back to the door and then back over to the bed and sat down again before he opened it. His mind was swimming. He had taken responsibility for this little girl knowing full well he had no rights. Not as her father, not as her doctor, or anything else useful. And the only person who could give him that authority was laying unconscious on an operating table somewhere. It became hard to breathe. He tried to focus on the chart but his mind wouldn't leave Cuddy. He needed to see her.

He closed the chart and as he stood up the alarm on Rachel's heart monitor screamed. He dropped her chart to the floor. Defib. He thought. He pulled the sheet from her body and pressed his fingers over her tiny chest and started compressions. Within seconds two nurses and Dr. Wiese bust through the door and House allowed himself to be pushed aside. His eyes never left her monitor and he watched as the constant flat green line made a tiny jump as Wiese pulled out the infant paddles and called for them to clear. Another jump and it went flat again. And another. House had never really understood the metaphor of feeling one's heart sink. Not until now.