Disclaimer: See first chapter.
A/N: Oh time worn plot device, why have you snuck up on me? Oh I know why. House is being difficult. Typical. As usual, I love all reviews. Keep them coming.
He was there when she woke up – it was the middle of the night, she knew this because her she woke every night around two am, thanks to her recently squashed bladder. He never woke up usually, unless she woke him when she returned to bed. He wasn't in bed when she woke up, however. He was sitting in a chair by the bed, a large hand covering her now noticeable swell and speaking quietly. She didn't flinch, or let him know she was awake. He had been at work for close to thirty hours straight now – working on a case – and when she had spoken to him before she went to bed, he had sounded as frustrated as ever. She hadn't expected him here tonight. It could mean only one of two things. He had solved the case or the patient had died. Judging by the fact that he had opted to watch her sleep instead of crawling into bed with her, she guessed it was the latter.
His voice was soothing in the dark, and she fought to keep the smile off her face, because he would see that with his sharp eyes. He only ever did this at night. When she had first found out she was pregnant he had immediately declared that he wouldn't be talking to it until it was born, and there would be no flashcards or playing music for something that could barely hear vibration, let alone do anything other than develop properly. She had simply smiled, and said fine – but she had started talking to the baby before he could even possibly hear her. She didn't spend hours doing it – but occasionally – more now that she was almost six months along than in the earlier days – she would trail a hand across the swell there, secretly thrilled when she would feel a flutter of movement in response, and she would speak to him and tell him what she dreamt of for their future – all of theirs. House never did any of these things – but some nights, when he thought she was asleep, his hand would wrap around her non existent waist and he would whisper in the dark.
The first night she had been awake for it was two weeks ago. It was also the first time she felt the baby move, like a flutter of water tickling her insides. She didn't tell him then, but let him know the next morning. He was content at the news, knowing he wouldn't be able to feel it himself for a few weeks. She felt bad about that, but loved it at the same time. It was only a space of a few weeks when the movements were like a secret she shared with the baby. Something only they felt and knew. It also brought the fact home to her. She was pregnant. There was actually something growing in there and in a few short months she would be cradling her child. Her child. The thought always made her chest tighten and her throat close up with emotion. It was something she had given up hope for, and when she looked at Greg through her half closed eyes and thought about the miracle he had made possible, she felt as though she couldn't possibly carry this much love around with her and survive. It had to be fatal. It was so much love that it hurt her to think too long about it, she could only deal with brief spurts, so instead, she pushed the feeling away and concentrated on his voice, quite and strong in the dark room, and his hand, warm and comforting against her waist.
"Ultrasound's soon, are you ready yet girl? Daddy has a bet with Mommy – she thinks you're a boy, but I know better. Mommy is so sure of mother's intuition that she bet Daddy a whole week of clinic duty. So if you are a boy you need to suck those puppies up inside, that way I win anyway." She fought the urge to laugh at what he was saying, and the urge to kiss him senseless every time he said the word Daddy. "Besides, while I could easily handle a girl – you'd look just like her, all big blue eyes and brown hair – I don't think the world could handle another me." She could practically see his smirk from behind her closed lids. She heard him sigh and the mattress sank a bit as he leaned forward, placing his lips against the slight swell. At that moment she felt a strong kick and he pulled back, forgetting to be quiet for a moment. "Holy shit! Lisa!"
"No need to yell." She spoke with a smile, opening her eyes finally.
"I felt that!" A smile was crossing his face and she smiled back at him fully, shifting closer to the edge of the bed. He moved his hand higher, looking intently at her belly. "Do it again." He was back to whispering and after a few silent moments, she felt another movement and his eyes met hers. "I am so winning that bet. Only your daughter would kick me in the face the first time." She laughed out loud, moving to sit up and leaning on the edge of the bed.
"We'll find out soon enough. It's late-" she paused and saw the expression on his face fall for just a moment and she knew she was right earlier. She didn't offer him any of the platitudes that he so hated though, didn't tell him it would be alright, because she knew it wouldn't. Didn't tell him he did everything he could, because he already knew that he had and still it was never enough to chase the feeling away. "Come to bed." She spoke instead, her voice soft and he leaned forward, hands griping the edge of the mattress on either side of her. He pulled himself up, and her hands braced his waist as he got his bearing before he moved over to his side of the bed, limping without his cane. When he sank down to the side of the bed and shed his clothes, she rolled over, lifting the covers for him as he slid into the warmth she had created. They were silent for a moment as she lay beside him, belly just brushing his ribs.
"You know what a good name would be for a boy?"
"I thought you didn't think it was a boy." She spoke dryly, and he rolled to face her, his hands coming between them and gently brushing against the fabric of her nightgown.
"Because it's not- but it would almost be awesome if it was, because we could name him Maxwell." He paused, waiting for her to make the connection and when she did she chuckled.
"No."
"But we could get free-"
"No."
"Come on Cuddy-"
"I am not naming my child after coffee House. Go to sleep."
He was silent for a moment, and she closed her eyes again, hoping that like a child, he would do the same. "Max works for a boy and girl you know."
"It is not a glorious day, my friend? A glorious, clinic free day? In fact-"
"It's pouring outside, are you insane?" Wilson's voice was irritated as he looked up from his desk where he was writing in a chart. He walked over to the window of Wilson's office, where it was, in fact, raining heavily outside.
"Whatever. The best things happen in the rain anyway. The point is, that I was right, and she was wrong and we are having a little Maxwellina House – which means no clinic for me for a week. That's my girl." Wilson simply rolled his eyes and sighed.
"Mazel Tov. And Maxwellina?"
"Never mind. It worked better if she was a boy. You know – the coffee. Good to the last drop." He sat down heavily in the chair in front of Wilson's desk and smiled slightly.
"Wouldn't work. Cuddy is bound to at least hyphenate the names-"
"Nope. She hates that. She is insisting on Cuddy as a middle name, poor kid. But definitely just House."
"Really?" Wilson's tone was incredulous and he nodded smugly. It had shocked him too, when she had first mentioned it. He thought for sure their kid was going to end up a House-Cuddy because Lisa would never let his name be last. Surprisingly he hadn't cared. She could have said she was just going with Cuddy and he still wouldn't have cared. Apparently his fathers obsession with carrying on the House name hadn't extended to him – something he was grateful for. But Cuddy surprisingly was a traditionalist at heart – and had insisted on no hyphenations, just House.
"Really, really."
"You don't find that.. odd?" Wilson had put aside the file, along with any pretense he was working.
"Odd like out of character, or odd like a secret plot to get me to make her an honest woman?"
"Odd like if she wasn't serious about the two of you she wouldn't be doing that." Wilson spoke again, ignoring his comments. He shrugged in response, leaning his chin on his cane.
"Of course she's serious. In case you haven't noticed, I haven't slept alone for almost half a year now. Strange, I know – but there it is."
"You know what I mean." Wilson hissed the last word, like it was a state secret. He merely stared at him in response, purposefully looking confused. "God House- why do you make everything so difficult? She's serious. Seriously in lo-"
"And you know this how, exactly? Because she's giving the kid my name? Maybe she just wants my money-"
"She makes more than you."
"Oh that stings, man!" He spoke in a hurt tone, causing Wilson to roll his eyes in response.
"Why don't you even want to consider that she may actually have feelings for you? That you may actually be okay with that because you-"
"I do not." He snapped out, standing and gripping his cane tightly. Wilson didn't respond, just watched him with his best 'what the hell ever' face. "I don't. I just- she just- it's complicated." He didn't love her. It was convenient. If he loved her, it all suddenly meant something and everything he did was weighed down with expectations. He always failed to meet those.
"So if she say... left you. Right now. You'd be alright with that because it's just sex right?" Wilson's tone was smug, the way it got when he knew he was right and he was particularly enjoying nailing the fact home to him. He ignored him and exited his office. He ignored the way his ribs seemed two sizes too small when he allowed himself to think about what Wilson said. He ignored the small voice in his head, telling him that if he carried on with his denial, eventually she would want – need – more and he would fail her and she would leave. It wouldn't be that difficult. Three words would buy him time – buy him insurance. They were just words, right? He could say them. Could he mean them, though?
She was not paying attention. Under her desk, her hands were curled protectively around her abdomen, and her mind was wandering ahead of the present moment. A girl. House had been as close to elated as she had ever seen him when her OB told them the news. She liked to imagine that it wasn't just the prospect of a clinic free week, either, but the thought of big blue eyes and long dark hair – ballet shoes and Barbie dolls and a Daddy's girl – that had brought the expression to his face. She would be small like her, or tall like her father. A flair for the dramatic, she smiled at the thought of a little girl employing House's tactics to get her way. Maybe she would be slightly more conniving like her, or maybe some dangerous combination of the two.
Her phone rang and she was drawn out of her thoughts, turning to look at it. Picking it up, she couldn't quite keep the smile out of her voice as she spoke. "Lisa Cuddy."
"What do you think of Bambi for a name? Oh the possibilities are endless. We could go with Candy or Carmen or-"
"You don't get a say in the name." She spoke dryly, while secretly pleased to hear his voice.
"That seems a bit mean." She could hear the childish pout in his voice and she shrugged even though he couldn't see it.
"Are you going to push her out for me? Because if so, then you can name her."
"Don't I get to contribute anything?"
"Yes. House." She hung up on him quickly, biting her lip with laughter and turning to her computer. A quick Google search alter and she was staring at a list of girl's names, and wondering how in the hell you could name someone when you didn't even know what they would be like. What if it didn't suit her? Her phone rang again, and she picked it up, not even managing a greeting before he spoke again.
"Fine. Can I change my last name?"
"No."
"Can I help you pick? Or do you already have a name all lined up that you dreamt up while twelve and making Ken do naughty things to Barbie?" His tone was low and she laughed involuntarily, the chuckle escaping before she could stop it.
"No. I have some ... ideas. But nothing concrete." She spoke slowly. "Shouldn't you be working?"
"Shouldn't you? Yet there you sit, day dreaming and looking up names -"
"House! You had better be in your office!" She sat up straighter, glaring out through the glass windows in suspicion.
"Of course I am. I just know you that well." She could hear the dull sound of rubber hitting a solid surface in the background. His ball.
"Do some work."
"I don't have a patient."
"Really? I have about thirty down here-"
"I won. No clinic." His voice was triumphant and she rolled her eyes.
"Fine, but I do have work to do. So unless you're gonna help me with mine-"
"Tell me the idea. For the name." He pressed, his tone curious.
"No."
"Come on – I'll come down and do clinic."
"No you won't." She scoffed disbelievingly. His chuckle slid along the line hitting her ear in a rumble of low sound and static.
"You're right I won't. Fine. Go work. But I reserve the right to torture it out of you at home. And by torture I mean do that thing with the-"
"Greg!" She hissed, cutting him off and causing him to laugh again. "I have to go work. Goodbye." She hung up again, pulling files toward her and trying to ignore the way her neck was flushing with a prickling heat. Her eyes strayed to the name she had clicked on that was written in a ridiculous pink text. Don't they know green is the new pink? Abigail – Father's joy. Hebrew. She clicked the screen off, before trying to concentrate of the files in front of her. Her phone rang and she laughed to herself , but the name on the blinking call display wasn't familiar. "Lisa Cuddy."
"Lisa? Hi- it's Stacy." She felt a rush of cold against her skin as she stared down at the phone in horror. Something usually not present in a phone call from a friend. "Is this a bad time?"