A/N: Shout out to Clinic Duty for taking a peek at this and offering some great suggestions and reading the edits. And whoever "guest" is ...sending me comments begging for updates as if her life depended on it, this is for you. :)
I just love this chapter! Thanks to everyone reading this story!
Edited in 10/7: Some recent thinking about House, Stacy & Cuddy encouraged some edits in this chapter!
House sat at the piano, his fingers moving fluidly across the keys. Outside the storm raged, the rain poured down, thunder shook the windows. It had been like that for hours and showed no signs of letting up.
Sitting atop a pile of papers on the piano was a near-full bottle of scotch and a half-empty glass.
The music relaxed him and helped him sort out his thoughts, of Cuddy. She had inspired his choice of music for the evening. He'd begun with Liszt's Sonetto 123 del Petrarca, a blend of ethereal, delicate and graceful then gradually moved into Debussy's Pour le Piano Prelude, an urgent, adventurous, and exuberant composition.
He hadn't called Cuddy as he said he would but he knew she would understand he needed more time to think. He'd done a lot of that lately and always came to the same conclusion. He was in love. And it scared the hell out of him, because it was Cuddy and despite his words and actions to the contrary, she was the one for him. She consumed his dreams and fantasies, annoyed him and drove him crazy to the point of madness, and she made him feel more deeply than any other woman had ever made him feel...even Stacy.
He ran his fingers across the keys quickly, and then slowed the tempo.
Stacy.
She'd been feisty, beautiful and smart. She matched wits with him and was able to tolerate his moodiness. They'd hit it off immediately, had sex the night they met and on an impulse moved in together within days. They made each other laugh, the sex was great, and they got along. But they were more different than alike and he wondered at times how they even stayed together so long.
House was direct, often blunt to the point of insulting. People annoyed him and he enjoyed having fun in ways more suited for a child rather than an adult. He hated order, disliked most people, rebelled against authority, and was often emotionally unavailable. He was a loner and preferred that lifestyle. He didn't need friends or family to sustain him.
Stacy was direct but she knew how to soften a blow because unlike House, she cared about not hurting feelings. She was a rule-observer and required order and stability. She was a people-person with an outgoing personality. People were drawn to her and she was often the life of the party. She liked normal social conventions in a relationship. Stacy needed friendships and family and enjoyed socializing with friends and colleagues, acknowledging birthdays and anniversaries, going out to dinner and doing traditional "couple" things.
House knew it bothered Stacy that he hated parties and social events. He just wasn't into that sort of thing but he knew she was and so occasionally he acquiesced to appease her. Many times, he wound up insulting someone or embarrassing her and the night ended with an argument between them in the car on the way home. Eventually he just stopped attending group events with her and Stacy made excuses for him.
The only time he didn't seem to mind going out with others was when Wilson or Cuddy were involved. He wasn't expected to perform in socially acceptable ways which made him feel uncomfortable, he could just be himself. House was thankful Stacy got along with both of his friends. She'd bonded with Wilson immediately as they were both easygoing, compassionate people. She and Cuddy were both extremely driven and had hit it off as well though she'd never had any knowledge of Cuddy's history with House. House and Cuddy had preferred to keep it that way for even Wilson at that time had not known more, only that they'd crossed paths at Michigan. House had seen the hurt in Cuddy's eyes early on when he introduced the two women, but she'd extended a hand to Stacy in welcome. He'd been relieved because he hadn't wanted to lose her in his life, or to cause her pain. She was his oldest friend.
As House pounded out notes on the piano, he thought about when things had gone wrong with Stacy.
They had weathered their share of problems and managed to make it through them relatively unscathed until about a year before the infarction when things began to take a turn. In all their time together, they'd not sat down and had a serious discussion about their future together. What they had seemed to work or so House had thought. Stacy had been on birth control from the very beginning, citing her career was more important than family and she'd casually laughed off questions from family and friends about marriage. Midway through their relationship, he'd sensed a change in her. He began to pick up on comments she'd make to him and others that made him think she wanted something more. When he'd confronted her about it, she insisted it was all in his head.
But then she'd began trying to encourage subtle discussions with him about their future, what he wanted for himself, for them, and he'd deflected and tried to avoid the subject. He'd been content with the status quo, he didn't want more. Rather than allow his feelings on the matter to cause friction between them he found ways to deflect but that only caused more problems. Stacy would prod him and he'd get angry and his refusal to talk to her about it in turn made her angry. They fought more often though sometimes fights ended in angry sex, which often served as a distraction for a short time. But the conflicts went unresolved and things got worse. Eventually, they spent less time together by immersing themselves in work or other activities. House had started spending more time with Wilson, not returning home until he knew she was asleep. Other times he slept in his office.
Then the infarction happened and what little of their relationship had remained unraveled almost immediately. House was angry because he had trusted Stacy and she had betrayed his wishes. He'd blamed her for the pain and refused her attempts to care for him and console him, even her apologies. He refused her pity though she told him adamantly she was with him still out of love, not pity. He was angry at the world and especially at her. Her presence had been like salt in the wound and he'd let her know it often in the cruelest of terms. Add to that the problems they'd had before the infarction and finally it became too much. One day she told him she just couldn't take it anymore, that it was over.
He stilled his fingers on the piano as he recalled the day she'd moved out.
She had tears in her eyes as she told him she loved him but she couldn't be with him anymore, that things had been heading that way since before his infarction. House responded, telling her that he cared about her but that he wasn't going to change, that she'd known what kind of man he was when she moved in with him. She nodded knowing he was right. She told him she needed more than he could give her and told him she hoped someday he would find someone he could make it work with. Then they'd embraced and she'd kissed him on the lips and placed her hand on his cheek one last time before they parted. When she closed the door behind her, he'd taken a deep breath and leaned against it. As much as it hurt to say goodbye, he'd been convinced he'd done the right thing. He believed he was better off alone, that relationships only caused pain.
And then she came back.
He took a sip from his glass and plucked out a few discordant notes.
Stacy had moved on and married a man who gave her the emotional connection and traditional relationship she'd always wanted. And then he'd gotten sick and she'd turned to him for help. And then they'd kissed and made love again and it brought back all the old feelings. She'd told him he had been the one and he knew that she'd been serious. And so he pursued her, realizing he'd never completely gotten over her. She was ready to leave her husband, recovering from an illness that House had helped cure—but not before it had left the man crippled, like himself. House got scared. A lot was at stake. He spent many hours alone thinking about it and realized they could never recapture what they'd once had when they were happy. He couldn't go through the pain again and so he'd ended it.
Wilson had called him on it accusing him of doing it because he wanted to be miserable and alone. The truth was that he could not give Stacy what she wanted and needed; Mark could. He knew he would not change, in fact, he didn't want to change for her. That bothered him because he thought that if he loved her, he should've wanted to change. To him, that was a sign. Getting back together would surely have ended in regret, resentment and more pain for both of them. Also, their decision didn't just impact them, but Stacy's husband too. While there was no love lost between House and Mark Warner, he'd been in the guy's shoes and he just couldn't do it.
After she'd gone the second and final time, House was even more convinced he was better off alone. His darker side emerged and his world had become alcohol, Vicodin, the occasional bar fight and hooker to distract himself from pain. He closed himself off again, fearing more pain and betrayal of his trust.
Trust.
The tempo of the music picked up again when House thought about his refusal to trust others. It was something he'd rarely bestowed or gave freely. Because everybody lies.
It went as far back as his own mother, who had always shown him love but had lied to him about his biological father. The model Marine wife, she remained married to John House, even when he'd abused their son. She'd tried to make up for it by heaping on him copious declarations of love, praise and encouragement.
House loved his mother and knew she was from a time when women didn't just walk away from their marriages. But it didn't justify leaving him unprotected.
There was only one person he trusted implicitly. One person who had never left him unprotected.
Cuddy.
As his hands drifted effortlessly across the keys, the melody perked up, became brighter, more upbeat. Because that's what she did to him.
Cuddy knew things about him that no one else knew. She kept his secrets, those he confided to her after his infarction and the ones he'd shared back in college, when they were young and carefree and getting to know each other intimately. Though verbal communication had always been hard for him, Cuddy made it easier because she'd never been insistent or demanding that he talk about things. In turn, it had made it easier for him to open up and reveal little pieces of himself to her over the years. She'd seemed to enjoy learning more about him and in turn she had done the same. It had meant a great deal to him because he knew she'd been just as hesitant when it came to trust.
House knew if there was ever only one person in the entire world on his side it was Cuddy. When he'd needed a job, she'd hired him. After his infarction, she'd taken charge of his case, made sure he had the very best care, pushed him in his therapy, and ran interference for him when his parents arrived for awkward visits. When Stacy had left him, she'd consoled him. When he'd given up on therapy and paced his apartment not knowing what to do next, she'd pushed him to go back to work, knowing that it would distract him, even save him. But when just doing his job wasn't enough, she went further, creating an entire department for him complete with his own budget and fellows. And she had personally found him cases.
Cuddy was a formidable woman. She'd never lied to him, not when it mattered and she had always chosen the cold hard truth over sparing his feelings. She wasn't afraid to challenge him. She would go toe-to-toe with him, stand her ground, and protect her turf. When he yelled at her, she yelled back. When he pushed her, she pushed back. She would bend but never break. She was a worthy opponent in every sense, his equal, even if he'd never tell her that. And though he had never asked for it, she had proven her loyalty to him more than he deserved.
Only once had she faltered. When she'd chosen Vogler's one hundred million dollars over him. But she'd been under immense pressure from the governing body of the hospital and at odds with her desire to cure everyone who walked through the doors of her hospital.
When she'd finally admitted to herself that she was merely a pawn in Vogler's game, she'd changed course immediately. She'd dug in and stood her ground, on her principles and in keeping House.
He'd never held her initial decision against her. He knew why she'd done it. And though he often spoke to the contrary, he did respect her and her position at the hospital. He knew how hard she'd worked to get there. And while he hadn't wanted to lose his job, it would have been worse if she'd lost hers. House had never thanked her for what she'd done, but there were times he wished he had. She deserved that. But years of keeping her at arm's length had made it difficult for him to tell her.
Their relationship was almost like a tug of war. At times he pulled her toward him only to push her away if she got too close, and she did the same. He did it because he was afraid. He knew what it was like to be with her, to hold her, to love her. It was intense and emotional. He'd lost it once and it had hurt and so he shielded himself, and her, from any chance of that happening again. This left them in a decidedly weird place. They had been with others but in the end they were alone and it seemed all they had was each other, even if they didn't know how to define it. They were more than colleagues, more than friends, but less than lovers. They laughed, bantered, insulted, pranked, argued and traded sexual innuendos, but none of it was superficial or fleeting, it was deep.
House liked the dynamic he and Cuddy had and he was jealous when she went out on dates because he feared what would happen if she found it with someone else. It pained him to think someone else might make her smile and laugh the way he did. He feared someone else might challenge her as he did. He hated the thought of another man touching her, seeing her beautiful body naked, and making love to her. More than anything he didn't want her falling in love and marrying some man who would never truly appreciate her, not like he did.
He knew it was selfish but he couldn't help it—even if he didn't really have all that much to worry about. As beautiful, smart and sexy as Cuddy was, she couldn't sustain a romantic relationship. Whether it was her perfectionist tendencies or the fact that most men found her powerful personality and control issues intimidating, her dates never really went beyond a few. Cuddy always told him that "it just didn't work out," but he knew better. He knew her. Which is why even though he was glad no one else had captured her heart, he didn't want her to be lonely. And she was lonely, as lonely as him.
He knew she wanted it all, she pushed until she became driven to achieve professionally but she had felt the pressure and desire to define herself as a woman through traditional means like marriage and children. She wanted a husband but hadn't found a man worthy of a long-term relationship. She wanted a child but her attempts had been unsuccessful. She had been affected profoundly by both failures.
House had wanted to be the man to give her the child she dreamed of. The kid part scared the hell out of him, but he would have helped her if she'd asked him. His motives weren't entirely unselfish, though. The thought of her bearing another man's child, sperm donor or not, was almost more than he could bear. But a child of theirs…it would have bound them together for life.
Goddammit.
House banged on the keys and stopped playing. He stared at the half-empty glass of whiskey.
Cuddy. She was his one constant, the one good thing, the one bright light in his life. She was beautiful, intelligent, funny, passionate. He trusted her completely. She gave him hope. She made him want to be better. She was everything he wanted and needed. He knew a relationship with her could have fallout but he found himself not caring. He found himself wanting to act on his feelings, and for once take hold of that something good and forget about the pain and fear that had overrun his life.
Looking out the window, he noticed the rain had stopped. A break in the storm. He weighed his next move and realized there was no point; he'd already made his choice.
Wasting no more time, House pushed himself away from the piano, grabbed his cane and his keys and limped out the door.