Cuddy lay on the couch drinking chocolate milk, her daughter sipping companionably beside her. Finding Nemo was blaring out of the TV for the second time that week and Cuddy's eyes were glazing over, as violent flashbacks crowded her brain. As Rachel giggled at the movie, Cuddy squeezed her eyes shut as tight as possible and took deep breaths, trying to get the image of McHenry sneering out of her head.
"Momma!" Rachel chastised. "You're missing it!"
"Am I?" Cuddy muttered blearily, scrubbing a hand across her forehead. She stared at her sweet daughter, using the image of innocence to block the one of evil.
"Mhmm. There's the big shark," Rachel told her sombrely. As the grinning Great White came into view, Rachel squealed - as she did every time she watched this movie - and buried her head into Cuddy's chest.
"Ooh," Cuddy winced, the flash of pain shooting through her. "Rachel," she wavered, "be careful." But Rachel wasn't listening to her mother, she was too bust revelling in her mother's mere presence. As Cuddy's eyes filled with tears, she tried in vain to disentangle the girl from her without losing her temper. It wasn't working. "Rachel," Cuddy growled.
Rachel stopped immediately. That was not a tone her mother had ever used. Rachel gingerly moved off Cuddy. "Sorry."
"Just... watch the movie, sweetie."
Cuddy lay against the cushions, not realising that Rachel was shrinking away from her. She didn't want to scare her own daughter, Rachel had been the brightest light while she'd been stuck down there, the thoughts of her wonderful, sweet, beautiful daughter keeping her strength alive and kicking.
In her defence, she did have a lot on her mind. It had been one week since her release from the hospital and today, Wilson was coming over. House had suggested it. He'd said that Wilson was driving himself mad with worry and was going crazy. Maybe it would do them both some good to see each other.
Cuddy was dreading it. All through her last shrink appointment she'd willed herself to gather the courage to say something. But the lump in the back of her throat had held strong as her and Foster had just chatted mindlessly, building a rapport. Just the thought of the well meaning Oncologist made her heart start to race.
Another person, another man, with his strong shoulders and tall stature and penis would be in her home. She knew that House had promised he'd be there and she was counting on it. It wasn't that she didn't trust Wilson, because of course she did. She just didn't know if she was ready to make nice just yet.
His visit was scheduled for one, so she only had three hours before he arrived. She wasn't worried about her appearance, obviously. Her hair was pulled back by a thin elastic, her face was still a little swollen and covered in bruises, she was hiding her bloodied and bandaged limbs under a baggy Michigan sweatshirt and shapeless grey sweatpants and she could barely walk. The last thing she cared about was aesthetics.
No, it was just that the moment was looming closer and she was terrified. She'd wanted to be ready, if not for House's sake. She could see how unsettling it was for him to be near her - he was obviously hurting but in typical House manner was unable to show it - and she wanted to make some progress for him, to show him the hope.
She leaned over and kissed her daughter's forehead before traipsing off to her room to lie down. There was no rush, no pressure, no one telling her to pull it together, to get back to work. Everyone was shell-shocked that something this... brutal had happened to someone they knew. It was like she was surrounded by a ten foot shield.
Just as her head hit the pillow her mother came in. "Come on sweetie," Evelyn cooed. "You've already had a lie down this morning."
"So what? I'm not two. I can have as many lie downs as a want," Cuddy grumbled, resisting the urge to slap her mother and run.
"Honey, I'm just saying - "
"What? That I'm not getting better fast enough?"
"No, but that maybe there is a little bit more you could be doing - "
"It's been ten days," Cuddy snarled. "Two weeks ago I was chained in a basement begging for my life. Give me some processing time."
Evelyn sat on the bed. "I'm just saying, when your sister had her knee surgery she was up and about almost immediately. Getting active, getting it better. Being as proactive as possible with her recovery. She didn't just lie down and feel sorry for herself." Evelyn stopped. "That came out wrong," she started, but Cuddy was already fuming.
"Julia had a tendon reattached! She had her physio and then she was better. I spent eight weeks with that monster, and you're telling me that I'm feeling sorry for myself?" Cuddy was incensed, lashing out. She'd lost all patience with her mother and was looking for blood. She had to get rid of some of this rage.
"Do you even love me?" Cuddy continued. "'Cause since I was rescued all you've done is make things difficult! You make me feel guilty, and bad, and ashamed. Are those things you want me to feel, of your doing? Don't you think that I feel like enough crap already? Are you trying to destroy me?" She broke off, panting, too enraged for tears.
Evelyn sat on the bed, subdued. "Lisa, don't be irrational. You know I love you, and - "
"But... do you really care that this happened? Because when I think about if anyone did this to Rachel... I feel like I'm going to throw up. Like, physical pain at that thought. But with you, you don't have to imagine it. You have it, you have me, your daughter, who spent two months being beaten, broken and raped everyday. And all you can do is belittle me. You can't even try to understand, to comfort me, to make me feel like... there is something better than this."
"Every time I think about what he did to you, I feel sick. I hate that man, and I hate that you're hurting. But... You may have changed. I haven't. This is the only mom I know how to be. I will try anything for you, Lisa, but it's not instinctive. Help me help you," she pleaded.
"I don't have the energy to help you. I don't have the energy to be me! Stop asking me to help you and figure it out! Is that so much to ask?" Cuddy cried. She didn't want to spend these days settling disputes and fighting. She needed love, not war, but she didn't have the energy to make either. "Get out," Cuddy whispered. "I need to calm down before Wilson gets here."
Evelyn left, and didn't let herself cry and she was safely hidden in the guest. It was only then she let herself sob, when she was sure that no one - especially her daughter - could hear her.
Wilson stood at the threshold to House and Cuddy's place, shifting nervously from foot to foot.
He had never been more terrified than in this moment.
He rang the doorbell.
It took a few minutes, but finally Evelyn opened the door. Her eyes were red-rimmed and she was clutching a tissue. Wilson could see Rachel curled up in a blanket on the couch, eyes half closed as the opening credits of that fish film rolled.
"She's in her room," Evelyn sniffed, the scene reminiscent of a teenager turning up at her girl's house and needing the all clear from her mom. Wilson felt oddly uncomfortable. Evelyn kept pottering, until she whipped round to face him. "Are you going or what?" She barked.
"Yes," Wilson stammered, almost adding a 'ma'am' to the end.
He left the room and practically sprinted down the hallway. He slowed in front of her door. As though it was his last move, he reluctantly knocked on the door. "Come in," he heard her call out, and he realised that it as now or never. He opened the door.
The sight that met him was not one he was prepared for. He knew from House that she'd been beaten and that she didn't look great, but the bruises clouding her beautiful face were far more prominent that he'd ever imagined and the clear handprints around her neck made him uneasy.
"Don't start crying," she warned, sitting up. "I've had enough tears."
"I won't," he offered, jumping to give her anything she asked for. He'd come empty handed - not that that was a problem - as he didn't know what to bring. Flowers seemed inappropriate; they were more for congratulations. As he looked at her face, he knew with certainty that there was nothing worth celebrating.
She was sitting on the bed and Wilson was unsure of whether he could sit with her. He gestured down, "can I?"
She stiffened. "Sure," she said tightly, but Wilson sensed the panic.
"Maybe I could sit over here," he alternated, moving over to the chaise in the corner of the room. Cuddy smiled gratefully. When both were seated, Wilson looked up at his friend. "How... are you?" He asked lamely.
"Good," she smiled. "Fine."
It was unbearably awkward. Wilson could feel her panic radiating out from her. "Is House here?" She asked. "Because... he said he'd be back."
"I think his patient got worse, so he's still diagnosing," Wilson told her. "But he'll come home soon." There was a pause. "Lisa, I'm so glad you're okay. I was terrified the whole time, I can't imagine what you went through. If you need me, for anything, just ask. I'm here for you."
"Thank you," Cuddy whispered. "Means a lot. That you're offering, that you're here. I know that you've been worried, but I'm fine. Or I will be. You don't need to panic or think I'm never going to be alright. Everything's going to be fine," she emphasised, but she seemed to be convincing herself more than him.
"We've got a temp at the hospital," Wilson filled her in. "She's good, but nothing on you. Your job's waiting when you want it."
Cuddy's eyes filled with tears. Wilson's eyes widened. "Oh, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," he wanted to move over and comfort her but was hesitant. "I shouldn't have mentioned work, I wasn't thinking..."
"No," she scoffed. "I just don't care. I want to, that hospital is a huge part of my life, but... I just don't. Everything's different." She sniffed. "I want House. Where is he?"
"I can call him," Wilson offered.
"He said he'd be here," she said sadly.
Wilson realised that she felt betrayed. That House was one of the few people she trusted and he hadn't kept a promise. House had told him how nervous she was about seeing him and that part of the reason she'd agreed was because House had said he'd be there. Wilson was suddenly mad at his friend. How could he not be here for her?
"I'm sure he wants to be here," Wilson tried, but he didn't any drive.
"No." She said sadly, but with an ounce of strength. A glimpse of the Cuddy he'd known was shining through. "It's okay, I'm doing great. I don't need him, or any man to help me and make me better. I can do it fine on my own."
"You won't have to, because I'm here, and House is here, and everyone else. Everyone is on your side." He kissed his hand and pressed it gently to a clear spot on her cheek. "You look exhausted. I'll go."
"Thank you," she said hurriedly, squeezing his hand. "For being here. Maybe... in a few days... you could come back?"
"I'd like that," he smiled companionably.
"See you," Cuddy called out as he exited her room, feeling a rush of love for the man. There were still all the amazing people in her life as before, and they were all there for her. She really did feel like she had some strength not only in her, but behind her also.
House closed the door to their house quietly, hoping not to wake Rachel, who was sleeping on the couch. He picked up the little girl in her swaddle of blankets and carried her gently to her bed. After placing her on the covers - her blanket cocoon would be warm enough - he limped out as slyly as possible, shutting the door with a little click.
He turned slowly round and jumped back as he was met with Cuddy, a murderous look on her face.
"Where the hell were you?" She snarled.
he looked at his feet, away from her eyes. "Sorry. My patient - "
"Do you think I give a flying fuck about your patient? Take care of me. Cure me," she pleaded. "You promised."
"I'm sorry," he said sincerely.
"Sorry? I didn't want to see him, I saw him because you said it would do us both some good. I was scared, and you..." She broke off, eyes welling up. "You promised me. I don't have time for you to break promises, I don't have the willpower to fight you to make you look after me. If you can't do it without prompting..."
He saw where this was going. "No, no, I am so sorry I wasn't there. I... couldn't save you. I could save that man. If I came home I would sit with you and watch you cry and feel bad. But there's now a family that doesn't have to grieve. I may not be able to help you, but I could help them." He told her honestly. She stalked off to the kitchen without a word, and he followed her. "Cuddy?"
He was met with fury. "Do you think I'm past saving?" She fumed. "That there's no hope? What kind of... of..." She gritted her teeth, her eyes on fire, and grabbed the closest thing to her - a glass - and threw it with force at the wall.
They both watched it smash and the shattered fragments fly across the room. House turned his shocked gaze back to Cuddy who was staring at the mark it had created on the wall, mouth slightly agape. She whipped back round to him, ready for the next round. "Is your patient - who's name I know you can't tell me - more important than me? Are you tired of me? That I'm not okay, that I can't already be with you like I used to?" She stared him down. "That I can't fuck you like I used to?"
"No!" He countered, shouting. "Don't be a moron. You are creating these thoughts and trying to make me the bad guy. I did not hurt you. I will not hurt you. All I am trying to do is be here. And I'm not saying that this is about me or that I feel anything like you, but... it's painful for me too. To see you, and to not be able to help. I don't care about sex. I care about you." Her arms were folded over her chest and she wasn't watching him.
Still without turning toward him, apparently ignoring his words. She went to the kitchen cabinet and pulled out a stack of dinner plates. Then she picked one up and threw it as hard as she could against the wall.
House's eyes widened as the plate smashed, but he said nothing. He watched as she picked up the next one and let it follow the first. The shards flew across the kitchen. She'd thrown it with such force that some pieces landed next to his feet. "Cuddy..." He warned.
"Shut up or I will throw the next one at you," she hissed and kept going.
After she finished the first stack House saw the tears rolling down her face. She stood for a moment, surrounded by the broken plates. House was about to get up and go to her when she grabbed the other glasses out of the cupboard and started flinging them against the wall with the same force as before.
Her sobs increased to the point of hysteria as she systematically smashed every piece of crockery in the kitchen. "I'm so angry," she kept saying, whispering, screaming, hissing. The tears rolled down her cheeks. House watched, screaming inside his own head, as she poured every ounce of strength and emotion into smashing all the pieces.
As she smashed the last glass her hands were cut and bleeding, as were her feet from throwing herself around the kitchen. House watched her fall to her knees in the middle of the destruction, heaving her shoulders forward and howling. He leapt out and pulled her into him, catching her as she fell.
"Let go of me!" She fought, pushing against him.
"Stop struggling," he soothed. "I've got you."
She took a long breath and House felt her melt into him, clutching his body to her. It was the first time since she'd been home that he'd been properly able to hold her. His eyes burned as she buried her face into his chest, her slender hands fisting his shirt and dripping blood. From their place in the middle of the floor House could see the carnage.
He wanted to take away her suffering. He gently got up of the floor, still cradling her to his chest as a father would a child. She was crying and howling, oblivious to the motion. "It didn't work," she kept whispering, "I feel the same."
He placed her on their bed and got up next to her, letting her bury herself in him. He wrapped his arms as tight as they could go without hurting around her and he stroked her hair, and kissed her forehead, and let her put everything on him. He wanted to absorb her suffering.
She didn't run out of steam until a few hours later. It took him a moment to realise that the hiccuping sobs had stopped and she was sleeping against, with the features of an innocent child about her. He tucked her head under his and held her close. No matter what it took, she would know that she was safe.