Hi guys! I am so, so sorry for the delay again. Life has been so hectic recently! I'll try to update again before the end of the year, but it is not really likely. Tomorrow is my last week of class coming up before the winter holidays but aaaahhh, so many things left to do *cries*. So I wish you a merry Christmas, and an awesome new year!
Thank you for the feedback you left last time (special thanks to Ellen for the 100th review ;)). They keep me writing when I'm that tired. I love them :3
This chapter contains spoilers about "Fall From Grace."
I hope you'll enjoy this chapter! I tried to be a bit more optimistic and not have Cuddy crying again, but... Seems like I can't help. Sorry! It's still a bit less drama though. In my opinion. *blushes*
Chapter Twenty
She smiled, carefully folding the tee-shirt, and putting it down on the bed. Sometimes he would offer her 'normal' clothes instead of some kinky lingerie, and they were her favourites. Against all odds, House was very into gifts. Except that he was not the kind of man who would come home with a bouquet of red roses once a week – she did not want him to be that kind of man anyway; he was not boring. No, he would steal stuff from comatose patients or the nurses' counter and give it to her. As his boss, she should be mad, but how could she complain? Even if most of his presents were stolen, his sweet little kindnesses would brighten up her days.
Even when he would toss thongs on her desk, which he had dared to do several times.
He reached into the bag, his hand met a very soft fabric, and she saw him hesitate. Arlene had taken away most of their baby stuff, but pajamas and layettes were still there.
"We'll just put that in the closet," she said, pointing at the clothes, and removing a huge weight from his shoulders. Mary's clothes were something they were not ready to deal with at the moment. They grabbed a pile each and limped toward the closet. Cuddy put her clothes on top of House's, "Do you mind?"
"Like I had a choice."
She smirked and so did he. Opening the door, she grabbed a tee-shirt and placed it on a coat hanger.
"What if I just drop them?"
"Then you will have to pick them up and iron them because obviously they will be a mess, and then you will hang them neatly. One by one."
"How cruel," he commented. "I'll just wait until you're finished then."
"Good boy," she said, kissing his cheek chastely. As she was done a few minutes later, she moved her bag to leave it partially hidden beside the massive furniture. Then she made her way to the door, grabbing her crutch. "I'm gonna go play with Rachel."
"And I'm gonna take a nap," he responded, pulling the curtains to close them and submerging the two of them into darkness. She felt her throat tighten, remembering how she had needed a light on while sleeping trying to deal with the death of their child. He threaded his way under the covers. She drew closer to him and sat on the edge of the bed, watching him pat the pillow.
"I'll wake you up when dinner's ready," she told him. He rolled his eyes and she cut off his forthcoming protests, "You need to sleep. I'll cook, don't bother."
"God, woman! What did I do to deserve being poisoned?"
She gently hit his shoulder, "Shut up! I'm not that bad of a cook!"
He laughed, and hearing him she laughed as well. It seemed like their bad memories were far away from them at present. Her eyes caught his and he pulled at her sleeve. She willingly bent over him and pressed her lips on his. They kissed tenderly. Deepening the kiss, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, his hand caressing her hair.
"What would you like for dinner tonight?" she whispered once she had pulled away.
"Momma!" they heard from the bedroom next door.
"Sounds like the kid's getting impatient," he said. "Go. I'll eat anything." She rose and he added with a wink, "As long as it's not spinach, of course."
She smiled and left him alone, silently closing the door behind her.
Sleep would not come tonight. Cuddy knew it as she was not even able to keep her eyes closed for a minute without feeling a wave of anxiety surging through her. House was fast asleep, lying on his flank with his back turned to her. She reached out, her fingertips wandering along his spine through his tee-shirt. No reaction at all. She let her hand fall back on the mattress with a sigh. She was well aware it was silly to think it, but she felt rejected. He hadn't had dinner, since she hadn't been able to awake him back then. She had put Rachel in bed for the night, slipped on one of his tee-shirts and joined him. Since late afternoon, he had been sleeping. She rolled on her side and cuddled up against his frame, wrapping her arm around his waist. She tried to huddle against him as much as she could, but the rough texture of the pair of jeans he was wearing was anything but comfortable. Closing her eyes, she focused on his rhythmic breathing and slight snores, convinced it would reassure her and lull her into sleep, but it didn't help. She gulped, and realized she was more stressed than she thought. Of course, she was apprehensive about her appointment with Dr. Westhall, but that would not normally deprive her of slumber. Usually, she could manage to lock her stress behind doors. But that night, the doors were not resistant enough. She glanced at the clock, two a.m. She had been stewing over the appointment for four never-ending hours, and finally just gave up on the idea of sleeping tonight.
She hated this room. She had spent days and days in this bed, forced to rest in order to prevent a miscarriage, or premature labor, which, as a work-alcoholic and control freak, she had hated. She still did. It should have ended perfectly. She should have given birth. What could have possibly gone wrong?
Repressing a sob, she slipped out of the bed and tiptoed into the corridor. She stopped in front of Mary's room, her gaze lingering on the candy-shaped letters. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door very carefully, as if the doorknob was aflame and burning her palm, and entered the room.
She took a step and stopped, struck by the quiet of the room. Even though by entering the room she was plunged into darkness, she could discern the shapes of the furniture, which she and House had chosen with great care. The cradle that Cuddy had used for Rachel was settled in a corner of the room opposite a changing table, waiting for Mary, who would never come. Nearby a toy box was filled with plush toys, including the white teddy bear that House had given her in the hospital, confirming that Arlene had dropped by while she had been absent. In the center of the room, a green woollen rug matching the painting on the wall was covering the wooden floor.
It should have been perfect.
"I'm sorry," she whispered into the distance. Blinking to clear the blur off of her vision, she realized she was crying. Carefully, as if any move could shatter this fragile universe, she walked to the empty cradle, and stared at it for a while. She could not fathom why there was no baby tucked in the tiny sheets. Pursing her lips to keep her tears at bay, she switched on the mobile, the toys hung to it clinging together and letting out a melodious sound. Birds of light appeared on the ceiling, along with a dulcet song. After a few seconds of contemplation, she lay down on the carpet, resting on her back with her hands over her womb.
She had no idea how much time had passed when House pushed the door open and found her lying on the floor, silently crying her heart out. He lay next to her, both of them staring at the doves flying around on the ceiling, for what seemed to last an eternity.
"Why can't we be happy?" she asked all of the sudden. He slightly shook his head in ignorance, scared to admit he had no answer, but unable to see if she had seen his movement.
"I don't know," he replied sincerely, not even trying to contradict her. They were miserable, that was a fact. He peered at her for a moment, but her eyes would not leave the ceiling.
"Maybe she's up there. With the birds."
He brought a hand to her face, his thumb brushed her cheek, causing her to shift lightly and turn to him. "Stop crying," he whispered, wiping a tear off her moist cheek.
"I'd love to..." she was barely capable of finishing her sentence, her voice trailing off. He rolled onto his side and tenderly caressed her hair.
"We should go back to bed."
Cuddy sighed, "I want to stay here… with Mary."
"You're not gonna sleep on the rug," he objected.
"I can't sleep anyway."
He rose and held out his hand, leaving her no choice. She took it and stood, but did not go any further. He cast her an interrogating look.
"I can't leave," she said in a whisper barely audible. "I can't leave her."
"We need to, Cuddy." She didn't even notice he had spoken in the first-person plural. They both had to say farewell, yet she did not seem to realize she was not going through it alone.
"I know."
She let her gaze trail across the silent room, as if trying to imprint it into her memory before it disappeared.
House took a step with her hand in his, gently pulling at her arm. She followed him out, and he closed the door, whispering to her to come with him. Once they had reached their room, he let go of her fingers in order to get undressed and slip on pajama pants. He joined her sitting on the bed, his back resting against the headboard and his legs stretched out in front of him. Almost shyly, she huddled against him, but in spite of her effort to relax and think about something else, the situation was still uneasy. He grabbed her under her knees, bringing her legs to rest sideways across his. Then he drew the blanket over them as she nestled against his torso. He wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders and murmured, "Close your eyes. I'm here."
She did as she was told, burying her face in his neck. A few minutes passed by in a total silence until he felt that the tension in her muscles had vanished. He gently rubbed her upper arm, and rocked her like a child. She docilely let him. His need of affection was blatant, in the way he was embracing her, his arms linking around her as if she was all he had left. He pecked her temple, prodding her into talking to him.
"Can you switch on the light?" she asked quietly.
He did so. She blinked to accustom her eyes to the soft light. "I'm sick of crying over anything," she started. "I want to be strong."
"You've always been strong. Stronger than anyone I know."
She sighed.
"You never let go of anything. You never back down. You always give the best of yourself. But sometimes you just can't."
"And that's the problem." Her hand slid up from his stomach to his chest, toying with his small heap of greying hair.
"No, the problem is you're a perfectionist. You're not capable of admitting you can't reach perfection sometimes."
She let out another sigh, "I'm weak."
Then he felt a fresh tear in the crook of his neck, where she had pressed her face. He hugged her tighter, "It's alright, Cuddy. You have every right to be weak about this."
"You deserve so much better from me," she sobbed, barely listening to him. "And Rachel does too."
"Cuddy, look at me."
She obeyed and raised her head, but did not look him in the eye. His thumb under her chin gently drew her face closer to his, allowing their gazes to meet. "You'll be strong for Rachel," he said with conviction. "You can do it, Cuddy."
She nodded, not fully believing him. It seemed so hard to remain courageous in front of her daughter when everything around her was breaking down.
"Promise me," he demanded.
"I promise," she responded to his slight smile, craning her neck to place a kiss on his lips. "I want you to be proud of me."
He kissed her one more time before sinking down flat onto the mattress. Cuddy huddled a bit more in his arms. Then, feeling more confident, she reached out to turn off the light.
"Talk to me," she grumbled after a few minutes, sleep already winning over her.
"Well... I'll be taking Rachel to school tomorrow."
She nodded. A brief silence followed.
"Do you want to move?"
She immediately lifted her head, confused. "What? You mean, really?"
He nodded, "We have a lot of memories here, especially you. Since you're not comfortable at home anymore, I think it would be better to change the setting."
"It's not that I'm not comfortable," she protested. "It's just that I..."
She didn't really have an argument. She honestly could not say she enjoyed living here any longer. Every time she would step into a room, she was overwhelmed with strong memories, as if the house was saturated with bitterness and attempting to spit it out. With a resigned sigh, she dropped her head to his chest.
"You win. But it won't be very convenient for Rachel. I mean, she has her school, her friends, her habits, and..."
"We don't need to move away from this school district. Maybe we'll manage to get closer to her school."
Cuddy pretended to think about it for a moment, but her decision was already made. "Okay. We'll do that." She kissed his lips, sealing their agreement, and snuggled closer to him, her head nestled in his neck and one of her legs entangled with his, his arms firmly draped around her frame.
"You know we have my apartment while we search for a new place."
She shook her head, "No, that's definitely not convenient for Rachel. She needs her own room. Furthermore, we…" she cut herself off.
"We?"
"Nothing."
"Oh come on!"
She sighed. His curiosity was peaked. With House, when she started a sentence, she had to end it.
"You can tell me anything," he insisted. She considered it. He would mock her sometimes, but not in such a serious moment. Being afraid of his judgment just proved how much confidence she had lost.
"Your apartment is not really set up for living as a family, House. It's more for our sweet escapes..."
He frowned, "That's what you were afraid of telling me?"
"I sound like a lousy mom, don't I?" she asked. "I'd rather let my daughter live in a place I dislike rather than in your apartment because I think of it as just for us."
"You are certainly not a lousy mom," he reassured her. "Don't even think that. Rachel doesn't mind living here, right? Why should it bother her to live here a little longer?"
She looked up at him, and smiled, "You're right."
"I'm always right!"
"Watch out," she warned him. "Don't get too cocky."
He laughed. The movement of his chest rocked her for a few seconds, and surprisingly, brought her even more comfort than his words did. Slowly but surely, she sailed into slumber.
"You may want to see this," he says as he pushes open her office door, making her jump. With the blinds closed, she did not see him coming. He hands her a few papers. It doesn't take her more than three seconds to notice Dominika's name and stop reading.
"What the hell is this?"
"Come on, just read it!" he insists.
"I'm busy. House, what is this?"
"Oh, well, nothing. I'm just divorced," he says, leaving her speechless.
"Divorced," she repeats, completely astonished.
"Yeah. She got her green card, so we got divorced," he shrugs.
She stares at him with complete surprise in her eyes.
"Wait, you do remember I was married, right?" he adds.
"Yes, I do remember," she sighs. He takes a seat in front of her desk, stretching out his legs on the table. Her palm hitting his calves forces him to remove them. "You could have told me you were getting divorced."
He shrugs once again, "That's none of your business." He sees her clenching her jaw. "Seriously, why would you care about my divorce?"
"Because it is my business since you married the bitch to get back at me!" she yells, losing her temper.
"Well I guess it worked since you were on my doorway the morning after."
"Please, just shut up and leave," she cuts him off coldly. "I really don't have time to deal with your bullshit."
He stares at her lowering her gaze to her laptop, pretending to focus on her work to hide the tears rushing up to her eyes.
"I'll see you tonight then." He stands up and walks out of the office. She waits and once she is sure he is away, she throws her fist up in the air with a victorious smile, a bit spoiled by her tears.
While having dinner, he acts like nothing actually happened, but Cuddy can see something is worrying him. She asks him about it while they wash the dishes, and he just deflects.
Once they are in bed, she fondles him with all her heart, her rancour already forgotten. He responds to her embrace, but seems focused on something else. She insists, her body dancing lasciviously on his, her mouth devouring his with teasing kisses, but there is no passion. She is just about to give up and deal with her frustration when he suddenly flips them over, pinning her onto the mattress with her arms above her head, his hands encircling her frail wrists firmly.
"House," she lets out in a breath, caught off guard. He locks eyes with her, his deep gaze never letting go of hers.
"Marry me."
She can't help but chuckle nervously, "What? Are you serious?"
He breaks eye-contact and collapses by her side, his back turned to her.
"Goodnight," he grumbles.
Realizing she totally screwed up, she rolls onto her side and snuggles against his back.
"Hey. I'm sorry. You just asked that out of the blue..." No reaction. "And I don't want to marry you."
He turns around, now face to face with Cuddy, intrigued. "Why? Your mother would definitely be pleased."
"See, that's why! You don't want to marry me because you love me; you want to marry me because it's convenient."
He peers at her, as if she's a puzzle. "I don't want to marry you because it's convenient! What do you think I got divorced for? If I stayed married to Dominika for the rest of my life I wouldn't have to pay the damn alimony!"
Her eyes mist up with tears. Wanting to comfort her, he caresses her cheek and slips his fingers in her hair. All of the sudden, she bursts out, "I couldn't take it anymore, House! You were fucking all those whores, so when you decided to invite me to your wedding with that... that... that slut, I..."
He embraces her tightly as she clings to him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." he whispers, laying soft kisses onto the crown of her head. "I never meant to hurt you, I..." He sighs. He knows he needs to open up to her if he wants to get rid of this misunderstanding between them forever. "I didn't do it to get back at you. I wasn't feeling angry at all, I was so lost when you broke up with me that I just needed somebody to be with me."
She cries even harder, remembering what led to all this. Her breaking up with him, their difficulties trying to get over each other, but in the end, never admitting it because they were simply drawn to each other. There was no one else, for the either of them.
"But you barely knew her," she says.
"She gave incredible massages. I couldn't let so skilled a masseuse get thrown out of American soil." He manages to tear a chuckle out of her mouth, but once the laughter has passed, he feels her tears soaking his shoulder again. "Hey. Come on," he soothes her in a whisper. "It's over. It's all over." She nods and holds him tighter, as if trying to fathom he is with her. "You still won't marry me?" he asks after a peaceful silence.
"No," she refuses with a giggle. "It doesn't sound like us. We're not conventional." He arches his eyebrows, not convinced. "A marriage is basically belonging to someone. We don't need to get married and wear a ring to know it, do we?"
"I think I get your point," he says, pecking her nose.
She purrs, cuddling up in his embrace, "You're mine."
His grip around her shoulders turns possessive, tightly pressing her body to his. She lifts her gaze and their eyes meet in the half-light, full of love, passion, devotion. They remain voiceless for a moment, clearly captivated by each other. No, they don't need to get married. The diagnostician's hand caresses her ribs, from her breast to her swollen belly and lingers there, its roundness cupped in his palm. Her hand joins his, allowing their fingers to intertwine. She lets out a contented sigh as his lips swoop down on hers. He gently flips her on her back and, her body clutched to his, he makes love to her.
After she has fallen asleep in the crook of his arm, he gets lost in his thoughts. Most of the marriages of people close to him didn't turn out that well. His own parents. Taub and Rachel. Chase and Cameron. Wilson and his countless wives. He does not want to end like them. He looks down at Cuddy and thinks that he loves her too much for her to be his wife.
TBC...