It was a mistake. A huge mistake. Granted, House had let her take an extra three days after the latest Nicole Wallace nightmare to get ready, but it was still a mistake. Cuddy wasn't anywhere near ready. She should have called it off. But something in her wouldn't back down, wouldn't throw in the towel even when the odds clearly were not in her favor. And now she was going to pay for it, big time. Now she was going to have to face a second round of utter and complete humiliation.
It was just five minutes in a dark room. Five lousy minutes. How hard could that be? House would be there with her, as usual, providing a comforting voice of reassurance.
What could possibly go wrong?
Everything.
The light went off with a faint click of the switch. Instantly the atmosphere in room was beyond suffocating. The air was thick enough to choke on. Barely 30 seconds had passed before Cuddy began to gasp and wheezed out, "Turn the light on." It felt like she was underwater without an oxygen tank.
"We've barely started, boss," House said from somewhere in the dark. He sounded far away. Too far away.
"Turn the damn light on," she demanded.
"No."
"Goddammit, Greg…," she said, her voice hoarse and shaky. She was afraid to get off the bed for fear of falling into an endless abyss…if Nicole Wallace didn't drag her under first.
Sounding a bit puzzled, House said, "It's just a few minutes, Lisa--"
"Turn on the light."
She couldn't take it anymore and was crawling across the bed, blindly groping her way to the night table. Something fell to the floor with a rattle, the bottle of Vicodin; then something more solid and heavy landed with a crash. The alarm clock, it's numbers now uncovered and providing a soft glow. In her growing panic she barely noticed it. She reached for the lamp but was pushed away.
"The light stays off," House said firmly.
"No!"
"Lisa--"
"Please, for God's sake, just turn the fucking light on!"
There was something new in Cuddy's voice--terror. It filled the room and rang in House's ears. It was something he could not dismiss or ignore. She was scared out of her mind. He switched on the lamp.
Cuddy was white as salt, gulping down chunks of air, her chest rising and falling as if she had just finished a relay race. Afraid she was going to hyperventilate and pass out, he sat down beside, pulling her close. "It's okay, Lisa. Just breathe. Everything's fine…"
"It's not fine!" Her voice began to crack. "It is not fine! Nothing about this is fine!"
"You're fine," House said firmly.
"No, I'm not." The front of her tee-shirt was darkened with a triangle patch of sweat; strands of hair clung to her cheeks and neck.
"Yes, you are. Now just breathe and relax."
"I can't…"
"You can and you will. Now breathe."
He sat with her as her breathing returned to normal. Not once did she make eye contact. He left her side briefly to pick up the clock and Vicodin bottle. When he sat back down she still didn't look him in the eye.
"Talk to me, boss," he said.
"About what?"
"About anything," House replied, knowing that she was fighting back tears.
"I have nothing to say."
"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. But I do want you to look at me. Can you do that?"
She didn't move, so he carefully reached out and took hold of her chin, turning her around until she was facing him. Her eyes were ringed with red, her face blotchy and tear-streaked.
"This…," she began.
"Yes, Lisa?" House urged her on.
"This isn't working."
He frowned. "You're doing fine, it's just a little setback. Just give it some time--"
"How much time?" Cuddy broke in, sounding angry. "How much time is this going to take?"
"I don't know--"
"I know. Too long. It's going to take too long. I can't live like this anymore and I can't keep sleeping with the damn lights on, waking up screaming every other night and waking you up with me." She looked away. "I need some help, Greg. More help than you can give me."