Disclaimer – We do not own House M.D. It all belongs to David Shore and Fox.
~Chapter 34~
16 East 98th Street, Carnegie Hill, New York City, 07:53PM
With determined ferocity Lisa Cuddy double parked her friend's Volvo in front of a Manhattan post-war style building and quickly exited it, mindful of her long dress. Within five or six steps she found herself staring at a closed door, trying to figure out how to get in without randomly buzzing the tenants. To her salvation, a couple minutes later, an old lady came out with her Cocker Spaniel and Cuddy sneaked in, resolved to search just about every floor if she had to.
"Ma'm, wait! Where are you going?" A man in his late sixties, with a perfectly ironed maroon pants and a white shirt stopped her politely. He beamed with professionalism and old-school manners, "You can't go in unannounced."
"Oh. I am sorry," Cuddy jumped in surprise and looked around, deducing with her senses where the voice had come from. Then she noticed the doorman and instantly came up with a cunning plan in order to prevent an alarming situation. "I normally don't do this but I have to ask you for two huge favors," she said, quickly opening her purse.
"What kind of favors?" The old man cocked his eyebrow, intrigued by her behavior and her stunning beauty. He wasn't accustomed to gorgeous, demanding women strolling in his apartment building like that.
"OK. First you have to tell me if Gregory House lives in this building and has he left yet?" Cuddy replied, refusing to budge an inch. If her plan was to work she needed some information first.
"And why should I do that?" The doorman clearly decided to play her game. There was nothing wrong in spicing up his boring Friday night.
Without unnecessary stalling, Cuddy fished for a hundred dollar bill in her purse and mischievously added, bringing forth her best smile. "Because I will make it worthwhile if you do."
The man's eyes sparked in an instant and he delivered, without hesitation sensing that this woman was all about business. "Yes, he lives here. And no, he hasn't left yet."
"Thank you. First favor, could you skip the announcing part and tell me which apartment he is in? Second, and I would really appreciate it, could you help me find a parking space because I double parked in front of your building and it will be minutes before the car is towed away?" Cuddy chirped as she handed him the bill, dangling her car keys in the other hand.
"I hope Dr. House is glad to see you because I'd really like to keep my job." The man said with a smile, taking the keys from her.
"He better be." Cuddy returned the smile and fluttered her eyelashes.
"Knock him down, ma'm. Apartment 9F, the elevator is to the right. The keys will be here, with me. I am here until 8:00am tomorrow morning," he said, hoping in all honesty that she could work her charm on the grumpy doctor as she did with him.
"Thank you." Cuddy responded, already turning her back on the older man, grabbing the dress by the sides and running towards the elevator.
Cuddy stepped into the small elevator, trying to calm the butterflies down in her stomach as she pressed the button 9. The ride was painfully slow yet before she knew it she was standing in front of 9F. A familiar sound welcomed her; House was playing his guitar. She could hear him humming to the melody, preparing to sing and there was nothing more in the world she wanted but to hear him. Her heart decided for her and she gently pressed her ear against his door to hear the lyrics.
Bury all your secrets in my skin. Come away with innocence, and leave me with my sins.
The air around me still feels like a cage and love is just a camouflage for what resembles rage again.
She scooted closer to his door determined to absorb every single word that crossed his lips; she missed his voice terribly for the last four months and now, when he was singing his heart out, it made her ache even more. He did love her but the barricades within prevented him from admitting it. This was enough for her, for now.
So if you love me, let me go and run away before I know.
My heart is just too dark to care, I can't destroy what isn't there.
He was singing this song for her, there was no doubt about it anymore. As if somehow he knew she was standing in front of his door. He desperately wanted to run away from her, from their life, from their love. Why? She couldn't fathom the answer to that question as the lyrics made her shiver in anticipation.
Deliver me into my fate, if I'm alone I cannot hate
I don't deserve to have you…
Ooh, my smile was taken long ago, if I can change I hope I never know.
He was already a changed man, she understood it now. He allowed himself to love and to hurt in return yet for some inexplicable reason he believed he hadn't deserved her. Was that the rationale behind his decision to run away? Truths used to be a lot simpler, she told herself trying to stop the stubborn tears from falling.
I still press your picture to my lips and cherish it in parts of me that savor every kiss.
I couldn't face a life without your light but all of that was ripped apart, when you refused to fight.
Her picture; her black and white portrait that went missing from her desk. It all made sense now. He took it with him, the same way he took her heart out and ran away with it into the darkness. The idea of Gregory House stealing her picture just to have a memory of her made her smile. He knew he was going to miss her and she suddenly dared to hope; big, unimaginable hopes. If she had refused to fight then, she was surely ready to fight now.
So save your breath, I will not hear. I think I made it very clear.
You couldn't hate enough to love. Is that supposed to be enough?
Once again, her insides contracted in a hurried pace much the same way as her breathing increased in momentum. The love of her life was on the other side of that door and she couldn't decide whether she was happy or sad. Gregory House never made that an easy choice; he was a complicated man to the last fiber in his body.
I only wish you weren't my friend. Then I could hurt you in the end.
I never claimed to be a Saint...
Ooh, my own was banished long ago, it took the death of hope to let you go.
She wanted to scream 'what hope, House' as his voice vibrated inside of her, rendering her speechless, motionless. He was hoping, maybe even more than her, and yet they managed to do nothing about it, except to hurt each other and tear everything apart, almost irreparably.
Then she heard his cell phone ringing and his dismissive voice, seconds after. He had no patience with whoever was on the other line. It brought her back from bittersweet reverie and she quickly mustered the courage and brought her small shaky fingers to his door. She finally did it; she knocked on the wooden panel of truth, awaiting her destiny.
Cuddy looked around her, extremely anxious, as his cane-assisted steps thudded in her ears. Her heart was racing, creating a lump in her throat, and her palms were sweaty and itching as she contemplated their meeting. Was it better to know the truth or live her life in oblivion?, she asked herself imagining his face and his beautiful blue eyes. The truth was just a swinging door away from her.
Lifting his heavy gaze, as he opened the door, he saw her. She was like an ethereal vision in black satin. There she stood, her skin glowing like shimmer; her eyes large and lustrous and her curls, which she apparently combed with her fingers just seconds ago, like the proverbial Pablo Neruda trying to envelop the moon. House stood rooted to the spot drinking her body with his eyes, inhaling her intoxicating scent. Was she really standing in front of his door or was she a haunting product of his deranged imagination?, he asked himself blinking nervously. One thing was certain; someone somewhere heard his muffled prayers, rendering them true. It seemed to him that a nymph from the high heavens had descended on the earth to feast his eyes and only his eyes.
He made a step closer to her, looking deep inside her eyes; beyond them, almost inside her soul. A light smile of shock and surprise hovered on her lips. He knew then that she cared for him but being House meant pushing limits and drawing claws, in resistance. Instead of a warm welcome, he spewed a verbal sarcasm.
"You should have let me finish the song before knocking. The last part really suits you." House said pretending not to be surprised and overwhelmed by her presence. Hiding his true feelings was his invaluable and timeless talent.
"Good to see you too, House." Cuddy wasn't surprised by his cold welcome; she expected it when she had decided to fight for him. Breaking his steel-clad walls would be her greatest challenge. She cocked her head and asked provocatively, "What does it say, the last part?"
"Wow!" House exhaled quickly, masking his excitement with fake surprise. "Do you want me to recite it verse by verse, or you just want the general idea?"
"Surprise me," she said playfully, accepting his game.
House gladly recited the last few lines, almost like serenading her with a poem; however he particularly accentuated the lines that he knew would stir a great dose of guilt in her:
…So break yourself against my stones, and spit your pity in my soul, you never needed any help, you sold me out to save yourself…
Before she could protest, he added coldly, "And I don't want you to tell me or do anything, except to get the hell out of here and let me take my plane." He could not stand her pity.
"Yeah? Remind me, since when am I taking orders from you?" Cuddy retorted, pulling the pashmina tighter around her and crossing her arms. Then, remembering why she came in the first place, she fired without letting him take cover. "I managed to shorten a 2-hour drive to 1 hour and 30 minutes on a Friday night, risking my life to get here just to stop you from doing this idiocy. So, now you are listening to me whether you want it or not."
House placed his left hand on the doorframe and slightly leaned against it, taking a better view of her enchanting figure. Her scent had already hypnotized him. "I have no idea which disturbed reasons compelled you to break a bunch of traffic laws to come here and screw with my trip but me asking you, surely wasn't not one of them."
"If you want to hide in Africa and end your already miserable life while pretending to be the great Bono Vox, be my guest, but you are listening to me first." Cuddy was determined to get him out of his shell, even for a brief second, just enough to poke a stick inside and make him open up.
"Apparently, I don't have a choice, do I?" House ironically asked, sounding very predictable to himself. She must have read me like an open book, he thought while refusing to take his gaze off of her. Four months without her presence was a pure torture.
His statement infuriated her although she had seen it coming. Angrily, Cuddy pointed out, "You have the same choice you gave me almost four months ago, House. And now you use this song to accuse me of running away?"
"Wasn't that what you wanted? Wait. Did I hallucinate the part where you slapped me and threw me out of your hospital?" he asked, almost feeling the sting of her fingers on his cheek. "I don't remember taking enough Vicodin for that."
He could see her blood boiling under her skin but she refused to budge and that amazed him even more. The old Cuddy was back and that brought him a lot of pleasure. Her next sentence, however, brought him stumbling down in cold sweat. "You insulted me by using my ... our dead son's name, and you expected me to do what? To bow my head and cry?" Cuddy reminded him of that afternoon; the afternoon he had tried to forget ever since. "I thought you knew me better than that, if I had been armed I would have shot you, House."
Refusing to show her how much he hurt himself by hurting her, House quickly deflected. After all it was the skill he mastered to perfection. "What's the point of bringing this up anyway?"
"I didn't need any help? I sold you out to save myself?" Cuddy had come this far and she refused to let go. If fighting meant explaining the meaning of each uttered word, she was ready for an all-night hallway soliloquy. "Don't project your shortcomings on me, House. I did need your help but you just were not the man enough to give it. You didn't have the guts to come to my office and do what I'm doing right now."
"And what on earth makes you think I need your help?" He quickly hid behind his deflecting skills, again. She was right and he wasn't ready, yet, to acknowledge it.
"The fact that you didn't let me speak to myself in the hallway and that your cab driver has been honking outside for the last 10 min. The fact that you are giving up one thing that matters the most to you, your career, just to run away from me. The fact that you were playing a song that has clearly been inspired by us. The fact that you stole my photo." She raised her eyebrow as if asking his permission to proceed with her valid arguments, asking him if he needed more proof.
"But you didn't know any of this when you left Princeton, except for my trip." There was no way he was going to admit stealing her photo. Not even if she subjected him to a medieval-style torture.
"Shit, Greg, is that what you want to hear, despite you clearly reciting it minutes ago?" Cuddy added in a very pissy voice, piercing him with her glowing eyes. "I'll say it then, I still care. I never stopped caring. And I couldn't let you go without knowing that. I had to make it harder for you to screw up your life."
"Why?" The three-letter word was the only sound House managed to push past his lips. For the first time he was truly and utterly speechless. A woman disarmed him, rendering him verbally impotent.
"You hate humanity. What's the point in being a humanitarian, then?" She asked convincingly, knowing in advance that he would not answer her question.
"Why do you care?"
"You are running away."
"I can't run. Thanks to you." He pointed to his leg, extracting the guilt from her like venom.
"Don't you dare…" She raised her index finger, almost threatening him. By God, he was not going to suck her into the guilt vortex again.
"I think I just did. Are you planning to stand in the hallway all evening?" House asked unexpectedly. Now it was her turn to be speechless. She opened her eyes wider and stared at him, like he had just grown a pair of horns.
"I still have manners, Dr. Cuddy. Don't just stand there, come in. The neighbors must be enjoying the show already, and one more round of this conversation and I'll have to charge for the spectacle. You know, their pay-per-view expired." For the first time since she had miraculously appeared that evening he smiled. Even if it was to himself, he smiled.
"You never had manners, House. And I will come in only if give me your word that you are not leaving." Cuddy verbalized her demands very loudly on purpose, so every tenant in that building could hear her clearly.
"Oh, come on in, woman." House gently tugged her by her arm, sending a set of delicate chills down their spines. Then he quickly peeked down the hallway to see if someone had been listening. "If I decide to stay in the mainland USA I'll probably have to find another place to live after that performance of yours. You screech like a hyena."
"Learned from the best." She intentionally stroked his ego as she walked in his small apartment. It felt like home. His home. "So, you are really staying?" The lingering question was finally out, allowing Cuddy to glow in her girlish enthusiasm.
Limping, he turned around and faced her again, exploring her body with his eyes. "I didn't say that." Then he pointed to her pashmina and cynically said, "You can take off your blanket. I didn't believe it either but this shitty place actually has heating."
When she unwrapped herself from the long Indian scarf, like a delicious candy, House's jaw almost dropped to the floor. His eyes couldn't hide his excitement and impression, any longer but he had to come up with something witty, otherwise his silence would mean – surrender. And Gregory House never willingly surrendered. "Whoa! Where do you think you are going dressed like that? 42nd St?"
"Well, at least, I don't always look like an unmade bed. And coming from you that must be a compliment. Thank you." She fluttered her eyelashes, extremely pleased with the effect she had left on him.
"You are welcome." House said, clearing his throat. Her raving beauty almost made him stutter so he decided to get even. "By the way, you…" he motioned with his fingers up and down her dress "…unmade. You should try it sometimes."
Cuddy instantly blushed, feeling the heat at the roots of her hair, and quickly averted her gaze. This was the time to change the subject because the unfamiliar territory she was grazing was extremely dangerous. And if she wasn't careful, she could easily fall into his trap. "I want to listen to that song again. There are still some verses I need to protest about."
"I'm not singing it for you. You can download it from iTunes." He devilishly grinned knowing full well he had achieved the desired effect. She blushed before his eyes and he loved it.
"You are such a bastard, House," she said jokingly, finally feeling her muscles relax from the anticipation spasm. The hardest part was over.
"Something you apparently relate to." He backfired, instantly making her change the subject again. His mind was way too sharp and alert, and although she loved it immensely, she had to be on the lookout. She was never sure when it could bite her. Last time it did, December 21st, she cried the gallons of tears out. This time she knew better.
"Whatever. I knew you needed a place to hide, but Africa is so not you. Why Africa?" She tiptoed around the real reason of his resignation but she didn't know how to ask it, without being blunt and emotionally exposed.
"Mongolia, North Korea and South Pole were already packed." House responded, making a funny face, almost refusing to be serious about it. He was having fun. With her. Again.
"How were you planning to survive there?" Cuddy asked, genuinely interested. A mere image of him in the deserts of Africa disturbed her, on so many levels.
"Maybe I wasn't," he said honestly because living away from her, wasn't living at all. Not anymore. Not after he got to taste her; watch her sleep; watch her enjoy nurturing his child in her womb. Yet, he couldn't have her know all that. "I am still trying to understand why you care, though?"
"Surprised you can't figure out everything?" she responded unintentionally hard, sensing that something had changed, then and there. As if regret swelled in his voice.
"No, I pretty much got used to the idea since you shoved it in my face, last time." And then he teleported himself back to that day; the day of anguish and targeted cruelties; the day he decided to leave at the price of losing his soul.
"What the hell were you going to do there, anyway?" Cuddy skillfully tried to avert their thoughts from that afternoon because it hurt more that she could bear.
"I was basically planning to share what ever is left of my formerly amazing gift with the rest world, giving back what I once received." He said in all sincerity because it was everything he wanted to do after losing her. Life after Lisa made no sense, so if his automated humanity could have helped people around the world, he was willing to sacrifice whatever was left of him for it.
"Seriously, House. Treating TB? Not even Cameron could stand that for more than a week." Cuddy refused to believe that Gregory House would intentionally self-destruct and burn while doing what he loved the most; diagnosing people and solving puzzles.
He reached over to the coffee table and grabbed a manila folder; locking his eyes with hers, as if to justify himself, he handed her his doctors-without-borders job description. "Did you pack your Vicodin case?" Cuddy asked, realizing that he was serious about this mission, after all.
"Shipped a truck-load of it last week. It must have already arrived. I hope starving kids don't confuse it with tic-tac." House replied, with an almost sour taste in his mouth. Sarcasm didn't seem to kick in.
"A place with no cable to watch your stupid soaps, no internet to watch porn, no good roads to speed on your bike, and probably no piano to play. That was a brilliant plan, exactly what you needed." Cuddy stated, rolling her eyes in fake amazement.
"I needed peace." House admitted brokenly.
"You can find it anywhere." Cuddy pushed her sharp stick an inch deeper. She silently prayed he would open up and finally talk to her.
"If it's so easy, why didn't you find some for yourself?" House asked, clearly annoyed.
She didn't push far enough and his response wasn't what she had in mind. Stepping away from the minefield, she changed the subject, allowing them both some familiarity. "Why don't you stop being a jerk and offer me something to drink?"
"I have no tea. If you want to wet your throat, be prepared to damage your hepatic cells as well." He got up from the couch they were sitting on and walked towards the makeshift mini-bar. He worked his magic through the choice of alcohol, looking for some clean glasses.
"Who said I wanted tea?" Cuddy asked cockily, measuring his broad back and lean legs from the short distance.
"I have no wine here," House said lifting the liquor bottles one by one. "I think there is still some Gin left in here and some Martini. You up for a Martini?"
Cuddy ogled the bottle in his left hand and confidently said, "I'll go for bourbon, cowboy. And make it a double."
"Whoa whoa whoa, it feels like someone has drastically changed their sissy white wine French champagne taste. Hey, better late than never!" House said mockingly as he handed her a glass full of golden liquid.
"Life has not been white wine, French champagne material in a long time." she replied sorrowfully, counting her losses as she drowned a large gulp. Her dry throat instantaneously welcomed the sensation it received.
"Should we toast?" he sarcastically asked her, swirling the liquid in his glass rhythmically.
"Can you really find a reason to?" she replied bitterly, her eyes veiling her sorrow.
"Don't think so." House wiggled his nose in negation, and then added dramatically. "On the other hand, the lack of reason gives me a very good reason to empty the bottle. Let's hope it kills something inside of me."
Cuddy winced to his last remark trying to decipher what he had exactly meant by killing something inside of him. She hoped it had nothing to do with her or with his declaration, no matter how unusual, of love to her.
"I hope you have learned how to share." Cuddy stated, waving the empty glass in front of him.
"What are you doing?" House asked with a smirk on his face and a slight hint of annoyance in his voice.
"Asking you to fill my glass. Isn't that obvious?" Cuddy replied, confused.
"No, I mean here. What are you doing here? Judging by your outfit you should be somewhere else; doing something else. You know, the kind of things I have absolutely no interest in knowing. Yet, you are sitting on my couch, greedily drinking my booze and pissing me off." House cynically said, withdrawing behind his emotional walls. He was not ready to let her in yet.
Gregory House was an unpredictable creature, yet, knowing him better transformed him into a creature of habit. Every time he approached the threshold of emotional gates, he backed out. He deliberately closed himself in, helplessly drowning in his pain and solace. Tonight was not different.
Pissing him off was the only way to get him out to fight. "If you had succeeded in hiding the hunger in your eyes when you opened the door, and kept your throat from dry swallowing the gulp that instantly formed inside of it, I would believe that you are not interested in me whatsoever. Since you hadn't, I'll just be nice and inform you that I was supposed to be at the COTH Conference Opening Ball, at PPTH."
"Jesus, you are not only annoying, you are presumptuous. You think I give a damn about you because your indecent outfit made me hard? Just for the record, Lisa Cuddy, almost every stripper in NYC would've done the same."
"Probably, knowing how easy you are, but you don't imagine any of them when you jerk off, do you? It's my body you crave, it's my name that slips your lips when you cum on your hands, you asshole." Cuddy delivered in one breath, spiting venom and truth with each uttered word.
Yet House was sensitive to truth or someone proving him wrong, and the only way to defend himself was to counterattack. "Maybe, that's what you want, sex. Can't find a man to satisfy you, right? I can give you some numbers, escort agencies, who knows maybe they have male professionals too?"
"You know what?" Cuddy asked with a disgust expression on her beautiful face, draining the rest of her bourbon. "Screw you! I'm out of here." She got up, lifted her dress and walked towards the foyer, looking for her purse and her shawl.
"Hey Cuddy, wait." House grabbed his cane and limped after her, determined not to let her out of his life this time.
"Get the hell out of my face or I'll make your left leg match the right one, you bastard." She pushed by him, struggling to open the door.
"You are drunk!" He pointed out, placing his palm against the door and therefore preventing her from leaving.
"So are you." Cuddy childishly replied, feeling his breath on her neck.
"Yeah, that's why none of us is driving tonight." House used the last atoms of his strength to act decently and reason with her. Her warm body, just inches away from his, was sinfully tempting. Giving in to the alcohol-induced desires was never a good idea.
"Since when do you give a damn?" She wiggled under him like a trapped cat.
"I don't. But if you already haunt me alive, I can imagine what you would do dead, coming back to pull my leg while I'm sleeping. Come back here you conniving wench, you can crash on my couch." He dragged her by the upper arm, feeling her willingly follow him. "We'll talk in the morning, when you sober up."
"I swear to God you must be bipolar." Cuddy hissed, throwing her belongings on the couch.
"Yes, compared to you. You only come in one version - the annoying one. Now shut up and sit there while I get you some clean sheets and something to change into."
Minutes later he came back with a set of sheets, a pillow, a pair of sweatpants and his Rolling Stones t-shirt; all freshly clean. As he was trying to set the items on the couch, Cuddy attempted to take off her strappy sandals. She unintentionally bumped into his body and caused them both to swivel, losing balance. He caught her around satin-hugged waist, bringing their faces dangerously close.
"I'm the crippled one, and you lose your balance?" House mischievously noted.
"Blame it on your bourbon." Cuddy replied, feeling the heat of his body penetrate her dress and her skin.
"I think I remember how this movie goes." He said as he leaned a bit closer, caressing her lips with his breath. "This is where we kiss."
Andf there he was, with his unique and delicious male scent recognizable among thousands of others, gently invading her nostrils and impregnating her senses. The same defiant and rebel teenage look, contrasted by the lines that time and pain had imprinted on his beautiful face, the reckless and inadequate outfit, old washedout Levi's jeans and a wrinkled black t-shirt. But above it all, those blue, icy eyes, the narrow and inviting windows to his locked-in soul, reminding her of the stubborn humanity he seemed to know how to camouflage, so well.
"We already did that, and I hate reruns. Give me that." Cuddy said with a fake pout, yanking the remaining blanket out of his hands. The she turned around and started making her bed. Her hands were shaking and her heart was thudding so loud, she was sure he could hear it.
He limped away, leaving her to her chores. When he approached his room, he paused in the doorway, turned around and called her, "Wench."
She lifted her beautiful blue eyes to him and defiantly fired back, "Coward."
With a faint smile on his face, House entered his room and closed the door, leaning heavily against it. He steadied his breathing as he considered her last word. Coward. She had meant it with all her being and, the truth was, she was right. He was a coward; one selfish, arrogant, undeserving coward. Yet a grain of hope took roots in his newly discovered heart: she was there, less than 20 feet away, and that was all that mattered.
A/N – song, Slipknot Snuff.
Hope you liked it!
Nikki, Simone, & Andie