Just before day breakWilson woke from a light sleep as he felt Peyton's hand slapping his. Her eyes were wide open and she was gagging from the tube in her mouth. Getting his bearings he sat up. Seeing him awake she reached up for the tube. He stood up and untapped the tube.
"I need for you to cough for me." As she coughed he slid the long tube out of her mouth causing her to cough more.
She grabbed for her throat feeling the raw and painful spasm that the tube had created. As it passed looking up at Wilson she felt white hot anger rage through her. Remembering his voice and realizing he must have been the one to find her, she half screamed, half whispered feeling her emotions bubble over, "How dare you…How dare you. I'm supposed to be dead. You should have let me die."
Shocked he looked down at Peyton, shaking with anger, her eyes filled with rage, her raspy voice quivering. He expected her to be emotional, maybe even a little ashamed but rage was not on his list of possible reactions. Suddenly her hand flew over to the night stand and box of tissues came flying toward him, hitting him in the forehead. He stood frozen completely baffled.
"You asshole, you had no right." She placed her face in her hands and started sobbing loudly her shoulders heaving up and down.
He slowly sat back down in the chair across from her; He eased himself over to her hesitantly putting a hand on her shoulder. She continued to sob for several minutes.
"I couldn't let you die, suicide is not the answer."
She looked up, her eyes red and blood shot, "Get out. Just Get out!"
"Peyton." He pleaded.
She looked away, "Please leave."
He got up and looked around, "Don't do this."
She sniffled, "Please go away."
Silently he walked out. She listened as the sound of his shoes slowly faded away and then she placed her head back into her hands and brought her knees into her chest, hugging them and sobbing.
A few hours later Peyton was moved out of the ICU and into her own room. Her condition had approved and it looked like she would only be held for another twenty four hours for observation.
Wilson made his way to his office slowly allowing himself time to think. When he walked through his office door it was to the sound of his phone ringing. It was Gladys. He told her Peyton would be okay. She almost cried she was so relieved to hear that her Sammy was alright. She asked him to take care of her and gave him the funeral information she thought Peyton would want to know before saying goodbye.
Placing the phone back in its cradle, he let his head rest in his hands realizing just how exhausted he was after the events of the last twenty four hours. He thought about going home but he'd have to come back to the hospital in just a few hours. He laid his head back on his office sofa seeing the first morning light just starting to peep through the vertical blinds. He closed his eyes and immediately his thoughts scattered into a million different directions and almost all of them led to Peyton.
Images of her lifeless body lying in a pool of vomit on her baby blue comforter came rushing through his head. He couldn't help but be connected to her, care about her and worry that she would just go down this road again. He didn't know what to do, he didn't know how to make it better but he knew he just couldn't let it happen. He tried for several minutes to sleep, he switched positions several times and after a half an hour he made up his mind. He wasn't going to sleep and there were things that he could do. Even if they weren't life changing, someone needed to take care of them. He put his jacket on, grabbed his keys and drove the same route he had driven just under twenty four hours before.
He climbed the three flights of stairs, reaching her apartment to find it exactly as it was left the previous day, the smell of rancid vomit still stinging his nostrils as he entered the hall. Wearing gloves and a plastic apron he bagged all of her bed linens. He placed them in large garbage bags and dumped them down the building's refuse chute to be incinerated. He removed all of the alcohol and removed any medicine, prescriptions or chemicals that could easily be overdosed on. He removed all the knives and sharp objects and then packed a bag for Peyton and headed back to the hospital.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
At just past nine Dr. Lisa Cuddy entered Peyton's room. She smiled warmly as she walked over to the end of her bed and reviewed her chart.
"How're you feeling?"
"Like death warmed over…ohh wait I guess I am."
Cuddy gave her a sharp glare from over the chart before allowing her eyes to fall back to the patient information, "Everything looks good, you should be released in the morning."
Peyton didn't say anything she stared at the window.
"You got lucky."
"Or unlucky, depends on the way you look at it." Peyton said still staring out the window.
Cuddy put down the chart and walked over to the bed, sitting down on the edge next to Peyton, "Listen I want you to take two weeks off, take a vacation, get some help and come back here refreshed. I know a good therapist; I can get you an appointment."
Peyton didn't answer instead she started laughing. Cuddy just stared at her confused.
"You all think I'm glass that the slightest touch will cause me to shatter into a million pieces. It's all of you who are uncomfortable with what I did, not me. I don't want to take two weeks, I'm fine."
"I'm not giving you the time just for you. Everyone here knows and if you think I'm treating you differently just wait until everyone else starts whispering and watching your every move. I think it would serve you best to let things die down around here. And instead of saying I'm giving you the time maybe I should put it more like this, it's mandatory for you to keep your job."
She turned and looked a little surprised at Cuddy's bluntness but she gave her a weak smile.
Cuddy placed her hand over Peyton's, "I can't afford to lose my best doctors, at least not the ones that can put up with House anyway. They're just too hard to come by."
Peyton smiled.
"Peyton I just want to help. I want you to know how grateful I am to you for helping me in my time of need and now I want to do the same for you."
Peyton patted her hand and gave her a weak smile.
Both women looked up as a noise came from the hall. Wilson was standing in the doorway, his coat still on, carrying a duffle bag.
Cuddy gave Peyton a squeeze on the shoulder and quietly slipped out of the room, giving Wilson a nod as she walked past.
Wilson's eyes locked with Peyton's asking permission to enter the room. She didn't respond but he took the fact that she wasn't screaming or throwing objects as a sign that it was safe to enter. He walked in slowly, carefully easing into the room.
He put the duffle bag down by the nightstand and put his hands up as a gesture of peace, "I'm not staying. I just brought you some clean clothes and some stuff I thought you might need."
She eyed him but she didn't say anything.
"Dr. Malverne said you're going to be released at 9am tomorrow, so I'll be by in the morning to pick you up."
She glared at him, her jaw clenched and her hands balled up next to her, "Why are you doing this? You don't know me. I don't want your help and I certainly don't need it."
He shrugged, "I haven't got anything better to do and everyone needs someone."
"No..No they don't. You need someone and that's why you're doing this. I'm not your poor lost puppy or your new project. I don't want to be fixed."
Wilson raised his voice slightly feeling the tension in the room growing thick, "Is that what you think, that I want to fix you. I want to be your friend, someone for you to lean on. No one can help you, if you aren't willing to help yourself. And don't say for one second that you don't need a friend, a suicide attempt is about the biggest cry for help there is."
She opened her mouth to say something but she stopped. His words echoed back in her head. No one can help you if you aren't willing to help yourself. Those were the same words she'd spoken about her father. The same way she felt about him and his slow and painful spiral to his demise. She looked away from him and out the window again. It all hit her, she was her father and she was heading down that road. She'd pushed everyone away; but she hadn't hidden behind the drugs instead she'd hidden behind the memory of Abby. She could feel the tears welling in her eyes. She didn't want to be like her father, she didn't want to be remembered that way.
The tears started spilling down her cheeks as her whole body ached and filled with pain. It overwhelmed her and washed through her. She didn't want to face it; she'd spent so long running from it that she just didn't know if she had the strength to deal with it anymore.
Wilson could see that she was crying but he didn't move, he stood at the end of her bed. She wiped her eyes and sniffled before looking back at him. She gave him a nod and he took that as a positive step, he nodded back, walked over squeezed her shoulder and left the room.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
House hummed along with the radio as he turned into Cuddy's drive. He pulled his knapsack out of the back seat and limped up the sidewalk. He pushed open the door yelling, "Honey..I'm Home."
He looked around; walking into the living room he could hear a shuffling coming from the back of the house. As he continued down the hall he could hear grunting and panting from the guest room. Confused and slightly worried he turned the corner to see Cuddy standing on a tall step ladder in the doorway of the closet juggling what seemed to be a large box. She hoisted the box onto the floor where two more were sitting before he could get to her.
"What the hell are you doing?" His voice boomed causing her jump. He could see the sweat beads forming on her forehead and her panting slightly.
She looked up at him eyes wide and knowing she had been caught doing something she wasn't supposed to.
"Get the hell down from there." He bellowed.
She just stared back, shocked at how upset he was.
He threw his cane on the bed and propelled himself over to the step ladder in one motion yanking her arm and pulling her down from the second to last wrung.
Still holding her wrist he yelled, "Are you a fucking moron, you know you shouldn't be lifting that. What the hell would you have done if you'd fallen? No one is here to help you."
She felt her throat constrict and chest tighten, she didn't know whether to be mad or frightened. His blue eyes flashed with anger and bore down on her making her feel small.
He brought his face closer to hers, raising his voice, "Huh, answer me, what were you thinking? I want to know what inspired this attack of stupidity."
She opened her mouth and a series of syllables came out, "I, eh..um.."
"Well" He bellowed in her face.
Then softly in an almost childlike whisper she looked up eyes big and full, "Christmas is in three weeks I just wanted to get down some decorations."
His mouth opened and then he closed his eyes and shook his head as if he was trying hard to understand what he just heard, "You're a Jew."
She jerked her wrist out of his hand, "So that doesn't mean that I can't enjoy a few decorations and a tree. I'll be sure to be fair to Hanukkah and put the menorah out too."
He glared at her and let out a frustrated growl. He was so angry that he could feel his blood boiling, "As long as you're carrying my baby you'll stay the hell away from ladders and leave the heavy lifting to someone else."
She just glared back at him.
"Understand? Next time ask someone to help."
She placed her hand on her hips, "Like who, you certainly aren't going to help."
His face grew tight again and he looked like he was going to yell again but after a moment he blew air out from his cheeks, and sighed "That's what we have a Wilson for."
He was still angry but she couldn't help but laugh which made him soften a bit more.
"I'm serious. You're high risk, no heavy lifting, no climbing ladders and no more long hours."
"I'm fine."
"Yeah, just because I have to babysit your incredibly large ass." He half smiled but then his expression turned serious, "I mean it."
She looked up and smiled warmly at him planting a kiss on his cheek, she really liked this overly protective caring House. She'd never had someone fuss so much over her and if there was ever anyone that she thought would, she certainly wouldn't have guessed House. "You call Wilson. I'll be good."
He rolled his eyes as he watched her walk out of the room. He could feel his blood pressure and heart rate starting to return to normal and his breathing was slowing but he was still angry. He was mad at her for being so stupid and he was mad at himself for getting so worked up. She was making him nervous, he wasn't an anxious person. He wasn't used to being nervous and he hated it, it made him feel stupid. Anxiety was for other people, stupid people because they didn't know any better, not him. He was intelligent, calm, he was prepared and he knew what to do and if he didn't as long as it wasn't life threatening or concerning a case he just didn't care. The problem was he was starting to realize just how much he cared and it was starting to scare the hell out of him. Just seeing her standing up on that thing with that box made his heart stop and images of her clutching her stomach and writhing in pain after a bad fall rush through his head. He was too aware of everything that could go wrong and now he was feeling himself grow more and more concerned with her well-being each passing day.
It was an odd feeling to care about someone more than he cared about himself. He thought he knew what that was but he was learning that nothing compared to this. He ran his hand down his face, sitting down on the bed. He felt out of control, helpless and he was loathing every second of it. He leaned back on the bed staring at the ceiling and wondering just how the hell he was going to handle the next five months and worse yet the little being that was going to come afterwards.
After lying on the bed and contemplating his new life for quite some time House made his way out into Cuddy's living room. She was comfortably seated on the sofa with her feet propped up, the television on with a pint of Ben and Jerry's in hand. She was just taking the spoon from her mouth when she looked up to see him walk in the room. He limped towards her eyeing her as he did, giving her a look to make it clear that for now the display of anger was over but he was still mad.
"Aren't you supposed to have dinner before dessert?" He said pointing to the half eaten pint of ice cream and slumping down into the sofa next to her.
She smiled and gave him an innocent look, "Tell her that. I'm not in control anymore." She waved the spoon at her belly as she spoke.
He rolled his eyes and leaned his head into her stomach, "Mommy is already blaming you for all of the dumb stuff she does. You need to be prepared, it's only going to get worse; she does a lot of dumb stuff."
She gave him a disapproving look and swatted him away from her belly going in for another spoonful of the ice cream.
Feeling the tension still in his shoulders he let out a frustrated breath and combed his hand down his face trying to release his stress.
She took notice and gave him a sympathetic look, handing him the spoon.
He didn't hesitate and dug into the chunky monkey, scooping out a spoonful almost too big for his mouth.
"I know this isn't easy for you, and I know you wouldn't have chosen this but I'm really happy that you're here. I'm happy that we're doing this together." She placed a hand on his leg.
House pulled the spoon out of his mouth, "Ohh, you thought I cared, I'm just in this for the sex." He grinned wide.
"Do you always have to ruin it when someone says something nice?"
"Yep, pretty much." He said diving into the pint with his spoon again.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Later lying in bed, both flushed and basking in the afterglow of orgasm, he spooned her naked body wrapping his hand around her abdomen, letting his long fingers stretch out over its girth. Feeling satisfied and completely relaxed he closed his eyes and nuzzled his head into her neck breathing in the smell of her coconut shampoo. She placed her hand over his and sighed.
"House?
"Hmmm." He responded not opening his eyes.
"I'm Jewish."
He opened his eyes at the strange affirmation of her religion, "I'm Buddhist"
She didn't act like she heard him, instead she turned to face him, "You're not Jewish."
"Again stating the obvious, do you want to try starting at the beginning of the thought process instead of in the middle?"
"Do you mind if she is raised Jewish?" She asked rubbing her hand along her belly.
"You're not a practicing Jew."
"So?"
"Don't you think it's hypocritical to pass on a religion you don't practice?"
"No I don't. When she's old enough she can make up her own mind but she should at least have a choice."
He rolled away from her slightly looking up at the ceiling and grabbing his temples, "Do we have to talk about this now."
"Yeah we do."
"Well then why don't you teach her Buddhism or Hinduism or I know Satanism. That way she'll have a variety to choose from."
"HOUSE, I'm serious."
"So am I, I don't want my kid to be poisoned into believing there is something out there that will make everything okay, that will magically make things happen or keep from happening."
"So you weren't raised with religion at all."
He looked away irritated, "My parents were Baptist."
"Did they take you to church?"
"Where is this going?"
"I want to pass things on to our child from both of our families, including faith."
He let out of growl of disapproval, "So you're saying you want her to be an Atheist Baptist Jew.
She glared at him, "No, I'm saying I want to honor certain traditions. Like Hanukkah and Christmas. She can have a Menorah and a tree."
He rolled his eyes and grabbed his forehead, "I'm getting a headache from all the faith floating around in here."
She pushed herself up in the bed sitting against the headboard and looking down at him, "We need to talk about these things. I'm at the halfway mark, she'll be here in 4 and half months. Things are going to change and we need to talk about that. There are plans that need to be made."
He stared up at her with his big blue eyes, "Do we have to talk about it now?"
"There's always going to be a reason to put it off."
He rolled over towards her and placed his hand on the side of his head and leaned on his elbow, "Fine what else do we need to decide, her political views?"
She breathed in deep and let it out as if she'd been waiting to ask, "Well for starters, where are you going to live?"
His eyes registered his shock because he hadn't thought about it, he spent only 2 to 3 nights a week at his place and that was only when he had to work late or he just wanted to be alone but he couldn't imagine giving it up. He was starting to feel claustrophobic, like he was being forced into a tiny hole. He felt like he was losing himself in all of this. Everything that defined him was changing and he wasn't ready.
"What do you want me to say?"
"I want us all to be together, as a family. I think you should move in."
He didn't say anything he just looked at her sheepishly, feeling the weight starting to bear down on him again.
She sensed that it was a big question for him so she patted his hand and slid down next to him, "You don't have to say anything right now, just think about it."
He nodded and wrapped his arm around her again. She reached up and turned off the lamp. He placed his hand back on her abdomen, stretching his fingers back over her bump. But this time he wasn't feeling so comfortable and satiated, his eyes remained open staring into the darkness. He was trying to put new pieces of his life into the old puzzle without changing anything but he knew it wasn't going to work. He laid there most of the night asking himself if he was ready to do this, if he was ready to be a family, live a different life. But he couldn't answer himself; he couldn't help but feel like he was going through the motions and that it wouldn't be good enough. That he wouldn't be able to change along with everything that was changing around him.