A/N: Sorry about the delay, but I've been busy and I have also hit another spell of writer's block. Thanks for your patience and if anyone is borrowing my muse, please send her back!
Disclaimer: Don't Own, Etc.
House began to wake up when he felt something poking him in the back. He tried to go back to sleep, but it happened a second time. After the third time, he was pretty close to being wide awake and he had figured out that Cuddy was lying with her abdomen touching his back and the baby was kicking her and he was feeling it. He turned over carefully, trying not to wake Cuddy.
He lightly placed his hand on her belly. Medically, he knew exactly what was happening. After all, he had mocked any expectant father he ever met who expressed awe over feeling his child move in its mother's uterus. Now that it was his child, he felt a little differently. Not awestruck (he would never admit that), but, curious, yes, that was it. Cuddy was far enough along that he had begun to allow himself to wonder what the baby would be like. Hopefully, the baby would have Cuddy's hair, so he wouldn't have to worry about going bald. Not that House worried about that, of course, because that would mean he cared what other people thought. But, still.
As he felt the movement, Cuddy began to wake up. "He's pretty active today," She murmured, stretching out her arms and legs.
"Do you think we have time for a quickie?" House asked, staring down at her naked body. (They woke up during the night and had sex, and Cuddy's hose, garter and nightgown wound up on the floor.)
"I'd like to get going so we get to the next hotel at a reasonable hour," Cuddy said.
"Oh-kayy . . . " House responded like a disappointed child.
"I'll make it up to you when we get to Hilton Head," Cuddy promised.
"Sex on the beach?" House asked expectantly.
"Absolutely," Cuddy replied
They showered, dressed, and ate a large breakfast. Cuddy, at least, was hoping to avoid another gas station meal.
They were on the road by nine. Most of the remainder of the trip was on I-95, which was fast, but also terribly boring.
Cuddy had not allowed House to bring his ipod, since she didn't want him spending hours tuned out. They listened to the radio for a while, but most of the stations played country music, which House had a limited tolerance for. After about a half-hour, including some intense but unsuccessful searching for a station that played anything else, he snapped it off in frustration.
"I think we're going to have to talk," Cuddy said. "To each other."
"Oh, man," House groaned. "Alright, what do you want to talk about?"
"Well, I know that sex is your favorite topic, but, since you're a man and can't multitask, I don't want to distract you from driving," Cuddy stated.
"That's rather sexist, don't you think?" House said in a mock-hurt tone.
"Well, when it comes to sexism, you're the expert," Cuddy responded.
"Touché," House replied. "What else? If I were with Wilson, we could talk about monster trucks, WWF, The "L" Word, and which nurses are most 'doable.'"
"What?" Cuddy asked angrily. "You're married and Wilson's in a committed relationship and you still talk about 'doing' nurses?"
"Hey, it's not like we'd actually 'do' them," House answered. "It's just sort of a theoretical ranking game."
"Men are pigs," Cuddy stated.
"And your point is?" House asked rhetorically. "Besides, don't tell me you never check out the hunky physical therapists you have on staff."
"Just the male ones," Cuddy admitted.
"Damn," House exclaimed. "There's another fantasy out the window. So, what else do you want to talk about?"
"Well, we can talk about work, or the house," Cuddy said.
"Bor-ring," House responded. "How about gossiping about Wilson and Andie?"
"It doesn't seem like there is much to talk about there," Cuddy replied. "They seem to be getting along pretty well."
""Well, Wilson hasn't married her yet, so that's a good sign," House stated.
"Yeah," Cuddy chuckled. "I don't think she'd get married that fast even if he asked her."
"What is her deal, anyway?" House asked. "I know that her marriage ended badly and her son died, but she seems even more damaged than that."
"I'm sure Wilson has the full story, which I'm surprised he hasn't shared with you," Cuddy said with an eye-roll, "But I think she also had a difficult childhood."
"Abuse?" House asked.
"From what she's said to me, mostly psychological," Cuddy replied. "It sounds like her mother is so bad that she makes mine seem sweet by comparison."
"Wow," House said. "Well, nothing like abuse to screw you up for the rest of your life. It's the gift that keeps on giving."
"She said something like that when she was talking to me about it," Cuddy remarked. "House, do you remember what we said at the wedding?"
"Most of it, at least before the bourbon," House replied sarcastically. "Anything specific?"
"The part about not keeping your pain from me," Cuddy responded.
Since they had just been talking about abuse, House became worried where the conversation might be going. "I thought we were talking about my leg," he deflected.
"You can forget trying to convince me that a man who his so observant of the subtleties of human behavior he can base a correct diagnosis on what a patient doesn't tell him is so obtuse that he can only imagine we were talking about physical pain," Cuddy stated.
"You want me to tell you all about my shitty childhood?" House asked with a flash of anger in his voice. "What the hell is the point of reliving all that crap? It's not going to fix it. Is it so you can pity me?"
Even though House was giving her his usual hard time about anything involving his emotions, Cuddy thought it was significant that he would actually admit to his fear of being pitied. She knew if she expressed sympathy, he would shut down, and the conversation would be over pretty quickly. She decided she would try to speak to his logical side instead.
"Well, for one thing, it would help me to understand you better," Cuddy replied. "And then I wouldn't inadvertently do things that trigger bad memories and upset you."
"Are you going to be beating me with a belt anytime soon, Cuddy? How kinky!" House snarked.
"No, and I don't smoke, so you don't have to worry about any . . . " Cuddy was trying to snark back, but she just couldn't think of anything witty to say about burning someone with a lighted cigarette. "House, how could a parent do that to a child?"
"Well, he wasn't my biological father, so that might have made it easier," House replied.
"Rachael isn't our biological child, and I know you'd do anything to protect her, including lying down in front of train for her," Cuddy responded. "And you would never do anything to hurt her."
"Yeah, well, you didn't have Rachael as the result of an affair while you were married to me," House retorted. He wasn't making excuses for John, he was trying to understand it himself.
"But you would be mad at me, and I know you wouldn't take it out on her!" Cuddy exclaimed.
"She'd be your child, Lisa, how could I?" House asked in his softest voice.
Cuddy gasped. She knew that House loved her. Sometimes she needed to be reminded just how much.
The way Cuddy was looking at him, with all those feelings shining in her eyes, made House uncomfortable. "He was a marine," House offered.
"So, that made him a cruel bastard?" Cuddy asked, puzzled.
"No," House replied. "But I'm pretty sure he had survival training. Maybe he thought the ice baths and making me sleep outside were teaching me to survive."
"And the beatings and cigarette burns?" Cuddy involuntarily winced.
"To make be better able to withstand torture?" House questioned.
"Yeah, because you were really in danger of being tortured by the enemy as an American kid on a U.S. military base in Japan," Cuddy said, finding her sarcastic voice.
"I know he expected me to become a marine," House said. "Maybe he thought he would give me an advantage when I went into survival training."
"Most parents just pay for Kaplan courses," Cuddy said sardonically. "At least the ones who aren't sadists."
House smiled slightly, in spite of the seriousness of the topic. "Well, he's dead now, so I guess we'll never get to hear his self-serving justifications. Hey, you invited my mom to stay with us when the baby is born. So, I'm sure you'll get to hear all about John's take on 'discipline.'"
"God, I hope not," Cuddy said.
"Can we talk about something else now?" House asked. "What about the ugliness of your childhood?"
"Well, it can't compare to what happened to you," Cuddy said. "My dad was always great. And my mom wasn't abusive, just misguided. She could never seem to support anything I did."
"Yeah, because who would support a smart, strong, independent, beautiful, funny, accomplished daughter?" House asked sarcastically. "Hey, maybe she wasn't cruel, she was just stupid. Or nuts."
"Um, thanks, I think," Cuddy responded. "The stuff that mattered to her – being socially accepted, keeping up with our neighbors and friends, doing what was 'expected' -- never mattered to me."
"One of many things I love about you, Cuddy," House said lightly. "Hey, you don't suppose it's because she's Jewish, do you? I mean, when she was growing up, anti-Semitism was a lot more prevalent."
"It could be, I suppose," Cuddy replied. "She would never have told me about that because she would have been ashamed of it."
"Ashamed that other people behave like idiots?" House asked incredulously.
"She would have seen it as an attack on her dignity," Cuddy responded. "And that would have made her ashamed."
"I guess I'll never understand your mother," House stated.
"And I'll never understand your father, either," Cuddy countered.
"You're sure you don't want to talk about sex?" House said, wiggling his eyebrows.
"Just focus on driving, stud," Cuddy replied.
"Yes, ma'am," House said.
