Okay, so here's another chapter. I worked on it A LOT, and am still not 100 percent happy with it, but I think it's as good as it gets. Not sure why I was having such a hard time with it. It gives a lot of direction to the plot, and I hope you still like where this story is headed.
Chapter 24
They are all at the park together, the June sun shining down on them. They had some sandwiches and watermelon, and now Rachel and John are off running, playing soccer with a bunch of other kids.
House is lying back on the blanket they have placed on the grass in the shade, his hands folded under his head. Cuddy sits next to him cross-legged, munching on a piece of melon. He glances through the canopy of leaves at the clear blue sky above them.
"What was childbirth like?" he asks her.
She looks at him oddly, surprised by his choice of topic. "Not something I regret to never experience in my life again. I was in labor for sixteen hours, refusing PDA, and—
"No idea why I asked that," he stops her. "Just as boring as all the other stories about this incredibly unique experience," he says sarcastically. "Let's move onto breastfeeding. Way more interesting. Were you at all turned on by it?"
She rolls her eyes at him, making a little 'tz'-sound with her tongue.
"Come on, you said you were willing to share."
"About what John was like," she deflects.
He is amused by her discomfort, obviously having hit the right spot. "It's not a big deal. With all the oxytocine and prolactine flooding your body… And nipples being erogenous zones… Thirty to fifty percent of women experience it."
She pulls in her lower lip. "I know," she confesses in a low voice. "I googled it. I thought I'd gone completely whacko, and was close to reporting myself to Child Protection Services."
He chuckles.
"How do you know?"
"A patient asked me once," he explains. "Back when I still had clinic duty. I tended to attract all the whackos."
She gives him an ironic grin, picking up on the small jab at her.
Since their fight, they have shared several of these moments—bantering like old times—and House feels more comfortable with her than he cares to admit. He also finds himself enjoying the company of the kids immensely, and is surprised by how easily he managed to embrace all the noise that has entered his life so unexpectedly. Contemplating his bliss makes him wonder about when and how it will end. The school year is over soon, and House is anxious about what will happen thereafter. He thus far could not muster up the courage to address with Cuddy that his services as John's driver will not be needed much longer. Whenever the issue had entered his mind, though, he pushed asking her about it to another date.
She must have been contemplating the same thing, because eventually she says: "It's John's last full week of school next week." Her voice is casual, but he suspects that the conversation is crucial to their future—or rather to his future in their lives.
The school year in Princeton ends on the Tuesday one and a half weeks from now. He knows this, and she knows that he does. He is not sure exactly what she is getting at. "You want me to throw him his first Jell-O shot party?" he asks cockily.
She ignores his comment. "Rachel still has school that week. I am going to take the four days off. I don't want him to be alone at the house all day. I'll come down on Tuesday and pick him up after school, pack his things, and move him back home."
He looks at her, still unclear about where the conversation is headed. "I don't think I'll be any help carrying the boxes to the car." He clenches his hand around a bundle of grass, pulling on it.
"I'm just saying that you don't need to drive him here next weekend. I'm sure he'll be fine, knowing that it'll only be a couple of days after the weekend until I take him home."
House makes a fake sound of understanding in the back of his throat, and focuses his eyes back on the tree branches. What she said implies that the current weekend is his last weekend with them. It bothers him that she is taking everything out of his hands again; that his time with them is coming to such an abrupt ending. He cannot help but feel bereft, and is surprised by how much grief erupts in him.
Although he is convinced he hides his feelings well, she picks up on his change of mood. "Have you thought about what you tell the kids when they ask about when they'll see you again?"
He turns his head towards her. "They wanna see me again?" he tries to joke, but it comes out more bitterly than he intended. He wonders why she is acting as if any of this was his choice. "You brought it up, so you obviously put some brain matter into this already."
He shifts his focus onto her, observing her body language more closely. Maybe he has misinterpreted what she said before. She, too, seems nervous. She twiddles around with the green peel from her piece of watermelon, eventually setting it down, and wipes her hands on a napkin rather forcefully. "I was going to leave that mostly up to you," she says, avoiding his eyes. "The kids will be at camp over the summer, but you're welcome to come visit after that."
He realizes he has been holding his breath while she talked. He is still uncertain about what exactly she is suggesting, and why she is holding back. He thought he had been clear about wanting to be involved. He exhales slowly. "You mean the way I am visiting now?"
She shrugs, biting down on her bottom lip. "Maybe less frequently?! Like every other weekend?! Depending on all our schedules." She fiddles with her napkin.
He sits ups slowly, carefully rubbing his leg. He remains quiet and waits for her to continue, hoping for more cues regarding her vagueness.
"Maybe we can come down to Princeton more often. I could drop the kids off with you while I see my sister. Or you come pick them up." She meets his eyes, but only fleetingly.
He is confused by the words 'drop off' and 'pick up'.
"We could start to look for apartments here, if-if you want. Where they could go to see you."
Then it finally dawns on him. She is not worried he might not want the kids; she is worried he might not want her. She actually considered handling this like a divorced couple: To have the kids staying with him every second weekend. He feels relieved and almost laughs at the absurdity of it.
"Why are you smiling?" she asks, sounding confused.
He has not even once entertained the thought of cutting her out of the picture. Rachel is not his child, and he has no rights whatsoever to see her. Another, more significant reason, is that he doubts his abilities to meet all their needs—his capabilities to fully provide for them. He lacks Cuddy's warmth and emotional care. Most importantly, though, he wishes to be part of their lives, not force them into another life with him, separating them from their mother. "First you're reluctant to let me even meet John, and now you wanna throw your kids at me for an entire weekend?" he taunts her, taking pleasure in leaving her floundering a little.
"I wasn't suggesting the whole weekend—"
"If I didn't know you were already decades past menopause, I'd be assuming your aunt flow to be spinning your wheelhouse a little."
Cuddy sighs, rubbing her forehead. "House, you're obviously great with them. I was just saying that if you want to take them to the bowling alley in Lawrence, or if you want your own place here where they can come visit, that's fine."
He lies back on the blanket, twirling his cane in his hand. "Well, first of all, I get paid the salary of an intern. Do you remember rental prices in Princeton? They have quadrupled since last you checked."
"Maybe I could help out with that."
"Second of all," he continues, ignoring her, "this is a free country. You can tag along and demonstrate your pathetic bowling skills to all of us." He enjoys himself. "And third, your couch already remembers the imprint of my butt cheeks. We're tight like this." He stops his cane and looks at her, crossing his middle finger over his index. "It would be offended if I left it for another."
She puffs out some air, and holds his gaze for a long time. "Okay." She nods.
For a while they both sit in silence. He plays with his cane; she watches John and Rachel chasing after the ball.
"Julia's youngest will be here in the first week of Rachel's break," Cuddy informs him after a while. "She's fourteen, so she can keep an eye on everything. After that, the three of them will go to camp together for eight weeks. It took a while to convince John to go, but he did have a blast last year."
Again, he is unsure why she is sharing these details with him. She knows he has no interest in specifics. He squints his eyes at her.
"You could come see them off, if you want. Before they leave."
He nods, appreciating her suggestion. "Yeah." He is happy at the thought of seeing them again in two weeks.
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He is back in New Haven for the whole weekend before camp starts in order to spend as much time with the kids as possible. He is of no use in helping them pack—a task he always detested—but has fun giving them advice on how to pull pranks on their cabin camp mates. On Sunday afternoon, he drives the three kids and Cuddy to the appointed drop-off location near Rachel's school.
"What if I cannot sleep at night?" John worries in the car.
"I put some earplugs in your toilet bag," Cuddy tells him. "And I packed your small light, so just pull out your book and read until you get tired."
"What if the other kids are mean to me?"
"They won't be, honey."
"Just tell them you have a big sister and a big cousin who will kick them in their finest area if they don't stop," House suggests.
He hears giggles from the back seat; Cuddy gives him a sideways glance.
She turns her head around to look at the kids. "Rachel, Josie, one of you sit with John on the bus if he doesn't have anyone else to sit with, okay?"
"Mom, I have friends! I was only gone for a year," John defends himself.
"I know that, honey, it just might turn out to be an uneven number of you and your friends, and if everyone's already on the bus when we get there… I just don't want you sitting all by yourself for the entire ride, okay?" She reaches behind her seat to pat his knee. "Rachel, did you hear me?"
"Yes, Mom," she sighs.
"In the light of being overprotective," House jumps in, "did you also pack them toilet paper in case the camp runs out?"
"No." Cuddy rolls her eyes, but actually looks somewhat embarrassed.
"Wet wipes?"
She drops her head and covers the left side of her face, hiding away from him.
"God, you're so predictable," he chides, but actually enjoys mocking her, the corners of his mouth twitching upward.
When she drops her hand from her face, he sees that she is just as amused.
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They all wave at each other as the bus leaves. It is a cloudy afternoon with occasional showers, but the air feels mild and warm. John sits by the window, pressing his hand against the glass. He has tears in his eyes, and Cuddy fights hard not to cry as well. "It'll be great," she says out loud, holding both her thumbs up. House hopes John can read from her lips.
"God, eight weeks is a long time," she says as the bus pulls around the corner. She looks worried.
"He'll be fine."
They walk back to the car, and House drives Cuddy home. She is quiet during the ride, and actually dozes off halfway there.
"We're here," he says as he puts the gear into 'Park' in her driveway, leaving the motor idling.
She hums quietly as she wakes up from her slumber, her eyes blinking rapidly several times. "Okay. Thank you," she mumbles, undoing her seat belt. "We'll be in touch?!"
"Yeah," he nods. "I'll call you when I hear from them. And when I don't hear from them."
"Okay. Drive safe." She gives him a small smile before she grabs her purse and exits the car.
He waits and watches her reach the front door and unlock it. She turns around briefly to look at him again before she vanishes inside. As he pulls out of the driveway, he realizes that he is not just going to miss the kids.
A fleeting image of Cuddy crying pops up in his mind's eye. For a moment he thinks he is simply projecting his sadness onto her, but then he realizes that this is the first time she is truly alone in the house since her husband died.
He parks the car again at the curb, grabs his cane, and gets out.
Making his way through the house, he finally finds her lying in Rachel's bed, a stuffed elephant pressed against her chest. When he sees her lying there, her big watery eyes looking at him in wonder, he fails to repress the love he feels for her. Even despite everything, a part of him still loves her. Maybe a part of him never truly stopped loving her. Maybe a part of him never will. In that moment, he also knows that he is never going to act on those feelings. He makes a promise to himself to never go down that road with her again.
"Cuddy," is all he says as he limps his way over to her.
"I thought I heard you pull out the driveway," she sniffles, her voice shaking. She swallows and wipes at her eyes. "What are you doing back here?"
"You are just that predictable," he teases, sitting down next to her. By now he is so used to comforting her that his hand finds its way to her back before he manages to suppress the impulse.
"Hm." She tugs in her chin.
"I heard parents are supposed to jump on their kids' beds when they have the luxury to be rid of the life-sucking parasites for a while, not lie in them crying."
"I never got a copy of that handbook." She closes her eyes briefly, her tears silently rolling over the bridge of her nose and dripping onto the mattress. "Is your mother still alive?"
He shakes his head.
"When she passed away, did you feel like it was harder to be a grown-up?" she asks, looking up at him.
"Have we met?" He squints his eyes at her. "I never grew up."
She gives him a small smile. Then she glances at her wedding band, a forlorn expression on her face. "I'm not sure why, but I felt like the world got meaner after my mother died."
"As a form of compensation? She can't be nasty to you anymore, so now the whole world makes up for the loss?"
This gets a small chuckle out of her. She sighs. "I guess death makes you remember the good parts only. The things you miss."
"Selective memory," he nods, and hands her a tissue from Rachel's desk. She wipes her eyes and nose. "Come on," he says, giving her back a gentle push. "Let's make some dinner. Something the kids hate."
"Indian?" she asks, sounding slightly fond of his idea.
"With lots of chili."
She smiles through her tears and lets him help her onto her feet.
After they cook and eat together, he keeps her company until she is asleep on the couch. He turns off the TV and covers her with a blanket before he leaves to drive back to Princeton.