Chapter 34
House stares at her. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Once again, he swallows his panic down and starts the car. "When exactly?"
"Eight forty-tree."
He glances at the clock, which reads 8.46am, and takes a mental note. They need to monitor the frequency.
"It's too soon, House."
No kidding. "We'll give you tocolytics when we get there. And steroids." He pulls out his cell and dials the front desk of the hospital. He orders Nurse Regina on the phone. "I'm coming in with a patient in ten. Need a bed ready… Female, 26 weeks pregnant, fever and contractions… Yes, it's Dr. Cuddy, but she's not feeling particularly photogenic right now, so ward off the paparazzi as best you can… Thank you. Have phenotherol and verapamil at the go. And twelve milligrams of bethamethasone." Then he hangs up.
His eyes travel to Cuddy, who seems catatonic. He grabs the water bottle sitting in the holder between the seats and thrusts it at her.
She takes it but makes no attempt at drinking from it. "I'm and idiot," she mutters, her head moving gently from side to side. "For hoping. I actually thought it might end differently this time."
"So now you're the psychic who can see the future?"
"You do think it's an infection. In my urinary tract."
He nods.
"And I can't have any of the floxacins."
He nods again. "We'll find an antibiotic that'll work."
"If it's E. coli, most wont."
He knows it all too well. A urine culture to inform them about the exact type of bacteria and effective treatment takes at least twenty-four hours. "Your bodies initial response to the bacteria was off due to the pregnancy. Natural immunosuppression. Now it's trying to get rid of the parasite so it can focus on keeping you alive."
"Don't call him that!" she snarls.
"If we do have to deliver, survival rates are almost ninety percent."
"And that's a comforting number to you? That's one woman out of ten losing her baby. No woman wants to be that one woman, but some have to be. And with my luck…" she trails off. Drily, she adds, "The rate I'm going at it, Rachel will be run over by a bus come next year."
"Why a bus?" he wonders aloud about the absurdity of her prophecy. "Car is way more likely. Actually, your own car—"
"House, shut up!" she snaps at him.
They stop at a red light, and he snatches the bottle from her, undoes the lid, and hands it back. "Drink up."
She hesitates, pressing her lips together, but eventually obliges.
"If you did have unprotected sex with that progressed form of an ape or with any other male species, this would be the time to tell. If you have syphilis or some—"
"What's with you and your obsession with my sex life? Is this some primitive alpha male—"
"Speaking of primitive: You were the one willing to jump pretty much anyone with a stick."
"Yeah, and this," she nods at her belly, "is such a guy-magnet. Men don't run around preying on pregnant women. In fact, they keep a twenty feet radius distance because they expect the procreator to come jumping from behind the next bush at any moment, swinging the club."
House smirks. "Or in my case, a cane."
Cuddy elicits a small, throaty chuckle. Then her expression sobers, realization setting in. "You're not worried I had some extra on the side. Not that you'd have any right to, but that's beside the point." She observes him for a while, waiting for a reaction, but he keeps his eyes glued to the road. "You just said that to annoy me. So I'd be distracted."
He neither confirms nor denies her assumption.
"Thank you." Her left hand makes contact with his right forearm, patting it in a gentle caress.
The moment feels to House as if they never split, and he has a hard time recollecting why they did. He does know how to put her first. He would give his life for hers in a heartbeat. He knows what love is, and what he feels for her is exactly that. What he doesn't know is how to not love her. He has tried, for many years, especially in the months after their break-up, but failed miserably.
He wonders if she truly believes what she said to him that night. "When you came to my apartment, after—"
Cuddy takes a sharp inhale and her fingers claw around his forearm. "House," she gasps, panic contorting her features as she stares at her abdomen.
He looks at the clock. 8.52am. "Almost there. Just breathe; don't push."
Author note: Sorry it's still scary. Happy Easter (to everyone who celebrates it). And thx for the reviews!