Chapter 16 - Lisa Cuddy

She could not have given any understandable reason to explain her actions. How could she have justified getting in her car and driving to New Jersey to help the man she'd never wanted to see again in her life.

Her whole body felt numb and her mind didn't seem really awake either, while the landscapes rushed past her on both sides. The radio was on, but she couldn't hear it. Her thoughts had been a long way off since the conversation with Wilson.

Once again she wondered, as she had often done in the past few hours, how she had been persuaded to go, leaving her daughter with her mother and taking vacation from her new job just to help House.

House, of all people.

Gradually she took her foot off the gas as the city drew closer. The sun had not yet fully risen and it was dark in the alleys as she made her way to the hotel where she would stay for a few days.

Everything she did, from parking to checking in, happened without her full mental alertness because part of her mind was always with House.

When Wilson told her about the accident, she could hardly believe her ears. House had suffered many blows of fate in his life, but his head had so far been spared such damage. Though it shouldn't have hurt Cuddy, she felt the tinge of pity that made her heart ache. Although she always tried to convince herself that someone like House had forfeited his right to be helped, she couldn't bring herself to turn away from the patient and refuse to help. At the same time, she could not yet say for sure whether her medical care was speaking from her or the suppressed love that still struggled to the surface from time to time.

It was only hours later that she was standing in front of the large, glass front doors of Princeton Plainsboro, her feet refusing to carry her any further. She hadn't been there for over a year. Much had certainly changed. She was reluctant to answer questions from old friends and to lapse into casual chat when she really didn't want to be there. She was just toying with the disappointing thought of turning around and retreating to her hotel room, but when she turned her head she saw Wilson out of the corner of her eye, who was coming outside from inside the hospital and greeted her with grateful eyes. Now there was no turning back.

"Good morning, Cuddy," he said cautiously and stopped in front of her. In his narrow eyes she could read his deep relief. "I'm glad you decided to come."

Cuddy replied with a faint smile that she couldn't give the warmth she intended. She didn't want to take her displeasure out on Wilson, because she could literally feel how much his friend's injury was affecting him. Even if he tried very hard, he couldn't hide from her that he was overtired and stressed.

"Is he there yet?" She tried to start the conversation as they entered side by side and let her gaze wander attentively. Everything looked the same as always. Doctors and nurses hurried from place to place around her, but some stopped doing their work and looked up. Glances were directed at her, which made Cuddy feel the need to quickly disappear to a more protected place in order to escape possible questions and conversations.

Wilson seemed to read her mind, nudged her gently with his hand on the shoulder and made a quick gesture for her to follow him. She complied with the request, relieved, and walked next to him to the elevator, which fortunately they could enter alone before anyone had the thought to speak to her. They drove up to the diagnostic department floor in silence. Wilson first led her into his office and closed the door.

Cuddy's gaze instinctively slid over to the balcony door, which was also a kind of connecting door between the two friends' offices. She expected to see House there because she knew he had just walked into Wilson's office before. But House wasn't there.

"He's in a team meeting about the new case," Wilson explained, catching her eye.

"A new case? In his condition?" Cuddy asked, frowning in confusion.

"Foreman was in a hurry," Wilson waved him off without going into detail. "House is only allowed to listen, of course. Chase has taken over the management for so long."

She was silent. Although she had delegated the formal management of the department herself to other members of the team, whenever House went too far, it seemed absurd now that House had given up his position. It was logical, he probably couldn't make any medical decisions in his condition. Presumably he couldn't even handle as directed.

Again pity stirred in Cuddy and made the corners of her mouth twist annoyed. She was annoyed that she couldn't just seem to see House as a normal amnesia patient, but that his case was close to her because it shouldn't, after everything that had happened.

"Should I wait for them to finish?" she asked Wilson. He only weighed his head from side to side.

"You can go to him right now," he replied thoughtfully. A sad glimmer entered his eyes as he now looked directly into her eyes. "Please don't be too hard on him. He doesn't know what happened."

Cuddy bit her lip. She knew what he was saying was true, but she couldn't tell whether, in case of doubt, she would be able to keep the pent-up anger of the past year to herself. Surely it wouldn't be fair to punish House for his actions now, after all, he had never committed them in the sketchy version of his life. There would be little point in relieving her anger against him, and it would probably only confuse him more than he already was. But could she suppress her anger?

She gave Wilson a curt nod. In the end he was right, she would try to be gentle and understanding no matter how difficult it was for her. If he remembered their failed relationship, she could still throw everything that burned inside her at him. But now was not the time to do it.

With that thought, she turned and opened the door, leaving Wilson alone in his office. She straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath.

On the way to the diagnostics department, her steps grew heavier with each dwindling meter. Soon she could see through the glass walls of the office into the conference room and peered through the covers, which were a little bit closed.

And then she saw the assembled Team House. Almost like before. She saw two young women, unknown to her, sitting at the conference table, looking down at a file. And she also saw House, who wasn't standing at his whiteboard and shooing his lackeys, but was sitting in a chair like a normal team member and listening. In his place was Chase, black marker in hand. It was a strange scene.

In the past, Cuddy had found it comforting to take some of his power away from House, because it always gave her the security that nothing crazy was happening in the hospital and that everyday life was going on in a regular, legal manner. Now for some reason she was sorry to see him demoted. This one time he received a penalty for a mistake he never made.

She stopped, undecided, and seemed to be waiting for the end of the differential diagnosis when she heard movement from inside the conference room. She looked up cautiously and saw House, who had raised his head and was looking directly at her. His blue eyes were unfathomable. Cuddy was disappointed to find that she found no knowledge in it. Did he really not recognize her?

An inviting nod in the direction of his office caused Cuddy to follow him as the former diagnostician straightened up and without many words entered the smaller adjoining room. Shortly afterwards, she too was standing in the office she was familiar with. The door closed noisily behind her, then there was endless silence.

Cuddy would hardly have thought it was possible that all the words, all the anger, would suddenly get stuck in her throat, but she couldn't utter a sound. The two doctors stood opposite to each other without a word, looking into each other's eyes. They both looked for answers, but neither found what they were looking for. Until Cuddy finally broke out of her freeze, took a step forward and held out her hand in greeting to House.

"Hello. I'm Lisa Cuddy," she introduced herself without taking her eyes off the doubtful blue eyes. To her surprise, House took her hand, returned the gentle pressure confidently, then released it.

"Wilson told me about you." The cold, distant words stung Cuddy painfully in the chest, but she didn't let it show how it protested inside her. How could it be that they, who had loved one another, now treated each other like strangers?

"He told me it wasn't exactly going well between us," House continued slowly as he sat on his swivel chair behind his desk and swung thoughtfully from side to side. "How it ended... what I did... I'm sorry."

Cuddy blinked slowly. Her gaze was drawn from incomprehension.

"Why are you apologizing?" she asked confused. She would have expected a lot, expected and hoped for a lot. But she never assumed an apology. How could she have asked him to apologize for something he had never done in his memories? Still he did, it was so terribly out of character for him to apologize for anything. Especially for something he couldn't identify as his fault.

House leaned back in his chair with a sigh and set the cane next to the desk.

"It must not have been easy for you to come back," he said calmly. "I'm grateful that you came anyway." Cuddy saw displeasure storm in his eyes. Although his words sounded honest, it was not easy for him to pronounce them. "I very much hope for your help."

House had always hated having to ask for help. Even now he couldn't stand having to rely on someone else. The dismissive demeanor when he spoke these words made Cuddy smile. That's how she knew him. Maybe he hadn't changed entirely after all.

She felt a heavy load fall from her shoulders as she sat down in a chair across from him. It wasn't his apology that suddenly made her feel free. In fact, she couldn't quite tell what it was.

"You can apologize when you know what for."

She watched the spark of surprise that jumped in House's face. A moment later she saw the corners of his mouth twitch mischievously. Then he started smiling. A nice, honest smile, which she only saw in times of their relationship - and even then only when they were both alone. A smile that inspired the buried love for him until her heart ached.

"Tell me a little bit about back then," House finally asked, tearing Cuddy out of her thoughts. Perplexedly she didn't know what to say for a moment, then she pushed away the looming grief.

She told of the past times when they had worked together. She consciously tried to tell stories that were as positive as possible, which underlined his genius and did not underline his mistakes - although it was not that easy. Inwardly, she was annoyed that she instinctively wanted to protect House from his past mistakes. Why did she even want him to feel good?

House listened attentively and with unmistakable curiosity in his eyes. He caught her every word but said little. Until suddenly his gaze vanished into the void and his blue eyes glazed over.

"House?"

Cuddy noticed the change immediately, stopped in the middle of a sentence and straightened up worriedly. House didn't seem to notice that she had stopped talking. His eyelids sank to half and his expression was blank.

Cuddy got up and stepped closer to him. He looked like he was going to pass out any minute, which made her heart beat faster. Did she say something wrong? What was going on all of a sudden?

She was about to turn around, rush out of the office and call someone to help, when House shook his head vigorously, as if he was waking up from a deep dream. Fully awake again, he looked at Cuddy.

"All right," he said before she could express her concern. She frowned, uncomprehending, and studied him carefully. Only then did she notice that he was smiling mischievously.

"How is Rachel doing?"

The question left her speechless and her mouth open. How…?

House grinned cheekily. There was also a faint glimmer of sadness in his eyes.

"I remembered... our relationship..." he explained. Now his voice didn't sound quite so carefree. And it wasn't so easy for Cuddy to put on a good face either.

They were silent to each other. The mood had been good, now she believed that an icy wind was blowing through the room.

"Do you miss it?"

The question caught her off guard. She looked at him uncomprehendingly, did not answer, but the answer was already clear to her. House didn't wait for her words, though.

"Why did it fail?"

She looked at him with pity. Fate played a trick on him, just giving him back the memory of their intact relationship. To keep him in the dark about its failure. And the world was playing a trick on you too, making it its business to tell him about it.

"It... just didn't work. It couldn't work in the long run," she evaded, insecure. But she'd be a fool if she thought this explanation was enough for House.

"It was the Vicodin, wasn't it?" His voice had softened. The interest and curiosity had given way. Instead, there was painful knowledge in his gaze.

"How did you come up with that?" asked Cuddy hesitantly. She didn't want to admit right away that he was right. How disappointed she'd been with his relapse. How it ruined their relationship.

House sighed heavily. He didn't look at Cuddy as he continued to speak.

"I just know," he replied flatly. "I feel like this thing ruined a lot in my life."

She didn't know how to answer that. Instead, she was reluctantly fascinated. House had never been more awake to how bad the Vicodin was for him as it was now.

"Are you still taking it?" she dared to ask. Secretly, she had already prepared for a "yes". She was all the more surprised at the answer.

"No." Lost in thought House shook his head at his answer, as if to underline it again.

In the evening, Cuddy sat alone on the bed in her hotel room and stared at the wall, lost in thought. In perfect silence she had withdrawn into the depths of her mind and thought so hard that she forgot everything else around her.

She hardly wanted to admit it, but the day with House had given her more joy than she had thought was possible. Since the incident a year ago she had never believed she could have a casual, cheerful conversation with this man. That morning she had still believed that she could not keep her unbridled anger to herself. But after the first words they had both exchanged, their hatred was completely gone.

Cuddy sighed. House wasn't entirely different, and yet the amnesia had changed him. Not necessarily on the negative side, as she thought. In fact, when she thought about it, he didn't seem all that unhappy. He was friendlier and more polite than then, almost open-minded. Talking to him had been really fun, for both of them.

She knew as soon as he would remember he would be the old, miserable House, who chased his team away and found joy in only a few things in life. For hours she had wondered if his memories were worth the change. Whether it was the right thing to do, to fight his amnesia at all, or whether it was a gift from fate to finally ease his difficult life and give him peace.

And somewhere deep down in her heart there was that little spark of hope, too. In the depths of her mind was the small voice that asked: Could it work out this time?