Cuddy lay in bed, listening to Dr. Brown and her husband go over the x-rays together but not contributing much to the discussion. She had been moved to a private room by now, and they had once again offered her pain meds. She once again postponed them, but she could tell her ability to hold out on that wasn't limitless. The pain sometimes throbbed, sometimes chewed, once in a while faked out retreating only to snap sharply again. It was like a living animal, and she was already exhausted from bracing herself against it. Still, she knew from a few past injuries that narcotics did make her a little fuzzy, and she needed to participate, at least to some extent, in the conversations with Thomas and with the girls. That would help reassure them.

Brown nodded. "I agree. We could try closed reduction, but with the slight displacement, screwing it together would help and especially would make a faster return to activity."

Cuddy perked up a little. "How much faster?" she asked, just hoping, though not expecting, for a different answer.

"Six weeks totally nonweightbearing," Brown said. "Then you'd be stiff and working back into motion. Probably three months until anything like normal, I'd say." Cuddy sighed. "That's an excellent recovery time for a broken ankle. This is a nice clean break. Things could have been much worse."

She knew that, but at the moment, she was having trouble seeing it. "Okay," she agreed. "When can you operate?"

"Tomorrow would be better. I'd recommend keeping you hospitalized tonight on strict elevation and ice to bring the initial swelling down."

Stubbornness made a feeble comeback. "Why can't I go home? I can elevate and ice it there just as well."

Brown hesitated there, and House obligingly gave the answer for him. "You could, but you wouldn't, Lisa. You'd keep trying to move at home and be worrying about things in the evening routine not being done, even with all of us helping you. Just lying there still and doing absolutely nothing isn't in your personality, and at home, it would be worse." Brown nodded, glad that he hadn't been the one to have to make that point. He knew Cuddy well as an administrator, of course, and easily could plug in the attitude for himself.

She was still gathering herself to dispute that assessment (though she knew it was right) when House continued with a second point she hadn't even thought of. "Also, Lisa, keep in mind, it's hurting right now as much as it's going to. Once the break is fixed and screwed together, the pain will be less almost immediately. Tonight, the girls would be seeing it at its worst point. They're old enough that we can't keep this from them, but tonight, I don't think they need the whole evening to see how much it would stab you every movement. Even with pain meds. Tomorrow on, postop, will be much better. Tonight, they can visit briefly, but I don't think they need the several-hour demonstration. And you would be trying to do things at home, which would only make the pain worse."

She sighed again. All that made perfect sense, and the fact that she didn't like it didn't change matters. "All right," she agreed. "I'll stay here. But we do need to let the girls get in a visit, even if just a short one. And Thomas."

Brown pulled the x-rays off the wall. "I'll get you on the surgery schedule for first thing tomorrow morning. Meanwhile, remember, Dr. Cuddy, the less you move tonight, the better shape that ankle will be in for the surgery. Also, I'd remind you, it's better to accept a pain pill early than let the pain get ahead of you." On that note, he left the room, gladly handing off that battle to House.

"It's a valid point, Lisa," House said. "The longer you wait, the worse it gets. Pain can be relentless, and it wears you down."

"Greg?" she asked. He came over right up to the bedside and picked up her hand. "Will it really hurt less immediately after surgery?"

"Yes. Once the bone is set and fixed, there will be noticeable improvement. Of course, the incision will hurt some, but that will be small. The fracture itself will improve in how it feels pretty quickly, and internal fixation will speed that up. It isn't going to be like this for the whole six weeks."

She squeezed his hand. She felt a little awkward discussing this subject with him, because of course, she couldn't help thinking of the elephant in the room, that his own pain was only able to be somewhat controlled, not removed, and his leg would never heal. In a way, she felt guilty by being worn down by her own temporary, limited discomfort.

He heard the thought, of course, and his lips tightened a little, but he did answer. "It's okay, Lisa," he said. "This is an acute injury. It's all right to give yourself permission to hurt. This isn't a - a competition."

She knew that, but she also knew that as bad as she felt right now, if it were a competition, he would have her beat, hands down. No contest. "I'll take a pain pill, but we need to call Thomas and the girls first. It will help them to hear from me."

He pulled out his cell phone. "I'll call them. You can participate, but you don't have to take the whole conversation." He dialed Thomas first, putting it on speaker phone as the ring started. She was grateful to him for that; she would have been filling in the other side in imagination herself anyway.

Thomas answered promptly. "Good morning, Greg."

"Not really," House replied. "We've got a problem here, old man."

His father shifted into concern immediately. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, but Lisa fell this morning at the hospital and broke her ankle. Simple break. She's going to be fine."

"She fell? Why? The weather, of course; damn this ice. I was worried any-" He bit off the end of that final word, obviously having been worried about his son walking in this weather, not about his daughter-in-law, but also aware that his son wasn't likely to appreciate that statement. "She's going to be okay, though? You said a simple break." His words were pushed together, unlike his usual smooth speech.

"I'm here, Thomas," Cuddy called, trying to make her voice as upbeat and positive and as usual as she could. "I'm going to be fine."

"Lisa? Are you sure? Did-" Thomas caught himself. "Of course you saw a doctor. So the doctor thinks it's going to heal up fine?"

House answered. "She'll be on crutches for six weeks, probably. She's going to need a small operation tomorrow morning." He tried to make it sound routine himself, which it actually medically was, but he still had some tightness in his voice anyway. Procedures were only routine if they were done on somebody else's family.

"She needs an operation?" Thomas' tension level doubled.

"A small, simple operation. Really, old man. She's going to be fine."

"I'd - can I come see you?"

"Sure. Room 232. But take it easy getting here, old man. She is going to be fine. I'm the top doc, and I said so, so it's settled."

The weak pun on House's personalized license plate on the Camaro fell flat. "I'll be right there." Thomas hung up, and House and Cuddy looked at each other.

"That could have gone better," she said, mentally cursing her carelessness once again.

"He's had a lot of bad news calls," House pointed out. "He'll start to settle down when he can actually see you. Meanwhile, Lisa, I really think we should postpone telling the girls for a few hours. They aren't worrying; they don't have any idea something's happened. But let the old man get reassured first, and then he can help us with them later on. Also, would you please take a pain pill? Or at least half of one? You're all braced in that bed, trying to anticipate the pain waves, and you aren't going to reassure him too much at the moment, because he'll see that."

"It makes me feel a little fuzzy," she protested. She never got goofy on narcotics like some people did, but she did feel like there was a gauze layer between her and the world.

"Which would be an improvement," House pointed out. "Lisa, you can't hide anything from him. Or from me. Please, for us, even if you won't do it for you. We can deal with the girls in a few hours."

Reluctantly, she hit the nurse call button.