A/N: Merry Christmas to all, and may we all have a better 2021 than we had 2020.

(H/C)

Getting out of the car was the first obstacle. No, actually leaving the hospital had been just as hard. Cuddy had been in a wheelchair, of course, being wheeled by a nurse across the lobby and out the doors to the car in the circle per hospital policy. She approved of the policy, understood the liability reasons for it, and now, facing it from the other side, she hated it. This was her workplace, where everyone knew her, where she was the supervisor, and she had been wheeled across the lobby like any patient. Every set of employed eyes fixed on her, then looked away. They didn't stare, at least, but Cuddy was sure that this story had already blazed around the hospital grapevine. No doubt even the janitors and the cooks in the kitchen knew that she had slipped on the stairs, had a clumsy fall in front of everybody, and broken her ankle.

Now she was home, facing her second gauntlet, an entirely different one but no easier than the first. House had driven her SUV back after his trip yesterday to fetch the girls, leaving the Camaro parked in the garage, and she was grateful for it as she extricated herself. His car was a little too low for comfort, even when you were uninjured. Right now, she was glad of the height of hers, but even so, the crutches were unfamiliar, she felt like her foot was in a bucket of cement, and she was also already worn out from this day. Surgery this morning, then this afternoon had come the PT consult and mobility assessment. She was ready to crawl into bed, pull the covers into a hole after her, and not emerge for the next six weeks.

But she couldn't, of course. The girls were waiting and concerned. She had to reassure them. House was hovering at her elbow, trying to support her without being too pushy about it, and she needed to reassure him, too. She could handle this.

She hoped.

The door opened before she got there, naturally, and here were the girls almost vibrating with repressed concern. They stayed back out of the way, but they were clearly just waiting for an opportunity to climb in her lap. Marina, hovering slightly behind them, had a worried look, too.

"I'm home," Cuddy announced with artificial brightness. "Everything went fine at the hospital. Now it's just a matter of getting better." She hobbled awkwardly to the couch on her crutches, then settled down. House helped her put her foot on a pillow, reminding her of all the times she had done that for him with his leg. Then the girls were free to climb onto her, which they did, snuggling in closely. Belle appeared from cat warp, sniffed her up and down with concern, then inspected the cast again, her ears flattening. She hissed. Cuddy gave one of her first genuine smiles of the day. Exactly. The cat was quite eloquent at times.

"I have dinner all ready for you," Marina said. "I'll be leaving you alone now, but if you all need any help this weekend, just let me know."

"We'll be fine, Marina. Thank you."

Rachel nodded. "Daddy's going to help her get better now."

House flinched. "Rachel, I told you, she needs a different kind of doctor. He fixed her this morning."

Rachel looked over the cast. "He didn't do a good job. You could do better."

"Goodbye, Dr. Cuddy, Dr. House. Goodbye, girls." Marina melted away discreetly, leaving the family alone. Cuddy sighed. House turned briskly toward the kitchen, a little too briskly, and flinched as he tweaked his leg slightly at it. Cuddy fought down the impulse to ask if he was all right. Belle looked from one to the other of them, then settled down against, not on top of, Cuddy's leg.

The food at least distracted the girls somewhat. Cuddy wasn't that hungry, but she ate just to satisfy House, whom she knew was watching her like a hawk. After that, he played piano for all of them, and the music slowly began to smooth out the knots of the last two days. By the time the girls were tucked in bed, Cuddy had actually relaxed a little.

Getting ready for bed herself wound her up again. She felt impossibly stiff and awkward, as if her whole side, not just the ankle, were encased in plaster. Undressing, going to the bathroom, even getting in bed were all exercises in difficulty. Through it all, House was there, never pushing too much, just watching, but she knew he was as keyed up as she was. She was sure that he and Thomas both had been basket cases waiting during her surgery. For Thomas, once he was reassured that she was safely through the operation, it had all been all right. For House, he was still on edge.

"Here you go." He brought her pills and a small glass of water, again reminding her of all the times that task had been reversed. "You need a good night's sleep. It is feeling better, though, isn't it?"

"Yes," she assured him. "The pain is a whole lot better now that it's set, just like you said. It's aching but not too badly. It just feels heavy more than anything."

"You'll get a lot better at maneuvering in a few days. It won't stay like it is tonight."

"I hope not." She swallowed the pills and drained the water. "Greg?"

"What?" He looked back over at her, and she studied his eyes.

"Call Jensen tonight once I'm asleep, okay? It will help you to talk to him."

"I'm going to talk to you before I go through everything with him," he countered.

She actually hadn't even been thinking about whatever it was that was bothering him since lunch yesterday. Not right then, at least, though she had wondered a few times over the last day. "That isn't what I meant. Just in general. About me getting hurt. Talk to Jensen, okay?"

He relented. "I actually told him when I texted him earlier after the surgery that I might call him tonight." She seized on that as he had known she would, proof that this situation really had scared and unsettled him. "Might," he emphasized. "I said I might call him tonight. Stop thinking that proves something about how I'm handling things."

She smiled. "I'm glad. And yes, we can talk to each other, too, about my ankle and about whatever else there is. But not tonight. I'm just exhausted for some reason." She settled back into the sheets, enjoying it. Hospital sheets never felt like home sheets.

"You've had a rough day." He sat down on the bed on her side and picked up her hand, playing with the fingers. "It's going to be okay, Lisa."

"Eventually." Those weeks ahead suddenly enlarged again, looming over her.

"Eventually in this case isn't too far away."

"I hope it isn't." Slowly, she drifted off into sleep, carried into rest by his warm presence and the white cat's purr.