Rediscovery

By Ellie

Disclaimer: See first chapter

Chapter Two

House sat at the piano as he pondered the weather outside. He ran his hand through his already rumpled hair and glared at the snow. It wasn't so much that he had big plans for his day, but he hated that the choice of doing anything had been taken away from him.

House sighed as he took a sip of his coffee and then continued to play the piano. His hands lightly caressed the keys as he thought about his vacation so far. He was strangely proud of the fact that this was the beginning of his third day off, and he hadn't gotten blindingly drunk. He'd had a drink or two, of course, but the first time that Stacy had left he had spent the next few days in an alcoholic daze followed by the mother of all hangovers.

This time, though, was different. He didn't feel like he had to drink to escape from the pain of her being gone. That wasn't to say that Stacy leaving again didn't hurt. It did. But it was a clean pain. The kind of pain that accompanies healing. He knew that they had made the right decision for both of them. She deserved to be with someone who could put her first. House hadn't been able to do that even before the infarction.

He thought back to their relationship. Surprisingly, he and Stacy had been quite the power couple when they were together. They were both hard working professionals who loved to play in their limited free time. The weekends that they didn't work were spent going out on the town. Stacy had always been dragging him to one function or another. He hadn't liked it, but he had gone to them for her.

But if something ever came up at work, she was left to fend by herself. He remembered one case where he had stayed at the hospital for three days straight as he tried to diagnose a patient. He had talked to her a couple of times on the phone, but his mind was never fully with her. He knew that she resented his ability to separate himself so completely from her.

He was, if anything, more obsessed with his work now, and the idea of spending his free time at fundraisers or cocktail parties made him cringe. The past few years had completely robbed him of what little patience he had with social niceties to begin with.

He would have had to change for Stacy to stay with him, and he really had no desire to change. Not even for her.

House's stomach made a gurgling noise, and he looked up to check the clock. It was definitely past time for breakfast. He grabbed his cane and began to make his way to the kitchen when he heard a knock at his door. Surprised, he stared at it for a moment, trying to deduce who could be at his door in the middle of a blizzard. Wilson? Could be, even though House had told him that he wanted to be alone. Cameron? Another possibility. She would want to do the Florence Nightingale thing and make sure that he was taking care of himself. The unknown visitor knocked again – this time more insistently. House shook himself out of his reverie and limped his way to the door and opened it.

To say that he was shocked by what he saw would have been an understatement. Dr. Lisa Cuddy stood at his door bundled up like an Eskimo with a bag slung over each shoulder.

"Close your mouth and let me in," she ordered in her best administrative voice. House was so surprised that he complied without saying anything.

"I can't feel my face anymore," Cuddy exclaimed as she slowly made her way to his couch and sat down.

House closed the door and followed her into his living room.

"Cuddy?"

"Yes."

"There's a blizzard going on."

She stared at him in disbelief. "Gee, really? Is that what all of that snow means? I'm so glad that you're here to explain these things to me," she replied in a cutting voice.

House ignored her sarcasm. "Cuddy, what are you doing here, in my house, during my vacation, in the middle of a blizzard, with an overnight bag? I mean if you finally want to have that Sex-Olympics weekend that we've been discussing, then you really should have given me some more warning. My whips need to be oiled, and my chains are in the shop."

"Shut up, House," Cuddy said as she tried to control her temper. She wondered if taking her chances with the neighbors might have been the better move. "I was trying to get to the hospital before the storm got too bad, and I was making a turn and something ran out in front of me. I braked, skidded, lost control of the car and hit a lamppost. My car is pretty much totaled, and you were only a block away. Believe me, only the thought of imminent death could make me violate your 'sanctuary' like this."

House wrinkled his forehead and an expression of concern flashed across his face for a moment, but then it was gone. "You were in an accident?"

"I'm fine," she responded. "Just some scrapes and bruises. My wrists are slightly burned from the airbag, and I'm a bit sore, but otherwise I'm fine."

"Tell me, do you get a big bonus at the end of the year for acts of stupidity on behalf of the hospital's welfare?" House asked bitingly as he sat down next at her and gently held her chin with his fingers so that he could get a better look at her injuries. Cuddy, ignoring his remark, jerked away and swatted his hand.

"I told you, I'm fine."

House's eyes narrowed as he grasped her chin once more. Cuddy raised her hand again, but was surprised when he smacked her hand first.

"Cuddy, you and I both know that it is very difficult to inspect yourself after an accident. Now you can either argue with me and drag this out over the next half an hour, or you can just get it over with, but I am going to examine you."

Cuddy glared at him a moment before crossing her arms in front of her and spurting out, "Fine."

House's amusement at her anger battled with his own annoyance at her careless actions. He always found stupidity irksome, but stupidity in normally intelligent people was particularly galling -- especially when that stupidity threatened to inconvenience him over the next few days. He ignored her angry stare as he inspected her injuries. She was right. They were mostly superficial, but the chemical burns on her wrists had to be painful.

He shifted his attention from her hands to her feet and began to take her boots off.

"What are you doing?" she asked as she jerked her feet away from him.

"Indulging in my foot fetish," he replied. "You just walked at least a block in sub-zero temperatures. I'm just making sure your feet are okay," he said in the same tone of voice that he used when he was explaining something to a particularly dense patient.

"They're fine, House."

"Cuddy, you're not going to make me repeat myself, are you?" They stared dangerously at each other again, but Cuddy knew that she wouldn't have any kind of peace until he looked at her feet. She silently acquiesced and he continued to take off her boots and socks so that he could inspect her toes. He smiled at her red toenails.

"You know what they say about women who paint their toenails red?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

"That they're more likely to kick cripples who are making smart remarks instead of looking for frostbite?" Cuddy quipped back.

"I'm a good little multi-tasker. I can do both," he assured her. "Your toes are fine, but don't move," he ordered. He got up, grabbed his cane and headed for his kitchen. He came back shortly with a black medical bag and pulled out some burn ointment. Cuddy stared at the bag in surprise and then began to chuckle.

House looked into Cuddy's face as he tried to figure out what was so funny and saw her staring at his bag.

"Yes?" he asked a bit defensively.

"I'm sorry," she replied unapologetically, "but you are the last doctor I would ever imagine having one of those old fashioned medical bags. Doctors usually used them when they went to see patients, you know, in person."

House sighed as he looked down and continued to apply the ointment. "It was a present from my mom when I graduated from Medical School. I don't want to just leave it empty and lying around so I keep my first-aid stuff in it."

Cuddy stared at his down turned head and felt a surprising burst of tenderness. There was something very sweet about him sometimes. Of course, the other ninety-nine percent of the time he was annoying enough to induce a homicidal rage.

House looked up when she didn't say anything and she fought for a neutral expression. She wasn't sure that she was entirely successful, but House – miraculously – didn't say anything. He finished applying the ointment. "You should change out of those wet clothes into something more comfortable. Perhaps a little satin and lace?" he leered as he began to put away his supplies.

Cuddy ignored his suggestive remark. "I need to use your phone," she told him. "I have to call the police and let them know about the accident, and then I need to call the hospital and find out what's going on."

"Phone's over there," House pointed to the coffee table as he left the room.

Cuddy actually called the hospital first, unable to wait any longer to find out what was going on there. She managed to talk to Wilson who assured her that everything was running smoothly.

"It's actually really dead here," he said. "The blizzard is keeping all of the hypochondriacs indoors. Right now we're working with the police on a way of getting dialysis patients here for their treatment, but I think we've got a handle on it."

"Good," she said and hesitated a moment. She debated telling Wilson where she was, but decided that she didn't want to deal with any more rumors at the hospital than she had to. "If you need me, page me," she told him and hung up.

She then called the police department to report her accident and to see if there was any possibility of getting a ride to the hospital.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but right now it's really not safe for us to be running a chauffer service," the man answered a bit snarkily. Cuddy rolled her eyes in annoyance, but managed not to lose her temper.

"I understand," she told him.

"You are in a safe place, correct ma'am?" the officer asked.

"Yes, I'm staying with a … colleague," she answered and gave him House's number and told him to let her know if some sort of driving service got started to take doctors to the hospital.

She hung up and stared at the phone a moment. She had been very close to saying that she was staying with a friend, but something inside her had balked at using that word to describe her current relationship with House. They used to be friends. And although things had been friendlier between them lately, she couldn't let herself forget that House had ended their real friendship after the infarction. She would never forget the look of angry betrayal that he had given her when he realized what she and Stacy had done. After that, she had merely been his colleague and boss.

She turned around and saw House standing at the entrance to the kitchen. She gave him a sad smile.

"I'm sorry, I was hoping that they could send someone out here to get me and take me to the hospital, but apparently, I'm not critical," she said sardonically.

House didn't even try to hide his smile at her statement. "Obviously they don't realize that the hospital would cease to exist if you weren't there to micromanage every single detail. How many rolls of toilet paper are there in the third floor women's bathroom?"

She gave him a dirty look even as she fought to hide her amusement at his statement. "I'm going to go change," she told him as she went to grab her bag. She was beginning to get sore from the accident, and Cuddy wondered if House had any non-narcotic painkillers.

"Bathroom's that way," he pointed to a door. She nodded and headed in that direction.

"Cuddy …"

She turned around. He just stood there looking at her with a serious expression on his face, but he didn't say anything.

"House?" she prodded.

He shook his head and looked away. "Let me know if you need anything," he finally said.

She stared at him a moment before nodding her head and continuing on her way, but she had the distinct feeling that he had wanted to tell her something completely different.

A/N: Please R/R. Thanks to all who reviewed the first chapter.