A Ride (Post-Eppie to "All In") (T)
DJ Dubois
April 2006

Notes: The characters from "House MD" belong to Universal and its other copyright holders.

Chapter 1 [Lobby—Sunrise after "All In"]

It had been quite the night at Princeton Plainsboro Hospital—quite the schizophrenic one actually. In the lobby, the doctors had participated in a charity Vegas night, playing themselves ragged at the poker tables for a good cause. Upstairs, however, other doctors had labored to save a boy named Ian from an insidious killer.

One man had bridged both sides…Dr. Greg House, man of many talents and the ability to get under anyone's skin with any of them. He had started the night on the "lower side," playing poker and getting into some sort of verbal judo match with his boss, Dr. Lisa Cuddy.

But then, he was called away, an old nemesis challenging him to a rematch….

…And House never lost twice to any adversary.

Despite maintaining a tenuous balance that evening, when two schizophrenic sides collide, the sparks ignite….

….In that case, Cuddy discovered what he was doing, ordering him away.

…Of course, with an insane dose of Lady Luck, he saved the boy.

All was right with the world. Or was it?

Wilson had left House to salvage some shut eye before their shift later. While he was glad that the former's suggestion had helped him, House bristled at the suggestion that he was "lucky". I work all damn night and he calls me lucky! I saved the kid and bailed his sorry ass out at the table. I'm not lucky. He shook his head while stalking around the lobby, thinking what to do next.

To soothe his feelings, he sat down at the piano and let his fingers caress the keys, casting him into his own personal nirvana.

Under his direction, the piano sang Mozart, Brahms and Haydn, serenading the area with sweet sounds.

To the custodians and first shift coming in, they were taken aback by this display. They knew the diagnostician as a knowledgeable yet crass co-worker. Needless to say, the connection between beauty and beast in him proved difficult to understand.

But House didn't care. He just played, calming his own jangled nerves. Savoring his triumphs.

Then his mind went back to the table. He saw her again: his boss…no not his boss…at least not after hours.

She was wearing that light blue evening dress that accentuated her charms.

Her eyes sparkled daringly at him across the table; her tone daring him onward.

On the surface, it was about the card game.

Below, it was their game: the long standing game between them.

Some day, Cuddy, I will call. And you'll answer. Count on that. He smirked momentarily, spooking the intrusive rabble watching him.

But the piano sang onward…..

Chapter 2 [Upstairs—Ian's Room]

Even as the compulsive maestro played and dreamed, Cuddy watched as her young patient slept peacefully. She sighed, thinking of the previous night's ordeal. He almost died. How could I have been so careless to get wrapped up and drunk like that?

Fortunately, the boy's vitals were getting stronger by the second.

She bit her lip thinking of how Death had been close twice in just under a month. In an earlier case, her diagnosis would have killed a girl with extreme allergies. During the previous night, her obsession with poker overrode her common sense.

Fortunately, House bailed her (and the hospital) out both times.

She frowned, not believing she had to concede those points to him. How does he know exactly when to step in, upset the apple cart and get the job done? And while helping Wilson to kick my ass no less downstairs. She rolled her eyes. Damn it, House!

"D…doctor?"

She noticed Ian's eyes opening. "Yes, Ian? How are you doing?"

"Tired, Ma 'am, and a little scared. Am I gonna be okay?" he asked nervously.

She smiled warmly. "Yes, Ian. You're going to be great. We're going to take good care of you."

"Can I get some water please?"

She nodded and poured some water from the pitcher at his bedside into a plastic cup. "Absolutely." She handed it to him. "Drink this and then I need you to get some rest. Okay?"

"Okay. I hope my Mom's going to be back soon," he agreed, taking the drink. After he finished, he set the cup on the nightstand. "Thanks. Doctor, what's with the tall guy? Why's he so sad?"

Tall guy? He must mean House! House, you better not have scared him! She took a deep breath. "Well, Ian, he had a lot on his mind trying to make you better. You're getting over a bad disease. Dr. House wanted to get you all better. When he's working, he's really determined."

Ian nodded as he pulled the covers up to his chin. "Tell him thanks...and that he's not so bad." With that, he went to sleep.

She felt a bit of relief washing over her. Out of the mouths of babes. She stifled a chuckle, anticipating what House's reaction would be when he found out that their patient had seen right through his act. Amazing. She sighed again and left the room.

It had been a long night and she needed some sleep…..

Chapter 3
[Lobby—ten minutes later]

After leaving a message for her office assistant that the doctors connected to Ian's case would be in late, she rode the elevator downstairs. Sleep….

She felt herself drifting off. In a daydream, she saw the poker game again.

And House sitting there, cocky as Hell and smoking that fat stogie.

That obnoxious smirk daring her to fold or call on her hand.

His eyes locking into hers….with occasional forays to their usual lower destination.

If you watched your cards as much as my chest, you'd be doing better, House!

She winced. "Great. I dared him to beat me long distance." That thought made her shudder. He really knows me that well! She snorted. There's really nothing to it. There can't be!

As the doors opened, she heard piano music and saw a crowd congregating in front of her. "What the Hell?" She rushed out of the elevator. "Who would be…?"

Then she saw House playing; his eyes closed to everything and his senses ignoring the world around him. Not that it was a surprise, mind you. She knew he did this in private.

But to give a public performance like this?

I really should kick him off but he's so engrossed. Not seeing Wilson anywhere around, she guessed, He must have left House. Great. She checked her watch and looked at the hospital staff. At least they see he's not a total jerk. In spite of herself, she made herself stay to listen.

He was so happy and enthused for once.

She couldn't take that away from him. In fact, for some reason, she failed to put the "Cold Cuddy" mask on in front of the staff. She didn't care for once.

As if sensing her presence, the piano's song turned into a siren call, beckoning her closer. The music floated to her ear and brought forth her deep feelings for him.

Almost absently, she started toward him, forgetting about the crowd. Her mind, like his, was flying somewhere else.

Seeing her, the crowd parted like the Red Sea, both allowing her to pass and trying to figure out the scene developing in front of them.

Still he played on; the tune now a Beethoven symphony but the effect remained the same.

Reaching the piano, she leaned against it, feeling the notes soothing her now too. She studied his face—both intense and relaxed in a seemingly impossible paradox.

As he played, a smile crossed his face and he whispered thinking himself alone. "Cuddy."

She arched her eyebrow. Only she had heard him but that was enough for her to respond, "Yes?"

Hearing her voice, he stopped abruptly and looked around. "Shit!"

"Does the word 'busted' mean anything, House?" his boss cracked, leaning over and locking eyes with him.

"Great. Pearls before swine," he groused, thinking of the group as a whole.

Cuddy couldn't help but laugh. "Careful, House." She motioned with her eyes toward her chest.

He rolled his eyes, not believing that she was scoring points at will against him in that verbal duel. "Don't get too high on yourself, Cuddy. I'm having a bad day."

"Are you? House, you beat the disease that's haunted you for 12 years. Ian's okay. You gave the hospital quite a show," she pointed out. She leaned close to his ear and whispered, "Ian says thanks…and so do I. Thank you."

Seeing the eyes around them watching, he squirmed. "That's it." He stood and braced himself on his cane, preparing to limp out the door.

She put her hand on his shoulder. "Any idea where you're going?"

"Home. Some of us do sleep." He narrowed his eyes. "Of course, your numbers keep you going, Cuddy."

"Surprise. I do sleep too but I also need to eat. Come on; let's do breakfast," she invited.

"All right, you talked me into it," he conceded, trying to keep his sour puss mask on even though he was really psyched by this whole thing.

As they walked out, the crowd applauded.

"Yeah, yeah…glad you liked it. That'll be the last time," he groused.

"I hope not," Cuddy disagreed while taking his hand.

"Hey! What the Hell is this?" he demanded.

"Oh shut up, House!" she instructed, heading for her Lexus and pulling him along. Opening the door, she urged, "Don't spoil the mood for once. Please?" Once sure that the tint on her windows would hide it, she leaned over and kissed him. "There." She grinned before gunning the motor and driving them away.

As they crossed the bridge into West Princeton, he stared at her. "What's going on, Cuddy?"

"I told you. We're doing breakfast…." She smirked at him as they turned into her driveway. "Then we're calling in sick."

He sniggered, "What about the hospital? However will it survive without you?"

"As someone once told me, the numbers will sustain it for a day." She looked at him pointedly.

"But, Mom, my boss—she's really mean. She's liable to give me more clinic hours if I play hooky!" he retorted.

"I'll write you a note." She kissed him again, allowing him to look down her dress as she did so. "We have a duet to play today, now don't we?"

"You drive a tough bargain," he rebutted albeit not with any resistance.

"Remember breakfast with me and the twins are thrown in," she slurred suggestively while getting out of the car. Then she opened the door for him. "Come on."

He smirked. Oh yeah. Show time! They walked in together….

And the music started again…and played on…and on.

Conclusion [Next Day]

After making sure Steve's food and water weren't too badly depleted, House rode his motorcycle over to the hospital and parked it in the usual place. He limped into the lobby, feeling the eyes of the other faculty and staff glued to him. "Oh now what?"

"That was quite a show you put on from what I understand," Wilson remarked while walking over to him from the clinic. "Sorry I missed it."

"Hey, you slept through it. Sucks to be you," House assessed.

The oncologist frowned. "Yes, it does. But it gave me a chance to realize something." He pulled a thin paperback out of his satchel. "This guy agrees with you."

"Machiavelli, huh?" House considered his roommate, feeling even more impressed by the latter's continued desire to even the score ever so slightly. "Good book."

"I figured he's someone you could understand…at least on some level," Wilson jabbed.

House glared at him; the amusement clearly wearing off. "Your point is, Wilson?"

"Man makes his own luck. You did that the last two days. Good job," the other concluded before returning to the clinic.

"I could've told him that." House rode the elevator upstairs to his office. "Time to bring the crew back under control." He saw the three younger doctors sitting with Cuddy in his office. "Now what?" He limped into the area. "Can't leave you guys alone for five minutes, can I?"

"We'd say the same," Chase teased before the combined authoritarian glares shut him up.

Foreman shook his head. "Leave it alone, Chase. That was some piano playing the other night."

"Refreshed and ready for our next case, are we?" Cameron interjected, feeling a bit steamed at what she presumed happened.

House shook his head. "Oh I'm always ready. Bring 'em on, Cameron."

Cuddy chuckled. "Then I guess you're ready for another stint in the clinic." She looked at him expectantly. "Come on. Let's go." She motioned for him to go.

He grimaced. "Aw come on, Cuddy. We have cases."

She glanced at him sarcastically. "I know what you have…a case of boredom. Do a couple of cases." Once out of sight of the Ducklings, she slipped him a piece of paper and smirked mischievously. "You know what to do." Then she left.

He waited until he got into the elevator. Once inside, he opened the paper to read:

"Greg,

Thanks for the symphonies here and at home! Do this clinic duty for me and we'll play another concert this weekend. ;)

Lisa"

In spite of himself, he grinned. The previous day had been surprisingly wonderful.

And the promise of that could make even clinic duty palatable for him…..quite palatable indeed.

THE END