STEP INTO MY OFFICE, BABY
by Mickie; 05.10.29
CHAPTER IV: Science of Your Mind
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Cuddy watched the elevator doors slide open slowly, revealing Gregory House on the other side. She flashed him a big, closed-mouth smile as she entered the elevator – the kind she only used for him; an authoritative alternative to an audible greeting. She stood next to him and saw the floor she wanted was already lit up on the panel.
"Ooh, quick, where's the emergency stop button so we can have hot, kinky elevator sex!" House yelled loudly just before the elevator doors slid closed, locking away the hubbub of the busy hospital hallway.
"And you wonder why everyone thinks we've slept together?" Cuddy rolled her eyes, which were loosely focused on some papers she had in a file in her hands.
"No, really, where is it? You know, in case of fire or something," House playfully studied the panel on Cuddy's side of the elevator.
"There's only one thing that's burning up in here," she teased.
"I know you want me," House replied softly, sardonically, his eyes looking at the ceiling self-assuredly.
They rode up the remaining few floors in a comfortable silence. House would never admit that spending time with Cuddy could be considered comfortable, but there it was. They had known each other for a long time, used to be close friends. They had drifted apart since she became his boss, since Stacy had come along all those years ago, since the infarction… especially since the infarction. But there were moments when it felt like old times, when they were speaking cordially, teasing but never cruel, or just existing in the same space together. It was nice. Cuddy had mourned the loss of their friendship, and still did. With House, she didn't have to pretend to be someone different, he knew her too well for her to trick him and she didn't feel that she had to anyway. She skimmed through the file in front of her, not really concentrating, knowing she would have to re-read it in her office in a few minutes.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened. They both exited, heading in opposite directions. Cuddy stopped in the hall and looked at House. "Dr. House, the clinic is this way," she said patronizingly, like one would remind a child.
"Thanks for the info," House said over his shoulder and continued going his way.
"You are going to do your two hours today in the clinic, aren't you?" she prodded.
"Yes, yes, but a man needs sustenance first," House pulled his empty Vicodin bottle out of his jacket pocket and held it up before turning back down the hall. Cuddy's eyes flew to the signs on the wall – the pharmacy was that way. She sighed, fighting a sudden shot of guilt but remaining gloomy, and continued on her way to her office.
With a striking thought, Cuddy passed by the nurses station to collect her mail. There was probably something important in the hearty stack that had arrived fresh that morning. She hoped, as she did everyday, that every letter was an offer from a potential donor or sponsor but she knew that wasn't the case; she was lucky if one letter a week was along those lines. Bills, legal documentation, price quotes, supply memos, interoffice communication, legal bills, legal quotes, legal memos, legal communication… Stacy had been useful for more than keeping Greg House occupied during her term at Princeton-Plainsboro, Cuddy thought to herself as she glanced through her mail. The hospital had a legal department, a team of highly-trained, highly-schooled, highly-conservative lawyers, chomping at the bit to tackle the hospital's many cases, the more outlandish ones brought on by House, of course. "He was so callous but he saved me", "he treated me with drugs without my knowledge", "he with-held my prescription to test a theory"… but they all lived to write about it, Cuddy half-smiled, her gaze low on the floor as she walked the rest of the way to her office, closing the glass door behind her as if it were a shield to keep the rest of the world at bay.
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"I'm sorry, Dr. House, but there is a hold on your prescription – I can't refill it," the young pharmacist said, glancing up from his computer screen, eyes wide and scared, though trying hard not to be.
House was stunned. "What- how- who put the hold on?"
"Dr. Cuddy did first thing this morning," the young man replied, with conviction.
"Really," It was not a question. "Well, okay, thanks, be seein' ya."
The young pharmacist visibly relaxed, but was worried that House's retreating form would suddenly turn around and smack him with his cane. He watched as House disappeared from sight down the hall, blending into the steady traffic of the hallway.
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"Cuddy did what?"
"She cut me loose, threw me to the dogs, left me in the dust," House reiterated.
"I can't believe she would do that, especially on such short notice. As far as I knew, everything was normal, or what passes for normal around here," Wilson ran a hand over his face, surprised and sympathetic to his friend.
"I need you to write me a script," House stared at the floor of Wilson's office between his shoes.
"You thinking of going Hollywood on us?"
"Ha-ha, you know what I mean," House absently twirled his cane in his right hand, his gaze unmoving.
"I don't think it's a good idea for you to have a full prescription right now," Wilson eyed House's dejected form warily.
"Then just give me a few to get by," House finally looked Wilson in the eye. He would not plead.
Wilson sighed and closed his eyes. It was unethical, he knew.
"Here's some paper," House tossed the prescription pad at Wilson, who caught it, "Writey, writey." House mimed the action.
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Just as Cuddy finished opening, reading, considering, and responding to her mail, her secretary knocked on the door and delivered a memo. It was from the pharmacy: House had tried twice to renew his Vicodin, and twice was denied. It was what she had wanted to hear but she was not happy to hear it. She suspected he had a few hidden away in hiding places, for 'just in case' times, but they wouldn't last him very long. Part of her wanted to give in, give him what he wanted, if only to keep him from further pain, more pain than he had to feel, thanks to modern medicine… thanks to her. But she had to be strong, she had to do what was best for the hospital and for him, ultimately, though he had never realized that's what she had done on so many occasions before. She hoped he would forgive her when it was all over. The last thing she needed from him was more resentment.
She rested her chin in her hands and let the memo fall on her desk unceremoniously.Cuddy thanked her secretary for the memo and instructed her not to let House through to see her if he came by. She knew it was pointless, he would push his way past anyway, but she also knew that he wouldn't crawl back to her for a little while yet; his pride would not allow it. It provided her a small respite before the storm she knew would be a fierce one.
----------------tbc.
A/N: We'll get to court soon enough, shush! I'm trying to be all clever-like and weave different plotlines together into a big, mushy string of logic and angsty hotness, okay? Let me know how I'm doing so far. Thanks again for the reviews on the last chapter; they really push me on (or not). :D