STEP INTO MY OFFICE, BABY
by Mickie; 06.04.14

CHAPTER V: A Small Respite

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It was Tuesday again and Wilson hadn't seen House come out of his office all day. Whenever he passed by, he would see House either sitting and staring at the wall or writing something, obviously putting a lot of thought into whatever it was. It was strange behaviour for House who would usually be hiding in the clinic to avoid doing clinic duty, not hiding in his office in plain sight. Wilson supposed House wasn't thinking clearly.

And he wasn't – the realization that his prescription had been cut off at the source hitting him fully. The days since the realization all seemed to blend together into one mass of endless time and behind his eyes, the colours of fatigue and the slow-motion dizziness would set in until he blinked and then everything was fine for awhile. Fine, he thought, yes, that was fine.

But House could only stay cooped up in his office alone for so long before it grated on his nerves, and his leg. He had to get out for a bit. He thought about where he could go – somewhere that didn't involve seeing patients and didn't allow the possibility of Cuddy finding him. The two prerequisites seemed mutually exclusive. Cuddy knew every inch of the hospital and was in those inches everyday. Nothing escaped her micromanagement. Following this line of thinking, House soon reached a delicious compromise. He would see a patient in order to avoid Cuddy, as long as the patient couldn't see him.

And mere minutes later, House was comfortably seated in one of those big, luxurious armchairs placed in one of what House called the "VIP rooms". These were rooms where patients stayed for long stretches and it was expected that family would visit and they needed something soft to sit in, to wait for their loved ones to regain consciousness, or regain use of their limbs, whatever the case. Luckily for House, this particular patient's room was always empty, save for the middle-aged man in the hospital bed, lying oblivious to his surroundings, blissfully asleep with the distinct possibility of staying that way. The paper pushers hadn't gotten around to his case yet – to pull the plug or not to pull the plug. Would he wake up? Probably not, any doctor would say. With no family to make the decision, it would be turned over to the board. They would debate over his life while he slept on. Though, House suspected this would take several more weeks. More pressing matters existed at the moment, thanks to him. Legal trouble always trumped oblivious patient trouble. Not that this man was any trouble; House was actually somewhat, begrudgingly grateful to the nameless patient for creating this sanctuary, a room free of scrutiny by outsiders and therefore, of Cuddy.

As House lounged in the blue chair against the far wall of the room, he absently massaged his injured leg and searched with his eyes for any signs of a television nearby. Of course, in a clean room, there wouldn't be one. House was proud of himself on this one – he had picked the coma patient who also had severe allergies to just about everything and therefore had to be confined to a clean room. House had no idea how the upholstered chair he sat on was kept allergen-free, but didn't care to find out. He supposed the hospital staff would remove it if it disturbed the patient, which it hadn't. Yes, this room was perfect. Even having to wash his hands vigorously and don the required "last-minute Halloween costume" attire and mask, it was still worth it, if only to be allowed to think in relative quiet. He imagined a coma must feel like that. Not that he remembered such bliss from his one and only.

House thought about how much time he had left. Not on this world or plane of existence or philosophical crap like that, but how much pain-manageable time remained. True, he had a few more Vicodin saved up at home, but that would only last a few days at most. Right now, he was content, his leg dulled by the latest dose. But soon it would start, like before, he knew. Soon his brain would get fuzzy from the distraction, the constant nagging of the pain, which would only get stronger as time went on until it became unbearable and his brain had to be diverted from thinking of it. He didn't want it to get to that point again.

So here he sat, drawing up diabolical plans to get a new prescription. So far, he hadn't come up with anything worthwhile, save for storming the pharmacy with an AK-47 and taking all stock of the bittersweet substance, hoarding it in his office like a squirrel hoards nuts or King K. Rool in Donkey Kong 64 hoards golden bananas. Of course, there were several flaws in this draft – the requirement of an AK-47, for one, and the impending legal trouble for the second. The board would not be happy about that.

Time seemed to float by. After an hour or two, House was bored by his own mind and pulled out his GameBoy, though the wheels were still turning with every level he advanced. He knew he had to think of something before the fuzziness set in. He had thought of alternative painkillers, but he had tried those before, it was all the same. He needed Vicodin. He was not addicted, he had a condition. This was true. Why couldn't anyone else see that? Cuddy most of all should see that, he thought, she should know more than anyone. But it appeared she didn't, and it was up to him to get himself out of this pickle.

Oh, blast. Pickles. He was hungry.

House decided his stomach could suffer for a few hours if it allowed his brain more time to think. If he didn't think of something soon, his gastro-intestinal desires would be the least of his concerns.

Having grown accustomed to the quiet room, the sounds of it had faded to the distance: a distant, quiet beep of the patient's heart monitor, the distant and indistinguishable chatter outside the closed glass door and the muffled foot traffic that accompanied it. Even his own shifting positions and breathing did not register to his ears anymore. This is why he was surprised.

"Well, there you are! Of course, where else would you be? Anywhere that required work or seeing patients? Certainly not for Greg House, doctor and generally Very Important Person!" Cuddy let out in a rush as she burst into the room, sliding the glass door with strength, though limited by her puffy white anti-allergen suit. She was stepping ever-forward to where House sat across the room.

He looked up at her in momentary surprise before glancing back down, at the floor rather than his GameBoy this time.

"What?" Cuddy began again in a softer tone, seemingly tired, "Do you need time to think about things? You could have just said so, you know." He did not reply. "There are other options out there. There are other medications that are less addictive, less-"

"There is nothing else!" House finally spoke, not as loud as his eyes became. "Don't you think I would have switched to something else long ago if they did any good?"

"It could take a combination of different things. A less powerful painkiller and physical therapy, maybe. You won't know unless you try," Cuddy argued.

"I don't want to try. You want me to try." House said quietly, almost grumbling. "Why now? Do you want one last chance at fixing me before I self-destruct completely? Well, I'm sorry, but you may have missed the boat on that one, dear Cuddy… among other things."

"I don't want to fix you. I don't want you to be fixed, in the sense of the word. I don't care if you stay miserable, you always were in one way or another anyway," she allowed a small, reminiscent smile then, "I just want what's best for you, as any doctor would want for her patient." Cuddy was standing directly in front of him now and did not have to speak loudly anymore. She caught his gaze when it finally shifted up from her chest, which even the scrub suit didn't conceal.

"You consider me your patient again?" House asked.

"I never stopped considering you," she replied and her expression was unreadable.

House looked down again, at his hands this time. He didn't know quite why, but he did not feel himself at this moment. He knew he should have been angry with Cuddy for this trick of hers, practically destroying the constant his life depended on, but he felt nothing. Nothing at all. It was almost like he was not real. He figured it was from the length of time spent isolated in this room with a slumbering coma patient, focused only on his own morbid thoughts.

"Hey, I'm not going to leave you in the lurch, House. I don't want you to suffer," Cuddy reassured softly without looking him in the eye. His head was turned to the floor even if she had wanted to. She resisted touching his shoulder, or running a hand through his hair, and all of the other things she felt compelled to console him with.

"Well, I am. I haven't eaten in… a long time. If you're telling the truth, you can buy me lunch, or dinner, or whatever meal is appropriate for whatever the hell time it is," he mumbled at the floor. This was his begrudging way of accepting her motive, which he did on faith at the moment, without really thinking about it. He didn't know why he did, but he believed her, at least for now.

"Very well. And I will even treat you to dessert," Cuddy's soft voice sounded like it used to, before the infarction, he noted.

House looked up at her then, a small but flirtacious grin forming, "Why, Dr. Cuddy, you minx, this is supposed to be a clean room."

----------------tbc.

A/N: Okay! I totally stole the clean room idea from "Safe", with the girl with the ten million allergies and whatnot, but it works so shhh. AND I FINALLY WROTE ANOTHER CHAPTER, THANK YOU. It really is because of all the nice reviews you've written me, otherwise I would not bother to continue, so thank you, fo sho. Oh, and this chapter was inspired by the amazingly hot Yellow Scrubs Sex Scene from "All In". You know what I'm talkin' 'bout.

So the legal stuff will happen later, I am just trying to remember what the hell I was thinking about when I started this fic like LAST YEAR. Anyway, that's why this chapter doesn't really have any substance. As for "dessert" (ahem), we may see that later on. Heh.

Thanks again for all the great reviews - and I hope you continue to like this fic!