Chapter 20

The next week passed pretty normally, all things considered. House and the ducklings had no patients, so House had spent most of the week trying to avoid clinic duty by hiding out with coma guy. He was doing okay in cutting down his Vicodin usage, but was very nearly out and knew he wasn't ready to stop cold turkey. He needed another prescription to get him through the next few weeks while he weaned himself slowly off the drug. The problem was how to get it?

"House!" Cuddy shouted, and startled him out of his thoughts. "Exactly how long do you think you can avoid clinic duty?"

"Apparently not much longer," House griped. "This is a big hospital, don't you have better things to do than chase me down to the clinic?"

"Yes, I do. But none of them are nearly as much fun as watching you suffer having to actually see patients." Cuddy hissed. She wasn't in a good mood that day, and she really thought she would feel better if House was miserable too.

"You know," House said, dropping his voice, "there are other ways you could cause me pain, that might be fun for both of us." He wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.

"Please," Cuddy replied, "I'm not in the mood." She turned and exited the room, heading back to her office. House followed, on his way to clinic duty.

"I would think with all those extra hormones you're taking, you'd be even more in the mood than usual," House quipped.

Cuddy stopped dead in her tracks. She turned around and slapped House squarely across the face. He looked at her, stunned.

"Cuddy, what the hell!" House shouted. He'd been harassing her with similar comments for nearly six years, what the hell was wrong with her today?

Cuddy opened her mouth to reply, and instead dissolved into tears. She turned and ran into her office, not wanting any of the hospital staff to see her crying. House followed, and barged into her office without knocking.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" House demanded.

"I'm not pregnant," Cuddy sobbed.

"How is that different than yesterday?" House asked.

"Because yesterday I thought I was!" Cuddy shouted.

"You had the IVF," House said. It wasn't a question, really.

"Beginning of the week," Cuddy replied, slowly getting control of her crying. "Two days ago I got a positive result on my pregnancy test. Then this morning, my period started. It was a false positive."

House didn't know what to say. He wanted to comfort her, but he was really terrible at that. Everything he said always came out wrong. And hugging wasn't exactly his thing, either. Instead, he did the one thing he thought might relieve her mind a bit.

"I'll do my clinic hours this week, you don't have to chase me down," House said.

Cuddy looked up and gave him a weak little thank you smile.

"Just a week though," House warned. "I don't want to besmirch my stellar reputation for being a pain in the ass. And if anyone asks, I'm going to tell them that you whipped me until I bled."

"Deal," Cuddy said. "Thanks."

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After he had finished his clinic duty, House returned to Cuddy's office. He hated doing this, but he really couldn't see any other choice. He knocked, and waited for a response before entering.

"Cuddy, I need a favor." House said.

"What sort of favor?" Cuddy asked tiredly. It had been a very emotional day for her, and she was looking forward to going home, getting into bed, pulling the covers over her head and pretending the whole day had never happened.

"I need a prescription," House answered. No sense in beating around the bush.

"For Vicodin? House, you must be joking." Cuddy replied.

"I'm not. Look, you saw the treatment plan I submitted. It's a gradual detox. The last prescription Wilson wrote me has no refills available, and I'll be out tomorrow. I've cut my dosage, but I can't just go cold turkey. It won't work, and I'm not going to fail in the first two weeks." Right now the only thing getting House through this was his desire to prove those arrogant bastards on the board wrong.

Cuddy hesitated. She knew he was right, and she didn't want to see him fail either. He had only completed a week; he still had nearly three months to go.

"What's the dosage you're taking now?" Cuddy asked. House told her, and she did some quick mental math. A prescription with one refill would take care of it if he continued to lower his dosage. She wrote it out and handed it to him. He looked down and read the prescription.

"Thanks," House said. He'd been hoping for more, as he wanted to take this as slowly as possible, but he knew he'd have to take what she would give. This would get him through for a while, at least, and he wouldn't have to take any of the drastic measures that had come to mind earlier in the day.

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Mere moments after House left, Wilson stuck his head into Cuddy's office.

"Got a minute?" Wilson asked.

Cuddy looked up from her desk, surprised. She hadn't realized the door was open, and she been crying again. She was embarrassed at being caught. She quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks, but not quickly enough.

"What did he do?" Wilson demanded. He'd seen House leave the office and assumed he'd been harassing Cuddy about the rehab.

"What?" Cuddy asked. "Oh, nothing. He's okay. It's not that." She wasn't sure she wanted to talk to Wilson about this, but she needed someone and House had problems of his own right now.

"Are you okay?" Wilson asked, concerned. Cuddy looked up and saw the concern on his face. If Wilson could be such a good friend to House, maybe he could be a good friend to her, too. She took a deep breath and told him the whole story, dissolving into tears again when she finished.

Wilson was amazed; with all the rumors that flew around this hospital he'd never heard a whisper about this. Cuddy was still crying. Although they hadn't been this close previously, Wilson could no more stand by and watch a woman cry than he could chew glass. He came around the desk, kneeled down and took her in his arms. He held her while she cried.

As her tears began to slow, Cuddy realized how good it felt to have a man hold her again. Maybe this was what she really wanted, not just a baby. Maybe what she really wanted was a family. She lifted her head from Wilson's shoulder and kissed his cheek.

"Thanks," she said. "I really need to get home." Wilson stood and gathered up her briefcase and purse for her. He handed them to her and smiled.

"If you need someone to talk to," Wilson said, "call me. I seem to be short a best friend right now myself."

"I will, thanks, James." Cuddy replied, and left for home.