Chapter 49:

When she saw the Dean of Medicine walking swiftly through the clinic doors, Brenda Lewis went to meet the woman.

"I emailed everyone who was at the meeting earlier and told them that you would get back to them about rescheduling," she told Cuddy, as the two women walked together to Cuddy's office.

"Thank you," Cuddy told the head nurse who was also her assistant. "I'll probably do it by conference call on Monday, but I need to think about that. Don't send out another email until you hear from me."

"How's Greg?" Brenda asked, switching gears to the personal bond that she and the Dean of Medicine had developed over the years.

"Just went in for an MRI, then he's going in for surgery on his shoulder."

They had reached the outside of Cuddy's office, where Brenda's desk sat.

"Cancel everything I have today. Reschedule for late next week. Monday as well. I'll let you know if I'll be out Tuesday," Cuddy told Brenda, who nodded and went behind her desk, sat down and started typing at the computer to bring up her boss's schedule.

As she was walking into her office, Cuddy looked back.

"Oh and Brenda, if Robert Quigley calls, let me know the prognosis and then okay the surgery…I have to make a couple of phone calls."

Once she closed her office door and walked behind her desk, Cuddy sat down and reached for the phone that sat on her desk. Punching in a number that she read off a piece of paper, she waited, praying to God that the other person picked up.

Three rings. Then, "Hello?"

Lisa Cuddy took a deep breath before speaking into the receiver.

"Mrs. House, hi. This is Dr. Lisa Cuddy from over at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. I'm not entirely sure if you remember me…"

"Lisa, hey. Yes, of course I remember you," Blythe House's voice said over the phone, "Funny you called, I'm supposed to meet my son for lunch in an hour and a half."

Cuddy swallowed and forced herself to open her mouth to speak. "…Mrs. House," she began.

"Please Lisa, call me Blythe."

"Sorry…Blythe," Cuddy corrected herself, "I'm calling because your son was in a motorcycle accident this morning."

Silence on the other line.

"Hello? Blythe?"

The older woman finally spoke, her voice shaky. "Is he okay?"

"He tore something in his left shoulder and has a couple bruised ribs. He's going in for surgery in a little bit to repair his shoulder, but other than that, he seems to be okay. He was lucky."

"Since I'm in the area, I'd like to see him," Blythe spoke into the phone.

"I figured you'd might," Cuddy told her. "He should be back from surgery in about a half hour, maybe a little more."

She paused and then said, "If you want, you can come to my office when you get here and I can discuss further with you your son's injuries…"

"Okay," Blythe told her, "I should be there in about an hour…You still head honcho?"

Cuddy chuckled. "I am."

Once they said their goodbye's and Cuddy hung up the phone, Brenda told her that House went in for surgery to reattach a torn labrum of the Bankart lesion to the shoulder socket.

Satisfied with that answer, Cuddy left her office and made her way up to House's office.

Upon walking in, she noticed Cameron and Foreman sitting at the glass table, with files open in front of each of them.

Cameron immediately opened her mouth, but was silenced when the Dean of Medicine held up a hand.

"I don't know what you two have heard, but Greg's fine. He just went in for surgery to repair his shoulder," Cuddy told them.

"What happened?" Foreman asked her.

"I don't exactly know," she began. "Apparently, he crashed the bike into a guardrail after being cut off, and was flung over the handlebars."

"Everyone's talking about it," Cameron told her.

Cuddy chuckled lightly. "I'm not surprised."

Eying the folders on the table, she raised her eyebrows. "New case?"

"Still the one from yesterday," Foreman told her.

Nodding, Cuddy said, "Good. How's it coming? If it's absolutely imperative, and I mean like you have reached the end and have nowhere else to go, come to me and I will think about waking Greg up to help you. Other than that, come to me and I'll try and help you. Is that understood?"

Both doctors' nodded in unison.

When House was in a room in the ICU following his shoulder surgery, Cuddy was paged and she met Dr. Quigley outside Room 7, where House was currently occupying the bed.

"Lisa, hi," Quigley said, when the Dean of Medicine walked up beside him, "surgery went fine. No complications. He was lucky."

Looking in House's room, Cuddy saw he was sleeping, his left arm immobilized in a black cloth sling and ice packs on his left ribcage.

"Good," she said, sounding relieved as she let out a breath. "What's he on?" she asked, noticing the IV line traveling into the back of his right hand from the pole beside the bed.

"Fentanyl. 60 milligrams every 4 hours. He may need an increase every so often depending on his pain level when he wakes up," Quigley told her. "I would like for him to wear the sling for 4-6 weeks. 24/7 for the first month with incorporating some movements. I also want to start physical therapy maybe later next week depending on how he's doing."

Cuddy nodded, satisfied with the information that Quigley had just mentioned to her. "If that's it, I'm going to stay with him…"

"I'll leave the proxy at the circulation desk. Sign it when you can. No rush." Quigley turned to walk away.

"Rob."

Quigley turned back to look at his boss, questionably.

"Thank you," Cuddy told him sincerely.

She turned and walked into the room, sliding the door quietly shut behind her. Stepping closer to the bed, she silently let her eyes traveled from House's face to his left shoulder down to his ribs and finally down to his right leg.

Slowly lifting his hospital gown upwards, she stared at his right leg and saw that it was partially inflamed. Placing her hand directly on his thigh where a huge ugly scar dominated the skin features, she felt a rush of emotions fill her body and she fought to keep them in check. Very slowly, she let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding.

Moving up to where his head lay on the pillow, she pulled up a chair on his right side and sat down, waiting patiently as she softly caressed the knuckles on his right hand.

After about fifteen minutes of hearing the steady level beeping of the monitors in the background, Cuddy suddenly heard the beeping increase.

Standing up at once, Cuddy let her hands rest on the bed railing as she looked down at the man lying in the bed.

"Greg?" she whispered.

House moaned softly and opened his eyes. Turning his head, he saw Cuddy and immediately reached out his uninjured right hand.

"Hey," he whispered.

She grabbed onto his hand, squeezing it gently.

"Hey," she echoed quietly. "Surgery went fine." Letting go of his hand, she lowered the section of railing beside his head.

"How are you?" he asked.

"Better now that you are out of surgery," Cuddy told him, as she brushed a stray piece of hair away from off his forehead. "Don't move your shoulder. You're on fentyl for the pain."

"How long am I going to be in this thing?" House asked, looking down at the sling with a slight frown.

"4 to 6 weeks."

House's mouth gaped open. "Are you serious?" He winced in pain and closed his eyes.

"Wear it 24/7 for the first month." Cuddy paused, then added with a slight smirk, "And yes, I'm making you wear it. And if I have to, I'll let Wilson and your team keep an eye on you when I'm not around."

House groaned. "God, you're really starting to sound like my mother," he told her, as he opened his eyes again.

Laughing, Cuddy smirked and let her hand rest on her stomach. Bringing his uninjured hand up, House rested his hand on top of hers. Together, they felt their son give a kick against their hands.

House looked up at the woman he loved, the woman carrying his child. "If I wasn't an invalid right now, I would probably fuck your brains out right here, right now.. And I think I just felt his penis," he joked, as his fingers were still splayed on the side of Cuddy's stomach.

"Oh shut up," Cuddy told him, but she chuckled nonetheless.

Bending down near his head, she kissed him. He brought his hand up and cupped her cheek, stroking it lightly, as their mouth stayed together, showing signs of ignited passion between them

Reluctantly, Cuddy pulled back and stared reluctantly into his eyes. "I have to go meet your mom," she told him, apologetically.

House lightly grabbed her hand to prevent her from moving.

"I'll tell her," he said.

Nodding, Cuddy joked, "Yea, didn't want to steal your thunder…"

Smirking, House winced. "Go…I'll be fine," he told her, quietly.

Bending down again, Cuddy kissed him on the lips. "Get some rest. I'll be back."

Leaving the room, Cuddy quietly slid the door shut and walked up to the circulation desk within the ICU.

"Sorry to have you sign this, Dr. Cuddy, but it's standard policy," one of the nurses said to her as she handed the Dean a pen and a bunch of forms attached to a clipboard.

"No problem," Cuddy told her.

Once she was done filling out House's medical proxy, she headed back downstairs.

On the way back to her office, Cuddy took a minute to just mentally prepare herself for what was about to come. Even though she knew Blythe House knew nothing (yet), she couldn't help but be a little apprehensive about how the woman was going to react, even before finding out that the man in question was her, Blythe's, son.

From the time she was back at her office, Lisa Cuddy had about fifteen minutes before her assistant Brenda knocked on her door to tell her that a 'Blythe House' was here to see her.

Through the door walked in a light blonde haired woman of average height and thin body structure, wearing a tan pants suit, with crème colored leather shoes. For a woman in her 80's, House's mother looked as good as ever, with an air of youth still emanating her features, and a youthful spring in her step.

Standing up immediately, Cuddy went around from behind her desk as she mentioned Brenda to be dismissed and to shut the door behind her.

"Hi Blythe. How was the trip?"

The two women embraced warmly and then Blythe pulled back.

"Not too bad. Wow Lisa, you look great." She mentioned towards the woman's pregnant belly.

"Congratulations, by the way."

Cuddy smiled warmly. "Thank you." She was thoroughly relieved Blythe didn't go further.

"Did you fly from Michigan?"

"No, I'm in North Carolina. Ever since John's passing, I moved there," Blythe told her, somewhat surprised that the woman in front of her who she hadn't spoken to in close to ten years remembered that minute piece of information from some time ago.

The surprise must have shown on her face because Cuddy mentally kicked herself and then offered to move over to the couches in her office as she began to fill Blythe in on her son.

The two women sat down, Blythe on the couch while Cuddy sat in the armchair adjacent, as Cuddy told Blythe the full story about what happened to her son.

"He's been riding bikes since he was in college, and he's never once had a spill as bad as this," Blythe told Cuddy.

"Well, it could have been worse," Cuddy began, "The most severe injury he sustained was the shoulder tear, which he actually just got out of surgery a little while ago."

"I would have thought," Blythe started, "that being Dean of Medicine you don't really interact with patients but it seems like you are speaking as though you have first-hand knowledge of my son's incident."

Cuddy shifted nervously, passing it off as a simple pillow readjustment behind her lower back.

"Well," she began, somewhat hesitantly, "I do deal with patients sometimes, but no, most of my job is administrative," she continued, mentally cheering at this little story she was weaving, as to not reveal much of anything of her personal relationship to the woman in front of her.

"And so," she continued, "since I was in the ER at the time of Greg's incident, I naturally asked if I could help."

"Ah." Blythe understood. I'm assuming Greg is in the ICU?"

"I believe so," Cuddy lied, "Do you want to see him?"

Blythe stood. "Yes."

As Cuddy stood up as well, Blythe said, "You look terrific by the way. When are you due?"

"Beginning of May," responded Cuddy.

Blythe smiled. "Your husband must be a lucky man."

"Oh we're not married," Cuddy reassured her, "but yes, he is."

As Cuddy led Blythe upstairs to the Intensive Care Unit, she was relieved as she stepped into House's room, to see that he was awake.

"Greg!," Blythe cried out as she rushed to her son's uninjured side, "Oh my goodness. Greg, honey."

House rolled his eyes but welcomed his mother's careful embrace. "Mom, it's okay. I'm fine," he grumbled, as his mother bent down and gave him a peck on the cheek.

Cuddy smirked behind Blythe's back as House rolled his eyes at her.

"You and that motorcycle!" Blythe scolded her son, as she took in the sight of his body. "Are you in any pain? How's your shoulder?"

"No mom, I feel like sunshine and daisies."

Blythe narrowed her eyes and frowned at him. "Can you be serious for two seconds and please cut the sarcasm?"

Cuddy chuckled and passed it off as a cough, to which House caught her eye and smirked, to which she ignored.

"My shoulder feels like someone's ripping it off and my ribs and my head ache and I feel really disgustingly nauseous." He suddenly closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, which did not go unnoticed by Cuddy as she stepped forward.

"What's wrong?"

"Dizzy," House murmured.

Grabbing a metal basin that was sitting on the nearby table, Cuddy held it steady while House turned his head to the right and heaved into the basin. Blythe turned away.

When he was done retching, House wiped his mouth and raised his eyes to look up at his boss, who was hesitant about showing any feeling or action except for proper doctor-patient care.

House seemed to pick up on her hesitation because he brushed his fingers up against her knuckles and whispered quietly so that only she could hear, "It's okay."

Cuddy stared at him for a moment and then cleared her throat. "Oh and I forgot to tell you that when you went for an MRI before, it was found that you had a major concussion." Turning to Blythe, she clarified, "That bout of nausea was most likely a side effect of the concussion."

Blythe nodded and stepped forward again, repositioning herself next to her son's right side as Cuddy quickly stepped away.

"Dr. Cuddy here filled me in on what happened," she said, as she sat down in the chair beside the bed, and took her son's hand in her own.

House looked over at Cuddy, who immediately cleared her throat, and said, "Well, if that's all, I'm going…"

Blythe looked over at her. "Thank you, Lisa."

"No problem. I'll be in my office if you need anything." Before she turned to step out, Cuddy saw House give her a wink, and she smiled.

Once Cuddy had shut the door to House's ICU room, House turned to his mother and said, "Sorry about not having lunch."

"Oh Greg, it's fine. I'm just relieved that you're okay," Blythe told him as she squeezed his hand. "How are you otherwise?"

"Fine. Work is good," House told her, "Although my team are idiots, as usual—"

"Greg!" Blythe interrupted, scolded him, "Don't say that!"

"It's true," House defended to her, "I have to practically spoon feed them and coax them into telling me their thoughts on a case…"

"Greg, honey, maybe you're being a bit unfair…so what else? How's James?"

"Wilson's good. He has a new boy toy."

His mother almost choked, as she stared at him, wide-eyed. "He's gay?" she exclaimed.

House rolled his eyes at his mother's reaction. "Yes, mom. Wilson's gay…it was news to me too."

"But then," Blythe continued, "he's spending less time with you…Greg, I hope you're not too lonely, honey."

House took a slight breath. It was now or never.

"…I haven't exactly been… lonely, mom..."

Blythe didn't seem to hear him as she said, "But you do seem happier….what?"

"I haven't exactly been lonely," he repeated, "…I'm seeing someone."

Blythe stopped and looked at her son, curiously, "Really? Oh Greg, that's wonderful. After Stacy, you know…I thought…." She paused, composing herself.

"What's she like?" Blythe continued, wanting to know this new and very unexpected detail in her son's life.

"Well," House began, choosing his words carefully, "she's smart, funny, sexy, she's…she's a doctor."

"Oh? Does she work her?" Blythe asked.

House nodded. "She does, actually. She's top of the food chain." He paused and then said, "…of the hierarchical management system that is."

For a moment, his mom didn't speak, and then she understood as her mouth gaped open.

You mean…no! …Lisa Cuddy?"

House smirked at her. "Took you long enough."

Still staring at her son, Blythe stammered, "Wait…you and Lisa are dating?"

"Yes, mom." He paused and then said, "And in answer to your next question, yes, I am the father."

"And you were going to tell me this today?"

"During lunch," House answered her.

Blythe squeezed his hand. "Greg, I'm so happy for you…oh my gosh!" She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

"I'm going to be a grandmother! How exciting." She paused to recollect herself, then deduced, "That's why Lisa called me to tell me about you."

"I'm curious to hear how she covered herself."

"What, when I was with her before?" Blythe asked.

He nodded.

"She really didn't have to," Blythe told him, "I mean I must admit I was a little more than curious as to why she was calling me as Dean of Medicine rather than someone else…"

House grinned as he said, "That was my big news but I had to go fuck up my shoulder and ruin everything."

"Oh honey, it's okay. I'm seeing you anyway so it doesn't matter…so tell me, is it a boy or girl?"

"It's a boy."

"Oh my! That's so exciting, Greg. So, tell me, how long have you two been dating?"

House sighed and then winced. "Mom," he grumbled, "what is this, 20 Questions?... we've been together since May."

A sliding of the door caused House to look around and for Blythe to hinder her response as a nurse entered carrying a clipboard and pen.

"I'm terribly sorry to disturb you, Doctor House, but if you wouldn't mind initialing, signing and dating this medical proxy form that Dr. Cuddy signed earlier." She handed him the clipboard with forms attached, and a pen.

Wordlessly, he signed the forms in the appropriate spots and handed the board and pen back to the nurse, who told him, "You do understand that in the event you are unable to make any clear medical judgments or decisions that Lisa Cuddy has signed permission and has your consent to make them for you on your behalf?"

"I do," House told her.

Making a note on the clipboard, the nurse looked up again. "Dr. Cuddy told me that you experienced dizziness and vomited before," she told him, "How are you now?"

"Still a little dizzy," House replied.

The nurse felt his forehead with the back of her hand. "You're a little warm." After she took his temperature, she said, "I don't want you eating anything yet. I'm concerned with the fentanyl that you won't be able to hold anything down. You're getting fluids through the IV so that should help. I'll get you some ice chips."

Once the nurse left, Blythe looked at her son and said, "I should probably let you rest. I'll come back later."

She kissed him on the cheek and turned to walk out of the room but House called out to her.

"Mom."

She turned back, questionably.

"Lisa's expecting you."

Smiling Blythe said, "I'm not surprised. Get some rest, honey."

I thought it was nice to have a little heart-to-heart with his mother... Stay tuned!