Chapter 96:

"Oh, I have a dinner thing to go to tomorrow night," Cuddy said from the passenger seat.

House and Cuddy were in the car Monday morning headed to the hospital. Cuddy did not inquire about his leg pain because she knew he would just get defensive and deflect, especially after the previous Friday night's events. They had enjoyed a relaxing weekend, with Cuddy catching up on laundry and chores around the house.

"The dinner thing that all the Department Heads got invited to?" House responded.

Cuddy looked over at him, her eyebrow raised. "Wow, I'm shocked you read that memo."

"Oh please, you act like I never read those things," House retorted back, as he pulled into the hospital parking deck.

"Uh, that's because you don't," Cuddy told him, as she grimaced and placed a hand on her abdomen, caressing the dress material, as she felt her son give a strong kick against her hand.

House glanced over at her, questionably.

"It's fine," she told him. "He just kicked. Unexpected, that's all."

"Why didn't you tell me you were getting recognized?"

Cuddy blushed. "It's nothing."

"It's something," House retorted. "Considering all you've done for the hospital, all the money you've brought in from donors and fundraising..."

"Oh stop, now I'm blushing."

"All I'm saying is it's a big deal. You should be proud." He looked over at her and grinned. "I sure am proud of you." He took his hand off of the steering wheel, and rested it on hers.

Cuddy smiled, feeling her heart swell at his words. "Thanks."

House pulled into Cuddy's reserved parking spot in the garage, and turned off the engine. He looked over at her.

"Do you want me to go to Michigan?"

Cuddy glanced at him but said nothing.

"I've been thinking about it all weekend," he continued.

"I think it'll be good for you," Cuddy told him quietly, as she unbuckled her belt and grabbed her laptop bag from the back seat. "I think you should go. You'll enjoy it."

"Bad timing though."

"Is there ever such thing as god timing?" Cuddy replied, as she stepped out the car and met him on the driver's side.

"That reminds me," she added, "I have to call Jeffrey at Michigan. He said for you to think about it. Since you won't ever call anyone, I'll talk to him."

She paused, looking up at him as they waited for the elevator.

"Do you want to lecture?"

House silently glanced at her for a moment before answering her. "Yeah, I do," he replied quietly. "I'll just be away..."

"It'll be fine. We'll manage," Cuddy reassured him. She took his hand as they waited for the elevator doors to open.

They rode the elevator down to the ground floor. House followed Cuddy through the clinic toward her office.
"Don't you have work to do?" Cuddy called out behind her, as she said hello to Brenda before continuing into her office.

"Yeah, but I could never admire your huge preggo ass from back here if I were upstairs already," House replied loudly.

Glaring at him, Cuddy dragged him by the arm into her office, as her face grew red hot.

"Keep your vice down," she scolded him, through gritted teeth. "Don't shout that out for the whole world to hear."

"Okay, okay," House retorted, holding up his hands in surrender. Just then, his phone rang.

"What?" he answered, after fishing the phone out of his pocket and bringing it to his ear.

"House, where are you? We have a patient!"

"I'm in the building. I'll be up in five." He hung up.

"That was Cameron. She wants me."

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "She can have you."

"That's a horrible thing to say," he scolded.

"Go. You have a patient. I have to get ready for my conference call in forty-five minutes," Cuddy told him, as she unpacked her laptop from her bag and sat down at her desk.

House turned to leave. "If you want, I'll be there tomorrow night," he replied, as he opened the door to let himself out.

Cuddy smiled at him. "I'd like that."

Upon limping into the conference room, House noticed writing on the whiteboard. Popping a Vicodin in his mouth, he swallowed and looked around at Foreman and Chase, who were sitting at the glass conference table with a file open in front of them.

"Who wrote on the whiteboard?" he spat out.

Cameron walked up to him with a mug of coffee. "Someone's cranky when they haven't had their coffee yet," she noted, handing over the mug.

"Or sex," Chase chimed.

House ignored him as Foreman sniggered.

"Thanks." He turned towards Foreman and Chase. "Since this writing isn't girly, which one of you two wrote on the whiteboard?"

"Not me," Chase defended.

"Thanks for throwing me under the bus," Foreman told him.

"Oh please," House chimed in, "that writing had 'black power' written all over it."

"Patient says he knows you," Cameron told him.

Turning to face her, House raised his eyebrows. "They all say that."

"Michael Finkle, ring any bells? Name sounds familiar," Cameron told him.

Almost choking on his sip of coffee, House stared at her. "Mike Finkle?! Did he go to Michigan? And his name came up in passing at the Christmas party," he told her. "That's why it sounds familiar to you."

He snickered. "Ooh, Lisa's going to be thrilled."

"Why do you say that?" Cameron asked curiously.

Realizing what he just voiced aloud, House tried to cover his tracks. "No reason," he said quickly, scanning the whiteboard that was littered with the patient's symptoms.

"Fever, joint pain, swollen lymph nodes, fatigue." He turned. "When did this come on?"

"He came in last night to the ER," Cameron replied. "Complaining about the joint pain for about four days. He figured he tweaked something moving the wrong way or something."

"Patient do any running?" Chase suggested. "Joint pain, fatigue would be explainable if he hasn't been very active."
"Doesn't explain the fever episodes," House interrupted.

"Oh and he just started getting hives," Cameron told him. "He said they appeared last week and they come and go. We have him on corticosteroids."

House rained an eyebrow. "Interesting. So why did he wait a week to come in?" He limped out of the room.

"Where are you going?" Cameron called out. "We're in the middle of a differential!"

"To see the patient," House called out.

"I was wondering when you were going to show up," Michael Finkle called out from his bed, after House had come in and slid the door shut behind him, with Cameron in tow.

"W e weren't even friends at Michigan. We're not starting now," House told him as he limped up to the bed. "I see you've met my team."

"I thought you don't see patients."

"Select ones," House replied, "Open your gown."

"It doesn't itch."

"How long have you had the rash?" House questioned, ignoring Finkle, as he glanced at the patient's stomach.

"It happens sporadically, starting last week...hey, Lisa Cuddy still work here? She's Dean right?"

House looked at him carefully. "Yes, she does." He did not elaborate any further, and continued to probe around the patient's stomach. "Any pain when I do this?"

Finkle shook his head. "No...do you think you could ask her to come see me? I haven't seen her since college."

Ignoring him, House felt his lymph nodes, turning to Cameron. "Yep, swollen glands." He turned back to Finkle.

"Been sick recently?"

"Had a little bit of a fever last week, but then it went away...are you going to answer me?"

House stared at him. "I'll see what I can do," he replied coldly. "Being Dean and all, I doubt she'll have time to come up here and reminisce with you," he sneered.

"Why the sudden hostility, House?"

"I don't know, Mike. You tell me...and why would you request me as your doctor? There are a million other doctors in Jersey, so why me?"

"Because you're the best."

House scoffed at him, and glanced down at the file in his hand. "You moved here three months ago. I assume for a job transfer or a girlfriend. I don't really care which one -"

"My girlfriend broke up with me two weeks ago. We were together for four years. We moved here because of my work -"

House interrupted him. "What part of 'I don't give a shit' don't you get?"

"You're deflecting, House," Finkle told him. "I mention 'Lisa Cuddy' and you get all paranoid." He paused. "And I know what happened at that little frat party, you slept with her. She came there with me, and you slept -"

"What are we holding a grudge? Get over yourself."

Mike suddenly winced.

"Why'd you just do that?"

"Do what?"

"You just winced."

"My leg hurts. Like a bone spur or something."

House pulled up the blanket. The left knee was red and swollen. "Joint inflammation." He pressed on Finkle's shin, and Finkle winced and drew in a painful breath.

"Shin pain, could be bone pain."

He turned to leave without bothering to pull down the blanket. Cameron followed.

"House, stop! Where are you going? What's wrong with me?"

House turned. "You're boring me. But it's ok. Keep pining for Lisa Cuddy. See where that gets you."

Cameron followed him as he limped out of the room, sliding the door shut behind him. Once they were out of earshot, Cameron turned to face her boss with a smirk on her face.

"You enjoyed that."

"A bit," House replied.

"You're not going to tell him, are you?"

"Tell him what?"

Cameron gaped at him. "That you two are together."

"He'll figure it out," House responded.

"And how will he do that? Ask her who the father is?"

"That was blunt."

Cameron shrugged. "Does Lisa know we're treating him?"

"Not yet, which means she hasn't looked in the patient logs for this week yet."

"Well, are you going to tell her?"

"Yes, but not today."

Cameron eyed him carefully. "Should we be referring this case to someone else?"

House stared at her. "Why, because we're treating a guy who wanted a chance to be involved with my girlfriend twenty-five years ago, and now he might be pining for her?"

Cameron swallowed. "Yes," she told him quietly.

"Tread carefully here, Cameron," House said coldly. "I can handle it."

..

Later that day, House was sitting in the cafeteria, devouring his Reuben, while Wilson sat across from him.

"I heard about your patient," Wilson commented, as he took a stab at his salad with his plastic fork.

"From who, Cameron?"

'Why do you think it's Cameron?" Wilson leaned back against the booth, and crossed his arms across his chest after swallowing a mouthful.

"Because she was in the room with me."

"She's worried about you."

"And Lisa doesn't know yet because if she did, she'd call me out on it."

"And I'm worried about your, um, perspective," Wilson continued, as if House hadn't interrupted.

House snorted as he swallowed a fry. "I'm fine."

He paused. "I'll tell her tomorrow night at the dinner. You're going, right?"

"Of course I'm going," Wilson replied. "She deserves this honor."

"Oh I forgot to ask you: do you two want to meet for dinner this week?" he continued.

"Shouldn't be a problem," House told him. "but Lisa may be beat, so I'll let her decide then let you know."

"Not a problem. How's she feeling?"

House shrugged. "Tired, stressed. She's been getting these migraine headaches. I told her to stop working so hard, but you know her..."

His cell phone rang.

"What?"

"House, patient's got elevated WBC and he's got wheals on his back, looks like lesions."

"Alright, I'll be right up."

The next day, Cuddy left the hospital at four o'clock to get ready for the dinner, to be held at the Hilton Hotel in Hamilton, twenty minutes or so from downtown Princeton.

She pulled into her driveway just as her cell phone rang.

"Lisa Cuddy," she spoke into the phone as she pulled the keys out of the ignition, grabbed her bag and opened the car door.

"Lisa, hi. It's Jeffrey Stockton at Michigan, retuning your call. Did I catch you at a bad time?"

"Not at all, Jeffrey. How are you?"

"Good. Just wanted to touch base on our conversation in Vegas."

"Well, I can tell you that Greg is definitely interested. He was never going to reach out, so this is me doing it for him."

Stockton chuckled. "I figured. Listen, if he is still willing to start in the fall, why don't we have him come out here before then?"

"You can come too of course," he added. "I'm sure a lot has changed since you both were here."

"That would be great," Cuddy replied, "Why don't we plan something for the next few weeks? I only have a few more before I can't fly. I'll check my schedule and get back to you this week."

"That sounds great. I've been gauging interest," Stockton told her, "and there's more than a few interested, so we may have a few sections."

"But don't worry," he continued, "I think it'll still be at least twice a month, as gurst lecture, it won't be bad. I know he doesn't want to give up his practice entirely, and I/m certainly not asking him to..."

"We'll make it work," Cuddy replied.

They talked for ten more minutes before Cuddy had to go, to get ready for her awards dinner. The red strapless open-back dress she chose to wear was simple yet still elegant, with a tie-knot front that hit at the calf. She finished the outfit with simple black pumps, a silver diamond pendant necklace and matching earrings.

Two hours later, while Cuddy was sitting at a table, surrounded by members from the hospital's board and her department heads, plus additional big name donors who had given generous contributions to the hospital, House was in his office, getting dressed in his tuxedo, while his team was in the adjacent room shouting our possible diagnoses.

"I said," Cameron shouted, "He came back with an elevated LG panel!"

House ducked his head in from his office, as he worked on tying his bow tie.

"Still have the elevated white count?" He consulted his watch. Wilson had not sent him a text, so he knew he still had time.

"Yeah," Cameron told him. "House, when do you want to leave?"

"As soon as I'm ready to leave," House replied, "...what about Schnitzler syndrome?"

"Isn't that related to arthritis?" He's too young for -" Foreman started.

"Explains all his symptoms," House interrupted, impatiently, "including elevated white and red counts..."

"How come no one else caught it?" Cameron demanded.

"Because all doctors' are idiots...and they aren't me."

Cameron rolled he eyes as Foreman sniggered.

"If we are going this route, why not 'CINCA' syndrome?" Foreman inquired.

"No joint abnormalities, only pain," replied House, shutting down his theory. "Test for the proteins in his blood. Run the markers. Then we'll know if it's autoimmune and can narrow it down from there."

He glanced at Cameron. "I should probably go. After you drop me off, come back here and help. This one," he jerked his head at Chase, "apparently can't stay late."

Cameron drove him to the Cedar Grove Banquet Hilton in Hamilton, where the ceremony was held in the Hamilton Ballroom. House thanked Cameron for the ride before proceeding into the lobby and through the doors that were marked with the words 'Hamilton Ballroom' on a gold plate on the door.

Cuddy was in the middle of her award 'thank-you' speech when he walked in. A few heads turned in his direction as he entered.'

Leaning against the wall beside the door, House leaned his cane against the wall, crossing his arms across his chest as he stared at the woman who was speaking at the podium at the far corner of the room.

He smiled as he listened to her words of gratitude at receiving this honor for her years of extraordinary service for the hospital.

As she finished, the applause erupted. Cuddy gripped her plaque the Board presented her with, and made her way down the platform stairs.

House knew she was going to be bombarded by well-wishers for the next few minutes, so he took the opportunity to scan the room, searching for the bar.

"Scotch on the rocks," he told the bartender a he limped up to the bar.

He heard a voice call his name and turned to see Wilson standing there. "Vodka soda," Wilson told the bartender. He turned to face his friend.

"When did you get here?"

"About ten minutes ago."

"Nice timing," Wilson told him smartly. "How's your patient?"

"He'll live, I think."

"Does Cuddy know yet?"

House glared at him, as he accepted his scotch. "No, and I'd like it to keep it that way for the time being. I'll tell her tonight."

"Are you sure that's -"

House interrupted him. "I said, I'll tell her later." His eyes scanned the room. He saw Cuddy finally make her way back to her table, where she sat with various Board Members. He gave her a lingering once-over, admiring the red dress she was wearing; how it hugged her curves nicely and accented her growing belly.

She looked good.

Wilson watched the intense, but gentle appearance come across his friend's face. He sipped his drink."

"Well, I'm going to find John. We'll catch up later." He paused. He knew House was not listening to a word he was saying. "Oh by the way, I slept with Cameron."

"Mhhmm, yeah," House said, as he continued to stare at Cuddy from across the room.

Wilson chuckled. "Earth to House."

House finally looked at him. "Huh?"

"I think somebody is bitten by the love bug," Wilson joked.

Scowling, House took a sip of his scotch. "Oh shut up." He turned away and limped toward the table where Cuddy was sitting.

Arriving at her table, House slid into the empty seat next to her.

"Oh good, you made it," Cuddy told him. "You know everyone?" She made introductions around the table.

House leaned close to her and whispered in her ear, "You look stunning," before kissing her on the cheek.

"Thank you. I ordered you the steak. Oh, you're forgiven for being late by the way..."

"You know me so well...and I have a case!"

"Still doesn't excuse you from being late," replied Cuddy cheekily.

"I thought you just forgave me..."

"I did, but that still doesn't mean you can suck up," she joked.

"Congratulations," House whispered, as he slid her hand up her thigh and gave a small squeeze.

Karen Simmonds, a fellow Board Member who sat on the hospital's Board of Directors leaned over from her place next to House.

"So, House, I heard you just treated my nephew last week."

House glanced at her. He was silent. "Oh, you mean the thirty-something who had intermittent porphyria, he's your nephew?!"

"Yeah," Karen told him. "He told me you have a horrible bedside manner, but he admired how you figured out the case with such determination."

"And you're surprised I have a horrible bedside manner?"

Karen grinned. 'Well, no, but I'm just wondering how she," pointing at Cuddy, "puts up with it."

Cuddy leaned across House. "Who says I put up with it?" she joked.

"Oh, by the way," she told House, "I talked to Jeffrey Stockton earlier. He wants you to go to Michigan sometime in the next few weeks to show you around."

"A lot has changed," she added.

'Did you already tell him it's a definite 'yes'?

"No, but I did tell him that you were still interested." She paused and looked closely at him. "Is that still not true?"

"No, it is," House told her truthfully as he took a long sip of his scotch.

"That's all that I ask. That you're open."

"Yep, that I am," he told her. He paused. "And I can't believe you thought I wasn't showing up tonight."

Cuddy smiled shyly at him. "Well, thank you for coming, and not bailing on me," she replied quietly.

After dinner, Cuddy was in the midst of small talk among her staff and all the donors. Across the room, House was back at the bar, ordering his fourth scotch of the night.

"Ho many is that?" John Greene questioned, eyeing him carefully.

House scowled at him. "What are you, my mother? I'm not driving."

"Hey man, I'm just looking out for you."

Cuddy walked up to them a few minutes later. "Sorry I've been running around all night," she apologized.

"Not a problem," House replied, "I knew that much when I signed up for this," he joked.

Understanding the meaning behind his words, Cuddy chuckled. "Touché," she said quietly.

She turned to Wilson. "When did you two set up the nursery?"

"When you guys were in Vegas."

"Sneaky," House commented.

"You shouldn't have done that," Cuddy told them.

"Yeah, well, when was it going to get done?"

"I was going to get around to it," she replied.

"Lisa, I meant to ask you," John started. "How's everything with Chase?"

House looked around sharply.

Cuddy shrugged. "I haven't really been dealing with him..except for that one time..." Her voice trailed off. She swallowed after a brief pause, before glancing over at House. "

"I really hope you aren't making his life a living hell..."

"I'm not," House told her. "Trust me, if I were making his life hell, you would definitely hear about it because Cameron would have skipped right down to your office like a little girl, and told you."

Cuddy rolled her eyes.

"Foreman and Cameron seem not to mind," he continued.

"Foreman doesn't care about anything," Wilson interrupted.

House sniggered. "Wow. He speaks the truth. Say more."

Wilson ignored him. Instead, he turned to Cuddy.

"Dinner next week?"

"Sure," she replied. "We'll talk tomorrow."

A few minutes later, Wilson and John left to go to their table, leaving House and Cuddy alone at the bar.

"How's your patient?"

"He'll live, I think," House replied, nonchalantly. "You, uh, actually know him..."

Cuddy, who was in the middle of ordering a seltzer water from the bartender, looked over at him, surprised.

"Really? Who?"

"Mike Finkle."

Cuddy's moth dropped open a she continued to stare at him. She was dumbfounded.

"Wait, as in Mike Finkle, Michigan, Mike Finkle?" she asked, just to be certain.

House grinned, amused at her uncertainty, and said nothing.

"No!"

"Yep," he replied. They made their way back to the table and sat down.

"Holy shit." She paused briefly as she collected her thoughts. "You're going to treat him, right?"

"Of course," House replied.

"He asked about you," he added, "I honestly still think he's pissed that he didn't get any action at that frat party -"

Cuddy hit him on the arm. "Oh stop."

"He wants to see you."

"And what have you told him?"

"Nothing..." He paused. "He was the one who brought up the frat party...in passing..."

Eying her confusing, he clarified. "Apparently he thinks I got all 'hostile' when your name came up."

He ignored the sentimental look that had just appeared in her eyes, and continued, "Then he said that he knew what happened later that night - that you were there with him...and then didn't leave with him, if you catch my drift."

Cuddy cut him off as she laid a hand on his arm. "Well, did you get all hostile?"

"No...okay, maybe a little..."

Cuddy smiled.

"What can I say, woman? You make me all mushy."

Throwing her head back, Cuddy laughed as a wide grin spread across her face. "Mushy?! Really? Never in a million years would I expect the word 'mushy' come out of your mouth, Gregory House."

"Yeah, yeah, I get your point," he retorted, before taking a swig of his scotch. He looked over at her from the top of his glass. "I thought you were going to wear the blue dress," he questioned.

He grinned. "Not that I don't like the red one," he added hastily.

"I was, but I wore blue at another function, I think it was New Years Eve?"

'So you can't wear the same color?"

"No."

House rolled his eyes. "I don't get it." He consulted his watch. It was nearing ten o'clock.

Suddenly, his phone rang.
"What?" he answered after fishing it out of his jacket pocket.

"House?" It was Cameron. "I think we found something."

You couldn't have found something that quick. It's only been two days!"

"I still think we found something that's worth explo- "

"- Alright, I'll be right there."

"Wait, no, House," Cameron started. 'I didn't mean - you don't have to come - "

"I said, we'll be right there," House interrupted before ending the call.

He turned to Cuddy, who was watching him with interest.

"Care to leave early?"

TBC...