Chapter 101:

"Sorry you couldn't make it last night," Katherine Cuddy told her sister over the phone.

Saturday morning, Cuddy awoke and went into the kitchen to boil water for tea. She transferred the phone over to her left shoulder.

"How'd it go?" she asked, as she poured the water into her mug.

"Good. You two were missed. The guys had fun," Kate told her, "Andrew is actually getting pretty good."

"Are you saying I have to watch out for him?" Cuddy joked, as she made her way down the hallway back towards the bedroom.

"I wouldn't say 'that' good," her sister replied, laughing.

"Hey, why don't I host next Friday?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, it'll be fun!" Cuddy replied. She saw House was awake. "It's Kate," she told him. He waved halfheartedly at her, and then rolled over, pulling the covers over his head in the process

Cuddy disrobed and climbed back into bed, listening to her sister on the other line.

"Kate, it's not a big deal, I can cook."

Katherine Cuddy chuckled. "Knowing you, you'll go overboard."

"Hey," Cuddy pointed out, "too much food is better than not enough food."

"The guys aren't picky either."

"Well, that makes my job easier."

"Oh," she added, "is it okay if I invite Wilson over?"

"Sure, the more the merrier," Kate told her. "Hey, look, Lisa, I gotta run. We're going out for breakfast with some of Matt's co-workers."

The two sisters said their good-bye's and then Cuddy placed the phone on the bedside table and grabbed her tea. She glanced at the clock as she yawned and leaned against the pillows behind her back.

It was shortly after nine o'clock.

She rested a hand on her stomach, feeling queasy as she felt the life form within her kick against her hand.

"Are you doing somersaults in there or what, kid?"

House pulled the covers away from over his head, and flipped over so that he was facing her on his side.

Reaching his hand out, he laid it on her naked stomach, feeling his son's rapid movements against his palm.

"Damn kid," he whispered.

"Now that's just fucking weird," he added, as he watched their son move, the outline of his kicks and jabs visible beneath the skin.

"I think that's his foot!" he exclaimed, excitedly. "...Or his fist!"

"Yeah, well, whichever one it is, that fucking hurts!" Cuddy responded, grimacing slightly as she placed a hand where seconds ago, the baby had jabbed. She set her tea back down on the bedside table.

"Have you had any more contractions?"

Shaking her head, Cuddy carefully turned to lie on her side to face him. "Not since last night, no."

"That's good." He jutted his head toward the bruise on the side of her abdomen, which was turning a greenish-yellow color. "How's that?"

Cuddy glanced down at the bruise, which had resulted from Brad Kowalski slamming her into the filing cabinet in her office.

"Better. It's healing."

House lifted his head from the pillow, and kissed her shoulder. He lazily showered her collarbone with feather light kisses, trailing upwards to her neck.

Exhaling, Cuddy stopped him. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I have to pee," she told him, apologetically.

House stopped, bringing his lips away from her neck, where he had started to nip at the skin. "Again?!"

"And that better not leave a mark!" she continued.

"Oh relax."

Cuddy sat up, closing her eyes. The heartburn she had dealt with during the past few weeks was back.

She turned to face him. "Do we have any Tums? I'm not sure I have any in my bag."

"There should be some in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. Heartburn back?"

She nodded, rubbing her chest. "Yeah, along with headache, nausea, back pain, my son kicking me in the ribs, and oh, the fact that I have to pee every half hour..."

House was looking concerned. "You've looked better. You look worn out."

Cuddy stood. "Yeah, well if I were fifteen years younger and not an insane fucking workaholic, I'd say things would be different right now. I'd have more energy for starters -" she started to say as she made her way to the bathroom.

House looked at her sharply. "Are you regretting having a baby in your late 40s? Because hell, I know you've wanted this for a long time," he interrupted.

"No, I'm not," Cuddy told him, truthfully. "Hell, I'm still amazed that IVF didn't even work -"

House grinned. "What can I say? My boys can swim."

Laughing, Cuddy walked into the bathroom, and closed the door.

Less than twelve miles away, in Trenton State Prison, the inmates, clad in either orange or light blue jumpsuits, were let into the yard for some time away from their cells.

Wearing an orange jumpsuit, and an ankle monitor around his left ankle, Robert Chase swept his wavy blonde hair away from his face as he glanced across the prison yard as he waited for his fellow inmate.

Two minutes later, he saw Clayton Rivers nod at him, as he made his way over.

"Hey," Clayton said, once Chase approached.

The two men started to venture side by side across the yard. The basketball court was occupied, so they could not partake in their daily routine of shooting hoops.

"How's work release?"

Chase shrugged. It's alright," he said without much enthusiasm.

"Hey, it's got to be better than sitting here most of the day," Clayton argued.

"Yeah, I guess, if you look at it that way.

"Has House let up on you yet?

Chase gave a sarcastic chuckle. "Not a chance."

He paused.

"It wasn't a mistake to him," he continued, quietly.

"How long do you have?"

"Fourteen months.
And then what?"

Chase shrugged again, as he thought to himself. "Don't know. I'm not even sure House wants me back on his team."

Clayton raised an eyebrow, curiously. "Do you blame him?"

"No."

"You can get a job somewhere else," Clayton told him, trying to be helpful.

"Yeah," Chase began, as he scoffed sarcastically, "A doctor with a criminal - with a record, that'll make the hiring process go smoothly for sure..."

"Robert, you work for one of the top respected doctor's in the entire country - hell, in the entire world! That has to count for something!"

Chase was silent, as he was preoccupied in his thoughts. He hadn't thought about after his sentence was over. What would actually happen?

Yes, of course. He wanted his old job back, but could he handle it? Working for someone who would most likely despise him for the rest of his life? He knew House still held him fully responsible for what had happened to Cuddy.

'Every time he looks at me, he'll be reminded of what happened that night for the rest of his life,' Chase thought bitterly. 'And it's all my fault.'

He was jolted out of his thoughts as Clayton was speaking.

"My appeal is next week."

"Really? That's great!" Chase replied.

"Meeting with my lawyer on Monday. He says it's good news."

"Fingers crossed," Chase told him. He paused as he watched Clayton stuff his hands in his pockets.

"What exactly are you in here for?" he asked, slowly. He was somewhat shocked that i the short time he had known Clayton that he learned a lot about his background, his family, but never the reason that made him live in a jail cell.

"I was set up."

Chase stared at him as they continued to walk around the yard. He wasn't sure the inmate in front of him was being entirely forthcoming.

"What? C'mon, seriously?"

"I was managing a club when it got raided. Somehow, when the cops showed up, it was me and two other guys, who were white, I might add, and I was blamed," Clayton told him calmly. "They both said they saw me with the gun that fired. They definitely were 'paid off' to say that...I stayed behind to make sure everyone got out safely."

Chase was dumbfounded.

"So you're in here, instead of the person who really had the gun, and started the raid."

Clayton nodded. "The police told me three people were shot, one of them later died from injuries, and according to my lawyer, ballistics tested the gun."

"But your prints won't be on it! They'll see that!" Chase exclaimed. "Think they'll get the guy who really did this?"

"Don't know," Clayton replied, "My lawyer said something about a retrial. He said he's trying to petition for 'habeas corpus', so that I can appear and plead my case in prison, because, right now, all the jury sees is a black man who eye witnesses say had a gun and fired. So, you see why it'll be better coming from me instead of him..."

"Damn," Chase said, "Good luck."

Clay nodded. He hesitated, as he cocked an eyebrow.

"Not what you were expecting?"

Now it was Chase's turn to hesitate briefly. "...not exactly," he started slowly, "hell, I don't know what I was expecting, honestly."

He paused again, while Clayton waited patiently.

"It's just...it's not every day you run into a guy who is in prison for a crime he didn't commit."

"Yeah, well," Clayton told him, smirking, "I guess that makes two of us: I didn't expect to be talking to a felon who works under one of the most brilliant, respected doctors' in the country, let alone in the world!"

Chase chuckled. "Touché."

"Hey, I know a lawyer," he continued slowly, "you know, if you ever wanted a second opinion...doesn't have to be formal or anything, just to see what she says about your case..."

Clayton looked at him hard, almost skeptical. "Thanks," he finally said. "I'll let you know how it works out."

Their time in the yard was almost up. They were called to form a line to head inside.

"See you at dinner," Chase called to Clayton, as the two of them stood in separate lines, waiting to go back inside to their respective holding cells.

Cuddy placed the toilet seat down, wiping her mouth with a cloth after lushing the toilet. The sudden urge to vomit was nothing new - Parker had told her that the 'morning sickness' could last throughout the entire pregnancy.

She was feeling extremely fatigued, with the stress of work finally overwhelming her, not to mention the sudden unexpected death of the hospital's Chief Financial Officer, as well as the ongoing stress of the future merger between PPTH and the University Medical Center, and just the day-to-day operations of being Dean of Medicine, having the hospital run smoothly.

House, who had been worried, had told her that they had no plans over the weekend, so that she, Cuddy, could catch up on sleep, rest and relax. She fought him, but in the end, she compiled, knowing she could use the rest.

Refraining from checking her phone or email, Cuddy had gone into the bathroom to take a nice long, hot shower.

...

House, who was in the kitchen making eggs for breakfast, reached over to open the cabinet beside the stove, and grabbed a plate and the jar of oregano from the spice cabinet. He was about to make himself a plate when he noticed Cuddy come wandering into the kitchen, dressed in dark green t-shirt and a pair of black yoga pants, her curly black hair still damp from the shower.

As she took a step into the kitchen, Cuddy closed her eyes and took a breath. The room was spinning, she was so dizzy.

"Greg, I -" She placed her hand on the wall of the kitchen to steady herself, and willed herself not to vomit again.

House, immediately sensing something was wrong, rushed over to her, taking hold of her upper arm. "What's up?"

"Dizzy."

Reaching over, House quickly turned off the burner with one hand, and grabbed his cane that was leaning against the cabinet beside the stove; his other hand gripped Cuddy's upper arm. He led her to the living room and helped her lie down on the couch on her back.

"What's going on? Are the contractions -"

"Not anymore," Cuddy cut him off as she shook her head. "Just really dizzy and nauseous." She picked up her head as House placed a pillow underneath.

"Did you vomit today?"

She nodded, shielding her eyes with her hand.

"You're sweating," House noted, "You feeling ok?"

She shook her head.

Bending down, House kissed the top of her head. "I'm calling Joe."

He pulled away, but not before Cuddy grabbed his hand.

"I'm not going to the hospital."

House looked at her, concerned, slightly amused. "You might not have a choice."

"I'm okay, I'm just worn down," Cuddy stressed adamantly.

"I'm still calling Joe." He grabbed his cane, and limped into the kitchen, slipping his phone out of his front jeans pocket.

He scrolled through his contacts until he found the one he was looking for. Bringing his phone to his ear, he waited, hoping that the obstetrician picked up his phone.

"You should have called me last night," Joseph Parker, head of obstetrics at PPTH, spoke into the phone.

He was sitting in the passenger seat while Nancy, his wife, was driving. They were on the way to meet another couple for a late breakfast in downtown Princeton.

"I know," House replied, "I should have." He proceeded to tell Parker about Cuddy's dizzy spell she just experienced.

"She's stressed out, and this isn't helping," Parker told him over the phone, "Did you take her BP?"

"Not yet."

"Do that, and then call me back. Text me your address. I have a general idea of where it is."

He looked over at Nancy, and smiled apologetically. She waved her hand. "It's fine."

Parker turned his attention back to the phone. "With the Braxton Hicks and the dizziness, I'm concerned that she's dehydrated, " he spoke. "And you're absolutely sure it's not preterm labor?"

"Yeah, contractions weren't increasing; they weren't regular at all; no pelvic pressure or back pain."

He paused, and then said quietly, "She doesn't want to go to the hospital."

"Doesn't have to," Parker told him, casually. "If she needs fluids, then we can do them at the house."

"Did the contractions stop?" he continued.

"Yeah."

"Good. Alright, text me your address. Check her BP. I'll see you in about oh, fifteen to twenty minutes."

~~ Cuddy residence~~

"Your pulse is pretty weak."

Parker sat on the edge of the couch beside Cuddy, a stethoscope around his neck, and a blood pressure cuff lay open on the coffee table, as he assessed his patient.

"The contractions stopped last night? You didn't feel anything this morning?"

Cuddy shook her head. "No, nothing."

"Well, it sounds like dehydration. And stress." Parker felt her glands. He sat back and looked at her.

"Stop working so hard."

Cuddy chuckled lightly. "Easier said than done."

"I'm serious, Lisa. This is serious. You know this." He paused, and then said, "You're lucky you didn't pass out in the shower."

"I want to check your amniotic fluid, but I can't do that here, so I'm going to start you on a fluid IV drip, and then tomorrow, I want you to come in and we'll do a quick exam."

"I don't want to go to the hospital," Cuddy told him, stubbornly. She went to sit up, but Parker immediately placed a firm hand on her shoulder.

"We'll do everything here. Just need to get the IV bags."

House, who had been silently watching the entire interaction from behind the couch, finally spoke.

"I'll do it."

Parker looked at him, carefully. "No. If anything, that will raise suspicion. Remember, we wanted to keep this under the radar as much as possible..."

"Which," he added, with a smile, "we're doing a pretty good job at."

He stood, grabbing the blood pressure cuff and the stethoscope. "I'll call Rebecca, see if she's there. She can bring the IVs here."

House was still looking skeptical.

"Look," Parker reassured him, "no one is going to ask questions if she does it. You? People will start questioning why you are at the hospital on a Sunday, not to mention carrying two bags of fluids out the door, mind you..."

Cuddy spoke, from her spot on the couch.

"Joe's right."

"Then it's settled." Parker excused himself and walked outside to call Rebecca, the nurse who had been involved in Cuddy's care, and to speak to his wife, who had been waiting in the car, parked on the street.

Inside the house, House limped over and sat down in the spot where Parker had just vacated. He rested his hand on her thigh, as he caressed it gently.

"I'm sorry," Cuddy told him.

"For?"

"You didn't sign up for this," she continued quietly, as though he didn't speak.

House looked down at her sharply. Removing his hand from her thigh, he placed her hand in his.

"I signed up to be with you," he told her quietly, "And you know what? I've never been happier."

He paused. "Life just happens."

Leaning forward, he kissed her on the lips. Pulling back, he told her, "I just want you to focus on you now, and not the hospital, okay? Make you the priority."

Cuddy nodded.

Standing up, House grabbed his cane. "I'm gonna heat up my eggs." He limped into the kitchen and stayed there until he heard the front door open again.

~~ LATER THAT DAY~~

Parker had started Cuddy on intravenous fluids.

A couple of hours later, Cuddy had finally felt well enough to deal with some hospital business. House, who had been sitting in the armchair across from her, glanced up from reading the newspaper. He noticed that the bag of fluids next to was less than half-way empty.

"How do you feel?"

Pausing from typing on her laptop in front of her, Cuddy glanced over the screen at him. "Actually, a lot better."

"You hungry?"

Cuddy shook her head. "Not really, no."

"You should eat something." He paused. "And see how you feel before going in on Monday. Your meting isn't until Tuesday. I wouldn't push it."

Cuddy rolled her eyes but appreciated his concern.

"Don't overexert yourself."

Standing up, Cuddy gabbed onto the IV pole for support. "You know the problem with getting fluids AND being pregnant? Having to pee every fucking half hour!"

House chuckled.

"You could always work from home on Monday," House called out, as she ventured down the hallway towards the bathroom.

House's phone rang. He dug in his pocket.

"What?" he answered, annoyed.

"House, we just got a patient. I'm on the way to the hospital now -"

"Cameron, it's my day off."

"I know that – I got a call from the ER – you probably did too – thirty-something male, had a seizure, slurred speech, blurred vision…"

"It's probably drugs –"

Cameron interrupted him quickly. "Tox screen was negative."

She paused, knowing that piece of information might spark his interest. "No drugs, House."

"…While that is seriously intriguing, I'm not coming in. Get Foreman to come in. I'll see you tomorrow."

"But-"

"Cameron, I'm busy. Deal with it. Keep me updated. I'll see you tomorrow." He disconnected the call, slipping the phone back into his pocket, and leaning back in the chair.

He grinned as he saw Cuddy came sauntering toward him. "Nice waddle," he joked.

He recoiled as Cuddy came up to him and punched him on the arm.

"Not funny!"

"Oh I thought it was hilarious," he continued, grinning, "Oh relax, preggo, I was kidding…although your ass…super-tanker…"

"Ow!" He recoiled again when he felt another blow to the bicep.

"You're hurting the cripple!"

Cuddy rolled her eyes as she sat back down, pulling her laptop toward her. "Now THAT was well-deserved."

~~ TBC~~