A/N- I told myself I wasn't going to start each chapter of this story with an author's note, and yet, here I am. If A/Ns drive you absolutely crazy, let me know. I'll try to keep them down for sure. Thanks to all for reading and supporting so far! And to those who found their way over to Torch after reading this, thanks for following that journey too!
I know the subject matter of this story is uncomfortable for many, and I promise to treat it with the respect and deference it deserves. There will be no romanticizing of rape at all. The assault will be in story as there are parts of it that will be important for the story, but I'm trying to figure out how to do it without making it too awful as a reader. It will not be a smutty chapter at all. Obviously, what's happening will be referenced but not in a detailed, smutty way. At this point, I'm also thinking the assault will be its own clearly labeled chapter so you can easily avoid it if you need. Like I said, elements of it will be important as the story progresses so I'm thinking I can post a quick recap of important parts in an author's note (yeah, right after I said I was trying to avoid them, I know) at the top of the next chapter. I'm open to feedback on that strategy.
Again, thanks for the support. Your reviews mean so much!
House didn't want to be in the clinic. His mandatory four hours a week (plus whatever punitive hours Cuddy had assigned him… he'd lost count) were the highest form of torture imaginable. He was certain that if Dante ever spent time in the PPTH clinic, he would have declared it the Tenth Circle of Hell. With the sheer proximity of the clinic to Cuddy's office, he especially didn't want to be there now. It only increased the risk of running into her. Nearly a week had passed since their last awkward conversation in his office, and he still wasn't ready to face her. Wilson would argue something about feelings and being hurt by the fact that she hadn't acknowledged his gift, her desk. His attempt at a grand gesture. Well, he would if he knew about it, but telling Wilson would only fuel his meddling, and that was something House didn't want. No, it was better that Wilson never know about the desk and the history behind it or he would never stop with the feelings talk. House rolled his eyes at the thought. He didn't do feelings. He just didn't want to deal with the She-Devil and her feelings. The freeze could only last so long, and she would start screeching out her frustrations soon.
Really? I'm an idiot for being surprised.
Her words played in an endless loop in his head. Yeah, she would be in complete She-Devil mode for a while once the freeze ended. The best way to avoid that inevitable conclusion was to not give her a reason to hunt him down, and that unfortunately included slaving away in this Tenth Circle of Hell. Avoidance was the best strategy. It had nothing to do with his feelings—it was about avoiding hers. Except at that moment, he was standing at the reception desk in the clinic and staring into her office, staring at the desk he had delivered.
A file smacked him in the chest, abruptly interrupting his thoughts. Nurse Brenda was still holding the file, pushing it further into his chest with a smirk. He snarled at her and rubbed his chest with a terse, "God, doesn't anyone have any respect for cripples around here."
She rolled her eyes in reply. "Exam Room 2."
Skeptically, he flipped the file open and scanned the patient complaint. "Ew, no. Crotch rot." Tossing it aside, he reached for the files of patients waiting and flipped through them all. "More crotch rot." Toss. "Pregnant." Toss. When he opened the next file, he groaned, "Annnnd… crotch rot."
He ducked into an exam room and quickly exited, limping over to the crowded waiting area before exclaiming loudly, "Don't any of you idiots know how to use condoms?" Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the handful of condoms he'd taken from the exam room and started tossing them into the laps of the waiting patients. "Here. Use them and spare yourself any more visits here." Turning to the younger woman in the corner, he tossed the rest of the handful to her. "Make sure you use them for the next seven months or so especially. STDs can really hurt the development of your parasite. And here, you'll need some prenatals too." Pulling his prescription pad from the inside pocket of his jacket, he quickly scribbled out a prescription for the vitamins and handed it to the shocked woman. "Take them with a full glass of water. The fatigue should get better in the second trimester."
Limping back to the reception desk, House sneered at Nurse Jeffrey and ignored Nurse Brenda as he reached over to grab a red lollipop from the candy jar. He grabbed the clipboard and signed his name on the clinic log. "Dr. House checking out at 1:45."
Nurse Jeffrey refused to look up as he studied the file in his hands. Disdain radiated off of him, and he quipped, "Dr. Cuddy's not going to be happy when she hears about this."
"Oh goody… do you think she'll spank me? I love it when she gets all dominatrix on me." With that, he pulled an amber bottle from his pocket and shook out two Vicodin, tossing his head back to dry swallow them before making his way out of the clinic and to the elevators. General Hospital would be on soon, and he hadn't visited Coma Guy in a while.
When the page from Brenda came through reading "Clinic coverage needed," Cuddy groaned in frustration. She knew she shouldn't be surprised by it. In fact, she was more surprised when she approached the clinic doors earlier, intent on heading to her office, and saw House was actually in the clinic. He'd skipped all of his clinic hours for the last week, not even putting in the token effort to hole up in one of the exam rooms watching his portable TV. It was obvious he was avoiding her, too emotionally stunted even look at her or entertain a conversation after she'd finally attempted to move their relationship forward.
No matter what Wilson tried to say though, she wasn't avoiding House. She was just… busy. She had a hospital to run, donors to meet, budgets and proposals to review. And fragile egos to soothe, Lisa. Don't forget about all the damn fragile egos. She rubbed a temple at the thought, convincing herself she wasn't referring to her own ego or House's. Much of the morning had been occupied mediating some childish tiff between one of her surgeons and one of her cardiologists. No, there was no shortage of fragile egos in the hospital. She'd listened for as long as she could before telling the doctors in no uncertain terms that they needed to get over themselves and focus a bit more on patient care and a bit less on such silly conflicts. Watching them both go wide-eyed in shock and stutter out apologies and assurances that they would do just that had been satisfying. It always was when she was reminded of the power she held around the hospital. It grounded her in those times when she felt like her personal life was falling apart. Nevertheless, the drama had exhausted her, and she looked forward to collapsing on the sofa in her office to decompress.
That hadn't happened though. Just before she threw the clinic doors open, she saw House standing there with a file in hand. His position at the reception desk had him directly in the middle of her straight path to her office. She wasn't avoiding him. A confrontation would just add to her exhaustion and ruin her chance of decompressing in her office. Plus, she was relieved to see him in the clinic. It meant she wouldn't have to chase him down for another showdown over missed clinic hours. She was sure that's why he was there. He had to know the showdown was coming and the only way to keep avoiding her was to actually show up in the clinic. And the relief you feel about not having to chase him down means nothing. It's just something else you can check off your To Do list. Nothing to do with avoiding him. With a smile of satisfaction at taking "Force House to do his clinic hours" off her To Do list, she'd turned on a heel and decided she needed to check in with Radiology anyway.
When Amanda, one of the best radiology technologists in the hospital, greeted her with a clipped, "Dr. Cuddy. I was just coming to see you," she wondered why she hadn't just gone for a breather in the stairwell instead. But it was too late for that option so all she could do was smile and ask Amanda how she could help.
Amanda was about halfway through her rant about House's team commandeering the MRI and pushing their schedule off by 45 minutes when Brenda's page came through. The rant stopped and an eyebrow raised in question at Cuddy's groan. Cuddy knew she shouldn't be surprised. Of course House skipped out on his clinic duty. That was the natural order of things, not him spending time there without coaxing and threats of disembowelment. She also knew she shouldn't feel as relieved as she did to have an excuse to end this conversation. Yes, it was important, but she'd had it so many times that she felt like Radiology should know by now to pad the schedule to allow for House-related disturbances.
With an apologetic smile, Cuddy excused herself. "I'm sorry, Amanda. I have to go deal with this. I know you're frustrated, and I will deal with Diagnostics accordingly."
Before Amanda could protest, Cuddy was slipping out the door, Blackberry pressed to her ear, and a one sided conversation echoing in the halls.
"I'm sorry Brenda. I know. I'll have someone down there right away. No, I can't cover it right now. I'm supposed to meet with new prospective donors in—" With a glance at her watch, she suppressed another groan. Shit! "Actually, they'll be there any time. I'm on my way down now. If they get there before I do, can you offer them some coffee please? Yes, I know. I'm working on finding a new assistant. HR promised me they'd have someone soon. And call up to Diagnostics. They can send someone down to cover the clinic. I know. I don't care if they're getting annoyed having to cover House's hours. They all played his little game of Fellowship Survivor. They knew what they were getting into. Thanks Brenda. I owe you! I'll be right there."
She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders as she mentally added "Confront House about his clinic hours and proper scheduling of the MRI" back to her To Do List.
"Taub's pissed."
House sucked heavily on his straw, loudly slurping the last remnants of liquid from the bottom of his cup. "Not now, Wilson. They're about to reveal the father of Renee's twins. It could be anyone!"
Unphased, Wilson stalked over and grabbed the remote, turning the television off. "Taub's pissed and you're in here watching television and using Coma Guy as a lunch tray!"
"Excuse me Dr. Compassion, this is therapy for my dear friend Coma Guy. Studies have shown that auditory stimulus is good for coma patients! And he's better lunch company than some meddling Jews who only want to talk about feelings and my non-relationship with Cuddy." House glanced over at Wilson, taking in the crossed arms and scowl. "And of course Taub's pissed. He threw away a successful plastic surgery practice for meaningless philandering and is now working as a fellow. I'd be pissed too."
The rolled eyes and heavy sigh that Wilson offered in reply made House cringe, knowing a lecture was coming. "Yeah, I'm sure that's it. It has nothing to do with him being called down to cover your clinic hours for the third time this week."
"Like I said… he's working as a fellow. Grunt work is part of the job description."
"A fellow in Diagnostics, House! He was called away from the lab where he was running serums for your patient! If he wanted to spend all of his time working in a free clinic, he'd be working at one. He came here to learn from you!"
House perked up and turned to Wilson with a large smile, "Thanks! I'll have to remember that argument the next time Cuddy starts harping on me about my hours—"
"Which, strangely, she's not. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you're both avoiding one another."
Pensively, House stared at Wilson, taking in that revelation. It all suddenly made sense. Cuddy hadn't hunted him down yet. He'd been so happy with his successful avoidance of her that he hadn't even considered that she could be avoiding him too. He thought the new hiding places had thrown her off his trail this week, but he'd never managed to evade her this long. The She-Devil had some sort of House tracking device and always managed to turn up in the most remote corners of the hospital. No, Wilson's theory made more sense, and House was annoyed he hadn't been the one to realize it.
"—weird since she shared your office. What happened between you?" Apparently, the lectured had continued while he contemplated Cuddy's mutual avoidance.
"I always avoid the She-Devil, Wilson. It's the best way I've found to not be forced to complete pedantic chores like clinic duty. This is normal, not weird."
"No. Normal is you avoid clinic duty, Cuddy chases you down, you leer, she threatens to take away your toys, you make some grossly inappropriate comment about her body, then you go take a patient and hide in an exam room with them for an hour. That's normal."
"I have missed Patty and Selma recently. How low cut is her shirt today?"
Wilson threw his hands in the air, waving them in frustration. "You need to fix this, House. She's the only administrator crazy enough to keep you employed. You can't hide from each other forever." He turned and started toward the door.
House stopped him just before he could leave. "Hey Wilson." If Wilson dared to hope this was one of House's door knob style acknowledgements or confessions, he was greatly disappointed. "Send Kutner down to relieve Taub. If he thinks he's good enough to use my name to run an online clinic, he should be good enough to cover my clinic hours." The television flicked back on, signaling the conversation was over.
Huh. So Cuddy's avoiding me too. That's… interesting.
The soap opera could no longer hold his attention.
Despite its rocky start (she was waylaid three times on her way to her office and ten minutes late), the meeting with the Ashcombs went better than she had dared to hope it would. Soliciting donations for the hospital wasn't always an easy task. Donations for Pediatrics? Easy. Just a few phone calls and it was done. Oncology? Everyone loved feeling like they were doing something to help cure cancer. Even Diagnostics, as frustrating as the whole damn department could be, generated donations without any hard-sell needed. Unfortunately, none of those departments were the ones she was asking the Ashcombs to direct a donation toward. Gastroenterology needed equipment upgrades and at least one new doctor, preferably two. But intestines and digestive conditions weren't sexy or cute or at all appealing to the average philanthropist. Drumming up money for them required every watt of the mega-watt smile she reserved for these instances. Every ounce of charm she could muster. Truly, it required everything she had available to give. So when the Ascombs committed five hundred thousand dollars to be earmarked for Gastroenterology, Cuddy barely suppressed the urge to pump a fist in the air and shout in victory. It felt like the first win she'd had all day… maybe even all week.
Brenda caught her eye as she walked the new donors to the door and raised an eyebrow in question. Her cheeks ached from the hour and a half of smiling and charming—oh God, I can never say that to House. The blow job jokes world never end—but she flashed Brenda a wide smile and thumbs up, chuckling at the, "You go girl!" that was mouthed in response.
Drawing strength from the victory, Cuddy decided it was time to confront her rogue diagnostician. As she made her way toward the elevator, she called over her shoulder, "I'll be back. I need to do a bit of House hunting." Brenda's laughter followed her out the door.
House heard her before he saw her, heels clicking down the hall in short, pointed steps. He knew the sounds of all of Cuddy's strides, and this one did not sound promising. Briefly, he considered making an escape by way of his balcony. She was too close for him to try to slip out of the office and down the hall. She would see him and could outrun him, even in those ridiculously high heels. With a quick glance outside, he realized a balcony escape wasn't much better. The cold rain would be torture on his leg if he tried to hide outside, and he couldn't escape to Wilson's office. Not only would she check there next, Wilson would just start nagging him again. Facing Cuddy would be easier than sitting through another one of Wilson's reproaches. No, his best option was to stand (or sit) his ground. He flipped open the journal on his desk, feigning total immersion in it, before she pushed his door open.
"House! I—"
He sat back in his chair, sliding the reading glasses off his nose, as he cut her off, "Yeah, yeah, I know Boss Lady. Clinic duty. Don't you ever get tired of this lecture?"
"Do you?"
"Nope. Like you've said before, this is fun." He skipped over the "you make me miserable. I make you miserable" part. That wasn't fun anymore, and they both knew it. It was no longer just professional misery they were subjecting on each other. Wilson, stop planting this feelings crap in my head. "Calm down. Clinic was covered. My team—"
"Your team covered it after someone had to track them down because you left it uncovered! And they're your hours, House, not your team's."
"What's it matter who does them if they get done?"
"Maybe it matters because of a little thing called your employment contract?"
"I still don't know why I signed it with that ridiculous clause in it."
Cuddy chuckled as she strode across the room and leaned forward, pressing her palms down on his desk. "You really didn't have any leverage for negotiating. I held all the cards. I called the shots, just like I do now. You can make up your clinic hours tomorrow."
"But Mom, my patient might get really sick and need me."
"Which is why it's a great thing you have a team of four qualified doctors who can take care of your patient and a cellphone they can call if they really need you. You'll do your hours. And you'll quit taking over the MRI whenever you please. Use the scheduler like everyone else."
He leaned back in his chair and threaded his fingers behind his head. She looked satisfied, like she felt like she'd won. It was time to play the trump card that Wilson handed him earlier. "You know what's funny?"
Cuddy narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion. He looked too smug for her to feel comfortable. "That you'll be wiping noses all day tomorrow?"
"No, that last week I couldn't get you out of this office and this week, you were nowhere to be found. I skipped clinic all week, didn't have a patient for days, and yet, you're just now tracking me down. It's interesting." He leaned forward a bit, tilting his head to peer down her shirt. "Not quite as interesting as the view right now- love the demi cup on you. But interesting."
She straightened herself, pulling her shoulders back to rise to full height as the accusation hung in the air between them. He'd turned the conversation around her her, subtly calling her out for avoiding him. The thought rankled her. It wasn't avoidance. This was just the first opportunity she'd had to confront him.
"I've been busy. Some people actually work around here."
He didn't want to push it further. He didn't want to have a conversation about what had changed since last week. He just wanted to put the thought in her head, push the button to end this conversation. If he said any more, he risked her deciding they needed to discuss things so he picked up his reading glasses and flipped the page of his journal. "Yeah, I'm sure that's it. So clinic hours. MRI. Anything else?"
She didn't answer, just turned to leave, satisfied for now that she'd done her job. As she pulled the door open, she heard him say her name and turned her head back.
He was quiet, voice low and somber. "I may be what you want, Cuddy… or what you think you want. But I'll never be what you need."
She lowered her head and worried her lip between her teeth. The acknowledgement of their personal situation caught her off guard. Slowly, she shook her head from side to side. "I just need you to do your job, House." She slipped out the door, soft steps echoing her retreat.
