A/N: Thank for the lovely reviews! And again, thanks of House's House of Whining and clinic_duty on LJ. And House MD Screencaps.
To answer one reviewer's question, Rachel Cuddy was referring to her domicile. She'd made new friends in the intervening 21 months.
His den was the closest thing to a man-cave Wilson allowed himself; cozy, solid brown leather furniture, some tasteful sketches on the wall in simple frames. He liked to read in here, because without House, the apartment felt too large and empty.
The cellphone rang. He picked it up.
"Wilson? It's Cuddy." Her voice was ragged.
"Oh, no, you've been with that committee."
"It's—it's been—" her voice broke. "Please, meet me for a drink. Somewhere with a back booth and dim lighting."
"Ordinarily that would sound like a come-on—"
"If George Clooney showed up here naked I wouldn't care."
Cuddy was huddled in the curved corner back booth in the steakhouse, an empty martini glass in front of her.
"Would you care for another, madam?"
"Yes."
"Lisa!" Wilson opened his arms. She stood and practically fell against him. It wasn't drunkenness, it was relief.
"Wilson, you have no idea how good it is to see you again," Cuddy whispered. "This week—it's like a bad dream. A bad dream I can't escape."
She sat down and scooted over to one side. Wilson hung up his coat and sat beside her. Cuddy looked awful. Pale, tired, exhausted. Her usual impeccable grooming had given way to careless hair and no jewelry.
"If it's any consolation, I wanted to kill them all by the time they were finished with me. Are you done?" He signaled the waiter for a martini.
"No." She closed her eyes. "It's going to go on and on and on..."
"That's how they grind you down, Lisa. By the end I was babbling that House was a far better friend to me than I was to him."
She laughed half-heartedly. "I've been in that torture chamber for days. Have you ever been involved with a cult?"
"Of course not." Wilson stared at Cuddy. "You have?"
"I was up for anything when I was in high school. I had a thing with this guy who was a member of—what was it called—EST. Later it became The Forum, I think. They keep asking you the same questions, telling you that you're—" she hesitated, obviously embarrassed. "An asshole. All of these people around me, they had these weird smiles on their faces, asking me over and over what my name was, what was my phone number, what color was my hair. Each time I answered, the leader would tell me I was an asshole and he'd repeat the question. I couldn't stand it. I pushed my way out of the room, even past the men who were at each door to make sure we couldn't leave." She shuddered. "I haven't thought of that in years. But now I keep remembering."
The waiter brought their martinis. Cuddy gulped hers down.
"Slow down, Lisa, you don't want to face that bunch with a hangover."
"What difference does it make? Do you know, they think I created the Diagnostics Department as a sop to keep him from suing the hospital? That's why I hired him?" She rubbed her forehead.
"But he'd been an attending for over three years in infectious diseases."
"I know that! For some reason they don't. How's Stacey doing?"
"She's pretty pissed."
"When I was appointed Dean of Medicine I created the Diagnostics Department. House's genius was being wasted. And gave him tenure so he wouldn't quit on a whim. Even though he'd almost been fired—again—by the two Deans of Medicine who worked there before I did."
"Lisa—"
"I could have paid him more. But wasn't $240,000 enough? House cost the hospital a fortune. The hospital lost Vogler's $100 million when we both stood up for House, remember? Right from the beginning he was trouble."
"Don't go there. You kept him there for years when any other hospital administrator would have had House out on his ass long before. But you two played a lot of screwed up games with each other." Wilson rubbed the back of his neck. "It was always a power struggle, wasn't it? Both of you trying to be the alpha wolf."
"I'd be lying if I said no. He pushed and pushed and pushed, and dammit, I pushed back." Cuddy's eyes widened. "The panel brought up our one-night-stand! What business is that of anybody's. You know that's what it was. I told House I had no expectations. So we flirted, so what? They accused me of taunting House with my body."
"Well, you did." Wilson smiled. "You taunted everyone with your body."
"My point exactly! I interacted with hundreds of people a day, including donors, doctors, patients, staff—I've always dressed that way. For one thing, it threw people—men-off. Men don't always expect sexy women to be smart. For another, I work hard to keep this figure and I like to show it off. Oh, wait, that woman at the end thinks it's a felony."
"Vindictive bitch is my pet name for her." Wilson ordered another round of martinis, and two Caesar salads. If they were going to drink this much, they'd better have something in their stomachs. He took a piece of olive bread from the bread basket with the pair of small tongs and put it on her bread plate. "Eat. Somehow I think eating is low on your priority list."
"VB keeps on referring to House as my 'disabled employee'. There are stools and chairs and examining tables in the goddamn clinic! House slept on the tables in the clinic! House hid from me in the clinic!" She gave a bitter laugh, flicking a stray strand of brown hair from her face. "They said most of the lawsuits against him were settled. Somehow that bunch of financial geniuses don't know what 'settle' means. It means paying The Party of The First Part almost enough to wipe out the profits for an entire quarter. GOD, if only one of them had to run a hospital."
"After this is over, a suit for invasion of privacy is probably in order, don't you think? And coercion?"
"Yeah...but somehow I have to live through the next however many days." Cuddy looked down at her salad. "Wilson, what did we do to deserve all of this?"
Wilson sighed, at a loss. "I suppose we'll find out. You know, there's an Inquiry support group twice a week. You might want to stop in. I can drive you there."
Her gaze turned back to him. "Oh, God, yes. Sign me up."