Chapter 3
Taub was walking quickly down the hall with House, towards the patient's room. He was explaining that the mother was irate, and thus refusing to pursue any other options for a marrow transplant, such as her estranged ex-husband.
"How on Earth can I not be a match!" the patient's mother shouted, when House entered. "She's my daughter! I gave birth to her!"
"You did," House replied condescendingly, pacing to the corner of the room and fiddling with his cane. "You just didn't give your DNA to her."
"I just cannot understand this!" she shouted.
"You don't need to understand it!" House shouted back. "You just need to let us do our job!" She glared at him. Cuddy entered, and from her face he could tell she'd heard the shouting. House calmed his tone and explained, "Look, you don't understand how the aspirin you take works, but when your head is pounding you swallow it. You don't understand how the water that comes out of the faucet is cleaned from all the shit and bacteria, but you drink it." The mother stared at him, looking dazed. "Even some of the smartest doctors in the world don't understand how a mother passes on different DNA to a child, but in a handful of cases it has happened," he stated clearly, "Whether we understand it or not." He looked at the audience. "I mean I understand it, but… You get my point." Cuddy shook her head in disgust.
"Mrs. Murphy," she said gently, "It is a medical phenomenon. It is not something we want to waste our precious time deciphering right now," she pleaded. "I know you love your daughter." Mrs. Murphy nodded. "And your job as her mom right now is to do everything you can to get her well." She nodded again. "Now if you give us permission to contact your ex-husband, we can do this without either you or your daughter even coming into contact with him."
Everyone waited.
"I can call him," Mrs. Murphy offered. "I want him to say yes… I'll call him."
"Whatever you like," Cuddy said. She squeezed the woman's shoulder, glanced at the team, and said, "Let's give her a few minutes." Taub and Chase breezed out. Then Cuddy and House stepped into the hall.
"Thank you," he said sheepishly, looking at the floor. He didn't like needing help. "I hate it when my patients fall into comas," he said. Cuddy nodded sympathetically. "Then I have to deal with their idiotic relatives." Cuddy stopped looking sympathetic.
"House, she's not an idiot. This case is one in a billion! She's upset."
"She's upset her daughter's dying and meanwhile she's holding up the process we have for saving her because of denial and some lover's tiff that's ancient history!" House shouted again. "It's illogical," he said more softly.
"It's not that easy to call her ex back into their lives. It's not that easy to do anything! She found out an hour ago that her DNA doesn't match her daughter's," Cuddy reminded him. "That makes her question everything… Is she technically her mother? Does she even know what she thinks she knows? Does she know her daughter? Does her daughter know her?" Cuddy was rambling, and stopped abruptly. She sighed, gaining her composure. "She just wants to feel like her mom… Like a good mom."
House looked at her. "Thanks again," he mumbled and turned on his heel to limp away.
[H] [H] [H]
Cuddy walked into the differential room and found House and Rachel seated at the table. Wilson stood between two white boards, one with House scrawled across the top and one with Rachel printed neatly. The team sat in the wings, watching while pretending to study patent files. "Okay, what's this?" she sighed.
"Hi, Mommy!" Rachel called.
"She's supposed to be in school! House, she can't miss school for one of your little stunts –" She was just riling herself up when House stood, walked over, and pushed her gently on the shoulders to get her into a chair.
"Relax," he replied. "I'll take her back in 15 minutes. You'll log some extra glue-eating time tonight and she'll be all caught up."
"How'd you even get her?" Cuddy continued. "You don't have a car seat. If you drove her around with no car seat I swear to GOD I will – "
"Relax," House repeated, his voice sounding like a hypnotist. "I stole your keys," he crooned. "She was safe as can be."
Cuddy sighed. "Honestly, does anyone even watch who goes into my office?"
"Not when donuts are delivered to the nurses' station," House told her, returning to his seat.
"Dr Lisa Cuddy!" Wilson sang out suddenly, and so loudly that everyone jumped. "Welcome to The Newishly-dating slash Oldymom Game!"
He paused.
"The what?" Cuddy inquired.
"Please don't make me say it again," Wilson begged. "It's like The Newlywed Game, but with House and Rachel instead of your new husband."
"What new husband?"
"On the show… They go on with the husbands and have to guess each other's cards." Wilson explained. "You've never heard of it?" he asked incredulously. Cuddy shook her head. "Oh my. Oh! Well there was this hilarious one where they asked about the strangest place they had ever made whoopee –"
"Wilson!" House barked. "Get one with it."
Wilson nodded. "YouTube it," he told Cuddy as an aside. She blinked."Okay so, Dr. Cuddy. You'll be asked to fill in the blank for cards associated with House and Rachel. We'll tally which person you know best to determine whom you should feel guilty about neglecting!" he cried in a game show host voice. Cuddy rolled her eyes. House gave a Let's get on with it gesture with his hands. He knew he had to keep the momentum going or Cuddy would bail.
"Alright, question number one," Wilson held up a large card and read it. "Rachel drives you crazy when she…"
There was a pregnant pause while Cuddy figured out this game and then thought about the answer. "Doesn't pick up her stuff from the kitchen floor?" she offered tentatively.
"Ding ding ding ding ding!" Wilson cheered, way too into this. He flipped over the card and it read "Leaves her toys on the kitchen floor." He put a hash mark on the Rachel white board.
"Okay, next." Wilson grabbed the next card."House drives you crazy when he…"
Cuddy rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on!" she protested. "This could be anything!"
"Ding ding ding ding ding!" Wilson was almost orgasmic with glee over this. He flipped the card over and it read "Does anything." The snickers from the peanut gallery in the back could not be stifled.
Wilson was doubled over laughing when House poked him in the ribs with his cane. "Let's stay focused, Pat Sajak."
"Right, okay." Wilson recovered and put a point down for House. "Next card. Rachel thinks you cook delicious…"
Cuddy rolled her eyes again. A cook, she was not. "Hot dogs," she answered, since that was pretty much all she attempted for her daughter.
"Yes!" Wilson cheered. He was ecstatic. "Next. House thinks you cook delicious…"
Cuddy sighed heavily. House always said that the only thing she should be allowed to cook is… "Microwave popcorn," she answered, much to Wilson's delight.
"It's neck and neck here, folks," Wilson stated to no one in particular.
"Are you a game show host, a sports commentator, or a douchbag?" House inquired.
"What's a douchbag?" Rachel asked.
"It's nothing, honey. I'll explain it later," Cuddy said quickly. She glared at House. "Next question," she barked at Wilson, wanting to get this stupid thing over with and get Rachel back to school.
"Rachel thinks you have the prettiest…" Wilson read.
"Hair," Cuddy answered without hesitation. Rachel loved her hair and always told her so. The card was flipped to confirm.
Wilson continued. "House thinks you have the prettiest…" Oh, Jesus. She knew what he'd say. She just knew it. And now she was supposed to say this in front of everyone? In front of her daughter? She couldn't do it.
"Smile," she said, without a hint of one. She met his eyes and he grimaced in disgust.
"Give me a break, Cuddy!" he said in exasperation.
"Come on, Mama!" Rachel chimed in. Cuddy looked at her.
"What? He does think I have a pretty smile.
"Mama, he thinks you have a pretty ass!" she cried.
The silence in that room made her ears ring. She could feel the energy of people trying not to laugh, especially a certain bearded cripple sitting three feet from her. Wilson bit his lip with nervousness then slowly flipped the card to reveal the word ass in black permanent marker.
"Rachel is now in the lead, folks," Wilson informed the room.
"Which means I am in the lead for who is being neglected," House pointed out with an exaggerated pout.
"House, she's four. She's my daughter. You're ridiculous," Cuddy retorted.
"All true. All unrelated."
"Next question!" Wilson interrupted. "You help Rachel get dressed by…"
Cuddy thought of their morning routine and how Rachel scampered out of her room every morning because she needed help "Buttoning her pants!" Cuddy was getting into this.
"Ding ding ding – ow!" Wilson's celebration was cut short by another cane to the ribs.
"Okay, so. You help House get – "
"Sometimes!" House emphasized. He looked embarrassed… House looked embarrassed.
"Right. Sorry." Wilson cleared his throat. "You sometimes help House get dressed by…"
Cuddy was stumped. Helping House get dressed? This sounded like a backwards sexual thing that was another attempt to embarrass her. She looked at him and ran her eyes from top to bottom, trying to think of what this could be. She saw his rumpled shirt, his baggy jeans, and then that Nike swoosh. She had it. In a respectfully quiet voice she said, "Tying his shoes."
No one laughed. Everyone had seen, at one time or another, House grimace when he had to bend to his shoe or the floor for some reason. In fact, this moment was embarrassing because of its intimacy. People in love do all kinds of things for each other that only they know about. What confused Cuddy was, why did he give that answer if he was embarrassed? Why even pick the question?
Wilson helped to move things along. "Rachel's favorite thing that you do on Saturdays is…" Cuddy knew this of course. On Saturdays she let Rachel watch TV and eat junk food in the evening. She said as much, delighting Wilson.
"Wilson, if you don't stop that 'dinging' I'm gonna throw you off the balcony!" House shouted. "You're the host, not the buzzer."
Wilson gave House a defiant, smug smirk. He knew when he was needed. "Moving on to the final question," he deflected. He looked right at House when he gave a dramatic, "Dunh dunh dunh!" for dramatic effect. "Cuddy, House's favorite thing that you do on Saturdays is…"
Her fear caught her by the throat. He wouldn't… It's House… But he couldn't… He'd love it… But she'd just die… But it's just so good…
She looked at him. He was reading her mind and smirking. The air hung heavy with anticipation. House gave the slightest shake of his head and winked at her. Oh, good God, thank you. Now she had to think about what the alternative answer would be. Saturdays… Saturdays… oh!
"I let him watch TV and eat junk food!" she shouted.
"Correct!" Wilson shouted. People politely applauded at the climax of this ridiculous game. "But that's not all folks!" Wilson continued, getting ever more energetic in his role. "Dr. Cuddy, in a clever twist of game show magic –"
"'Game show magic?'" House asked.
"Yes," Wilson said. "People say that."
"Who says that, Wilson?" House asked.
"Game show hosts."
House nodded sarcastically. How did he even gesture sarcastically?
"Anyway, Cuddy," Wilson recovered. "House and Rachel wrote each other's cards."
Cuddy didn't react, not really getting it, which disappointed Wilson.
"Cuddy, you see… They knew what each other's answers would be… And you knew the answers… Everybody's knowing everything!" Wilson proclaimed.
"Is it over?" Rachel asked. She looked at the white boards with concentration. "I have more points. I win!" she exclaimed.
"Yeah, big deal," House replied, leaning toward her over the table. "If I was cute and whined more, I'd have won." He stuck his tongue out at her.
"You whine plenty," she replied, sticking her tongue out at him. This made House break into an all out smile. "You gotta love this kid," he said, leaning back in his chair and talking to no one in particular.
Cuddy watched them, teasing and mimicking each other. She thought about the little facts represented in the game, and Wilson's point about them knowing each other's answers. She saw House's point now. Her time with House was not taking away from her time with Rachel. In fact, it just made Rachel's circle of people – narcissistic and manipulative and sex-obsessed as they might be – bigger. She didn't have to choose.
Everyone was standing now, getting busy with the business of their days. Rachel had gone into the hallway and was making faces at Wilson through the glass. Cuddy walked out to her, buying time to think about what to say to House. She was just telling Rachel that it was too late to bother going back to school when House and Wilson ambled out. There was a palpable energy in the air.
"C'mon, Rachel. I'll show you where we put the dead people," Wilson coaxed, disappearing with the child, leaving the two of them to talk.
Cuddy stood facing House. "Very clever," she commented with an arched brow.
House blinked and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smirking too much. "How have you never heard of The Newlywed Game?"
Cuddy ignored him. "So I'll see you tonight?
House gave a grimace. "I'd like to," he began, "But you weren't wanting me over so much... So I made plans." He loved teasing her.
"With who?" she asked, pouting ever-so-slightly.
"Well, now, let's think about this, Holmes."
"Wilson," she concluded.
"Ding ding ding ding ding!" he said softly.
"Tell Wilson you have to cancel," she ordered. She took a step closer. "I'll make it worth your while," she sang quietly.
"Oh yeah?... I want specifics."
"I'll do what you really like about Saturdays."
House grinned a wolfish grin. "I dunno," he hesitated. "I'm pretty sure Wilson's up for that too. He calls it the Bonus Round." Cuddy rolled her eyes. "Oh, but wait. He's too uptight. He'd never do a Saturday thing on a Thursday." He smiled down at her.
"So I'll see you later?" she asked. He nodded. Cuddy stretched up slightly and kissed him lightly. He didn't move a muscle, determined to maintain his cool, aloof image - at least within hospital walls. She turned and strode happily toward the elevator, her perfect ass sashaying from side to side. She added a little extra pep to her step, knowing full well that House was watching the whole time. She turned in the elevator and saw him leaning his shoulder against the door. She couldn't help but beam back at his deadpan face. He met her eyes and just as the elevator doors were sliding shut he called, "You do have a pretty smile."