A/N: Please review!
Disclaimer: I do not own House or Cuddy or Morphine (Damnit!).
I couldn't understand what the nurse on the phone had meant when I got up to House's room. Yes, he was awake but no, he wasn't throwing a fit.
"Hey there." I checked his chart like a good doctor but I already had it memorized, I didn't need to look at it, "How are you feeling?"
He didn't respond. I looked up from the clipboard and found him staring at me like he'd never seen me before, "House?"
"I've been better." His voice was strong for his condition but everything else about his body screamed 'I'm sick'. His normally cobalt blue eyes were gray and foggy, the lines on his face were so deep he looked like he was carved from rock, and his normally roguish facial hair had gone from bad to worse.
I put his chart back on the foot of his bed and crossed my arms, "We don't know if there's going to be any brain damage. You'll need to let us know if there's any memory loss or motor function loss. You seem to be okay though."
"It's the morphine." At least some of his old sense of humor hadn't been lost. I smirked at him and he smirked back.
I turned to leave, pretending to work even though I didn't want to, "I'm sure you'll let me know if you need anything."
"Cuddy."
I stopped, like people always do when called upon, and turned with my hand on the sliding door. I wasn't smiling anymore. I wasn't being the good doctor anymore.
"Don't go."
In any story, when a person is told to stay, they stay. This story isn't different and I'll stay, sure. But the emotions I'm feeling aren't the same as any story. House doesn't ask for help. House doesn't ask for a shoulder. House doesn't need help. House doesn't need a shoulder.
So who is this?
I walked back to his bed and sat back in the chair. What else was I supposed to do? It was silent and he stared at the ceiling. We sat like that for another hundred years. He stared at the ceiling and I stared at him. I memorized him like I'd memorized his chart. He knew I was staring but I don't think he cared. I remembered, years and years ago, in college actually, telling him that I'd always be there for him. That I'd always be there to hold his hand. He'd laughed at me and called me overly romantic.
Before I knew what I was doing, my hand was back in his and I was reliving that moment in college all over again. I wondered if he remembered.
"…and so I told the guy, 'You want your money? You go find Allen. He'll pay you the money.'" That was my voice but I didn't know what I was saying, "I think I'm dreaming."
"Cuddy?" It was an earthquake. I was in an earthquake on the east coast of the United States and I was going to die. I was shaking violently and I must have been in a closet. It was dark and a tight fit, my shoulders were touching the sides. Why was I in a closet?
"Cuddy!" I woke up. I was sitting in the chair in House's office. House was standing in front of me, Cameron behind him with a sheepish look on her face.
"Good lord! You sleep like the dead! In fact, I thought you were dead. I was beginning to mourn the loss of the best rack I've ever seen." He stepped back while I woke up. He was right to step back. He knew I was going to explode once I fully woke up.
"Where have you been? I've been waiting for you for twenty minutes. You have clinic duty!" I stood up and tried to smooth down my hair, and my somewhat bruised ego.
"More like an hour and a half-"
"House!" I jolted awake and he tried to grab my arm to keep me from falling out of the chair. We were still holding hands, though it was more like grabbing hands now.
"Wet dream?"
I rubbed my forehead with my left hand and scowled at him from underneath it. He squeezed my right one and I felt the message. He was sorry I'd had a nightmare.
When I was done waking up, he looked over at me, "You caught me in a curious mood and I just woke up myself. What was your dream about?"
I contemplated telling him and decided against it. After all, I didn't know myself, "I can't really remember. It was dark and I thought there was an earthquake and someone kept yelling my name and then I woke up."
"What a buzz kill." He didn't press the issue and I silently thanked him.
I looked at my watch and gawked. It was nearly dinner time and all I'd had to eat today was a small bag of cheese crackers. I couldn't believe I'd slept so soundly for so long.
I looked over and House and he looked back at me expectantly, "I need to go order you some food, otherwise you won't get any."
"No need, I'll come downstairs with you." He actually sat up and I laughed at him.
"Oh no! You lay back down. I'm not letting you out of this bed until you're in peak physical condition. The last time I let you go walking around after an injury, you went into cardiac arrest and almost died." I stood up and put a hand on his chest, forcing him to lay back down. He wasn't strong enough to fight me yet. He knew he wasn't going to leave the room yet, he was just testing me to see how far he could get.
"I did die." I gave him a look and he gave it right back. I rolled my eyes at him and thought for a second. I needed to come up with a compromise, otherwise I'd be in here all night arguing.
"Alright, what if I brought us both food up here?" I looked down at him hopefully and he looked positive.
"You know what I want." His eyes said something I couldn't understand but I did understand the words.
"Yeah." I started to walk out the door, checking my pockets for money.
He called out to me before I could make it all the way, "And get me some of those mashed potatoes they make."
"Okay." I threw it over my shoulder and pulled the sliding door open I stepped threw and turned around to slide it shut again, looking at him one last time.
"And a Sprite!" He yelled at me with a childish look on his face that made me laugh out loud. I nodded at him and he smiled.
At least something was going right.