Cuddy awoke with a jerk, the hospital room looking more and more clinical and sterile by the minute, due to the approaching morning light. She could see the sun rising, the sky an explosion of pinks and oranges, through the loosely drawn hospital blinds. It was different looking at this room from the point of view of a patient. The linens looked uncomfortably starched, and felt it, and the array of scary looking medical devices along the back wall and in the corner would have scared her, had she not already know exactly what they were used for.
She attempted to push herself up, but failed miserably. Pain shot from every nerve fibre in her body, stabbing at her limbs and face, making her instantly regret moving. Tears sprung to her bruised eyes, her shoulder aching and sides throbbing, the result of three broken ribs and severely dislocated shoulder. She glanced awkwardly at the unattractive black clompy sling that was currently adorning her arm, realising what a pain in ass it was going to be, since it was on her writing arm. Just her luck to dislocate the shoulder that she used frequently.
She flexed the fingers on her good arm. Was there any chance that she could learn to be ambidextrous in the next few hours? She didn't think so. Not since she couldn't sit up without pulling all the muscles in her neck, shoulders and back. Oh joy, this was going to make for a fun couple of days.
She twisted her head the merest inch to the left, successfully not aggravating any of her multiple injuries. She looked over at the strong man snoozing on the uncomfortable chair, his broad calloused hand still entwined with hers. Normally her delicate pale hand would have looked small and engulfed compared to his, but this time both their hands were streaked with dirt and dust, with Cuddy's dotted with scratches. They looked like a horribly unlucky pair, which they were, of course. It was kind of fitting.
She attempted to wriggle her hand out of his without waking him, as he just looked so tired. There were prominent bags standing out from under his eyes, and they looked sunken and sallow compared to their normal bright attentiveness. Cuddy adored his eyes, she did. She'd never seen eyes like his, never so inquisitive and wondering, like they pierced your very being when he was looking at you.
Wow, Cuddy thought, this morphine must be messing with my head.
Gently twisting her fingers, she tried to loosen them from his protective grasp. Predictably, she failed. As soon as her hand moved House's eyes snapped open, and he narrowed them at her. "I think this is the one time I'd outrun you if you tried to run away," he murmured, scrubbing his free over his stubble.
"I wasn't going anywhere," she told him. "I was merely trying to regain the blood flow to my hand. That's quite a death grip you have there."
He sneered jokily at her. "Watch it, woman. You're in a vulnerable position here."
"Don't you "woman" me," she scolded lightly, her feministic side shining through. Medicine was such a boys club, and after all the "nurse" comments during her internship calling people out on "woman" nicknames had become second nature.
"You are my woman now," House reminded her, "so I'll woman you whenever I want to."
"If that's your view," Cuddy teased, "then maybe I won't be your woman after all."
"Ow," House faked hurt, "we've barely been together twelve hours and you're already considering leaving me?" He pressed a finger to his chin in mock-thought. "Maybe this'll be harder than I thought... Dear God, I might have to actually put some effort into this?"
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Cuddy groaned, picking up the bed control in her hand and buzzing herself into a sitting position. She peered down to the nursery cot at the end of the bed, watching Rachel's little chest rise up and down in a rhythmic pattern. "She slept through?" She asked, impressed.
"Yeah," House relayed. "She doesn't normally?" He raised an eyebrow, which thankfully Cuddy didn't see.
"Difficult phase," she told him absentmindedly. "Nightmares."
"Of what?" He inquired, curious.
"You," she said automatically, then turned to him apologetically. "Sorry," she said ashamedly.
"Something's bothering your kid and you blame me?" He asked with mock outrage.
"Something's bothering anyone and I blame you," she remarked, smiling at him. House couldn't help his lip twitching to smile back, she just had that effect on him.
"So Rachel's just anyone?" House quipped, backing her into a corner.
"No," Cuddy said vehemently, wanting to cuddle the little girl to not daring to wake her up when she was slumbering so peacefully. "She's not just anyone," she alternated.
"No one with the Cuddy surname is just anyone," House said sweetly, but bashfully. This was obviously hard for him.
Cuddy gave a throaty chuckle, then coughed violently. She pressed her good hand to her heaving chest and gestured to the pitcher of water which was sitting on the tray table at the end of her bed. She assumed that there was still grit residue coating the back of her throat, nothing to worry about but highly annoying and uncomfortable.
House was immediately patting her back carefully, while skillfully pouring a glass of water with the other hand. "Drink," he commanded gruffly, holding the cup to her lips while rubbing concentric circles across her back.
She accepted the drink gratefully and slurped it down hungrily, having not eaten anything for twenty four hours. The water coursed down her damaged pharynx - inhaling dust infected air for hours on end could not do good to a throat - and she merely coughed more, the drink dislodging more of the leftover debris. She stuck her tongue out at the lip of the cup, like a stubborn child would with a disliked food.
"Drink it," House said evenly, but firmly, and Cuddy knew it was just for her wellbeing - that, or House's amusement, and she guessed there was a 50/50 of it being either.
Slowly, by the time she'd finished the glass, the liquid was going down easier and her throat was feeling clearer. House was right, of course. Fortunately, Cuddy was feeling a lot better and a hell of a lot more awake by the time the glass was finished, unfortunately, the commotion had stirred her sleeping infant. Rachel was now sitting up in her too small cot, peering awkwardly at her mother. "Mama?" Rachel said confusedly, taking a pajama footed foot in each chubby hand.
"Hi baby," Cuddy cooed/coughed from her position on the bed. "Did we wake you?"
Rachel nodded vigorously, as a toddler would, and then reached out for Cuddy. However the cot was a reasonable distance - okay, twenty centimetres - from the bed, but if she tried to get to her mother and crawled out of the cot then she could easily fall through the gap and hurt herself.
Cuddy, by this point, knew her little girl quite well, and knew that within the next minute she would stand up and try and cross the threshold, no doubt hurting herself. "House!" Cuddy gestured to Rachel, "get her and bring her here!"
House limped over and picked up the girl with ease. He tenderly tucked her against his hip, and Cuddy was amazed to see her bury her sleep addled head into his broad chest, much like Cuddy had.
House smiled weakly, awkwardly enjoying the position he was in. Contrary to popular belief, House didn't hate kids. He was certainly not fond of the idea of a long term child - like one of his own - but as long as it was sporadically, kids in general, he quite liked.
Kids have no internal filter, no censor that tells them to shush when they're about to say something really inappropriate or rude. Kids say it like it is, which he quite respects. So, in short, kids don't actually bother him. Babies, however...they're a different story. Babies just cry and poop and feed - and unless you get a good view of mommy's pair while she's doing - are generally annoying and always there.
But Rachel was no longer a baby, she was a toddler. And House had to admit, she was pretty damn cute. She had soft downy hair and big expressive dark eyes, which were currently boring into House.
He kept the little girl's intense gaze all the while moving back to Cuddy, who's arms were outstretched. "Hi sweetie," she breathed into Rachel's hair, smelling her intoxicating baby shampoo. Rachel immediately moulded herself to Cuddy, wrapping her little arms around her neck and curling her legs up in Cuddy's lap.
"Mommy," she mumbled, burying her head deep into the curve of Cuddy's neck. It had been confusing for her last night, when her mom hadn't come home and Lucas had brought her to the strange new place, where Mommy had been sleeping and she'd had to go to sleep in a really little bed.
Rachel didn't like confusing, she liked her mom. So now being back in her comforting arms was all she wanted.
Cuddy held the little girl tight in her grasp, hating that if anything had gone wrong yesterday she wouldn't have seen her again, wouldn't have held her. Her eyes filled with tears and she just cradled Rachel closer, suffocating her a little. She knew that crying at the drop of a hat wasn't good, but yesterday had been traumatic, and she was entitled to some tears.
Rachel looked up when she heard the small sob emit from Cuddy's mouth. She frowned and sloppily tried to wipe away the tears. "Mama no cry," she said adamantly, shaking her head.
"Sorry," Cuddy smiled, kissing her nose.
House stood beside Cuddy, watching on as she hugged and kissed her daughter. He'd resented Rachel at first for taking "mommy" away - though now that him and Cuddy were technically involved referring to her as "mom" in any context was kind of wrong - but he saw now that despite that, Rachel just made Cuddy amazingly happy. House was sure that he'd hear a lot of how much she enjoyed motherhood.
"I'm going to get your discharge papers," he mumbled, watching as Cuddy tickled Rachel and she shrieked with delighted laughter. "And I'll give you two a minute."
"Sure," Cuddy said absentmindedly, not really realising what he was saying. She certainly hadn't heard the part about her being discharged.
House left the room quietly, getting the papers that would allow him to take her home, finally.
.
When House came back in, clutching the forms, Cuddy was looking far more animated and awake, and was currently letting Rachel use her like a jungle gym. "Hey," he said easily, smiling at her glowing smile.
Sure, she was tired and battered and in pain, but she had House and Rachel, and Lucas was gone, and she was going home... And she was alive. How much better could a day get?
"Discharge papers!" House announced. It was odd seeing Lisa Cuddy as the patient name, not as the signing off name. And yes, House did appreciate the irony of Cuddy having to sign on both the patient signature and administrator lines.
He'd also nipped down to her office and retrieved the spare clothes that Cuddy kept in a weekend back under her desk. As Cuddy saw him bring out the bag, she was touched that knew about, and thought to bring it.
As she gently - albeit painfully - climbed out of bed, she instructed House to turn around.
"Why?" He asked incredulously.
"Because I'm all bruised," she pouted, "and that's not the first image I want you to have of my body."
"Fine," House accepted melodramatically, taking the baby from her so she could get changed. Unfortunately, most of the clothes were work clothes, so pretty well fitted. Cuddy couldn't wait to get home and change into her pajamas...loose clothes that weren't pushing on all her cuts.
"See?" She heard House say from outside the curtain. "Your mommy's being irrational. She thinks I care about her having been a knocked about, but I don't. Mommy's just crazy."
Cuddy laughed. "You love me really," she called out absentmindedly, trying to get into a shirt, but failing miserably, as one arm was completely useless.
There was a pause. "I do," he said sincerely.
Cuddy was stilled by his admission. "I love you too," she said quietly but clearly. She heard some rustling outside, and then House pulled open the curtain. And Cuddy care that she was standing there like an idiot with a dirty bra, bruised chest and giant velcro sling, looking on at him dreamily.
"I'm going to kiss you now," he said, then took her mouth in his. Much like last night, it was passionate and slow and knee buckling, and Cuddy honestly felt herself melting in his arms.
He pulled away after moment, earning a whimper of displeasure from Cuddy. "Get dressed," he ordered gently, "so I can take you home."
Cuddy looked at him. "Oh no House..." She shook her head. "You don't have to do that."
"I know," he said immediately. "I want to."
"But House..." She started again, but he pressed a finger to her lips.
"No buts," he shushed. "I'm taking you home, and that is that."
Cuddy leaned forward and let herself fall into his embrace, revelling in the sensation of being enveloped by him. "Help me?" She asked, holding up the shirt.
House smirked. "Always," he smiled, and proceeded to put it on, before taking her home with him, as he'd wanted to for the past year.