A/N Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed. I've tried to respond to everyone. If I missed you, I'm sorry. It wasn't intentional. Please keep them coming. A couple of the reviews inspired this chapter. It started out happy and turned into an angst fest. As usual, they wouldn't listen to me. House may be a little OOC. I've tried to keep him IC; but, this is my version of House, so I figure I can write him how I want.
Disclaimer Seriously? Do we think David Shore would pay me for this? (Although I do think I'm doing a much better job with Cuddy than the real writers have been lately.)
As was usual, House woke slowly. Weak sunlight filtered through the blinds and played across his still closed eyes. He stretched one hand above his head and the other to the side. He was vaguely aware of the absence of another body next to him. The gentle hum of the central heat was the only noise in the room. He cautiously moved his right leg and groaned at the stiffness. A small grin flitted across his face when memories of the activities that caused the stiffness flashed through his mind.
At the sound of a soft giggle, House rolled his head to the side and opened one eye. Rachel sat on the bed next to him. She was still dressed in her footed pajamas and her hair was a mess of brown tangles. The toddler had the ever-present, purple rabbit tucked under one arm. House did a quick inventory and was relieved that under the covers he was at least wearing a pair of boxers.
"Hi," Rachel greeted him.
"Hi," House replied before he asked, "What are you doing?"
"I wait for you," she informed him in a tone that suggested he needed to get with the program.
"Why?" He knew his brain still wasn't functioning at full capacity, but House couldn't remember any event that required his presence.
"I hungry," again Rachel seemed to think the reason should be obvious.
Now he opened the other eye and looked around the room. "Where's your mom?"
When Rachel gestured in the direction of the living room, House frowned. "So, tell her you're hungry."
"Want pancakes." Rachel stared at him with those huge, brown eyes and waited for him to make the connection.
"You want me to make you pancakes?" Finally, House's brain was catching on to the thought processes of a hungry toddler. He had eaten her mother's version of pancakes. He didn't blame the kid for asking him to cook.
"Yes," she told him and smiled that adorable smile that worked on him every time.
"Your mom can make pancakes. Wake me up when they're ready." House closed his eyes and pretended to go back to sleep.
"No!" Rachel leaned over and shook his shoulder. "You make them."
"I'm sleeping," House mumbled and tried not to grin.
"No you're not." Rachel poked him on the shoulder. "Hows, I hungry."
House finally gave in and opened his eyes. Rachel was still staring at him and now she was employing the poor, pitiful look that always touched a place in his heart. House knew it was an act, but he couldn't resist.
"Please, Hows," she turned the pitiful look up a notch to shameless begging.
"Fine. Go wait in the hall," House told her.
"Why?" Rachel asked with the innocence of a child.
"Because, I need to get dressed." There was no way Greg House was going to parade around in front of a toddler in just his underwear.
Rachel slid from the mattress and ran towards the door. At the last minute, she stopped and turned towards him. She placed her tiny hands on her nonexistent hips and stared him down. Her skeptical expression clearly said she thought this was some sort of trick.
"I'm getting up," House told her. He waved his hand towards the door in a shooing motion. When Rachel shut the door softly behind her, House ran a hand through his hair and over his face. He looked at the alarm clock and groaned. Usually it took a dying patient to get him out of bed at six-thirty on a Saturday morning.
Lisa Cuddy was balanced on her yoga mat. She focused on her breathing and stretched her back and neck. The sound of Rachel's high pitched shrieks and giggles broke the silence of the quiet morning. The sound of a cane on the hardwood floor of the hallway drew her attention in that direction. Her eyes widened in surprise as she saw her boyfriend limp into the living room. The cane was in his right hand as usual. His left arm was wrapped around her daughter's waist and he was carrying Rachel slung over his arm like a sack of potatoes.
"What are you doing up so early?" Cuddy asked as she sat down on the mat.
"Making breakfast," House continued on to the kitchen with Rachel still giggling from her upside down position across his arm.
Cuddy rose and followed them as far as the kitchen door. "I planned to make breakfast," she told him as she watched him place Rachel on the floor.
"I told Junior I'd make pancakes," House said as he stuck his head in the refrigerator. Rachel shimmed between House and the door and peered inside.
"I'll do it if you want me to," Cuddy said. She caught the way the pair looked at one another.
"That's okay. We'll take care of it. Why don't you go relax," House tried to sound nonchalant.
"Yeah, we do it. You 'lax, mommy," Rachel eagerly seconded the suggestion.
Cuddy crossed her arms over her chest. "You two just don't like my pancakes. Do you?"
House and Rachel shared a guilty look. He knew they were busted, but he tried to bluff their way out of it. "I just wanted to try out Wilson's recipe."
"You really shouldn't try to lie before you've had your coffee, Greg House," Cuddy told him with a sniff. "Since my culinary talents aren't appreciated, I'll just go read."
House looked down at Rachel and rolled his eyes. "Drama queen," he whispered not too softly.
Rachel giggled when her mother yelled, "I heard that."
House pulled ingredients from the refrigerator and the cabinets. He found a bowl and the griddle. When he had everything he needed he pulled a kitchen chair up to the counter. He picked Rachel up and stood her on the chair.
Rachel looked at him with a puzzled expression. "Gweg?" she questioned.
"Yes, but you don't get to call me that," House sighed when she still looked confused. "Your full name is Rachel Cuddy. Your mom's name is Lisa Cuddy. Mine is Greg House. Understand?"
"Yes," Rachel nodded with a smile and then looked at the counter. "I help you?"
"Of course. All great chiefs need an assistant." House measured and let Rachel pour the ingredients into the bowl. Then he showed the toddler how to stir the batter. He ignored Cuddy who had slipped back in to set the small table in the kitchen and to start the coffee maker. House did spare Cuddy the time for a quick kiss that caused Rachel to giggle. He figured he would do a proper job later when they didn't have a tiny chaperone.
House was pouring the first pancake when Rachel asked, "Hows?"
"Hmmm?" he responded as he picked up the spatula.
"I want a baby," the little girl informed him.
"You have a room full of dolls," he distractedly answered as he picked up the coffee cup Cuddy had left on the counter.
"No, not a doll. A baby." From her perch on the chair, Rachel looked at him with that too adorable smile.
House put his cup back on his counter. The image that flashed through his mind caused his heart to skip a beat. Whether his hands suddenly shook from fear or excitement, he couldn't say. He certainly refused to analyze why the image of a pregnant Cuddy had his heart racing.
"Babies aren't all that great." He looked at Rachel and hoped he sounded more confident than he felt. "All they do is sleep, cry and poop. And, they smell funny."
"But, I want a sister," Rachel whined.
House stalled by sliding the pancake from the griddle onto a platter and turning off the burner. He had no idea why this topic had come up. He had learned from experience that deflection didn't work well with a toddler, especially not this toddler. She was as stubborn and tenacious as her mother.
"Rachel," House looked down at her and knew he was about to disappoint her, "your mom and I can't have more babies."
"But, I want a sister," Rachel whined again and looked up at him with those huge, brown eyes.
House brushed her bangs out of her eyes. "I know, Sweetie. But, this time I can't get you what you want. You're going to be the only little girl we have."
House was surprised when she wrapped her thin, little arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest. He patted her on the back. This was his first almost-crisis as a quasi-parent. He was relieved to realize that apparently he hadn't messed up too much.
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House lay in bed and idly ran his hand up and down Cuddy's arm. She was snuggled on his right side with her head on his chest. They had spent a full day of playing with Rachel and being lazy. House had read every book Dr. Suess had written. He had played more games of Chutes and Ladders than he had played in his entire childhood and sang every Disney theme he knew twice.
"Rachel and I had a discussion this morning," House casually mentioned.
"Really? I bet that was an interesting conversation." Cuddy ran her hand across his broad, t-shirt covered chest.
"Hmmm…" House continued to stroke her arm. "She told me she wants a sister."
He felt her go completely still before she asked, "What did you tell her?"
"I told her she's going to be the only little girl we have." House paused to consider what he wanted to say. "I suppose this is something we should have discussed."
"I didn't think there was anything to discuss." Cuddy realized she had never even considered this becoming an issue.
"You went through months of expensive medical treatments trying to get pregnant. You expect me to believe you don't still want to have a baby?" House was confused. A piece of the puzzle was missing.
"House, I didn't want to add that kind of pressure to our relationship. It wouldn't be fair to either of us." Cuddy
"So, you do want a baby. Just not mine." House felt as if he had been shot through the heart. For someone who had always sworn he would never father a child, it was a totally irrational reaction; but, he couldn't stop the pang of disappointment. "I guess that's why you never asked me to be a sperm donor."
Cuddy quickly rose up on her left arm and looked at him. She could see the hurt in his eyes.
"House, that's not true." Cuddy tried to reassure him. "I would love to have your baby. And, I was going to ask you to be a donor. But, after I had the miscarriage, I decided to quit trying. I didn't want to go through that again. And, I couldn't ask you to go through it either."
House blinked up at her and frowned in confusion. "Miscarriage? What miscarriage?"
Cuddy closed her eyes and let her head fall forward. "I thought you knew."
"You never told me." House was still trying to make sense of this entire, surreal conversation.
"After the third IVF, you knew I was pregnant. You teased me about it. And, then I wasn't." Cuddy looked down at him and refused to cry. "I thought you hacked into my medical records."
"No, I didn't. I diagnosed it from the symptoms." House was trying to make all the pieces fit. "You kept denying it and I believed you. How far along were you?"
"Seven weeks." Cuddy laid her head on his chest.
House ran the timeframe through his mind. Suddenly, the picture was clear. Cuddy was shocked when he let out an explosive curse word she had never heard him use and then pushed roughly from the bed. She watched as he limped to stand in front of the window. He braced his hands on the frame and hung his head.
With his back still to her, House asked, "So, when I told you it was a good thing you never became a mother, it had just happened?"
Cuddy sat up on the bed. "Yes," she had to fight through the tears to answer.
House turned to face her. The look of misery on her face nearly brought him to his knees. "Dammit, Cuddy, don't you have any sense of self preservation? Why would you want to marry a monster like me?"
Cuddy sat up and wiped the tears from her face. "That was the most horrid, devastating thing you've ever said to me; but, I knew you were trying to detox by yourself. I knew it was the pain and the drugs talking. I talked to Wilson. I had a good, long cry and I got past it."
"You thought I knew about the miscarriage and could still say something like that." House leaned against the wall and unconsciously rubbed his thigh. "The fact that I didn't know doesn't change the fact that I'm cruel, heartless bastard."
From where she sat on the bed, Cuddy could see the contempt and self-loathing in his eyes. "Yes, you were," Cuddy agreed with him and winced at the look of utter devastation on his expressive face.
Cuddy swiped at the tears again and took a deep breath. "Why did you go to Mayfield?"
House pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. His voice was barely above a whisper when he answered, "You know why I went."
"I know about the hallucinations. They should have disappeared after the detox." Cuddy refused to back down. "I want to know why you didn't leave. Why did you stay and finish the program?"
"Cuddy…" he didn't know if he could lay his soul bare. Then he thought of the immense pain and suffering that he had caused this remarkable woman. House knew he could offer her no less than complete honesty. "I didn't want to live the rest of my life as a miserable, misanthropic bastard. I was tired of being alone. I knew Mayfield was my last chance to figure out how to be happy."
House slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor. He looked down at his lap as he continued, "I'm the best diagnostician in the country. I knew my problem wasn't just the drugs. I finally had to face the fact that I was mentally ill. I wasn't just self destructive any more. I was hurting everyone around me. I was going to end up killing someone else and probably myself."
Cuddy slid from the bed and sat cross-legged on the floor. She was close but not touching him. "That's why I was able to forgive you," she told him quietly.
House looked at her through eyes that were haunted by the excruciatingly, shameful memories. "I don't understand how you could."
"You said it yourself." Cuddy managed a small, watery smile. "Addiction is a mental illness. So is PTSD. Would you refuse to forgive a patient who had cancer or heart disease?"
"No," House answered in a hoarse whisper.
"That's why I don't blame you. You admitted you had a problem and you got help." Cuddy placed her hand on his where it rested on his leg. "I've seen how much you've changed. Oh, you're still House. You can be sarcastic, rude, arrogant and manipulative. But, you're more open and caring now. You don't deliberately try to hurt people."
She squeezed his hand and managed a stronger smile. "Before Mayfield you would never have told me you loved me. You especially wouldn't have said it to Rachel. I've seen how hard you're working to build a normal life. You came out of Mayfield a stronger person. I know you can still be an insensitive jerk, but I feel like I'm finally with the Greg House I fell in love with at Michigan."
"Cuddy," House twined his fingers through hers, "I'm sorry. I should have said that to you and to Wilson when I came home. You were wrong when you said I'm the most incredible person you know. That would be you. I know I don't deserve you. I could try for the rest of my life and still not be able to atone for all the misery I've caused you."
She cupped his cheek with her free hand. "I'm sorry, too. I should have known your actions were cries for help. Can we agree to leave the past in the past? No more dragging up who said or did what to whom?"
House nodded. "I'm tired of living in the past. It's not a nice place."
"It wasn't all bad, but I'm sure we do better in the future." Cuddy pretended to frown. "Now can we get off this cold floor?"
House huffed a small laugh. "Not exactly the most romantic setting, huh?"
"It's marginally better than the bathroom." Cuddy stood and offered him a hand.
When he had hauled himself to his feet, House wrapped her in a hug. The embrace wasn't sexual. It was much more intimate than that. It was about connection and finally giving her the last piece of his fragile heart. For the first time, House felt like he truly belonged here with this amazing woman.
When they were resettled in the bed, Cuddy was surprised when House retrieved his cell phone from the nightstand. From where she had her head nestled on his shoulder, she craned her neck to look at him. He still wore a serious, guilty expression as he squinted and dialed a number.
"Wilson," House said as soon as the call was answered, "I'm only going to say this one time. I'm sorry I've been such a self-centered, manipulative jackass. You've put up with more crap from me than you should have. Thank you for being my best friend and for always being there when I've needed you. See you tomorrow."
House disconnected the call and tossed the phone back on the table. "He's probably already calling to see if Mayfield has any openings."
Cuddy shook with laughter. "Poor Wilson. He probably thinks that call was the first sign of the Apocalypse."
House grinned. "Serves him right. He's always telling me how I should open up and share my feelings."
"Are we okay?" Cuddy ran her fingers across his chest.
"Yeah. You're right. No more looking back. From now on, we focus on the future. I'm sure I'm still going to be an arrogant, pain in the ass at work. I haven't changed that much." House played with the auburn curls that spilled over his arm. "But, I do promise I will try to be the best husband and father I can be. It may not be much; but, that's the all I have to offer."
Cuddy placed a soft kiss on his cheek. "I'm sure I'll still be a bossy, control freak at work. But, I promise to be the most supportive, loving wife I can be."
House couldn't stop a massive yawn. The long day and emotional discussion had left him wiped out. He groaned and pulled her closer to his side. "Can I get some sleep now? I've been up since 6:30. Keeping up with you and a toddler is tough on an old cripple."
Cuddy smiled and reminded him, "I told you to take a nap when Rachel did."
"Next time, I'll listen to you." House gave her a lingering kiss. "I love you, Lisa."
"I love you, too, Greg." Violet eyes met sky-blue ones and then they both burst out laughing.
"That was weird," House finally gasped.
"I don't care what my mother says." Cuddy wiped her eyes on the sheet. "I just can't do it."
"That's why we can make this work. We already know who we are." House kissed her again and then smiled. "I love you, Cuddy."
"That was better." Cuddy returned the smile and then kissed him. "I love you, House."
House looked to the door that had just opened. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as Rachel padded into the room. She stood next to the bed and stared at her mother and House.
"The moose is looking at me," she announced solemnly.
"Come on." House flipped back the covers and held out a hand. He ignored Cuddy's snort of amusement. Rachel tossed her rabbit on the bed and crawled up to lay with her tiny head on his left shoulder. As he closed his eyes, House couldn't stop the goofy grin that pulled at his lips. To some people, they might look dysfunctional; but, Greg House finally had a family. He drifted off to sleep with the loves of his life wrapped safely in his arms.