"Puppet Master"
Chapter Nine – "Building up the Drama"
By: Purpleu
House took a step back and looked into Lydia's eyes as he ran his hands up and down her arms. He leaned forward to give her a kiss, closing his eyes as he did so; if he had left them open, he would have seen that Lydia put up her hand to stop him.
"If you start kissing me here, we are never going to get in there," she said indicating the bedroom. "I set everything up earlier, so go inside and get semi-naked." House dropped his head back and rolled it to the side in delight.
"Oh, I love it when you talk like that," he said starting to move to the hallway. She was headed to the kitchen with the plates, but stopped to give him a look. "So…commanding, so dominating, so…Germanic," he said his voice dripping with sarcasm. Lydia shook her head.
"Get in there," she said pointing to the bedroom, "And please take this with you." She picked up her water bottle and tossed it to House. He caught it and started to walk down the hall. About halfway to the bedroom, he stopped, turned around and walked back toward the living room.
"Hey, Fraulein," House called out as he entered the room. Lydia poked her head out from the kitchen.
"Ja, Dr. House?"
"Hard to believe, but I'm being serious. I was thinking about the rocker. You're busy with interviews and you want to get your new place set up. You shouldn't try and rush into a decision about what to do with it just yet." Lydia threw her hands up.
"There's nothing to decide; it…I…it can't be fixed." House walked back over to her.
"You mean to tell me after all you two have been through together, you're giving up on it that easily?" She dropped her head down and gave a sideways glance to the chair. "Got an idea: we've killed enough trees here tonight with all the tissues we've used and if you leave it there," he said nodding toward the pile of wood, "we'll leave more squirrels without homes in the succeeding evenings. If you take it to your new place, you'll have the same results. I happen to know Wilson has a spare room he can easily put it in; out of sight, out of mind. After you get settled in, you can make a decision." Lydia looked at House hopefully.
"Are you sure he has room? Would he mind?" she asked. House smirked.
"For you, I know he wouldn't mind; and unless he's holding out on me, he definitely has the room." House took out his cell phone and pressed 'Dancing Queen' on his speed dial. In a few moments he heard Wilson's voice at the other end of the phone.
"So now you've added psychic ability to your list of talents?" Wilson asked as he picked up the call.
"Yeah, I predict in about eight hours or so, you will offer a ride in your car to a tall, dark and extremely cranky person. That would be me, in case you forgot." Wilson laughed.
"House, of all the things you are, forgettable is definitely not one of them. Why are you calling? Because I literally was just about to call you."
"That doesn't give me a case of the warm fuzzies. What's going on?"
"Tell me why you're calling. It's got to be better than what I have." House made a face; he didn't want to talk about the damn rocker. Wilson obviously had some news about the case and that was more important right now; to him, at least.
"The movers dropped Lydia's rocker and it was hit by a car. It was her grandmother's so she's kind of upset. It's pretty banged up and I don't know if it can be fixed. Wanted to put what's left of it somewhere so she doesn't have to look at it for a while. You still have my old bedroom available or have you started renting it out to young, nubile females in the hopes of snagging Mrs. Wilson number four?" Wilson let out an embarrassed sigh.
"The bedroom is still exactly the way it was when you left, preserved as a shrine to your time here," Wilson said. "And I'm not in search of Mrs. Wilson number four; I'm still trying to figure out how to get date number one with Annie."
"Great. We'll transfer possession to you tomorrow morning."
"Sure, not a problem. We however, have a problem and it's a big one. Davidson got the files put back without a hitch; when he was in the office, he checked the company calendar on the computer to see what was upcoming on the schedule and on Friday was written 'House wrecking starts this morning'. We need answers sooner rather than later. I was already planning on looking over the part of the files that I have; it concerns the accident." House thought for a moment.
"They did far more tests than were necessary considering that the kid probably didn't even hit his head," House said. "Take a look at the EEG. I want to pinpoint when he showed signs of autism or if he really even has it. Call Chase; tell him to put down whatever flavor he's working on, whether it's blonde, brunette or redhead and have him read over his set of files. He has birth to the accident?"
"Yeah and you have the report from St. James Hospital."
"OK, he has to look for the appearance of autism, too. Tell him to go right to any EEG's or clinical observations that would point to the problem. I'll see what the other hospital found as opposed to the BS Hunter provided to the court." Lydia had come out to the living room and was standing near House. He pointed at the rocker, then at his phone and gave a thumbs up. She smiled and mouthed the words 'thank you' as she walked back into the kitchen.
"Sounds like a plan. Tell Lydia no problem about putting the rocker here."
"See you dark and dusky," House said.
"Night," Wilson said as he ended the call. House clicked his phone and sat down on the couch staring off into space. Friday morning, two days. Hunter was giving them enough time so that they couldn't say they were rushed, but in reality, it was too short an amount of time to do a proper diagnosis. 'Mild autism' the report said; of course there were different levels within the autism spectrum, but which one was it? Without a definitive diagnosis, Hunter would find a way to tear apart their findings and make them look like idiots, thereby taking some pressure off himself. House looked over his shoulder to where he had dropped his backpack when he came in; he rose from the couch, picked it up and started to walk down the hall to his bedroom. He was going to have to look over the reports on Hunter's kid while Lydia did whatever it was she was going to do to his leg.
"Hon, I'm going to set up the coffee maker for tomorrow at six forty-five; is that good?" asked Lydia. House stopped and slowly turned his head in the direction that Lydia's voice came from.
"What did you say?" he asked as he walked back into the living room. Lydia came out from the kitchen.
"I said 'Hon, I'm going to set up the coffee maker for tomorrow at six forty-five; is that good?'" House smiled slightly as he slowly nodded his head.
"Fine," he said. He wanted to say something else, but decided against it and went on toward the bedroom. Lydia looked after him curiously, unsure of what just happened.
What happened is that she called House, 'Hon'. No one had ever called him by any term of endearment, not even Stacy. He noticed when Stacy brought her husband Mark to the hospital a few years ago that she called him 'Honey', but he was always just 'Greg'. House never had a pet name for her, it wasn't his style. He called her 'Stacy', which in and of itself was a big concession as he called everyone by their last names. House was sure he had picked up the habit from his father, since everyone with military training called each other by their last names; it made for greater clarity, especially in the battlefield.
Lydia called him 'Hon'; he had always thought that he would develop a permanent tic in his left eyebrow and break out in hives if anyone referred to him that way. It seemed too sappy and put upon, like you were trying to prove or quantify the affection you had for the other person. Coming from Lydia though, it seemed natural and real. House turned at the door to his bedroom and looked down the hallway; at some point, House was sure he would find fault with Lydia, she would do something to really annoy him or they would find they had a strong divergence on a philosophical point or something. For now, she was as close to perfection as he could get.
House walked over to what had become 'his' side of the bed and dropped his backpack. Looking at the bed, he saw that the covers had been folded back and a towel placed on the bed, approximately where his right thigh would go. There was another, smaller towel and a bottle that appeared to hold Lydia's miracle 'cures what ails you' oil on his nightstand. He started to read the propaganda on the back of the bottle, when something to his right caught his eye.
Laid out on the end of the bed was a Grateful Dead T-shirt. House saw it had a vintage look to it and when he picked it up, the shirt had a vintage feel as well. He looked at the label and saw it was a bit worn and faded. The designs on the front and back looked authentic; there was the well-known "steal your face" emblem that even non Deadheads would recognize and a reference to the New Year's Eve concert held at the Oakland Auditorium in 1980. Yep, House thought, this is the real deal.
"Do you like it?" Lydia asked, standing at the door of the bedroom.
"This is cool. What did you do, find an old hippie and mug him?" House was holding it up and admiring the artwork.
"No," Lydia said laughing. "The strip mall at the intersection of Route 3 and Hanover Street has several interesting stores. One was 'Mind and Body' which is where I got the massage oil for your leg. Another was called 'Faded Glory' and it had all sorts of vintage clothing; I think they were open only a few days because they were still working on setting up displays. This," said Lydia indicating the shirt, "was just being put on a hanger and hung in the window. I know you told me you love the Rolling Stones, but the shirts they had for them were either too new or the older ones were in bad shape. So, I picked this as a compromise." House shook his head.
"Why? What made you…?" Lydia shrugged.
"For the same reason I picked up the massage oil; I know the case is giving you a rough time and I though a little TLC and a little gift might make you feel better." Lydia sat down on the bed; House joined her and as he did, she held out a glass to him. "I overheard part of your conversation with James and I thought you might need this." House took the glass from her, realizing it contained some of the whiskey that the bottle on his bookshelf held. He took a sip and turned his head away from Lydia. He wasn't used to this sort of thoughtfulness and kindness; when offered to him, he usually pushed the person away for fear of getting close. Not this time…
"Thanks. I may need the rest of the bottle, too." House fidgeted with the glass in his hand nervously. "You don't have to buy me anything to make me feel better," House said quietly. "I've got what I need." He looked into her eyes and couldn't help but smile. House reached for the Dead T-shirt and placed it in his lap.
"Vintage stuff is usually pricey; it's modern day entrepreneurial America disguising itself in the robes of rebellion from the past. How much?" he asked as he held up the shirt.
"It's not polite to ask how much a gift costs," Lydia said disapprovingly.
"Politeness has no place between two people who sleep together." House tossed the shirt onto his shoulder, found a place for the glass on his nightstand and moved to take Lydia into his arms. "Unless it's to say 'Please… please don't stop!'" Lydia looked down.
"At least I said 'please'" she replied as she looked up at him from under her lashes. House chuckled.
"Yes, you did." Lydia leaned over and gave House a lingering kiss.
"I've…I've got to look over the files," House said apologetically. "We're running out of time."
"I know," Lydia answered giving him a peck on the cheek. "You're free to use your brain on the files; all I need is your leg." She stood up and headed toward the bathroom. "I'll be back in a minute." House looked at the t-shirt and decided to wear it tonight with a pair of boxers; he needed to be covered up so he could get some work done and Lydia would be pleased to see him wearing the shirt. House quickly took off the clothes he had been wearing and changed into the t-shirt and boxers. He looked down at the shirt.
"Cool," he said aloud.
"It looks good on you," Lydia said as she walked back into the bedroom. "Now all you need is a guitar."
"I've got one in the living room, but it's probably barricaded in by a few dozen or so boxes."
"Sorry, I told the movers to put them where I thought they would be the least bother." House shook his head.
"Don't worry about it; I've got too much to look at and I'm too tired to rock out right now. How many boxes are there?"
"Fifteen. Two of the boxes are Annie's. She didn't have any furniture since I sold it all when she went to Mayfield and I closed up her apartment." House gave her a look.
"Wouldn't that be a big 'OOOPS' if she woke up the day after you sold her stuff?" Lydia laughed.
"Yes, yes it would have; but Annie couldn't stay alone right after getting out. It was best that she had company and companionship after leaving Mayfield."
"Yeah, I stayed with Wilson after I left The Dungeon," House said. "That's how I knew he had the extra bedroom. So what did you hold on to that takes up two boxes?"
"Some of her clothing, so she'd have something available to wear right away when she woke up, her music and cello, of course; some jewelry, books and any family items like pictures or things I knew she inherited. Other than that, there wasn't much point in keeping anything. Annie's made a few purchases since leaving Mayfield, but not too much." Lydia had begun getting into pajamas as she talked. She had a camisole top and pj shorts in a turquoise color that just looked beautiful with her coloring. Of course, House didn't pay attention to the color of the item she was wearing or even what the item was; he was too busy enjoying the view of Lydia in various stages of nakedness as she changed. He sat on the bed with his elbow on his knee, his chin cupped in his hand and a wicked smile on his face. Lydia turned to say something to him and she caught sight of the look on his face.
"Gregory…whatever your middle name is…House! Have you even been listening to me?"
"Yeah, you have boxes and they're in my living room. And I don't have a middle name." Lydia looked surprised.
"From what you've mentioned of your parents, I would think that they'd be traditional and give you a middle name."
"I never said my parents didn't give me a middle name; I just said I don't have one. My birth certificate says Gregory John House. I had it legally changed to Gregory House over twenty years ago." Lydia was momentarily stunned.
"John was your father's name, wasn't it?" she asked quietly as she sat down on the bed near House. He nodded his head and interrupted her as he saw her open her mouth again to speak.
"If you want to think I'm terrible or a jerk or disrespectful be my guest," House said abruptly. "I did what I needed to do." Lydia nodded and leaned over to hug him. He returned the gesture, grateful for her not admonishing him for cutting a link to his father. He would never change his name entirely; that would hurt his mother too much. But that small step, it was small at least to House, made all the difference in the world to him. Plus his mother had no idea he did it. Lydia pulled away from him and smiled.
"OK," she said. "Time for R and R." House gave her a quizzical look. "Reading," Lydia said pointing to House's backpack, "And Rubbing." With that she picked up the bottle of massage oil and started to undo the cap. House smiled as he leaned over to get the files out of his pack. He took out the first file and began to look at it.
"Is my leg in a good position?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the first page of information about Tyler Hunter.
"Fine. I'll tell you to move if I need to." House was trying to focus on the report, then realized he wasn't wearing his reading glasses.
"I need my leg for a second," he said and leaned over to fiddle with the pack again until he found his glasses. As he sat up straight, Lydia did a double take.
"I'm learning all sorts of things tonight," she said as she rubbed the oil between her hands. "I didn't know you wore glasses. I never saw you with them at Mayfield."
"That's because I never had to read anything at Mayfield," he replied as he turned the pages he held so as to read a printout from a test. "Large amplitude in the prefrontal leads."
"Greg, this may feel a bit warm when I put it on your leg," Lydia warned.
"OK," House said absentmindedly. A few seconds later he jumped at the warmth of the oil, but he never took his eyes off the report. "'Paroxysms of laughter have no relation to the EEG.' OK, so that rules out the laughter as a gelastic phenomenon."
"Laughter as the symptom of a disease?" Lydia asked. "I think I missed something."
" Yeah, you did. Filling in the blanks: We all agree on the CP, we think there's some form of autism, but there are conflicting reports; if it is autism, we have to nail down which type in the autism spectrum disorders. Tests showed that the kid had traces of Gabapentin in his system, unbeknownst to the mother or his medical records. It was prescribed by the docs over at St. James Hospital."
"Epilepsy?" House nodded. "That's not uncommon in children with autism, correct?" House smiled any time he heard Lydia dive in with evidence of her medical studies.
"Correct, Dr. Strohman. We had to hold off on doing the EEG since the kid was already having a human earthquake; somewhere along the line, he stopped receiving his medicine. We had to dose him up and watch as he came off it. Thirteen stayed in the room with the mother tonight in case anything went FUBAR." Lydia nodded her head. House picked his head up from the report and looked at her over the rim of his glasses.
"You know what FUBAR means?"
"F'd Up Beyond All Recognition," she said blithely. Lydia shot him a look. "Give me credit for some life experience." House grinned. They were both quiet for a few minutes as House flipped back and forth between the pages in the report he held.
"What exactly leads you to believe it may not be autism?" Lydia finally asked.
"Clinical observations. He makes more eye contact than would normally be expected, he tries to bear hug everyone but his father; he head butts him in the groin." Lydia bent over House's leg, trying hard to suppress her laughter so House could keep on talking, but it was no use. Even House started chuckling at the memory of seeing Hunter react in pain.
"I'm sorry," Lydia said. "I can just imagine what that looked like. No wonder you relate to the boy so much." House looked at her quizzically.
"What makes you say I relate to the kid? I don't go running around flapping my arms while letting out peals of psychotic laughter."
"You seem to care about the boy and the way his father acts toward him as much as you do about the case. I know when we've talked about past cases you've had, you always said you didn't care about the patient's story unless it related to the case; the case was all that mattered. Things appear to be different this time." House took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
"I was thinking about this earlier today. There are a lot of similarities between my father and Malcolm Hunter, too many to go into right now," he said as he fingered the edge of the report. "Whatever references I can draw between the two have to stay out the diagnosis; hopefully Wilson and my team will make sure I don't let my mind wander."
"And me," Lydia said in a small voice. House shook his head as he looked over a printout of another part of the EEG.
"Your sympathy toward the kid is very apparent, probably because you have a kid his age. But if I get really out of line, you can help give me a beat down." Lydia took a deep breath.
"I would never do that." House smirked.
"Everyone needs to let out some steam once in a while. It's one of the reasons I like boxing." Lydia had poured more of the massage oil into her hands.
"My ex was into boxing," she said as she leaned over and began to work on House's upper thigh. House raised his eyebrows.
"The first redeeming quality I've heard about the shmuck. I take it you're not a fan."
"It's fine as long the hitting stays in the ring."
"Damn it!" House exclaimed as he pounded his left fist into the mattress. "I thought I had something, but the test result doesn't support it. Unless…" He rolled to his right and reached down into his back pack rummaging for one of the additional reports. He realized that Lydia had stopped rubbing his leg.
"You can go back to working your magic in a minute; by the way," House said a little more gently than his tone had been a minute earlier. "The local gypsies that sold you that stuff were right; my leg is feeling better. Of course, most of the healing power lies in your beautiful ha…" House stopped what he was saying as he turned his head to look at Lydia; she was sitting with her hands clasped together, her arms drawn in with her elbows at her side. Lydia had pulled her knees up and her feet were resting on the edge of the bed frame. She was staring off, an empty expression on her face, but a very obvious look in her eyes: fear. House was unsure how to react; he quickly tried to recall the past few minutes of conversation. They talked about his father and how he and Hunter were alike, how House didn't want to use clouded judgment with the case, but that his team would help with that; House mentioned that he liked boxing, Lydia said her ex did too. He noticed that she didn't seem to be a fan of the sport and she said it was fine as long…
A wave of dawning recognition flooded over House along with a sickening feeling.
"Lydia, look at me." She didn't move. It was almost like she was in an upright fetal position. "Lydia," he said gently as he reached up and barely touched her cheek; he put just enough pressure on it to turn her head to him. She still wouldn't look at him, but House went ahead and asked what he needed to know.
"Did your ex ever hit you? You or your kids?"
House saw her lips were moving, but no words or sounds were coming out.
"Did he hit you?"
"No," she said in a whisper. "Almost. I was afraid…"
"Almost only counts in horseshoes, hand grenades and nuclear weapons," House said. Lydia hesitated, but she finally picked her head up and looked at House.
ouse
"He would throw things at me and kick a chair I was sitting in so hard that he almost knocked it over." She brushed away tears with her hand. "I'd be sitting at the table and we'd be eating or I was reading the newspaper and something would just….set him off and he'd start pounding the table right next to me, screaming that he hated me." House had pulled out several tissues and handed them to Lydia. "The final straw happened out in Phoenix; he pushed me up against a wall as I was holding Elise and he punched the wall inches away from me, put a hole in it and said 'Next time that will be your head'. Annie rushed at him to get him away from me." House saw that Lydia's hands started shaking. "He backhanded her on the side of her face where her jaw had been broken and she just dropped to the ground. My son rushed over and started pulling at his father's pants leg and yelling 'Daddy, please don't hurt us.' My ex was about to take a swing at Ben, but Annie had gotten on her feet and she grabbed her brother's arm. Neither one of them said anything; he just pulled his arm back and walked away." Lydia started coughing and House handed her the water bottle he had carried in for her earlier. "Thank you," she said after taking a few sips.
"So that's when you decided to leave and come back here?" House asked. Lydia nodded.
"I handed Elise to Annie, made sure little Ben was OK and told him to stay near his sister. I went into the spare bedroom where Annie was staying, I got my husband's suitcase out of the closet, walked into our bedroom where he was standing, handed it to him and said 'Get out now. I'm seeing my lawyer in the morning'." Lydia shook her head. "He just very calmly took the suitcase from me, packed his clothes and other things he needed and left without a word." House wanted to ask so many things, but he knew he had to take things slowly.
"Come on; move up here next to me so we both can be more comfortable." House slid himself back to the head of the bed and moved the report he had been looking at and his reading glasses.
"Greg, you have to read those things over, you can't waste your time."
"I am not wasting my time," said House letting out a tired sigh. "And if you think I can concentrate right now, you're crazy. I'll do much better in the thinking department with you next to me." Lydia reluctantly moved next to him, but stayed curled up in a tight ball as she sat next to House. He moved closer to her and very slowly brought his arm around her. She didn't flinch or move away, but she didn't lean into him as she usually did.
"Hey," House said. Lydia reluctantly made eye contact with him. "Why didn't you tell me what was going on? When we were talking yesterday, you said that the two of you sat down and had a calm conversation about ending things. Even when I was at Mayfield, you never gave a hint that this was going on." House looked away from Lydia; he felt insecurity building inside of him. "I guess even a nut job in a psych ward looked better than what you had." Lydia was shocked.
"Are you saying you doubt that I love you?"
"Oh, right, you bought me this nifty little t-shirt; what better proof do I need?" House said sarcastically and took his arm out from around her. "I guess you figured you were safe with me…how much of a punch can a gimp throw?"
"Stop it! If you want to fight, fight fair. Don't throw out nasty comments to try and push me away. If you're upset or mad at me, fine; tell me that." House leaned over and picked up the whiskey from his nightstand and took a drink. He held up the glass and slowly swirled the contents around.
"Damn, you are feisty," he finally said.
"Yes, I am," Lydia replied, taking the glass from his hand and taking a drink.
"I thought you wanted to keep your head clear for tomorrow." Lydia handed him back the glass.
"I'll be fine," she said firmly. House looked at her.
"How come you can be this feisty with me, but you couldn't leave your ex any sooner?"
"When it comes to emotions, sometimes smarts flies right out the window."
"So you did love him?" House asked quietly.
"No, it wasn't love; it was desperation, a need to know that someone out there understands the way you feel. I thought he did; it was his sister, after all. But, I ignored all the things that Annie told me in the past and like a fool I tried to find solace with him."
"He had always been a jerk, then." House took a drink of the whiskey and offered it to Lydia.
"No, thank you," she said holding her hand up. Reaching to her forehead, she brushed away some hair before beginning to speak. "Annie had told me that the family was estranged from Ben, that he had left home at seventeen. She said he had a very bad temper and while he had never hit anyone, there were slammed doors, things thrown, yelling, cursing, all it seemed for no reason. They wanted him to go see a doctor about his anger, but her refused saying it was all of them who had a problem not him."
"Does Annie have any other siblings?"
"No. Annie had an aunt who had never married who lived with them and an uncle who was widowed at a relatively young age with no children. Ben was mad at all of them. He did maintain some sort of contact with the uncle as they had been close when he was younger. Ben showed up at the funerals when his parents and the aunt and uncle passed away. That's when I first met him was at one of the wakes. He was nothing like what Annie had described to me; he was charming, talkative, intelligent, thoughtful and kind even. And he was that way to everyone, not just me. When I questioned Annie about it, she said 'You don't know him like we do.'"
"He's a sociopath, a sociopath with a temper," commented House.
"That's what I have come to realize. He was still very pleasant when he first started to come to Mayfield to visit Annie and things just developed and he was company and while it completely lacked any passion, it felt good. So I said yes when he asked me to marry him, but then after about a year, things started to change." Lydia took a drink of water, emptying the bottle. "We had been drifting apart a bit and I thought that was because he was gone with work more and more. Then he stopped coming to see Annie and I was feeling very alone again. That's when I had my son and although things got worse after little Ben was born, I didn't want him to be an only child. But after Elise, I went on birth control pills and just…I know this sounds terrible, but things got to the point when my ex came near me, I told him to go to hell. It was never gentle, it always hurt and I couldn't take it anymore." House reached over and wrapped Lydia up in his arms in a tight hug. He felt her shaking and pulled back to see tears streaming down her face.
"No wonder you squealed so much last night," he said with a smile.
"I was just so delighted to find out there was more than one way to approach things," she said, a smile mixing with her tears. House kissed her, then handed her a tissue. As she wiped her face, House had to ask another question.
"Are your kids with him now?"
"No. Annie has a…third cousin once removed or something like that. Annie's great-grandmother and Nancy's great-grandmother were sisters. Annie and she are around the same age and grew up together. Nancy moved out to Arizona years ago, so at least she knew someone there we could seek some comfort with. She has three children around Ben's and Elise's ages. They're with her right now. I would never leave them with him." House looked at her curiously.
"So what's the arrangement going to be with custody? If you're afraid to leave them with him…" Lydia waved her hands dismissively.
"It is so messed up; my lawyer and I are trying to figure out the best way to handle things." Lydia started to cough and picked up the water bottle for a drink, not remembering that she had finished it before.
"I'm going to get some more water; do you want a refill?" she asked pointing to House's empty glass.
"I'll take a walk with you. I want to test out my leg." House stood and took a few steps.
"How does it feel?" He took a few more steps and turned to look at Lydia.
"Really good. There's hardly any pain. It wasn't hurting when I was lying down, but I assumed that gravity taking over was going to have a negative effect. Quite to the contrary."
"Good," Lydia said as she met him at the door.
"By the way, thank you." House said. "For the shirt, the massage and for taking it easy on me during our first fight. I gotta tell you, though; you are unbelievably sexy when you are feisty." He pulled Lydia into his arms and gave her a kiss.
"Hmm, you should see me when I'm actually mad," she said playfully and moved toward the living room. House watched Lydia as she walked away.
"I think that may be too much even for me," he said under his breath as he followed Lydia down the hall.
"Could you grab a bottle of water for me?" Lydia called to House as she stood by the pile of boxes. "I started to look through here earlier for some sheet music I want to take with me to the interview and I never did take it out."
"Sure," House said. "What are you planning on playing?"
"Well for an up tempo song, I was thinking of 'Jumpin' Jack Flash' and for a more mellow tune I was considering 'As Tears Go By'." House smiled.
"That's how to ace an interview, alright." He had gotten Lydia's water and was pouring himself another drink. He knew he should look at the files, but after what he found out about Lydia, he didn't even feel like dealing with the case. What he had looked at revealed nothing, just what they had already suspected. He could always read more in Wilson's car.
"Oh, this is going to be the first thing I watch with the kids when they get here," Lydia said. She turned and showed House a copy of the movie "Pinocchio". "I had put it in with my music since I knew I would have that out first for the interviews. This is their favorite movie."
"Even your son's?" asked House. "His mojo factor is going down with me if that's his favorite movie."
"He likes it because of the way Elise and I start dancing around with music. It cracks him up." Lydia held her arms straight out and started to wave them the way a marionette would; she had a smile on her face as she sang, "I've Got No Strings". "Oh, I think between the beers and the sip of whiskey and the fact that I'm tired, I've lost it," she said as she started giggling. House had been looking at medical books on his shelves in the hopes that something would jump out at him, but nothing did. His ear picked up on Lydia's giggling and he moved his head to look at her. She started laughing when she saw the look on House's face. But House wasn't smiling; he was absorbing what he saw happening in front of him.
"My patient is Pinocchio," he said after a few seconds. Lydia stopped dancing and laughing and looked at him incredulously.
"Your patient is a wooden marionette that wants to be a real boy? That…"
"No!" Interrupted House. "He's a happy puppet." Lydia shook her head, not understanding.
"He's a what?"
"He has Happy Puppet Syndrome," House said urgently. "In these days of political correctness, it's called Angelman's Syndrome after the guy who discovered it."
"And it's a form of autism?" Lydia asked. House nodded his head.
"Yep. And I've got the test results to prove it."
unter kept on his son.H