Chapter Three

Time of Death

Thanks to PaulaAbdulChica2007, Kris the fanficaholic, DrusillaBraun, HouseholicMD, nurit, addicted2coffee, RHSecretLove, Boys Don't Cry, mjo621, girlwithwingsoffire, and BlkDiamond for their reviews. Thanks so much. This is what keeps me going!

Sergeant, if House kills Tritter even by accident, that's manslaughter and he could serve jail time. And we don't want him in jail.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything in House.

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Cuddy felt chills tremble down her spine and it was all she could do to keep herself from losing her always present professionalism right then and there. Her body felt cold as if she were disconnected from it, but her voice was controlled and calm when she immediately began to order her ER assistants around, making sure everything was prepared for what she already knew to be a drug overdose.

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Wilson barged in with House, yelling that he was a doctor and that he could help. In his state, however, the ER nurses highly doubted it and it was highly against procedure.

"Sir, I'm sorry, but you are going to have to leave." The nurse said, pulling on Wilson's arm as the paramedics rolled House into the ER.

He shoved past her and into the ER. He froze when the doctor turned toward them. Her gaze caught his and held. He stared back into the deep soulful eyes of Lisa Cuddy. The moment lasted for barely a second before the nurse got hold of his arm again. He wrenched his arm away from her.

"Wilson!" Cuddy said, her voice rose only slightly.

Like so many times before, she immediately his full unchanging attention.

"It's okay. I've got him taken care of. As soon as there's a change, good or bad, you'll know. I promise." She said her voice soothing.

His shoulders dropped as he followed the nurse out, only pausing to look at her one more time. He was no longer in her orbit of important things, however. Already she was bent over House, tending to him with gentle hands that would save him, again.

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Cuddy gently slipped a stomach tube into House's mouth and allowed it to extend all the way down his trachea through his esophagus and into his stomach.

"Start it." She said, as the machine began to pump what she already knew to be Vicadin out of his system.

The heart monitor began to beep furiously.

"BP dropping. He's seizing." she yelled, two fingers on his neck, feeling his pulse. Her body was now against his, holding him down as he thrashed, trying desperately to keep him from hurting himself or anyone else.

The monitor beeped louder as his movements became weaker.

"Crash cart now!"

The intern that was helping hesitated. He was watching the vomit that was covering House's shirt and the smell was making him sick. He stumbled back at step. Wrong move.

Cuddy lost her temper. "GET THE DAMN CRASH CART OR ELSE THIS IS YOUR LAST NIGHT HERE!" She roared.

He immediately snapped back to his senses. The paddles were in her hands by the time he registered what he had done.

"Clear." She said, shocking him.

Nothing.

She tried it again. Nothing. And then a third and fourth time. Silence in the room except for the beeping of the machines. Tears formed in her eyes. She would not allow it to happen.

"Time of death." Said a voice from the doorway. The usual ER doctor, finally finished with the gunshot wounds.

"No." She said, trying again. She changed from the paddles to just simple CPR, pushing on his chest, pleading him to wake up.

The doctor put a hand on her shoulder. "Cuddy, time of death." He said again.

She shook her head and tried again. This time her persistence paid off. The monitor came to life and so did House.

The doctor was amazed as he said, "BP rising."

Cuddy felt the tears begin to fall as relief flooded her body. However, her habit of iron control over her emotions once again returned once her fear faded.

"Finish the gastric lavage." She said, almost wearily. "And give him the reversal drug for Vicadin. He should be fine."

No one could tell how relieved she was to say those words. Nor did they notice how her hand lingered on his as she walked away or that she stopped at the doorway to gaze at him one more time, a single tear trickling down her cheek. The only thought on their minds was, 'how did she know he took Vicadin?'

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Wilson was on his feet the moment Cuddy stepped out of the ER.

"How is he?" he asked, concerned in spite of himself.

"He'll live." She said. "He crashed though. Took us multiple attempts to bring him back."

She never mentioned that it was only her that tried so hard to save him. She didn't want to admit that she was so emotionally attached to the limping bastard and if she admitted that she cared enough to try so hard, she knew she would admit the depths of her feelings for him.

"I didn't know what happened. I left him alone for a minute." He said.

"A minute was all he needed." She replied gently. "But you couldn't have known he would make the same mistake again."

"I should have. This is the third time. I think he's trying to kill himself." Wilson said, rubbing his forehead, the strain of the past days etched firmly into the creases around his eyes.

"Well in this case, the third time is not the charm and I'll do my best to keep him on his feet." She said softly. "That I promise."

Wilson leaned in close to her, so close their lips could almost touch. She grew uncomfortable as she moved away, surprise on her face.

"Sorry, it's just…I missed you." He said softly.

She was speechless, but swallowed the lump in her throat. "I missed you too." She said, then added, "But as a friend."

The ER doctor had finished pumping House's stomach and miraculously, he was awake and demanding.

"The patient wants you Dr. Cuddy. He was very firm about that."

"Thank you Dr. Rogers, I'll be right in." Cuddy said. Then turned to Wilson. "We'll work this out later okay?"

She didn't give him a chance to say anything as she more quickly than was necessary ducked into House's room. He was left without words and more hurt than was shown on his face.

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He felt the pain sear through his body from the first shock, but then the rest were merely a prick on his skin. He was watching a figure bent over him, trying desperately to keep him in the body that had caused him so much pain, the mind that never ceased to think, brood, and then tear itself apart at all the bitterness in it. He was unable to see her face, but for a moment, he hated her. She was pulling him back and he didn't want to return to that physical prison.

He fought her, but she was determined. Together it became a battle of wills. He wanted to wrench her away from him from his position behind her, but found his hands passing through her. It made no difference. Then she turned to ditch the paddles and he saw her.

It was no doubt, Dr. Lisa Cuddy, the source of his pain and his happiness. How ironic it was for the woman that could undo him completely was also the same one that could piece him back together. Her hands were then on his chest, pushing on his heart and he saw the tears form. She pushed again and that was all the incentive he needed. He granted her plea and allowed himself to be pulled back into that physical barrier. The first thing he felt was the warmness in her touch.

He had always wanted to see her once again. Wanted, but not hoped. Hope was for fools in his mind and that nothing would be brought by it. He hadn't expected to see her again under such circumstances, however. He did not want to see the disappointment in her eyes when she knew how he had tried to take the coward's way out, or the anger that he knew would be etched in every line of her face when she raged at him for being so reckless. Still he wanted to see her. He wanted it more than any drug he had ever tasted or felt. She was the one addiction that he could never get over.

Now he was awake and he knew she would come when he asked for her. She always did. She always saved him and he knew she was still his angel, still watching over him.

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"Hey" she said softly as she came to his side, mentally counting to ten. Now was not the time to lose her temper and to rage at him. The aftermath of such an outburst would do more damage than that had already been done.

He smiled weakly up at her, the expression taking years off his face. She was as he remembered her. Her dark curly hair fell past her shoulders and her deep blue eyes looked straight at him and then passed through him as if she could read every thought and comprehend every emotion. In them, he also saw tightly controlled rage. No disappointment, just rage.

He, however, looked very different to her. His face was lined with creases that told her he had more stress than was good for him. Additional evidence to that was the grayness that now peppered his dark hair. Dark circles hung beneath his eyes telling her that he hadn't slept in ages. He was more scruffy than usual and she could tell he had let himself slip past that barrier that always kept him from crossing the line. Guilt told her that that barrier had been her.

"You look good." He said. "Nice to see that you still dress like a woman. Blouse is still screaming it."

She smirked. This was the House she knew. Never tossed a chance to tease her away.

"Well in case you haven't noticed, I am a woman."

"Believe me I've noticed." He said softly.

Silence followed as he realized how close he had come to spilling his wailing guts out to her. He pulled himself back.

She wanted answers. "How is it back in New Jersey?" she asked.

"Less flashy without you." He said with a soft chuckle.

She rolled her eyes. He was never going to give her a straight answer. He knew she wanted to know how the new Dean was treating the hospital, why House overdosed so many times, how the patients were, and a bunch of other things about her former place of residence.

She must have given him that look because suddenly he was ranting in an more indirect manner about how things really were.

"The new Dean's worse than you. She's a highstrung lap dog. Sorta like me, only bossier. The ducklings have only killed, hmm…let's round it down; make them feel better. Maybe ten or eleven patients without me. Wilson's slept with every nurse in the building and will probably sleep with anything that has a pulse. And I have been paying hookers every night cause I don't get the satisfaction from watching your funbags anymore at work." He said.

She almost laughed, but bit her tongue. He would be pleased with himself, with or without her encouragement. Her pager beeped and she moved onto her feet. There were questions that were left unasked and unanswered, but she didn't need to ask him to know that he had thought he had hit rock bottom and then only recently found out that there was still a long way to go.

She would bring up the why later. Not now, not while he was still so weak. He knew she would ask him and she knew that he knew. They were starting that back and forth dance again.

"I have to get back to work. I'm just a call away if you ever need me." She said.

She started for the door, but felt a hand on her wrist. She turned back to see House staring at her. The look in his eyes frightened her as well as warmed her. Her anger left her. She knew it was return later once she got the lab results of his blood, but for the moment all was forgotten except the feel of his skin on hers. They stayed like that for a moment, communicating, but not saying a word. Finally he let her go. She smiled at him.

"I'll be back." She promised. And he knew she would keep her word.

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"We need help." Cameron stated as she blew her bangs out of her face. "We need House."

"Great, let's just call him up and wait for him to stop throwing up long enough for us to tell him the symptoms." Foreman retorted sarcastically.

"Foreman's right, we can cry to Daddy every time we hit a wall." Chase commented as he flipped through a heavy medicine resource book, hoping for some brilliant breakthrough triggered by the fine print on the page.

"Okay, tell me what the hell describes a sickness where one side of the body is larger than the other and the patient has blue eyes, and not by the pretty blues that are normal. I mean the whole damn eyeball." Cameron exclaimed.

"Maybe it's genetic." Chase commented.

"Or maybe it's bacterial."

"Or maybe we have no idea." Cameron argued. "We need help. We can't just let this patient get worse while we're waiting to have a brilliant idea drop out of the sky."

"We can't reach him!" Foreman yelled.

"We could try!" Cameron shot back.

"Guys!" Chase yelled. "Let's list the symptoms and do tests on everything that it could be, before we go barge in on House puking out his intestines." He added more calmly.

The other two resolved to mutter darkly under their breaths. Chase caught the words dependent puppy and cocky idiot as they moved to sit down at the table. Chase pulled out the marker.

Uneven physical proportions

Blue eye membrane

Bent fingers

Coffee color patches on skin

They stared at the list. It was barely a help, though now they could see that their case was extremely strange. Whatever it was, it was nothing under the category common illnesses that you see everyday. Chase chewed on the back of his pen. He wished this whole thing was over. He wanted House back and to stay back. That meant Cuddy had to come back as well. He put his face into his hands.

Cameron was shaking her head, making her brown curls flop in every direction. "We need House."

"We need tests and for you to grow up." Foreman retorted. "Let's get the tests and see if it brings up anymore symptoms."

"Great so you think a breakthrough will just fall out of the sky." Cameron stated.

"No." Chase answered, to her surprise instead of Foreman. "In the law of physics that's impossible."

She rolled her eyes as she followed them out, making a note to herself to pay a visit to House's apartment that very night.

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As she promised she was back by his side that very night. Only now she had a sleeping child in her arms. She had quickly run home after shift and relieved the nanny and brought her daughter here. She held the baby close as she listened to the soft breathing of both House and Jesse. She pulled up a chair and planned to stay the night and leave before House woke up.

She kissed Jesse on the forehead and then leaned back in the chair. Looking at House, she froze, then looked back at Jesse. The folder which held the donor number on it had not given a name to the donor. Now she knew who it was. The likeness between them was too similar to be ignored. Jesse had Cuddy's darker more curly hair, but the shape of her stubborn mouth and the almond shape of her eyes were exactly like his. She knew that her daughter was also his daughter. She was a bond, a living breathing bond that they would never be able to break.

Confusion had just add more itself into Cuddy's life as she debated whether or not telling him he had a daughter would be the best course of things. She would do a test to make sure the next day, but telling him. That would be difficult. Though the fear was not enough to move her from her position by his side.

Soon her worried mind was lulled into sleep by the comforting sound of House's even breath and the warmness of the child she loved so much clinging onto her shirt with a small yet tight grip.

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Author's Note:

How did you guys like that? There was a very fluffy Cuddy moment right there, though I tried to throw in some smart ass comments that House is so famous for in there. I don't think I did that well with that, it just seemed to end up as more of a sweet scene than a snarky scene. I hope that's still okay. Enjoy! This is so much fun, but I wished my schedule permitted me more time to spend on my fics.