There Will Be No Divorce Chapter 14
"The reception's gotten fuzzy
The delicate balance has shifted
Put on your gloves and your black pumps
Let's pretend the fog has lifted."
"Dilaudid", The Mountain Goats
Taub was getting more and more frustrated at House's complete inattention. Three times he had tried to explain his theory about sarcoidosis and each time he'd been distracted by House pacing rapidly towards the conference room door, only to turn sharply and take a seat. Thirteen and Foreman rolled their eyes at House's customary ignorance, and Kutner settled for agreeing loudly with Taub's points in a vain bid to get attention focused back on the differential.
After listening just long enough to justify calling Taub an idiot, House succeeded in opening the door and stepping out into the hallway. He was aware that he must look a little strange to the assembled fellows, but freaking them out a little was a quick and easy way of keeping them in line. The fact that he was genuinely apprehensive about his little walk along the hall was none of their business; let them keep guessing.
He could feel their eyes on him as he walked the short distance to Wilson's office, making it almost a relief to knock on the door. The act of knocking made the whole visit slightly surreal, and was probably why Wilson said "Come in" so readily.
Wilson certainly didn't look happy to see House, his right hand fluttering automatically to the fading bruise on his jaw.
"I expect you think I'm here to apologize."
To his credit, Wilson snorted at the very idea.
"Well, it's possible that I overreacted. Pouring water over your head may have been slightly more appropriate. But anyway, it's not like I broke your jaw. Though that might have helped you shed those last few bereavement pounds you've been carrying."
House held his breath as he waited to see how that one would land.
There it was, the waving finger of mock annoyance. Wilson was going to forgive him any second…now.
"Bereavement weight? Nice. I thought you'd go with comfort eating over having lost you to Cuddy, but I understand you don't want to bring up your failed relationship. Oh, oops. Did I just…? How silly of me."
With a sigh of relief, House dropped gracelessly into the patient chair. Wilson closed the file he'd been working on and gave House his full attention.
"So, speaking of failed relationships, how is Cuddy? She's keeping everyone at arm's length since she came back last week."
House shrugged, his default response to anything encroaching on emotional ground. He picked at an imaginary piece on lint on his pants and avoided Wilson's too-intense stare. a
"She's Cuddy, made of steel. Probably crying into her pillow every night, but you won't know it while she's here."
It was uncomfortable to talk about her, every word a reminder of how she'd rejected him again.
"And you two are definitely over? No way you can work things out?"
He leaned back in the chair, as though a few inches would make Wilson's question any less painful.
"Yup, done and dusted. It wasn't bad while it lasted. No biggie."
With some struggle, House met Wilson's inquisitive eyes with his best fake nonchalance. Wilson smiled broadly, a little too broadly for House's liking. Sensing trouble, he shifted uneasily in the ugly plastic chair.
"Well, sorry it didn't work out. You won't mind if I ask her out after all? I mean, I'd wait for a decent interval, give her time to…"
"Sure. Fine. Whatever."
Snapping out a response wasn't really the best way of making it sound convincing.
"Great. I'll give it a couple of weeks and try then. Or maybe I should lay the groundwork now, while she's all needy and vulnerable."
House kept his cool, just barely, his grip on the handle of his cane approaching Hulk-like intensity.
"Whatever you think is best. Go for it."
The words were as hollow as the space where his thigh muscle used to be.
"Great. In fact, I might give Stacy a call too. Think she'd be up for a threesome?"
The swish and crack of cane meeting desk made Wilson jump.
"You think you're funny?"
Wilson pondered the question while secretly flexing his calf muscles, ready to jump backwards at the first sign of attack.
"Kind of, yeah. I mean, you're sitting there trying to pretend not to give a shit while almost having a coronary over the idea of me even talking to Cuddy, never mind bedding her."
Opening his mouth to protest, House found himself embarrassingly short of counter-arguments.
"Fine. So I don't want you hitting a home run in the same park. Hardly unreasonable."
Wilson winced slightly at the less than romantic allusion.
"Why are you so afraid to be happy? You waged war over a carpet, broke into a therapist's office to spy on Stacy. You don't just give up and accept a crappy decision. That's not your MO."
House sneered at the reminder of his past exploits. Did Wilson really need to have such crystal clear memories of every little thing he'd done?
"You're saying I should annoy her into taking me back?"
Wilson nodded enthusiastically.
"Why change the habit of a lifetime and start being reasonable now? It may be incredibly screwed up, but being with Cuddy has been good for you. It's totally unfair what happened to you two, but that doesn't mean you should let everything fall apart.
"And don't say you have no choice. You've convinced Cuddy to let you perform autopsies on living children, for God's sake. This should be easy in comparison. You have to give her time to heal, but don't give up on her. What I'm saying is, for once in your miserable life, use your stubbornness for good instead of evil."
Defeated and deflated. House closed his eyes for a moment and considered Wilson's points. Maybe the smug bastard was right after all.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
A month in hospital time was practically an Ice Age; House and Cuddy had quickly become old news. The latest buzz was about an apparent breakup between Drs. Cameron and Chase, speculation running rampant along hallways and in hushed stairwell conversations.
House had been very careful to bide his time. For Cuddy's first few days back, he had shown up to about half of his clinic duty and managed not to directly compromise a patient's life for the sake of a cool diagnosis. It was impossible to maintain though; countless years of misbehavior left meant he gradually resumed his old ways sooner rather than later.
She seemed surprisingly okay with that, as though the normalcy was helping. He hadn't stumbled across her crying in clinic rooms or caught her staring wistfully at babies in the NICU. Though he mocked her wardrobe and unfortunate habit of letting him run amok at times, she really was a consummate professional most of the time.
He checked one last time that she was still in her office, her outline visible in the early evening shadows as he gazed across the clinic. With more urgency that he was usually capable of, he headed to the parking lot and his waiting motorcycle.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
It had been a particularly successful afternoon for Lisa Cuddy, and when she gathered her belongings to leave, she did so with a lightness in her heart that had been missing for the past six weeks or so.
Funding was all but secured for a new psychiatric ward, with positive press releases printed and waiting to be issued. Even the budget had been more manageable than usual, prudence finally spreading throughout the hospital's spending habits.
It was warm for spring, the weak evening light still enough to cheer her slightly as she strode out towards the exit. As she approached the nurses' station she caught Wilson's eye across the lobby. He slowed down and waited for her to catch up with him, walking her out into the parking lot as he so often did.
"Anything planned for this evening?"
His sudden keen interest was a little unsettling, but Cuddy shrugged it off with a weak line about the Cabernet awaiting her at home.
"Well, you have fun. Oh, I heard about Cameron by the way, good call."
Cuddy smiled warmly at the recognition. Earlier that morning she had formally offered Cameron the position of Deputy Administrator, subject to board approval. Dr. Adler was content to get lost in the university's halls once more, stepping aside with no fuss at all.
"It was time I got someone a little more engaged to fill in for me. I'm mostly sure I can trust Cameron not to stage a coup."
He returned her smile at that, and not for the first time Cuddy found herself wondering if Wilson might just have a soft spot for the head of the ER.
"I should really get going. That wine isn't going to drink itself."
Wilson placed a gentle hand on her forearm, the unexpected contact causing her to gasp slightly.
"It's so nice to see you smile again Lisa. It would be even better to see you truly happy. Goodnight."
The sudden sweetness from Wilson took her by surprise, but she shrugged it off and drove home without giving it any further attention.
When she saw House sprawled out on her porch, everything suddenly made sense.
Not that she acknowledged his presence, taking her time to put the car in the garage and collect her things from the trunk. Bringing work home with her was nothing new, and she wasn't going to let an uninvited guest deter her.
It seemed to annoy him when she stepped over his outstretched legs and marched into the house without saying a word. True to form, he followed through the front door a few moments later. He caught up with her in the kitchen, and the determined expression on his face made her heart sink just a fraction.
"Let me guess, you've found an even more dangerous way of testing your patient's brain? Maybe pouring sambuca on it and setting it on fire just to test the response?"
He ran his fingers through the thinning hair on his head and offered her one of his more cheeky grins.
"My patient is being successfully treated for neurosyphillis, but thanks for the tip. I'll be able to tell my next attorney that I was acting on your instructions."
Cuddy sighed heavily and reached for a wineglass. House's pronounced tut of dissatisfaction prompted her to retrieve a second one before pouring generous quantities of glossy red wine.
"Why are you here, House?"
She made no attempt to hide her weariness, but didn't dare meet his eye.
"I brought you a present."
"If it's a subpoena, I'm not…"
He interrupted her complaint by throwing a crumpled paper bag at her. Curiosity piqued, she reached carefully inside and recovered something soft. Pulling it out, she was confused to see a faded black t-shirt.
Unfolding it, she saw the familiar red tongue logo.
"A Rolling Stones shirt? One that smells of beer and sweat?"
Her face crumpled in mild disgust as she made the last observation.
"Not just any shirt. The original '78 tour shirt."
Her first instinct had been to shove the offending item back in the bag and throw it at his head, but the explanation gave her pause, rubbing the thin cotton between her fingers.
"The same t-shirt that you said you'd kill me if I ever touched it?'
House's nod was slow, measured.
"And now you want me to, what, do your laundry?"
"It's a gesture."
"Of insanity?"
"Of commitment. I'm saying I want what we had back. It was…surprisingly tolerable, when you stopped whining all the time anyway. "
Cuddy stepped back, uncomfortable with their proximity.
"Don't you remember us talking about this? It wouldn't work, we've caused each other enough pain."
"We cause each other pain regardless. At least this way we were getting the upside too."
Damn, but he was hard to argue with when he was so logical. Taking a hearty swig of wine, Cuddy placed the glass carefully on the kitchen counter, freeing her left hand to push her hair back off her face.
"I'm no good at apologies, but I want you to know I didn't mean to hurt you with some of that stuff I said. And I want us to get back to ripping each other's clothes off on a daily basis."
"Including this shirt?"
Cuddy dangled the t-shirt from her index finger, causing House to gulp nervously.
"I told you, I'm giving it to you. Wash it, burn it, turn it into a nightshirt, it's entirely up to you. Just say that you'll give in to your continuing desire to jump me."
House moved closer, making her huge kitchen seem suddenly claustrophobic. Truthfully, she was overwhelmed. Seeing him like this in her home after so long, his strange gift, Wilson's bizarre encouragement, the fresh memories of loss and suffering were all conspiring to make her light-headed.
Forcing herself to concentrate, she raised a hand of warning to stop House coming any closer.
Her mind was made up.