Again guys, thank you so much for the reviews. I hope this satisfies you - I really wanted to do a good job of this chapter, and I was pretty pleased with it when I finished! Even if I do feel a bit cruel... But the only other thing I have to say on the matter is that 13 is my lucky number... x]
Also, as I've said, this is the last chapter I've written so I'm going to try and keep to the schedule of how often I update but it just might not be possible - I've got so much pressure on my work this term so I'll write and update as and when I can from now on!
I won't go on for no reason; I really hope I've done this chapter justice, please let me know what you think by leaving a review on your way out! :D xxx
XII
"It's not polycystic kidney disease – there's no high blood pressure, at all. If anything, it's a little bit low. But we thought you might like to know before you bribe some unsuspecting surgeon in to cutting her open for no reason."
House awoke with a start at the sound of Thirteen's voice and as he jumped up, his jacket fell on to the floor from over his face. It was pitch black in the room, but he could vaguely see the silhouettes of three people standing in front of him. As he pushed himself up from the soft couch he was lying on, he saw one of the outlines move, and then suddenly the room was flooded with light. He held his hands in front of his eyes and snapped them shut immediately. "For God's sake, turn the lights off." He wasn't sure who it was, but one of his fellows did as they were told and the room was suddenly plunged back in to darkness, enabling him to relax his eyes and open them again.
The shortest of the three stepped forward, seemingly because he thought that would make him more noticeable, therefore House was more likely to listen to him and answer his question. "What on earth are you doing sleeping in Wilson's office anyway? If you want to go to sleep, go home, but if you really want to sleep at work, which I assume is a ploy to annoy Cuddy, why not sleep in your own office?"
"For three reasons, my tiny little Taub. Firstly because actually, contrary to popular belief, do not want to annoy my boss. I actually want to keep as far away as possible from her, and since Wilson has gone home for the day, she's not likely to look in here. The second reason being, that I thought it would be less likely that you three would find me than if I slept in my own office. Clearly I underestimated you all, and you're more intelligent than I thought. But finally, if Wilson walked in in the morning and you lot had actually left me to sleep, and I was sleeping on his sofa, he would have had an absolute heart attack, and it would have been comedy gold. But you seemed to have foiled every one of these plans bar the first one, but by the sounds of it we're at least going to have to have another differential so I might have to go and see madam ice knickers after all." House then rubbed his temples firmly and systematically, breathing in and then out slowly before letting out a long sigh.
"Thirteen and I have discussed it and we are of the opinion that there is no need for another differential just yet. We only have one symptom – renal failure, and there are hundreds of different possible causes for that one symptom. Time will give us more answers – if this is some sort of life threatening rampant disease, it'll start hitting other organs or at least her kidneys will get significantly worse if we don't do anything, and also, we'll have more symptoms to work with. If it's not so dangerous, then at least we'll have more information which will narrow the field, even if it is only slightly." Foreman stood at the back of the group with his arms folded across his chest, and spoke as if he had some sort of authority or superiority over the others.
At that Taub raised his eyebrows and turned around to look at his colleague behind him. "Oh, really? And when did you have that discussion? Am I just so crap that I no longer warrant consultation in group decisions anymore?" He looked highly affronted and offended by the fact that he seemed to have been discounted, or worse, forgotten.
"Pipe down, you're not five years old. Besides, they're screwing each other, they're not likely to forget one another, are they?" House quickly brushed aside Taub's objection and pleas for attention, branding it as just another symptom of his particular strain of small person syndrome. He then turned to his other two fellows, who seemingly had had an in depth discussion and made a decision about what he was going to do without actually telling him. "Oh really? And what makes you think I'm going to pay the slightest bit of attention to what you think?" His voice was almost sickly sweet but with the intention of being sarcastic and ironic.
Foreman, as usual, let absolutely no expression ever flicker past his face as his boss spoke, and didn't even drop his defensive stance, if anything he made it bolder. "Because it means you can go home and just wait until something happens instead of actually doing your job – staying at work and treating the poor woman. And you might be stubborn, but you're not stubborn enough to pass up the opportunity of effectively a free day off work – as long as Dr. Cuddy doesn't find out." He was almost over confident and arrogant, which was an attitude that was very likely to cause House to prove him wrong.
However, luckily, House wasn't in a confrontational mood and, after everything over the last couple of days, quite fancied a day off for absolutely no reason other than to piss Cuddy off, so he nodded. "Alright then. It's a very effective use of my time, so just leave her on dialysis and do nothing else, and see what happens." But as all three of his fellows turned to leave, he opened his mouth again to stop them. "Ah, ah, ah, wait a second, Thirteen, you've been exceptionally quiet." And then he saw a golden opportunity to stir up trouble, which was something he most definitely couldn't surpass. "Don't you agree with your boyfriend's suggestion? I thought it came from both of you?"
Thirteen shuffled uncomfortably on the spot, staring at the same spot on the floor and only looked up after a couple of seconds of silence. But when she did, her expression was ticked off and even slightly callous. "Yes, I do agree with the suggestion." She could almost feel her boss' eyes boring in to her, as if willing her to disagree with Foreman, and the pressure from his glare finally made her snap. "Yes, I do actually agree with his suggestion, the only reason I'm keeping my mouth shut is because don't agree with the abysmal way you are treating this patient. You are regarding her with no respect, ignoring all of the ordeals in her life which she thinks have attributed to, or at least are connected to, her condition today. And one of the things we are taught as doctors, not that you'd know, is to listen to the patient's opinion, because even if they have absolutely no relevant medical knowledge, they know their own body better than anyone else. She's terrified, because she's battled through so much to get to the age of forty two, and if we don't find out what's wrong with her, this may well be one battle she doesn't not win. And you can't even give her the time of day. So yes, I agree with Dr. Foreman's suggestion and he did discuss it with me, so I knew he was going to suggest it to you. What I have a problem with is you. Not that that will make any difference what so ever to your actions though, because it never does, and I'm not naïve enough to think that I could be the one to change you if I just give one more heartfelt, emotional speech." She let out a long sigh when she finished talking but somehow felt empowered, and stood definitely in front of him, waiting for him to tear her to pieces.
But again, the ridicule never came, because frankly, House didn't even care enough. He just shrugged his shoulders and nodded, then gestured towards the door in his lazy impression of a dismissal. "Fine, whatever you say Dr. Hadley. We all know you see yourself in this woman in some crazy way - you always seem to be able to find some connection between yourself and our patients; usually the fact that you're dying as well as them. But I would prefer it if you practised your righteous lectures on your boyfriend rather than me, because I might get some on me. Go on, go home. All of you. That will annoy Cuddy even more than just me not being here. But whatever you do, don't turn your pagers off, we don't want this patient to die on our care. Because that would give the administrator an excuse to come and rant in my office and all of us for hours on end, and I have much more important and interesting things I could be doing. Go on, off you go!" He waved them towards the door impatient.
One by one, like naughty school children, they filed out of the office immediately without a word – only a look designed to kill from his female employee. Taub was the last out, and shut the door behind him, plunging House back in to complete and utter darkness again, rather than the grey, dull haze there had been before due to the lights from the corridors outside.
House really had intended to go home, but when he got on his motorbike, it seemingly subconsciously took him elsewhere. There was almost a war waging in his head; part of him really, really didn't want to see her, because every time he did, his stomach burned and twisted in knots with anger and jealousy. Another part of him, he assumed this was the part of him controlling the motorbike, wanted to have it out with her. Tell her exactly how much she'd hurt him, tell her exactly what she'd done to him, and make her feel as guilty as hell, and hurt as much as he was. Either that or win her over, before this nightmare got any worse and escalated any further. And a final part of him was feeling an emotion it wasn't very often he felt – he was scared. He hated admitting he was scared, but he was. He was scared that if he turned up, Lucas might be there with her, and that may well be the thing that would push him over the edge; he wasn't sure he was quite ready to see them together – playing happy families – just yet, because he hadn't come to terms with it. But he was also scared of her rejection. He was scared of no matter what he said or did, there is nothing that would make her change her mind. He'd always been so confident and cock sure of the fact that she wanted him – and he still was sure that she wanted him, he just wasn't sure that she'd listen to her heart over her head. Because last time they kissed, he reminded her what she was missing – what she could have – and she didn't fall straight in to his arms, instead she left his apartment in floods of tears, presumably back in to the arms of Lucas who made it all go away. He didn't have the confidence in himself to know that he could win anymore, and that thought, especially when it was distinctly possible he was about to put his whole heart on a plate and offer it to her, was one of the scariest of all.
In fact, what actually scared him the most was the fact that he didn't know why he was going to her house. He didn't know what he wanted, or what he intended to do. He didn't know if it was for the purpose of screaming and shouting and releasing all his anger and jealousy, or whether it was to try and make her his. Nothing was making sense in his head, and he was barely watching the roads as his single head light carved a path in the darkness before him. The roads were fairly quiet, but he was swinging and swerving around corners at dangerous speeds as if he didn't care for his own safety, or for anyone else's that was driving that night.
When he finally reached her street, he drove much slower down it because he didn't want her to hear the roar of the engine, until he cut it out completely outside her house. He sat for a moment, perched on his motorbike, and looked through the living room window – the blinds were open and the light was on so he could see exactly what was going on. He saw her, in what looked like a comfy pair of jeans she usually wore around the house, but they really accentuated her curves, and a large, woolly cream jumper that right up to her neck and covered most of her hands, presumably to keep her warm. Her hair was loose and falling elegantly down her back in its soft natural waves, and she kept shaking it absent-mindedly, and playing with it. She looked nothing like she did at work, but that wasn't to say she didn't look as good because in fact, she looked wonderful, and that only made it harder from where House was sitting. He could see she was wandering around the lounge, occasionally bending down to pick things up from the floor and walking in and out of the room – presumable she was tidying up after putting Rachel to bed.
He'd been in a position remarkably similar to this one once before, and it really hadn't turned out as planned. As vividly as if it were yesterday, he remembered standing outside her front door less than a year ago, last time he made the stupid decision of taking Wilson's advice, and contemplating confessing his feelings for her. At that moment, his courage failed him and his cynicism went into over drive, and he walked away without even knocking on the door. Who knows where they'd both be now if that night had gone differently – whichever way it had gone, he was sure he wouldn't be standing there at this moment. Cuddy may have never even ended up in a relationship with Lucas – in fact, it could be him she was happily in a relationship with right now…
Shuddering, he forced that thought out of his mind. It was torturous, and it did nothing to calm the fear writhing around in the pit of his stomach. Because regardless of how wounded and angry he was, there was still someone in the back of his mind, he presumed it was Wilson, reminding him that if he went ahead with this, it was quite possible that he would lose her forever. And that was not a possibility he could stand. He was all too aware of how easily he'd talked himself out of seeing her last time – and even though the situation, the consequences, and the stakes had been entirely different back, being a coward didn't exactly work out well for him in the first place. In a moment of reckless determination, he limped across the gravel of her driveway as fast as his leg and cane could manage and knocked rather aggressively on her front door.
Upon hearing a pronounced knock at the door, Cuddy glanced at her watch in surprise. It was roughly twenty to eleven – she could never tell exactly because her designer watch was far too expensive to have actual numbers on it. Either way, it was too late for cold callers trying to sell her something, and Lucas was working until past midnight so would go back to his own apartment when he was finished so as not to wake her or Rachel. During House's long train of thought, she'd left the living room and moved in to the kitchen, stacking dishes beside the sink to restore some sort of order and retrieving a wine glass from the cupboard. She slipped the bottle of wine she was about to pour herself a glass from back in to the door of the fridge, and approached the front door, just as there was another loud hollow whack on it, like wood on wood. Wincing and clicking her tongue angrily, she anxiously looked up the stairs and strained her ears for any sign of movement, hoping beyond hope that the noise hadn't woken Rachel. When she heard no indication that it had, she then turned herself to the door, unhooked it from the latch and opened it with a little more force than was particularly necessary. Upon surveying the figure on the other side her stomach immediately contorted into knots but she did everything in her power to make sure it didn't show. "I should have known it was you; Rachel's in bed you know, and if you've woken her she'll never get back to sleep. So what the hell do you want?"
The fact that she stood before him, bold as brass, as if she'd done nothing wrong whatsoever and there was absolutely nothing she was hiding from him, only irritated House more. But he knew he had to control that for at least a couple of minutes to ensure she actually let him in the house. "Come on, aren't you going to let the cripple come in? Standing outside in the cold is only going to make my leg worse, and I'll have to wait for it to play nice before I can manage to get home aga-"
"Alright, you don't have to play the pathetic cripple card, I'm too tired." She tutted, cutting his story short as she didn't have the patience to be lied to and manipulated tonight. Stepping back from the door she opened it further to allow him to limp inside, and then closed it behind him to keep the warmth in. However, she remained standing in front of the door and made no move to sit down or make herself comfortable in the living room, as she didn't want to give him any indication that he was staying for any length of time.
You could have cut the tension between them with a knife, despite how hard he'd tried to diffuse the situation and catch her off guard. It was clear that she was going to make no invitation for him to sit, so instead he took it upon himself to move into the lounge and sit on the nearest sofa. Ignoring her expression of extreme annoyance as she followed him, he began speaking before she launched into a predictable lecture about his lack of respect. "I am here, to ask you why you didn't tell me that you boyfriend was none other than Lucas Douglas, private investigator." His voice was only calm and expression impassive and simple due to the huge amount of self control he was exhibiting over himself and his emotions.
This was not a conversation she was ready to have right now – she'd known it was going to come but she hadn't prepared for the eventuality just yet. Denial had been an all too comfortable place for her to want to leave already. She could feel her heart rate quickening significantly in her chest, but she knew she had to keep a lid on her panic, as it would only make a bad situation worse. Every second she hesitated and deigned from replying, she could feel his eyes upon her, daring her to deny it, or to explain herself. Her brain was running in over drive, desperately trying to formulate some sort of sentence in response to his accusation that wouldn't provoke an argument. She knew she couldn't take his apparent nonchalance at face value – no amount of therapy or rehabilitation could have made him accept this situation without a fight. Upon beginning to speak, it took an incredible amount of effort to keep her voice steady and ensure it didn't shake. "I didn't tell you, because I didn't see how it was any of your business. Don't think you're special – I didn't tell anyone. My personal life is just that, personal, and I do not want or need anyone else's judgements or opinions on it."
"No-one would judge you, if there was nothing to judge you for Cuddy." It didn't require being as perceptive as he was to see that this was not a conversation she was comfortable with. This was a relief to him, because he knew he couldn't get angry first, or she'd have every right to blame this on him, but he didn't know how long he could pretend that this didn't bother him. So all he had to do was wait for her to lose her cool, and then he could let rip. But in that moment, he hated her. He hated that she could make him do something that no-one else could – for her, he was pretending. For her he was implementing the mental censor we all possess that tells us what it is appropriate to say, considering what you want out of a situation. And most of all, he hated himself. He hated himself for letting another woman have that power over him, when after Stacy he swore never again. Even worse, because this was different; with Stacy, he did it because he cared for her. With Cuddy, he did care for her, very much so, but he did it because he had to – because he wanted and needed her so much, he needed to not screw this up.
"Everyone would judge me, regardless if there was anything to judge me for, and you know it. I'm not ashamed of Lucas, if that's what you're implying. I'm happy with him, ok? Don't try and make this in to anything else." Every word she spoke was a calculated decision of risk, and she hated it. She hated the fact that their relationship had been reduced to this – he'd always been the one to tell her the cold, hard truth and he was always the one she didn't have to lie to. But everything had changed, and she'd known she was going to have to accept this when she embarked on the relationship with Lucas, it was just harder than ever when the evidence of what they'd lost was staring her in the face. Her eyes started to sting from salty tears threatening to build up and burst out, but she choked them back like a true professional – without showing any sign of their existence.
House knew he had to provoke her, because he knew it was the only way they'd ever be honest with each other. His rationalization for that decision was Wilson, inside his head, telling him "You have to make her angry.". Maybe it wasn't for the same reasons as last time, but it seemed like a good excuse to him. But he still knew he had to do it in a way that she couldn't blame him for. He chose his next words carefully. "I never asked you to justify your relationship to me. You don't have to; like you said, it's none of my business. But I'm not a child – even though considering my collection of yoyos you could argue the opposite – I can handle it, you know. You should have told me straight away, don't I at least deserve that courtesy?"
Immediately, as if right on cue, she felt annoyance bubble up inside her and, before she could stop it, force its way out of her mouth. "Don't do this House, don't you dare make out that I'm the bad person here. I try to go away and live a normal life for one weekend, and you can't keep your nose out. You have to interfere, and ruin it, because you can't stand the idea of me being with someone else. You can't stand the idea of me being happy. So don't you dare take the high road with me – you deserve nothing from me. I don't owe you anything." The moment she stopped speaking, she felt a rush of two conflicting emotions. She felt an almost irrepressible urge to sigh with relief, that she had finally been able to speak freely about how much he had put her through, and that it was like a weight of residual anger was lifted from her. But she also felt deep regret, mingled with fear. She'd never wanted to hurt him. Upon dating Lucas it was always going to be an inevitable side effect, but she just never imagined it happening like this, or to this gravity.
"I deserve nothing from you? You can't mess me around Cuddy – you kissed me then ran off back to your boyfriend like nothing happened. I came out of rehab and I stupidly let my best friend convince me that I could actually be happy; all I needed to achieve that was you. I've kept off the vicodin for months, and continued to do so in an attempt to prove to you that I am worthy of your affections. I'm an addict, and you led me on… And you think you don't owe me anything? Wake up and realise what you got yourself in to. Last week, I would have agreed with you. Last week, before you kissed me, it was all me trying to interfere with your life. But not now, not this time." If he'd had the strength in his leg, he would have stood up from the sofa to enforce his point, but he couldn't manage it. It was a shock to the system, because unlike ever before, some of the things he was using to provoke her were actually true. A lot of them were deeply over exaggerated, but every single one had a modicum of truth behind it. However, he also got some twisted satisfaction out of seeing the effect his words had on her; he'd hit every tender spot on her conscience and he could see that finally what she was feeling now rivalled the sense of pain he'd experienced when he heard Lucas' voice.
Every word she'd wanted to say and every emotion she'd felt since the moment they'd shared that kiss was building up in her mind; tumbling around so she couldn't make sense of any of it, and threatening to burst out at any moment. He had provoked her, but in a way that she knew was extremely dangerous. Feelings of confusion, self loathing and desperation wrapped around her heart like a fist, and it felt like she was being suffocated from within. She hated what she'd done to him more than she believed he'd ever know, or understand. It was all she could do to stop tears streaming down her face as the seeds of doubt she'd planted in her mind, and Wilson had unknowingly nurtured, about her relationship with Lucas burst in to full bloom. And it was like her mouth started moving, and words began falling out without her consent and completely out of her control. For once, her heart was acting before her head. "Christ, you have absolutely no idea. We'd never work – you're a crippled, irresponsible, recovering drug addict and I'm a single mom who has a hospital to run. You're too hard work, you're unreliable, you're selfish, you're arrogant and you've got the mother of all egos. And how the hell could I leave you around Rachel? She's a baby; she needs consistency, stability, and unconditional love. In a couple of years time she'll be going to school and she needs someone who'll help with her homework, remember to pick her up from dance class or gym. Not someone who'll never turn up for her music recitals and not bother to help her pick a outfit for her birthday party. No matter how many times Wilson tells me you've changed, you're still House and I can't put my daughter through that." She took a deep breath, and stepped out from hiding behind her child. "And I can't put myself through that, either. But none of those things mean I don't think of you, compare every aspect of my relationship with Lucas to you. They don't mean that I don't live for the battles of wills between us that can go back and forth for sometimes days. That is why we kissed. And that's why I have to keep my distance from you – it's not fair on him. He's dependable, he treats me amazingly and he's great with Rachel. He makes me laugh, he cares for me, and I think he loves me. And he makes me happy." She could have stopped there, but she didn't. "But none of that, not one single bit of it, means that I'm not still in love with you."
Upon hearing the incessant ringing of his cell phone, Wilson groaned, blindly reached to the other side of the bed without opening his eyes, grabbed a pillow and held it over his own head. This wasn't actually a suicide mission, but an extremely tired attempt to drown out the sound disturbing his sleep. Then for about a minute, his phone lay silent and still on the bedside cabinet, and he was lulled into a false sense of security. He lifted the pillow and turned over, ready to be swallowed back in to sleep – and then the ringing resumed. Groggily and extremely reluctantly, he pushed himself into the sitting position cursing under his breath, rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times before glancing at the digital clock on top of his chest of drawers. It was almost half eleven but he'd gone to bed early after an extremely exhausting day. He sighed and reached over for the cell phone and without even looking at the display for the identity of the caller, flipped it open and pressed it to the side of his face. "House, I'm trying to sleep. Go away."
"It's not House, it's Foreman. And Thirteen and Taub. Do you know where he is?"
The surprise of hearing a voice on the other end of the line that wasn't that of his best friend woke him up slightly. "Oh, right, sorry. Is he not answering his phone? I know he said something about going to see-" But as Wilson thought about the end to that sentence, he decided it might be best not to finish it. If House had indeed gone to see Cuddy and that was why he wasn't answering his phone, whichever way it turned out, they had to be left to sort themselves out or things would only get worse between them. So instead, he was a little creative with the truth. "No, I don't know where he is. Is there anything I can help with?"
All sitting around the glass table in House's outer office, with the office phone on speaker phone, Foreman, Thirteen and Taub all looked at one another. They knew the course of action they'd suggested, and House had sanctioned, left them hugely open for liability which made them reluctant to divulge it, but on the other hand, Wilson was used to House's idea of a good plan of action and therefore would probably not be surprised by the decision and would definitely not get Cuddy involved, considering that was the last thing House would want. Each of the three fellows nodded at one another and came to a silent understanding to tell him the truth. Foreman took the lead, as per usual. "We've got a patient with renal failure – she has a history of extremely poor health and is slightly obese, which we didn't tell House because it's not medically relevant and he'd only mock her, but her only new and fatal symptom is her kidneys. There are so many possible explanations for kidney failure that House thou-" He faltered, frowning a little, "we thought it might be a reasonable idea to do nothing, and wait for more information, so we can narrow the ddx. Except, now she's a whole lot worse."
Wilson sighed, rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand and made a very apprehensive decision. "Okay, don't worry about House, I'll deal with him. Start running a differential between yourselves and I'll be with you in no longer than twenty five minutes." He cut off the call without waiting for a reply, and climbed slowly out of bed, hoping he'd made the right decision and House and Cuddy were actually somewhere dealing with their issues.