Beautiful Lies

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Ch. 7

"Neurosarcoidosis," House announced as Taub came into the room. "Am I right?"

Taub nodded. He should be surprised, but he really wasn't. "I did an autopsy."

"You wouldn't have needed an autopsy if you'd done a brain biopsy."

Taub looked down. "A biopsy was too dangerous—"

House smiled humorlessly. "And you would've had to face Big Bad Cuddy to ask permission. Better play it safe, do tests for everything else first. Who cares if it explains the vision loss, the nausea from vertiginous sensations--"

"Yeah. We were cowards, all right?" Taub interrupted. "I get it. Next time we'll be more reckless and whatever…"

"Did you come for anything else, or just to prove me right—again?" House asked.

"Actually, I came to say…" Taub stood aside as a figure came through the door. "Cuddy's here."

"Whoa." House said. "Whoa, whoa, wait. She," he pointed at a slightly stunned Cuddy, "can't be here. But you," he pointed to Taub, "acknowledged her presence. Which means you can't be here, either." He put his finger down. "Damn. I thought I was actually right."

Cuddy stood there, awkward and uncomfortable. She'd thought of having Taub announce her so House would know that he wasn't hallucinating. But apparently, House was completely set on her being a figment of his imagination. She nodded at Taub. "Can you please give us a minute?"

Taub left with alacrity.

Cuddy studied House, with a poignant pang in her heart. House's stubble had grown out to a straggly, grey-streaked beard. His eyes were red-rimmed, he was breathing shallowly, and his face was marked with exhaustion. He looked like hell.

"Hey Cuddy," House said cheerfully. Cuddy was sure he'd behave differently if he thought she was real.

"Oh, House," she said softly, coming to sit beside him on the bed. She bit her lips. She had been so full of purpose in coming here. Now she didn't know what to say. She looked into House's normally intense eyes, now a faded blue, worn by pain and sleeplessness.

House looked at her expectantly. When she still didn't say anything, he began, "Do you have anything to say, or—"

"We think we know what's causing your hallucinations," Cuddy blurted out.

House grinned. "This is so cool. My hallucination's telling me what's causing my hallucinations."

Cuddy closed her eyes. She couldn't bear that he didn't believe that she was real. "House. What can I do to convince you that I'm really here?"

House thought. "You could do a striptease," he suggested.

Cuddy smiled. He hadn't changed. "I doubt that would work."

"No," House said, studying her face closely. The intent light was coming back to his eyes. "My hallucinations never do what I want. If you strip, then it'd prove I have some control over them. Maybe I can make Amber do cartwheels next..."

Cuddy didn't know if she wanted to laugh or cry.

"But you were saying?" House said, seeming to break out of his scrutinizing.

"Well," Cuddy tried to gather herself. "We think that the deep-brain stimulation you did last year, combined with your Vicodin abuse, caused your hallucinations."

House mulled this over. "Makes sense. Vicodin's never caused hallucinations before the DBS. And it would explain why they hadn't gone away after I detoxed." He smiled. "I'm a genius."

He still thought that she was a hallucination! She guessed she couldn't blame him. "We want to induce a coma to reboot your brain," she said, trying to stay on task.

"Like the ketamine treatment," House said, nodding slowly.

"I know it didn't work for long, but—" Cuddy rushed.

House held up a hand to stop her. "Cuddy," he said seriously. "I would do anything to make this stop." He reached out to gently brush his thumb across her cheekbones, down the side of her face, lost in his own thoughts.

Maybe she wanted to prove to him that she was real. Maybe she wanted to do something, anything, to make his pain a little bit better. Whatever the reason was, she leaned in and kissed him.

She had meant for it to be gentle and quick. But his arm had suddenly come around her and crushed her to him. He devoured her mouth hungrily, and she responded in kind. He tasted bitter, and his lips were chapped, but he felt so good, so right.

He suddenly broke away and stared at her with a sort of horror. "I can't," he breathed. "I can't do this again."

"House—" she said. She had no idea how she was going to finish that sentence.

His screwed up his face for a moment as he thought. "Cuddy," he said finally. "This is going to sound really stupid, but on the off chance you are real," he whispered, "Because you feel so real right now…"

"House, I am real," Cuddy said desperately.

"Then you should know that I have," he sucked in a breath, "experienced many things. Involving you. Most of it wholly a figment of my impaired brain." He looked down and avoided her eyes. "I don't know where we're at in our real life relationship anymore, I--"

"House," she said earnestly, forcing him to look at her. "It's all right. We'll get you through this, and then we can figure out...whatever it is that we have." The realization that he really did want a relationship with her was overwhelming. "Anyways," she smiled in an attempt to lighten the mood, "The hospital is falling apart without you."

He smiled a little. "Of course. I'm your hospital's biggest asset." Then he shivered, as if recalling something unpleasant. He drew away.

Cuddy stood up. She swallowed. "I'll inform your psychiatrist to arrange a chemically-induced coma," she said quickly.

"That's what they all say," House sighed as she left.

--

Cuddy tried to get her breathing back to normal as she came back into the car where Wilson was waiting for her.

"How was your brother?" she asked nonchalantly, watching Taub walk back to his own car.

"Good," Wilson said in an equally non-committal tone. "How was House?"

"As well as can be expected," she said.

Wilson started the engine. Cuddy turned to him and opened her mouth. "Is there a reason why you won't see him?" she demanded.

"Cuddy," Wilson said in a warning tone, keeping his eyes on the road. "I don't want to discuss this right now."

"You sent him to the hospital," she continued. "You keep posted on his progress daily. But you haven't visited him."

"You'd only visited him for the first time today!" Wilson countered.

"You visited your brother—but you won't go see him. Why?"

"Do you have any idea how much you sound like House right now?" Wilson said.

"Well I'm starting to sympathize with him, the way you're deflecting!" Cuddy exclaimed.

Wilson took a breath. "Look. After the induced coma, House'll be back to normal—or as normal as he'll ever be, anyway. There's no point talking about this."

Cuddy was quiet for a while. Then she said, "He's not your brother, Wilson."

"I know he isn't," Wilson said.

"He'll never turn into your brother."

"I know."

"But I don't think you believe it," Cuddy said quietly.

Wilson sighed. "No, I don't." Then he muttered under his breath, "you and House are so made for each other."

The Huddy scene was really hard to write. Please review!