Beautiful Lies Part 2

Physician, Heal Thyself

Hey guys I'm baaaack! Welcome to Part 2 of Beautiful Lies, entitled Physician, Heal Thyself. Happy Birthday Hugh Laurie!!!!

"House," Wilson said over the phone, puzzled. "Why haven't you come to work yet?"

"Still fired," House said through a mouthful of chips, eyes fixed on the TV, hand stuck in the jumbo bag of Lays. He was in his sweatpants and a t-shirt, feet propped up on the coffee table.

"House—" Wilson started to say, exasperated.

"Cuddy," House swallowed exaggeratedly, "will have to come and tell me I'm unfired before I go back. We can't have some unemployed person off the street show up and start doing differentials! What will the world come to?"

Wilson rolled his eyes. House was back being a stubborn ass. It was pointless to argue with him. "Fine," he said curtly. "I'll tell Cuddy. But you're acting like a child, and I'm not sure she'll indulge your sulking."

"She'd better, if she doesn't want patients to keep dying on her," House said, clicking off the phone, and resolutely stuffed another handful of chips in his mouth.

Wilson sighed, and dialed Cuddy's extension.

"Yes?" Cuddy said absentmindedly, perusing a file.

"House still isn't back yet," Wilson said.

"That would explain why he hasn't burst in my office asking permission for some crazy treatment," Cuddy said, tucking the phone between her shoulder and her cheek to scrawl her signature on something.

"He says he's still fired."

Cuddy stopped. "He knows he isn't."

"Yeah, I know. He's milking the thing. He wants you to go over and personally rehire him."

Cuddy laughed. "Haha. Right. He wants me in his apartment."

Wilson was about to say, "Well maybe you should go," before stopping and remembering that he was to dabble no more in matchmaking. So he stayed silent.

"Thanks, Wilson," Cuddy said, not noticing his pause. "I'll handle it." She hung up, and dialed House's home number.

"Hello," House said.

"House, get back to work now," Cuddy said.

"Who is this?" House asked.

Cuddy huffed a sigh of exasperation. "I don't have time for your games, House—"

"I'm sorry?" House said, sounding genuinely confused.

Cuddy was slightly taken aback. Did he really not recognize her voice?

"Look, whoever this is," House said, "I am recovering from an intensive treatment and my memory is a little off right now. Frequent lapses and everything. So if you could just tell me who you are…"

Cuddy's eyes narrowed. House sounded much too sincere. And he must have been expecting her phone call after talking to Wilson. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she said, as sincere as he was, "this is…" she cast her glance around the room for inspiration and alighting upon a gift from a donor, "Turkish Delights Escort Service. We're sorry but your regular order has had to be cancelled due to a problem with…gonorrhea."

She heard a strangled silence from the other end, as though House was trying to suppress laughter.

"Ah yes," he said, after a while, "and the tone you were taking with me earlier, that was – the phone sex compensation, I take it?" She could just imagine him with his eyebrows raised.

"Yes," Cuddy said, nodding. "To make it up to you. Because you are such a loyal customer," she said, putting extra emphasis on the word loyal.

"The Boss Lady package," he suggested, amusement evident in his tone.

"That's right," Cuddy said, leaning back in her chair, a devious smile playing on her lips.

"Well, then," House said. "I'm ready."

"Dr. House," Cuddy said, in her best seductive voice (and she swore that she could hear House gulp), "if you do not come in before noon, I promise you I will make sure that your ass is dragged into clinic and you will stuck swabbing crotches until you rot."

"Hey!" House yelped. "Clinic is not sexy! You clearly don't know what you're doing, woman."

Cuddy laughed. "I expect you in my office in twenty minutes, House." She hung up, a triumphant smile on her face.

Cuddy had suspected that House would be awkward around her, after what happened three weeks ago. This was her way of making sure that everything returned to normal as quickly as possible.

--

"Next time, I expect better service," House said by way of introduction as he limped into her office.

Cuddy smiled, and handed him a file. "Fifteen year old patient with facial swelling and respiratory difficulty and it's not an allergy."

House nodded, leafing through the file. She studied him carefully: this was the first time she'd seen him since his coma. He was in his usual, slightly disheveled state of dress that she secretly found adorable. He appeared better rested since Kutner's death. He looked himself enough: but was he really back to normal? Were they back to normal?

The ease they had over the phone was rapidly disappearing. Suddenly, the air was thick with tension. He looked up and met her eyes.

"House," she began.

In a rapid movement, House snatched the box of Turkish Delights from her desk. "Very creative," he said, raising an eyebrow, and turned to leave with the file and the box of sweets, popping one into his mouth into the process. "See ya, Cuddy," he said with his mouth full.

Cuddy sighed. Classic House deflection. Oh well, can't blame him, she thought, and went back to her files.

--

"I'm baaack," House announced to his ducklings.

"Why do you have a box of Turkish Delights?" Thirteen asked.

"Welcome-back present from Cuddy," House answered, tossing the package on the table. "To let me know how delightful I am. Symptoms," he said, limping over to the whiteboard, but not before tossing a dark look towards Taub.

Taub swallowed. He knew this was going to happen. While all the fellows knew about House in the psychiatrist hospital, he was the only one who had gone to visit him. He saw House at his most vulnerable, and he was not sure that House was going to forgive him for that.

"Hyperthyroidism?" Foreman suggested. "The patient is irritable."

"Or maybe the irritability is simply due to her being fifteen and having a swollen face," Thirteen shot back. "And it's nephrotic syndrome."

"Her urine was fine," Foreman retorted.

"Whoa," House said, throwing up his hands in mock-surprise. "A lover's spat, I see. Awesome. Maybe you can actually break up this time."

"Irritability could also be a symptom of Cushing's," Foreman said, glaring darkly at Thirteen.

"Go test for Cushing's and hyperthyroidism," House said as the team stood up. "Not Taub. He has my clinic hours to cover."

Foreman and Thirteen left, absorbed in their mutual animosity. Taub hung back.

"You can't punish me—" He began.

House was already limping towards his office. He threw a backward glance at Taub. "Who said I'm punishing you? Clinic hours are actually a sign of favor in some cultures." He pretended to think about this for a second. "That must be why Cuddy gives me so many of them." With that, House closed his office door behind him and Taub was left with no choice but to go to the clinic.

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