Physician, Heal Thyself

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Ch. 6

When five o'clock rolled around again, and Cuddy was packing up to leave, she reflected that she had seen very little of House today. What the heck was he up to?

She decided to look for him in his office, but he wasn't there. Feeling a little confused, she headed for the elevator to go back down, and just as she reached to push the button, the door opened.

She stepped back in surprise. House stepped out the elevator, wearing t-shirt and shorts that were soaked through with sweat. He was breathing heavily.

"Oh," she said.

House evidently did not expect to see her there, and he looked quite uncomfortable. "I just got back from an orgy session with several of the nurses," he said quickly.

"Mhm," she said, folding her arms. "What were you doing, House?"

He didn't answer, and instead brushed past her to go to his office. She followed. She noticed that he was gritting his teeth and rubbing his leg.

"Are you in pain?" She exclaimed. Stupid question, she immediately chastised herself. But she couldn't help it; she was so surprised.

"Kind of hard not to be in pain when you've just ran on the treadmill for two hours," he snapped. His eyes flicked to his desk drawer quickly.

"House," she said concernedly, going over to him. "Are you trying to rehabilitate your leg muscle on your own?"

"Yes," he said shortly. "Don't need some therapist breathing down my neck." He sank down on his chair with a groan and closed his eyes.

Cuddy was lost for words. She was beyond excited that House was doing something to get better, but she knew he needed help. He couldn't do this on his own, nobody could.

"Right," she said matter-of-factly, recognizing that House did not need a lecture at the moment. "Let's get you on some pain meds, and we can go home and figure this out."

"No!" House snapped. Then speaking in a calmer voice, "No meds."

"House, are you sure?" she asked, looking into his eyes, trying to fathom his thoughts.

He abruptly looked away. "Yeah."

"You are not going to get addicted again," Cuddy stated, thinking she knew what this was about.

His eyes flicked to his drawer again. "That's what you think."

Cuddy's eyes narrowed. She went over and opened the drawer, which was unlocked. She widened her eyes when she saw the bottle of Vicodin.

"Did you take any, House?" She held up the bottle, speaking in a controlled voice.

"If I did, I wouldn't be in pain now, would I?" House growled. Cuddy believed him. Even though House was not above lying, his voice was too raw right now to be anything other than truthful.

"Why do you have this?" She asked, her tone sympathetic, not accusing.

House closed his eyes again, and tilted his head back. "I found it hidden inside the towel rack bar in my bathroom," he admitted, not wanting to see the look of disappointment on Cuddy's face.

"House," Cuddy said, going over to sit beside him. "I'm sorry."

"What the hell are you sorry for?" House asked in surprise, his eyes flying open.

"Sorry that Wilson and I missed it, and you had to go through…" she trailed off, not knowing the right word.

"The temptation?" House supplied for her. "Yeah, I was tempted. And I'm going to be tempted every time I see Vicodin or any other pain medication. Good thing I work in a hospital." His tone was bitter as the pills she held in her hand.

"House…" Cuddy knew that House hated this, hated being weak and not in control of himself.

"I am—was—am—an addict, Cuddy," House said, screwing his eyes shut as he wavered between tenses. "I'm like an AA member working in a liquor store. Nothing you can do about it."

"Was," Cuddy stated firmly. "And you're in pain, it's only natural you would want—"

"Stop making excuses for me," House said quietly, standing up with effort. "I've been doing that myself my whole life."

Cuddy nodded. She grabbed House's backpack for him. "Let's go."

"Go where?" House asked.

Cuddy turned to him, smiling. "You're moving in, remember?"

--

They first drove to House's apartment to get a few things. They stood together in the bathroom, in front of the toilet.

She held the bottle of Vicodin out for him to flush.

"It's not a fucking pet goldfish," House snapped, refusing to take it.

"House," Cuddy tried to explain, "if you do it—"

"I know you're all about the self empowerment," House said. "The whole I'm-above-the-drug kind of thing. But this isn't therapy, so just flush it and get the damn thing over with."

Cuddy sighed, and conceded. She unceremoniously dumped the contents of the bottle into the toilet and turned the handle. She looked over at House. His face was expressionless as the white pills, his saviors and his demons, went around and around before disappearing down the drain to be dissolved in the sewage waters.

They stood together in silence, Cuddy a bit nervous.

"Lucky rats," House finally said, wistfully.

Cuddy turned to him. He was looking at her, a hint of a rueful smile on his face. She laughed aloud in relief, and wrapped her arms around him.

He held her, resting his chin on the top of her head, smelling the scent of her hair. "Can my piano come, mommy?"

She laughed, and let go of him. "Yes, your piano can come. But it'll have to wait a while. And unless you want to wait here with it..." she trailed off as she turned to leave, giving a seductive smile over her shoulder.

"No, it'll be good on its own," House said quickly, following her, smiling.

--

House took a shower while Cuddy went to take care of Rachel. When he came out wrapped in a towel, she was rocking the baby in her arms, walking up and down the hallway to sooth her.

"How's your pain?" Cuddy asked when she saw him.

"It's better," he said, looking at her holding the baby.

"Why are you smiling?" Cuddy asked suspiciously.

"You look like a mother," House said simply.

Cuddy opened her mouth in surprise. Before she could reply, though, he disappeared into the bedroom to change. A huge smile spread over her face.

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