Author's Notes: Thanks to IHeartHouseCuddy, Abby, Alex, HuddyGirl, ladyyuuki16, grouchysnarky, red blood, EllieShelly, dmarchl, paroulis, Temo, Lana, jwhite2199, hughsoulingregsmind, newdayz, JessicaLynH, houseblue, Josam, harvesttime, sandlinerica, and MissBates for taking the tim to read and leave me feedback. It means so much. Thanks, guys!
Disclaimer: I'm sure Greg Yaitanes has better things to do with his time than write fanfiction. Therefore, I'm not him or anyone else involved with the show.
Gift of Screws
Chapter Twenty: Doubt
By Duckie Nicks
"Essential oils are wrung:
The attar from the rose
Is not expressed by suns alone,
It is the gift of screws." – Emily Dickinson
The feel of someone's hand pushing into her crotch woke her up abruptly. A groan escaping her throat, she was too tired to even open her eyes. But she thought she didn't need to to discourage House. "House," she half moaned, half whined. The hand was followed by a knee. "Oh, for the love of God, leave me alone."
A tiny laugh was what she got for a response. It was high pitched, not at all like a man's laugh.
That was when she noticed, in between the giggles, the familiar sound of House snoring. So he couldn't possibly be the one laughing or on top of her.
Confused Cuddy opened her eyes to see Rachel crawling up the bed. "Rachel," she said sleepily. Reaching down, Cuddy pulled her up the rest of the bed. "Come snuggle with Mommy."
Rachel let her pull her into a hug, but she was clearly not interested in lying in bed the way Cuddy was right now. "Can we play a game?"
Cuddy kissed her daughter's shoulder. "In a minute," she slurred. She didn't mean to be this tired or out of it. Normally when Rachel woke her up, she could get up right away and stay awake. But thanks to whatever House had put in her tea, the need to sleep overrode her general nature. "Just… close your eyes and sleep with your mama for a while."
Those words might have worked when Rachel was two or three, when she could be easily convinced that lying in bed with her mother was different than being all alone in her crib. For the most part though, that had changed; Rachel wasn't fooled as often as Cuddy would have liked, wouldn't go back to sleep, no matter what Cuddy said. But there were times when it did still work. Sometimes Rachel really did just want to be held close. Whether that was what she wanted today, Cuddy never knew.
She was asleep before she'd even had a chance to notice Rachel's reaction.
When she woke up again, it was to the sound of a loud bang. She had no idea how much time had passed, but as she shot out of bed, she knew that noises were not a good sign. It had meant she'd been asleep long enough for something to go wrong.
Sitting up, she looked over to House. He was prostrate on the mattress. One arm tucked against his stomach, the other was draped over her pillow. He'd kicked the covers down, so that they only covered up to one of his knees on one leg and an ankle on the other. Sounds were coming from the bathroom, but clearly it wasn't bothering him.
Which meant that, as always, she was the one who had to figure out was going on.
Begrudgingly she kicked the covers off of her body. Her bare legs were not prepared for the cool air, and she shivered the second she no longer had the sheets to ward off the chill. But hearing the sound of something crashing in the bathroom, she didn't bother to put on pants. She simply headed straight to the bathroom and pushed the almost closed door open.
She was anything but prepared for the mess she saw. A half-crushed box of tampons lie in the middle of the floor, a couple tampons strewn about near the toilet and on the bath mat. Her birth control was in said toilet. Toilet paper had been unraveled, and both the tube of toothpaste and bottle of lubricant were spilled on the tile. And standing in the middle of the mess was a disheveled Rachel.
"What did you do?" Cuddy demanded, angrier than she intended. Her head pounded as she hurled the words out. She didn't mean to sound so furious, but she felt hung over and grouchy, and like a dial stuck to one channel, she found herself unable to be patient.
"I –"
"Why did you make this mess?" She clutched her head with one of her hands as her headache seemed to get worse.
"I said I wanted to play," Rachel reminded her.
Cuddy forced herself to inhale and exhale a few times to prevent herself from losing her temper. As awful as this was, she knew she was reacting to the drugs, to the way her body was responding to whatever the hell was in her body. It wasn't about Rachel, and she couldn't let it be.
"You have toys," Cuddy said in a tone that she tried very hard to make it seem calm.
"I got bored."
"Well… that's not an excuse. You can't just…." Her voice trailed off as she noticed the brown pill bottle carelessly laying on the sink. The top had popped off, and several of the pills had spilled out, which made it possible for her to see what drug it was. Her haze made it difficult to get to the conclusion that seemed right on the tip of her tongue. "A bathroom's not…." And then she realized:
It was Vicodin.
Immediately she felt wide awake. All of her senses were heightened, and her heart began to race with the possibility that Rachel had been playing with House's Vicodin. Instantly, Cuddy grabbed the bottle.
"Were you playing with this?" she demanded to know. So much for not losing her temper, she thought. "Were you?"
Rachel was taken aback by the question. "No," she said hesitantly.
"Rachel."
"I didn't!"
Cuddy didn't believe her. "Did you take any of them?"
"No –"
"Honey, this is very important," she said sternly. "If you took one, you need to let me know. Even if you didn't think it was bad for you, I need you to tell me if you swallowed one of these."
The seriousness in her voice scared Rachel. Cuddy could see it happening. The more she tried to stress how important this all was, the more her daughter was beginning to think that she had done something wrong. And technically pill or no pill, she had done something wrong, very wrong, in making the bathroom look like this. But all this insistence about the Vicodin took away from that and clearly made Rachel confused and fearful.
"No," she answered after a second. "Don't like medicine. It's yucky."
"Are you sure?" Cuddy didn't mean to badger, but this was as serious a matter as it got. If Rachel had taken a pill because she'd thought it was candy or because she was bored, she needed to say that now. Obviously she was denying it, but that didn't necessarily mean anything, did it?
Of course, by being insistent, Cuddy had guaranteed that her daughter would be too afraid to tell the truth if she had taken some of the Vicodin. She would see her mother, who was being, admittedly, unintentionally hysterical, and she would be too fearful to say what she had done. She would assume that she would be in trouble, and wanting to avoid that, she would lie… even if lying was dangerous in this instance.
"Uh huh. Didn't play with them," she said with a nod of the head.
"You're sure about this?"
"I taked none!" Rachel screamed, apparently having had enough of this line of questioning.
Cuddy's eyes narrowed on her as she made that outburst. "Don't talk to me like that, Rachel," she said firmly. "I'm –"
"No! I don't like pills! And –"
"The next person who screams," a tired voice interrupted. "Is going to be getting a buttload of pills to shut them up if they don't stop yelling."
House wasn't kidding either.
Their squabbling had woken him up minutes ago, and though he had tried to ignore their fighting, they had made that impossible. They had made him get out of bed, when he could have been sleeping, to interrupt their argument.
Glancing around the bathroom, he could easily see why everyone was upset; the room had been trashed. And between that unpleasant sight, the party he was going to have to go to in the near future, and their angry voices, he was in no mood to deal with this fight of theirs.
He would, of course, step in, if only to shut them up. But he'd run out of patience before he'd stepped over the threshold to the bathroom. And if they both insisted on yelling, he really wasn't going to be above jamming a few pills down their gullet as though they were hyper, overreactive, neurotic terriers.
"What is going on?" he asked in that way that said he didn't really care what was going on; he just wanted everyone to shut up.
Immediately Rachel ran towards him. He thought she was scampering to escape, trying to avoid whatever punishment she knew she would get for, evidently, unwrapping several of Cuddy's tampons and squeezing toothpaste all over the place. But Rachel didn't try to duck out the door. She simply moved next to him, as though he were going to protect her from her crazy mother.
He didn't exactly enjoy the picture that painted in his mind. But his discomfort was only surpassed by Cuddy's. Seeing her own child seek some reassurance in him seemed to make her angry – and not at Rachel, but at him.
He wasn't sure if her irritation was because Rachel seemed to like him at all or because Rachel seemed to think that he would back her up in this fight. The latter certainly would have been a more reasonable conclusion, given the circumstances. Yet House knew that Cuddy could be anything but rational when it came to her daughter. And as much as she said she wanted him to have a relationship with Rachel, sometimes Cuddy behaved as though sharing Rachel was the last thing she wanted.
Of course, he could understand that. Cuddy loved her daughter and wanted to be able to do everything for her. With her job, that was obviously not possible, and he supposed that no one could ever really single handedly give their child everything he or she wanted. But Cuddy was… well, Cuddy. She didn't easily recognize logical limitations or let that stop her from striving for better. Professionally that made her an adept problem solver; professionally it was the reason he had a job at all. Yet that kind of thinking didn't always translate well to their home. She wanted to be the one to give Rachel everything, to do everything for her. And when that didn't happen, when Rachel came to him for something, that was obviously upsetting to her.
Knowing that he was not surprised she turned to him in anger. "I don't think you understand what's going on," she told him in a way that sounded like an accusation.
He didn't deny the charge. "Well, to be fair, I was hoping to understand absolutely none of it on account of being unconscious. But since you both woke me up, I have no choice but to –"
"She got in your Vicodin stash," she nearly shouted.
Suddenly he could understand why she was upset. The problem was two-fold; like everything else, it couldn't just be one thing motivating her fear. Sure, there was the terrifying idea that Rachel had ingested some of the medication. But House knew that in the back of Cuddy's mind, there was an equally problematic concern for her.
She had been the one to let the Vicodin in the house. It was his obviously, but he would have been to content to keep it in his car, in a hollowed out book at work, in his apartment – anywhere else. But she had insisted that it be here. If he were going to take the drug, she wanted it to be as open and blatant as possible so that she could monitor his use. In other words, through no encouragement of his own, she had demanded he bring the drug into their home. And if Rachel had taken any, Cuddy would think how she had been the one to cause that scenario.
She would hate herself for that, and chances were, even if Rachel hadn't swallowed a single pill, Cuddy would regret her actions. Which meant that he could no longer keep the drug here, he thought. She hadn't said anything yet, and it might take her a while to actually broach the topic, but she wouldn't want the Vicodin in her home any longer. Regardless of what she'd initially thought was best for him, she would want it gone in order to protect her daughter.
Truth be told, he was okay with that. After all, it wasn't like he had wanted the Vicodin here. She had created that scenario. But, thinking that her mind was already teeming with personal guilt, he decided that that was not something he should say. In fact, given the way she was reacting, he felt that right now there was only thing to do:
Diffuse the situation as best he could.
Looking down at Rachel, he picked her up. He wanted to be able to look her in the eyes and at the same time, ensure that she couldn't run away.
"Put me down," she whined.
He ignored her. "Did you take one of those –"
"No," she snarled, her legs kicking about wildly.
He responded by hugging her to his body.
With her secure in his grasp, he knew he was in no danger of being kicked. She would try; he understood she would try, but she wouldn't be able to hurt him.
Turning his attention back to Cuddy, he said, "She says she didn't take one."
That wasn't enough for her. "And you think she's going to tell the truth if –"
"I think she is telling the truth."
Cuddy wasn't wrong to think that Rachel might lie. Given the way Cuddy was behaving, that actually seemed like a perfectly reasonable response. But House had looked in Rachel's eyes, and he had seen honesty. She had many visible and audible tells when she lied, and he had noticed absolutely none of them.
Cuddy didn't seem convinced. "But –"
"Rachel," he said, not letting Cuddy finish her sentence. "If you took a pill –"
"I didn't!" she screamed.
"But if you did, we would have take you to the hospital, because you would get really sick. And if you didn't take one, then you'll have tons of fun cleaning all of this up," he explained. "Either way, the next hour or so is gonna suck for you, so there's no point in lying."
Rachel looked apoplectic with anger, her cheeks were so red. "Didn't. lie," she said through gritted teeth.
"Then you can start cleaning," he told her cheerfully. Putting her down on the ground once more, he gestured towards the mess she had made. She hesitated to pick anything up, so he gave her a small push toward the spilled tube of toothpaste. "Go on," he said.
Rachel looked like she was wishing she had taken some Vicodin, a pain he was all too familiar with. But she did start to clean up. As she started balling up the toilet paper strewn about the room, he turned his attention to Cuddy, who seemed equal parts angry and confused.
Reaching for her, he tucked his fingers into the waistband of her panties. His button down covered her on that front, but having dressed her, he knew exactly where to hook his fingers. Tugging her toward him, he said, "You come with me."
"House." She was uncomfortable with his hand that close to her vagina when her daughter was in the room with them. Quickly Cuddy shoved his hand away, but she followed him back out into their bedroom anyway. When they were alone once more, she said, "You can't do that in front of her. You can't –"
"You need to relax," he told her gently, pulling her into a hug. His embrace was warm and just what she wanted, but it didn't make her feel any better.
"I can't," she confessed. Her voice turning accusatory, she said, "Whatever you put in that tea…. I can't – I just want to go back to sleep."
"Then do it," he said, like there was nothing else she had to do today, like she could easily just do that without any consequences. "There's still some time."
"No, there's not," she whined into his chest. Rubbing her face against his soft t-shirt, she said, "I need to wake up, start getting ready."
He patted her back. "Then go make yourself some tea or use that espresso machine I got you that you never use and wake up. I'll make sure Rachel cleans the bathroom."
"No." She shook her head. "I don't think –"
"Then do whatever you want," he said dismissively. "But seriously? You're gonna have to put on pants if you're going to keep acting like this. You look ridiculous."
She half scoffed, half laughed. She supposed she did look ridiculous. "Fine," she agreed. "I'm gonna make coffee."
As she pulled away from him, he asked, "Make me a cup?"
"Yeah. Sure. You'll keep an eye on her?" He nodded his head. "All right."
She started to walk away, but he called after her. "I'm serious about the pants thing," he told her. "I see legs and thighs, and I –"
"I will put on pants," she said turning back to him. "If you keep it in yours."
House shrugged. "Okay."
Frankly, given how many times he'd fucked her this weekend, not doing her again was a pretty easy request to handle. He hadn't exactly been kidding when he spoke of the effect her legs were having on him, but sex was the last thing he wanted right now.
"She threw my birth control into the toilet," Cuddy told him, perhaps thinking he really did want to have sex with her.
"Why would she –"
"I have no idea," she said with a shrug.
"Well, thank God your mouth can't –"
"I have another pack under the sink."
That didn't comfort him. "Assuming she didn't build a fort with them."
"I don't know," she admitted. "But I'm letting you know so you don't freak out when you see the pills in the toilet."
He nodded his head. "Understood. I'll try not to cut off my own dick at the prospect of getting you pregnant."
House hadn't wanted to sex to begin with. But knowing that there was a possibility she didn't have birth control, he really didn't care that her legs looked enticing right then. Playing with what existed between those legs could lead to bad things.
He could get her pregnant if he weren't careful and Rachel had ruined all of the birth control in the home.
For that reason it was easy for him to watch her walk away without feeling the urge to jump her.
Turning away from her, he headed back to the bathroom. Rachel was mopping up toothpaste with some toilet paper, which was just making the mess even bigger.
"Don't do that," he told her calmly. She looked up at him, unhappiness putting the frown on her face. "You're just going to make a mess. A bigger mess." Pointing to the tampons all along the ground, he said, "You clean those up. I'll take care of the spill."
She nodded okay, and it wasn't hard to understand why. Picking up Mommy's crotch corks was a lot easier than wiping up toothpaste and lube – as he discovered quickly. As he started to clean up the mess with paper towels and some lemon-scented spray Cuddy kept under the sink, he realized that it was actually going to take some effort. The lube was slick, the toothpaste sticky, and it was hard to get the right amount of traction that would allow him to clean both substances off the ground.
"House?" Rachel asked.
"Hmm?"
He didn't look at her, but she used the applicator to launch a tampon at his face anyway. Then he did look over at her, and she laughed.
"You think that's funny?"
"Uh huh." He made a gimme motion. "Here. Give me another one." She handed him an unwrapped tampon. "That's nothing," he told her, easily getting the tampon out of its plastic applicator.
Two tampons in hand, he gingerly pushed them into his nostrils. When they were in far enough to stay there on their own, he screwed his face up to exaggerate the effect.
Seeing him do that made Rachel laugh boisterously. Unfortunately, it was at that moment that Cuddy decided to return with mugs of coffee in her hand. And when she saw him, she was definitely not amused by his antics.
"What are you doing?" she asked as though he were a complete idiot.
He pulled a tampon out by the string and held it out for her to take. "Nothing, dear. Just getting one of these out for your convenience… since clearly you could use one right about now."
She still wasn't laughing, and he smirked at her in defiance.
"Rachel," Cuddy said calmly. "You're done here. Go play."
The bathroom was barely cleaned, but Rachel was smart enough to know better than to fight. If her mother said she could leave, of course she was going to do just that. And no one was surprised when she took off as quickly as her chubby legs could go.
As soon as she was gone, Cuddy kicked the door shut behind her. "You know I can't use those now, right?"
He pulled the other tampon out and threw both in the trash. "Oh well."
"You shouldn't encourage her to do those kinds of things. Now she's going to want to play in here –"
"No, she's not," he interrupted. "No kid is going to want to play in the bathroom when –"
"If that were true, this mess wouldn't exist," she pointed out, handing him his mug of coffee.
He took a sip. It was sweeter than he liked, but he didn't complain. It was strong, which was really what he needed. The jolt of caffeine made it possible for him to consider her words… and deny that they were true. "You think she's going to come in here to play after your reaction?"
Cuddy gazed down at her feet, her fingers nervously toying with the handle of her own mug.
"Yeah," she agreed quietly. "You might be right about that."
"I am right about that," he asserted.
"Of course. Cause you're always right when it comes to Rachel."
The comment hit a little too closely to home for him to truly react to it with any sort of humor. No, he thought darkly, he was rarely right when it came to dealing with Rachel. Hadn't his own behavior this weekend proved as much?
But he refused to let that doubt show. Though he didn't see any humor in the situation, he forced himself to handle the moment casually.
He stuck his tongue out at her. "Now see, here I was, going to offer to reach into the toilet and grab your birth control myself."
"And now?"
"Well now you can do this all by yourself, the great pant-less wonder," he said, gesturing to her still bare legs.
She smiled. "House, if you don't help me, my birth control isn't going to be the only thing in the toilet bowl."
"I don't understand. You're gonna make me stand in the –"
"I'm going to drown you if you get up and leave me," she threatened.
This time he was the one who smiled. "Okay," he said setting his mug to the side. Leaning back against the tub, he held his arms open as though he welcomed the challenge. "Let's see you do that."
"Excuse me?"
"You're threatening to drown me. I'd like to see how you plan on getting me anywhere near the toilet."
She glared at him. "You are infuriating. And I probably have more physical strength than –"
"Yes, I imagine with breasts and an ass that big, it must take considerable effort to remain upright," he said with a nod of the head.
"You're an idiot." She was smiling anyway.
"But I'm not wrong."
Gingerly she placed her mug on the countertop.
"Oh," he said patronizingly. "So it's not enough for you to just be wrong. You need to actually prove that you're not right about this." Without a word she moved towards him. "That's fine," he continued. When she stood in front of him, he told her, "I like being this close to your vagina. That's cool."
She grabbed hold of his t-shirt to try to move him, but of course that wasn't going to work. Her hands moved to his head, and though he said, "Ow," when she tugged a little too hard, she still failed.
In fact, as he roped an arm around her thighs and pulled her near him, all she managed to do was get closer to her. "I don't think this is working," he told her when she was pressed against him.
She stopped pulling at him then. Her body nearly going limp, she abruptly shifted gears. Leaning down she kissed him on top of his head. "Fine," she capitulated. "But if there's ever a fire, you should know I'm not dragging your ass out."
"I would challenge you on that, but I'm not going to set a fire and sit in it to prove you're wrong," he said, running his chin along one of her knees.
"Well that would be a first."
He shrugged. "Don't you worry." He patted her ass gently. "I'll remember this conversation in case there ever is a fire, and we'll see who's right then."
"And if I let you die?"
"Then I'd expect a little haunting to be done."
"You'd turn into a ghost?"
"Oh yeah. I hope your ass is prepared for some paranormal activity." He paused for a moment before specifying, "And I do mean your ass specifically, not –"
"Are you really talking about having sex with me as a ghost?"
Well, when she put it like that, it did seem rather ridiculous. "Sorry," he said immediately. "Cleaning supplies must have –"
"I'm sure."
"So you see, I really can't help you keep cleaning…."
"Fine," she said pulling away from him. "I'll do it all by myself."
He knew what she was doing, giving him the option of walking away so that he would stay. It was a cheap way to make him feel guilty, an easy way, and he understood that. He could see it for what it was. But she had had such a difficult weekend as it was that he could not get up and walk away from this mess. Under normal circumstances, sure, he could do that. Today though it would seem cruel to leave her alone to clean up the entire bathroom. Today when she needed him, to deny her even the slightest bit of help would be wrong.
"Never mind," he grumbled.
She had to turn away from him then so that he wouldn't see the triumphant smile on her face. He liked to think that he was the one who controlled their relationship, and certainly he'd exploited her physical weakness during that last round to show that he could do what he wanted and she couldn't make him do anything different. But in the end, she had won the round. She might not have been able to physically move him, but Cuddy had plenty of other tricks up her sleeves to get what she wanted.
"Oh shut up," he snapped, somehow sensing what she was thinking. "Just because you got what you wanted doesn't mean anything."
"I know," she agreed. "It just means I got what I wanted."
He scowled but dropped the matter altogether. For that she was honestly grateful. She loved him dearly, and they were having a playful discussion, but one wrong remark about who was in charge, and they would be fighting. And the last thing she wanted was to argue with him.
Unfortunately that seemed almost inevitable when, five minutes later, he asked, "Why isn't Rachel doing this again?"
"I don't want her to get dirty before the party."
"Well, I've got the messy part," he pointed out. "It's not…." His voice trailed off in that way it did when he was coming to some sort of conclusion. "You let her go, because you felt guilty for yelling at her," he said knowingly.
"No. I just told you what my reason –"
"I know what you said. I also know that that reason doesn't make any sense."
She sighed loudly, reaching into the toilet to grab her birth control pills. Immediately she tossed them into the trash. As they hit the bottom of the can with a thunk, she asked him, "Does it really matter? If I let her go because I feel bad, does it really bother you that much?"
"So you're admitting it," he said, ignoring her question.
"I'm just asking –"
"It would matter to me, sure," he admitted as though that were a given. "You shouldn't let her get away with things, because you feel guilty. Or else, ten years from now, she's going to be like that brat on The Real Housewives of Jersey, and I'm going to have to be the one to buy her another car."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Ashley or is it Ashlee these days?" he wondered out loud. She could only assume he was wondering, anyway; he certainly shouldn't have been looking to her for an answer.
When he watched that crap, it was generally when he couldn't sleep and she was unconscious next to him. She had no clue what he was talking about, as her only glimpses of the show had been when she'd woken up and demanded he go elsewhere to watch it.
In the end, he didn't wait around for her to give him an answer one way or the other. He simply continued talking. "Whatever. I'm just saying, if she doesn't have to clean up this mess, she'll do it again."
She turned to give him a pointed look. "But according to your logic, I've already freaked out and scared her, and she won't play in the bathroom again. That's what you said."
He frowned. "I don't like it when you're smarter than me."
"I do."
She was happy that he let the comment go without a rebuttal or pointing out that he was typically the smarter of the two. Instead, he simply said, "Well, at least Rachel will be in a good mood since she didn't have to clean up."
Cuddy was doubtful of that though. And fast-forward a couple hours later, she understood that she had had good reason to doubt that.
Rachel had already expressed her feelings over this party. She didn't want to go, and despite knowing there were no other options, she still felt as though complaining were the appropriate way to handle this. Frankly, Cuddy could deal with the whining. She didn't like it, but it was tolerable for the most part, because she could easily ignore it.
But when she tried to get Rachel dressed, it was no longer possibly to pretend that this wasn't happening. "Come on," Cuddy said, practically dragging Rachel into her bedroom. "We need to get you dressed."
"Why? You're not dressed. I wanna play."
"I'm waiting for House to get out of the bathroom, and then I'll get showered and get dressed," she explained.
Rachel slowly moved further into the room. "Then why do I –"
"Because Mommy wants you ready to go." Cuddy pulled open her daughter's closet doors. "Now get undressed."
Rachel stomped her foot. "I don't wanna go."
"I know, but that's not an option."
Understanding that that was the case, Cuddy went straight for the dress she knew would improve Rachel's mood. On the whole, Rachel was neither prone to being girly or tomboyish. She neither loved nor hated clothes for the most part. But she really did love one of the dresses she owned.
It was purple but a shade so dark that it almost looked navy. It was made of silk ruffles from top to bottom, and she loved how soft it was against her skin. More than anything though, she liked being able to twirl around to make the ruffles dance. It was sleeveless and would require a sweater to be worn with it. And the prospect of having to shove Rachel into tights was not exactly one Cuddy was looking forward to. But it would be worth it if Rachel had something to be happy about, something to distract her from all of the things she wanted to complain about.
"Look," Cuddy said, trying to pull Rachel's attention away from pouting. "You can wear your dress."
Rachel's eyes immediately lit up. "Really?"
"Uh huh." Cuddy laid the dress flat on Rachel's bed. "But we need to get you undressed. And you've got to promise me you'll try not to spill anything on it."
"I promise," Rachel said instantly and without hesitation.
"All right. Let's skin the cat."
Rachel held her arms straight up in the air, so Cuddy could peel off the sweatshirt the little girl was wearing.
"Can you take off your pants and your socks by yourself?"
Rachel nodded her head. Cuddy turned away from her so she could discretely pull out a pair of tights and a cardigan. Too busy taking off her pants, Rachel didn't notice.
"Why do you say skin the cat?" she asked, kicking her pants off at the ankles.
"I don't know," Cuddy answered after a moment's consideration. "I guess… my father said it to me a few times when I was little. I guess it stuck with me."
Rachel reached down to tug off her socks. "I don't think it's nice to skin cats."
"No," Cuddy agreed. "It's not."
"Can I have a cat?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"You have allergies," she said, turning around with the tights in her hand.
As soon as she did, Rachel saw them. The joy she'd felt instantly died. Her face fell as she understood that her mother wanted to put her in tights.
"No," she whined. "I don't want tights!"
"You're gonna get cold without them, baby," Cuddy tried to explain.
But that didn't make any difference. Rachel didn't want to them, and there was nothing Cuddy could say that would change that. That meant there was no point in trying to rationalize why tights were needed. There was no use in trying to make Rachel understand, because she would always say that she didn't want to wear them.
"Come on," Cuddy said, gesturing with her free hand to the bed. "Sit down, so Mommy can put them –"
"No!"
Cuddy wasn't dismayed. "This isn't optional. You have to wear them. That's all there is to it. Now sit down."
The increased firmness in her voice didn't have any effect on Rachel. Or rather they had an effect; it was just the opposite of what Cuddy wanted. Because as soon as she had made it clear that there were going to be tights involved and there was no way around it, Rachel took off – sprinting nearly naked through the rest of the house.
At first Cuddy didn't want to dignify Rachel with the response of chasing after her. She simply called out, "Get back here, Rachel. Right now." When that didn't work, she knew she had no choice but to follow after her.
By then though, Rachel had had enough time to run and hide. She wasn't sure why Mommy hadn't followed after her right away. Normally she was good at catching her and taking her back. But this time, Rachel had managed to run away.
She was happy about that… until she realized she needed to hide. Mommy wouldn't stay where she was for forever. She would realize what had happened and come after her. And she would be mad, so she would be mad at Rachel when she found her, and Rachel didn't want that to happen. Cause when Mommy was mad, that meant it was time out time.
But she wasn't sure where she should hide. Mommy was in her room, so that meant she couldn't hide in there, because Mommy would see her, and it would be easy to catch her. She couldn't run outside, because that wasn't allowed, and even if it was, she was pretty much naked, so she would get cold. She didn't like being cold.
Mommy always checked under the dining room table, so Rachel thought that that wasn't a very good option.
"Rachel." She didn't dare turn around at hearing her mother's voice. She didn't want to see Mommy looking for her or worse, looking at her, so she made an immediate choice to sprint for the nearest hiding spot she could find.
In this case, it was House's office. Actually, that sounded like a good idea, because she wasn't allowed in House's office, and Mommy wouldn't look in here anyway.
But the second Rachel slipped into the room and closed the door behind her, she thought it wasn't a very good choice at all.
House was in there. He was playing a videogame on the television he kept in here, but he clearly saw her. Because the moment she realized he was in here, he asked, "What are you doing?"
"Um… nothing," she lied, not knowing what she should say.
"Do you need something?"
"No," she said tiptoeing in the room further.
He looked over at her. Even from this distance, in his estimation, she looked guilty. She stood there, naked except for a pair of underwear. But written all over her features was fear that he only ever saw when she was worried she was going to be caught for doing something.
Instantly he understood that she was hiding from Cuddy. Whatever she'd done, she had earned her mother's disapproval, and she was avoiding being punished, he figured.
Part of House knew that at that moment, he should have been calling out for Cuddy. She would have obviously been looking for her daughter by then. If Rachel were trying to hide and the quiet manner in which she'd shut the door suggested that she was, then clearly that was because Cuddy was looking for her. And he guessed, although he hadn't read it recently, that it was in the boyfriend handbook that he should have let Cuddy know her daughter was here.
But that wasn't what he did.
Obviously Cuddy would find her kid eventually. It wasn't like Rachel had run away, and his knowledge would help bring her back alive. They were in the safety of their own home, and Cuddy would inevitably discover that Rachel was in here – either because she thought Rachel might hide in here or because she would come ask for his help.
In other words, the matter would resolve itself.
… And really, House didn't feel like getting involved. Maybe he would have under other circumstances, but the ice world was the hardest to get through in New Super Mario Bros. Wii, and he'd died so many times already that he was on his last penguin suit as it was. He guessed he could have paused, but given his luck, when he finally got to play again, he'd forget where he was, and a floating penguin would kill him. And if he could avoid the indignity of another continue, he was going to do that.
Still he reached over and patted the bit of couch next to him. "Sit down."
She did though she seemed wary of the offer.
"Take the blanket," he said gesturing with his head to the throw that was on the back of the loveseat. "Cover yourself up. You'll be cold otherwise."
It also would make hanging out with her a little less awkward for him. Somehow her being naked just made the whole thing seem creepy when he knew that it wasn't.
When she'd draped the throw over her shoulders, she asked, "Can I play?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I already started my game. And you need to get ready to go to the party."
"You need to get ready to go to the party," she said like a brat.
He gestured towards the freshly pressed pants and shirt he was wearing. His jacket had been carelessly tossed onto his desk chair, but it was nearby. "I am ready."
"Oh."
"Go find your Mommy and have her get you ready."
"No!" It was clear she definitely didn't want to do that. "I wanna play the game."
"Too bad."
When she tried to grab at the controller, he was quick and moved out of the way. But the damage was already done. The jump his Mario had been trying to make fell short. And his penguined plumber fell into the gap. House tried to get Mario to hit one of the cliff walls so that he could jump back up and stay alive.
But that didn't work.
And Mario died.
"You killed me!" House accused. The dreaded continue screen popped up on the screen.
But that didn't seem to have any effect on Rachel. If anything she seemed happy for the opportunity his death – well, his character's death – had given her.
"Now I can play too," she said with a grin.
"I don't think so."
"Because you are supposed to be getting dressed," Cuddy answered for them both.
Instantly House and Rachel looked in the direction the voice was coming from. Cuddy… did not appear happy at all. In fact she seemed downright angry. A finger pointing to a spot on the floor right front of her, she said, "Get your bottom over here right now, or you'll be in time out until we leave."
Rachel hesitated.
"Now, Rachel."
She frowned but stood up. Still, she didn't head towards her mother. "I don't want to wear the tights," she confessed sadly.
"I don't care. You are wearing them."
Rachel hung her head and slowly made her way back to Cuddy, who had in the few passing seconds decided to turn her irritation on House.
"And you need a tie."
That caught him by surprise. "Seriously?"
"Yes."
"It's dinner at someone's house."
"Yeah, your boss's home," she snapped. "Pick out a tie or I will."
Still it seemed odd to him. "Did I have to wear a tie at his rehearsal dinner? I thought that was business casual."
Her response was simple. "Different wife."
"Which number are we on?"
"Four? Five? Who cares?" she guessed, grabbing hold of Rachel as she tried to slip through the doorway unnoticed.
"We have to wear suits and ties for a wife with a six month expiration date?"
"She's also wife number one. They got remarried. So… yes."
"But –"
"House, I really don't have time to deal with this. Just put on a damn tie."
His point still stood: it seemed like a lot of work to please someone who he would probably never, ever see again. Rationally he understood that he didn't have a choice. This was his boss – and Cuddy's for that matter. And they were going to be surrounded by people far more important than a department head with tenure. He had no problem offending or embarrassing in general, but in this case, he was the lowest on the food chain… which admittedly never really mattered all that much to him. But Cuddy was in a predicament as it was, what with employees selling drugs and the D.E.A. investigating; he couldn't afford to make the situation worse for her. So he would do his best to behave himself.
"Fine," he agreed, making faces at her as she walked away. He would behave, but he wasn't above mocking her in their own home. He guessed though she wouldn't care as long as he played nicely publicly.
And he would do that. But getting all dressed up, being nice to the people he didn't care about at all, wasn't exactly how he wanted to spend his evening.
All of that went out the window though the second he saw Cuddy once she was dressed and ready to go.
She looked hot.
A voice inside his head whispered that he probably should have figured that out on his own, that if he had to look nice, then she would really go out of her way to look as gorgeous as she could.
Well, he thought as he took in the sight of her in a tight, blue dress rendered in overlapping sheer fabric, she had more than succeeded in that department. She was meant to be looked at in that dress with that body. The material lying across her clavicle was nearly see through, and every inch of bright blue chiffon or silk or whatever the hell it was clung to her body perfectly. Simultaneously leaving everything and nothing to the imagination, it was guaranteed to make her the center of attention.
Admittedly given the investigation the hospital was going to be under, she was going to be the center of attention either way. But dressed like that, she was going to have many of the boards' minds on things other than work.
When he went to zip her up, his fingers paused on the zipper. "You sure you want this up?"
She smiled but said, "We have to go."
"Okay," he said helping her with this finishing touch. "But I wouldn't be surprised if you get a dozen offers for a threesome tonight. Which is fine… as long as the offer comes from a really attractive woman."
Turning to him, she said knowingly, "You like it." It was probably intended to be a question, but there was absolutely nothing about the sentence that seemed like a question.
"I do" was his enthusiastic reply. "You look stunning."
She leaned into him then. Her lips nearly on his mouth, she whispered, "Then you should see what I'm wearing under it."
He pulled back so he could assess what possible undergarments she might have been wearing. In his opinion, she couldn't have had anything on under a dress that tonight. Shaking his head, he said, "You're not wearing anything under that."
She smirked. "Believe me, I am."
"Prove it."
"Not now," she said shaking her head and straightening his tie. "We have a party to go to."
He frowned in disappointment. "So you're just telling me that to drive me insane."
"Of course."
He slapped her ass as she walked away from him. "You're a tease," he accused.
Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled at him. "I'm not teasing you."
But that was exactly what she was doing. Admittedly he was ready to bone her when she was sick in bed in her pajamas. There really weren't any circumstances when his desire to fuck her was absent, so in a way, she was always a tease to him.
When she looked like that though?
It took all of his willpower to pretend like he wasn't desperate to have sex with her right then and there. Rachel, of course, made that easier by being in such a foul mood over the whole thing.
It was clear that she didn't want to go. She hadn't said anything to his knowledge as to why she would rather stay home, but it was obvious that the last place she wanted to be was with them at this party.
He could understand that, because he really didn't want to go either. He had said he would, though he hadn't wanted to go. But now he definitely would have preferred to stay home. Maybe the weekend had just made him wary, but somehow he felt as though only bad things could result from them going to this party. He would say something wrong or Cuddy wouldn't right things at work, and then the relative amount of bliss they'd achieved during the rest of the afternoon would be gone. So he understood how Rachel felt. He wanted to stay home too.
But Rachel was taking this thing to a whole other level. She whined when Cuddy put her coat on. She whined when they got in the car. She whined in the car on the drive to the Sanford Wells' mansion. She whined when they pulled into the long and winding driveway and when they started to make the long trek to the house. She whined and whined and whined and whined until they were at the front door and Cuddy had had enough.
Crouching down so that she could look Rachel in the eye, Cuddy told her, "That's enough, Rachel."
"I wanna go home."
"I don't care."
"But –"
"No," Cuddy said sternly. "That's enough. We have listened to you complain the entire time, and it's not going to work. You are here. You're going to be a nice little girl and play with your friends. You're going to eat your dinner like a good girl when it's served to you, and you are not going to complain about any of it. You're going to be polite. Do you understand me?"
"But –"
"Uh uh." Cuddy shook her head. "That's it. If I hear any more complaints for you, I'll put you in time out here, and everyone will know how naughty you're being."
Rachel shifted on her feet uncomfortably. She definitely didn't want that, which was what Cuddy had been planning on. Nothing worked quite like shame; her own mother had taught her that. At the time, Cuddy had hated Arlene for it, but now she understood: embarrassment was a powerful motivator.
"Is that what you want?" Cuddy asked, knowing that the answer would be no. "Do you want people to think you're being bad?"
Rachel enthusiastically shook her head no.
"Then stop complaining. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"All right." Cuddy hesitated for a moment before saying calmly, "You'll have fun. You don't need to worry about that."
Standing back up, Cuddy prepared herself for the evening she was about to have. Rachel surely wouldn't be a problem now. The second she saw her friends, she wouldn't be any trouble. But that just left everything else as a possible source of conflict.
House must have noticed her reluctance, because he looked for her to give him some sort of sign that it was a good time to ring the doorbell. That took her a few moments, to muster up the courage necessary to start this whole process. But when she did, she nodded her head.
Seconds later when a butler opened the door, Cuddy was reminded why she had always thought this particular marriage was doomed to fail. Sanford Wells, for all of his wealth and power, was a fairly down to earth guy. He liked Buffalo wings and basketball games; he liked living in a fairly suburban neighborhood, though it was definitely an upper class neighborhood. He did not particularly appreciate or care for the finer things in life, and rumor had it around the hospital that, in fact, he had never been a successful heart surgeon; he was simply frugal and had managed to amass wealth by never spending it.
Cuddy knew that that was definitely not the case. He had money. But as event staff took their coats and her purse, she remembered that Wells was rarely interested in showing off.
In contrast, the first Mrs. Wells, now also the fourth or fifth, depending on whose count you believed, needed her riches to be on display. She was not a tacky woman by nature; if anything, Cuddy had always found her to be a woman of refined taste, an intelligent, successful board member in her own right. But this woman clearly had no qualms about turning a holiday party into an extravagant affair. Everything about their home and this party spoke to how interested she was in making everyone else appreciate their wealth.
Yet Cuddy was polite the second she spotted their hosts.
"Dr. Cuddy," Wells called out to her, approaching her with a frosty wife on his arm.
"It's nice to see you," Cuddy said to him, as he leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. "How are you, Arianne?"
"I'm fine," she said with a tight-lipped smile. It was the kind of expression you made when you felt as though your present company were painfully awful. Cuddy knew this, because she was sure her own face held the same expression. "And yourself?"
"Good," Cuddy said in an equally false conversational tone. The two women had never been friends or even liked each other very much; this was as nice as their conversations got.
Wanting to distract from that, she said, "I'm sure you're familiar with my partner, Greg House." House didn't say anything, because his gaze was on a woman ten feet away from him who had large breasts. Cuddy forced herself to ignore that, although she violently squeezed the hand of his that she was holding. "And this is my daughter, Rachel."
Rachel waved shyly but didn't speak. Cuddy hadn't expected her to though. Although Rachel wasn't a quiet child – or a shy one – she was not the precocious life of the party. She preferred to be ignored at evens like this, because really, in all honesty, what she wanted was to be home in her pajamas watching a movie.
Frankly Cuddy understood the impulse.
"Yes, hello, Dr. House," Sanford Wells said, forcing House's attentions away from the other breasts in the room. House also did not speak though. He simply inclined his head in respect. "I hope you don't mind, but I do need to speak to your boss for a little bit."
House shrugged. "I don't mind that at all."
"Wonderful. It won't take but a moment." Wells said this as much to House and Cuddy as he did to his wife, who seemed agitated at the very idea of her husband spending any time with Cuddy.
Which… was understandable, given the history there.
But Cuddy preferred not to think about that. Rumors of that relationship had already tainted enough in her life.
"I understand," she said, having anticipated this moment the entire time.
"You have some things to discuss," Arianne said, as though she were deducing the reason behind this private conversation that needed to take place.
"It's business, dear."
"Of course. In that case, Dr. House, I assume you're a whiskey drinker." From the look on his face, Cuddy knew he wanted to tell Arianne that at this moment, he was a bleach drinker if that was going to make this party a little less unbearable. But he simply nodded his head in her direction. "I have a bottle of Glenfarclas, 50 years old, from 1955. Have you heard of it?"
She didn't give him a chance to answer the question before she looped an arm through the arm Cuddy herself wasn't holding on to. "Come. I'll let you have a glass. I wish to know how it tastes, and unfortunately, my health doesn't permit me to do so at the moment…."
Cuddy let her take him, though she had no doubt that that conversation wasn't going to end well for her own relationship with House. Nothing Arianne could tell House was going to be good. But for the time being, Cuddy couldn't worry about that now.
"You know, Rachel," Wells said to her daughter who was practically clinging to her hand. "I think you have some friends here. They're playing games in that room right over there," he said, pointing to a room down one of the long hallways. "Why don't you go see what they are up to?"
Rachel looked to her for reassurance. Cuddy did her best given the circumstances. A hand smoothing Rachel's hair back, she said, "Go on, honey. I'll come find you in a little bit, all right?"
To say Rachel looked unenthusiastic was an understatement. But she must have known that she had no other choice, because without much hesitation, she started to trudge her way through the other partygoers down the hallway.
Finally alone with Sanford he gestured to a hallway that started on the right side of the room. "Shall we?"
Cuddy nodded her head. "Of course. I was expecting this conversation."
He smiled genially as he guided her down the hall to his office. The second he opened the door, she was not prepared for John Kelley to be standing there.
"Lisa," John said, almost silently imploring her to remain calm.
Instantly Cuddy regretted both coming here and letting House go. She had no interest in being alone with John, no desire to be with the man who had kissed her earlier today without any regard for what she wanted. She didn't want to talk to him, though she had created this charade with him.
In the back of her mind, a betraying voice whispered how she had ensured that this scenario would happen. She had asked for John's help. She had, as House had pointed out, kept the check – which would only make John think that perhaps he still had a chance with her. And now John was here.
"Hi," she said breathlessly feeling as though the wind had been knocked out of her.
Closing the door behind them, Sanford said, "I'm sure you two know each other very well."
"Yes, of course," Cuddy answered, forcing herself to remain calm. She could not let John think that he had gotten to her. Though he had obviously upset her, the last thing she could let happen was for this to become a professional problem. "How could I forget the face of our best donor," she said with a smile that felt as forced as it got. "I didn't realize you were going to be here."
She tried to make the comment sound as though it were merely an interested one. It could have been an accusation, and in a way it was, but that was not what she wanted her boss to hear.
"Well," John replied calmly. "I was watching the news, and I saw a story about Princeton Plainsboro. Naturally I wanted to make sure that there wasn't a problem with the investments we've made recently."
Cuddy shook her head a little. "Problem?" She didn't understand.
"Mr. Kelley here –"
"John," John corrected.
"Of course," Sanford Wells said apologetically. "John is aware that the D.E.A. has decided to investigate our hospital."
"I wasn't aware the press had gotten wind of this."
"Apparently they have. I think it's safe to assume that we're going to receive some blowback for this from our investors," Sanford told them both. "In fact when John showed up here, I was concerned that he wanted to withdraw the funds he has given us for the year."
"I won't lie," John admitted. "My uncle isn't going to be pleased about this, and our support will probably be lax for the next month or two. But I was telling Sandy here that there should be no problem with the donation I made to you guys a couple days ago."
Suddenly feeling like she was on the page as the other men in the room, Cuddy nodded her head in understanding. This was, after all, a lie she had created. It wasn't hard to know where to pick up from there.
"I'm glad to hear that," she said. As soon as she did that though, she couldn't help but think that there was some sort of odd subtext to the whole thing. No, she had never believed that there would be any sort of problem cashing the check. After what John had done, it was obvious that he would be stuck allowing the money to go through. Unless he wanted to be slapped with a sexual harassment suit, he really had no other option other than to pretend as though he was on good terms with Cuddy.
Yet at the same time, she had feared that he would create some sort of problem with the check. Outwardly he had every right to withdraw his company's financial support. And part of her had worried that he might do that just to spite her. But here he was saying that he had no problem giving the hospital the money, and she couldn't help but think that his supposed reluctance had had nothing to do with the imbroglio they were in currently.
"I would hate," he explained, just furthering that feeling inside her. "To think that a few poor choices by a couple misguided employees would ruin all the good work you all do. And I'm happy to help in any way I can."
"That's wonderful," Cuddy said, not knowing whether or not she meant it at this point. "I'd planned on calling you Monday," she lied. "To tell you what the hospital is about to experience. I apologize for not being the one to warn you."
Wells was the one to accept the apology. "I'm glad things worked out this time, Lisa." The use of her name caught her attention. "You've obviously been of great service to the hospital. But if we hadn't received John's assurances of a large donation, I'm not sure I would have been able to protect you from the rest of the board. I am glad that's not in my future, thanks to John."
Taken at face value, his words hurt. It was clear from what he was saying that, no matter how much she had done for the hospital, she would have had a hard time convincing anyone of keeping her if she didn't have that check to hand over. He was saying John was the reason that difficult conversation wouldn't take place.
Admittedly that wasn't exactly something she didn't know. After all, hadn't that been why she had gone to him in the first place? She knew it had been, but hearing it nevertheless hurt.
Especially since she knew Sanford Wells well enough to understand that his comments weren't meant to solely be taken superficially. There was an undercurrent there, a silent order that, if the board had to choose between her or John's contributions, they would not side with her. He would encourage them to choose her, but the money would win out in the end, so she'd better maintain that relationship.
Sure, that sounded like an almost insane amount of subtext, and someone might argue that she was reading into his words far more than she needed to. But she had worked with and known Wells long enough to understand when he was getting at something. He was a man of few words, and he always made sure to make the sentences he did utter as potent as possible.
She was not imagining things.
A forced smile on her face, she said sweetly, "Believe me, I know he's my knight in shining armor. I'm very lucky to have had –"
"Don't be modest, Lisa," John interrupted. To Wells, he explained, "She's spent a lot of time keeping me happy. The least I can do in return is ensure that the hospital will remain under her expert guidance."
At that Sanford Wells smiled. "I'm glad to hear that, and I'm thrilled for all of us, most especially the hospital, that this situation is at least in part on its way to resolving itself." He made a big show of glancing down at his watch. "I'm sorry to cut this conversation short, but I just know that if I skip out on my own party for any longer my wife will be cross with me. Excuse me."
There was no expectation that she or John would follow after him. And though it probably would have been smart for her to do just that, she stayed behind. House had said she wouldn't let herself be alone with John, that she wouldn't give him another chance to pull anything. In the back of her mind, she knew she was proving her boyfriend wrong. But this was too important to let go. If John had something to her boss of all people, she knew she needed to put a stop to that.
"What did you tell him?" she asked when she was sure Wells wasn't within hearing distance.
John held up a hand as if to tell her to calm down. "You wanted to make it seem like I hadn't written the check just to get you out of this jam –"
"That's not the way I would like to put it," she said simply.
He nodded his head in understanding. "I thought if I came here, made it seem like I was worried about the money going through and your scandal –"
"How did you find out about that?" she asked. She had told him she wanted the money; she had not told him why.
"It is on the news now, Lisa."
"Oh."
"I thought it would all be more believable if I acted worried," he explained. "I'm not, by the way. I have complete faith in you."
The fact that he clearly meant it didn't make it any better. Hours ago, he had completely abused her trust, and the sting of that betrayal hadn't gone away. He might have had faith in her, but what did his faith mean to her?
"So you thought that you'd also take this time to tell him that we're not getting along," she accused.
"I didn't tell him anything about that," he said honestly.
"Right." She didn't believe him. "He just –"
"Noticed how unhappy you were to see me," John suggested. "I didn't say to him that we'd had a fight. That's not exactly a moment I'm proud of, and he seems to care about you an awful lot."
She nodded her head. "He does."
"Why would I tell him that I kissed you?" After a brief pause, he added, "How could I when you didn't want him to know that you came to my house today?"
That was a good point, but it didn't matter to her. "Forgive me," she said sarcastically. "If I question your ability to think logically after what you did."
He looked hurt, though she didn't feel sorry for what she said. "Are you ever going to forgive me for that?" he asked quietly.
"You haven't even apologized," Cuddy snapped.
"You're right," he admitted after a moment. "I haven't." He sighed. "Look, Lisa, I want you, and I'm not gonna apologize for that. But… I shouldn't have kissed you. That wasn't right of me."
"No, it wasn't." Maybe she shouldn't have been making this more difficult for him, but she didn't care. She was in no mood to make things easier for him. After all, he hadn't been considerate of her needs. He hadn't thought of her feelings when he'd kissed her. She didn't think he deserved any more than he had given her.
"It was hasty of me… and I didn't think about how you might react to it, cause I wasn't really thinking. I just wanted you. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
"No, it won't," she agreed firmly, unsympathetically. He seemed dismayed that nothing he had said had made her warm up to him. "If you say you're sorry, then fine." She shrugged. "I guess I can believe that. But what you did isn't something I'm going to move past just like that. You kissed me. You've been investigating my boyfriend, spying on him. That wasn't a sudden choice. You didn't just decide to do that," she said knowingly. He might have wanted her to believe that it had been a hasty decision, but it was anything but that. His actions had proven as much.
"I shouldn't have done that," he told her, sounding as earnest as she thought he could possibly sound. "I just wanted to know that he was going to treat you right. I didn't want you to be with someone who –"
"That's not your responsibility. And ultimately none of your business."
"I know." He looked down then away.
"I'm happy," she declared. "Regardless of your feelings for him, he makes me happy."
"Does he?"
The question was honest. That was the part that bothered her. It would have been easy to disregard it if he were asking out of anger or jealousy, if he were trying to manipulate her. But there was no malice behind the words, making it impossible for her to resort to anger. Perhaps she should have gotten irate with him. But if anything, the question made her sad, that he would assume she would stay in an unhappy relationship. He thought that little of her.
"Of course he does," she said in softer tones.
"Because it seems to me that a guy like that must come with a lot of baggage. And even if you love him, that can't make it easy all the time."
She shrugged. "Everyone has problems. We –"
"I just can't imagine that all that work is worth it," he said casually. "But…." He sighed, obviously resigned to the truth of the situation. "That's not my call to make, and I shouldn't have tried to force you to… I don't know, want me."
"Thank you."
"But you're still mad at me," he deduced.
She shot him a conciliatory look. "It's not that simple."
"It never is."
"I need time," she explained. "I need to know that I can trust you again. That's not going to happen with one apology."
He nodded his head. "Okay."
She repeated herself, feeling as though the point were worth making again. "I need time… and John, if House sees you here, we both know what will happen."
"I wouldn't hit him."
"You would." He seemed hesitant to believe the idea, but she knew that was exactly what would happen. "He'll guarantee that that happens, and if you hurt him, there's nothing you can say, because I will protect him."
John clearly didn't like that. "So he'll piss me off so much that I hit him, and that'll be my fault." He laughed then, but there was little humor in the sound. "You must really love him to put up with him."
"I do."
"I'll leave," he said decisively. "I just hope he's worth all the trouble for you, Lisa."
Her instinct was to assert that House absolutely was. Most of the time she thought that was true, but today she had trouble opening her mouth and speaking those words. As much as she loved him, this weekend had proven that they were… at times so far from domestic bliss that that goal didn't even seem remotely attainable.
And the thing of it was… they had worked through so much already. They had compromised and fought for this relationship with everything they had, all in the hopes that they would eventually get to some magical other side where things were automatically better. But all this time later, it seemed as though they were no closer to attaining that.
Part of her felt that they just had to work a little more at it. They just had to try; he had to get along better with Rachel, and Cuddy had to let him in their lives a little more. She had to be willing to share responsibility for Rachel with him. They just had a little more work to do before things could truly be perfect.
But then there was another part of her that wondered if that was how good relationships lasted or if theirs was simply one that would always be difficult.
She would never say that to John though.
And then Cuddy couldn't defend her relationship even if she wanted.
Because finally John had left.
To be continued