here the new chapter. fasten your seat belt...
** CHAPTER 46 **
House marched into the clinic with his eyes narrowed like those of a feline about to catch his prey. But as he approached her office and got closer, the corners of his mouth curled upward into a reassuring smile. After all, the last thing he wanted to do in that moment was to scare Cuddy's P.A.
As he approached his cubicle, the young man welcomed him with a suspicious look. House sat down on the corner of his desk, rummaged in his jacket's pocket and fished out a cherry lollipop, which he friendly handed over to the guy.
"Warren, hi pal! Do you want a lollipop?"
Warren grimaced and promptly raised two waving hands in front of him.
"No, thanks! Sugar is bad for the teeth!" he answered, almost reciting the good boy line.
"I know that! But sucking lollipops has nothing to do with teeth. It's all about style!"
House grinned widely, leaning over, as he conspicuously sucked his lollipop almost right under the assistant's nose. Then he straightened up and looked at the young man with a genuine liking.
"Think about that Warren! It could get you to score really hot babes, you know," he added, shooting him a playful wink.
"What do you want?" Warren cut him off with a disapproving look.
"Nothing, I just want to chat! Or… maybe, there's just that little thing I need to know."
Warren puffed as if to say, "there we go!" and House coaxed him into cooperating with his famous puppy face. The P.A shook his head but couldn't repress the amused smile that formed on his lips.
That was a strange thing to admit, but as incredible as it seemed, he appreciated Dr. House. He was … what's the word? He couldn't find it, but there was something about him, something that said he wasn't just that cynical guy everyone was complaining about.
Mechanically, House glanced toward Cuddy's office and tried to catch proof of her presence there, behind the closed wooden blinds. Warren followed his gaze and turned his head back to him.
"She left," he said. "For lunch."
House looked at his watch: 1.15pm. He hadn't realized it was that late already. He wasn't even feeling hungry. Suddenly all his remaining doubts dissolved in that simple evidence: He had to be with her. He wouldn't feel appeased and relaxed until he would be there, with her, doing whatever she would allow him to do. No matter how, he just had to go there.
"Warren," House said, and in truth, at that precise moment, he couldn't care less what the young man would think of him, "I want to know Dr. Cuddy's schedule for this afternoon."
There was undeniable urgency in his blunt request, one that even hid a little bit of despair.
Warren studied him for a while, and without thinking twice, opened a drawer from which he retrieved a planner.
"Sure!" he said.
He handed the Dean's notebook over to the diagnostician. House narrowed his eyes and stared at the object suspiciously. Suddenly he felt uneasy, as if Warren's spontaneous cooperation had taken him off guard.
"I just need to-" he said clearing his throat and hopping off of the desk.
Warren waved the planner impatiently and House stared at it dubiously again, but finally decided to seize the chance that was offered to him. He promptly snatched the diary from Warren's hand and walked a few steps away, opening it before the PA could change his mind. Then he fumbled through the pages until he found the right one. There it was. What he needed to know. What she hadn't told him.
Princeton General. 3.30pm.
There was no mention of Dr. Gruber, but he was sure that's when her appointment with him was scheduled. House promptly closed the book and put it back on the desk,
"Thank you, Warren, you've been, um, helpful," he muttered under his breath. He rummaged in his jacket's pocket before laying a lollipop on the desk beside the diary. "Here: Style, hot babes! Think about it!"
And he turned on his heel and disappeared before Warren could add anything. The young man put the notebook back in the drawer and took the lollipop. He twirled it between his fingers, and in an unexpected fit, which even surprised him, put it in his pocket instead of throwing it away in the trashcan like he should have.
# # # # #
The ride to Princeton General was pleasant, and most of all, short. At this hour of the day, traffic was low, and House didn't need to slalom dangerously between cars to make his way there. He parked his bike on a handicap space in the visitor area, which felt strange to him – strange and unfamiliar.
When he walked inside the lobby, he became suddenly really aware of how crowded a hospital could be, swarming with people, striding hurriedly in every direction. That was something he'd never really paid attention to as a doctor, as he was usually mostly busy making his way to his office, where he was sheltered in a safe, quiet place to think about the best way to solve his exciting, medical puzzles.
But there, he was not a doctor, and he was not a patient either. He was just a visitor. An anonymous one. Just a random someone among other random people. He spotted the nurse desk and determinedly limped toward it. The woman who was sitting there was chewing a gum absentmindedly, while leafing through the pages of a woman's magazine. House rested his elbows on the counter and intensely stared at her, thinking that the power of his gaze would be enough to make her acknowledge him. But no. Was it really how it felt? He took a deep breath, trying to repress his annoyance, and coughed. Finally, the nurse raised her face to him.
"Can I help you?" she asked, chewing her gum loudly.
House forced a polite smile.
"Sure, you can!" he exclaimed sarcastically. "I'm looking for Dr. Gruber's consult."
"Dr. Gruber, the gynecologist?" the nurse said cocking an eyebrow, visibly intrigued.
House's smile turned into a crooked smirk.
"Yep, that one! I'm sure you think it's quite an unusual request since I obviously don't have a vagina, but I'm meeting one there … so to speak."
The nurse frowned disapprovingly and pointed at a direction on her right.
"Elevators are at the end of that hallway. Dr. Gruber's consult is on the second floor."
House shot a quick glance at his watch: 3.35pm, it read. He knew doctors usually fell behind schedule with their patients, but he also knew Cuddy would have most probably been on time. He had to hurry, and he really felt the irrepressible need to be with her now.
"Thank you, so much," he said with deliberate obsequiousness, as he started walking away.
"Oh, and I don't want to meddle, but you shouldn't chew gums, you know: It's very bad for the teeth," he added with a crooked smile.
"But-" the nurse exclaimed, taken aback, "they're sugar free!"
"Even worse! They replaced the sugar with sorbitol: chemical laxative."
He shook his head in mock disgust before walking away again, leaving a flabbergasted nurse to ponder what he'd just said.
# # # # #
When House arrived on the second floor, a large board indicated that the Gynecology Department was on the left, which he would have more or less guessed by himself anyway, considering the number of pregnant women who were pushing their protuberant bellies in that same direction. He followed their little procession, even managing to limp past their swaying penguin pace. His heart was racing in his chest as he was getting closer to the consulting room.
How would she react? What if she was mad at him for showing up? What would he do if she were?
After what seemed to him like an endless walk in an endless hallway, House finally arrived in the Gynecology Department. He stopped right before the entrance and rapidly scanned the place. There was a counter on his right, just beside the entry, behind which a young woman – probably the desk clerk or the secretary – was sitting.
Behind her, there were several closed doors, which he assumed were the exam rooms. On the left, facing the counter, he saw several other rooms: Scan rooms, mammography, and then, in a hollow behind the left wall, he spotted the waiting area. He walked past the desk clerk without a glance at her and walked right toward there.
"Sir! Excuse me, sir, can I help you?" the girl behind the counter instantly called after him when he passed by her.
House waved his hand in the air dismissively without turning back.
"No thanks, I'm here to meet someone."
When he arrived in the waiting area, he quickly scanned the place: Chairs, lots of chairs. Women, pregnant women. Lots of pregnant women, some of them sitting with their husbands, staring at the ceiling. A few agitated toddlers, running between the chairs. An old woman shrank in a corner, clinging on to her purse. A teenage girl, nervously chewing her nails. Next to her, her boyfriend maybe, nervously scratching his acne but … no Cuddy in sight.
Damn! He checked his watch: 3.45pm. That probably meant she was in the exam room already. He walked his way back to the entrance desk where the girl welcomed him with a smug smile.
"Yes?" she snapped, raising her chin provokingly. "Do you need information?"
Fair enough, House thought, and he gripped his cane's handle tighter to fight the urge to retort an ironic comment.
"I'm looking for someone. But err, I can't see her, I-"
"What's her name?" the girl asked, cutting him short.
She was so used to those crappy excuses. She didn't want to hear them. Every time it was the same thing: Traffic, a meeting longer than planned, a last-minute phone call. Men were jerks. They had a fun time, got the girl pregnant and then, when responsibilities started to come along, nobody was there anymore. How many of those egoistic idiots, incapable of showing to their woman's first scan on time had she encountered today? Two? Three? Sure, she wasn't the judgmental kind, but was it really that big an effort to make: Be there, on time?
"Cuddy. Lisa Cuddy," House said a little uneasy, leaning over the desk.
The girl checked in her register, browsing through the list of names with the tip of her fingers. She finally spotted it and her finger stopped on a line.
"Lisa Cuddy," she confirmed, pointing at the name on the list. "Oh yes, I remember now! Appointment with Dr. Gruber at 3.30." She raised her face to him and looked at him with a gaze filled with a mix of embarrassment and sympathy. "She called earlier today to cancel her appointment."
"Excuse me?" House said, widening his eyes in disbelief.
"Mrs. Cuddy, she called earlier to cancel," the assistant repeated docilely.
"Fine. Ok." House's features became tense, and his voice turned into a nervous groan, as he processed the news. "When is the new appointment scheduled?"
The girl looked at him, genuinely confused, and instantly, he knew. Before she even answered, he knew what she was going to say.
"I'm sorry sir, there's no new appointment scheduled. She just called to cancel, that's all."
House's fingers unconsciously clutched the desk counter, and he clenched his jaw tightly, feeling the anger irrepressibly grow inside him. Dammit what the hell was she thinking? Is that how she was willing to deal with that thing? Is that how responsible she was?
He turned on his heel and without a word or a thank you, stormed out of the room. Down the hallway. Into the elevator. Down to the ground floor. Through the hospital's lobby. Outside. Toward the parking lot. On his bike. Out. Away.
"Don't do this. Don't play the doctor… here… now." That's what she wanted. That's what she had asked. And he had given her that. "I'm not playing. This is not a game." Fuck! He'd done what she wanted him to do! But she had been reckless! How could she cancel her appointment?
Fifty miles per hour. He was so furious. Right. Left. "Are we having this conversation now? Here?" Her eyes. The fear in her eyes.
Sixty miles per hour. "No, we're not. You're right. We can't have this conversation." He'd done everything that was right, everything he thought was right. Just a man. Just her lover. And she had cheated! That was not part of the deal! "I'm not sick! I don't need a nurse!" He would pretend to forget, but she would take care of herself. And he trusted her to do just that.
Seventy-five miles per hour. Left. Right. Straight ahead. Fast. "I'm sorry. I don't know any other way to do it." No. He couldn't let that happen. That was beyond his strength. He was done pretending.
Filled with rage, House stormed into PPTH's main lobby and strode toward the clinic door and into her office. He barely saw Warren waving his hands to him, trying to stop him. He burst inside the room, with his mouth wide open, ready to yell the first shout but…
Empty.
No jacket hung on the coat stand. No briefcase.
Fine. Great, he thought. Of course, she isn't there. She went home, ashamed of herself, because what she did is stupid. And she knows it is.
"You can understand her. You know she's probably scared." Well, of course she was scared! He perfectly knew her fear. He'd held her fear in his arms.
The road again. Traffic. Cars. Dangerous obstacles House kept skirting carelessly, changing lanes abruptly. And what about him? What about his fear? Had she thought about that? Had she told him all the truth?
"It's probably just a cyst." He was hoping, hoping for that relief. That's why he wanted to be there. With her. Dammit, he'd gone to that fucking hospital, crowded with fat, pregnant women sweating hormones just for her! Why? "House! I never lied to you!" Sure. She'd better have one hell of a good explanation.
Night falling. Darkness spreading. House arrived at her house. Limped to her door. But it was locked. Nobody there. No light inside. Ok. Fine. She was not going to make it easy for him, obviously. Because she would decide. She would decide where to go. And she would come to him. She would, right? He'd given her his key. "Let me show you that I can." Fuck, seriously, the minute she would step inside his apartment, he would … he would…
"If you do love her, then you do what you think is right."
House parked his bike in front of his building and removed his helmet. He scratched his hair and rubbed his face. With his helmet hooked to his arm, he slowly climbed the front stairs to his building, walked to his apartment, and unlocked the door. He turned the light on and took a deep breath. Just calm down, he thought. She's going to come. Just wait.
He entered the living room and put his helmet on the desk. Then he got rid of his leather jacket and hung it in the closet. His leg hurt. He poured himself a glass of bourbon and swallowed two Vicodin with one large gulp of burning liquid. "Let's forget this whole thing." Rubbing his thigh, he walked toward his piano.
Something strange caught his attention on the black, glossy surface. Something that wasn't there before: A piece of paper, hastily torn out from a notepad. "Don't cry, Cuddy. Please, don't cry." His heart skipped a beat when he recognized the handwriting. He came closer and with a trembling hand, grabbed hold of the piece of paper. Something was scotch taped to it:
His key.
I CAN'T DO THIS ... US
I'M SORRY
No. No.
No.
Not that old, excruciating pain again.
It felt as if he couldn't breathe anymore.
It felt as if his leg had been chopped off his body.
It felt as if his heart had been ripped off his chest.
A/N
if you want to know where Cuddy is, why she left, how House is going to react to that, just hang in there! This is not over...
Ok so, I'm officially on vacation for 2 weeks! which is great because even if I haven't planned to go anywhere, I'll just stay at home and rest... I really need that right now. doc says my blood iron level is very low, which is why I feel exhausted, and vacation are definitely welcome... good thing is, with the free time ahead, I hope I'll be able to write more...
~ maya