** Hello readers!! So, I've managed to do 2 updates within a 1 week period, and I've indeed held to my personal mission of staying at least a chapter ahead of what I'm posting. I promise we're getting to the baby-making in the next couple of chapters... still haven't decided one way or the other about smut, I think I'm just going to see how my muse directs me once I get there :-) As always, thanks for reading, and I'd love beaucoup de reviews, s'il vous plait!! :-D
**Flashback continued**
Cuddy hastily made her way to the secure locked cabinet in the reception area that contained all of the controlled, injectable substances like propofol that were rarely used in day to day clinic cases. Because of the fact that she didn't have use for them very often, it took checking a couple of drawers before she finally came across what she was looking for. Taking the necessary vile, Cuddy slowly approached the outer doors to her own office.
To look at Cuddy's calm, cool, and collected façade, no one would have been the wiser to her nervousness. Gunshots had not been heard thus far, but that didn't necessarily guarantee that all of the hostages were still in a healthy and safe state. Not knowing quite what to expect, she firmly knocked on the door. Almost immediately, House's voice could be heard on the other side of the door.
"Who is it?" he asked unnecessarily as he came into the entranceway and made his way to the outer door. At the mere sight of him, a wave of relief washed over Cuddy's whole body. House was attempting a cavalier expression of bravery, but Cuddy could easily read between the lines of his furrowed brow. They told her two things; he was actually worried, yet intrigued at the same time. It didn't take Cuddy long to look past House into her office, and when she finally did, a horrific sight met her eyes. She saw one of her nurses, Regina, standing in the open crack of the door, the cold steel of a gun barrel resting against her temple.
"Oh God, House…" she began shakily, her voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe we should wait for the…"
"…guys with the even bigger guns?" House finished her sentence, averting his gaze as he spoke so that he wouldn't have to look into her eyes. Raging gunmen he could do; beautifully worried-looking Cuddy's doe eyes, he could not.
"Who know how to talk to armed…" she rashly pressed, but this time she was cut short by the gunman.
"Say goodbye or I shoot her!" the man said angrily, deliberately jamming the gun into the nurse's temple to further illustrate his point.
House hastily grabbed the propofol out of Cuddy's hand, trying his hardest to ignore the tiny flip that his stomach did when his hand brushed against hers. In that second, their eyes locked in a brief, but significant glance. House took that brief second to wish that he hadn't wasted the numerous opportunities he'd been given in the last couple of weeks to come clean with Cuddy about his feelings. Cuddy turned to walk back to the lobby, wishing equally as hard as House that she hadn't insisted on spending the last few weeks playing such a die-hard game of hard-to-get.
The next few minutes unfolded far too eventfully for House and rest of the hostages being held in Cuddy's office. Still distrusting House, the patient-turned-assailant insisted that the medication brought in to treat him be tested on one of the other patients before he would agree to be injected with it. True to form, House diagnosed all of the hostage clinic patients at a glance, finally coming to a heavy-set man complaining of migraines to whom the propofol wouldn't pose any kind of a serious health risk.
When the propofol quickly rendered its actual intended use and knocked the man out cold, the enraged gunman didn't waste any time in retaliating and shot the cowardly businessman who had tried to talk his way out of the office only minutes beforehand. The sickly patient immediately informed Princeton-Plainsboro's most brilliant diagnostician that he was not to be screwed with, and House's intuition told him that someone might indeed end up dead if he pulled another stunt like the propofol.
In the moments that followed, the nurse turned her attention to monitoring the condition of the migraine patient who was still unconscious from the slumbering effects of the propofol, while Thirteen concentrated on treating the gunshot victim with the limited resources available in the first aid kit that Cuddy kept on hand in her office. All the while, the phone continued to ring, and House couldn't help but wonder as the assailant alternately ignored the phone and slammed its receiver back down into the cradle whether it was Cuddy or a member of the S.W.A.T. team who would inevitably be attempting to establish communication.
Cuddy impatiently tapped the pen she was holding on the reception desk as she tried calling her office for what seemed like the millionth time in the last few minutes since they had heard a gunshot. She closed her eyes as she said yet another silent prayer that House had not been the recipient of the bullet but then almost instantly felt guilty. In wishing that House wasn't shot, she almost felt like she was wishing that Thirteen, her nurse or one of the patients had been shot. The mental tug of war was getting to be more than she could take.
Just as she was pressing the redial button yet again, several members of the Princeton police department and S.W.A.T. team stepped swiftly and purposefully into the lobby. The man Cuddy assumed to be the commanding officer on the scene quickly approached her.
"Lieutenant Beauman, Princeton S.W.A.T." the man introduced himself calmly and professionally.
"Dr. Lisa Cuddy, Dean of Medicine," she responded in kind. "We just heard gunshots but we haven't been able to make contact," Cuddy explained hurriedly.
"We'll handle that," Lt. Beauman assured Cuddy, snapping his fingers to indicate to the other S.W.A.T. team members in which direction they should head. "Once we secure our perimeters and set up our positions."
"By perimeters I assume you mean snipers… we have to put an end to this," Cuddy stated firmly as Lt. Beauman escorted her out of the way of the passing S.W.A.T. team.
"You got a husband in there or a loved one?" the Lieutenant asked, his years of experience in negotiations causing him to sense that Dr. Cuddy had something deeper than mere professional concern for the goings-on in her office.
"No…" she answered almost too quickly, making her best effort at feigning annoyed nonchalance. "No" was an easy answer for the husband part of the question, but loved one? If the time was there, Cuddy could have taken all day explaining her real answer to that part of the question.
"Don't worry, we'll decide when to start shooting," Lt. Beauman asserted confidently.
Cuddy could tell that the officer's demeanor that he knew exactly what he was doing, but it didn't deter the worry eating away at her insides, for patients, employees and possible… loved ones… alike.