** Hello, readers!! Two updates within a one week period, can you believe it?! Neither can I... nor can I believe I've held to my "one chapter ahead" rule for 3 chapters in a row! So, Chapter 21 is in the bag, as well, and as far as I know, Chapter 22 will conclude the flashback sequence and bring us back to "present day." Quick episode comment... Lucas, the 2 Minute Man... Oh. My. God. Hardest I have laughed in FOREVER!! Loved "5-9," loved that we had some Huddy back... I think Lucas's days are numbered!!! I would welcome anyone's comments about the episode (as well as the story, obviously!) in reviews. As always, thanks for reading and reviewing, love all you guys :-D
**Flashback Continued**
After Lieutenant Beauman's first attempt at establishing phone contact into the office was disrupted by the gunman's discovery of snipers outside the windows, House had the good fortune to notice a new symptom in his patient during the ordeal. Realizing that the man had recently acquired hearing abilities akin to those of a Golden Retriever, House and Thirteen went back to the proverbial symptom drawing board of Cuddy's wall and continued to assess the role of the new symptom among the existing ones. They didn't have long to discuss them before the phone began to ring yet again.
"Jason, don't hang up the phone again," the Lieutenant cautioned immediately as the patient answered and switched the phone onto speaker.
"You're gonna send in…" the patient began slowly, looking to House to fill in the name of the necessary medication.
"Capsaicin. 200 micrograms," House finished for him firmly.
"And 2 syringes this time," the gunman, now known to be named Jason, added.
"And we'll give you his blood sample and his records," Thirteen piped in.
"No more meds, Jason, and no more deliveries without something in return. You've got to give us a hostage," Beauman declared resolutely.
Jason sighed, finally answering nearly out of breath, "You can have two."
"Great. Then I'll send an officer right in with the transfer…" the Lieutenant began, but the assailant quickly interrupted.
"Everything gets brought in by Dr. Cuddy!" he urged angrily. Had the patient bothered to glance in the direction of his doctor at that moment, he would have seen a definite flash of worry cross the diagnostician's craggy features.
"Jason, I'm not going to let her do that," Beauman responded with almost an irritating measure of calm. At this, House made a grandiose gesture of rolling his eyes and groaning before launching into his own little speech at the officer.
"First, don't use his name so much. It doesn't sound reassuring, it just sounds creepy. And second, come on…he's not going to shoot the one person he trusts to bring in his medication. He's gonna shoot hostages if she doesn't bring it in!" House finished emphatically.
"I'll get back to you," the Lieutenant said curtly as he hung up the phone and quickly turned to Cuddy. "He's demanding that you do all the transfers."
Cuddy didn't even blink. "Ok," she replied automatically, walking past Beauman in a haze.
"Ok?" he repeated, a hint of sarcastic surprise in his voice.
"What am I supposed to say?" she asked, clearly annoyed by Beauman's attitude.
"No, it's not your job," he answered seriously. Cuddy responded by rolling her eyes and sighing, momentarily slipping from her usual professional demeanor and into the impatient instincts of an adolescent. "If you have a conflict of interests, I can't trust you," Beauman added in a somewhat condescending manner.
"Got it. I'm fine," Cuddy stated firmly with her best fake smile, having recovered her confident administrative resolve.
Within the next five minutes, Cuddy found herself pushing a wheelchair across the lobby, retracing her steps across the familiar path that lead to her office. Alone.
House had gone to stand in the area between the inner and outer doors of Cuddy's office to wait for her, relieved to have an excuse for a few minutes to himself to regroup. No one either in the office or on the other end of the phone would have been the wiser, but the great Greg House, deep down, was actually scared; scared for all of the clinic patients who had been taken hostage, scared for Thirteen and the nurse, Regina, and as much as he hated to admit it, even internally, yes, scared for himself. More than any of those fears, though, was the one for which he felt the most pathetic. House was terrified for Cuddy.
Standing there, in this limbo zone between life and death, he realized that when he cut through all the bullshit and got down to his real feelings, he really cared about Cuddy. Maybe even… loved her. It nearly killed his ego to admit it, especially after all of the hinting, meddling, and blatant discussion he had suffered at the hands and mouth of Wilson ever since boss and employee had engaged in a brief yet passionate make-out session in her entranceway after the adoption of Joy had fallen through a few weeks before.
Upon this realization, House felt an unusual sense of primal chivalry overtake his usual instinct to preserve self above all. He had not wanted Cuddy to be the one to bring the propofol into the office the first time; and when the unstable patient had angrily insisted that she make the second delivery, as well, House had wanted nothing more than to punch the guy's lights out. He knew he had to keep his emotions in check, though, if only on the surface. He indeed felt an allegiance to ensuring Cuddy's safety, but not to the extent that it would be at the expense of everyone else in that office if he lost his cool.
But if things were to turn ugly once Cuddy physically became part of the situation, House knew there would be no hesitation on his part. If it came down to it, he would put Cuddy before himself. If it came down to it, he would stare down the barrel of that maniac's gun and accept the consequences if it meant keeping her safe.
As this flood of thoughts ran rampantly through his overworked mind, House finally saw Cuddy's form appear as she walked across the lobby and through the doors of the clinic, pushing a wheelchair, in what almost seemed like slow motion. His heart jumped a little bit more in his chest as their eyes immediately locked, neither one being able to help themselves once they were close enough.
On Cuddy's end of things, her breath nearly caught in her throat when her eyes met House's. Internally, her administrative need to control an uncontrollable situation, her personal desire to protect House, and fear for herself fought an intense three-way dual. Before she had much time to allow the battle to resolve itself, Cuddy was already making her way through the outer doors to her office. House kept his eyes locked with her as he gently tapped the inner doors, signaling Thirteen and the nurse to bring the business guy with the bullet wound and the guy that had been knocked unconscious by the propofol out into the entryway, along with the gunman's blood sample and records.
While Thirteen and the nurse helped the gunshot victim into the wheelchair, House handed off the blood and the files to Cuddy. Their eyes met again for a brief second, and House did his best to put on a brave face for her benefit, one that he hoped told her that she shouldn't worry. But with everything that had transpired between them in the last couple of weeks, it was all Cuddy could do to restrain herself from pulling him into her arms in that very moment and just bearing her soul. She held back, though, as the situation required, and turned to push the wheelchair back toward the lobby and help the recently conscious propofol casualty to walk as best she could.
As House watched Cuddy walk away, he couldn't help but wish he'd handled the last three weeks differently with her. He wasn't necessarily sorry that he'd walked away the night she lost Joy; if he'd allowed things to progress when she was in such a vulnerable state, it wouldn't have ended well for either of them. The next day, on the other hand, could have gone so differently if he could have just grown a pair and come clean about his feelings.