A/N: Thanks to the usual suspects for keeping me laughing. Thank you to all the fic writers out there who keep House and Cuddy alive and well. Also thanks to Cherokee Jedi for giving this a once-over. I think I an work in weekly updates now that things have settled down!
Anyway, in this chapter, it's Tuesday and you know what that means. House has physio and Nolan. He also has something he hates more than anything...pain. It's been about seven weeks now since House wrote the letter to Cuddy. Just wanted to throw in that frame of reference.
On Tuesday morning House woke early to get ready for his physio session and the drive to Philadelphia to see Nolan. It took him longer than usual to move about because his leg hurt more than usual. The breakthrough pain had started a few days earlier and only gotten worse. House attributed it to a combination of the workouts he put himself through while in Boston, hours long sexcapades with Cuddy, and the cold weather. The long drive home hadn't helped either. Generally the worst pain hit when he did something to aggravate it. The last time he'd experienced a similar bout of pain had been about eight weeks earlier, before he'd sent the letter to Cuddy. Goddamnit, he thought to himself. Just when things were looking up. He'd experienced this same type of pain many times since Mayfield but tried his best to hide the worst because he didn't want those closest to him like Wilson, Cuddy and his team to fear he'd relapse. He sat there, on his bed, rubbing his leg, recalling one of the many times he'd dealt with the pain on his own and just how close he'd come to succumbing to it.
It was a cold, rainy Thursday morning. He'd been out of Mayfield a few months and recently moved into the new condo with Wilson. When he woke up, his leg hurt like hell. Determined not to let it get the best of him, he sucked it up and went to work. Since he had a case, he kept the team as far away as possible by having them run tests. Wilson had taken Sam to New York for a long weekend and he and Cuddy weren't exactly on friendly terms since she was with Lucas, so House spent most of that day alone in his office, sitting in the Eames chair, his leg propped up on the ottoman. As the day progressed, the pain got worse, and so did his attitude.
"She's in liver failure now." Foreman interrupted his thoughts as he entered House's office with the team behind him.
"First her kidneys, now her liver." After a few moments, House had an epiphany. "Run her blood work, test for DIC."
"House, are you alright?" Chase was concerned.
"Am I your patient? No. Now, as to the actual patient, if we don't diagnose her, she's going to die. Go test her goddamn blood."
His team just stared at him.
"I'm fine," he said, slightly calmer. He pointed his cane at them. "It's got to be DIC. Do a complete blood count, PTT, platelet count, PT and Serum fibrinogen. Let me know, I'll be here."
Chase stayed behind after the team left. He approached House carefully. "Listen, if there's anything I can do, let me know. I won't say a word. I know Wilson's not here so if you need someone to talk to..."
"I'm fine. Go run the tests. Make sure they don't kill her."
Chase had shrugged his shoulders and walked out. Meanwhile, House leaned back in his Eames chair, rubbing his right leg vigorously and trying to figure out how to best deal with the pain. He eyed the locked bottom drawer of his desk, where he kept his bottle of scotch. Nolan had told him he shouldn't drink and so he'd kept the bottle locked in the drawer, he just felt better having it there in case he needed it. About an hour later, he got up and grabbed his cane, ready to exit the rear door of his office. He turned towards the entry door to his office as if expecting Wilson to walk in and talk him out of what he was about to do. Realizing he was on his own, he turned and limped out the rear door and climbed painfully over the wall to Wilson's office. He pulled out his keys and used one of them to open the glass door. He walked around to Wilson's desk and rummaged through it, not finding the item he was searching for. He switched to another drawer and found it. He pulled out the prescription pad and a pen and took a deep breath, then just before setting pen to paper he realized the implications of what he was about to do. If he forged Wilson's name, if he took the Vicodin, he could lose everything...his freedom, his sanity and...his best friend, not to mention any respect or feelings Cuddy may still have for him deep down.
"Damnit!" he shouted to the empty office. He had not gone through months of torture only to wind up back in that goddamn hole again. He put the pen and pad back in the drawer where he found them and exited Wilson's office, locking the rear door behind him. He returned to his office just in time to see his fellows enter with smiles on their faces. He limped over to the desk and hurriedly began placing items in his backpack.
"House, you were right. It's DIC. We already started the treatment."
"Good," he said, then he pointed at Foreman. "You...make sure they don't burn the place down and you," he pointed his cane at the rest of the team,"go play in the clinic. Find something constructive to do." He added as an afterthought, "And keep it on the down low, I don't need dragon lady breathing down my neck!"
"Where are you going?" Taub asked suspiciously.
"Home," he replied. He felt tiny beads of sweat on his forehead. The pain was overwhelming and if he didn't get out of there soon he thought he'd pass out.
"Are you alright?" Taub asked again, this time a hint of concern in his voice.
"Are you writing a book?" House asked sarcastically.
"No."
"Good. None of your goddamn business," he said, and then he walked out leaving his puzzled fellows behind.
With his backpack slung over his shoulder, he painfully made his way toward the lobby. He looked towards Cuddy's office and noted her absence. He assumed that she was either in the clinic or at a meeting, which was good for him because she wouldn't give him the third degree about leaving early. He opened the front door of the hospital and exited and as he limped painfully down the long sidewalk to his handicapped parking space, he nearly ran into her.
"House, where are you going?" She asked, staring intently at him.
"Nowhere."
She frowned. "Really? It doesn't look like nowhere to me. You're going home aren't you?"
"No." His leg was beginning to cramp and he didn't want her to see him like this.
She threw her hands up in the air. "Why can't you just make my life easier and do your job?"
"Why do you care?"
"Because this is my hospital, I'm responsible for you."
"All you care about is this damn hospital."
"That's my job."
"Well guess what? I just did my job. I saved another one of your goddamn precious patients and now I'm going home." He turned sharply on his cane, making the pain worse, and limped to his car, hoping like hell he could make it without her suspecting anything. He winced in pain as he got into his car, then after catching his breath, he turned the key in the ignition, put the car in gear and backed out of his handicapped space. As he drove past where Cuddy stood, he could see she was staring at him, a hurt look on her face, as if he'd slapped her. He felt bad about being so short with her, but as soon as he reminded himself she was with Lucas, it made him angry all over again and he stopped caring about her feelings at the moment.
"Fuck her," he said to himself as he pulled away from the hospital and onto the highway.
A few minutes later, House arrived home. He barely made it through the front door before he collapsed after closing it behind him. He didn't even try to move, he just lay partially propped up against the door, rubbing his leg and taking deep breaths to keep from passing out. When he woke up hours later, his neck hurt from the position he'd fallen asleep in, but at least the pain in his leg had subsided, a little. He figured the pain had been about a nine. On most days it was usually a manageable six or seven. With Vicodin it had been even less.
Vicodin.
He had a love-hate relationship with that drug. He loved it because it eased his pain and he hated it because it eased his pain. Despite what people thought, he hated having to rely on the pills to get through every single moment of every day of his life since the infarction. Sure, he'd flaunted it in people's faces, but deep down he felt weak that he couldn't function without it. He'd never told anyone that, except Nolan. He'd fought the battle and won, at least for now. Now he had his health for what it was worth, then there was Wilson, and of course his job. But it had all come at a great cost. He thought about the one thing he really wanted that he couldn't have. He'd gone through hell to be a better man for Cuddy only to find out his best wasn't good enough. With that thought, he sighed heavily and wiped away the tear that had escaped his left eye. Then he let out a loud groan as he pushed himself up off the floor and limped painfully to the bathroom hoping that a hot bath would give him at least a little badly needed respite from the pain.
House was brought out of his thoughts when his cell phone rang. He leaned over and picked it up off the nightstand.
"House," he grumbled.
"Got a case." It was Chase.
"Yeah? So what? I'm off today, remember?"
"But House, this guy came looking for you specifically. Apparently some big shot from New York sent him here. Foreman says this guy's important and he wouldn't ask you to do this if it weren't really important. He says you owe him."
"Oh did he?" House asked in surprise. In reality he knew he owed Foreman. He'd gone to bat for House since resuming his life and while House never came out and thanked him, he appreciated everything Foreman had done.
"Fine, but you get me after physio, the chick doing massages this week is a triple D and I don't want to miss that."
House hung up the phone and sighed. He tried never to miss either physio session or a meeting with Nolan but he knew Foreman wouldn't ask for his help if he didn't really need it. He'd have to call Nolan and let him know he wouldn't be there. House thought about Nolan, he knew he was lucky to have psychiatrist treating him. Despite everything that had happened, Nolan had agreed to take him back as a patient after he'd been released from the correctional facility and had insisted on open and honest communication and that House keep his appointments. In those rare instances when House did have to miss a session, they talked by phone. As a creature of habit, the regular contact as part of his routine was important to House.
Generally House hated psychiatrists but he trusted Nolan because Nolan didn't judge him, he just listened, offered suggestions, asked questions, and helped House see things from a different point of view, in an attempt to break down the walls House had built around himself over the course of his life. It had taken a long time to get House to do that but once he did, he was finally able to begin to heal. Nolan had helped House become comfortable enough to discuss his episodes of breakthrough pain with Wilson, citing that his best friend really needed to know so he could be there for him. There were still times House worried that Wilson still believed the pain was related to Cuddy, or his father or some other unresolved issue in his life, though Wilson had not said or inferred such in a long time. Nolan knew the extent of the damage done by the infarction and subsequent surgery. He knew all too well that the bulk of House's leg pain was real and he understood the toll it took on his body, mind and spirit and when he resumed his sessions with House, they discussed strategies to manage the pain and he convinced House to incorporate a regular exercise and physio routine into his lifestyle, something he had not done much when he left Mayfield. Fortunately, when House began the new routine, he stuck to it, and on days he didn't want to go, he simply remembered what his life had been like before. He feared the possibility that if he discontinued his routine, he would take a giant step backwards and fall into the hole it took him years to crawl out of.
House was grateful to Nolan for taking him back again. Though he made it clear he did not condone House's actions after the breakup with Cuddy, Nolan was completely convinced that the man who committed those acts was not the same man who had walked out of his hospital clean and sober a few years earlier. One of the main reasons House still had a career at Princeton-Plainsboro was because Nolan appeared in person before the Board and explained to them that he believed that House had been suffering from serious diminished mental capacity and that with treatment for his mind, body and spirit, he could begin to heal. Because Daryl Nolan was one of the most respected psychiatrists in the country, the Board took his evaluation of House into serious consideration when they voted to support reinstating his medical license and practice again at their hospital.
It took him over an hour but House finally managed to get himself dressed and in the physio clinic at six o'clock. It had been tough and the pain had him nearly in tears, though he fought it with everything he had. His leg hurt so bad he couldn't drive himself so he had to call a cab to take him to Princeton-Plainsboro. When he arrived, his trainer Vince saw his noticeably worsened limp and the scowl on House's face so he didn't ask questions. In the beginning House had told him that he didn't think the physio would do any good but Vince disagreed with him. Though there was nothing the doctors could do about the damaged nerve endings in his right leg, the purpose of the physio was to strengthen the remainder of his quadriceps muscles as well as the muscles in other parts of his body. House had endured much pain during his therapy over the past year and Vince had helped see him through it. Vince told him early on that a physio routine would have to be an overall body experience and so he worked both legs and his entire upper body as well. He often urged House to push himself to the limit. House was not by any means bulky but in a year's time he'd managed to develop a leaner, more defined musculature which even House had to agree, helped his posture and eased, if not eliminated at times, the shoulder and neck pain often felt from is use of the cane. The strength training, massage and swimming activities combined with the medication had definitely made a difference. There were good days and bad days but on the bad days, the pain was far more manageable than it had ever been.
"Greg, I know this sucks. You did great." Vince tossed a towel at a very sweaty House. He'd intentionally not given House the usual full body workout, choosing instead to do light stretches for the legs, while keeping he majority of the workout to the upper body. He did this to not only give House's aching leg a break, but he hoped the focus on the upper body workout routine would take some of House's thoughts off his leg pain.
"Yeah, whatever," House grumbled. He wasn't in the mood for chit-chat. He was sweating buckets and his face was slightly pale.
"Give me a number." Vince knew House was in a lot of pain.
"An eight, maybe nine." House replied.
"Nine? How long has this been going on?"
"A few days now."
"Have you taken the Oxy?"
"No."
"Jesus Greg. How in hell are you dealing with this?"
"I just am."
"Goddamnit, Greg," he said shaking his head in amazement at man in front of him. He knew House thought himself weak if he had to resort to the pills, but in fact Vince admired the fact that the stubborn son of a bitch could resist them and function at least this well with such intense pain, without falling apart.
"Listen," he said. "There will be times when the pain gets so intense you might need the additional help. I hate pills too but I don't want you to pass out from the pain. So what are we going to do?"
House was irritated at the word we, as if Vince were also in pain. "This is not a we thing Vince, it's a me thing. I've got to deal with this on my own."
"You're such a stubborn son of a bitch," Vince said. "Listen, you don't have to do this alone. I'm setting you up for a massage with Melinda."
"Oh God not her, she's a Nazi."
"Exactly, she needs to really work that leg good."
"How about triple D?" He asked hopefully. He wasn't really interested in ogling the woman's large breasts, but he thought having her massage him was much more fun than the stout, middle-aged woman with the thick accent.
"You mean Christine? Oh she won't hurt you like Marge will," he said.
"Exactly."
"You're going to see Marge, she's the best, and you know it, so suck it up," he said. Then, as if he could read House's mind, he added, "Besides this isn't supposed to be fun."
House scowled at him.
"Look, I'm here to help you. If we don't manage the pain, you're gonna want to go back to the Vicodin. Is that what you want?"
"No," House muttered.
"Then cut the crap. You love to fight me and yet I know you appreciate me." He threw a water bottle to House, who caught it at the last minute. He was thirsty and drank the entire twenty ounces quickly, and then he threw the empty bottle back at Vince.
Vince shook his head and picked up the bottle. "You're an ass but deep down inside, you're a real softie."
House sneered at him. "Yeah? That's not what your mama said."
Vince laughed and turned and left the room, letting House to cool off and dry himself before his massage therapy. Just before turning the corner, he turned back a moment to watch House rub his leg and bang his fist on the bench. Vince didn't pity House, he was amazed by him. He actually liked House and wanted to do everything he could to help him live a life with as much relief from the pain as possible. He sighed and turned the corner looking for Marge.
Around nine-thirty, House limped heavily into his office, freshly showered, damp hair and dressed in his usual Nikes, jeans and a purple button-down shirt. He took a seat behind his desk and hung his cane on the handle of the table behind him. His leg still hurt like hell and though the massage and hot tub helped a little, he knew the pain wouldn't ease anytime soon. He took out his keys and opened up the bottom drawer of his desk. He hesitated a moment and took out the bottle and held it in his hand, just staring at it and contemplating. He set the bottle on his desk and took out his phone and dialed. The party on the other end answered.
"Hello," the voice said.
"It's House."
"Hey, where are you?"
"Princeton."
"What? You're supposed to be on your way."
"Not today."
"What happened?"
"Got a call this morning from my team, said they needed me for a special case."
Nolan sighed on the other end. "Well at least you called. We have a lot to catch up on."
"Yeah, we do."
"First things first. How was physio this morning?"
"Okay. My leg hurts."
"Your leg always hurts. How bad?"
"Bad enough I'm sitting here staring at a full bottle of oxycodone."
Back in the comfortable office in Philadelphia, Nolan leaned forward in his chair, concerned. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Nothing to talk about. It started Sunday and just got worse."
"While you were at Cuddy's?"
"Yeah." House rubbed his thigh. He knew where Nolan was headed.
"Did you and she get into an argument?"
"I know what you're thinking and no."
"So this is the breakthrough pain?"
"Yeah."
"Have you taken anything?"
"Not yet."
"Why not?"
"You know the answer to that."
"You're stronger now Greg. You're aware of your pain, talking about it, and doing what it takes to manage it. There may be times that the breakthrough pain is so intense that the usual treatment won't help. I know you don't want to take the oxy and frankly I hate it too, but...what we don't want is for you to be in so much pain it completely incapacitates you. You know better than most, what pain, especially when it's not controlled, can do to a person."
"Relapse is the last thing I want to happen." House replied.
On the other end of the line in Philadelphia, Nolan leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face. House had come a long way, but he still struggled with his fear of becoming an addict again and rightly so. He had been through more hell than most and made it clear he did not want to go back.
"You may not have a choice right now, especially if it gets worse. You know the dosage, you know how it works. Take one pill and we'll go from there. You've done this before and you can do it again. And remember, you are not alone Greg."
House was silent for a few moments. Finally, he said, "You're right. I can't handle this much pain."
Nolan was relieved. "You've worked hard and you've been strong but sometimes you need help, we all do. Just remember, it is not a sign of weakness to ask for help, in fact, it takes an incredible amount of strength. Do you understand?"
"Yeah," he replied.
Nolan smiled on the other end. "Good, now have you talked to your physician about this?"
"Not yet."
"You're seeing someone other than Wilson, right? We talked about that."
"Grogan, he's actually...pretty good."
House rarely complimented other doctors so Nolan knew Dr. Grogan must indeed be someone who earned House's respect.
"Okay. Make sure he knows. He should always be kept informed of these occurrences. Now, how about Wilson and Cuddy?"
"Haven't talked to them."
"You should. Let them be there for you."
"Not about this, no. I don't want them to worry."
"They care about you and that's what people who care about you do, they worry. But...they also give you a shoulder to lean on, words of encouragement, and strength during moments of self-doubt and weakness. You've come a long way in your progress but sometimes you need a little push...we all do. Let them be there for you Greg, don't shut out the people who care about you. I know it's not easy at times but you can do this. You've been doing it and you will continue to do it."
"Okay." House felt better hearing those words from Nolan. Sometimes he needed a push.
"Good. Now, do you want to talk more now? If not we can pick this up again soon."
"I probably should find out what's going on with the patient."
"Okay, call me later."
"I will."
"Hey Greg?"
"Yeah."
"You've made great progress and you continue that every single day. I'm proud of you."
House swallowed hard hearing those words. Even though he'd heard them from the people who cared about him-Nolan, Wilson, his mother, and now Cuddy, the words still sometimes sounded foreign to him. Sometimes it was still hard to accept that he was worthy of such praise.
"Thanks," he replied, before he disconnected the call.
House grabbed the bottle of pills and reached for his cane. He hobbled over to the Eames chair and eased himself into it, putting his legs up on the ottoman. He sat there several minutes, his right palm digging into his leg as he held the bottle of pills in his other hand. He just stared at it, feeling conflicted. He'd been through this routine before, contemplating the pros and cons and then finally settling on the route which would ease his pain. He knew he'd been fine every other time but still, the fear was always there. Finally, he let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and he removed the cap on the bottle and shook out one pill. One step at at time, he thought. He placed the closed prescription bottle on the bookshelf next to to him and reached for the half bottle of water on the floor next to his chair. After emptying the bottle, he let out a loud sigh, tossed the bottle in the trash, then leaned back in the chair and waited.
I really wanted to convey the extent of House's pain. It hasn't been discussed much because House has been doing relatively well. He's been going to his physio, doing his exercises and seeing Nolan. He deals with pain every day but it's been manageable, much more than it has ever been in the past. The breakthrough pain comes unexpectedly and when it does...well you see what it does to House. I wanted to explore how House handled this worst pain during times when things were going relatively well for him. It shows us just how far he's come and also that he still deals with some of his old demons and his doubts about himself and others. There will be more to come regarding House's pain and Wilson and most of all, Cuddy will play a significant role in that! Real growth and change doesn't come overnight and this has been a long ongoing process for House. Actually, not just House, but Cuddy and Wilson too. I hope you liked this chapter. Please review on the way out. Thanks so much for taking the time to read it!
Have a wonderful weekend. Another chapter to come soon.