Two conversations
A.N. This is the last chapter for a week and a half or so. I've already written the next instalment, though, and have got lots of ideas for the future. I'm having a lot of fun. This story is tagged 'romance' and I'm very aware that there has been very little of that. Rest assured: it's coming! Big thanks to readers and reviewers (I can see from site metrics that we have a solid fanbase here), it really helps with motivation. Have a happy Christmas and New Year. See you in 2020.
It was only Monday morning, but Cuddy was already beginning to feel that it was going to be one of those weeks. She had spent the weekend finalising her presentation to the Board regarding the increased precautions adopted in the aftermath of the attack. Security consultants had been commissioned and a survey conducted amongst the staff to ascertain whether they would appreciate a more visible protective presence in the common areas. She didn't think it a good look to have armed guards loitering around, but it was a necessary evil.
Aside from this, the hospital was still to secure a reliable sponsor following last year's debacle with Vogler and its medical insurers were using this uncertainty to increase their premiums—no doubt the Board would interrogate her on this, too. And she had yet to read fully through the psychiatric reports on House's fellows, despite them being several weeks old. Lots to do, but this was her job, and she wouldn't have it otherwise.
All the same, it was a fraught situation. The shooting itself had caused obvious distress and Cuddy was still working through the consequences. But it had also given a few on the Board further ammunition to push for the shutdown of Diagnostics and the termination of its Head's tenure. Some of them, while disapproving of Vogler's heavy-handed methods, could nevertheless see his point regarding House's idiosyncratic blend of blatant nonconformity and brash rudeness. Although none of them had said this out loud, she knew that they placed a part of the blame for the attack on House himself—he routinely aggravated those around him, the argument went, so was it so surprising that someone had finally snapped? Add to that the high cost of the department, and she was under some pressure to make a clean break from her troublesome employee and re-purpose his funding.
But Cuddy had known for many years that House was a man apart, both in his medical ability and in his manners; had even put aside a fraction of the budget to pay for potential legal expenses arising from his unorthodox methods. She fully accepted that Diagnostics took up a disproportionate share of hospital funds and equipment, and that its boss was a pain to manage, but she considered it a price worth paying. House and his team had, over the years, saved hundreds of people with seemingly incurable symptoms, people who would otherwise have died. And even setting aside the preservation of life argument, the fact that his work was so often on the boundary of medical knowledge meant that his team published some spectacular papers—she had received more requests for keynote speeches from House and his team than all of her other doctors combined. She had given it a lot of thought and believed the intangible benefit and status that accrued to PPTH for hosting Diagnostics outweighed the very tangible dent it made in the hospital coffers.
There was a further factor in House's favour—Cuddy was fond of him. She would never admit it, but she considered him a good friend—probably, aside from Wilson, her only friend—and felt protective of him and his peculiarities. She hadn't given their relationship much thought, but, despite the fact that she was younger than he, she supposed that House was like a little brother. House was strange, he was unique. And because he was unique, he was manageable. A house full of Houses. Now that would be hard to contain. Lost in her reverie, she knocked to the floor the file containing her presentation papers and they now lay strewn across the carpet. She sighed and bent down to retrieve them.
"In answer to your implicit question, yes, your ass does look big in that", came the instantly recognisable voice from behind her.
Cuddy straightened and smoothed her skirt. "Your opinions on my wardrobe have always been precious to me, House", she answered, still with her back to the door.
House smirked and made no move to help his boss in regathering the scattered documents.
"Would you mind? I have a meeting with the Board in twenty minutes".
"I'd love to help you, Dr. Cuddy, but I'm under strict orders not to place undue stress on my leg. So, I think it's best that I observe you from this seat. If you know what I mean", he winked, sinking into the big chair by the door.
Cuddy rolled her eyes. Nearly two months off, bullets in the neck and abdomen, and he still hadn't changed. Good for the hospital, good for House. Bad for her. Life was getting back to normal. "It's funny you mention the leg and keeping off it. Thing is, I've heard through the grapevine that you've started exercising again, so I don't really follow the logic there".
"Well, that's because you're not an actual doctor. But don't worry. Keep your head down, work hard, and you'll get there eventually". House gave her a double thumbs up from across the room.
Cuddy smiled sweetly at him, before inquiring with a hint of trepidation: "how is the leg, anyway? Still going strong?".
"No complaints, ma'am, no complaints. Thanks on that front, by the way. Couldn't have done it without you".
Cuddy inclined her head in acknowledgement. "Settled back in with the team?".
"You'll be delighted to discover that they are working busily and solving a great many medical mysteries as we speak", said House, who had begun to rearrange the cushions into interesting shapes.
"Great—I'll be able to sleep tonight safe in the knowledge that your paperwork is up to date". House snorted and got up, as if about to leave, but Cuddy stopped him: "was there something else you wanted to tell me before you leave, House?".
He made as if to consider the question deeply. "I suppose I could offer my assessment on the rest of your body. Let's see…the sisters appear to be in good shape-".
"-not what I meant", interjected Cuddy firmly.
"Well, in that case, I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about".
"Ah, well, alright then". Cuddy stacked the retrieved papers on her desk and checked her email, apparently finished with her employee.
"May I be excused, mistress?", inquired House. Not waiting for an answer, he opened the door and walked out.
"Oh, and House?", called Cuddy towards his retreating back, which paused in the outer office, "how's Cameron nowadays?".
House visibly stiffened at this. After a moment's hesitation he carried on into the lobby. He had a date with a certain talkative oncologist.
"All I'm asking is that you tread carefully!", she bellowed from her desk.
Like I didn't know that already, he thought.
Wilson pressed the button for the elevator. He had not enjoyed that meeting, not one bit. One of his staff, whom he had hired on good recommendation, had been found in the disabled toilets on the fifth floor sniffing a line of cocaine. The young man's career in medicine was over, and, as Head of Oncology, Wilson now had to file a report to Cuddy, who had been forced to skip the meeting over her own rendezvous with the Board. There was no way he could have known about the man's drug problem, but it still rankled: Wilson had chosen this hire over several exceptional candidates and he took it as a personal slight that one of his own had broken bad. He unlocked the door, entered his darkened office, and switched on the light.
"Well, well, well. Sinon has returned to finish what he started", exclaimed House, who had been lying on his friend's sofa in the gloom.
Wilson jumped in surprise. "House—what are you doing in my office in the dark, for God's sake!?". The oncologist, recovering quickly, moved to his desk, draped his jacket over the chair, and woke his computer up from standby. "And who the hell is Sinon?".
House opened his mouth in mock surprise. "Virgil's Aeneid? Greek spy? Convinced the Trojans to bring the Horse into the city?".
Wilson looked blankly back at him.
"I tell you, sometimes I weep for the state of American education".
"Your concern is noted. And you still haven't told me what you're doing here".
"Isn't it obvious? I'm lying in wait for my treacherous friend". House got up from his prone position and walked over to sit on the corner of the desk.
"Right. And what did I do?".
"Cuddy knows about my little…dream concerning Cameron. I wonder how that happened. Any ideas, Jimmy?". House's eyes flashed dangerously.
Wilson knew that his friend would find out eventually, but he could still have wished for a bit more time to marshal arguments for the defence. There was nothing for it now but unvarnished honesty. "Cuddy cares for you. We both do. And I wanted a second opinion".
"A second opinion on what?".
"On you". House scoffed at this, but Wilson held up his hand. "Hallucinations are serious, OK, whether you wish to accept it or not-".
"-you don't think I'm taking this seriously? Did you even listen to me the other night?".
Wilson placed both his palms on the desk and lowered his voice in what he hoped was a conciliatory gesture. "All I'm saying is that this is unusual territory for us both. I wanted to make sure that I was giving you good advice, that I was doing the right thing".
House experienced a surge of hot anger. "Advice? You haven't given me any advice except that I'm in trouble, whatever the fuck that means. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that one out. I know I'm not all read up on professional policy, but I'm pretty sure falling for your much younger subordinate is a pretty big no-no as far as things go". As soon as he said the words, House got up from his sitting position on the desk and made his way over to the window, which looked out onto the wood-lined avenues in the hospital grounds.
"You…you're falling for her?".
"No, no. It was…a slip of the tongue. I haven't decided yet. She has many annoying qualities. I'm just trying to remember them is all. Seeing her here today. It's been so long since…". House trailed off, unwilling to continue.
Wilson got up to join his friend by the window, his own annoyance at the drugged-up staffer completely faded. Together they watched people milling about below: patients taking guided walks under the watchful eyes of nurses or family members; groups of friends enjoying a leisurely lunch on the sun-drenched grass banks; children running about with joyful faces. All oblivious to the two men above.
"You want to talk about it? I'll buy you lunch".
House exhaled through his nose. "I don't want to talk about it. This is something I have to deal with myself. But I will take you up on lunch".
Wilson nodded and went to retrieve his jacket and wallet from the back of the desk chair.
House waited by the door, where he was soon joined by the other doctor. "James?", he asked, turning to address his companion squarely in the face.
"Yes, Greg?".
"Promise me that you will never tell Cameron about my…confession. This stays between us, understand?". House's blue eyes were shining with an emotion the other couldn't identify.
"You mean the confession about the hallucination or the one where you're in love with her?".
House spoke through clenched teeth. "I'm not in love with her. I'm still thinking. Got it?".
Wilson held up his hands in surrender. "OK, OK. I solemnly swear not to disclose to Cameron whatever it is you're feeling regarding love, hallucinations, or anything else. I promise to uphold the illusion that you are an unfeeling robot".
Seemingly satisfied, House opened the door and stepped into the corridor. Wilson turned off the light and locked his office. Both men walked to the cafeteria together, their steps soon swallowed up in the hustle and bustle of the hospital.