Chapter 22 – Cuddy's feelings

December had finally arrived. November had seemed to drag on endlessly, with Cuddy barely having time to breathe after their weekend in Vernon. That brief family getaway felt like a distant memory now. Since then, it had been an endless stream of meetings, budget reviews, and back-to-back discussions about the new pediatric wing that still needed more funding—funds she couldn't seem to secure. There was the shortage of doctors across multiple departments, not just endocrinology but also hematology and orthopedics. It was exhausting, and Cuddy found herself stretched thin, trying to balance it all.

On top of all that, the girls had their first-term exams coming up, projects due, and Hope's gymnastics competition just days away on December 4th. Rachel's birthday was on the 21st, and Cuddy felt like she hadn't slept more than four hours a night in weeks. To make matters worse, House was deep into a complicated case. The likelihood of him spending the night at the hospital running tests was high, and the fact that he hadn't told her which tests those were? That, definitely, wasn't a good sign.

Cuddy glanced at the clock on her desk — 8:30 p.m. Hope and Rachel were already in bed, and Paige had finally fallen asleep after a particularly fussy evening. She sat back in her chair, rubbing her temples as she scanned over the budget report one last time. Her mind was racing, but she knew there wasn't much more she could do tonight.

She picked up her phone, staring at the empty screen for a moment before finally sending a quick text to House: Everything ok?

A part of her didn't expect an answer right away — maybe not until morning. House was notorious for getting lost in his cases, and she had learned long ago that if he wasn't reaching out, it wasn't necessarily because something was wrong — just that he was... in his element. Still, not knowing gnawed at her. She knew him well enough to sense when things might be off, and tonight felt like one of those times.

Her phone buzzed almost instantly, surprising her. Test results came in, nothing conclusive yet. I'll be late. Get some rest. It was typical House, to the point, no details. It should've been reassuring — but it wasn't.

She leaned back in her chair, letting out a long breath. How was it possible to juggle everything? The hospital, the girls, House... and somehow keep it all balanced? And with December in full swing, everything seemed even more chaotic.

Her phone buzzed again. She looked down. Stop overthinking. You're good at this. She smiled slightly, rolling her eyes. Even when he wasn't there, he could always read her thoughts.

Standing up, she decided to call it a night.

-/-

House walked through the front door just as the first rays of morning light filtered through the curtains. His movements were sluggish, and it was clear from the way he tossed his bag on the floor that he hadn't slept in over 24 hours, maybe longer.

Cuddy had just finished showering, a towel wrapped around her as she dried her hair. She glanced at him, noticing the heavy exhaustion pulling at his features. His usual sharpness was dulled, replaced by a weary expression that immediately set off alarms in her mind.

"Wilson's disease," he muttered, voice rough from fatigue. "Finally nailed the diagnosis. Kid's gonna live, but I... I need to sleep."

"You look like you've been through hell," Cuddy said softly, watching as he rubbed his face with his hand.

"Feel like it," he replied with a half-smile, though it barely reached his eyes.

He stood there for a moment, unmoving, staring at the bathroom door. "I need a shower," he said, though his voice was almost detached, like he was too tired to actually process the thought fully.

Cuddy stepped toward him, concern clear in her eyes. "Are you okay?" she asked, knowing it wasn't just about the lack of sleep. Something else had him wound tight. She gently rested a hand on his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles.

House met her gaze, his expression softening slightly. "Yeah, just... I'm wiped out. Need a few hours of sleep, and I'll be good."

She gave him a small nod. "Go take your shower. I'll get the bed ready. You're done for the day."

He hesitated for a moment, then gave her a grateful look before heading to the bathroom, the sound of the water starting a moment later. Cuddy stood there for a second, her hand still hovering where she'd touched his arm, before she moved to straighten the bed.

It was quiet in the house, a stark contrast to the chaos of the hospital, of her work, of their lives. She glanced out the window, the early morning light promising another busy day, but right now, all that mattered was getting House some rest.

House woke up several hours later, blinking against the afternoon light that filtered through the curtains. The house was quiet, unusually so. He glanced at the clock—it was already past three in the afternoon. Stretching, he felt the stiffness in his muscles, a result of two nights spent at the hospital, but the rest had done him good.

After 48 hours straight at the hospital, he figured he deserved at least one day off. Slowly, he got up, his body protesting from the extended hours on his feet. Instinctively, his hand went to his right thigh. Almost two years had passed since the pain disappeared, and it still amazed him that he no longer felt anything there.

It was incredible how that miracle had happened. The neuronal death of the area was something that might pose problems later in life, but for now, it wasn't. He was pain-free—House was himself again. He could do everything he'd once thought was out of reach. He didn't even remember the last time he'd taken an elevator, and as far as he was concerned, he had no plans to use one anytime soon.

He had been given a miracle, though he didn't believe in miracles. But somehow, he felt like a lucky bastard for it. The neuronal death in his leg had given him something beyond relief from constant agony—it had given him his life back, a life where he could raise his daughters without the constant burden of pain. He could do everything other fathers did, and he embraced it fully.

Teaching the girls how to ride bikes, skate, play lacrosse, softball, baseball, swim—he did it all. He could run, lift them in his arms whenever they wanted, as many times as they wanted. And though the scar was still there, ugly and gnarly, it was a reminder of what he had endured and survived.

He knew it was horrendous, but to him, it was also a symbol. A mark of all the things he could now do, pain-free. All the things he wouldn't trade for anything.

House got up and started getting ready to head out. Hope and Rachel would be out of school at four, and he sent Cuddy a quick message, letting her know not to worry—he had everything handled with the girls. Paige had been going to daycare since she turned six months, and Cuddy would pick her up around five when she finished at the hospital.

He would take Hope to her gymnastics practice and Rachel to her lacrosse training. The house was unusually quiet, a rare occurrence with three daughters. But despite the chaos, he loved it. Silence had been a constant in his childhood home, and unfortunately, he'd grown accustomed to solitude during part of his adult life. But with kids, that concept didn't exist, and he was immensely grateful for it. If anything, he suspected Cuddy needed silence more than he did at times.

As he passed the living room, his eyes fell on the piano, noticing the sheet music scattered across its surface. Hope had been practicing for her school's Christmas recital, working on a piece she'd be performing. He knew how much talent she had, and how, like him, music helped her to think and unwind.

Rachel was just as excited. House had been teaching her how to play "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star," a simple children's tune, but to her, it was a big deal. She was eager to perform at the recital alongside her sister. House was confident she'd do well—if she could just get her nerves under control, everything would fall into place.

A faint smile crossed his face. The house may be quiet now, but soon, it would be filled with the sounds of laughter, music, and the daily whirlwind of raising three girls. And as far as House was concerned, that was the best kind of noise.

-/-

"Mrs. Hayley wants to talk to you, Dad," Hope said as she got into the car. House looked at her, and Hope just shrugged.

"Now?" House asked, and Hope nodded.

"Okay," he muttered as he stepped out of the car, making his way into the school. He had to show his ID at two different checkpoints, thinking that the girls' private school had tighter security than the hospital. Hope's classroom was colorful, warm, and fun—everything perfect for a ten-year-old. He knew his daughter loved school, the teachers, and the activities, even though no academic subject was ever truly difficult for her.

"Dr. House?" Hope's teacher snapped him back to the present. "Good afternoon."

"Afternoon," House replied, shaking her outstretched hand.

"I'm sorry for asking to speak with you without prior notice, but I wanted to talk to you about Hope." She began, gesturing toward one of the small round tables. "Here are Hope's midterm grades." She handed House a report card filled with perfect A. "Hope completed the math test in three minutes—it was designed to take an hour. Don't get me wrong, Dr. House, Hope is a wonderful child. She's polite, bright, and well-liked by all her classmates, but I believe she's not being academically challenged and—"

"Mrs. Hayley," House interrupted, "my daughter has an IQ above 190, just like me." He stated it matter-of-factly. "Learning isn't a challenge for her. It never will be, no matter what grade she's in. So, we're not interested in advancing her academically."

The teacher hesitated for a moment, allowing House to continue. "Hope, as you know, had a difficult start in life. Both my wife and I are still helping her work through that. We want her to stay in her current grade with her friends, with kids her own age, and just enjoy being a kid. As for her academics, she meets the requirements—clearly—and excels, as these grades show." He tapped the report card. "If her staying here becomes an issue, we'll find a school that can accommodate our approach."

"Not at all, Dr. House," Mrs. Hayley responded quickly. "Hope's place at this school is in no way at risk. We offer this option to all parents with gifted children like Hope, but it's entirely up to you whether she advances academically."

"She'll stay where she is," House reiterated. "Our priority is her happiness and comfort, and she's happy with her friends, with the school events, and the classes she's in."

"And she'll continue to be," Mrs. Hayley assured him with a warm smile. "Hope is an extraordinary child, truly remarkable. You must be so proud of her."

"We are very proud of Hope," House said, his tone softening but still firm.

-/-

"I missed you at the hospital," Cuddy said as she joined House at Rachel's lacrosse practice. It was almost funny to watch five- and six-year-olds running around, trying to grasp the basics of lacrosse. House found it amusing too, seeing his middle daughter practice a sport he himself had played throughout his teenage years and early adulthood. She had a knack for it and was getting better with every session.

He chuckled at Cuddy's remark, turning to her and placing a soft kiss on her lips. "Hope's teacher wanted to talk to me today," he said, then proceeded to recount the entire conversation with Mrs. Hayley.

Cuddy listened closely, her brow furrowing slightly. "I knew this would happen sooner or later. She's just... ahead of everything. It's not surprising, but still, I worry sometimes. She's already navigating so much, and I don't want her to feel isolated or out of place."

House shrugged, keeping his gaze on Rachel as she ran after the ball. "I told the teacher the same thing we decided years ago. Hope stays in her current grade. Skipping ahead wouldn't make her any happier—she'd just be more bored."

Cuddy nodded. "I know. But I also don't want her to feel like we're holding her back." Her voice softened, clearly thinking about Hope's emotional well-being as much as her intellect.

"She won't," House reassured her. "We've always kept her stimulated outside of school. She loves reading medical cases and learning whatever she wants to on her own time. That's where she finds her challenges. At school, she gets to be a kid, make friends, and just enjoy life."

Cuddy sighed softly, leaning her head on his shoulder. "You're right. I just—sometimes I wonder if that's the right thing for her..."

House nodded, resting his head against hers. "We are doing this for her, it's what's best for her. She'll be fine. She's already amazing at everything she does."

Cuddy smiled, her worries easing just a little. "She really is. We are lucky to have her! She's so amazing with us, with Rachel… I just feel so lucky to be her mother."

"She's amazing," House agreed. "They both are."

Cuddy nodded, glancing out at Rachel who was laughing with her teammates as she tried to catch the lacrosse ball. "We got really lucky," she added softly. "Hope is so patient with Rachel and Paige, and Rachel... she's just full of life and she just takes so much after you."

House smirked. "Yeah, I just... I'm happy, with them, with you"

Cuddy looked at him with love, her expression softening. "I never thought we'd have this, you know? A family like this."

He leaned in and kissed her forehead. "Neither did I. Cuddy, you are the best thing that ever happen to me, you and the girls"

-/-

"Mommy," Hope began as she sat at the kitchen table for dinner, "are you going to do my hair for the competition?"

Cuddy hesitated for a moment. She didn't have a natural talent for hairstyling—her sister Julia, on the other hand, was a pro. Julia's daughters always had their hair neatly braided, adorned with ribbons, clips, and bows. Cuddy, though, kept her own hair loose most of the time, especially since her curls were hard to manage. But Hope's hair was completely different—straight, blonde, and shoulder-length. On competition days, her gymnastics required neat braids with ribbons, and hairstyling was not exactly Cuddy's strong suit. Still, if there was one thing she had, it was resilience and the will to learn.

"I can try, Hope," she said with a smile. "I think I can manage something."

"Do you have my leotard for the competition?" Hope asked, already planning ahead.

"Yes, Hope," Cuddy assured her, smiling. "It arrived today. It's in the laundry room."

"Okay," Hope said, her face lighting up. "Can we do braids?"

"We can," Cuddy nodded, smiling at her daughter.

"Hope's going to do gymnastics?" Rachel piped up, looking at her parents.

"Yes," Cuddy smiled at her middle daughter, but House jumped in to explain further.

"On Saturday, we're all going to New York to watch Hope compete," House said with a grin.

"Yaaay!" Rachel cheered, beaming at her older sister. "I want braids too!"

"Of course," Hope replied, turning to Rachel. "You can have your hair just like mine."

Rachel's wide smile showed her excitement, but Cuddy couldn't help but wonder if she'd be able to manage even Hope's hair, let alone Rachel's.

-/-

The girls were finally in bed, and Cuddy sat at the vanity, applying her night creams while House watched her from across the room, a smile playing on his lips.

"What?" Cuddy asked, catching his gaze through the mirror.

"You know you're beautiful," he said, his eyes never leaving her.

She looked at her reflection—wearing one of his old lacrosse T-shirts, her hair hastily tied up, no makeup. "I'm every guy's dream," she quipped sarcastically.

"You are," he replied, his tone serious, staring at her with such intensity that she couldn't help but smile.

"Keep your game, House," she teased, getting up and walking toward him. "I'm already a sure thing."

"Can't I tell my wife she's beautiful?" he asked, pulling her closer.

"You can," she said, settling into his lap. "You should."

He wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her softly. "I love you."

"I love you too," she whispered back, resting her forehead against his.

-/-

As Cuddy had predicted, the week flew by. It was Friday afternoon when she finally had a chance to sit down for lunch in the hospital cafeteria. House was already there, sitting with Wilson. She walked over, placing her tray on the table before sliding into the seat beside House. They exchanged a quick kiss on the lips, a gesture that had become so natural over the years.

"Afternoon, Wilson," she greeted with a smile, glancing between the two men.

Wilson gave her a warm nod. "Busy week for all of us, huh?"

Cuddy sighed, leaning back in her chair. "You have no idea. Meetings, budgets, and Hope's competition tomorrow… I'm just trying to keep my head above water."

House took a sip of his coffee and smirked. "At least you have me to help you stay afloat."

Cuddy raised an eyebrow, smirking back at him. "Oh, please, you're more like an anchor sometimes."

Wilson chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter between them. "So, are you ready for the gymnastics competition?"

"Hope's been practicing nonstop. She's really excited," Cuddy said, a hint of pride in her voice.

"She'll do great," House added casually, though his expression softened in a way only Cuddy could recognize. It was clear how proud he was of their daughter too.

As they shared their meal, the conversation drifted between work, family, and the rare moments of downtime they managed to carve out.

"After Hope's competition, we could go to Central Park and Rockefeller to see the Christmas tree," House suggested, watching as Cuddy's smile grew noticeably wider.

"Yes, the girls will love that," she agreed, her excitement apparent.

"Is Paige going with you guys?" Wilson asked, curious.

"No," Cuddy replied, shaking her head. "Marina's going to stay with her. It's going to be way too long in the gym for the competition. Hope needs to be there around eight, which means leaving Princeton before six in the morning. It'd be too much for Paige—too noisy, too many hours."

"Rachel's coming with us, though," House added with a grin. "And getting her up that early without a tantrum is already going to be enough of a challenge."

"Rachel's becoming more and more like you," Wilson teased with a chuckle.

"Funny," House shot back dryly. "Guess we'll know she's really like me when she starts diagnosing random people at daycare."

-/-

"I've confirmed our presence for the last weekend in January, in Michigan," Cuddy said to House as he entered her office in the middle of the afternoon.

"I need you to authorize this," he said, handing her a document for a medical procedure.

"Your patient can't have surgery again less than 48 hours after the last one—the risk of complications is massive."

"The worst complication is death, which is pretty much guaranteed without the surgery," House replied. "Cuddy, there's no other option here."

She took a deep breath. The fact that he wasn't making jokes meant this was serious. "House..."

"Cuddy," he interrupted, his tone firm. "This is the only shot I've got. It's this or death. There's nothing physiologically wrong with him, but he's still dying."

She looked at him once more and sighed. "Make sure the family knows this second surgery is a real risk and that the patient could die on the table."

"Got it," House said, and he turned to leave but paused at her office door. "End of January weekend, it'll be fun."

"They said we can bring kids over eight," she informed him. "Rachel wants to go to her cousin's birthday party, and Paige will stay with your mom... so we could take Hope with us."

"Sounds good," he said, smiling. "She'll love visiting Ann Arbor, and it'll be a chance for her to show off."

Cuddy laughed, and he flashed a small smile in return. "I've gotta go. See you at home, Cuddles."

-/-

House entered the house just after six in the evening, expecting to find the usual rhythm of family life—his daughters likely finishing their snacks and settling into their homework routines. As he walked into the living room, he immediately saw Hope filling out a worksheet for a book she was reading for her literature class. Cuddy, on the other hand, was multitasking, trying to comfort a crying Paige while also attempting to help Rachel with her homework.

"Hey, good evening," House greeted as he stepped inside.

The moment he spoke, Rachel's frustrations, which had been building throughout the afternoon, bubbled over. She had been struggling with her homework, and Cuddy's divided attention—between helping her and calming Paige—had only made it worse. The sound of Paige's crying seemed to amplify Rachel's feelings of helplessness. House immediately sensed the tension. Rachel, already on the verge of tears, broke down completely the moment she heard her dad's voice.

Cuddy was surprised by the sudden outburst. "Can you try to calm Paige down? I'll stay here," she suggested, looking at House.

House nodded, then bent down to scoop Rachel into his arms, holding her close. "It's okay, Rach," he whispered softly, repeating the words as Rachel clung to him, still crying.

Hope sat quietly at the table, watching the scene unfold with a puzzled look, unsure of what had triggered her sister's tears.

"Rach, honey," Cuddy called softly when she returned to the living room a few moments later, having just put Paige down in her crib. House was still holding Rachel, who had calmed down somewhat but was still inconsolable. As Cuddy approached and gently touched Rachel's back, the little girl immediately clung tighter to her father.

This small action took both House and Cuddy by surprise, and it hit Cuddy deeply. Her eyes filled with tears almost instantly. The past few weeks had been tough—Cuddy constantly felt like she was failing in one way or another. She wanted more time with her daughters, more time to focus on her responsibilities at the hospital. She left so many tasks undone, as an administrator, as a doctor, and as a mother. But she had made herself a promise when she adopted Rachel—her daughters would always come first.

Yet Paige was so young, and on most days, Cuddy felt like their nanny spent more time with her than she did. She couldn't be everywhere at once, and the guilt weighed heavily. She understood Rachel's meltdown; transitioning from the youngest to the middle child wasn't easy. As a doctor and an older sister herself, she knew that. But Rachel's reaction when Cuddy had tried to comfort her stung in a way Cuddy hadn't anticipated.

"Rach," House spoke softly, "Mommy wants to talk to you."

"No, she doesn't. She only likes Paige now," Rachel mumbled, her small voice still thick with tears. "She doesn't want me anymore. She doesn't like me."

"Oh, sweetheart, that's not true," Cuddy rushed to say, her hand once again reaching to soothe Rachel's back. "Paige is just very little, and she needs a lot of attention right now. But I love you just as much, I promise."

"I HATE PAIGE!" Rachel's voice rose in a way that was completely unlike her usual self. "I NEVER WANT TO SEE HER AGAIN!" She buried her face in her father's chest, sobbing harder than before.

"Let me talk to her," House said gently to Cuddy. "We'll be right back." He stood up, carrying Rachel to her room, leaving Cuddy standing in the living room, feeling the sharp ache of guilt and helplessness.

Tears clouded Cuddy's blue eyes as she stood there, frozen in place, her mind swirling with all the ways she felt she was falling short. She wanted to be everything for all three of her daughters, but she felt stretched too thin.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she felt small arms wrap around her waist. Cuddy looked down to see Hope hugging her tightly. She bent down, wrapping her eldest in her arms.

"You're the best mom in the world," Hope whispered, her voice soft and full of reassurance. Cuddy couldn't help but let a few tears fall as she held onto her.

"Rachel's just sad," Hope continued. "But she'll feel better soon. I know it."

Cuddy smiled through her tears, gently stroking Hope's hair. "Thank you, sweetie. I love you so much."

"I love you too, Mom," Hope whispered back. "Everything's going to be okay."

-/-

Cuddy had just tucked Hope into bed, trying hard to push away the weight of Rachel's rejection. She had gone to Rachel's room one last time to say goodnight, but her middle daughter had remained silent, her small body turned away, refusing to speak or look at her. It was as if every effort Cuddy made to connect was met with a wall that seemed to grow taller by the minute, and the ache in her chest became unbearable.

Back in her own room, Cuddy sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling the emotions she had held back all evening starting to bubble over. She pulled her knees to her chest, hugging herself tightly as if trying to hold herself together, but it didn't work. The frustration, the overwhelming sense of failure, and the sadness of Rachel's unhappiness crashed over her like a tidal wave.

Silent tears quickly turned into heart-wrenching sobs. The room seemed to blur as her vision clouded with tears. She buried her face into her hands, her body shaking with every breath as she let out everything she had been holding in. She felt utterly broken—torn between being the mother she wanted to be and the reality of what she was facing. Cuddy wanted to be there for each of her daughters in the way they needed, but tonight, it felt like she had failed both Rachel and herself.

The pain twisted in her chest, and for the first time in years, Cuddy allowed herself to cry this hard. It had been so long since she'd let go like this, since she had felt this lost. The emotions felt too big to contain, and time slipped away as her sobs filled the quiet room. Minutes, or maybe hours, passed—it was hard to tell. She felt the ache deepen with each moment, her mind replaying Rachel's words, the sadness in her eyes, and her own guilt at not being able to fix it.

She didn't even realize House had entered the room until she felt his arms wrap around her from behind. His presence was solid, grounding, as he pulled her against his chest. The familiar scent of him—comforting, warm—seeped into her, but still, she cried. His embrace tightened slightly, just enough to let her know he was there, saying nothing, simply letting her feel what she needed to feel.

She continued to sob into his chest, the tears flowing without restraint. And yet, as she leaned into him, the storm inside her slowly began to calm. House didn't say a word, his touch was soft, reassuring, the weight of his arms around her steadying her in ways words couldn't.

Eventually, her tears slowed, her breathing evening out. The exhaustion of the night, of the overwhelming emotions, began to take its toll. She felt her body relax, her sobs quieting into soft whimpers, and she allowed herself to rest in his arms. The heaviness of sleep finally pulled her under, the lingering sadness still present but now dulled by the comfort of his presence.

House held her close, watching as her breathing softened into sleep. He gently ran a hand through her hair, staying with her as she drifted off, knowing that while he couldn't fix everything, at least for now, she wasn't alone in this.

-/-

Cuddy woke up to a soft voice whispering in her ear. "Mommy," Rachel called, her voice trembling and barely audible. Cuddy slowly opened her eyes, and there was Rachel, her almost six-year-old daughter, staring at her with tear-filled eyes. "Mommy," she repeated, her voice breaking again, full of sadness.

Cuddy sat up in bed, her heart racing as she saw the expression on Rachel's face. Before she could say anything, Rachel threw herself into her arms, hugging her tightly. Cuddy could feel her small body trembling slightly and, without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around her daughter, kissing the top of her head with tenderness.

"I'm sorry, mommy. I love you," Rachel whispered, her voice still shaky but full of remorse.

Cuddy's heart swelled with love and relief. "I love you too, baby," she said softly, rocking Rachel gently in her arms, her hand brushing through her daughter's hair. "I love you so much."

Rachel sighed, feeling safe and secure in her mother's embrace, and slowly drifted off to sleep. She fell asleep there, in her parents' bed, one of her favorite places in the world, surrounded by the warmth and love only her mother could give. Cuddy stayed there, holding her, feeling the tension of the past few days gradually melt away, grateful for this quiet moment of reconciliation.