House waited in his car outside Cuddy's home. She said her session was till twelve. It was almost thirty minutes past that. She should be home soon. Maybe he should leave. Maybe she wouldn't want him here. She had taken a leave to be away from him. She had a kid who needed her attention. But he wanted her. He needed more information for his differential. He needed to know if the shrink helped her. He - he didn't really like being miserable.
A knock on the window interrupted his thoughts. He looked towards the sound. It was her. He lowered the window. "You know there was a great invention called doorbell. You ring it and someone opens the door."
"Didn't think you'd be home."
"My babysitter was. With my baby."
"Didn't want to scare her."
She grinned at him. House admired the smile. It made her look even more beautiful. "Come on. I am going to send her back." She walked back to her car and drove into the driveway. House opened his car door and grunted as he shifted. Damn leg. He stepped out of the car and limped to her front door. She was already paying her babysitter. House followed her as she went to check on the kid. He leaned against the door and watched as she softly kissed the kid. House looked into the room. There were toys and clothes everything a kid might need. She was loved.
House walked back to the living room and sat down on the couch. "How was it with the shrink?" House asked as she walked back into the room.
"It was fine. We talked about somethings."
"Like my dad," he filled in. She needed to process what he told her. He shouldn't have.
"No. Like my dad," she replied, sitting next to him. She rested her house on the back of the couch. House looked at her. Did her father -? "He had a heart attack. I was the only one at home with him. Couldn't do anything. I had been in the last year of my medical school. When mom found out, she told me that my education was a waste. That was the first thing she said to me after all that."
"Let me guess. The shrink told you that it wasn't your fault and to suck it up," House said.
"No," she protested. "She wanted me to talk to mom. But she likes to pretend that didn't happen. So instead, we have been working on some strategies to address the guilt and find closure."
That sounded…nice. If he could address his own - maybe -
"You know I am still surprised you managed to talk her into sending the desk."
"Oh, now you wanna talk about the desk?" It slipped out without him meaning to. What the hell was wrong with him? Maybe she didn't like it. Maybe she was upset about how he had treated her.
"I wanted to talk to you about the desk. Came to your office even. But you were busy with a female friend." House looked at her in surprise and then remembered.
"You stupid woman," he said with a laugh. Cuddy frowned. "Kutner had started a second opinion clinic under my name. I sent the girl to scare him. Talked Chase and Cameron into helping me. The patient mysteriously died and then I resurrected her in the morgue. Should have seen their faces." He chuckled at the memory. "You were jealous," he said with a smirk.
"No," she denied - a little too quickly. "I just didn't want to disturb you."
"Uh huh! You were jealous."
"Whatever House."
House looked at her as she rested her head back on the couch. He still hadn't figured out what was changed with her. Why had she stopped commenting on his pain medication? Where was the judgement? He finally decided to ask her.
"I read your file when you were in coma. Wanted to be sure that I hadn't missed anything. I can't believe I never read the surgeon's notes, never really understood your pain."
"You pity me," he filled in. That was all this was. Pity. He didn't want her pity.
"No. No, damnit. I just want to…to be a better friend to you." That was the last thing he wanted them to be. "House. I am sorry for all those times I ignored your pain or took a jab at it. I should have noticed. I should have done something. I -"
"I thought you were learning strategies to deal with the guilt," he reminded her. He didn't care what had happened in the past. She smiled and leaned into him. She rested her head on his shoulder. "You have a headache." He could massage it. He just wanted to do something for her. He wanted to be there for her like she was always there for him.
"Yep. I am hungry. Make me mac and cheese?" she asked. House looked at her. This was the second reference she had made towards their past this week. Why? Did she want to talk about it? He nodded. She smiled. Her kid woke up then and she went to attend to her. House moved to the kitchen. He rested his cane against the counter and started looking for the ingredients.
His week had been better than the past ones. His dad had not been his dad, just like he had suspected. His mom wasn't happy with him but that wasn't a surprise. Wilson was back in his life. They had decided to bury the past. And Cuddy. He was in her home, cooking for her. She hadn't thrown him out. She was trying to understand his pain. He didn't want her to. He never wanted her to feel his pain. But she was the one he wanted to talk to about it.
He wondered if he should tell her that he was considering talking to a therapist. He had thought about it for a long time but then his leg happened. His experience with the psychiatrist who wanted to discuss his 'pain' was not very pleasant. His anger and Stacy's betrayal encouraged him to avoid the shrinks. And then everyone started telling him that his pain was psychosomatic. It wasn't. He was missing a large chunk of his quadriceps. Maybe some part of it was psychosomatic but not all. He was afraid that if he went to a shrink, his friends would take this as a sign of his acceptance and cut him off the pain meds. He needed them to function. Neither Cuddy, nor Wilson had any idea on how bad the pain could get.
House put the baking dish in the oven as Cuddy walked back into the room with the baby. "She just needs to be held," she told him. House nodded and looked away. He shouldn't be here. He had no business being near a kid. He knew the statistics. He couldn't be near a child. He shouldn't be near a child. Cuddy should have thrown him out.
"House?" Cuddy spoke. He looked at her. She looked worried. Good. She should be.
"I should go," he said. He picked up his cane and prepared to leave.
"Wait," Cuddy said. "What happened?" House avoided looking at her but she walked to stand in front of him. "House. What's wrong?" He didn't answer. The kid was looking at him. House looked away. "Are you afraid of Rachel?" House looked at her. "Talk to me."
"You know the statistics," he told her. He saw confusion in her eyes but it was gone soon.
"You aren't going to hurt her."
"You don't know that."
"Yes. Yes, I do."
"I punched Chase. I told you -"
"When you were being forced to detox. You were in pain."
"I am always in pain."
"And yet, you don't do those things always."
House looked away. Cuddy was bouncing the kid, trying to soothe her. He wanted to leave but he also wanted to stay. Did she really trust him to that extent? Would she really trust him with her kid? "Would you leave her alone with me?" he asked her.
"How about next Saturday? If you don't have a patient, come at around ten. I will be back before one." Holy fuck! She would actually trust him with her kid. "Do you want to hold her?" she asked. House looked at her, staring into her eyes and looking for some hesitation or doubt. There was none. She really did trust him. Why? He walked to the dining table and sat on the chair. She walked with him and once he was seated, handed him the baby. House looked at the kid - at Rachel. She was looking at him.
The oven beeped and Cuddy brought them plates and the dish. House put Rachel in the swing that was already in the room. "You would really leave me alone in your home?" he asked. She grinned.
"When have I ever been able to hide something from you," she quipped. House smirked at her and served himself the mac and cheese. "So? Will you be here next Saturday?" House looked at her and then at Rachel. He nodded. "Good."
"I don't want to be like him," he said.
"You are not," Cuddy said. "You are the most incredible man I've ever known. You are always gonna be the most incredible man I have ever known."
House looked at her, surprised at her confession. She was looking at him with confidence. She had no doubts about what she had just said. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to hold her in his arms and kiss her. No. She deserved better. She deserved someone whole. She deserved someone who wasn't crippled.
"Tell me about your patient this week," Cuddy said. So, he did. He told her about the adopted kid who had gone to China to find her birth parents. He told her how her biological father had put needles in her head. Cuddy was horrified - truthfully House had been too.
"Dr. Cuddy," House said as he walked into PPTH. "Fancy seeing you here." She rolled her eyes at him and checked her watch.
"You are three hours late," she told him. A slight tilt of her head told him to follow her. He frowned but followed her. "Stacy is officially back," she told him. He nodded. "Tell me if you need something." He opened his mouth but shut it back at her glare. He liked riling her up; liked how her eyes shined with passion. She left him and he watched her rear. Grinning to himself, he jabbed the elevator button and went up to his office.
Stacy was waiting in his office while the team was in the conference room. House wanted to ignore her. He wanted to run away but he couldn't run. The reminder hurt. All his life, running was his release and he couldn't do that anymore. He walked into his office.
"Greg."
"I already told Cuddy anything I have to say," he told her.
"Thank you." House looked at Stacy in surprise. "This is the first time you have actually told me what you feel. Thank you." He rolled his eyes. He hadn't told her. He had told Cuddy. He was about to reply when there was a knock on the door between his office and conference room.
Cuddy.
He opened the door. "Got you a patient," she said. "Sorry Stacy. The conversation will have to wait." Stacy nodded and excused herself. House followed Cuddy to the conference room. Foreman was sitting at one end of the table. Thirteen sat to his right and Taub to his left. Kutner sat to Thirteen's right.
"Thirty-five-year-old woman with fever, severe joint pain, a rash, and unexplained weight loss," Cuddy said. "Initial bloodwork shows elevated inflammatory markers but no clear infection. X-rays reveal joint inflammation but no bone abnormalities." She handed over the files to them. House went through the pages. He looked at his team.
"Systemic Lupus Erythematosus," Foreman suggested. House glared at him. For someone who had worked the longest with him, he really acted dumb sometimes. It's never lupus. "It often presents with low-grade fever. Joint pain and arthritis are common too."
"It's never lupus," House snarled. "How long have you worked here?"
"Rheumatoid arthritis," Kutner suggested. House nodded.
"Check the rheumatoid factor," he told the younger doctor.
"ESR for inflammation," Thirteen put forward her thoughts.
House nodded at her too. "Start with NSAIDs and acetaminophen for pain and fever. And prednisone to manage severe inflammation. Dr. Sunshine, do your test. Lucky number, do yours. Drs. Lupus and Bland, go talk to the family." They all rolled their eyes and got up to follow his orders.
"You know you could be a little nice to them," Cuddy commented.
"You know you could have given me the file downstairs," House retorted. She smirked and walked away from him. House followed her with his eyes. God, she was beautiful. He decided to go bother Wilson.
"Stacy is back," House commented as he barged into Wilson's office.
"Hello to you too, House. I am fine. Thank you for asking. How are you?"
House rolled his eyes. "Stacy is back."
"I know. I met her. How are you feeling about it?"
House had no intention of repeating the same thing he had told Cuddy but he did give Wilson the truth. He hadn't forgiven her. He didn't know if he could. But he didn't want her to suffer with him anymore. "That is progress, House." He grunted. Ten years to stop wanting to make her suffer. "Oh! And Cuddy told me that you have been following a proper schedule with Vicodin. How's the pain?"
"Same. Except I don't take a pill every time it increases."
"You are doing the right thing, House."
House grunted.
"Bowling on Friday?"
He couldn't meet on Friday. Actually, he could but he didn't want to. He had made an appointment with Dr. Ethan Bennett, psychiatrist in Trenton. But he didn't want Wilson to know. He trusted Wilson and he could guess Wilson's reaction if he told him what he had told Cuddy. He also knew that Wilson would want to talk and he didn't want to. Cuddy hadn't tried to talk, he remembered. She had heard his unasked request.
"House?" Wilson spoke again.
"How about Thursday?" House asked. "Have a PT session on Friday." He was not entirely lying. He did do some PT to maintain his posture and gait, and improve muscle strength. Just not on Friday.
Wilson nodded. "Is it helping?" he asked. House shrugged. His leg would never be better, no matter what he did.
His patient deteriorated and the test results showed nothing. House ordered an MRI to get a more comprehensive view of the joint and soft tissue abnormalities. He wanted biopsies too, which brought him to Cuddy's office.
"Two invasive procedures are too much for the patient," Cuddy objected. "The bone marrow biopsy is particularly painful and carries significant risks."
"She is deteriorating. We need answers. Test shows nothing. X-ray shows nothing. I doubt the MRI will show something we don't already know."
"Subjecting the patient to multiple invasive procedures without a strong justification raises ethical concerns. We need to prioritize the patient's well-being and avoid unnecessary harm."
"Let me dumb it down for you. I don't do the test, she dies. That would be more ethically wrong."
"Biopsy the rash. Then we'll talk about the further steps."
House shook his head and walked out of her office, ordering his team to biopsy the rash. He went home a little pissed off at her. She always said no. But he admired her too. Her concerns were legitimate, he knew that. House banged his hand on the kitchen counter, frustrated by his mixed emotions towards her. He massaged his thigh, thinking about Friday. He was nervous. Would you believe that? Dr. Gregory House was nervous. He scoffed.
As he had expected the rash biopsy told them nothing. The patient was now experiencing shortness of breath and cough. He handed the file to Cuddy next morning. "Negative for antibodies for autoimmune. Negative for bacteria, fungi or virus. She needs the bone marrow biopsy." Cuddy nodded, resigned and glaring him for his glee at being proven right. He called his team. "Start broad-term antibiotics to clear out infection and get a bone marrow biopsy." He sent Foreman and Thirteen to check the patient's home.
"We found mold at home," Foreman said as they all sat in conference room for another differential.
"No response to antibiotics," Taub mentioned. "The rash is spreading. Elevated liver enzymes."
"How about sarcoidosis?" Thirteen asked. "Rash, joint pain, liver involvement, respiratory symptoms."
"No granulomas on biopsy," Kutner said. "The respiratory symptoms could be because of the mold toxicity. Mold exposure could have exacerbated respiratory symptoms." House looked at him sharply. "What did I say?
House walked to the whiteboard and wrote down the symptoms. Fever. Shortness of breath. Wheezing. Elevated liver enzymes. Fatigue. Joint pain. Weight loss. Rash. He looked back at the time. "Come on. Say it," he encouraged them. They were looking at him blank. "It's AATD," House told them, frustrated. Why were they slow?
"Alpha-1 Antitrypsin Deficiency," Foreman spoke. He thought about it. "It does fit."
"Of course, it does," House said. "Test for Alpha-1 antitrypsin levels and genetic testing to confirm AATD," he ordered. "Corticosteroids to manage inflation. Oxygen therapy and antifungal treatment. And tell her to find a new home. And check her kid too."
The team hurried to follow his orders and he released a satisfied breath. Another case solved.