Chapter 3 - Goodbye, babe
.
Adviser: Normal printing for present time (set in Season 4). Bold and Italic writing (also stressed by the symbol #) for House/Cuddy's memories from 80's.
.
The silence in the CT room is surreal, like if the three people in there are keeping their breath. Well, Cuddy surely is.
"Here"
Foreman's voice breaks the silence as the images begin to appear on the screen.
Cuddy's eyes follow Foreman's index, and she bites hard on her lower lip, nodding and turning between her fingers the elastic band which tied her pony tail till a second before. She stares at House's brain. One of the brightest and most exceptional brain in the world, now just in a plain white and black image on a screen.
"No extradural hemmorage," she whispers, like she's talking to herself rather than asking for confirmation to the neurologist. The minor fracture of the temporal bone is visible, but there're no signs of intracranial bleeding, brain oedema or, of what she fears mostly... transtentorial herniation.
"Nor subdural or intraparenchymal hematoma," Wilson adds, arm-crossed, bending down over Foreman's shoulder to have a better look.
"Yeah, it's clean" Foreman confirms, turning his head to meet his boss' look, standing behind him.
He doesn't succeed though, and he just exchanges a glance with Wilson instead. Cuddy's gaze is focused beyond the glass wall, apparently fixed on House's bare legs, the only part of him coming out of the CT machine. She's clearly not really looking at them but just thinking, looking inside her own brain for an answer she can't find.
"What's on your mind?" Foreman asks as Cuddy doesn't turn to look at him.
"A diffuse axonal injury? "
The question exits from her mouth in a quiver, betraying her anxiety despite her firm posture.
Foreman shakes his head as Cuddy catches sight of the neurologist's move, reflected in the glass wall.
"He's conscious and he has no signs of intracranial hypertension... no nausea or vomiting nor seizures. He just has headache, drowsiness and confusion... common symptoms after-"
This time Cuddy sighs so hard that Foreman gives a start, then she turns toward him, giving him a piercing look.
"He's not confused, Foreman! His speech isn't slurred at all! I know retrograde amnesia and transitory anterograde amnesia are common after such a traumatic brain injury, but he didn't just erase the accident from his memory or the day before it. His mind erased TWO DECADES!"
Foreman just stares at Cuddy as she runs a hand on her forehead, closing her eyes and then opening them again to look at him.
"So...you two really had a relationship?" Foreman asks, out of the blue, like someone who hasn't heard a word of her speech "A love one or... er... or just a sexual one?"
He regrets that question as soon as it exits his lips
"How this can be of any relevance, Dr. Foreman?" She replies in a firm tone, slowly articulating this sentence, specifying every single word "Unless you're thinking it's neurosyphilis, something obviously isn't since his VDRL is negative"
The silence which follows is almost more embarrassing than Foreman's question.
"Well, it's just that...you and House... House and you... it's, well... " Wilson stammers in an attempt to save the situation, but just complicating it even more (if it's somehow possible).
Cuddy just stares at Wilson as he stands in front of her, his hands in the pockets of his trousers. She gives him an annoyed loud sigh, looking at him straight in the eye.
"I'm a woman. He's a man. What's that difficult to comprehend, Wilson? Do you want me to make a drawing?"
Wilson shakes his head, giving her an awkward look, but she isn't looking at him anymore. She gives a glance at House's legs again and she just heads to the door.
"It's a post-concussion syndrome, Cuddy" Foreman says before she leaves. She stops, her hand still on the handle but she doesn't turn back "Post-traumatic amnesia should last less than a week" He adds as Cuddy just slightly nods, again not turning to look at him.
"Have you ever seen House that nice? Maybe we should just enjoy it while it last"
Probably that comment was supposed to sound funny, to lighten the tension in the room, but Foreman is definitely not good at it.
.
.
The cafeteria is silent on Sunday morning... less personnel on duty, less patients waiting for scheduled appointments. It's something good since the swirling of thoughts into Cuddy's mind is noisy enough.
"Dr Cuddy?"
Cuddy looks at the nurse who timidly approached her, just standing a couple of steps from her as Cuddy hands a bill to the woman behind the counter, reaching in turn for her coffee. She looks at the paper cup, but she doesn't take a sip, just savouring the heat warming her palm as the nurse stares at her, probably wondering if it has been a good move to bother her boss. The Dean is clearly not on call today. Well, no boss is on call on Sunday, unless it's an emergency. Tomorrow she'll probably be in one of her power suits again, but ... how can she look intimidating even in a white T-shirt and jeans?
Cuddy doesn't speak, just waiting for the young woman to speak instead.
"I was in Dr. House's room," the nurse finally begins, though stopping, like trying to find the right words in front of the hospital administrator "I know it's not of my business but... er... is he fired?
Cuddy's eyes open wide, giving her a very questioning look.
"What?"
Nurse Ann's mouth opens in a O-shape, looking at Dr. Cuddy as she puts a few coins in the pocket of her jeans, not averting her eyes from her though.
"Sorry, Dr. Cuddy," she awkwardly says, shaking her head "like I said, not of my business" she says again, emphasizing those words with a raise of a hand "Sorry if I bothered you, doctor"
Cuddy looks at the nurse as the young lady hesitates for a few seconds and then turns to leave.
"Wait"
The nurse freezes and turns toward Cuddy again.
"Why do you think this?"
She hesitates.
"Er... I'm not sure if Dr. House was awake, or if he was having a sort of nightmare honestly, but... he said, well... he said... 'fucking Dean'," she gives Cuddy an apologizing look, like if she's worried she can be punished for having repeated those insulting words to the Dean in person. She looks down and then at her again "and... 'I'm out',"
Cuddy just holds her gaze, her lips turn in a thin line and she swallows.
... Yeah, fucking Dean...
# A shiver awakes her. The sheet is not enough for her naked body and she wraps it more around herself. For a moment she thinks it's been just a sex dream but the pillow still smells of his shaving balm. She closes her eyes again... she needs to sleep... her anatomy test is in a few hours. #
Cuddy watches the nurse as she timidly takes her leave with an excuse.
# She feels lighter as the sun warms her face and she holds her books tightly against her chest. They made her suffer so much in the past days that burning them crosses her mind for a second, but there is no way she can "hurt" a book. And there's someone she needs to thank instead. She looks around but there's none waiting on the bench in the campus park. Maybe she should be disappointed but she is too relieved for bad feelings right now. #
A bitter smile curls up Cuddy's lips as that thought crosses her mind, but it's just a second before it's replaced with a lump in her throat.
...Yeah, fucking Dean... and fucking House.
# The seat behind her is empty. No one is blowing on the back of her neck to distract her from the lesson... none is tapping his pencil on the desk, distracting her from taking notes... none is annoying her anymore... He can't be found anywhere... #
... fucking Dean...I'm out...
Yeah, 'out'. Out of medical school and out of her life.
Cuddy knew about that. About how House had been expelled from his first med school. At first she had thought he was just avoiding her. A one-night stand and there goes. No promises. No expectations. Just that. Then rumors had run along the campus hallways till the desks of her class, and to be honest, none had been that surprised he had had his ass kicked.
What she didn't know was...
...'I'm sorry I didn't call you...
Cuddy closes her eyes, running a hand on her forehead as those words come back to her mind, together with the sensation of House's thumb caressing her hand and his eyes piercing hers.
Was House really going to call her? Maybe to come and see her either?
It's like the pieces of a puzzle finally come into their place.
... You're here...
... I-I'm sorry I didn't call you...
... We- we ok then?...
... May 13th ...
Yeah, May 13th. But a lot of calendars had been thrown in the garbage since that one 'May 13th'.
.
.
House's eyes follow Foreman's finger.
Up. Down. Right. Left.
"It's good, House. Good"
"Good?" House repeats, emphasizing the questioning tone of that word "My eyes aren't good, they're fabulous, bros"
Foreman stares at him as the hint of a smile curls up the corners of his lips. House's humor is definitely a good sign. His loss of memory is the puzzle to solve instead. Apparently there's nothing in his CT which can explain it, but brain's always a mystery. He still thinks it's a post-concussion syndrome and that it's a transitory state, but it's clear that a man who got half his life erased from his mind is a case which needs an attentive monitoring.
"Rest," The neurologist says still staring at House, then writing down something and closing the folder "Whatever it is we're gonna take you back in 2008, House"
House's gaze follows Foreman's walk till he disappears beyond the door, replaced instead by another white-coat. Wilson just looks from his friend to Foreman, then shaking his head and letting out a chuckle.
He points a finger toward House, rhythmically moving it up and down like to say something, but he doesn't speak till he's by the bed.
"You know he'd leave you back in 1989 gladly, right?" Wilson says, referring to the neurologist, as House smirks.
"To run my department?" He asks, even if it's clearly a rhetorical question "It's ok for me, if I can have the run of the Dean's body instead".
"So... you and Cuddy? Did you two really -...?" He awkwardly asks "I mean... what was it? A one-night-stand? Or..?"
Wilson doesn't finish the sentence, just letting it hanging as House holds his gaze, raising both his eyebrows.
"Wasn't you supposed to be my best friend?" House asks as Wilson's eyes speak in his place.
It's obvious Wilson never heard about him and Lisa. Why is he so surprised? From the summary his team (whoa! He's a renowned diagnostician with his own team!) made him about the last years of his (unknown) life, he's nothing more than a miserable, grumpy guy who doesn't share his feelings with anyone. No wife (nor a girlfriend either!). No friend, except for Wilson. Honestly, except for being one of the best doctor of the Country, he hasn't concluded a lot in his life.
So, well, what had it been between him and Lisa? Nothing more than a one night stand, according to the events which followed. He can remember the Dean's call and himself packaging his stuff in an instance of anger, then leaving the campus and rashly getting on the first available bus. Nothing more. It's the last thing he can remember. But he was going to call her. He surely was going to call her...
# The dim light coming from the half-open curtain illuminates her white skin in the darkness of the room. He runs his free hand on his face and turns his head toward the still-made bed on the other side of the room. It looks like Lisa's roommate is having fun too tonight. It's probably 3, at most 4 am. He can't tell, since his watch is on the arm trapped under Lisa's body. His fingers have pins and needles and the limb is definitely numb, but he definitely doesn't care. And he cares even less about the frozen feet coming out from a too short blanket. After having run after her for a full semester there is not another place he wants to be. Not that he's going to admit it anyway. Better for everyone to think they just casually meet here and there along the hallways. He's not ready to lose his reputation. Not yet. But her scent... he can lose himself in her scent. There is something in this girl that makes him lose his mind.
She slightly moves in his arms and he takes advantage of it to free his arm from under her shoulder. A heavy insensitive arm which hurts like hell as soon as blood comes back to a normal circulation. Well, if there is blood enough to revitalize his limb, since a large amount of it has just flowed into a much lower part of his body at the bare rub of Lisa's backside against his groin! He resists the idea of waking her up for a third round, and instead he just puts an arm around her body, inhaling her scent once again as her curls tickle his nose. She's going to have her anatomy exam in a few hours, and he has already worn out her enough. He smiles to himself at that thought and at the thought she is hardly forgetting the twelve cranial nerves after the lesson he gave her on last night. He places a soft kiss on her shoulder, then slowly leaving the bed. He gives her once more glance as he picks up his clothes from the floor, careful not to awake her.
Is it a smile the one forming on his own lips?
"Goodnight, babe" he whispers as he closes the door, welcomed by the fresh air of a spring night. #
"Is it what Lisa said?" House asks after a few second of silence, this time staring at the door before meeting Wilson's look again. Wilson can't help but blushing and he runs a hand in his hair.
Yeah, once again he forgot that, in this decade, people isn't used to hear Cuddy's first name from his mouth.
Cuddy.
Well, technically Lisa Cuddy is right about their one-night-stand. There had been only one night. But he wouldn't describe it as just a one night stand. A crush rather. And honestly a bad one for a guy like him. Something he wasn't used to. There was something in her he couldn't be indifferent at... and it was something more than her long curls and gorgeous ass.
House sighs and closes his eyes as a grimace of pain appears on his face.
"You ok?" Wilson asks as his look moves on the monitor near the bed.
"Like I broke my head" House replies in a murmur.
Wilson just touches House's shoulder (something that is allowed with the 1989-House) remembering him again that he needs to rest.