House was still smiling when he entered Bennet's office. Cuddy had just sent him a text. Thirteen with Wilson, Foreman with Stacy (she had told Wilson, who had told him) and Cameron with Cuddy - the ducklings had made good pairs. It had been useless though - Wilson or Stacy didn't know about his and Cuddy's entire history and Cuddy would never tell. I described you as sweet and caring, which you were but they would never make the connection. House chuckled. This was fun.
"Hello, Dr. House. You seem to be in a good mood," Bennet said as House settled down.
"My team - both current and ex - are trying to find out about my relationship with my boss," House told him.
"And is there a relationship?"
"There was," House told him. "Twenty years ago." House told about his history with Cuddy. He had confidentiality here. "I should have called her. But - it was like waking up from a dream. I had screwed it up and I would have screwed it up by staying."
"Did your father tell you that?" Bennet asked.
"Among other things. Guy liked to talk a lot." The memories of his father standing over his head and berating him still haunted House.
"What kind of a doctor are you, Dr. House?"
House was surprised by the question. He had not expected it and couldn't see the relevance. "I am the head of Diagnostics in Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Double specialty in infectious diseases and nephrology."
"Diagnostics is not a very common department in hospitals, is it?" Bennet asked.
"No," House answered. He still couldn't see where this was going and that frustrated him. "It was her idea. When she hired me, she created the position. At first, it was just me. I ran differentials with her and Wilson - that's my best friend. Later, I got my own team. Other hospitals have tried it but it never really works as well for them."
"So, you have a double specialty, run a department like no one else can. Would you describe that as screw-up?"
House thought about that. "I have no social life."
"You have at least two friends. Your team is obviously close enough to you to want to explore your past relationship. You are not screwed-up, Dr. House. What happened in Michigan was a tragedy. Have you told your reasons to your boss?"
House nodded, still thoughtful. "I told her last Saturday. She had asked me to babysit her kid while she went to her shrink." Even that bewildered him. "She had no problem leaving me alone with her kid."
"Why should she?"
"The statistics."
"Statistics don't define you, Dr. House. They define no one." House looked away. "Did you mention your doubts to her?" He nodded. "And she told you that she didn't believe in the statistics?" House nodded again. You are the most incredible man I've ever known. You are always gonna be the most incredible man I have ever known. "Do you believe her?"
House shrugged at that. "I want to. There is no one I trust more. She is my medical proxy." House massaged his leg. "My last proxy gave me bum leg."
"That is a big step - for you to trust her," Bennet pointed out. He was right. House knew that it bothered Wilson a bit that House had chosen Cuddy and not him, but House couldn't bring himself to change it. "Trust her on this too, Dr. House. She obviously knows you."
"I want to," House said. He really did. "I asked her to bring the kid to my place tomorrow," House told Bennet.
"That's a good idea. You are doing well, Dr. House. You should be proud of yourself. And it's okay if your doubt doesn't go away in a day. You are fighting your life-long belief. This will take time." House looked away, not knowing how to respond. "So, your team wants to know about your relationship with your boss?"
House smiled without meaning too. He talked about his team, both current and previous. He told how they were working to figure stuff out. That of course led to talking about Stacy and his pain. "I don't want to talk about it," House said. He didn't trust this man and his pain was even more personal that his childhood.
"Alright Dr. House," Bennet said, surprising House.
"That's it. Aren't shrinks supposed to force people to talk?" House asked. Why would he be excused from talking about something?
"We'll talk about it when you are ready, Dr. House. Right now, it is just about building trust."
"So what?" House asked, suddenly frustrated. "You want to talk about her all the time."
"You want to talk about her. I want to talk about whatever you wish to talk. You are in control here, Dr. House." House looked away frustrated. "Have you ever played a sport?"
"Lacrosse." He looked away. He had always enjoyed running and then it had been taken away. Ketamine had given him some relief but then even it had failed.
"The coach did not play, did he? It's the same here. The coach might not be in the game, but they're always on the sidelines, guiding and supporting. You're the one who will be playing, making the moves, and facing the challenges. I will be just on the sidelines. Take it one day at a time, Dr. House. And remember, you're not alone in this."
House stood up. "We'll see," he told Bennet, and walked out of the office. He refused to feel hopeful. Too many things had failed in the past. There was no way to prove that this wouldn't. He sat in his car for a few minutes, thinking about the session. You are in control here. He was never in control in his childhood. Everything happened how John House wanted it to happen. He had protested at first but it had been futile. He had tried to have the control when he left his father's house but that obviously hadn't worked well. He massaged his thigh, trying to remember what it had been like to not feel this pain.
His phone buzzed. It was a message from Wilson. They had agreed to meet the next evening but apparently Wilson had three critical patients. House grimaced. It was going to be a tough day for Wilson. His mind went to his own plans for the next day. What had caused him to invite Rachel to his apartment? He knew the answer, of course. He wanted to introduce the kid to music.
House started his car and drove to a mall. If he was going to babysit a kid in his apartment, he needed some essentials first. He bought a pack and play with a removable bassinet for the kid and also a teddy bear dressed in scrubs. Cuddy had told him she would bring a bag with diapers, baby bottles and formula milk. She had also told him that she would leave the baby seat, in case he needed to take Rachel somewhere. House was sure it wouldn't come to that.
He arrived home and ordered a pizza. He set down to assemble the pack and play. Where should he put it? He wanted it somewhere near the piano but a child near the fireplace was not a good idea. He finally placed it near the recliner, deciding to wheel it when he would play for her. House didn't normally play in front of an audience but if there would ever be an exception, it would be a Cuddy.
As the night passed, House began to question himself. What if Cuddy didn't like the idea of him playing to her daughter? What if Cuddy didn't like that he had bought a pack and play for her daughter? What if Rachel hated all of it? What if she didn't stop crying? He paced in his apartment with his doubts following him in every step. As confident he was in his medical prowess, House never trusted himself with anything else. Sure, he could find the most peculiar diseases but that's all he was useful for. He was a terrible friend - he killed his best friend's girlfriend after all.
He didn't know what to do. Maybe he could call Wilson. And tell him what, his mind asked. Hey! I am babysitting Rachel tomorrow and I brought a pack and play and now I am panicking. House knew he could tell all of this to his friend but he didn't want to. Wilson would try to fix it, or offer some advice and as stupid as it sounded in his head, House wanted to do this by himself. He wanted to be the man who could deserve Cuddy and he wanted to get there without his best friend's help.
You are just a failure. House flinched as he remembered his father's words. You will never amount to anything. You will always be a failure. House rubbed his temple, trying to push the words away. He could do this. He would do this. He had already done this before. But it had been at Cuddy's place, his mind reminded him. Rachel had been familiar to the house, to the rooms.
You are the most incredible man I've ever known. You are always gonna be the most incredible man I have ever known.
Cuddy's words echoed in his mind. He examined those words as if they were gold. He clung to them, using them as a shield against his father's harsh words. She trusted him. She believed in him. House would do it. For her. For Rachel. He kept repeating those words till his doorbell rang next morning. Cuddy was here.
House opened the door. As expected, Cuddy stood there with a bag in her left hand and the baby seat in her right. Rachel was peacefully sleeping in the baby seat. House moved aside to let them in, reaching to take the bag from Cuddy.
"There is formula milk and bottles, diapers and also two sets of clothes, in case she needs a change," Cuddy told him, walking into the apartment. Her eyes settled on the pack-and-play and she stared at it. The teddy bear was near it on the recliner. House felt his pulse quicken as she took in all of that. She turned to him and he noticed how her eyes were shining. "Thank you," she whispered. "Do you want me to put her in the bassinet?" House shrugged. Cuddy took Rachel out of her car seat and gently put her in the bassinet. House put the bag on the couch. "Be good for House," she whispered to the kid.
"She is six-weeks old," House pointed out. "I think she needs to be a little older to be good and bad for anyone."
Cuddy gave him a mock glare before walking to him. "Thank you for doing this." He nodded, having no idea how to respond to it. "I will bring Chinese for lunch?" she asked.
"Moo Shu chicken and pancakes," House told her. "Extra pancakes." She smiled at him and leaned in to kiss his cheek again. House stood rooted as she left with a bye. He shook himself out of it and walked to the kid. She was still asleep. "Your mom's trouble," House told the kid. He sat on the recliner, taking the bear in his hands. He didn't remember having a toy in his childhood. His father had considered it as a sign of weakness. He started reading a medical journal but his eyes kept wandering to the kid. House took time to observe her. She was dressed in a onesie with footed-pyjamas and a hat. She was also wearing a sweater. House reached to check her pulse. It was steady. She was a strong kid.
Rachel woke up around noon. House fed her, talking to her about random things. She was looking at him and following his movements. House smiled genuinely. Good. Cuddy was obviously a very attentive mom, not that he had expected something else from her. He felt a weird connection with her. He felt weird. He was not the diagnostician who solved the most peculiar of cases. He was a man taking care of his — of Cuddy's daughter.
Feeding was followed by a diaper change. After that, House wheeled the pack-and-play to near the piano. He sat on the bench and started playing gentle music, alternating between Mozart and Bach, and some soft jazz. She was reacting to the music, turning her head towards the piano. House played for a while, thinking about Rachel and, by extension, Cuddy. Without him meaning too, his hands began to play his own composition. He had written it ages ago, after what had happened in Michigan. It had everything into it - how things were, how he wanted them to be; his hopes and fears and everything in between.
Cuddy's serenade.
He stopped, thinking about her throaty laugh, her sparkling eyes, her sense of humour and her unwavering support. Rachel cooed, drawing his attention to herself. "Did you like that?" House asked the kid. "I wrote it about twenty years ago. For your mom. Do you think she'll like it?" Would he play it for her?
The doorbell rang at that moment. "Your mom's here," he told the kid. Her eyes were already drooping a little. It was close to one. Cuddy was late, obviously picking up their food on her way back. He heaved himself off the piano bench and limped to the door without his cane. Cuddy was there, waving the bag of food. "I got food," she said, handing him the bag.
"Did you get the extra pancakes?" he asked, letting her in.
"Yes," she replied. House nodded, locking the door before turning to her. She was looking at the pack-and-play. "Were you playing for her? I have never heard you play piano."
"She talks less than you," House told her.
She glared at him before picking up Rachel from the bassinet. Settling comfortably on the couch, she rocked the kid. House limped to the kitchen and brought plates. There was no way Lisa Cuddy would eat directly from the box. He walked back into the living room. Cuddy was completely engrossed. Her eyes didn't leave Rachel. She looked beautiful. House set the food onto the coffee table and dragged the pack-and-play nearer to the two Cuddys. "Thanks," she mouthed but continued to rock Rachel, till the kid fell asleep. She gently placed her daughter into the bassinet, before going to clean up.
"She didn't give you any trouble, did she?" Cuddy asked, sitting down again and serving herself. House rolled his eyes at her actions and stuffed his mouth, exaggerating his motions to annoy her. She shook her head at him.
"How was the shrink?" House asked.
"Good. Insightful," she answered.
House contemplated on whether or not he should tell her about his own shrink. He was sure she had figured it out. He hadn't exactly been subtle with his 'you said the shrink helped'. But she hadn't brought it up, just like she hadn't brought up his father. She never asked questions, just listened.
"I am seeing a shrink myself. Friday 5 PM," House told her. He focused on his food, but he could feel her eyes on him.
"Thank you for telling me, House," she said.
"You already knew," he said, his eyes still on his food.
"Yes."
"I don't want anyone else to know."
"I won't tell them."
"Wilson thinks I am going for PT."
"Okay. I will keep that in mind."
House looked at her. He was annoyed now. "Aren't you even a bit curious?" he asked her. She just kept accepting everything. She was supposed to ask questions. She was supposed to demand answers.
"Of course, I am," she answered. "But I am not going to force you to give me answers you don't want to. This isn't the hospital and you aren't my employee. You are my friend. If you want to tell me, I will listen but if you don't, then that's okay too." She was giving him space. She was just there. She considered him her friend. "You didn't ask me about my shrink," Cuddy reminded him.
"You threatened to make Foreman my boss," House answered back. She laughed her throaty laugh. He looked at her - her eyes shining with humour and her lips -
He wanted to kiss her, House realized. He looked away. He didn't want this thing between them to end. He was screwed up. He had hurt her in the past and he would probably hurt her again. He was an insane choice for someone with a kid. You are the most incredible man I've ever known. You are always gonna be the most incredible man I have ever known. Her words echoed in his mind. They were becoming his lifeline these days, a shield against his father's memory.
"Have you figured out what your ducklings want by now?" Cuddy asked.
"Oh! I did," House assured her. "Foreman went to Stacy too. Although she didn't even listen to his question." Cuddy nodded, her face a little closed off. House eyed her but continued, "Cameron wanted to know about your ex-boyfriends. Thirteen wanted to know if we were together at Michigan. I think they have a bet on whether or not we did it in the past."
"I still can't believe you never told Wilson," she said.
"If I told him, he wouldn't shut up about it."
"Can you imagine his face if he finds out?" She was laughing now. He looked away, not sure whether he should kiss her or not. He started clearing the table - anything to do other than sit here and imagine kissing her. She started helping him.
"I got this," he snapped.
"I know. But I am hoping that if I do this, you would play me the piano."
House looked at her. She was pouting slightly but there was humour in her eyes. She was happy. House nodded and she grinned. She took the plates from him and carried it to the kitchen. House went to the piano. He gave it a pat and sat on the bench, waiting for her. He started playing slow jazz.
Cuddy joined him soon. She wheeled Rachel so the kid was nearer to the piano, and sat next to him on the bench. "You could sit there," House told her, pointing towards the couch.
"I want to sit here," she told him. House looked at her. This wasn't Cuddy. This was Lisa. The Lisa he remembered from Michigan. His Lisa. House looked at her and then focused on the piano. His fingers moved and the piano sang to her. He put in everything. All his feelings, everything he had never said, everything he wanted for them, everything he was sure they couldn't have.
"Was that an original composition?" she asked, once he had stopped playing.
House nodded. "I wrote it after Michigan," he told her.
The implication wasn't lost on her. "Does it have a name?" she asked softly.
"Cuddy's serenade."
She was quiet for a few minutes and House risked a glance at her. She was looking at him, her eyes as open as he had ever seen. They were shining with unshed tears. As their eyes met, Cuddy Lisa leaned forwards and pressed her lips to his.