where oh where?

[dr_j_wilson]

Who: Wilson, House, tagging Cuddy
Where: Cuddy’s home
What: Cuddy has gone missing and House and Wilson try to track her down. Continued from here.
When: Wednesday, 10th of May. Afternoon.

Comments

[dr_gregoryhouse]

The moment he heard the door open, followed by Cuddy’s voice, House felt relief flood through him. And that visibly showed when he actually saw her -- saw that Cuddy was okay. House let out a long, quiet sigh and his shoulders sagged in relief; he hadn’t realized just how worried he’d been until right at that moment. House glanced at Wilson and then looked back to Cuddy again.

House wanted to ask if she was alright. But that wasn’t a question House tended to ask people, no matter who they were or their situation. And he knew that if he did ask that, she’d brush him off -- and, perhaps, she’d been unnerved by it, seeing that wasn’t a characteristic thing for House to say. He didn’t want Cuddy to merely brush them off -- he actually wanted to know if she really was alright. So, he slipped into his usual demeanour, in hopes of keeping some sense of normalcy, considering how worried he’d been.

“We’re Jehovah’s Witnesses, and we’ve come to tell you about the Watchtower,” House replied. But though he sounded sarcastic, there was an undoubted edge of concern in his voice.

He studied Cuddy’s face intensely for a moment before he relented slightly. “I’ve been trying to get in contact with you since yesterday,” House continued, sounding much more genuine this time. Resuming some measure of brusqueness, he added as he gestured to her front door, “You going to let us in, or not?”

[dr_l_cuddy]

"Did it ever occur to you there was a reason I didn't answer your phone calls? Or was that hint a little too subtle for you?"

Cuddy distractedly ran a hand through her hair. This sense of being overwhelmed, of having no control, had jumped up a couple of notches the minute she saw House and Wilson standing on her doorstep. She knew they cared, even if it wasn't always easy to tell in House's case, but she just couldn't deal with the intrusion. She was trying to forget everything, not relive it.

Cuddy wavered for a moment, still holding the door with one hand. Then she threw both hands up and turned down the hall, leaving the door open. She knew they wouldn't leave until they'd satisfied whatever need had brought them here. Well, she might be able to guilt Wilson into leaving, but House would simply make a nuisance of himself until he got what he wanted.

"Please yourself," she said as she walked back to the living room. She made a quick detour into the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the counter. She was going to need it.

"If you want some of this, you'll have to get your own glasses," she said, waving the bottle at House and Wilson as she retrieved her glass from the coffee table in the living room and refilled it. "Wilson knows where they are."

[dr_j_wilson]

The first thing Wilson felt at seeing Cuddy was relief, followed closely by a tiny bit of hurt at her ‘greeting’ and then it was back to being worried again. Because Cuddy was there, intact, sure, but she didn’t seem okay. She seemed annoyed, exhausted, frustrated… angry.

Before he could say anything, House butted in with a sarcastic joke and Wilson gave him a warning look, which seemed to go unnoticed. Not surprisingly. If Cuddy had told them to beat it, Wilson probably would have left at that point. It took a lot for Wilson to push an issue with an anyone. And even then, the only times he usually did was where House was involved. Because, with House, that was often the only way to get through to him.

Whether or not they’d stay was suddenly out of his hands however, as House demanded to know if they were allowed in and then Cuddy walked away without closing the door. Wilson reached out and caught House’s arm, opening his mouth to say something… some kind of warning to tread carefully maybe. However, he changed his mind, shaking his head and letting go again before walking into Cuddy’s home.

Whiskey… well, that wasn’t a good sign. But… if he and House had a glass, maybe there’d be less for Cuddy to imbibe. Not even waiting to see if House actually wanted any or not, Wilson shrugged off his coat, draped it on the back of the couch and went through into the kitchen to retrieve the glasses. For the time, he decided, he was going to keep his mouth shut.

[dr_gregoryhouse]

About to speak, House's attention was diverted to Wilson grabbing a hold of his arm. House looked to him, waiting for whatever it was Wilson was going to say, and frowned impatiently when nothing came. What was Wilson going to say? 'Be nice'? That was likely. Something along those lines, at least. He just passed a silent look back to Wilson as if to communicate that he knew what Wilson was trying to say -- House wasn't here to get on Cuddy's nerves. But he was going to make sure Cuddy was alright. By whatever means possible.

House followed Wilson inside and closed the door behind them, and then headed into the living room. He stood in the middle of the room, while Wilson headed off to the kitchen, turning his eyes towards Cuddy when she started to refill her glass. He watched the way she moved -- how she seemed agitated, uptight, trying not to appear that way at the same time. Obviously trying to keep it together. House wasn't fooled by it, though.

Slowly, he started walking towards Cuddy, motioning to her glass of whiskey. "Might want to go easy on that," he said wryly. He stopped short of her, his eyes darting down to her arm as he caught sight of the bruises.

"What's that?" Without warning, he reached out and seized her elbow in his hand, moving her arm out straight so he could get a better look at the bruises. He was aware she probably didn't want to be touched; he just wanted a closer look at the bruises. Judging from the shape of them, they looked like bruises caused by tightly-gripped fingers. Damn. The guy obviously held her tight. He knew Chase had said she'd not been physically hurt, but now he wasn't so sure, considering these bruises. She didn't seem injured otherwise, but still.

"These the only bruises you've got?" he asked, still clutching her arm -- firmly, but gently -- as he peered down closely at her face.

[dr_l_cuddy]

"Great advice...coming from man who drowns his problems in a bottle of Vicodin," Cuddy muttered under her breath as she set the whiskey bottle down. She understood her own emotional state enough to know that she wanted to lash out at House because, well, it was easier to be angry at him than to deal with all the other emotions she was feeling.

When House grabbed her elbow she thought House had heard her and he'd gotten angry. She almost wished he would. It would give her some way to vent. And if he got angry enough, maybe he'd leave.

But when he touched her, she immediately tensed. A second later she realized he wasn't acting out of anger, his touch was far too gentle to be a threat.

"That's it. I'm fine," Cuddy said stiffly. She forced herself to meet House's gaze. "Can I have my arm back now? Please?"

[dr_j_wilson]

Wilson could hear everything House and Cuddy said from the kitchen. The mention of bruises made him frown as he took two glasses out of one of the overhead cupboards. Walking back out into the living room, Wilson’s eyes went from House, to Cuddy’s arm, to Cuddy’s face. He still didn’t say anything though, not wanting to antagonize Cuddy further. Picking up the whiskey bottle from where Cuddy had left it, Wilson poured a few mouthfuls each into the two glasses.

“House,” Wilson said and held out one of the glasses until House took it. He took a sip of his own and then nursed it against his chest, now looking distinctly uncomfortable. It was impossible to ignore the I-don’t-want-you-here vibes that were coming off Cuddy. A part of Wilson wondered if Cuddy was acting as she was because she was at least a little embarrassed about the whole thing. She’d been proved wrong, after all. If there was anyone who was a contender in the hating-to-be-wrong stakes with House, it’d be Cuddy.

Of course, Wilson didn’t doubt that her feelings also stemmed from much more than mere embarrassment. For a start, Cuddy liked to be in control as much as House did, and her control had been taken away from her by this stalker.

“Is… uh, are you going to lay charges?” Wilson asked hesitantly, because that was at least one thing important enough to be worth asking.

[dr_l_cuddy]

As soon as House released her arm, Cuddy grabbed her glass and settled herself safely on the couch. Safely? She didn't have anything to fear from House and Wilson...except uninvited intrusions into her personal life, of course. Nothing new there.

She tucked her feet under her and took a slow drink from her glass and nodded to Wilson. "Yeah, I pressed charges. Except he's only being arraigned on simple assault for now. Because that was obvious. There were witnesses. The rest...it's only my word against his. But the cop said they would continue investigating."

Right, her word against the sicko stalker wasn't enough, because she had no evidence. Of course, the reason she had no evidence is that she'd wiped her computer of any and all traces of the jerk once she'd learned what he was up to. Why did it seem like every time she did the right thing, she ended up getting the raw end of the deal?

"I got a restraining order, though, in case he still hasn't learned to take no for an answer."

[dr_gregoryhouse]

House had let Cuddy go promptly when she asked him to, though he didn't back away. He stayed standing right where he was, accepting the drink from Wilson, until Cuddy moved away. Then House took a seat on the opposite end of the couch that Cuddy was on, listening to the exchange between Wilson and Cuddy as he set his cane aside.

Restraining order? Simple assault? From what House had been told, the guy had hacked into her computer. Who was to say a restraining order was going to keep the guy away, considering how much he knew about Cuddy?

"But he hacked your computer," House remarked, watching the way Cuddy was sitting huddled in on herself like she was physically trying to protect herself. Obviously, House didn't know that she'd had her computer wiped. "Considering he even knew about me and Chase, he's bound to have left 'cyber fingerprints' on your hard drive."

He paused, peering at her intensely. While Wilson didn't really know what to say, House had no qualms about asking blunt questions or making equally blunt remarks. Not because he didn't care about Cuddy or the fact that she was no doubt feeling extremely vulnerable, but because he wanted to know exactly what happened. Better to get that out of the way first, than draw it out, right?

"This was all getting out of control while you were making out nothing was going on, wasn't it?"

[dr_l_cuddy]

"Correction: there were fingerprints. I had everything related to him wiped from my computer once I found out what he was up to. So I have no proof. Hopefully, the police investigation will turn up something on his computer."

Cuddy put one hand over her eyes and leaned against the back of the sofa. Saying she hoped the police would find something was somewhat misleading. She did want the guy charged, convicted, and imprisoned. But she dreaded the thought of policemen and lawyers, strangers, reading everything that had gone on. Dreaded the thought that these people were going to see just how stupid and pathetic and gullible she'd been.

"What do you want from me?" Cuddy asked when House kept probing. She threw a look at Wilson, silently appealing to him for rescue. But although Wilson didn't look entirely comfortable, he also didn't look like he was going to stop House just yet.

"Do you want me to admit I lied to you? Okay, fine, yes, I lied. So what? Everybody lies, right?" Cuddy tried to sound defiant, but it was a difficult act to pull off when she had to blink hard to hold the tears at bay. "Sometimes lies are easier. Sometimes...sometimes truth is too painful."

[dr_j_wilson]

Wilson sat on the chair next to the couch, closer to Cuddy than to House, as Cuddy replied to his question. The restraining order was at least something, but Wilson had no doubts that if the stalker was motivated enough it wouldn’t do anything for Cuddy’s safety. That Cuddy had deleted all the evidence off her computer wasn’t good news, but surely… the police would find something?

Feeling a sudden need for it, Wilson drank a mouthful of his whiskey, wincing a little at the burn down his throat. Strong stuff. How much had Cuddy already had before they’d arrived?

Catching Cuddy’s look cast his way made Wilson quickly look away again. It wasn’t the appeal for him to stop House that made Wilson uncomfortable though. It was the pain he saw in her eyes. It pressed every one of what House would probably call his ‘messiah complex’ buttons. Was it so wrong to want to take away other people’s pain? Was it wrong that he was good at it? It was practically his job, after all. When he couldn’t save people, he could at least do everything he could to take away their pain.

"Sometimes lies are easier. Sometimes...sometimes truth is too painful."

Wilson gave a strained smile into his whiskey glass. He knew the truth of that all too well. “This isn’t your fault, Cu-…Lisa,” Wilson said, using her first name hesitantly as he looked over at her. “You do know that, right? There’s no reason for you to be ashamed. This could have happened to anyone.”

[dr_gregoryhouse]

House felt somewhat torn. On one hand, he was very aware of how upset Cuddy was and there was a strong part of him that didn't actually want to upset her further. But there was another, almost equally strong part of him that felt defiant; for the fact that Cuddy had lied when the situation was obviously getting so out of control; for the fact that the guy had taken such liberties as to completely invade Cuddy's life like that; for the fact that Cuddy had done nothing to stop it. So, really, he felt defiant, if not angry because he cared about her -- and unlike Wilson in most cases, House tended to opt for the tough love strategy more than anything else.

"Yeah, and look where that logic's landed you," House remarked wryly to Cuddy's statement about truth being too painful.

He glanced at Wilson when he started talking -- and naturally, Wilson started to tell Cuddy this wasn't her fault. In another situation where House didn't care so much for the person he'd have probably told Wilson to cut the crap. But this was Cuddy, not some random person whom meant little to House. And Wilson was right in that the outcome of this situation wasn't Cuddy's fault. How the hell did she know it was going to result to this? House could've argued that Cuddy got herself involved in it in the first place by getting involved in the whole internet dating business to begin with. But that didn't rationalise what the guy did, and that didn't change the fact that House cared about Cuddy -- however unorthodox he was in showing that.

House sighed and looked down to his drink. "This could've happened to anyone, yes," House agreed in a quieter, slightly gentler voice, "but you could've put a stop to it before it got so out of control." He looked back to Cuddy. The tone of his voice changed to firm again. "How'd you let it get to this point? Why did you let it get to this point?"

[dr_l_cuddy]

Cuddy shifted until she was sitting on the edge of the couch. She took a big gulp of whiskey before leaning forward to set the glass on the coffee table. Too bad she hadn't hit the bottle earlier, and harder, because there was no way now she'd be able to achieve that numbness she'd been looking for, not with the pressure of House's relentless questions.

"It was too late to stop it. By the time I realized.... There was nothing I could do except hope he would lose interest after I cut off all contact with him." Cuddy leaned forward, resting her forearms along her thighs, fingers twisting in the fabric of her pants. It was like being caught in a game of Good Cop/Bad Cop, with Wilson being the good cop and House being...House.

The really painful fact was that House had a point, which was exactly why she hadn't wanted to talk to him. All House's previous accusations about her dating habits being pathetic and desperate had been proven right, and that on top of everything else she'd been feeling over the last twenty-four hours--fear, anger, loneliness--had just about pushed her to her breaking point.

"He's right," Cuddy said, turning her face toward Wilson. "It is my fault. I was pathetic enough to put myself in a position to be a target. And too stupid to realize what I'd gotten into, what kind of creep this guy was."

Cuddy let out a sharp, bitter laugh that bordered on becoming a sob. "My fault for thinking I deserved to have someone in my life. I should know better by now, right?"

[dr_j_wilson]

Wilson shot House an annoyed look. Sure… maybe Cuddy had made some mistakes, but he was sure she didn’t need that pointed out - or shoved in her face. That Cuddy responded the way she did made Wilson even more annoyed - though not at her. For a long moment, Wilson sat in indecision. Part of him wanted to argue further, part of him wanted just to comfort her. Cuddy had comforted him once… he should be able to return the favour. The problem was that Cuddy was such a strong woman and Wilson didn’t want her thinking that he saw her as weak by offering comfort.

Well… surely it was better to offer and be rejected than not offer when she really might need it.

Swallowing the last of his whiskey, Wilson set his glass on a nearby table. Then, getting to his feet, he moved over to the couch and managed to squeeze himself into the space between Cuddy and the armrest. “Listen…” Wilson started hesitantly, “you’re not pathetic for taking a chance. And I don’t think you really believe that all this means you’re somehow fated never to… to have someone.”

Twisting to face Cuddy, Wilson put a careful hand on her shoulder and gently tugged the whiskey out of her hand, setting it aside. However much she had already had was probably enough. “Your only mistake was maybe having too much pride and not going to someone… when it started going sour,” Wilson said quietly and gave Cuddy a small smile after glancing quickly at House.

[dr_gregoryhouse]

House felt another flare of defiance at Cuddy's response, though catching the annoyed look Wilson shot him made House think twice about saying anything. He looked away from Cuddy, down at his drink, listening to the way Cuddy was rapidly becoming unglued. He couldn't recall the last time he'd ever heard Cuddy sounding like this; she was a woman who shielded her emotions as much as House did on many levels, so to hear her this upset went so show just how much this whole thing had terrified her. For that, House felt yet another tingle of anger in his gut -- at the stalker guy, not at Cuddy. Lifting his drink to his mouth, he swallowed back the contents in one gulp in an attempt to drown the anger before he ended up saying something that was uncalled for.

Grimacing at the burn the whiskey left in its path, House glanced sideways at Cuddy just in time to see Wilson sitting down beside her. Wilson was far better at this kind of thing than House was -- he always felt awkward, if not inadequate when it came to comforting people. Those that he cared about, anyway. Meeting Wilson's eyes when Wilson glanced at him, House watched the way Wilson attempted to offer comfort before House looked back down to his now-empty glass.

Just to keep himself occupied, House shifted forward and reached for the whiskey bottle to pour himself another glass, and once he'd set the bottle back onto the coffee table and picked his glass up, he looked back to Wilson and Cuddy again.

House didn't really trust himself to say anything -- he'd said enough as it was. More than enough. Any questioning he fired at Cuddy wasn't going to change what happened and it certainly wasn't going to calm her if he kept demanding to know what happened. He didn't know what to do now, whether to sit in silence and let Wilson comfort Cuddy if she needed it, or... Lifting the glass back to his lips, he swallowed most of the contents before he hesitantly began to shift down the couch towards Cuddy. He moved right down until he was sitting next to her -- not so close that they were touching, but close enough that she would at least know he was there.

[dr_l_cuddy]

Cuddy shifted over slightly so Wilson wouldn't be so squished up against the armrest. Then she leaned back, into his hand on her shoulder, unconsciously seeking comfort.

She did have trouble asking for what she needed or wanted, at least on a personal level. After all, how would it look for a nearly forty year old professional woman to go asking for a hug? Weak, that's how would look, and she despised appearing weak. Hell, normally she would've shown House and Wilson the door five minutes ago despite the fact that she did need the emotional support.

"I don't know what to believe any more," Cuddy admitted. Her emotions were in such a turmoil over everything that had happened that she barely knew what she was feeling from one moment to the next. She was vaguely aware of House moving closer. As long as he quit with all the questions, she was okay with his physical proximity. Maybe even welcomed it.

"I hate him. He had no right to invade my privacy. I hate that he was able to make me feel...afraid. I hate that I gave him the opportunity. But mostly I hate feeling like a failure and let's face it, I've never been anything but a failure when it comes to relationships. This time...it's the worst, but it sure as hell isn't the first time I've screwed up."

Cuddy wiped a hand across her eyes, but the tears were leaking out along with the words. Abruptly, she turned into Wilson, leaning her forehead against his shoulder.

"I should've stopped trying years ago... but I get so damn tired of being alone."

[dr_j_wilson]

“You’re not a failure,” Wilson said quietly, though he was sure Cuddy probably wouldn’t believe it at the moment. It was obvious her emotions were still extremely raw, but maybe it would sink in at least a little. Moving carefully, Wilson slid his arm around Cuddy’s shoulders and held her to his chest as tight as he dared.

Wilson met House’s eyes for a moment over Cuddy’s head, not even sure what he was communicating but knowing he was communicating something. Wrapping his other arm around Cuddy’s front, Wilson dropped his eyes away from House’s and pressed a kiss to the top of Cuddy’s head.

It was obvious Cuddy was talking about not having a lover when she said she got tired of being alone, but Wilson hoped it still meant something that she had friends. That she had people who cared about her, even if some of them - namely House - had very unorthodox ways of showing that.