Fic: Fade to Black: Chapter Nine
Title: Fade to Black
Disclaimer: All rights belong to Fox and David Shore. I make no money from this.
Summary: Part of the hospital collapses, trapping House and Cuddy beneath the rubble. After extraction, there's going to be recovery.
Author's Note: Hey, guys! I just wanted to let you know I'm leaving for vacation tomorrow so I popped this sucker out before I go. I won't be back until the 11th and I don't know if I'll get internet, so the fic will be updated when I get a chance. Sorry for the wait!
Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight.
House removed himself from where he was leaning against the wall. He had been waiting for her for over an hour and was finally glad to see some results. Cuddy was wheeling herself toward the elevators. House stepped in her way.
“Good afternoon,” he greeted.
She glared up at him, her wheelchair at a stop. “Get out of my way, House.”
“Heard you’ve been bitchy lately,” he said and gave a tap to the ground with his cane.
“Get out of my way,” she repeated with more force this time.
“No,” he replied simply, keeping his ground.
Cuddy backed up her wheelchair and turned it in an attempt to maneuver around him. House took a sidestep right back into her way. Cuddy stopped and glared at him again.
“I hate you,” her words weren’t as biting as they could have been, but she still meant them nonetheless.
“I realized something,” House told her, completely ignoring her statement.
“Did you?” Cuddy humored him.
He locked eyes with her. “This was your fault.”
“Yeah?” She raised her eyebrows, still humoring him.
“You’re the one who took me up there for a drug test,” House went on. “I wouldn’t have needed one if I didn’t need pain medication. And I wouldn’t need pain medication if it wasn’t for your actions that resulted in this.” He indicated his thigh. “So, this is all your fault.”
Cuddy merely stared up at him. “You done now?”
Without waiting for an answer, she started to wheel herself around him. House frowned, not appreciating being ignored. He grabbed onto one of her wheels, stopping her, and put the brake on. He leaned to the other side of her and put the other brake on as well.
“That’s it then?” He wanted her to argue with him, to fight him.
Cuddy pulled both her brakes off, trying to pay him no mind.
“That’s all you have to say?” he asked.
Letting out an irritated sigh, Cuddy looked up at him.
“What do you want me to say, House? You felt some sort of emotion, mistook it for guilt, and made me feel like shit. Then, you realized that you were, in fact, wrong about your guilty feelings, so now I feel like shit and it’s all my fault. What do you want me to say?”
House realized he had no response to her small tirade, so he took a step back, allowing her room to go. Cuddy took the opportunity and sped off toward the elevators, going as fast as her arms could move her.
There was a knock on Wilson’s office door. He looked up from the paperwork on his desk as he tried to guess who it could be.
“Come in,” he called out.
The door opened and House limped inside. Wilson was surprised considering House usually barged right in without ever bothering to knock.
After he closed the door, House made his way over to Wilson’s couch and took a seat. He looked toward the balcony door, watching the rain fall heavily outside.
“So...” Wilson tried to decide how to start this since House was giving him nothing. “What’s up?”
“If you pushed someone in front of a bus and they were injured, but lived, what would you do?” House directed his question to the balcony.
“What do you mean, what would I do?” Wilson stared at his friend, confused.
House looked over to Wilson. “Just... what would you do?”
Wilson raised his eyebrows. “Did you push someone in front of a bus?”
“Yeah,” House answered sarcastically, making a face. “Right outside the hospital.”
Shaking his head, House stood to his feet and made his way to the door. Wilson’s gaze followed him.
“Wait a second.” Wilson stood to his feet. “Do you want to talk about something, House?”
“Nope.” House pulled open the office door.
“No, wait,” Wilson said as he made his way around the desk. “Say I did push someone in front of a bus. What do you want to know? What’d I do after? How I’d feel?”
Wilson knew this had to do with Cuddy, but he wasn’t sure what kind of answer House was looking for. He wanted to give him the right answer, to help with whatever was plaguing his mind at the moment.
House’s eyes met Wilson’s. “What would you do if you can’t carry on as normal?”
“I’d get some help so I would be able to carry on as normal,” Wilson told him.
“I knew you’d say that,” House replied and walked out of Wilson’s office.
Cuddy wheeled herself to her front door. She turned the door knob and moved herself back before opening the door. House stood there, leaning in the doorway. His clothes were disheveled, his hair matted.
A look of concern immediately crossed over Cuddy’s face, all of her previous anger forgotten.
“House, are you okay?”
He nodded for a brief moment before leaning over the side of the porch and throwing up. Cuddy wheeled herself closer to the doorway.
“House.” She tried to get his attention, but he didn’t look up. “I’m calling an ambulance.”
“You’re overreacting,” he called out to her, still bent over the side of the porch.
“How did you get here?” Cuddy asked him.
“Does it matter?” House replied.
“You didn’t drive, did you?”
Cuddy peered outside, but she didn’t see any sign of a motorcycle or car. She looked over at House to see him staring at her.
“You going to let me in?” he said.
“I’m calling an ambulance,” she told him.
“I’m fine.” He gave a short nod. “Just... hold on.”
House turned his head and threw up again over the side of her porch. Cuddy wheeled herself back into her home. She made her way into the living room and to the phone. She picked it up and debated calling Wilson first, but then decided she’d call him at the hospital.
Cuddy went to dial, but House yanked the phone from her.
“Hey.” She reached for the phone, but House held it from her grasp.
“I don’t need an ambulance,” he insisted.
Cuddy raised her eyebrows at him. “You done throwing up now?”
“Yes,” House answered. “I’m fine. Stomach bug.”
“Or an overdose,” Cuddy replied.
House unplugged the phone and threw it to the couch. He limped around her coffee table and lowered himself to the floor. Cuddy stared at him.
“What are you doing?”
“Resting,” he told her before spreading himself out on his back.
“You could have sat on the couch,” she said.
Cuddy wheeled herself closer to him. He closed his eyes and focused on breathing in and out to stave away any more nausea.
Peering down at House, Cuddy frowned and put her brakes on. She moved her foot pedals out of the way and scooted to the edge of her seat. She slid from her wheelchair, her chair pressing against the coffee table. Once on the floor, Cuddy used her arms to help lift and maneuver herself closer to House.
After a minute, she was at his side. She fell back against the floor so that she was lying next to him. House turned his head towards her and opened his eyes.
“How did you get on the floor?” he asked.
Cuddy’s eyebrows drew together. “What’s going on, House? Is this what it comes down to? Puking on my porch and lying on my living room floor?”
“I was in the neighborhood,” he told her gruffly.
“Did you walk?”
“Cuddy, shut up.”
House was tired of her searching him for answers. He now understood what it felt like to be on the other side of his tirade of finding the truth. He closed his eyes again.
Cuddy propped herself up onto her elbows, looking him over.
“You’re sick, House. You need help.”
“Please shut up.”
“You came for a reason,” Cuddy pointed out. “I didn’t ask you to.”
“I don’t know how I got here,” House replied. “I’m just here.”
“How high are you?” Cuddy asked him.
House ignored her. Cuddy continued to stare at him, waiting for an answer.
“House.”
Still, he ignored her. He was hoping she would leave him alone already. Or that he could articulate exactly why he was here.
“Do you want me to get you anything?” Cuddy said.
“You can’t get back in your wheelchair,” he replied.
“I can if I try,” she told him.
“No, I don’t want anything.” He fell quiet for a moment before adding, “this isn’t my fault. I told you that.”
“You did,” she agreed. “But, you still feel guilty.”
He hated that she was right. And he hated even more that she knew she was right. Cuddy rested back down beside him.
“It’s going to be okay,” she assured him after several minutes of silence.
Cuddy placed her hand on his arm and patted it a few times before sliding it down to his hand. She interlocked her fingers with his.
“You don’t have to do this to yourself,” her volume lowered, a slight tiredness in her tone.
“Well, if you tell me how to stop feeling, I won’t,” the words spilled out of him before he could stop them.
House cursed himself, wishing he hadn’t spoke, wishing he hadn’t bothered to show up on her doorstep in the first place. Cuddy kept quiet beside him, surprised by his honesty and not quite sure as to what to say to help him.
She turned herself toward House and leaned closer to him. She placed a soft kiss on his stubbled cheek before resting back down.
“I don’t blame you,” she told him. “It wasn’t your fault. You’re punishing yourself for no reason. You didn’t put me in a wheelchair.”
House opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. He wanted to believe her, but he felt like it was too easy to place blame on something, anything, else. If he hadn’t caused so much trouble and pissed in the cup like an average person, then they would have been out of there before the plane crashed.
“You didn’t know,” Cuddy added and House thought for a second that she actually read his mind.
“I’ve got a lot of pain, Cuddy,” House said, shaking off his thoughts. “The damn plane crash caused my thigh to hurt almost as much as it did after the surgery.” He was lying to her. Sure, his thigh did hurt a bit more, but it wasn’t as bad as he was claiming it was. “I’ve just got a lot of pain.”
“Yeah, House,” she agreed, going along with him even though she saw through his act. “You do.”
He closed his eyes, feeling himself growing tired. Cuddy glanced over at him before forcing herself to sit up. Using the strength in her arms, she scooted herself close enough to the couch to grab the blanket that was hanging off of it.
She scooted herself back to her former place and put the blanket over herself and House. Cuddy rested down on her back and found House’s hand again under the blanket. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh. She planned on staying there with him for a little while, but she soon drifted off to sleep.
“Doctor Cuddy. I mean, Lisa.”
Cuddy stirred awake and watched as Sally came rushing to her side. Sally knelt beside her and helped her to sit up. The previous night flashed through Cuddy’s mind and she quickly looked to her left, only to see the space empty. She wondered where House had gone.
“What happened?” Sally asked, concerned. “Why were you sleeping on the floor? Did you fall?”
“No.” Cuddy shook her head. “No, I didn’t.”
Sally helped Cuddy back into her wheelchair. Cuddy groaned slightly, feeling the ache in her back from sleeping on the floor.
“So, what happened, then?” Sally again asked once Cuddy was back in the chair with her foot pedals in place.
“It was,” Cuddy paused, “nothing. It was nothing.”
She wheeled herself from the living room, wondering if she’d find House somewhere else. Sally followed after her as she made her way through the living room and into the kitchen.
“Well, you overslept,” Sally told her. “I just came to take you to work, but you need to get changed. Did you want to shower?”
“No,” Cuddy answered, distracted, as she made her way back into the hallway after not finding House.
She glanced into the bathroom as she passed it on her way to the bedroom. Cuddy entered into the bedroom and frowned as she saw it was empty. She began around the bed.
“Do you want me to help you dress?” Sally said from the doorway.
Cuddy wheeled herself to the bathroom within her bedroom, but found that it, too, was empty. She let out a sigh.
“Lisa, what are you looking for?”
Sally stared at Cuddy, a confused expression on her face. Cuddy met Sally’s gaze and shook her head.
“Nothing,” she told her. “I’m not looking for anything.”
Chapter Ten.
Disclaimer: All rights belong to Fox and David Shore. I make no money from this.
Summary: Part of the hospital collapses, trapping House and Cuddy beneath the rubble. After extraction, there's going to be recovery.
Author's Note: Hey, guys! I just wanted to let you know I'm leaving for vacation tomorrow so I popped this sucker out before I go. I won't be back until the 11th and I don't know if I'll get internet, so the fic will be updated when I get a chance. Sorry for the wait!
Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight.
House removed himself from where he was leaning against the wall. He had been waiting for her for over an hour and was finally glad to see some results. Cuddy was wheeling herself toward the elevators. House stepped in her way.
“Good afternoon,” he greeted.
She glared up at him, her wheelchair at a stop. “Get out of my way, House.”
“Heard you’ve been bitchy lately,” he said and gave a tap to the ground with his cane.
“Get out of my way,” she repeated with more force this time.
“No,” he replied simply, keeping his ground.
Cuddy backed up her wheelchair and turned it in an attempt to maneuver around him. House took a sidestep right back into her way. Cuddy stopped and glared at him again.
“I hate you,” her words weren’t as biting as they could have been, but she still meant them nonetheless.
“I realized something,” House told her, completely ignoring her statement.
“Did you?” Cuddy humored him.
He locked eyes with her. “This was your fault.”
“Yeah?” She raised her eyebrows, still humoring him.
“You’re the one who took me up there for a drug test,” House went on. “I wouldn’t have needed one if I didn’t need pain medication. And I wouldn’t need pain medication if it wasn’t for your actions that resulted in this.” He indicated his thigh. “So, this is all your fault.”
Cuddy merely stared up at him. “You done now?”
Without waiting for an answer, she started to wheel herself around him. House frowned, not appreciating being ignored. He grabbed onto one of her wheels, stopping her, and put the brake on. He leaned to the other side of her and put the other brake on as well.
“That’s it then?” He wanted her to argue with him, to fight him.
Cuddy pulled both her brakes off, trying to pay him no mind.
“That’s all you have to say?” he asked.
Letting out an irritated sigh, Cuddy looked up at him.
“What do you want me to say, House? You felt some sort of emotion, mistook it for guilt, and made me feel like shit. Then, you realized that you were, in fact, wrong about your guilty feelings, so now I feel like shit and it’s all my fault. What do you want me to say?”
House realized he had no response to her small tirade, so he took a step back, allowing her room to go. Cuddy took the opportunity and sped off toward the elevators, going as fast as her arms could move her.
There was a knock on Wilson’s office door. He looked up from the paperwork on his desk as he tried to guess who it could be.
“Come in,” he called out.
The door opened and House limped inside. Wilson was surprised considering House usually barged right in without ever bothering to knock.
After he closed the door, House made his way over to Wilson’s couch and took a seat. He looked toward the balcony door, watching the rain fall heavily outside.
“So...” Wilson tried to decide how to start this since House was giving him nothing. “What’s up?”
“If you pushed someone in front of a bus and they were injured, but lived, what would you do?” House directed his question to the balcony.
“What do you mean, what would I do?” Wilson stared at his friend, confused.
House looked over to Wilson. “Just... what would you do?”
Wilson raised his eyebrows. “Did you push someone in front of a bus?”
“Yeah,” House answered sarcastically, making a face. “Right outside the hospital.”
Shaking his head, House stood to his feet and made his way to the door. Wilson’s gaze followed him.
“Wait a second.” Wilson stood to his feet. “Do you want to talk about something, House?”
“Nope.” House pulled open the office door.
“No, wait,” Wilson said as he made his way around the desk. “Say I did push someone in front of a bus. What do you want to know? What’d I do after? How I’d feel?”
Wilson knew this had to do with Cuddy, but he wasn’t sure what kind of answer House was looking for. He wanted to give him the right answer, to help with whatever was plaguing his mind at the moment.
House’s eyes met Wilson’s. “What would you do if you can’t carry on as normal?”
“I’d get some help so I would be able to carry on as normal,” Wilson told him.
“I knew you’d say that,” House replied and walked out of Wilson’s office.
Cuddy wheeled herself to her front door. She turned the door knob and moved herself back before opening the door. House stood there, leaning in the doorway. His clothes were disheveled, his hair matted.
A look of concern immediately crossed over Cuddy’s face, all of her previous anger forgotten.
“House, are you okay?”
He nodded for a brief moment before leaning over the side of the porch and throwing up. Cuddy wheeled herself closer to the doorway.
“House.” She tried to get his attention, but he didn’t look up. “I’m calling an ambulance.”
“You’re overreacting,” he called out to her, still bent over the side of the porch.
“How did you get here?” Cuddy asked him.
“Does it matter?” House replied.
“You didn’t drive, did you?”
Cuddy peered outside, but she didn’t see any sign of a motorcycle or car. She looked over at House to see him staring at her.
“You going to let me in?” he said.
“I’m calling an ambulance,” she told him.
“I’m fine.” He gave a short nod. “Just... hold on.”
House turned his head and threw up again over the side of her porch. Cuddy wheeled herself back into her home. She made her way into the living room and to the phone. She picked it up and debated calling Wilson first, but then decided she’d call him at the hospital.
Cuddy went to dial, but House yanked the phone from her.
“Hey.” She reached for the phone, but House held it from her grasp.
“I don’t need an ambulance,” he insisted.
Cuddy raised her eyebrows at him. “You done throwing up now?”
“Yes,” House answered. “I’m fine. Stomach bug.”
“Or an overdose,” Cuddy replied.
House unplugged the phone and threw it to the couch. He limped around her coffee table and lowered himself to the floor. Cuddy stared at him.
“What are you doing?”
“Resting,” he told her before spreading himself out on his back.
“You could have sat on the couch,” she said.
Cuddy wheeled herself closer to him. He closed his eyes and focused on breathing in and out to stave away any more nausea.
Peering down at House, Cuddy frowned and put her brakes on. She moved her foot pedals out of the way and scooted to the edge of her seat. She slid from her wheelchair, her chair pressing against the coffee table. Once on the floor, Cuddy used her arms to help lift and maneuver herself closer to House.
After a minute, she was at his side. She fell back against the floor so that she was lying next to him. House turned his head towards her and opened his eyes.
“How did you get on the floor?” he asked.
Cuddy’s eyebrows drew together. “What’s going on, House? Is this what it comes down to? Puking on my porch and lying on my living room floor?”
“I was in the neighborhood,” he told her gruffly.
“Did you walk?”
“Cuddy, shut up.”
House was tired of her searching him for answers. He now understood what it felt like to be on the other side of his tirade of finding the truth. He closed his eyes again.
Cuddy propped herself up onto her elbows, looking him over.
“You’re sick, House. You need help.”
“Please shut up.”
“You came for a reason,” Cuddy pointed out. “I didn’t ask you to.”
“I don’t know how I got here,” House replied. “I’m just here.”
“How high are you?” Cuddy asked him.
House ignored her. Cuddy continued to stare at him, waiting for an answer.
“House.”
Still, he ignored her. He was hoping she would leave him alone already. Or that he could articulate exactly why he was here.
“Do you want me to get you anything?” Cuddy said.
“You can’t get back in your wheelchair,” he replied.
“I can if I try,” she told him.
“No, I don’t want anything.” He fell quiet for a moment before adding, “this isn’t my fault. I told you that.”
“You did,” she agreed. “But, you still feel guilty.”
He hated that she was right. And he hated even more that she knew she was right. Cuddy rested back down beside him.
“It’s going to be okay,” she assured him after several minutes of silence.
Cuddy placed her hand on his arm and patted it a few times before sliding it down to his hand. She interlocked her fingers with his.
“You don’t have to do this to yourself,” her volume lowered, a slight tiredness in her tone.
“Well, if you tell me how to stop feeling, I won’t,” the words spilled out of him before he could stop them.
House cursed himself, wishing he hadn’t spoke, wishing he hadn’t bothered to show up on her doorstep in the first place. Cuddy kept quiet beside him, surprised by his honesty and not quite sure as to what to say to help him.
She turned herself toward House and leaned closer to him. She placed a soft kiss on his stubbled cheek before resting back down.
“I don’t blame you,” she told him. “It wasn’t your fault. You’re punishing yourself for no reason. You didn’t put me in a wheelchair.”
House opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. He wanted to believe her, but he felt like it was too easy to place blame on something, anything, else. If he hadn’t caused so much trouble and pissed in the cup like an average person, then they would have been out of there before the plane crashed.
“You didn’t know,” Cuddy added and House thought for a second that she actually read his mind.
“I’ve got a lot of pain, Cuddy,” House said, shaking off his thoughts. “The damn plane crash caused my thigh to hurt almost as much as it did after the surgery.” He was lying to her. Sure, his thigh did hurt a bit more, but it wasn’t as bad as he was claiming it was. “I’ve just got a lot of pain.”
“Yeah, House,” she agreed, going along with him even though she saw through his act. “You do.”
He closed his eyes, feeling himself growing tired. Cuddy glanced over at him before forcing herself to sit up. Using the strength in her arms, she scooted herself close enough to the couch to grab the blanket that was hanging off of it.
She scooted herself back to her former place and put the blanket over herself and House. Cuddy rested down on her back and found House’s hand again under the blanket. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh. She planned on staying there with him for a little while, but she soon drifted off to sleep.
“Doctor Cuddy. I mean, Lisa.”
Cuddy stirred awake and watched as Sally came rushing to her side. Sally knelt beside her and helped her to sit up. The previous night flashed through Cuddy’s mind and she quickly looked to her left, only to see the space empty. She wondered where House had gone.
“What happened?” Sally asked, concerned. “Why were you sleeping on the floor? Did you fall?”
“No.” Cuddy shook her head. “No, I didn’t.”
Sally helped Cuddy back into her wheelchair. Cuddy groaned slightly, feeling the ache in her back from sleeping on the floor.
“So, what happened, then?” Sally again asked once Cuddy was back in the chair with her foot pedals in place.
“It was,” Cuddy paused, “nothing. It was nothing.”
She wheeled herself from the living room, wondering if she’d find House somewhere else. Sally followed after her as she made her way through the living room and into the kitchen.
“Well, you overslept,” Sally told her. “I just came to take you to work, but you need to get changed. Did you want to shower?”
“No,” Cuddy answered, distracted, as she made her way back into the hallway after not finding House.
She glanced into the bathroom as she passed it on her way to the bedroom. Cuddy entered into the bedroom and frowned as she saw it was empty. She began around the bed.
“Do you want me to help you dress?” Sally said from the doorway.
Cuddy wheeled herself to the bathroom within her bedroom, but found that it, too, was empty. She let out a sigh.
“Lisa, what are you looking for?”
Sally stared at Cuddy, a confused expression on her face. Cuddy met Sally’s gaze and shook her head.
“Nothing,” she told her. “I’m not looking for anything.”
Chapter Ten.