Fic: Fade to Black: Last Chapter
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.
(Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10.)
“Oh, God.”
House picked up his limping speed as he headed to his office. He knew based on experience that she would catch up to him in her wheelchair. He glanced back to see her gaining ground.
“Go away,” he told her.
“You thought I wouldn’t know you were in?” she replied and wheeled herself up to his side.
House stopped at the door to his office and turned towards her.
“I’m going to stop coming in if you don’t leave me alone,” he threatened.
“You might as well stop coming in now because it’s like you’re not even here half the time with all the drugs you take,” she said, staring right back at him.
“Okay, then.” House stepped around her and headed for the elevators. “See ya.”
Cuddy turned her chair in his direction. “If you leave right now, I’ll fire you.”
He stopped and faced her. “You tell me to go, then you tell me to stay-”
“Yeah, because I know your team is competent enough to handle your cases even if you are high.” Cuddy frowned and wheeled herself closer to him, allowing herself to lower her voice. “But, they are going to need you. And if you can’t kick the drugs, then I’ll have to fire you.”
House held back a sigh and shook his head slightly. “I can’t kick the drugs with my pain, Cuddy.”
“But, you don’t have to take them to the point where you’re gone, House,” she told him.
“I’m not,” he insisted, starting to grow very annoyed.
She frowned at him. “Not now. But, two days ago-”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he cut her off harshly and began to head toward the elevators again.
Cuddy wheeled herself after him. “I told you I wasn’t going to give up until you agreed to get help.”
“I would get help if I thought I needed it,” he called over his shoulder and then picked up his pace.
“You need it,” she replied.
House stopped and faced her for a second time. He let out a sigh and lowered his eyes to meet hers.
“We’ve been doing this for over a week,” he said. “I’m about to kill myself.”
Cuddy gave a simple shrug. “Well, that’s the price you pay for having me follow you around until you get the help you need.”
She placed a tight smile on her face, looking up at him. He nodded slightly as an idea formed in his mind. House limped around her as he hooked his cane on his wrist. He took the handles of her wheelchair in his hand and turned her around.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, her hands on her wheels.
Cuddy removed her hands from the wheels, however, as House began to push her down the hall. With his determination, she was afraid her hands would get injured in the struggle. He used her wheelchair to take some of the pressure off of his thigh as he limped along.
“House, stop.”
House did stop, but only to turn her around with him as he used his back to push open his office door. He entered and turned her back around before pushing her chair until she was in front of his desk. He took a step back, grabbed his cane, and began to head out of the room.
Cuddy turned her chair around and wheeled after him, but House had made sure the door was closed as he left. He glanced back at her and smirked, knowing it would be quite a struggle for her to get out of that room on her own. She glared at him in return. House gave a small wave and headed for the elevators.
“He hasn’t been in for days.”
Cuddy watched Wilson pace in her office. He was concerned and she was trying her best to reassure him that everything would hopefully pan out.
“He’s fine,” Cuddy told him.
Wilson stopped pacing and faced her, planting his hands to his hips. “I don’t think this is working. How do you know he’s fine?”
“I’m at his apartment before and after work,” Cuddy said.
Wilson raised his eyebrows. “He lets you in?”
“No.” She shook her head. “He never lets me in. Sometimes he talks to me through the door. But, mostly he has the TV blasting or he’s at the piano or... sometimes it’s quiet and it scares me, but he’s okay.”
“Why are you doing this for him, Lisa?” Wilson asked tiredly. He wanted House to get help, but he wasn’t sure if Cuddy’s route was the right one.
Her eyes met his. “For the same reasons you would if I wasn’t.”
The knocking was driving him crazy. House attempted to tune it out, but she was being relentless. He limped quickly to the door and opened it. His eyes went to Cuddy in her wheelchair for only a moment before he looked to an older gentleman standing beside her.
He was tall with slightly greying brown hair. He was dressed casually and had his hands in his pockets. His face was soft, which only disgusted House even more.
“Who the hell is this?” he demanded and put his focus back on Cuddy.
“I came to talk with you, Dr. House,” the man said and stuck out a hand. “I’m Dr. Felder.”
House shook his head and began to close the door. “No chance in hell.”
Cuddy quickly wedged her wheelchair in his doorway. House frowned down at her, not wanting to play this game right now. He wanted to go back to his bedroom, crawl under the covers, and stay there for the next twelve hours.
“Get out, Cuddy,” he told her harshly.
“No,” Cuddy replied.
House rested his cane against the wall before he leaned over her, his hands on her armrests. He tried to push her chair back, but failed, not realizing the brakes were now on. Cuddy could smell him, he was so close, a scent of alcohol and something else she couldn’t determine.
“I want you to get help,” she spoke loudly, wanting to be sure he heard her.
“Christ.” House straightened up and glared at her. “Stop it already. Please. And you know I don’t beg.”
“I’ll stop if you’ll agree to give me one week in counseling,” she bargained.
“No,” House instantly said.
“Just one week, House,” Cuddy pleaded. “That’s it. And I won’t bother you about it again.”
“I don’t believe you.”
House reached down and put both of her brakes off. He gave her wheelchair a harsh shove backwards, almost causing her to hit Dr. Felder in the process, and then slammed his door closed.
Cuddy set her jaw and looked up at Dr. Felder. “Yeah... I didn’t think that would work.”
“You look awful,” she said, staring up at him and observing his messy hair, tired eyes, and stained tee-shirt.
“Yeah,” he agreed gruffly. “Bring any doctors this week?”
“No,” she answered.
House turned from her, leaving the door open, and walked back over to his couch. He collapsed down onto it and closed his eyes. Cuddy wheeled herself into his apartment and closed the door behind herself.
“Heard you fell today,” House spoke up from the couch.
“I did.”
Cuddy wheeled herself over to the couch. She observed him there, wondering how much he had taken. He was definitely not all together.
“I’m okay, though,” she added in when House didn’t respond.
He opened one eye and looked over at her. “Why’d you fall?”
“I was walking.” She gave a small shrug. “Almost on my own. And then I went down.”
“You’re still in a chair.” He shut his eye and draped his arm over both closed eyes. “You’re not getting better.”
“You should come to my PT sometime,” she suggested. “I am getting better, House.”
“Right,” he agreed, but he didn’t believe it.
Cuddy fell silent and wheeled herself closer to the couch. She looked over his coffee table, littered with empty pill bottles as well as empty bottles of beer. She felt she was coming to the end of this, that she was losing ground on her plan. It wasn’t helping him.
“Why don’t you just OD already?” she asked and looked over at him.
“Because I hate myself,” he told her, wishing the room would stop feeling like it was spinning.
“No, really,” she replied. “Just do it.”
“Reverse psych, Cuddy?” House lifted his arm enough to glance over at her.
“No.” She shook her head. “I just want to know. You seem so eager to end your pain, I don’t know why you just don’t end your life.”
“Because being miserable is better than being dead,” House said and then quickly added, “or so I’ve heard.”
She softened her tone, hoping the switch would ease him into being honest with her. “What made you take so much today, House? Why today?”
“Why not today?” He let his arm slide over the edge of the couch. “Why not any day? Or everyday?”
“Last week, it was Monday and Friday,” she recounted the days he had been worse. “This week it was Monday again, Tuesday, and today. I don’t understand.”
“I’m surprised you don’t.”
Cuddy stared at him, confused. “How could I?”
“Go away,” he told her. “You’re giving me a headache.”
She eyed him up. “Are you going to be all right? Or should I let the hospital know you’ll be needing your stomach pumped later?”
“I’ll be just peachy when you get the hell out,” House bitterly responded.
“Right.” Cuddy gave a short nod. “See you tomorrow, House. If you show up.”
She was definitely losing her ground. New tactics didn’t throw him off guard enough to get somewhere, even when he was high. Feeling defeated, Cuddy wheeled herself to his door and let herself out.
That night, Cuddy remained awake in bed, thinking about House, thinking about herself, thinking about the day the collapse happened and everything it entailed. As she recounted her personal triumphs and failures in her physical therapy, she came to a realization.
It was on days where Cuddy had set backs in physical therapy that House would get really far gone with his drugs. She realized that she was the cause of his problem. He took more drugs over his chronic guilt.
As it stood now, she has good days and bad days, just like House. Their good days and bad days had become identical due to House’s reaction to her bad days. Cuddy felt like a fool for not becoming aware of it sooner.
She sat up in bed, wanting to talk to House, but she knew that was impossible. He wouldn’t be answering the phone and there was no way she could get to his house. She couldn’t walk on her own yet, let alone drive, and she certainly wasn’t going to get Sally up in the middle of the night to take her to House’s apartment.
With a quiet sigh, Cuddy rested back down. Her mind began to formulate a new plan. Of course, it was going to take work, but she felt it gave her even more drive to get better. She couldn’t wait to get to the hospital and to her physical therapy session.
“I have something to show you,” Cuddy told him after he finally let her into his apartment.
House leaned against the back of his couch, his eyes on her. “Do you?”
Cuddy reached down and moved her foot pedals to the side. She placed the brakes on and clutched the armrests. House watched intently, wondering if she was really going to try and stand.
Using her arms to help her, Cuddy stood to her feet and balanced. She removed her hands from her wheelchair and took a step forward with her right foot. Then, she took another, slightly fumbling step with her left.
House stared at her, not really believing it. He knew she was getting better, but he always saw her in the chair, which only enforced to him that she wasn’t going to walk.
Cuddy felt her legs starting to weaken. She still didn’t have the strength she wanted, even if she was improving. She turned and began for the chair, but she was worried she wasn’t going to make it. House sensed this, however, and limped over to her. He held onto her as she made her way back to the wheelchair.
“Thanks,” she said as they worked together to reach the chair.
Once she was seated, Cuddy looked up at him.
“See?” She raised her eyebrows. “I can walk. And I’ll do much better with practice. I’ll walk again, House. Just like before.”
“Like before.” He nodded slightly.
“Yeah,” she agreed. She lowered her gaze for a moment as she drew in a breath. “I know about the pills.”
“What?” House asked, feigning shock. “No. You don’t say.”
“I mean... I noticed about when you took more,” she corrected her statement. “It was on days when I had issues.”
“Yeah,” House replied quietly, finally giving her a little to work with.
“And you just saw me walk,” she added.
“So, what?” House’s voice turned hard and he made his way back over to the couch.
He stayed at the back of it, staring at the blank television. Cuddy wheeled herself towards him.
“So, you don’t have to stay in that dark place,” she said. “I’m getting better. Like before. And you can, too.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Maybe not, but it doesn’t have to be this hard, House,” she told him. “It doesn’t have to be this painful. Why continue to punish yourself when I just showed you that I can walk?”
“Maybe I still deserve it.” He turned, then, to face her.
She locked her eyes with his. “You don’t. And you never did.” She wheeled herself closer to him. “Please, House. I want you to get better. And I know you don’t want to live like this.”
He frowned at her. “How do you know what I want?”
“You’re right.” She nodded slightly, taking in the heat of his words. “I don’t.”
Cuddy wheeled her chair back before turning it around. All of this, these past weeks, all of it meant nothing since House seemed to still have his walls so very high. He wasn’t letting her in, he wasn’t giving her anything. If he did, he took it away a second later. She couldn’t help him and that was why she was heading for his door.
“Cuddy,” he spoke up.
She stopped her wheelchair, before turning it enough to look at him. He raised his eyes to her.
“If you’ll be okay, then I’ll... you know.”
House gave a nod, never wanting to admit to anything of the positive note, but he did want to assure her that if things would be working out well for her, that they could do the same for him.
Cuddy nodded in response, letting him know she understood. She wheeled herself to his front door and opened it, not expecting any help from House. Once she was in his hall, she turned herself around to face him.
“I’ll see you Monday, House.”
He acknowledged her words and she fumbled around with his apartment door before closing it. She paused a moment outside of his closed door before taking out her cell phone and calling for a ride home.
Epilogue.
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.
(Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10.)
“Oh, God.”
House picked up his limping speed as he headed to his office. He knew based on experience that she would catch up to him in her wheelchair. He glanced back to see her gaining ground.
“Go away,” he told her.
“You thought I wouldn’t know you were in?” she replied and wheeled herself up to his side.
House stopped at the door to his office and turned towards her.
“I’m going to stop coming in if you don’t leave me alone,” he threatened.
“You might as well stop coming in now because it’s like you’re not even here half the time with all the drugs you take,” she said, staring right back at him.
“Okay, then.” House stepped around her and headed for the elevators. “See ya.”
Cuddy turned her chair in his direction. “If you leave right now, I’ll fire you.”
He stopped and faced her. “You tell me to go, then you tell me to stay-”
“Yeah, because I know your team is competent enough to handle your cases even if you are high.” Cuddy frowned and wheeled herself closer to him, allowing herself to lower her voice. “But, they are going to need you. And if you can’t kick the drugs, then I’ll have to fire you.”
House held back a sigh and shook his head slightly. “I can’t kick the drugs with my pain, Cuddy.”
“But, you don’t have to take them to the point where you’re gone, House,” she told him.
“I’m not,” he insisted, starting to grow very annoyed.
She frowned at him. “Not now. But, two days ago-”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he cut her off harshly and began to head toward the elevators again.
Cuddy wheeled herself after him. “I told you I wasn’t going to give up until you agreed to get help.”
“I would get help if I thought I needed it,” he called over his shoulder and then picked up his pace.
“You need it,” she replied.
House stopped and faced her for a second time. He let out a sigh and lowered his eyes to meet hers.
“We’ve been doing this for over a week,” he said. “I’m about to kill myself.”
Cuddy gave a simple shrug. “Well, that’s the price you pay for having me follow you around until you get the help you need.”
She placed a tight smile on her face, looking up at him. He nodded slightly as an idea formed in his mind. House limped around her as he hooked his cane on his wrist. He took the handles of her wheelchair in his hand and turned her around.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, her hands on her wheels.
Cuddy removed her hands from the wheels, however, as House began to push her down the hall. With his determination, she was afraid her hands would get injured in the struggle. He used her wheelchair to take some of the pressure off of his thigh as he limped along.
“House, stop.”
House did stop, but only to turn her around with him as he used his back to push open his office door. He entered and turned her back around before pushing her chair until she was in front of his desk. He took a step back, grabbed his cane, and began to head out of the room.
Cuddy turned her chair around and wheeled after him, but House had made sure the door was closed as he left. He glanced back at her and smirked, knowing it would be quite a struggle for her to get out of that room on her own. She glared at him in return. House gave a small wave and headed for the elevators.
“He hasn’t been in for days.”
Cuddy watched Wilson pace in her office. He was concerned and she was trying her best to reassure him that everything would hopefully pan out.
“He’s fine,” Cuddy told him.
Wilson stopped pacing and faced her, planting his hands to his hips. “I don’t think this is working. How do you know he’s fine?”
“I’m at his apartment before and after work,” Cuddy said.
Wilson raised his eyebrows. “He lets you in?”
“No.” She shook her head. “He never lets me in. Sometimes he talks to me through the door. But, mostly he has the TV blasting or he’s at the piano or... sometimes it’s quiet and it scares me, but he’s okay.”
“Why are you doing this for him, Lisa?” Wilson asked tiredly. He wanted House to get help, but he wasn’t sure if Cuddy’s route was the right one.
Her eyes met his. “For the same reasons you would if I wasn’t.”
The knocking was driving him crazy. House attempted to tune it out, but she was being relentless. He limped quickly to the door and opened it. His eyes went to Cuddy in her wheelchair for only a moment before he looked to an older gentleman standing beside her.
He was tall with slightly greying brown hair. He was dressed casually and had his hands in his pockets. His face was soft, which only disgusted House even more.
“Who the hell is this?” he demanded and put his focus back on Cuddy.
“I came to talk with you, Dr. House,” the man said and stuck out a hand. “I’m Dr. Felder.”
House shook his head and began to close the door. “No chance in hell.”
Cuddy quickly wedged her wheelchair in his doorway. House frowned down at her, not wanting to play this game right now. He wanted to go back to his bedroom, crawl under the covers, and stay there for the next twelve hours.
“Get out, Cuddy,” he told her harshly.
“No,” Cuddy replied.
House rested his cane against the wall before he leaned over her, his hands on her armrests. He tried to push her chair back, but failed, not realizing the brakes were now on. Cuddy could smell him, he was so close, a scent of alcohol and something else she couldn’t determine.
“I want you to get help,” she spoke loudly, wanting to be sure he heard her.
“Christ.” House straightened up and glared at her. “Stop it already. Please. And you know I don’t beg.”
“I’ll stop if you’ll agree to give me one week in counseling,” she bargained.
“No,” House instantly said.
“Just one week, House,” Cuddy pleaded. “That’s it. And I won’t bother you about it again.”
“I don’t believe you.”
House reached down and put both of her brakes off. He gave her wheelchair a harsh shove backwards, almost causing her to hit Dr. Felder in the process, and then slammed his door closed.
Cuddy set her jaw and looked up at Dr. Felder. “Yeah... I didn’t think that would work.”
“You look awful,” she said, staring up at him and observing his messy hair, tired eyes, and stained tee-shirt.
“Yeah,” he agreed gruffly. “Bring any doctors this week?”
“No,” she answered.
House turned from her, leaving the door open, and walked back over to his couch. He collapsed down onto it and closed his eyes. Cuddy wheeled herself into his apartment and closed the door behind herself.
“Heard you fell today,” House spoke up from the couch.
“I did.”
Cuddy wheeled herself over to the couch. She observed him there, wondering how much he had taken. He was definitely not all together.
“I’m okay, though,” she added in when House didn’t respond.
He opened one eye and looked over at her. “Why’d you fall?”
“I was walking.” She gave a small shrug. “Almost on my own. And then I went down.”
“You’re still in a chair.” He shut his eye and draped his arm over both closed eyes. “You’re not getting better.”
“You should come to my PT sometime,” she suggested. “I am getting better, House.”
“Right,” he agreed, but he didn’t believe it.
Cuddy fell silent and wheeled herself closer to the couch. She looked over his coffee table, littered with empty pill bottles as well as empty bottles of beer. She felt she was coming to the end of this, that she was losing ground on her plan. It wasn’t helping him.
“Why don’t you just OD already?” she asked and looked over at him.
“Because I hate myself,” he told her, wishing the room would stop feeling like it was spinning.
“No, really,” she replied. “Just do it.”
“Reverse psych, Cuddy?” House lifted his arm enough to glance over at her.
“No.” She shook her head. “I just want to know. You seem so eager to end your pain, I don’t know why you just don’t end your life.”
“Because being miserable is better than being dead,” House said and then quickly added, “or so I’ve heard.”
She softened her tone, hoping the switch would ease him into being honest with her. “What made you take so much today, House? Why today?”
“Why not today?” He let his arm slide over the edge of the couch. “Why not any day? Or everyday?”
“Last week, it was Monday and Friday,” she recounted the days he had been worse. “This week it was Monday again, Tuesday, and today. I don’t understand.”
“I’m surprised you don’t.”
Cuddy stared at him, confused. “How could I?”
“Go away,” he told her. “You’re giving me a headache.”
She eyed him up. “Are you going to be all right? Or should I let the hospital know you’ll be needing your stomach pumped later?”
“I’ll be just peachy when you get the hell out,” House bitterly responded.
“Right.” Cuddy gave a short nod. “See you tomorrow, House. If you show up.”
She was definitely losing her ground. New tactics didn’t throw him off guard enough to get somewhere, even when he was high. Feeling defeated, Cuddy wheeled herself to his door and let herself out.
That night, Cuddy remained awake in bed, thinking about House, thinking about herself, thinking about the day the collapse happened and everything it entailed. As she recounted her personal triumphs and failures in her physical therapy, she came to a realization.
It was on days where Cuddy had set backs in physical therapy that House would get really far gone with his drugs. She realized that she was the cause of his problem. He took more drugs over his chronic guilt.
As it stood now, she has good days and bad days, just like House. Their good days and bad days had become identical due to House’s reaction to her bad days. Cuddy felt like a fool for not becoming aware of it sooner.
She sat up in bed, wanting to talk to House, but she knew that was impossible. He wouldn’t be answering the phone and there was no way she could get to his house. She couldn’t walk on her own yet, let alone drive, and she certainly wasn’t going to get Sally up in the middle of the night to take her to House’s apartment.
With a quiet sigh, Cuddy rested back down. Her mind began to formulate a new plan. Of course, it was going to take work, but she felt it gave her even more drive to get better. She couldn’t wait to get to the hospital and to her physical therapy session.
“I have something to show you,” Cuddy told him after he finally let her into his apartment.
House leaned against the back of his couch, his eyes on her. “Do you?”
Cuddy reached down and moved her foot pedals to the side. She placed the brakes on and clutched the armrests. House watched intently, wondering if she was really going to try and stand.
Using her arms to help her, Cuddy stood to her feet and balanced. She removed her hands from her wheelchair and took a step forward with her right foot. Then, she took another, slightly fumbling step with her left.
House stared at her, not really believing it. He knew she was getting better, but he always saw her in the chair, which only enforced to him that she wasn’t going to walk.
Cuddy felt her legs starting to weaken. She still didn’t have the strength she wanted, even if she was improving. She turned and began for the chair, but she was worried she wasn’t going to make it. House sensed this, however, and limped over to her. He held onto her as she made her way back to the wheelchair.
“Thanks,” she said as they worked together to reach the chair.
Once she was seated, Cuddy looked up at him.
“See?” She raised her eyebrows. “I can walk. And I’ll do much better with practice. I’ll walk again, House. Just like before.”
“Like before.” He nodded slightly.
“Yeah,” she agreed. She lowered her gaze for a moment as she drew in a breath. “I know about the pills.”
“What?” House asked, feigning shock. “No. You don’t say.”
“I mean... I noticed about when you took more,” she corrected her statement. “It was on days when I had issues.”
“Yeah,” House replied quietly, finally giving her a little to work with.
“And you just saw me walk,” she added.
“So, what?” House’s voice turned hard and he made his way back over to the couch.
He stayed at the back of it, staring at the blank television. Cuddy wheeled herself towards him.
“So, you don’t have to stay in that dark place,” she said. “I’m getting better. Like before. And you can, too.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Maybe not, but it doesn’t have to be this hard, House,” she told him. “It doesn’t have to be this painful. Why continue to punish yourself when I just showed you that I can walk?”
“Maybe I still deserve it.” He turned, then, to face her.
She locked her eyes with his. “You don’t. And you never did.” She wheeled herself closer to him. “Please, House. I want you to get better. And I know you don’t want to live like this.”
He frowned at her. “How do you know what I want?”
“You’re right.” She nodded slightly, taking in the heat of his words. “I don’t.”
Cuddy wheeled her chair back before turning it around. All of this, these past weeks, all of it meant nothing since House seemed to still have his walls so very high. He wasn’t letting her in, he wasn’t giving her anything. If he did, he took it away a second later. She couldn’t help him and that was why she was heading for his door.
“Cuddy,” he spoke up.
She stopped her wheelchair, before turning it enough to look at him. He raised his eyes to her.
“If you’ll be okay, then I’ll... you know.”
House gave a nod, never wanting to admit to anything of the positive note, but he did want to assure her that if things would be working out well for her, that they could do the same for him.
Cuddy nodded in response, letting him know she understood. She wheeled herself to his front door and opened it, not expecting any help from House. Once she was in his hall, she turned herself around to face him.
“I’ll see you Monday, House.”
He acknowledged her words and she fumbled around with his apartment door before closing it. She paused a moment outside of his closed door before taking out her cell phone and calling for a ride home.
Epilogue.