Fic: Down to the Bone: Chapter Five
Title: Down to the Bone
Rating: R
Warning: Sensitive and triggering material.
Disclaimer: I don't own House M.D. or the characters. They belong to Fox and David Shore.
Summary: Cuddy develops an eating disorder. Takes place with House's old team.
Author's Note: Sorry it's taken me a while to get this out. School's been busy. Hopefully there won't be too long of a wait until the next one.
(Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three.Chapter Four.)
Wilson opened his office door and let House in. House limped his way over to the couch and sat down as Wilson closed the door. Clearing his throat, House leaned back into the couch cushions, awaiting the response from Wilson that House already knew he was going to give him.
After seeing Cuddy in the morning, appearing paler and even thinner as her clothes hung off of her body, House advised Wilson to check into it and give feedback.
“You’re right.” Wilson told House. “You were right.”
“If only you believed me before,” House replied, glad Wilson had finally come around. “We could have put a stop to this before it got this bad.”
“But, she hid it well.” Wilson frowned as he walked over to the chair behind his desk. “And besides, I never thought this would happen to her.”
“Well, it did,” House shrugged.
“How long are we going to let it go on?” Wilson asked, hoping House had some direction.
“There’s nothing we can do,” he said. “She doesn’t want help.”
“She needs it,” Wilson insisted.
House shrugged again. “She won’t take it if she feels she doesn’t need it.”
“But, she’s killing herself, House!” Wilson exclaimed, a look of fear mixed with concern on his face.
“So?” House bluntly responded with a raise of his eyebrows.
“You’re telling me that you don’t care,” Wilson concluded, not really believing the statement, but he was trying to evoke some sort of solution to the problem from House.
“Why should I?” House asked him. “She obviously doesn’t care about herself.”
“You went to her house last week when she didn’t show up to work,” Wilson said. “You kept trying to convince me of what was going on with her. You obviously care.”
House drew in a breath as he stood to his feet.
“Can’t help the unwilling.”
With that, House headed for the door and left Wilson’s office. He had a patient and he figured he might as well get to work instead of worrying over Cuddy considering his patient was paying and actually wanted help.
She wasn’t focused at all. Her hands were freezing and her mind was buzzing a slow drone that she couldn’t block out. If she wasn’t enveloped by the white noise in her head, she was thinking about the twisting in her stomach. She wanted to eat.
“Dr. Cuddy?”
Looking to the source of the voice, Cuddy realized she hadn’t been paying any attention to the meeting for at least ten minutes. Her work was suffering severely. She cleared her throat.
“Uh, I’m sorry, but I seem to have...” she trailed off. She was drowning in her mind. “I, um...”
“Are you all right, Dr. Cuddy?” Dr. Rosenbloom asked her before giving a glance to the other two doctors in the room.
Cuddy hesitated a moment before shaking her head. “No, actually, I’m feeling a bit sick. Do you mind if we arrange this for another time? Next week?”
“Yeah, sure.” Dr. Hartzel nodded enthusiastically, his concern obvious. “Do you want me to get you some water or something?”
“No, no...” She drew in a sharp breath. “I’m fine, thanks.”
Dr. Brent looked up from his palm pilot. “Is next Thursday okay for the meeting, then? About the same time?”
“Yeah, I’m sure it will be,” Cuddy answered. “I’ll move my schedule around to make it work.”
Cuddy pushed her chair back and stood to her feet. She moved around her chair as soft black circles suddenly clouded her vision until she could see nothing else.
The voices in the room faded and the next thing she knew she was staring up at the ceiling with Dr. Hartzel and Dr. Rosenbloom hovering around her.
“Dr. Cuddy?” Dr. Hartzel was shaking her gently. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” she said. “I’m fine.”
With the help of Dr. Hartzel, she sat up as her senses came back to her. Dr. Brent handed a glass of water to her. She thanked him and took a long drink from it, cursing herself out in her mind for being so stupid and not heeding the warning signs she had been experiencing all morning that told her this might happen.
Cuddy handed the glass back to Dr. Brent before forcing herself to her feet. Dr. Hartzel quickly held onto her arm.
“Maybe you should sit a while longer,” he suggested.
“No.” Cuddy shook her head. “I skipped breakfast this morning. It’s nothing. Really. Thank you.”
She felt a flush crawling up into her pale cheeks. She picked up her folder from the conference table.
“Next Thursday it is, then,” she muttered.
“Dr. Cuddy, why don’t we head down to cafeteria?” Dr. Hartzel asked. “It’s about lunch time and if you need to eat, maybe we could finish up the meeting there.”
Cuddy frowned. “I really don’t have time-”
“But, you need to eat,” Dr. Hartzel replied. “It’s on me.”
In that moment, she wondered if they all knew. She figured they must have suspicions and refusing the offer only meant confirming their suspicions. As much as Cuddy didn’t want to go, she figured she might as well. If word got out that she passed out and then refused to eat, it would only hasten rumors she figured were already being spread.
“Fine,” she gave in and headed for the door.
Wilson gave a gentle tap on House’s office door before entering. House looked up from the medical chart on his desk.
“I need to talk to you,” Wilson said.
“Little busy,” he replied and placed his attention back on the chart in front of him.
“Cuddy passed out today,” Wilson informed him.
House picked his head back up quickly, but he held back any concern in his voice. “When?”
“During a meeting about an hour ago,” Wilson answered.
“And?” House prompted and looked back at the chart.
“And she passed out.” Wilson crossed toward House’s desk. “Because she’s not eating. You care one day and don’t the next. What gives, House? We have to help her.”
House let out a sigh and brought his eyes back up to Wilson. “I told you already. We can only help if she wants help. And she doesn’t. Problem solved.”
“Not solved, ignored,” Wilson corrected. “We can’t ignore this.”
“So, how do you suppose anyone can fix this if she doesn’t want help?” House asked him.
Wilson frowned. “I don’t know, but we have to do something.”
“There’s nothing we can do,” House told him.
“I won’t give up on her,” Wilson replied, trying to keep his anger at bay since House was clearly giving up entirely. “Not yet.”
Wilson turned and stormed out of House’s office. House let out another sigh. He couldn’t get back to work now. Not after what Wilson had just told him. House picked up his cane and stood to his feet before heading from his office.
Cuddy removed her fingers from her mouth just as she threw up spaghetti into the toilet in her personal bathroom. She felt an instant burning in her nose and blew it hard in the direction of the toilet, watching as a piece of onion projected itself, causing the burning to subside.
She drew in a few breaths and stared at the contents in the toilet. It wasn’t enough. She shoved her fingers back into her mouth until she threw up again. She hated doing this and she wouldn’t have had to if she wasn’t forced to eat by the three men in the meeting with her.
After she started the eating machine, she found she couldn’t stop it until she was incredibly full. She had control, she knew that, but when she lost that control in a moment of weakness, that’s when all hell would break lose.
Cuddy coughed and sputtered into the toilet before sucking in a deep breath. She jumped when her bathroom door banged open. She caught a glimpse of House before she diverted her eyes back to the toilet bowl, a numerous amount of lies running through her mind of which to tell him.
“I thought you said you didn’t do that,” House spoke, remaining in the doorway.
“I thought I locked the door,” she replied as she flushed the toilet, keeping her vomit covered hand hidden from his view.
He shrugged. “You did.”
She forced herself to her feet, her head throbbing, but her stomach feeling lighter. Cuddy walked toward the sink on two unsteady feet.
“My lunch didn’t agree with me,” she told him.
Still not making eye contact, Cuddy turned on the water and rinsed her hands quickly before washing her mouth out. House watched her, a heaviness coming over him as he realized she was truly destroying herself.
“You’ve got to stop this,” he said.
“Stop what?” Cuddy asked, finally looking to him, her eyebrows raised, her eyes blank, her face dripping with water.
House locked eyes with her. “You know what.”
She held his eyes contact. “No, I don’t.”
“You’re making yourself throw up,” he accused.
“It’s a stomach bug,” she insisted and grabbed a few paper towels to wipe her face with.
“You’re killing yourself,” he replied.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Cuddy shrugged innocently as she threw the paper towels away.
“You passed out today.”
“Yeah?” Cuddy planted a hand to her hip. “Where’d you hear that?”
“Wilson,” House answered.
“Well, he was misinformed because I didn’t,” she hotly told him.
“Why are you lying to me?” House asked her.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Cuddy looked away then because she couldn’t stand to look into the eyes that could see right through her. She headed toward the doorway.
“I have work to do,” she mumbled as she squeezed past him into her office.
House turned in the doorway and watched as she made her way over to her desk.
“I just don’t understand why you’re doing this to yourself,” he said harshly, wanting her to tell him the truth already.
Cuddy slammed her palms down onto the top of her desk. She glared at House.
“God, House, can you drop it? I’m not doing anything, now get the hell out!”
“No,” he replied and limped toward her. “Not until you give me an honest answer.”
“I am!” she insisted.
“You are not, Cuddy, and we both know you’re not,” he told her.
“Get out of my damn office, House,” Cuddy commanded, eyes locked with his. “Now.”
“No.”
With an angry sigh, Cuddy headed for her office door in order to open it and start the process of getting House out. She hoped screaming at him with the door open would get him to eventually give in and go. Halfway there, however, she slowed her pace as her heart gave a flutter before everything went dark.
House watched Cuddy collapse to the floor and he stared at her for a few seconds before limping as fast as possible to her. He knelt beside her, ignoring the burn in his right thigh.
“Cuddy.”
He shook her gently before placing two gentle fingers against her neck. Nothing. He looked to her chest. She wasn’t breathing.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.
House forced himself up and limped toward the door. He pulled it open and looked out at the Clinic.
“Help!” he yelled, getting the attention of a nurse and a few bystanders. “I need a crash cart in here. Now!”
House left the door open as he headed back over to Cuddy. He knelt beside her again as he tilted her head back. He put his ear at her parted lips, determining if she was now breathing. She wasn’t.
He pinched her nostrils together as his lips went to hers. He breathed out into her and pulled back before doing it once more. House shifted his weight as he began chest compressions. He looked to her face. She looked even paler than before.
House bent back over her and pinched her nose again. He administered a breath into her as Nurse Previn entered into the office with the crash cart.
“What happened?” she asked, staring down at her unconscious superior.
“Get the defibrillator,” House commanded, ignoring the question.
As Nurse Previn followed his order, House unbuttoned Cuddy’s long sleeved shirt. Once he finished and pulled the fabric away from her skin, he stared at the ribs pressed against her taut skin.
“Dr. House?”
House snapped to attention as he looked up to Nurse Previn and took the paddles, already coated with gel, from her. She quickly bent over Cuddy and removed the necklace from her as House placed the paddles in their proper position.
“Clear,” House said as Nurse Previn stepped back while he shocked Cuddy’s heart.
Her body convulsed before resting back down. House felt for a pulse. Still nothing.
“We have to shock her again.”
House readjusted the paddles, giving Nurse Previn enough time to deal with the machine before he continued. When he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that she stopped her movement, he shocked Cuddy’s heart for a second time.
Once her body was still again after the second shock, Cuddy drew in a sharp breath. House let out a sigh of relief and felt her pulse. It was a little thready, but it was there. He looked to Nurse Previn.
“We need to get her out of here.”
Nurse Previn nodded and hurried out of the office. House brought his eyes back down to Cuddy. He felt sick, wondering if he hadn’t bothered to come to her office, if she would have died right then and there.
Chapter Six.
Rating: R
Warning: Sensitive and triggering material.
Disclaimer: I don't own House M.D. or the characters. They belong to Fox and David Shore.
Summary: Cuddy develops an eating disorder. Takes place with House's old team.
Author's Note: Sorry it's taken me a while to get this out. School's been busy. Hopefully there won't be too long of a wait until the next one.
(Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three.Chapter Four.)
Wilson opened his office door and let House in. House limped his way over to the couch and sat down as Wilson closed the door. Clearing his throat, House leaned back into the couch cushions, awaiting the response from Wilson that House already knew he was going to give him.
After seeing Cuddy in the morning, appearing paler and even thinner as her clothes hung off of her body, House advised Wilson to check into it and give feedback.
“You’re right.” Wilson told House. “You were right.”
“If only you believed me before,” House replied, glad Wilson had finally come around. “We could have put a stop to this before it got this bad.”
“But, she hid it well.” Wilson frowned as he walked over to the chair behind his desk. “And besides, I never thought this would happen to her.”
“Well, it did,” House shrugged.
“How long are we going to let it go on?” Wilson asked, hoping House had some direction.
“There’s nothing we can do,” he said. “She doesn’t want help.”
“She needs it,” Wilson insisted.
House shrugged again. “She won’t take it if she feels she doesn’t need it.”
“But, she’s killing herself, House!” Wilson exclaimed, a look of fear mixed with concern on his face.
“So?” House bluntly responded with a raise of his eyebrows.
“You’re telling me that you don’t care,” Wilson concluded, not really believing the statement, but he was trying to evoke some sort of solution to the problem from House.
“Why should I?” House asked him. “She obviously doesn’t care about herself.”
“You went to her house last week when she didn’t show up to work,” Wilson said. “You kept trying to convince me of what was going on with her. You obviously care.”
House drew in a breath as he stood to his feet.
“Can’t help the unwilling.”
With that, House headed for the door and left Wilson’s office. He had a patient and he figured he might as well get to work instead of worrying over Cuddy considering his patient was paying and actually wanted help.
She wasn’t focused at all. Her hands were freezing and her mind was buzzing a slow drone that she couldn’t block out. If she wasn’t enveloped by the white noise in her head, she was thinking about the twisting in her stomach. She wanted to eat.
“Dr. Cuddy?”
Looking to the source of the voice, Cuddy realized she hadn’t been paying any attention to the meeting for at least ten minutes. Her work was suffering severely. She cleared her throat.
“Uh, I’m sorry, but I seem to have...” she trailed off. She was drowning in her mind. “I, um...”
“Are you all right, Dr. Cuddy?” Dr. Rosenbloom asked her before giving a glance to the other two doctors in the room.
Cuddy hesitated a moment before shaking her head. “No, actually, I’m feeling a bit sick. Do you mind if we arrange this for another time? Next week?”
“Yeah, sure.” Dr. Hartzel nodded enthusiastically, his concern obvious. “Do you want me to get you some water or something?”
“No, no...” She drew in a sharp breath. “I’m fine, thanks.”
Dr. Brent looked up from his palm pilot. “Is next Thursday okay for the meeting, then? About the same time?”
“Yeah, I’m sure it will be,” Cuddy answered. “I’ll move my schedule around to make it work.”
Cuddy pushed her chair back and stood to her feet. She moved around her chair as soft black circles suddenly clouded her vision until she could see nothing else.
The voices in the room faded and the next thing she knew she was staring up at the ceiling with Dr. Hartzel and Dr. Rosenbloom hovering around her.
“Dr. Cuddy?” Dr. Hartzel was shaking her gently. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” she said. “I’m fine.”
With the help of Dr. Hartzel, she sat up as her senses came back to her. Dr. Brent handed a glass of water to her. She thanked him and took a long drink from it, cursing herself out in her mind for being so stupid and not heeding the warning signs she had been experiencing all morning that told her this might happen.
Cuddy handed the glass back to Dr. Brent before forcing herself to her feet. Dr. Hartzel quickly held onto her arm.
“Maybe you should sit a while longer,” he suggested.
“No.” Cuddy shook her head. “I skipped breakfast this morning. It’s nothing. Really. Thank you.”
She felt a flush crawling up into her pale cheeks. She picked up her folder from the conference table.
“Next Thursday it is, then,” she muttered.
“Dr. Cuddy, why don’t we head down to cafeteria?” Dr. Hartzel asked. “It’s about lunch time and if you need to eat, maybe we could finish up the meeting there.”
Cuddy frowned. “I really don’t have time-”
“But, you need to eat,” Dr. Hartzel replied. “It’s on me.”
In that moment, she wondered if they all knew. She figured they must have suspicions and refusing the offer only meant confirming their suspicions. As much as Cuddy didn’t want to go, she figured she might as well. If word got out that she passed out and then refused to eat, it would only hasten rumors she figured were already being spread.
“Fine,” she gave in and headed for the door.
Wilson gave a gentle tap on House’s office door before entering. House looked up from the medical chart on his desk.
“I need to talk to you,” Wilson said.
“Little busy,” he replied and placed his attention back on the chart in front of him.
“Cuddy passed out today,” Wilson informed him.
House picked his head back up quickly, but he held back any concern in his voice. “When?”
“During a meeting about an hour ago,” Wilson answered.
“And?” House prompted and looked back at the chart.
“And she passed out.” Wilson crossed toward House’s desk. “Because she’s not eating. You care one day and don’t the next. What gives, House? We have to help her.”
House let out a sigh and brought his eyes back up to Wilson. “I told you already. We can only help if she wants help. And she doesn’t. Problem solved.”
“Not solved, ignored,” Wilson corrected. “We can’t ignore this.”
“So, how do you suppose anyone can fix this if she doesn’t want help?” House asked him.
Wilson frowned. “I don’t know, but we have to do something.”
“There’s nothing we can do,” House told him.
“I won’t give up on her,” Wilson replied, trying to keep his anger at bay since House was clearly giving up entirely. “Not yet.”
Wilson turned and stormed out of House’s office. House let out another sigh. He couldn’t get back to work now. Not after what Wilson had just told him. House picked up his cane and stood to his feet before heading from his office.
Cuddy removed her fingers from her mouth just as she threw up spaghetti into the toilet in her personal bathroom. She felt an instant burning in her nose and blew it hard in the direction of the toilet, watching as a piece of onion projected itself, causing the burning to subside.
She drew in a few breaths and stared at the contents in the toilet. It wasn’t enough. She shoved her fingers back into her mouth until she threw up again. She hated doing this and she wouldn’t have had to if she wasn’t forced to eat by the three men in the meeting with her.
After she started the eating machine, she found she couldn’t stop it until she was incredibly full. She had control, she knew that, but when she lost that control in a moment of weakness, that’s when all hell would break lose.
Cuddy coughed and sputtered into the toilet before sucking in a deep breath. She jumped when her bathroom door banged open. She caught a glimpse of House before she diverted her eyes back to the toilet bowl, a numerous amount of lies running through her mind of which to tell him.
“I thought you said you didn’t do that,” House spoke, remaining in the doorway.
“I thought I locked the door,” she replied as she flushed the toilet, keeping her vomit covered hand hidden from his view.
He shrugged. “You did.”
She forced herself to her feet, her head throbbing, but her stomach feeling lighter. Cuddy walked toward the sink on two unsteady feet.
“My lunch didn’t agree with me,” she told him.
Still not making eye contact, Cuddy turned on the water and rinsed her hands quickly before washing her mouth out. House watched her, a heaviness coming over him as he realized she was truly destroying herself.
“You’ve got to stop this,” he said.
“Stop what?” Cuddy asked, finally looking to him, her eyebrows raised, her eyes blank, her face dripping with water.
House locked eyes with her. “You know what.”
She held his eyes contact. “No, I don’t.”
“You’re making yourself throw up,” he accused.
“It’s a stomach bug,” she insisted and grabbed a few paper towels to wipe her face with.
“You’re killing yourself,” he replied.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Cuddy shrugged innocently as she threw the paper towels away.
“You passed out today.”
“Yeah?” Cuddy planted a hand to her hip. “Where’d you hear that?”
“Wilson,” House answered.
“Well, he was misinformed because I didn’t,” she hotly told him.
“Why are you lying to me?” House asked her.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Cuddy looked away then because she couldn’t stand to look into the eyes that could see right through her. She headed toward the doorway.
“I have work to do,” she mumbled as she squeezed past him into her office.
House turned in the doorway and watched as she made her way over to her desk.
“I just don’t understand why you’re doing this to yourself,” he said harshly, wanting her to tell him the truth already.
Cuddy slammed her palms down onto the top of her desk. She glared at House.
“God, House, can you drop it? I’m not doing anything, now get the hell out!”
“No,” he replied and limped toward her. “Not until you give me an honest answer.”
“I am!” she insisted.
“You are not, Cuddy, and we both know you’re not,” he told her.
“Get out of my damn office, House,” Cuddy commanded, eyes locked with his. “Now.”
“No.”
With an angry sigh, Cuddy headed for her office door in order to open it and start the process of getting House out. She hoped screaming at him with the door open would get him to eventually give in and go. Halfway there, however, she slowed her pace as her heart gave a flutter before everything went dark.
House watched Cuddy collapse to the floor and he stared at her for a few seconds before limping as fast as possible to her. He knelt beside her, ignoring the burn in his right thigh.
“Cuddy.”
He shook her gently before placing two gentle fingers against her neck. Nothing. He looked to her chest. She wasn’t breathing.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.
House forced himself up and limped toward the door. He pulled it open and looked out at the Clinic.
“Help!” he yelled, getting the attention of a nurse and a few bystanders. “I need a crash cart in here. Now!”
House left the door open as he headed back over to Cuddy. He knelt beside her again as he tilted her head back. He put his ear at her parted lips, determining if she was now breathing. She wasn’t.
He pinched her nostrils together as his lips went to hers. He breathed out into her and pulled back before doing it once more. House shifted his weight as he began chest compressions. He looked to her face. She looked even paler than before.
House bent back over her and pinched her nose again. He administered a breath into her as Nurse Previn entered into the office with the crash cart.
“What happened?” she asked, staring down at her unconscious superior.
“Get the defibrillator,” House commanded, ignoring the question.
As Nurse Previn followed his order, House unbuttoned Cuddy’s long sleeved shirt. Once he finished and pulled the fabric away from her skin, he stared at the ribs pressed against her taut skin.
“Dr. House?”
House snapped to attention as he looked up to Nurse Previn and took the paddles, already coated with gel, from her. She quickly bent over Cuddy and removed the necklace from her as House placed the paddles in their proper position.
“Clear,” House said as Nurse Previn stepped back while he shocked Cuddy’s heart.
Her body convulsed before resting back down. House felt for a pulse. Still nothing.
“We have to shock her again.”
House readjusted the paddles, giving Nurse Previn enough time to deal with the machine before he continued. When he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that she stopped her movement, he shocked Cuddy’s heart for a second time.
Once her body was still again after the second shock, Cuddy drew in a sharp breath. House let out a sigh of relief and felt her pulse. It was a little thready, but it was there. He looked to Nurse Previn.
“We need to get her out of here.”
Nurse Previn nodded and hurried out of the office. House brought his eyes back down to Cuddy. He felt sick, wondering if he hadn’t bothered to come to her office, if she would have died right then and there.
Chapter Six.