Fic: Down to the Bone: Chapter Nine
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: This chapter is particularly dark and can be somewhat triggering, so please read with caution.
(Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three.Chapter Four.Chapter Five.Chapter Six.Chapter Seven.Chapter Eight.)
One, two, three, four, five. All blue. One, two, three, four, five. All blue. One, two, three, four, five. Two blue, three white. One, two, three, four, five, one, two, three, four, five, one two three four five one two three four five onetwothreefourfiveonetwothreefourfive... all white. Nine neat piles of five. Forty five altogether and she was unsure if it would do the trick.
Cuddy paced. She was freezing. Her fingers were thin and cold, her feet had two pairs of socks on them, and her sweatpants and sweatshirt hung from her. She paced.
“You can end this,” she muttered to herself. “Or pick up the phone. Or...”
She lightly touched a pile of dry tablets. She lined them up perfectly before backing away from her bathroom counter.
“It’s not... This is not... This is not what I wanted.”
A whine escaped her lips and she began pacing once more. She shook her head, shook her thoughts. She swallowed hard and stopped pacing. She glared at the tablets on the counter.
“Forty five,” she said to herself. “Forty five, forty five.”
Cuddy walked out her bathroom, leaving the light on behind her. She made her way around her bed and went out of the bedroom. The rest of the house was dark, but she didn’t bother to turn the lights on as she went into the kitchen.
After retrieving a glass from the cabinet, she filled it with water and drank it as fast as she could manage. Once the glass was drained, she placed it in the sink, breathing heavily.
“It’s not worth it.” She shook her head again and wiped her mouth on her sleeve. “Just... just...”
Cuddy left the kitchen and went back into her bedroom. The bathroom light cast enough into the room for her to still see as she reached for the phone on the night stand. She began dialing, but hung up. She paused a moment, her hands shaking, before dialing again.
After two rings, the familiar voice answered.
“I can’t call anyone,” she told him. “I can’t...”
“Lisa?” Wilson’s concern was clear in his tone. “What’s the matter? Are you okay?”
“No,” she answered. “No, no.”
“Do you need help?” he asked.
“No.” It came out as a whine.
“Can I come over?” he replied. “Will you let me in?”
“Yeah,” she responded.
“All right,” Wilson agreed. “I’m leaving now. Want me to call on my cell phone?”
“God, no,” she said.
“You’ll be okay until I get there?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll hurry,” he assured her.
Cuddy hung up the phone and stood for a good minute before making her way back out of her bedroom. She went into the dining room and sat down at the table. The pills were on her mind and she pushed the thoughts away as she forced herself to think about something else.
Food. When was the last time she had eaten? Yesterday. She had lunch, but didn’t eat again since House had left her. She thought about what she would eat if she so chose to now. However, she came up with nothing. The very thought of eating made her feel unstable.
With another whine escaping, Cuddy placed her face in her hands. She was going crazy, she had to be going crazy. Quickly, she stood up, her head spinning and her chair tipping over behind her. She stepped out into the hall and headed back to her bedroom.
Cuddy went around the bed and into the bathroom. The pills were on the counter still, each in their small groups. She went to them and began counting, making sure there truly were forty five. If she was going to take them, she wanted to be sure. Forty five. Thirty three white, twelve blue.
She stepped back from the counter and paced for a few seconds before sitting down on the toilet seat lid. She bit her bottom lip and stood back up.
“Stupid,” she muttered. “This is stupid.”
Cuddy went to the counter and picked up the empty prescription bottle. She began to place the white pills inside.
“You are so, so...”
She let out a cry of frustration and dropped the bottle fall into the sink. The pills fell from the orange bottle, scattering around the porcelain. She lost two down the drain. Shaking her head, she picked up the remaining sixteen she had placed in the bottle and set them back on the counter.
Frowning, Cuddy put the pills back into piles of five, but had one pile with only three after losing two. She bit the tip of her tongue, thinking. Gingerly, she picked up the three odd pills out and put them in her mouth.
They began to dissolve quickly, a bitter taste, as she turned the faucet on, soaking the empty orange prescription bottle. Cuddy drew the cold water into her mouth to help swallow the pills. Once she had, she turned the faucet off and dried her hands and face.
She drew in a breath as she padded back to the bathroom counter. Eight piles of five. Forty pills left. Twenty eight white, twelve blue.
The doorbell rang and she jumped. Cuddy hurried from the bathroom, turning off the light as she went. She left her bedroom and headed down the dark hallway to the front door. She unlocked the door and pulled it open.
Wilson was clearly concerned as he stood on her front porch. She let him in and he stepped inside cautiously, the darkness making him even more uneasy. Cuddy closed the door behind him.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “What happened?”
She couldn’t look him in the face. “I... I’m glad you’re here.”
“You haven’t let me in since you came home from the hospital,” Wilson pointed out.
“I know,” she replied.
Wilson waited for her to raise her eyes to him. “Why did you call me?”
“Can you... can we go into the living room?” she suggested, almost desperately.
“Sure.”
Wilson gave a nod and headed for the living room. Cuddy followed after him and turned on the lamp as he took a seat on the couch.
“I’ll get you a drink,” she told him. “I only have water.”
“That’s... fine,” he said.
“Okay.”
Cuddy turned and walked out of the living room. She left the lights off as she went into the kitchen, but not before picking up the knocked over dining room chair.
As she reached for a glass from the kitchen cabinet, she felt the room shift around her. She brought the glass down and closed her eyes against the movement.
It was the pills. She drew in a breath, still keeping her eyes closed. Her head felt lighter, she was beginning to feel disconnected from herself.
“Lisa?”
She straightened and looked to the doorway. Wilson stood there, still very concerned. She forced a smile to her face and turned from the counter. Cuddy took a step toward the refrigerator, but stumbled.
Wilson was at her side in a moment, holding her up. He brought her to the dining room table and sat her down.
“You all right?” he asked.
“I need to lie down,” she mumbled, eyes on his shoes.
“Lisa...”
She held onto him as she stood back to her feet. Wilson continued to support her as he led her from the dining room and to her bedroom. He helped Cuddy to her bed and she settled down onto her back.
“Are you feeling sick?”
“No,” she groaned.
“Warm?” He placed a hand to her forehead.
“No,” she replied.
“You feel a bit warm,” Wilson told her.
“I’m not warm,” Cuddy assured him.
“You may be running a fever,” he said. “Do you have a thermometer? Let me get it.”
Wilson moved around the bed and toward the bathroom. Cuddy sat up, the room swaying around her.
“James, no,” she protested. “No, James!”
He flicked the light on as he entered into her bathroom. She watched the empty doorway for a moment before he reappeared. He was in shock as his eyes went to her.
“What’re the pills for?” he questioned her, his voice calm.
“I wasn’t going to take them,” she quickly explained.
“How many have you already taken?” Wilson made his way back around the bed. “Is that why you’re sick?”
He stopped beside her and picked up the phone from the night stand. Cuddy frowned, eyebrows drawing together.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Calling nine one one,” he answered as he dialed.
Cuddy yanked the phone from him and hung up before he could hit send. She held the phone tightly.
“No,” she protested. “I didn’t-I only took three! Three of the white ones. They’re making me... I’m just feeling a little... I didn’t take any more than three. That won’t kill me.”
“The white ones?” He raised his eyebrows.
“Clonazepam,” she clarified. “And only three.”
“Where did you get that?”
Cuddy shook her head, her world blurring at the edges because of it.
“And the blue?” he said. “Valium?”
She refused to look at him. Wilson sat down on the bed and waited until she finally brought her eyes to him. He kept his voice even.
“How did you get them? Did House-”
“No,” she quickly cut him off.
Wilson stood back up. He pried the phone from her and placed it back on the night stand.
“You’re not staying here,” he told her.
“What?” She stared at him, the drugs making him go in and out of focus for a moment. “Oh, God, no, don’t do this. Please.”
“You want me to leave you alone knowing you’re going to take all those pills?” he asked, his voice rising in volume.
“I’m not-” She drew in a breath. “I wasn’t going to...”
“Then, why were they out?”
Cuddy never heard that angry tone directed at her before from his mouth. He took hold of her forearm.
“Come on.”
She resisted with a tug. “I don’t think I can walk.”
“Then, I’ll carry you.”
“You will not.”
Wilson reached down toward her and wrapped an arm around her backside while his other slid beneath her legs.
“James,” she pleaded. “God, please. Please, don’t do this.”
“You called me for a reason, didn’t you?”
“I did, but please...”
He lifted her up, the swinging motion just enough to almost make her throw up. She clutched onto Wilson, her environment surreal. He carried her from the bedroom and headed toward the front door.
“Please, James,” she begged quietly near his ear. “I don’t want to go away...”
“You’re not going away,” he told her gently. “We’re going to my place.”
Chapter Ten.
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: This chapter is particularly dark and can be somewhat triggering, so please read with caution.
(Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three.Chapter Four.Chapter Five.Chapter Six.Chapter Seven.Chapter Eight.)
One, two, three, four, five. All blue. One, two, three, four, five. All blue. One, two, three, four, five. Two blue, three white. One, two, three, four, five, one, two, three, four, five, one two three four five one two three four five onetwothreefourfiveonetwothreefourfive... all white. Nine neat piles of five. Forty five altogether and she was unsure if it would do the trick.
Cuddy paced. She was freezing. Her fingers were thin and cold, her feet had two pairs of socks on them, and her sweatpants and sweatshirt hung from her. She paced.
“You can end this,” she muttered to herself. “Or pick up the phone. Or...”
She lightly touched a pile of dry tablets. She lined them up perfectly before backing away from her bathroom counter.
“It’s not... This is not... This is not what I wanted.”
A whine escaped her lips and she began pacing once more. She shook her head, shook her thoughts. She swallowed hard and stopped pacing. She glared at the tablets on the counter.
“Forty five,” she said to herself. “Forty five, forty five.”
Cuddy walked out her bathroom, leaving the light on behind her. She made her way around her bed and went out of the bedroom. The rest of the house was dark, but she didn’t bother to turn the lights on as she went into the kitchen.
After retrieving a glass from the cabinet, she filled it with water and drank it as fast as she could manage. Once the glass was drained, she placed it in the sink, breathing heavily.
“It’s not worth it.” She shook her head again and wiped her mouth on her sleeve. “Just... just...”
Cuddy left the kitchen and went back into her bedroom. The bathroom light cast enough into the room for her to still see as she reached for the phone on the night stand. She began dialing, but hung up. She paused a moment, her hands shaking, before dialing again.
After two rings, the familiar voice answered.
“I can’t call anyone,” she told him. “I can’t...”
“Lisa?” Wilson’s concern was clear in his tone. “What’s the matter? Are you okay?”
“No,” she answered. “No, no.”
“Do you need help?” he asked.
“No.” It came out as a whine.
“Can I come over?” he replied. “Will you let me in?”
“Yeah,” she responded.
“All right,” Wilson agreed. “I’m leaving now. Want me to call on my cell phone?”
“God, no,” she said.
“You’ll be okay until I get there?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll hurry,” he assured her.
Cuddy hung up the phone and stood for a good minute before making her way back out of her bedroom. She went into the dining room and sat down at the table. The pills were on her mind and she pushed the thoughts away as she forced herself to think about something else.
Food. When was the last time she had eaten? Yesterday. She had lunch, but didn’t eat again since House had left her. She thought about what she would eat if she so chose to now. However, she came up with nothing. The very thought of eating made her feel unstable.
With another whine escaping, Cuddy placed her face in her hands. She was going crazy, she had to be going crazy. Quickly, she stood up, her head spinning and her chair tipping over behind her. She stepped out into the hall and headed back to her bedroom.
Cuddy went around the bed and into the bathroom. The pills were on the counter still, each in their small groups. She went to them and began counting, making sure there truly were forty five. If she was going to take them, she wanted to be sure. Forty five. Thirty three white, twelve blue.
She stepped back from the counter and paced for a few seconds before sitting down on the toilet seat lid. She bit her bottom lip and stood back up.
“Stupid,” she muttered. “This is stupid.”
Cuddy went to the counter and picked up the empty prescription bottle. She began to place the white pills inside.
“You are so, so...”
She let out a cry of frustration and dropped the bottle fall into the sink. The pills fell from the orange bottle, scattering around the porcelain. She lost two down the drain. Shaking her head, she picked up the remaining sixteen she had placed in the bottle and set them back on the counter.
Frowning, Cuddy put the pills back into piles of five, but had one pile with only three after losing two. She bit the tip of her tongue, thinking. Gingerly, she picked up the three odd pills out and put them in her mouth.
They began to dissolve quickly, a bitter taste, as she turned the faucet on, soaking the empty orange prescription bottle. Cuddy drew the cold water into her mouth to help swallow the pills. Once she had, she turned the faucet off and dried her hands and face.
She drew in a breath as she padded back to the bathroom counter. Eight piles of five. Forty pills left. Twenty eight white, twelve blue.
The doorbell rang and she jumped. Cuddy hurried from the bathroom, turning off the light as she went. She left her bedroom and headed down the dark hallway to the front door. She unlocked the door and pulled it open.
Wilson was clearly concerned as he stood on her front porch. She let him in and he stepped inside cautiously, the darkness making him even more uneasy. Cuddy closed the door behind him.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “What happened?”
She couldn’t look him in the face. “I... I’m glad you’re here.”
“You haven’t let me in since you came home from the hospital,” Wilson pointed out.
“I know,” she replied.
Wilson waited for her to raise her eyes to him. “Why did you call me?”
“Can you... can we go into the living room?” she suggested, almost desperately.
“Sure.”
Wilson gave a nod and headed for the living room. Cuddy followed after him and turned on the lamp as he took a seat on the couch.
“I’ll get you a drink,” she told him. “I only have water.”
“That’s... fine,” he said.
“Okay.”
Cuddy turned and walked out of the living room. She left the lights off as she went into the kitchen, but not before picking up the knocked over dining room chair.
As she reached for a glass from the kitchen cabinet, she felt the room shift around her. She brought the glass down and closed her eyes against the movement.
It was the pills. She drew in a breath, still keeping her eyes closed. Her head felt lighter, she was beginning to feel disconnected from herself.
“Lisa?”
She straightened and looked to the doorway. Wilson stood there, still very concerned. She forced a smile to her face and turned from the counter. Cuddy took a step toward the refrigerator, but stumbled.
Wilson was at her side in a moment, holding her up. He brought her to the dining room table and sat her down.
“You all right?” he asked.
“I need to lie down,” she mumbled, eyes on his shoes.
“Lisa...”
She held onto him as she stood back to her feet. Wilson continued to support her as he led her from the dining room and to her bedroom. He helped Cuddy to her bed and she settled down onto her back.
“Are you feeling sick?”
“No,” she groaned.
“Warm?” He placed a hand to her forehead.
“No,” she replied.
“You feel a bit warm,” Wilson told her.
“I’m not warm,” Cuddy assured him.
“You may be running a fever,” he said. “Do you have a thermometer? Let me get it.”
Wilson moved around the bed and toward the bathroom. Cuddy sat up, the room swaying around her.
“James, no,” she protested. “No, James!”
He flicked the light on as he entered into her bathroom. She watched the empty doorway for a moment before he reappeared. He was in shock as his eyes went to her.
“What’re the pills for?” he questioned her, his voice calm.
“I wasn’t going to take them,” she quickly explained.
“How many have you already taken?” Wilson made his way back around the bed. “Is that why you’re sick?”
He stopped beside her and picked up the phone from the night stand. Cuddy frowned, eyebrows drawing together.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Calling nine one one,” he answered as he dialed.
Cuddy yanked the phone from him and hung up before he could hit send. She held the phone tightly.
“No,” she protested. “I didn’t-I only took three! Three of the white ones. They’re making me... I’m just feeling a little... I didn’t take any more than three. That won’t kill me.”
“The white ones?” He raised his eyebrows.
“Clonazepam,” she clarified. “And only three.”
“Where did you get that?”
Cuddy shook her head, her world blurring at the edges because of it.
“And the blue?” he said. “Valium?”
She refused to look at him. Wilson sat down on the bed and waited until she finally brought her eyes to him. He kept his voice even.
“How did you get them? Did House-”
“No,” she quickly cut him off.
Wilson stood back up. He pried the phone from her and placed it back on the night stand.
“You’re not staying here,” he told her.
“What?” She stared at him, the drugs making him go in and out of focus for a moment. “Oh, God, no, don’t do this. Please.”
“You want me to leave you alone knowing you’re going to take all those pills?” he asked, his voice rising in volume.
“I’m not-” She drew in a breath. “I wasn’t going to...”
“Then, why were they out?”
Cuddy never heard that angry tone directed at her before from his mouth. He took hold of her forearm.
“Come on.”
She resisted with a tug. “I don’t think I can walk.”
“Then, I’ll carry you.”
“You will not.”
Wilson reached down toward her and wrapped an arm around her backside while his other slid beneath her legs.
“James,” she pleaded. “God, please. Please, don’t do this.”
“You called me for a reason, didn’t you?”
“I did, but please...”
He lifted her up, the swinging motion just enough to almost make her throw up. She clutched onto Wilson, her environment surreal. He carried her from the bedroom and headed toward the front door.
“Please, James,” she begged quietly near his ear. “I don’t want to go away...”
“You’re not going away,” he told her gently. “We’re going to my place.”
Chapter Ten.