Rp for l_cuddy_md
House ended up going back to his room, after meeting that blonde woman down in the lobby. He'd had a crap enough day as it was; the way the morning had turned out with Cuddy, meeting Wilson in the bar, getting punched in the face by John. Yeah, he wasn't interested in his day getting any more crap than it already was, and hanging around downstairs
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"Just as well," he replied, pulling a face, though because his mouth was full of food his words were distorted. He gestured to his plate impatiently while trying to swallow his mouthful. "Pickle would contaminate this," he added once he'd swallowed, picking up another chip. "If you had ordered this with pickle, I'd have demanded a prompt replacement Reuben and some kind of compensation on your part. Or maybe just make you eat the pickle."
He busied himself with taking another bite of the sandwich, followed by a few chips. "This tastes better than the Reuben they offer back in Princeton," he said as he angled the sandwich up to his mouth for another bite. He paused for a moment, his comment causing a sudden flashback of memories of Princeton, of the hospital, of his job. It was tough to think he'd been succeeded by Foreman of all people, even if it was only temporary, though House doubted the whole Diagnostics department would survive. Because, well, Cuddy had helped him set that department up and... He frowned, shaking the thoughts from his mind and took a bite of his food.
"Wonder what we're supposed to do with ourselves in here?" he remarked as he chewed, leaning back against the headboard. "Job prospects? What could people possibly offer a place that has everything it needs?" He looked across at Cuddy. "Chip?" he asked, holding the plate towards Cuddy.
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She pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees as House dug into his food. Her expression grew pensive as he mentioned Princeton. She couldn't help but wonder what was happening there, how the hospital was doing, even though it apparently wasn't her concern anymore. They'd have a new Dean by now. The Diagnostics department would've been absorbed back into the Department of Internal Medicine now that House was gone and his fellows would've scattered to other places. Oncology, too, would have a new director. A lot of changes for the hospital to make in a short time, but she knew how it worked. The changes would be made and life would go on and only a few people would even think about the days that she, House, and Wilson had been there.
"This place is the perfect set up for a hedonist, but for the rest of us...." Cuddy shook off House's offer of a chip and considered his question. She supposed that a few people would be just as happy to while away their time, but she certainly couldn't imagine passing the rest of her days in idle pursuits. It was the same problem she'd had adjusting all along, her need to have some kind of purpose.
"There is a clinic. I suppose the three of us could take shifts, assuming anyone needed medical attention." She tilted her head, looking sideways at House. "You could go back to avoiding your shifts. It'd be just like home."
Even if manning the clinic could provide enough work to keep them busy, she wasn't sure she wanted to do that yet. It was tempting, but like Wilson had said--she didn't want to get too comfortable here. Not unless or until she knew there was no other option.
"Wilson and I are going to try to organize a meeting of all the guests," she said hesitantly. She knew House hated being here as much as she did, but he'd been extremely resistant to considering the possibility of escape. She suspected he was simply trying to avoid more disappointment, but the bottom line was that she wasn't sure how much support he'd give to the idea of a meeting.
"We want to pool everyone's knowledge and information, see if there's anything useful."
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The sour look on House's face soured even more when Cuddy then went on to say about her and Wilson organising a meeting. He looked down to his meal and concentrated on feeding himself a few more chips followed by a bite of his sandwich before looking back to Cuddy as he chewed. "And you really think," he began after he swallowed the majority of his mouthful, "that a bunch of freaks and everyday morons are going to have the answer to getting out of here?"
It was true: House was dead against the idea of attempting to escape because he truly didn't want to avoid disappointment if his attempts failed. He hated failure, he hated being defeated, and the last thing he wanted was something as big as this Hotel proving him defeated. So, it was easier to pretend there was no escape whatsoever and therefore no point in trying to escape so that he couldn't be proven right and proved a failure in the process.
Not only that, but after going home for those twenty-four hours... House didn't like the idea of returning to a place where he was completely forgotten and treated as dead.
"And what if you do find a way out of here?" he pressed on, now looking at Cuddy challengingly. "What're you going to do then? Go back home, where your house is probably sold up and where your job belongs to someone else, and where everybody will just look at you and go, 'Who the hell are you?'? You do get home, you'll probably find all your assets seized, all your bank accounts shut and an epitaph in the cemetary with 'Lisa Cuddy: Dead (we think)'."
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That's what she was counting on, of course. Her hope was that one of the unusual guests at the hotel would have some knowledge that would give them an answer. Or maybe just that one of the 'freaks' would be capable of thinking outside the box. It wouldn't be any different to what House did all the time, finding a unique perspective on a problem. He did it with diseases; maybe one of the guests could do it with a creepy hotel.
Cuddy met House's gaze as he reminded her--again--that she had nothing left at home. He was right, but he was ignoring the fact that at home there was the possibility of having something. The alternative was the Hotel, and what kind of life could that be? The only truly good thing that she'd found here was having sex with House and that wasn't a purpose. It wasn't a goal. And frankly, it wasn't something they could do 24/7. There's be a whole lot of empty hours to fill.
"Maybe it's different for you. You had everything you wanted--mostly--and now it's gone," she said. She knew all too well how much that hurt. It had been enough to knock her on her ass, too. Everything she'd worked so hard for had been tossed out, apparently without a second thought.
"But for me...I only had half of what I wanted. And going home proved that half wasn't worth much," she continued. A career had been great, it's what she'd worked for, but she'd truly missed the boat when it came to home and family. That's what she wasn't ready to give up on.
She gave a small shrug, knowing House had pretty much eliminated the concept of hope from his life. She wasn't sure he'd understand her need to hope. She was pretty sure he wouldn't approve of it.
"I still want that other half. Going home would be a second chance to have it. Try to have it, anyway. I'm not going to get that chance here."
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But what if he got out of here, or was for some reason kicked out of here if the Hotel ever had enough of him for whatever purpose, and found himself back in Princeton? No job, no money, no home, nobody. He started to scowl darkly at Cuddy as these thoughts went through his mind.
"The other half," he said snidely. "Right. The other half being what? Marriage? Kids? A relationship with some guy who's not Mr. Lameass Can't Get A Woman To Save His Life from the internet?" He brushed his hands over his plate to clean them of crumbs, then turned away to set the plate down with a firm slap on the side table.
House then looked back to Cuddy. "Here's a thought for you," he continued in a snippy tone. "I'm pushing fifty. I'm crippled. I've been fired from four jobs before you were stupid enough to take me on. I now have no home, no money, in this day and age pushing fifty and crippled is deemed virtually unemployable, and I'd say my chances of surviving back home, should I ever end up back there, are about zero to none. Easy for you to say that you still want 'the other half'."
He was starting to get angry, because thinking about this kind of thing made him panic. He didn't like thinking about it -- another reason why he didn't like thinking about escape because what would become of him if he did end up back home? He started to shove the sheets back, with the intention of getting out of bed to go... somewhere. To pace or go to the bathroom or something.
"Given your age and how much your choice in men sucks, I'm willing to bet your stab at a second chance would be just as negligible back home, too."
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"So stay here," she sniped back when he pointed out all the reasons he didn't want to go home. "If you're so sure this is better, stay. Just don't expect everyone else to stay because you're afraid to go home."
"Thanks so much. It's always heartwarming to hear your low opinion of me." Her mouth snapped shut at House's final jab. She yanked the sheet up, clutching it to her chest as she gave an angry shake of her head. "Do you think that you're the first person to tell me I'm not good enough, that I don't deserve the things I want?
"The medical profession, especially at the administrative level, is still very much an old boy's club. And those old boys didn't want me--young, female--crashing their party. And every time one of them told me I wasn't good enough, I worked twice as hard, twice as smart. Every time they tried to stop me, I found a way around. I became one of the youngest Deans of Medicine because I refused to accept that I didn't deserve it."
She crossed her arms over her chest, her chin jutted out defiantly. She didn't know how to convince House that the situation wasn't as dire as he thought. That if they got home they'd figure something out. Maybe it would take the three of them--she, House and Wilson--working together, but they'd manage. She didn't know how to make him understand that, but she wasn't going to let him convince her otherwise in the meantime.
"So go ahead--tell me I'm not good enough. It just increases my motivation to succeed."
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He gave her a look of complete frustration at the things she said, about the administrative level treating Cuddy like she was undeserving because she was female. That hadn't been the point House was aiming for at all. While he certainly made it clear enough times about what he thought of her doctoring skills, and while he continually undermined her position as boss, he did think she was good at her job and did respect her for that. More than that, he was grateful underneath all his sarcasm for the fact that Cuddy let him keep his job, and for helping him establish the diagnostics department. He didn't know what might've become of him after the infarction had he not had his job to keep him going, and he didn't want to know.
Well... he was looking at that now, in a way. What he was now was more or less his worst fears back home. Unemployed with nothing to keep him going except... well. He didn't really know what there was in this place to keep him going. He'd spent a good deal of his time obsessing over Vicodin and medication, and detox to really stop and think about that. He didn't want to start thinking about that, either, in case he came up without any answers.
The look of frustration on his face turned bewildered. "Not good enough for what?" he shot back. "Not good enough to have a life of things you deserve and want? That's bullshit! You only think I don't think you're good enough."
He started to turn away to reach for his cane, then changed his mind, and faced back to Cuddy. "Sure, you suck at relationships if you still being single is anything to go by," he continued in a loud, angry voice, "and you haven't practiced proper medicine in well over ten years, and you have this belief in the world being the way you want it to be -- but that doesn't mean you're not good enough. I don't for a second believe that."
House took a couple of limped steps from the bed, realising how stupid he must have looked, standing here naked while fighting with Cuddy. "And if you seriously think that's what I think of you, then all I can say is you take everything I say way too literally. You should know better than that," he finished indignantly.
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"That's not even the point," she continued. She wasn't sure any more what the point was. It had all started with a simple mention of a meeting, but then he'd started pushing her buttons. She'd be damned if she'd let anyone tell her what she could or couldn't do. Whatever his opinion was of her, however, it didn't change her determination to leave.
"I get that you don't think there's anything left for you at home, but what is there for you here?" She was genuinely confused by House's reluctance to even consider going home. She knew he wasn't happy about being stuck here, so how scared was he of returning if he didn't even want to try? And what was he frightened of? Not being able to work? Well, obviously she wouldn't be able to help with that anymore, but she believed that someone would be willing to take a chance on him. He still had his genius.
She needed to talk to him face to face, not hope that he was listening while he paced, so she tossed the sheet back and swung her legs over the side of the bed. But just as she rose from the bed she was hit with a wave of nausea. She quickly sat back down, feeling lightheaded, and took slow breaths through her mouth until the nausea subsided.
"If we get home, you won't have nothing," she said quietly. "You'll have me. And Wilson. That's not nothing."
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"I never said there was anything for me here," House argued. "But I had a taste of what going home from here is like, so did you, and do you seriously think I want that to be my life, too?"
Just as he was about to continue with his tirade, he saw Cuddy stand up and then slump back to the bed, looking suddenly pale. "What's wrong?" House asked. He watched her catching her breath, wondering why she'd suddenly look ill. Of course, he wasn't aware that she'd taken emergency contraception.
He began to head towards her, stopping short of the bed when she spoke next. Given how strained everything was between Wilson and himself, House wondered if he'd ever really have the bond he had with Wilson before entering this hotel, back again. And as for Cuddy... Yeah, he was worried he'd lose his bond with her, too, if he was to be honest with himself. Wilson and Cuddy were the people closest to him, Wilson especially.
"A lot of things can change," he replied warily. "Sex changes a lot of things."
Look how much it had changed his friendship with Wilson. Not that Cuddy knew that. But sex with Cuddy, too -- it changed a lot of things. His bizarre feelings of possessiveness had a lot to do with that, too.
He gave an impatient toss of his head, not wanting to discuss any of that -- sex, or change, or what he would or wouldn't have back home if he was to return. He moved closer to Cuddy until he was standing in front of her, and peered down at her.
"You take something?" he asked.
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It wasn't worth arguing about either. There was no patient's life hanging in the balance this time. Either she was wrong or he was, but there was no way to know unless and until they found a way home.
"Just drop it, okay? I'm sorry I brought it up." She glanced up at him and shrugged. She didn't need House's approval to do what she believed in, and he didn't need her for...pretty much anything. "We could argue about this for days...weeks...and it won't change anything."
Cuddy leaned forward, propping her elbows on her knees and resting her head in her hands. The nausea was tolerable, but it was one more reason she simply wasn't up to arguing with House any more. She'd ignored House's first question about whether she was okay, hoping he'd forget. She should've known better than to think she could hide anything from him, not for long. Hell, the only reason she'd hidden it to begin with was because she didn't want to deal with him freaking out over the possibility of pregnancy. She'd had her own quiet freak over it, she didn't need his.
"After what happened this morning, I took four times the normal dose of birth control pills, as an emergency contraceptive. And then I took another four." Her words were a little muffled since she still had her head in her hands. She didn't know how he'd react to the information, but maybe it was time she stopped trying to anticipate, let alone manage his reactions. She wasn't any good at it and he just got angrier every time she tried.
She lifted her head, waiting a second to make sure her stomach wouldn't protest the movement. "Kind of got a hormone overload going here. Makes me queasy."
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Really, he half suspected she had been lying, only because he expected the worst in everything, and the worst case scenario with them having unprotected sex was Cuddy falling pregnant. He squared his shoulders and fought down a stab of panic at Cuddy mentioning that she was taking emergency birth control. God, why didn't they use a condom? What the hell had possessed them to get so carried away?
"Shouldn't be surprised about this, really," he continued snidely, "seeing you were getting laid about as much as Mother Teresa ever likely did."
House lifted his hand to his face and gave it a fretful rub. At least she'd taken preventative measures afterwards, he tried to reason with himself. That was better than her not taking any at all. Still, the unprotected sex shouldn't have happened at all. In fact, House wasn't sure which he was more bothered by -- the fact that Cuddy ran the risk of falling pregnant and had thus taken emergency birth control, or the fact that they'd lost control with each other. Definitely the immediate, definitely the fact that he and Cuddy had lost control -- pregnancy, if it happened, at least wouldn't result in anything until nine months' time.
Still. He ran his fingers through his hair before dropping his arm to his side. Maybe now would be a good time to leave. Leave Cuddy to deal with the nausea and he can go back to his room and do... something. He felt compelled to stay, though, because he was as much a cause of Cuddy needing emergency birth control than she was, and... God damn it, this was confusing.
"Lie down," he ordered in a terse voice, after a pause of silence because of everything that was racing through his head. He pointed impatiently at the bed for her to do as he said. "You keep moving about, you'll only make the nausea worse."
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The Mother Teresa crack really annoyed her. Was she supposed to feel guilty for not sleeping around? Because whether House believed it or not, the truth was she had plenty of opportunities for sex. Normally, however, she wasn't interested in just sex. Bastard. And what the hell did that have to do with having unprotected sex? She might be out of practice at sex, but that morning...that was just an accident.
Before she could argue with him further, though, House was ordering her to lie down. She did, but she told herself it was because she wanted to lie down, not because he told her to. She curled up on her side and put her hand over her eyes. God, she hated hormones. They were not only making her nauseous, they were ramping her emotions up to about a fifteen on a one to ten scale.
"Just...go away," she said in a weary voice. She figured House was just going to start obsessing over this whole unprotected sex thing again, and she still didn't have any answers. She couldn't explain why it happened, and she couldn't give him an absolute guarantee there wouldn't be any consequences. If he wanted to argue about it, he'd simply have to wait until tomorrow when her body wasn't in such an mess. "No reason both of us have to suffer through this."
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While he'd originally come in here to try and work out what had happened this morning, the sex that had resulted was a much better distraction and he'd hoped it would stay that way -- and now, here they were, fighting again. He didn't want to go away because he still had loads of unanswered questions -- on the other hand, maybe getting some time apart would help him put more perspective on the whole thing.
He stood there, feeling useless for a moment, before he stepped closer to the bed and grabbed at the bed covers. He was feeling frustrated, and it showed in the way he roughly tugged the covers up over Cuddy's body. He then started to tuck the covers around her -- and realised what he was doing: he was being way too caring.
He quickly back off, wondering to himself why the hell he'd just done that. God, this thing with Cuddy was way too confusing. If this was just sex, it was the most confusing 'just sex' he'd ever had, bar his... thing with Wilson.
"Fine," he snapped, feeling more frustrated at himself now than at Cuddy. He opened his mouth to add to that, then changed his mind. He decided he'd get dressed and then leave, and... do something. Maybe go down to the bar and get a drink. Try and take his mind of this whole thing with Cuddy.
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She rubbed her hand fretfully over her forehead. A damn rollercoaster, that's what it was like with House. One minute having fun, having fantastic sex, the next practically screaming at each other. She didn't know how to change that, and maybe she couldn't. Maybe with House it was always all about the extremes.
"House...." She snapped her mouth shut, because she hadn't even realized she was going call to him. And for what? Ask him to stay? It was probably better if he left. Better if he had a chance to cool off and she had a chance to sleep off the effects of the drugs.
"Would you.... Turn the light off when you leave."
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He felt like slapping himself across the face, however, when she asked him to turn the light off: he felt disappointed that she wasn't asking to stay instead, and what the hell was that about? He'd just been fighting with her, and now he was hoping she'd ask him to stay? He stood up and snatched his cane up in annoyance, though he couldn't tell if he was more annoyed at himself or at Cuddy.
Probably if she had asked him to stay, he would've left anyway -- but at least would've left with the knowledge that Cuddy wanted him around. Though, if her hesitation in telling him to switch the light off when he left was anything to go by...
He began to head for the door, but before he reached it he slowed and half-turned on the spot to look at Cuddy in bed. He thought about asking her if she'd be alright, but changed his mind -- that would come across as him wanting to stay. He faced back to the door and continued towards it.
"Let me know if you need anything," he said over his shoulder, being sure to make it sound as aloof as possible, as he flipped the light switch off. He stepped out into the hall and, because he was feeling aggravated at both himself and at Cuddy, he childishly slammed the door shut behind him.
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