House Repairs (Prologue 1/?)
Thought I'd post this here to celebrate the new resurgence :D Some of the medical details may be a bit wonky, because I've been doing research but couldn't find the answers to everything... So yeah, you may have to suspend some disbelief down the road.
Title: House Repairs
Rating: PG-13 this chapter
Pairing: House/Cameron, House/Cuddy, Chase/Cameron, House/Wilson, all in some capacity
Summary: House is back from Antigua, not all of his own free will and with more than a few problems. Cameron is back, too, and she wants Chase... But when she thinks she can help House out, things may get more complicated than anyone thought.
Prologue 1: Phone Call
“Where do I even start?” Dr. Lisa Cuddy asked, staring at the huge pile of insurance forms that were spilled over the mahogany table in her sister, Julia’s, living room. “I mean, I don’t even know which of these I need to fill out first. I feel like I should know what to do with paperwork - it’s not like I don’t see enough of it, but…”
“You’re in shock,” Julia chimed in, and Cuddy felt that she sounded particularly patronizing. “You’re still trying to process what he did. It’s okay - I mean, you gave him a chance and he blew it, right?” Cuddy glared at her, sensing a slight note of what could actually be cheer in her voice.
What the hell is her problem? Cuddy thought angrily. After all, none of this would have happened if Julia hadn’t insisted upon playing matchmaker after her breakup with House. Then again, if she hadn’t decided to take that guy up on his offer… She hadn’t even liked him all that much, and that dinner certainly wasn’t worth having to move in with Julia while her house was repaired; certainly wasn’t worth all of this hassle and she didn’t even entirely know all of what had been damaged in the wreck. Not only that, but Julia had been trying to give her hotlines for battered women ever since the crash - which had been a week ago, now. Cuddy considered that lighting herself on fire would have probably been much less painful than this. Thanks a lot, House, she thought, just when I thought you couldn’t do anything more self-centered and destructive than you already had done, you pull this. Against her will, however, she felt her heart begin to soften. He told you he was hurt - you told him to show his anger. And he did.
“Just let it go, Julia,” Cuddy growled. “This isn’t about House.”
“Like hell it’s not about House!” Julia retorted. “Nobody else ran into your living room. He did. You need to stop living in denial. I know you thought there was good in him…”
“There is good in him,” Cuddy shot back, “And you’re speaking about the man I love, okay? So why don’t you back off for about five minutes if you’re not going to help me. A week of your harping has been more than enough.” She stood up and walked towards the staircase, wishing more than anything that she could be back in her home, her sanctuary, her… Goddamnit House, I hate you.
As she made her way to the top of the stairs, she caught a glimpse of Rachel in one of the three bedrooms, her wide eyes peeping out eagerly and looking for her mother.
“Hey,” Cuddy called softly, “How are you holding up?” At least Rachel had been at a sitter when the crash had happened, and she hadn’t had to observe the damage. Didn’t House ever think about anything or anyone other than himself? But she knew, this wasn’t some orchestrated manipulation. This had been rage, pure and simple. And in that aspect, she had to kind of appreciate it, if not ever justify it.
“Fine,” Rachel murmured, the brush-off phrase for teenagers already seeming somewhat fitting coming from her. She tilted her head to the side and then asked, “When can we go home?”
“Not for a little while, honey,” Cuddy replied, “We need to fix the house.”
“What happened to it?”
“It broke,” Cuddy responded, a bit more curtly than she had intended.
“But Mom,” Rachel asked, “If we’re here, how is House going to find us?” Cuddy opened her mouth, but was thankfully saved from responding by the sound of her cell phone ringing. She didn’t recognize the ring tone, and she debated picking up for a moment before deciding she needed the distraction. She fished in her pocket and pulled it out, flipping it open and pressing it to her ear.
“Hello? Dr. Cuddy here.”
“Ah, hello!” the female voice on the other end of the phone line said in a deep Caribbean accent. “I am reaching Dr. Lisa Cuddy?”
“Yes, you are,” Cuddy replied, wondering what this could be about. Maybe she had ended up on some spam phone list or there was a bill she’d forgotten to pay. Alternatively, it could just be a prank call, from… somebody?
“This is Dr. Raca Beyda from Barbuda Hospital in Antigua. I’m contacting you because you are listed… as emergency contact for a Gregory House?” the voice explained, and Cuddy swallowed hard. What was this woman going to tell her next? Was House dead? Gravely ill? How the hell had he ended up in Antigua - not that that was the most important part of things… Why was she even still listed as his emergency contact? She hadn’t even known that she was ever listed as his emergency contact?
“Yes… I know Dr. House,” Cuddy replied quietly, and she bit her lip in a silent prayer that the next news would not be that House was dead. God, anything but that. Even as furious as I am with him - not that.
“Dr. House collapsed and was taken to this hospital… He has medical needs that we believe can best be met if he were to be returned to the United States as quickly as possible,” Dr. Beyda continued, “Do you have any preference for a hospital for him to be transported to?”
Against Cuddy’s will, she heard herself saying, “Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital in Princeton, New Jersey… I’m Dean of Medicine there.” And I have a restraining order against him that will get him arrested as soon as he arrives in the airport. I better get rid of that. “And what do you mean… medical needs? You mean his leg?” She felt a rush of anger that, apparently, Antigua was not equipped to handle House’s disability, and was shipping him back all this way as if he were some sort of damaged goods to be returned.
“Oh, no, ma’am… Dr. Cuddy? You didn’t know? Dr. House has leukemia.”
Title: House Repairs
Rating: PG-13 this chapter
Pairing: House/Cameron, House/Cuddy, Chase/Cameron, House/Wilson, all in some capacity
Summary: House is back from Antigua, not all of his own free will and with more than a few problems. Cameron is back, too, and she wants Chase... But when she thinks she can help House out, things may get more complicated than anyone thought.
Prologue 1: Phone Call
“Where do I even start?” Dr. Lisa Cuddy asked, staring at the huge pile of insurance forms that were spilled over the mahogany table in her sister, Julia’s, living room. “I mean, I don’t even know which of these I need to fill out first. I feel like I should know what to do with paperwork - it’s not like I don’t see enough of it, but…”
“You’re in shock,” Julia chimed in, and Cuddy felt that she sounded particularly patronizing. “You’re still trying to process what he did. It’s okay - I mean, you gave him a chance and he blew it, right?” Cuddy glared at her, sensing a slight note of what could actually be cheer in her voice.
What the hell is her problem? Cuddy thought angrily. After all, none of this would have happened if Julia hadn’t insisted upon playing matchmaker after her breakup with House. Then again, if she hadn’t decided to take that guy up on his offer… She hadn’t even liked him all that much, and that dinner certainly wasn’t worth having to move in with Julia while her house was repaired; certainly wasn’t worth all of this hassle and she didn’t even entirely know all of what had been damaged in the wreck. Not only that, but Julia had been trying to give her hotlines for battered women ever since the crash - which had been a week ago, now. Cuddy considered that lighting herself on fire would have probably been much less painful than this. Thanks a lot, House, she thought, just when I thought you couldn’t do anything more self-centered and destructive than you already had done, you pull this. Against her will, however, she felt her heart begin to soften. He told you he was hurt - you told him to show his anger. And he did.
“Just let it go, Julia,” Cuddy growled. “This isn’t about House.”
“Like hell it’s not about House!” Julia retorted. “Nobody else ran into your living room. He did. You need to stop living in denial. I know you thought there was good in him…”
“There is good in him,” Cuddy shot back, “And you’re speaking about the man I love, okay? So why don’t you back off for about five minutes if you’re not going to help me. A week of your harping has been more than enough.” She stood up and walked towards the staircase, wishing more than anything that she could be back in her home, her sanctuary, her… Goddamnit House, I hate you.
As she made her way to the top of the stairs, she caught a glimpse of Rachel in one of the three bedrooms, her wide eyes peeping out eagerly and looking for her mother.
“Hey,” Cuddy called softly, “How are you holding up?” At least Rachel had been at a sitter when the crash had happened, and she hadn’t had to observe the damage. Didn’t House ever think about anything or anyone other than himself? But she knew, this wasn’t some orchestrated manipulation. This had been rage, pure and simple. And in that aspect, she had to kind of appreciate it, if not ever justify it.
“Fine,” Rachel murmured, the brush-off phrase for teenagers already seeming somewhat fitting coming from her. She tilted her head to the side and then asked, “When can we go home?”
“Not for a little while, honey,” Cuddy replied, “We need to fix the house.”
“What happened to it?”
“It broke,” Cuddy responded, a bit more curtly than she had intended.
“But Mom,” Rachel asked, “If we’re here, how is House going to find us?” Cuddy opened her mouth, but was thankfully saved from responding by the sound of her cell phone ringing. She didn’t recognize the ring tone, and she debated picking up for a moment before deciding she needed the distraction. She fished in her pocket and pulled it out, flipping it open and pressing it to her ear.
“Hello? Dr. Cuddy here.”
“Ah, hello!” the female voice on the other end of the phone line said in a deep Caribbean accent. “I am reaching Dr. Lisa Cuddy?”
“Yes, you are,” Cuddy replied, wondering what this could be about. Maybe she had ended up on some spam phone list or there was a bill she’d forgotten to pay. Alternatively, it could just be a prank call, from… somebody?
“This is Dr. Raca Beyda from Barbuda Hospital in Antigua. I’m contacting you because you are listed… as emergency contact for a Gregory House?” the voice explained, and Cuddy swallowed hard. What was this woman going to tell her next? Was House dead? Gravely ill? How the hell had he ended up in Antigua - not that that was the most important part of things… Why was she even still listed as his emergency contact? She hadn’t even known that she was ever listed as his emergency contact?
“Yes… I know Dr. House,” Cuddy replied quietly, and she bit her lip in a silent prayer that the next news would not be that House was dead. God, anything but that. Even as furious as I am with him - not that.
“Dr. House collapsed and was taken to this hospital… He has medical needs that we believe can best be met if he were to be returned to the United States as quickly as possible,” Dr. Beyda continued, “Do you have any preference for a hospital for him to be transported to?”
Against Cuddy’s will, she heard herself saying, “Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital in Princeton, New Jersey… I’m Dean of Medicine there.” And I have a restraining order against him that will get him arrested as soon as he arrives in the airport. I better get rid of that. “And what do you mean… medical needs? You mean his leg?” She felt a rush of anger that, apparently, Antigua was not equipped to handle House’s disability, and was shipping him back all this way as if he were some sort of damaged goods to be returned.
“Oh, no, ma’am… Dr. Cuddy? You didn’t know? Dr. House has leukemia.”