Fear of Fire Leaves You Cold, Chapter 5
Title: Fear of Fire Leaves You Cold, Chapter 5
Author: Duckie Nicks
Rating: NC-17
Characters: House, Cuddy, Rachel Cuddy, Wilson, Arlene, Julia, etc.
Author's Note: Since this piece is set post "Moving On," there are spoilers for that episode. Some chapters are split for length. These next few chapters were written for harvesttime88 for the help_lisa auction.
Warning: This fic contains sex.
Summary: After House crashes his car through Cuddy's home, both strive to rebuild their lives and deal with the consequences of their broken relationship.
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2 (Part 1), Chapter 2 (Part 2), Chapter 3, Chapter 4 (Part 1), Chapter 4 (Part 2)
Disclaimer: The show is not mine.
Cuddy headed toward the woman House had paraded around as his wife. There was no hesitation in Cuddy’s footsteps. The walk seemed to take minutes, though that wasn’t physically possible, but she didn’t consider what she was doing. The other woman’s presence would create enough gossip as it was; if there was any reluctance on Cuddy’s part, that would only increase the drama. And she had no desire to fulfill anyone’s wish to watch a soap opera at work. No matter how similar an episode might have seemed when compared to her life in its current state, she wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction of an emotional reaction.
Her employees anticipated it though. Regina blocked her from approaching Dominika, asking, “Want me to call security?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Nothing’s going to happen.” Regina looked at her doubtfully. “It’ll be fine.”
It would be. Cuddy’s initial reaction had been the same sickening feeling she’d had in her stomach when House had destroyed her home, but that was gone now. Seeing how other people were responding to Dominika, Cuddy no longer felt unhappy.
Did she want to talk to House’s green card wife? Of course not. There would never be a time when Cuddy had any sort of friendship with this woman, so much so that basic conversation was undesirable. But what could Dominika say or do to her now? Everyone around them was acting as though a fight would break out or something awful would happen. Cuddy had thought similarly at first. Yet when faced with others feeling the same way, she could see how stupid that was. House had already taken this dynamic as far as it could go; there was nothing his wife could do to make it any worse.
Having found some dregs of wherewithal, Cuddy didn’t have to fake the confident, even tone in her voice. “Can I help you?”
In contrast, Dominika looked nervous, scared even. She was wearing a light blue dress with a high neck and short chiffon sleeves that, coupled with the pony tail she had her hair in, made her seem sweet, innocent, conservative. Her make up was light, shoes heelless, and in her hands was some sort of cake or bread wrapped in cellophane. Looking at her, Cuddy could tell she had put considerable effort into her appearance; she didn’t want to be perceived as anything other than an unthreatening presence.
Cuddy wouldn’t claim she knew the kind of person Dominika was. They were strangers to one another, in each other’s life only because of him. She wouldn’t say she knew who Dominika was. But the image presented was one Cuddy fundamentally rejected. It was too obvious, and anyone trying to be that convincing would fall short on principle.
Perhaps sensing Cuddy’s ambivalence, Dominika asked nervously, “We can discuss this alone?”
“Sure.” Cuddy opened the door to her office and gestured for Dominika to step inside. “Take a seat,” she said, as she walked and sat behind her desk. Dominika hesitated but conceded, sitting across from her. “What can I do for you?”
Dominika tentatively slid the cellophane-wrapped food onto the desk. “This is yabluchnyk for you. It is….” She paused as though trying to decide how to describe the item. “Cake with apple.”
“That’s kind of you.” Cuddy couldn’t quite force herself to thank the person her ex-boyfriend had married. “But I don’t think you came here to give me a cake.”
“No, it’s not. I have not heard from House in… long time. I try calling. There’s no answer. And then today, I find box on steps for him from the hospital.” She seemed embarrassed to say the words, but she asked the question anyway. “Can you tell me what is happening?”
Cuddy took, by her own admission, sick pleasure in the turn the conversation had taken. Clearly House’s marriage hadn’t been real for either husband or wife; Cuddy had known that the second the engagement had been announced. At no point during his parade around the hospital had Cuddy even considered that he was happy with this stranger.
She hadn’t been fooled - by that anyway.
But at the same time, it was easy to think or worry that House might after a certain point enjoy his roommate’s company. He tended to get attached to people who were around and not necessarily because he liked them. And with Dominika, why wouldn’t he come to like her? Any woman who would agree to marry him was surely a prostitute, no matter what job House claimed she had. Why wouldn’t he take advantage of that, insist on it? Why wouldn’t they come to some sort of understanding and develop some sort of seedy friendship because of it?
Suddenly there was no longer any pleasure to be had in Dominika’s ignorance. Cuddy’s own just left her feeling ill. Because in thinking about that particular betrayal, she could see how… terribly expected a car in her living room really was. If he’d been willing to marry someone so soon after their break up, why wouldn’t he do other things to hurt her? When she’d refused to give him the declaration of love or open emotional reaction that he wanted, why wouldn’t he escalate the situation?
Of course, he would do that. Without firm limits, he did whatever he wanted.
“He’s in jail,” Cuddy said simply, forcing herself to focus on the conversation at hand. “Awaiting trial for several charges.”
That wasn’t the answer Dominika was expecting. Cuddy didn’t know what she thought had happened, but apparently, prison wasn’t it.
“I… oh,” Dominika uttered, eyes wide with surprise. She sat back in the chair and fell silent for at least a minute. “But he comes home soon, yes?”
Cuddy thought that if she had anything to say about it, he wouldn’t be home for a long time. What she said, however, was, “I don’t know.”
That news seemed particularly hard for Dominika to digest. Looking as though she were going to choke, she forced herself to swallow hard. “But immigration,” she said in distress. “If he is not home, what - I don’t understand what this means. How am I to become citizen?”
Instinct told Cuddy to repeat herself, to say that she had no idea what Dominika was supposed to do. But Cuddy couldn’t do it. She felt too much pity for the woman before her.
Again, she considered what it would take to marry a complete stranger - and not just a complete stranger at that but House. Prostitute or not, Dominika would have had to have had no other options. There couldn’t have been a boyfriend willing to marry her and see what would happen, a friend who would help out with this illegal union. She’d married House, and again, it was hard to believe that sex hadn’t entered the equation from the start. If he’d agreed, surely, there’d been an understanding or the implication that they would have sex at some point. Since he hadn’t gotten the reaction he’d wanted by getting married, he would need to find some enjoyment in this agreement. Cuddy didn’t think she was being too harsh in assuming that what he got was someone to cook and clean for him and satisfy him sexually. And the woman who would be okay with that? Well, she was in need of many things, but Cuddy’s derision was probably not one of them.
“I’m sorry,” Cuddy said earnestly. “I don’t know. You would have to talk to someone about that.”
“Right.” Dominika looked down, and Cuddy dreaded the possibility that she would cry. Cuddy could feel bad for her; she couldn’t comfort anyone right now. But Dominika didn’t cry. Though she seemed on the verge, she kept her composure long enough to say, “Thank you. I should go.”
Awkwardly she stood up and left, hands shaking as she pulled the door and open and shut behind her. As quickly as she’d come, she was gone. Cuddy wanted to say something to her, but she let Dominika go without a word.
There was nothing to say, not really. Cuddy had no idea how any of this would work out for the other woman, and she could not promise that everything would be all right. Possibly, she had the power to make House’s problem go away by refusing to cooperate with the police. But how could Cuddy do that? She pitied Dominika, but how could she ever forgive House for what he’d done? Whatever sympathy she had for her, it wasn’t enough to make Cuddy feel comfortable in letting House get away with his crimes. And since that was the only way she could even begin to help Dominika, Cuddy knew there was nothing she could do. They were both suffering at the hands of House, and only one of them could get what they deserved. It was awful to know that Dominika would be punished for House’s choices, but then Cuddy supposed that was the price she’d agreed to pay when she’d said, “I do.”
That thought in mind, Cuddy just sat there and watched Dominika leave.
Their meeting was not as quick to dismiss. If anything, Cuddy kept going back to it throughout the rest of the week. In theory it was easy to ignore the impact all of this would have on everyone else. Between the ramifications for herself and the way Rachel was behaving, Cuddy shouldn’t have had the capacity to worry about anyone else. But, and maybe this was a way to distract herself, she did wonder what Dominika was going through.
Cuddy wasn’t sure what the point of that was. She wasn’t going to change her mind about House. There was nothing to be done about it. And no matter how desperate Dominika might have been, in the end, she had made a choice to marry someone as screwed up as House. Whatever happened with her immigration… it was probably unavoidable anyway. How much had House really learned or cared to learn about his wife? At least being in jail would provide a reason for how little House and Dominika knew one another.
It was always at that point in the thought process that Cuddy remembered: she didn’t really care. There was nothing she could do, nothing she wanted to do, and it was best, she told herself, to forget about the matter all together. Inevitably though her mind would return to the subject. It was easier than thinking about what House had done, how Rachel had been affected, how Cuddy herself was being affected, how her sister wasn’t returning her phone calls. But then why wouldn’t it be easier? There was no emotional connection there. Everything else was harder, because Cuddy loved or had loved the people involved. And she was avoiding those problems, she realized, by thinking about House’s wife.
But of course, the issues she was avoiding were the ones that needed resolution. Julia was furious apparently, and the longer they didn’t talk, the more Cuddy understood that things would never be the same between them again. And if she wanted a relationship with her sister that was even remotely close, she would have to get a hold of her soon.
Yet Julia was of little concern when compared to Rachel. Needless to say, Rachel was getting worse - more likely to cry over tiny slights and even quicker to anger. She no longer asked for House or even said his name. Cuddy wanted to believe that was a good sign, but everything else was worse. Rachel was starting to act out around Marina, and every day when Cuddy went to leave for work, Rachel would cling to her, cry, and in one case even wet herself. Fixing that had to come first.
To say Cuddy had no idea how was… an understatement. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. There was an obvious solution to making Rachel the happy child she used to be: give her House.
Wilson had said that Rachel was only mirroring the behavior she was getting from Cuddy herself. But Cuddy didn't think that was true. Maybe it was in part, but Rachel was now no longer happy when away from her mother. Something deeper was upsetting her. Something beyond seeing her mother sad was creating this clingy, distraught child. In Cuddy's estimation, that something could have been only been House for as odd as it was that he could ever connect to a child, there seemed to be no other explanation. Simply put, Rachel had grown accustomed to the strange presence in her home. She had come to accept him as a daily part of her life. And seeing him being taken away by the police was more than she could handle. That wasn't what Cuddy wanted or what she'd expected when she'd broken up with House, but there it was. Regardless of how likelihood, Rachel and House had bonded.
For that reason, it seemed natural that the solution would be to let House out of jail, to let Rachel spend time with him. At least, that would have been the simple solution.
However, there was nothing simple about letting House back into their lives. There was nothing possible about it. Even if it was best for Rachel, Cuddy couldn't do it. Again, it seemed like the fate of a person in her hands, the power to help her entirely related to Cuddy forgiving House. But that wasn't going to happen.
That would never happen.
Because although it might make Rachel happy temporarily, at some point, she would learn of the truth. She would grow older and read a newspaper. House would mistakenly tell her, because he thought she should know. Arlene or Julia would get drunk one night and reveal that information. Some day, Rachel would know what House had done. And if Cuddy had let him continue be a part of their lives after that, what would that teach her daughter? What would that say?
No, that wasn't ever going to be an option - no matter how beneficial it might have seemed.
So that just left Cuddy with... what exactly? From where she stood, there seemed to be no easy fix to the problem if House was removed from the equation. Cuddy considered having Rachel see a therapist, but she wasn't sure that would make anything better. Rachel was so young; how could she even begin to process what would happen? She really couldn't, and therapy wouldn't necessarily help because of that. And beyond therapy, Cuddy didn't have many ideas.
She would get a new house immediately, of course. That was decided the second they'd moved into the hotel. It seemed contradictory. To put her daughter through the stress of a move when she was already going through enough seemed like a dumb idea. But Cuddy felt that it would be harder for Rachel to find some semblance of normalcy in the hotel room and then be forced to move. Better to get through the extra upheaval now, when Rachel didn't really like the hotel or want to be there, than let her get used to the place, Cuddy thought.
In the back of her mind, Cuddy understood that it might seem like she was rushing this decision, and maybe she was. Maybe she wanted the house so that she could say she had made some progress in helping her daughter. But she was willing to accept accusations of being motivated by selfishness. After all she'd been through, she didn't exactly care how it looked.
Because of that, she had no problem inviting Wilson to join her house hunting that Saturday.
Rachel, on the other hand, did.
That morning, Cuddy was busy getting ready, pretending not to be consumed with things she needed to do, problems she needed to fix. Admittedly however, she was, and lost in thought, she didn't even realize that there'd been a knock at the door until she heard Rachel yelling.
Concerned, Cuddy immediately darted out into the hallway and towards the door to the hotel room.
When she caught sight of Rachel, Rachel was trying to close the door on someone's hand, Wilson's hand. "Go 'way, Moose," Rachel said through gritted teeth, as she strained to shut Wilson out.
Wilson's response was muffled by the thick door, but Cuddy could just make out: "No, don't do that, sweetie. Your mommy asked me to -"
"Rachel!" Cuddy said sternly. Instantly her daughter let go of the door and turned, a look of innocence plastered on her face. As Wilson slipped inside, Cuddy admonished Rachel. "What have I told you about opening the door when Mommy's not around?" Rachel didn't say anything, guilt overwhelming her. "You know better than that, and you know better than to be mean to Dr. Wilson. He's my friend."
Wilson, who seemed embarrassed at having elicited the reaction he did, interjected bashfully, "It's okay. You don't need to worry about it."
Cuddy shook her head. "No, it's not. I'm sorry about that." As she went to give Wilson a kiss on the cheek to greet him, she explained, "Please don't take it personally. She's been... a handful recently."
"It's... fine." Wilson awkwardly accepted the warm the greeting. Cuddy wasn't surprised by that. Things had been a little uncomfortable since their kiss. She wasn't sure if he was ashamed to have crossed that line or to have done so without any real attraction to her. She didn't ask him and pretended she didn't notice his discomfort.
When she turned around though, she understood that Wilson's problem had nothing to do with the kiss and everything to do with the little girl glaring at him.
"Stop that," Cuddy told her. "Be nice."
It didn't work, which led to Wilson asking, "I take it she's staying with a babysitter?" It was hardly subtle, but she didn’t take offense.
“No, she’s coming with us. Ever since you know, she’s been wanting to stick close to Mommy. Isn’t that right?” she asked Rachel as she scooped her up into her arms. Rachel just sucked her thumb, big blue eyes staring at Wilson in a way that made him shift on his feet. “Just let me get my purse and we can go.”
Cuddy carried Rachel with her to the living room, as she didn’t trust her to behave alone with Wilson. Validating that concern, Rachel said as soon as they were out of earshot, “I don’t like him.”
“You don’t have to like him,” Cuddy said as she scoured the room for where she’d left her purse. “But he is my friend, so you have to be nice to him.”
“No.”
Spotting her purse stuffed behind a sofa cushion, Cuddy reached down with Rachel in her arms to grab it. “It’s not optional, Rachel. Be nice to him.”
Thumb still jammed into her mouth, Rachel whined around it, “I want House.”
It hurt, but the confession didn’t surprise Cuddy in the least. Her daughter missed House. Even if she didn’t say it all the time, she did. And without any understanding of what constituted a romantic relationship, she looked at Wilson’s presence as…. an attempt to replace House.
Cuddy sighed. “I know you do. I really do. But House can’t come over right now. Okay?” She kissed Rachel’s forehead. “Wilson’s not replacing him. He’s just helping Mommy today, all right?” Rachel didn’t say anything, a sure sign that she wasn’t convinced. Cuddy could only assume then that there would be no getting through to her, and so she took advantage of Rachel’s silence and kissed her again. “Come on. Let’s go pick out our new home.”
When they were in front of Wilson once more, he offered, “I can leave if -”
“Don’t be ridiculous. She’ll calm down, and I’d like your input.”
“Well, if you’re sure….”
“I am.” As they left the hotel room, she added, “Besides, I’d like you to meet my realtor. You want to press the button?” Cuddy asked Rachel when they’d reached the elevator. She shook her head, so Cuddy did it.
Wilson stood next to her, confused. “I like my apartment though, so -”
“That’s not why you should meet her,” she said with a smile.
His fingers uneasily picked at the cast on his other arm. “You’re setting me up?” He visibly didn’t like the idea. “I don’t think I should try to date anyone right now. And I don’t know why you’d even want to -”
“You know why.”
She didn’t go into detail, the implication obvious. After Rachel’s behavior, Cuddy wasn’t going to explicitly state that she had kissed Wilson. But between the two of them, the reason was obvious.
It was one that made Wilson blush. “That was a mistake - a horrible mistake. Do we really need to discuss this? I thought we were okay.”
“I’m not angry,” Cuddy reassured as they stepped onto the elevator. “We’re both… trying to adjust. I want sympathy. You want someone to funnel all your concern into.”
Wilson looked as though he regretted being trapped in the elevator with her. “Please don’t tell me you buy into this idea that I like needy -”
“I don’t know what I believe anymore, Wilson,” she said casually. “But she’s in her thirties, pretty, and widowed three years ago. If you like her, take advantage of that. If you don’t, please pretend you do so I can look at these homes without her constant input.”
He wagged a finger at her. “And there it is: the true reason for your attempts at matchmaking,” he said in a purposely overdramatic manner.
She smiled. “That might be the main reason, I admit. But the other things I said are -”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” he said seriously. “It was a mistake, and I shouldn’t have ever tried to….” His gaze shifting to Rachel who was still giving him a disgusted look, he stopped himself from saying he’d kissed her mother. “Do that.”
“Good. Because I don’t want to poison our friendship with your libido.”
He held his hands up in capitulation. “Believe me. I’m hands off. And if I ever thought about reconsidering, you’ve got your little thug to keep you safe.”
Cuddy groaned though her heart wasn’t into it. “Oh, Rachel.” Squeezing her daughter close, she encouraged, “How about you smile?”
“No!”
“Think of it this way,” she said to Wilson. “You’ve finally met a girl you can’t charm.”
As the elevator door opened, he joked, “Is that supposed to refer to you or to her?”
She didn’t answer. She just said, “I’ll drive.” Thankfully he didn’t push the matter.
Then again, she hadn’t expected him to. He didn’t want to relive their kiss any more than she did. It had been a mistake, which should have made repetition completely avoidable. Cuddy just wanted to make sure that it definitely would be. Again, that should have been a given. They needed each other's friendship, not their affection. But as the last week had demonstrated, what Cuddy needed wasn't to be given automatically.
She needed a daughter who was unaffected. She didn't get that. She needed a sister who called her and asked how she was doing, having just nearly been killed by her ex-boyfriend. That didn't happen. She needed the woman her ex had married to not exist. Clearly, that wasn't possible. And now Cuddy needed a new home that met the most minimal of criteria, and that too seemed difficult.
As she distastefully surveyed the first property, Cuddy told herself that she had made the right choice setting limits with Wilson. She didn't need ambivalence right now.
The second and third homes were equally unsatisfactory, too many repairs needed in the case of the former, a pool Cuddy had no interest in maintaining in the latter. Wilson did his best to keep Dana, the realtor, out of the way, but Cuddy could tell he didn't want to date this woman. He flirted, but it lacked the charm he was capable of. Maybe he still had feelings for Sam; Cuddy didn't know, but regardless, his heart wasn't into it.
"I think you should get the next one," Wilson said in the car before they'd even seen the house, before they were even on the same street as the property.
Cuddy looked in her rear view as she changed lanes. "You don't like her."
"She's fine," he lied. "But from what she told me, the hou -" He abruptly cut himself off before he could say the word, house. She hadn't had to expressly forbid using House's name, but Wilson had obviously known that saying that word in front of Rachel would be... troublesome. "I mean the property sounds like something you'll enjoy."
Cuddy let the near slip slide. "I don't know. I get the feeling she senses my desperation and -”
“And you thought I wanted to date someone like that.”
“Not necessarily date. But -”
“I wanna go home,” Rachel whined loudly from the back seat, her feet kicking into the air in frustration.
“I know, honey. We’re just gonna look at one more home,” Cuddy told her encouragingly as she pulled into the driveway of the next house.
Wilson uttered under his breath, “God, I hope so.”
“Not you too,” she said with a smile.
She expected him to say something, but he didn’t. She guessed that was the reaction she should have anticipated. Wilson was nice; he was a good man. If there were any hint of irritation or frustration in her, he would do his best to ameliorate the situation. Given what she’d been through, of course, he would stop. He wouldn’t continue with the joke, needle her until she couldn’t stand it anymore. He wasn’t House.
And that was why she would never be attracted to Wilson, she thought in that moment. He would be good for her, stable, but he would never make her… insatiable, caught somewhere between wanting to kill him and wanting to make love to him.
That shouldn’t have been a bad thing. She should have wanted someone who wouldn’t drive his car through her home. As House had proven, there were far worse things than a man who was kind and safe. Somehow though… she knew she would never want what a man like Wilson could offer. She would always feel as though she were settling.
Unless she made the same mistake twice, she would always be alone.
“Cuddy?” Wilson asked out of concern, forcing her back to reality. She turned to look at him. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
It was hardly believable, but in front of Rachel, he wouldn’t push the matter beyond asking, “Are you going to get out of the car?”
Cuddy realized he was right; she hadn’t moved. “Yeah,” she said shaking her head as though to clear her thoughts. “Yes, of course.”
Dutifully she pulled the keys out of the ignition and grabbed her purse. Wilson’s eyes were set on her. Though he attempted to stifle the worry in the look, he wasn’t successful. She could tell that he expected her to confess what was wrong - or, because he knew the answer to that question, to turn to him then for comfort. The weight of that was heavy, made her skin blush angrily with embarrassment. She didn’t like needing him, didn’t like needing reassurance from someone who actually got off on helping women in her position. So she forced herself to ignore him and get out of the car.
Without glancing back at him, she went straight to Rachel and began to unbuckle her from her car seat. Immediately Rachel motioned to be picked up.
Cuddy, however, had carried her around for the tour of the first three houses. Her arms were beginning to ache, and she wanted Rachel to expend enough energy that she would go down for her afternoon nap easily. “No, I think it’s time for you to walk a little bit.”
She set Rachel on the ground, eliciting a loud “No.”
“Yes, you’ll be fine.” Rachel didn’t budge, forcing Cuddy to gently scoot her away from the car so she could close the door.
“Up,” Rachel demanded, this time more firmly. When Cuddy began to walk past her, Rachel started to cry. There were no tears in the noisy sobs; she was doing it to get her way, which ensured she wouldn’t.
“Come on, Rachel,” she said casually, as Wilson started walking up the driveway. “You don’t want to be left behind.” Cuddy didn’t look back as she went ahead with Wilson. “She’ll come,” she explained to Wilson quietly.
Predictably enough Rachel stopped crying the second she realized her ploy for attention wasn’t going to work. Running as quickly as she could, she followed after Cuddy. With that tiny issue easily resolved, Cuddy finally got a look at the house.
Based on the first few picks, she wasn’t expecting to like Dana’s current choice at all, and truthfully she wasn’t sure she did. A gray cedar roof made the house look old, like something out of the English countryside despite being set on Carnegie Lake. The siding was white, which surely meant that every time a bug killed itself on her house or a stray cat marked its territory, she would know it had happened. And that wasn’t even beginning to consider how much she’d have to pay someone to rake up the leaves of the many adult-sized trees that seemed to line the property.
“Let her at least show you inside this one before you reject it,” Wilson told her. “Don’t talk yourself into not liking it.”
She wanted to roll her eyes at the advice but didn’t. He was doing her a favor after all, and given that they’d driven together, he was now trapped with her until she found a house or gave up. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Her words were more than just diplomacy. She guessed he was right. The house was close to the hospital, more so than her last place had been. It would have been foolish to immediately relinquish the potential convenience because of the house’s color.
“I admit,” Dana said excitedly as they met her at the front door. “When you sent me your criteria, this didn’t exactly fit but -”
“What does that mean - doesn’t exactly fit?” Cuddy asked pointedly, Rachel burying her face in the back of her mother’s legs. Instinctively, in spite of what she’d said in front of the car, Cuddy reached down and picked her up.
Dana unlocked the door. “It’s one story, like you wanted. No pool, although it does back up against the lake - the views are fantastic; you’ll love it. Original owners have a sick kid or nephew or mother or something - maybe it’s their dog - I don’t know. Anyway, they’re selling it relatively cheap for the capital, so it’s near your price range despite its -”
“Near,” Cuddy pointed out. “How -”
“Doesn’t matter what they’re asking. It’s whether we can convince them to take less than what they want. In this case, I’m sure we can come to an agreement that’s within the upper range of your -”
“Then why did you hesitate to show me it?” Cuddy could only take that to mean that the price was significantly more than she wanted to pay. And just looking at the house from the outside, she could tell that that must have been the case. A long driveway to reach a home set far back from the sidewalk, huge trees and a well-kempt flowerbed, and decorative dormers along the house - there was something obviously moneyed about the property.
“It’s five bedrooms, more than you wanted.”
Cuddy shook her head. “I don’t need that many -”
“Let me show you what it looks like inside,” Dana said, opening the door and gesturing for them to step inside.
“I think you should give it a chance,” Wilson agreed. “Besides, you could use an extra room for a study or -”
“If you ever have another baby, there’ll be plenty of room. Just take a look. I’ll think you’ll really like it.”
Cuddy nodded her head in acquiescence. She hadn’t been convinced; she just wanted the conversation to stop. From her perspective, finding a place to live under these circumstances was difficult enough. She didn’t need to listen to them convince her that this was the right home, not when they were just desperate for her to purchase something. And she really didn’t need to hear about babies or other ways she could adjust to fill the house. Her life was complicated enough without thinking about what else she might like to change.
Ignoring them, she carried Rachel into the house and began looking around. Honestly it was hard to find anything she liked. Oh, the family room and master bedroom had beautiful fireplaces she could make use of in the winter. The kitchen had a large window behind the sink that would make doing dishes less irritating - especially in the summer when the sun would set late and she'd be able to look out and see pink sky over the green trees and blue lake. The yard was large; the entire property a little over two acres in size, and Rachel would surely love running around and playing, learning to climb the trees and catch butterflies and feed squirrels. The extra space could easily be used to potentially house her mother when Arlene was no longer capable of living alone or could be turned into a playroom for Rachel. No, it wasn't that the house had nothing to offer, that it was in disrepair or horribly suited to her taste. For although it was bigger than she wanted, Cuddy actually did recognize that the place seemed nice enough. But...
Part of her hated it.
She didn't want to move, didn't want to envision herself in another home after all the years she'd spend in her last house. She didn't like that this was being forced on her and liked even less the fact that, if she had been told a year ago she would be moving, she would have assumed it would be to move in with him. She could have never imagined that this would be happening because of him, because of what he’d done.
It was hard to enjoy the process with her knowing that she was doing it because he had forced this upon her. She could afford it, sure. Financially she had made wise investments over the years, and the dual nature of her job allowed for a larger paycheck than someone who only performed administrative or scholarly duties would receive. House hadn’t left her destitute, wouldn’t. The problem was not a monetary one. That didn’t make it any better for her.
All she could see in the paint, in the strategically staged furniture was her own loneliness. She could buy this place, and she would like it well enough. But she would always see in it the circumstances under which she had purchased the home. She would always remember what he had done. Maybe that would get easier with time, but she doubted it. As new as their break up still was, she tended to believe he would be her last boyfriend for… too long of a time.
Who would want to date the woman with the crazy ex? Who would she trust enough to welcome into her life?
As Cuddy toured the porch off the family room, she suddenly had enough. The house was fine, but she couldn’t stand feeling like House was behind her pushing her into this. She didn’t like knowing that, even in jail, he was dictating what she did.
“You know what, Dana?” she suddenly said, holding Rachel close. “I think I need some more time to think about this. I’ll get back to you by Monday with my decision, if that’s okay.”
Both Wilson and Dana looked at her like they were missing something. But only Dana started to ask, “Are you sure? Because -”
“Yes. I am. We should leave,” Cuddy said to Wilson. “But I’ll let you know if I want to put an offer down or look at something else.”
Awkward goodbyes followed, Wilson dutifully falling in line. Only when they were in the car did he let any of his concern show through. “Are you okay?”
Cuddy didn’t answer. All she said was, “I’m hungry. Let’s get lunch.”
“Okay. Where -”
“There’s a McDonalds just down the street. We passed it on the way over.” Wilson was understandably surprised by the choice. When they had lunch together at the hospital, she tended to stick to fare that required little cooking: salads, yogurt with granola. Nutrition aside, those foods allowed her to eat almost immediately - which she wanted when there was always a chance that work would call her away.
Today she only had one practical concern on her mind at the moment: distracting Rachel. Cuddy wanted to answer Wilson’s question, but she couldn’t truthfully with her daughter present.
“Rachel can play on the jungle gym while we talk.”
“You sure about that?” he asked doubtfully. “She’s been sticking kind of close to you.”
“Once she eats a little and sees the other kids playing, she’ll want to join them.”
Rachel didn’t disappoint. She ate her apple slices and one chicken nugget before being whisked away by the sight of happy children playing in the pit of brightly colored balls. Part of her hesitated to leave, but Cuddy told her, “Go play. Mommy will be right here if you need something, all right?”
Rachel gave her a hug and then toddled off to climb into the jungle gym.
When she’d gotten far enough away that she couldn’t possibly hear what they were saying, Wilson initiated the conversation. “I’ve never seen someone eat a strawberry sundae from here.”
“They’re good,” Cuddy insisted. But she hadn’t eaten much of it, instead using her spoon to stir the syrup and ice cream into an unappetizing pink mixture.
“What happened?” Wilson asked.
She pushed Rachel’s food away from the edge of the table. “It was a nice house.”
“That it was.”
“I guess I like it.”
“Then what happened? Why not put a bid on it?”
“I think I will. I don’t know. I just kept thinking that I’m looking for a house because of what he did.”
Wilson didn’t look surprised. He simply nodded his head as though he understood. “And then you started thinking about him running his car through your home.”
“A little bit. Mostly, I was wishing that my choices didn’t feel like a direct response to his behavior.”
There was silence between them as he contemplated what she was saying. When he finally spoke, he was angry. “He should be here to see this,” he declared.
Cuddy didn’t understand, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to. “Why would you want House to be -”
“He gets to go to jail. He doesn’t have to see any of this,” Wilson explained. “He should know what he’s done.”
“No,” she said with an emphatic shake of the head. “He deserves to be -”
“Of course he does. I’m not - Cuddy, I’m not saying he shouldn’t be charged or punished for what he’s done.”
Cuddy understood then what it was Wilson was saying, what he meant. Being with her was harder than he envisioned prison being for House. Seeing all he had today, from Rachel’s behavior to Cuddy’s own, had made Wilson unhappier. It had probably made him wish that he’d known what House was going to do. Cuddy had already told Wilson that it wasn’t his fault, but surely he felt guilty about being the one to ride over with House, to see him right before the crash and do seemingly nothing to stop it. This would only make the feeling worse.
“It’s hard for you to witness, because you care. You have a conscience. If he were here, he wouldn’t care that Rachel cries all the time or that she’s become extremely attached to me. He wouldn’t pay attention to any of that, and if he did, it would only be because it irritated him.”
Wilson couldn’t argue with that. “I guess,” he said sheepishly. “I don’t know. Somehow when I think of all we’ve been through, jail doesn’t seem like enough.”
On that they agreed. There really didn’t seem to be any punishment in the world suitable for the man who had hurt her - them - so much.
*****************************
Monday morning, Cuddy placed the call to Dana and confirmed that she wanted to make an offer on the house. As reluctant as Cuddy had been to make choices because of House, she despised the idea of refraining from decisions because of him just as much. And in the end, she needed a place to live. She needed to give Rachel stability. However it made Cuddy feel, she had to put that aside and make the right choices for her daughter.
The conversation itself went as planned. Dana was relieved to have hooked a potential buyer. They debated offers and chose a number ten minutes after Cuddy had placed the call. Everything was going as she’d intended.
Then Sanford Wells knocked on her office door.
Cuddy wasn’t expecting him. There had been no scheduled meeting, and he tended to be polite enough to call ahead before barging in on her. He liked to run the hospital with a veneer of casualness, but he wouldn’t have been so rude as to show up unannounced unless it was important.
“Dana, I’m going to have to call you back,” Cuddy said as she waved him into her office. Quickly hanging up the phone, she gestured for the chairman of the hospital board to sit. “Please take a seat. What can I do for you?”
“Thank you,” he said curtly before sitting down in the chair across from her desk.
“Did we have a meeting or -”
“I wanted to let you know that I cancelled the meeting you were supposed to have with the board this week.”
She looked at him carefully as though the explanation would be written on his face. When it wasn’t, she asked, “Any particular reason why? Or why you felt the need to tell me in person?”
He clasped his hands together calmly. “Before we convene the rest of the board, you should be prepared for the meeting.”
“And you don’t think I am,” she deduced, surprised by his conclusion.
“Let’s make no mistake: I trust you to run this hospital. I backed you with Atlantic Net. Not many people would have done that.” It was a point ill made. He had allowed her to proceed in that matter the way she wanted - all the while threatening to fire her if she didn’t deliver. “If you choose to ask the board to revoke House’s tenure and fire him, I will, again, support you with that decision.”
“Then why cancel the meeting?”
Sanford exhaled roughly. “A few reasons. They amount to: you don’t have the votes, and you don’t want the attention.”
“That’s news to me,” she said honestly. Fighting the urge to fiddle with her necklace, Cuddy asked, “Whose support wouldn’t I have?”
“Ron, for starters.”
“I guess that’s not surprising. He’s always respected what -”
“You need unanimous approval.”
She nodded her head. “I realize that. I can get it. Ron owes -”
“He doesn’t seem to be under that impression. He’s trying to convince some of the others that House’s behavior is a private matter and not subject to the board’s -”
“He drove his car through my home,” she said, trying to sound as calm as she could. “It may have been for personal reasons, but House is a danger to others.”
“I don’t disagree. But you don’t have the votes right now.”
She shrugged. “Then you can wait for a conviction, and when a reporter calls and asks why you waited to fire -”
“I don’t want a conviction,” Sanford said in a firm voice that displayed just how convinced he was that this was the right thing to do.
The statement and the honesty behind it shocked Cuddy, but she realized almost immediately that she shouldn’t have been. Sanford only knew what Ron’s plans were, because the two had talked, apparently, and Ron had been successful. Her tone equally stern, she said, “I don’t know what Ron said to you, but I can assure you that it will take far more than ‘It was personal’ to convince me.”
“Understandable,” he said with a gentle bob of the head. “You know more than anyone else what House’s value at the hospital is.”
“I do. For that very reason, it should be apparent to you how gravely I take his actions in this matter,” she said, folding her arms across her chest.
“Nevertheless he has great success rates, and more importantly, he brings us a clientele who attract attention. I don’t see other doctors treating leaders of other countries -”
“You do realize Mr. Dibala died in House’s care.”
Sanford smiled and waved off that point. “Doesn’t matter. Potential patients look at that and think twice about choosing other hospitals.”
Cuddy felt like laughing but didn’t. “Patients care about cost and distance, the latter something we have no control over and the former I’ve worked hard to make less of a barrier.”
“For the most part, yes. There are those, however, with a certain amount of income that give them the freedom to choose where they go and most importantly who they donate their money to.”
“They’re not going to donate to someone who -”
“If he’s convicted, that’s true. If this goes any further than it has, you would be right. Like I said, I trust you to run this hospital. Whatever you choose, I will do my best to support you.” The sentiment was anemic at best, making it obvious that he didn’t really feel that way. “All I’m asking is that before you finalize your decision, you consider the ramifications. And the alternatives.”
She stayed quiet for a moment - not to do what he suggested, because she had already decided the second House hade made his choice how she wanted to respond. But she was afraid that if she revealed to Sanford how she felt, she would not do it tactfully.
When she thought she could talk without yelling, she went for the more direct route, “What exactly would you like me to do?” He opened his mouth, no doubt to repeat the same line about backing her choice up, but she stopped him. “Clearly you have a preference as to how I should proceed. I’d like to know what your plan is.”
“Don’t put him in prison. With his mouth, he’ll be dead in a month.” He was joking, but she almost wished he wasn’t. “Right now, there isn’t much press, but if goes to jail, that changes. Suddenly, there’s a spotlight on the hospital - and you. We’ll lose donors, and as you know, when we lack funds, what goes first is care for the poor and uninsured. And they will be the ones who lose the most in this.”
She tucked the thought away for later but didn’t take the time to pick apart the logic for the moment. As tempting as it was, it would only make her look eager to disregard all input from her employer. Granted she was, but she needed to seem above that kind of vengeful behavior; she needed to seem impartial. And the fact was if this were anyone else, she would take the time to consider what she was being told. She would look at it from all angles before making a choice. The same had to at least appear to be true with this.
“Let’s assume I agree with you there,” she said carefully. “It’ll be bad for business. What would you have me do with him?”
Sanford grinned. “If you were to drop the case, you could easily put him on leave and, when everyone has forgotten what he did or stopped caring, fire him then. We won’t lose the confidence of our purse strings by and large, and his personality will guarantee that no one ever hires him again. Your hands are clean, but you benefit.”
It was too neatly presented for Cuddy to accept openly. With a sigh, she simply offered, “I’ll think about it.” Then she realized the problem with his solution. “But even if I wanted to have the charges dropped, I’m not sure I can make that happen.”
“Of course you can.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of cough drops. Unraveling the paper to get to another lozenge, he said suddenly, “My wife is obsessed with the Titanic - the actual ship, not the movie. Watches documentaries about it all the time. You know how the Titanic sunk?”
She wasn’t sure how to respond or what the point of the conversation was. “An iceberg,” she said cautiously, confusion making her voice quaver. “Who doesn’t know that?”
“The ship had sixteen compartments built into it. They were said to be watertight, but of course they weren’t. They didn’t want passengers to have to walk up steps to get around the compartments, so they put doors in the damn thing. Actual doors,” he said, popping a cough drop in his mouth. “How dumb is that? Anyway, these compartments were supposed to be able to take on water and keep the ship afloat. You could flood any two, in some scenarios three, and it would be all right. Or you could flood the first four, and the ship would be okay. Know what happened? Five compartments flooded in the first hour.”
“That’s a wonderful history lesson,” she said dryly.
“If you’re willing to drop the charges, everything else will fall in line. It only takes one, and then the rest buckle under the weight. Wilson’s probably looking for a reason to forgive House anyway,” he said in a way that made Cuddy’s stomach clench painfully.
Wilson hadn’t said anything like that - yet. But Cuddy realized that she feared now that he would. He always forgave House. Always. He was angry now, but there was no guarantee that he would stay that way. And Sanford was right; if Cuddy wanted to let House go, Wilson wouldn’t fight her on it. He would be supportive.
“You know everyone involved,” Sanford explained. “And from what I’ve seen,” he said, standing up. “You can be extremely persuasive when you choose to be.”
“How long do I have to think about it?”
He shrugged. “The sooner you make your choice, the better. There is a time factor involved whether you decide to prosecute or not. But if you could let me know what you decide by the beginning of next month, that would be ideal.”
“All right.”
“Then I’ll let you get back to work.”
She should have said something to ease his exit, so that it didn’t seem as abrupt as it was. But she was too busy thinking about his solution to care about anything else.
Hours later she still hadn’t wrapped her mind around this turn of events. Before, no one in her life would profess to be a fan of House’s. People had begged her to fire him, demanded it hotly after he’d done something unprofessional. Aside from Wilson, no one had liked him. And now, she was surrounded by people imploring her to think the best of the man who had tried to kill her.
Somehow, when she wasn’t looking, the earth had shifted on its axis, and she was now in a universe that wanted him regardless of what he had done. Sanford had repeated how he would do what she wanted, but that was just talk. In truth he didn’t care about her at all, what she wanted; he cared about getting his way, and what he wanted was to implement a solution that completely ignored what she’d been through, what she was going through.
He wasn’t the only one, of course. Dominika wanted her anchor to the country back. Rachel, not knowing the circumstances, wanted her friend. The only person who seemed to care at all was Wilson, but even he had made a comment about the ineffectiveness of jail.
He didn’t think prison was enough for House - a sentiment Sanford Wells had echoed.
Cuddy understood what they were both getting at now. It hadn’t been about how miserable she’d made Wilson. His comment had been kinder than that.
He’d been saying that jail wouldn’t be easy for House. He was probably being treated poorly or had been or would be isolated from the other prisoners because of his inability to play nice. Naturally he would hate all of it: being forced to hold his tongue, being forced to listen to others’ commands. In simple terms, it would be Hell for him, which was the least he deserved.
But she was beginning to see that maybe Wilson and Sanford were right. In that environment, House would have plenty of opportunities to suffer. He wouldn’t have any chance to see how he had made her suffer (or Rachel or Wilson or her sister or anyone else). He would envision in a moment of bitterness that she was happy, screwing every man in sight, having celebrations at the hospital. She’d gotten rid of the biggest pain in her ass, and he would assume that that meant she was happy. And in his head, he would become the victim.
He would be the man ruined. That this was all by his own design would eventually be ignored. She would become the cold-hearted woman who had used him and dumped him when it was convenient. If he thought of her fondly, he would remind himself quickly of how happy she was to be without him, and he would return to his one-dimensional version of her. Controlled, surrounded by the threat of violence and punishment, he would see himself as the one who had suffered the most, the only one who was currently suffering. Part of her wanted to believe that he would take responsibility for his state and accept the blame.
But why would he?
Instead of reflecting upon his own behavior when they’d broken up, he had slept with every prostitute he could find. He had gotten married to hurt her. He had taken advantage of his proclivity for self-destruction and used it as a weapon to make her feel bad. And when she had felt bad, when she’d tried to reach out to him, he had responded with violence, because she had dared to be kind while flirting with other men.
He wouldn’t change now. He didn’t believe people could change. His part in all of this would fade away from his own memory, and he would see himself as the innocent party. She knew it.
But what was the alternative? Letting him go free?
No, that wouldn’t work. How could she ever feel safe with him loose on the streets? If she couldn’t make him take responsibility, she thought she should at least do whatever it was that would make her happy.
Then she remembered that, because of House, she wasn’t sure she would ever be happy again.
The choice suddenly seemed difficult to make. Sighing she thought she just had no idea what to do.
Go on to the next chapter
Author: Duckie Nicks
Rating: NC-17
Characters: House, Cuddy, Rachel Cuddy, Wilson, Arlene, Julia, etc.
Author's Note: Since this piece is set post "Moving On," there are spoilers for that episode. Some chapters are split for length. These next few chapters were written for harvesttime88 for the help_lisa auction.
Warning: This fic contains sex.
Summary: After House crashes his car through Cuddy's home, both strive to rebuild their lives and deal with the consequences of their broken relationship.
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2 (Part 1), Chapter 2 (Part 2), Chapter 3, Chapter 4 (Part 1), Chapter 4 (Part 2)
Disclaimer: The show is not mine.
Cuddy headed toward the woman House had paraded around as his wife. There was no hesitation in Cuddy’s footsteps. The walk seemed to take minutes, though that wasn’t physically possible, but she didn’t consider what she was doing. The other woman’s presence would create enough gossip as it was; if there was any reluctance on Cuddy’s part, that would only increase the drama. And she had no desire to fulfill anyone’s wish to watch a soap opera at work. No matter how similar an episode might have seemed when compared to her life in its current state, she wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction of an emotional reaction.
Her employees anticipated it though. Regina blocked her from approaching Dominika, asking, “Want me to call security?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Nothing’s going to happen.” Regina looked at her doubtfully. “It’ll be fine.”
It would be. Cuddy’s initial reaction had been the same sickening feeling she’d had in her stomach when House had destroyed her home, but that was gone now. Seeing how other people were responding to Dominika, Cuddy no longer felt unhappy.
Did she want to talk to House’s green card wife? Of course not. There would never be a time when Cuddy had any sort of friendship with this woman, so much so that basic conversation was undesirable. But what could Dominika say or do to her now? Everyone around them was acting as though a fight would break out or something awful would happen. Cuddy had thought similarly at first. Yet when faced with others feeling the same way, she could see how stupid that was. House had already taken this dynamic as far as it could go; there was nothing his wife could do to make it any worse.
Having found some dregs of wherewithal, Cuddy didn’t have to fake the confident, even tone in her voice. “Can I help you?”
In contrast, Dominika looked nervous, scared even. She was wearing a light blue dress with a high neck and short chiffon sleeves that, coupled with the pony tail she had her hair in, made her seem sweet, innocent, conservative. Her make up was light, shoes heelless, and in her hands was some sort of cake or bread wrapped in cellophane. Looking at her, Cuddy could tell she had put considerable effort into her appearance; she didn’t want to be perceived as anything other than an unthreatening presence.
Cuddy wouldn’t claim she knew the kind of person Dominika was. They were strangers to one another, in each other’s life only because of him. She wouldn’t say she knew who Dominika was. But the image presented was one Cuddy fundamentally rejected. It was too obvious, and anyone trying to be that convincing would fall short on principle.
Perhaps sensing Cuddy’s ambivalence, Dominika asked nervously, “We can discuss this alone?”
“Sure.” Cuddy opened the door to her office and gestured for Dominika to step inside. “Take a seat,” she said, as she walked and sat behind her desk. Dominika hesitated but conceded, sitting across from her. “What can I do for you?”
Dominika tentatively slid the cellophane-wrapped food onto the desk. “This is yabluchnyk for you. It is….” She paused as though trying to decide how to describe the item. “Cake with apple.”
“That’s kind of you.” Cuddy couldn’t quite force herself to thank the person her ex-boyfriend had married. “But I don’t think you came here to give me a cake.”
“No, it’s not. I have not heard from House in… long time. I try calling. There’s no answer. And then today, I find box on steps for him from the hospital.” She seemed embarrassed to say the words, but she asked the question anyway. “Can you tell me what is happening?”
Cuddy took, by her own admission, sick pleasure in the turn the conversation had taken. Clearly House’s marriage hadn’t been real for either husband or wife; Cuddy had known that the second the engagement had been announced. At no point during his parade around the hospital had Cuddy even considered that he was happy with this stranger.
She hadn’t been fooled - by that anyway.
But at the same time, it was easy to think or worry that House might after a certain point enjoy his roommate’s company. He tended to get attached to people who were around and not necessarily because he liked them. And with Dominika, why wouldn’t he come to like her? Any woman who would agree to marry him was surely a prostitute, no matter what job House claimed she had. Why wouldn’t he take advantage of that, insist on it? Why wouldn’t they come to some sort of understanding and develop some sort of seedy friendship because of it?
Suddenly there was no longer any pleasure to be had in Dominika’s ignorance. Cuddy’s own just left her feeling ill. Because in thinking about that particular betrayal, she could see how… terribly expected a car in her living room really was. If he’d been willing to marry someone so soon after their break up, why wouldn’t he do other things to hurt her? When she’d refused to give him the declaration of love or open emotional reaction that he wanted, why wouldn’t he escalate the situation?
Of course, he would do that. Without firm limits, he did whatever he wanted.
“He’s in jail,” Cuddy said simply, forcing herself to focus on the conversation at hand. “Awaiting trial for several charges.”
That wasn’t the answer Dominika was expecting. Cuddy didn’t know what she thought had happened, but apparently, prison wasn’t it.
“I… oh,” Dominika uttered, eyes wide with surprise. She sat back in the chair and fell silent for at least a minute. “But he comes home soon, yes?”
Cuddy thought that if she had anything to say about it, he wouldn’t be home for a long time. What she said, however, was, “I don’t know.”
That news seemed particularly hard for Dominika to digest. Looking as though she were going to choke, she forced herself to swallow hard. “But immigration,” she said in distress. “If he is not home, what - I don’t understand what this means. How am I to become citizen?”
Instinct told Cuddy to repeat herself, to say that she had no idea what Dominika was supposed to do. But Cuddy couldn’t do it. She felt too much pity for the woman before her.
Again, she considered what it would take to marry a complete stranger - and not just a complete stranger at that but House. Prostitute or not, Dominika would have had to have had no other options. There couldn’t have been a boyfriend willing to marry her and see what would happen, a friend who would help out with this illegal union. She’d married House, and again, it was hard to believe that sex hadn’t entered the equation from the start. If he’d agreed, surely, there’d been an understanding or the implication that they would have sex at some point. Since he hadn’t gotten the reaction he’d wanted by getting married, he would need to find some enjoyment in this agreement. Cuddy didn’t think she was being too harsh in assuming that what he got was someone to cook and clean for him and satisfy him sexually. And the woman who would be okay with that? Well, she was in need of many things, but Cuddy’s derision was probably not one of them.
“I’m sorry,” Cuddy said earnestly. “I don’t know. You would have to talk to someone about that.”
“Right.” Dominika looked down, and Cuddy dreaded the possibility that she would cry. Cuddy could feel bad for her; she couldn’t comfort anyone right now. But Dominika didn’t cry. Though she seemed on the verge, she kept her composure long enough to say, “Thank you. I should go.”
Awkwardly she stood up and left, hands shaking as she pulled the door and open and shut behind her. As quickly as she’d come, she was gone. Cuddy wanted to say something to her, but she let Dominika go without a word.
There was nothing to say, not really. Cuddy had no idea how any of this would work out for the other woman, and she could not promise that everything would be all right. Possibly, she had the power to make House’s problem go away by refusing to cooperate with the police. But how could Cuddy do that? She pitied Dominika, but how could she ever forgive House for what he’d done? Whatever sympathy she had for her, it wasn’t enough to make Cuddy feel comfortable in letting House get away with his crimes. And since that was the only way she could even begin to help Dominika, Cuddy knew there was nothing she could do. They were both suffering at the hands of House, and only one of them could get what they deserved. It was awful to know that Dominika would be punished for House’s choices, but then Cuddy supposed that was the price she’d agreed to pay when she’d said, “I do.”
That thought in mind, Cuddy just sat there and watched Dominika leave.
Their meeting was not as quick to dismiss. If anything, Cuddy kept going back to it throughout the rest of the week. In theory it was easy to ignore the impact all of this would have on everyone else. Between the ramifications for herself and the way Rachel was behaving, Cuddy shouldn’t have had the capacity to worry about anyone else. But, and maybe this was a way to distract herself, she did wonder what Dominika was going through.
Cuddy wasn’t sure what the point of that was. She wasn’t going to change her mind about House. There was nothing to be done about it. And no matter how desperate Dominika might have been, in the end, she had made a choice to marry someone as screwed up as House. Whatever happened with her immigration… it was probably unavoidable anyway. How much had House really learned or cared to learn about his wife? At least being in jail would provide a reason for how little House and Dominika knew one another.
It was always at that point in the thought process that Cuddy remembered: she didn’t really care. There was nothing she could do, nothing she wanted to do, and it was best, she told herself, to forget about the matter all together. Inevitably though her mind would return to the subject. It was easier than thinking about what House had done, how Rachel had been affected, how Cuddy herself was being affected, how her sister wasn’t returning her phone calls. But then why wouldn’t it be easier? There was no emotional connection there. Everything else was harder, because Cuddy loved or had loved the people involved. And she was avoiding those problems, she realized, by thinking about House’s wife.
But of course, the issues she was avoiding were the ones that needed resolution. Julia was furious apparently, and the longer they didn’t talk, the more Cuddy understood that things would never be the same between them again. And if she wanted a relationship with her sister that was even remotely close, she would have to get a hold of her soon.
Yet Julia was of little concern when compared to Rachel. Needless to say, Rachel was getting worse - more likely to cry over tiny slights and even quicker to anger. She no longer asked for House or even said his name. Cuddy wanted to believe that was a good sign, but everything else was worse. Rachel was starting to act out around Marina, and every day when Cuddy went to leave for work, Rachel would cling to her, cry, and in one case even wet herself. Fixing that had to come first.
To say Cuddy had no idea how was… an understatement. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. There was an obvious solution to making Rachel the happy child she used to be: give her House.
Wilson had said that Rachel was only mirroring the behavior she was getting from Cuddy herself. But Cuddy didn't think that was true. Maybe it was in part, but Rachel was now no longer happy when away from her mother. Something deeper was upsetting her. Something beyond seeing her mother sad was creating this clingy, distraught child. In Cuddy's estimation, that something could have been only been House for as odd as it was that he could ever connect to a child, there seemed to be no other explanation. Simply put, Rachel had grown accustomed to the strange presence in her home. She had come to accept him as a daily part of her life. And seeing him being taken away by the police was more than she could handle. That wasn't what Cuddy wanted or what she'd expected when she'd broken up with House, but there it was. Regardless of how likelihood, Rachel and House had bonded.
For that reason, it seemed natural that the solution would be to let House out of jail, to let Rachel spend time with him. At least, that would have been the simple solution.
However, there was nothing simple about letting House back into their lives. There was nothing possible about it. Even if it was best for Rachel, Cuddy couldn't do it. Again, it seemed like the fate of a person in her hands, the power to help her entirely related to Cuddy forgiving House. But that wasn't going to happen.
That would never happen.
Because although it might make Rachel happy temporarily, at some point, she would learn of the truth. She would grow older and read a newspaper. House would mistakenly tell her, because he thought she should know. Arlene or Julia would get drunk one night and reveal that information. Some day, Rachel would know what House had done. And if Cuddy had let him continue be a part of their lives after that, what would that teach her daughter? What would that say?
No, that wasn't ever going to be an option - no matter how beneficial it might have seemed.
So that just left Cuddy with... what exactly? From where she stood, there seemed to be no easy fix to the problem if House was removed from the equation. Cuddy considered having Rachel see a therapist, but she wasn't sure that would make anything better. Rachel was so young; how could she even begin to process what would happen? She really couldn't, and therapy wouldn't necessarily help because of that. And beyond therapy, Cuddy didn't have many ideas.
She would get a new house immediately, of course. That was decided the second they'd moved into the hotel. It seemed contradictory. To put her daughter through the stress of a move when she was already going through enough seemed like a dumb idea. But Cuddy felt that it would be harder for Rachel to find some semblance of normalcy in the hotel room and then be forced to move. Better to get through the extra upheaval now, when Rachel didn't really like the hotel or want to be there, than let her get used to the place, Cuddy thought.
In the back of her mind, Cuddy understood that it might seem like she was rushing this decision, and maybe she was. Maybe she wanted the house so that she could say she had made some progress in helping her daughter. But she was willing to accept accusations of being motivated by selfishness. After all she'd been through, she didn't exactly care how it looked.
Because of that, she had no problem inviting Wilson to join her house hunting that Saturday.
Rachel, on the other hand, did.
That morning, Cuddy was busy getting ready, pretending not to be consumed with things she needed to do, problems she needed to fix. Admittedly however, she was, and lost in thought, she didn't even realize that there'd been a knock at the door until she heard Rachel yelling.
Concerned, Cuddy immediately darted out into the hallway and towards the door to the hotel room.
When she caught sight of Rachel, Rachel was trying to close the door on someone's hand, Wilson's hand. "Go 'way, Moose," Rachel said through gritted teeth, as she strained to shut Wilson out.
Wilson's response was muffled by the thick door, but Cuddy could just make out: "No, don't do that, sweetie. Your mommy asked me to -"
"Rachel!" Cuddy said sternly. Instantly her daughter let go of the door and turned, a look of innocence plastered on her face. As Wilson slipped inside, Cuddy admonished Rachel. "What have I told you about opening the door when Mommy's not around?" Rachel didn't say anything, guilt overwhelming her. "You know better than that, and you know better than to be mean to Dr. Wilson. He's my friend."
Wilson, who seemed embarrassed at having elicited the reaction he did, interjected bashfully, "It's okay. You don't need to worry about it."
Cuddy shook her head. "No, it's not. I'm sorry about that." As she went to give Wilson a kiss on the cheek to greet him, she explained, "Please don't take it personally. She's been... a handful recently."
"It's... fine." Wilson awkwardly accepted the warm the greeting. Cuddy wasn't surprised by that. Things had been a little uncomfortable since their kiss. She wasn't sure if he was ashamed to have crossed that line or to have done so without any real attraction to her. She didn't ask him and pretended she didn't notice his discomfort.
When she turned around though, she understood that Wilson's problem had nothing to do with the kiss and everything to do with the little girl glaring at him.
"Stop that," Cuddy told her. "Be nice."
It didn't work, which led to Wilson asking, "I take it she's staying with a babysitter?" It was hardly subtle, but she didn’t take offense.
“No, she’s coming with us. Ever since you know, she’s been wanting to stick close to Mommy. Isn’t that right?” she asked Rachel as she scooped her up into her arms. Rachel just sucked her thumb, big blue eyes staring at Wilson in a way that made him shift on his feet. “Just let me get my purse and we can go.”
Cuddy carried Rachel with her to the living room, as she didn’t trust her to behave alone with Wilson. Validating that concern, Rachel said as soon as they were out of earshot, “I don’t like him.”
“You don’t have to like him,” Cuddy said as she scoured the room for where she’d left her purse. “But he is my friend, so you have to be nice to him.”
“No.”
Spotting her purse stuffed behind a sofa cushion, Cuddy reached down with Rachel in her arms to grab it. “It’s not optional, Rachel. Be nice to him.”
Thumb still jammed into her mouth, Rachel whined around it, “I want House.”
It hurt, but the confession didn’t surprise Cuddy in the least. Her daughter missed House. Even if she didn’t say it all the time, she did. And without any understanding of what constituted a romantic relationship, she looked at Wilson’s presence as…. an attempt to replace House.
Cuddy sighed. “I know you do. I really do. But House can’t come over right now. Okay?” She kissed Rachel’s forehead. “Wilson’s not replacing him. He’s just helping Mommy today, all right?” Rachel didn’t say anything, a sure sign that she wasn’t convinced. Cuddy could only assume then that there would be no getting through to her, and so she took advantage of Rachel’s silence and kissed her again. “Come on. Let’s go pick out our new home.”
When they were in front of Wilson once more, he offered, “I can leave if -”
“Don’t be ridiculous. She’ll calm down, and I’d like your input.”
“Well, if you’re sure….”
“I am.” As they left the hotel room, she added, “Besides, I’d like you to meet my realtor. You want to press the button?” Cuddy asked Rachel when they’d reached the elevator. She shook her head, so Cuddy did it.
Wilson stood next to her, confused. “I like my apartment though, so -”
“That’s not why you should meet her,” she said with a smile.
His fingers uneasily picked at the cast on his other arm. “You’re setting me up?” He visibly didn’t like the idea. “I don’t think I should try to date anyone right now. And I don’t know why you’d even want to -”
“You know why.”
She didn’t go into detail, the implication obvious. After Rachel’s behavior, Cuddy wasn’t going to explicitly state that she had kissed Wilson. But between the two of them, the reason was obvious.
It was one that made Wilson blush. “That was a mistake - a horrible mistake. Do we really need to discuss this? I thought we were okay.”
“I’m not angry,” Cuddy reassured as they stepped onto the elevator. “We’re both… trying to adjust. I want sympathy. You want someone to funnel all your concern into.”
Wilson looked as though he regretted being trapped in the elevator with her. “Please don’t tell me you buy into this idea that I like needy -”
“I don’t know what I believe anymore, Wilson,” she said casually. “But she’s in her thirties, pretty, and widowed three years ago. If you like her, take advantage of that. If you don’t, please pretend you do so I can look at these homes without her constant input.”
He wagged a finger at her. “And there it is: the true reason for your attempts at matchmaking,” he said in a purposely overdramatic manner.
She smiled. “That might be the main reason, I admit. But the other things I said are -”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” he said seriously. “It was a mistake, and I shouldn’t have ever tried to….” His gaze shifting to Rachel who was still giving him a disgusted look, he stopped himself from saying he’d kissed her mother. “Do that.”
“Good. Because I don’t want to poison our friendship with your libido.”
He held his hands up in capitulation. “Believe me. I’m hands off. And if I ever thought about reconsidering, you’ve got your little thug to keep you safe.”
Cuddy groaned though her heart wasn’t into it. “Oh, Rachel.” Squeezing her daughter close, she encouraged, “How about you smile?”
“No!”
“Think of it this way,” she said to Wilson. “You’ve finally met a girl you can’t charm.”
As the elevator door opened, he joked, “Is that supposed to refer to you or to her?”
She didn’t answer. She just said, “I’ll drive.” Thankfully he didn’t push the matter.
Then again, she hadn’t expected him to. He didn’t want to relive their kiss any more than she did. It had been a mistake, which should have made repetition completely avoidable. Cuddy just wanted to make sure that it definitely would be. Again, that should have been a given. They needed each other's friendship, not their affection. But as the last week had demonstrated, what Cuddy needed wasn't to be given automatically.
She needed a daughter who was unaffected. She didn't get that. She needed a sister who called her and asked how she was doing, having just nearly been killed by her ex-boyfriend. That didn't happen. She needed the woman her ex had married to not exist. Clearly, that wasn't possible. And now Cuddy needed a new home that met the most minimal of criteria, and that too seemed difficult.
As she distastefully surveyed the first property, Cuddy told herself that she had made the right choice setting limits with Wilson. She didn't need ambivalence right now.
The second and third homes were equally unsatisfactory, too many repairs needed in the case of the former, a pool Cuddy had no interest in maintaining in the latter. Wilson did his best to keep Dana, the realtor, out of the way, but Cuddy could tell he didn't want to date this woman. He flirted, but it lacked the charm he was capable of. Maybe he still had feelings for Sam; Cuddy didn't know, but regardless, his heart wasn't into it.
"I think you should get the next one," Wilson said in the car before they'd even seen the house, before they were even on the same street as the property.
Cuddy looked in her rear view as she changed lanes. "You don't like her."
"She's fine," he lied. "But from what she told me, the hou -" He abruptly cut himself off before he could say the word, house. She hadn't had to expressly forbid using House's name, but Wilson had obviously known that saying that word in front of Rachel would be... troublesome. "I mean the property sounds like something you'll enjoy."
Cuddy let the near slip slide. "I don't know. I get the feeling she senses my desperation and -”
“And you thought I wanted to date someone like that.”
“Not necessarily date. But -”
“I wanna go home,” Rachel whined loudly from the back seat, her feet kicking into the air in frustration.
“I know, honey. We’re just gonna look at one more home,” Cuddy told her encouragingly as she pulled into the driveway of the next house.
Wilson uttered under his breath, “God, I hope so.”
“Not you too,” she said with a smile.
She expected him to say something, but he didn’t. She guessed that was the reaction she should have anticipated. Wilson was nice; he was a good man. If there were any hint of irritation or frustration in her, he would do his best to ameliorate the situation. Given what she’d been through, of course, he would stop. He wouldn’t continue with the joke, needle her until she couldn’t stand it anymore. He wasn’t House.
And that was why she would never be attracted to Wilson, she thought in that moment. He would be good for her, stable, but he would never make her… insatiable, caught somewhere between wanting to kill him and wanting to make love to him.
That shouldn’t have been a bad thing. She should have wanted someone who wouldn’t drive his car through her home. As House had proven, there were far worse things than a man who was kind and safe. Somehow though… she knew she would never want what a man like Wilson could offer. She would always feel as though she were settling.
Unless she made the same mistake twice, she would always be alone.
“Cuddy?” Wilson asked out of concern, forcing her back to reality. She turned to look at him. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
It was hardly believable, but in front of Rachel, he wouldn’t push the matter beyond asking, “Are you going to get out of the car?”
Cuddy realized he was right; she hadn’t moved. “Yeah,” she said shaking her head as though to clear her thoughts. “Yes, of course.”
Dutifully she pulled the keys out of the ignition and grabbed her purse. Wilson’s eyes were set on her. Though he attempted to stifle the worry in the look, he wasn’t successful. She could tell that he expected her to confess what was wrong - or, because he knew the answer to that question, to turn to him then for comfort. The weight of that was heavy, made her skin blush angrily with embarrassment. She didn’t like needing him, didn’t like needing reassurance from someone who actually got off on helping women in her position. So she forced herself to ignore him and get out of the car.
Without glancing back at him, she went straight to Rachel and began to unbuckle her from her car seat. Immediately Rachel motioned to be picked up.
Cuddy, however, had carried her around for the tour of the first three houses. Her arms were beginning to ache, and she wanted Rachel to expend enough energy that she would go down for her afternoon nap easily. “No, I think it’s time for you to walk a little bit.”
She set Rachel on the ground, eliciting a loud “No.”
“Yes, you’ll be fine.” Rachel didn’t budge, forcing Cuddy to gently scoot her away from the car so she could close the door.
“Up,” Rachel demanded, this time more firmly. When Cuddy began to walk past her, Rachel started to cry. There were no tears in the noisy sobs; she was doing it to get her way, which ensured she wouldn’t.
“Come on, Rachel,” she said casually, as Wilson started walking up the driveway. “You don’t want to be left behind.” Cuddy didn’t look back as she went ahead with Wilson. “She’ll come,” she explained to Wilson quietly.
Predictably enough Rachel stopped crying the second she realized her ploy for attention wasn’t going to work. Running as quickly as she could, she followed after Cuddy. With that tiny issue easily resolved, Cuddy finally got a look at the house.
Based on the first few picks, she wasn’t expecting to like Dana’s current choice at all, and truthfully she wasn’t sure she did. A gray cedar roof made the house look old, like something out of the English countryside despite being set on Carnegie Lake. The siding was white, which surely meant that every time a bug killed itself on her house or a stray cat marked its territory, she would know it had happened. And that wasn’t even beginning to consider how much she’d have to pay someone to rake up the leaves of the many adult-sized trees that seemed to line the property.
“Let her at least show you inside this one before you reject it,” Wilson told her. “Don’t talk yourself into not liking it.”
She wanted to roll her eyes at the advice but didn’t. He was doing her a favor after all, and given that they’d driven together, he was now trapped with her until she found a house or gave up. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Her words were more than just diplomacy. She guessed he was right. The house was close to the hospital, more so than her last place had been. It would have been foolish to immediately relinquish the potential convenience because of the house’s color.
“I admit,” Dana said excitedly as they met her at the front door. “When you sent me your criteria, this didn’t exactly fit but -”
“What does that mean - doesn’t exactly fit?” Cuddy asked pointedly, Rachel burying her face in the back of her mother’s legs. Instinctively, in spite of what she’d said in front of the car, Cuddy reached down and picked her up.
Dana unlocked the door. “It’s one story, like you wanted. No pool, although it does back up against the lake - the views are fantastic; you’ll love it. Original owners have a sick kid or nephew or mother or something - maybe it’s their dog - I don’t know. Anyway, they’re selling it relatively cheap for the capital, so it’s near your price range despite its -”
“Near,” Cuddy pointed out. “How -”
“Doesn’t matter what they’re asking. It’s whether we can convince them to take less than what they want. In this case, I’m sure we can come to an agreement that’s within the upper range of your -”
“Then why did you hesitate to show me it?” Cuddy could only take that to mean that the price was significantly more than she wanted to pay. And just looking at the house from the outside, she could tell that that must have been the case. A long driveway to reach a home set far back from the sidewalk, huge trees and a well-kempt flowerbed, and decorative dormers along the house - there was something obviously moneyed about the property.
“It’s five bedrooms, more than you wanted.”
Cuddy shook her head. “I don’t need that many -”
“Let me show you what it looks like inside,” Dana said, opening the door and gesturing for them to step inside.
“I think you should give it a chance,” Wilson agreed. “Besides, you could use an extra room for a study or -”
“If you ever have another baby, there’ll be plenty of room. Just take a look. I’ll think you’ll really like it.”
Cuddy nodded her head in acquiescence. She hadn’t been convinced; she just wanted the conversation to stop. From her perspective, finding a place to live under these circumstances was difficult enough. She didn’t need to listen to them convince her that this was the right home, not when they were just desperate for her to purchase something. And she really didn’t need to hear about babies or other ways she could adjust to fill the house. Her life was complicated enough without thinking about what else she might like to change.
Ignoring them, she carried Rachel into the house and began looking around. Honestly it was hard to find anything she liked. Oh, the family room and master bedroom had beautiful fireplaces she could make use of in the winter. The kitchen had a large window behind the sink that would make doing dishes less irritating - especially in the summer when the sun would set late and she'd be able to look out and see pink sky over the green trees and blue lake. The yard was large; the entire property a little over two acres in size, and Rachel would surely love running around and playing, learning to climb the trees and catch butterflies and feed squirrels. The extra space could easily be used to potentially house her mother when Arlene was no longer capable of living alone or could be turned into a playroom for Rachel. No, it wasn't that the house had nothing to offer, that it was in disrepair or horribly suited to her taste. For although it was bigger than she wanted, Cuddy actually did recognize that the place seemed nice enough. But...
Part of her hated it.
She didn't want to move, didn't want to envision herself in another home after all the years she'd spend in her last house. She didn't like that this was being forced on her and liked even less the fact that, if she had been told a year ago she would be moving, she would have assumed it would be to move in with him. She could have never imagined that this would be happening because of him, because of what he’d done.
It was hard to enjoy the process with her knowing that she was doing it because he had forced this upon her. She could afford it, sure. Financially she had made wise investments over the years, and the dual nature of her job allowed for a larger paycheck than someone who only performed administrative or scholarly duties would receive. House hadn’t left her destitute, wouldn’t. The problem was not a monetary one. That didn’t make it any better for her.
All she could see in the paint, in the strategically staged furniture was her own loneliness. She could buy this place, and she would like it well enough. But she would always see in it the circumstances under which she had purchased the home. She would always remember what he had done. Maybe that would get easier with time, but she doubted it. As new as their break up still was, she tended to believe he would be her last boyfriend for… too long of a time.
Who would want to date the woman with the crazy ex? Who would she trust enough to welcome into her life?
As Cuddy toured the porch off the family room, she suddenly had enough. The house was fine, but she couldn’t stand feeling like House was behind her pushing her into this. She didn’t like knowing that, even in jail, he was dictating what she did.
“You know what, Dana?” she suddenly said, holding Rachel close. “I think I need some more time to think about this. I’ll get back to you by Monday with my decision, if that’s okay.”
Both Wilson and Dana looked at her like they were missing something. But only Dana started to ask, “Are you sure? Because -”
“Yes. I am. We should leave,” Cuddy said to Wilson. “But I’ll let you know if I want to put an offer down or look at something else.”
Awkward goodbyes followed, Wilson dutifully falling in line. Only when they were in the car did he let any of his concern show through. “Are you okay?”
Cuddy didn’t answer. All she said was, “I’m hungry. Let’s get lunch.”
“Okay. Where -”
“There’s a McDonalds just down the street. We passed it on the way over.” Wilson was understandably surprised by the choice. When they had lunch together at the hospital, she tended to stick to fare that required little cooking: salads, yogurt with granola. Nutrition aside, those foods allowed her to eat almost immediately - which she wanted when there was always a chance that work would call her away.
Today she only had one practical concern on her mind at the moment: distracting Rachel. Cuddy wanted to answer Wilson’s question, but she couldn’t truthfully with her daughter present.
“Rachel can play on the jungle gym while we talk.”
“You sure about that?” he asked doubtfully. “She’s been sticking kind of close to you.”
“Once she eats a little and sees the other kids playing, she’ll want to join them.”
Rachel didn’t disappoint. She ate her apple slices and one chicken nugget before being whisked away by the sight of happy children playing in the pit of brightly colored balls. Part of her hesitated to leave, but Cuddy told her, “Go play. Mommy will be right here if you need something, all right?”
Rachel gave her a hug and then toddled off to climb into the jungle gym.
When she’d gotten far enough away that she couldn’t possibly hear what they were saying, Wilson initiated the conversation. “I’ve never seen someone eat a strawberry sundae from here.”
“They’re good,” Cuddy insisted. But she hadn’t eaten much of it, instead using her spoon to stir the syrup and ice cream into an unappetizing pink mixture.
“What happened?” Wilson asked.
She pushed Rachel’s food away from the edge of the table. “It was a nice house.”
“That it was.”
“I guess I like it.”
“Then what happened? Why not put a bid on it?”
“I think I will. I don’t know. I just kept thinking that I’m looking for a house because of what he did.”
Wilson didn’t look surprised. He simply nodded his head as though he understood. “And then you started thinking about him running his car through your home.”
“A little bit. Mostly, I was wishing that my choices didn’t feel like a direct response to his behavior.”
There was silence between them as he contemplated what she was saying. When he finally spoke, he was angry. “He should be here to see this,” he declared.
Cuddy didn’t understand, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to. “Why would you want House to be -”
“He gets to go to jail. He doesn’t have to see any of this,” Wilson explained. “He should know what he’s done.”
“No,” she said with an emphatic shake of the head. “He deserves to be -”
“Of course he does. I’m not - Cuddy, I’m not saying he shouldn’t be charged or punished for what he’s done.”
Cuddy understood then what it was Wilson was saying, what he meant. Being with her was harder than he envisioned prison being for House. Seeing all he had today, from Rachel’s behavior to Cuddy’s own, had made Wilson unhappier. It had probably made him wish that he’d known what House was going to do. Cuddy had already told Wilson that it wasn’t his fault, but surely he felt guilty about being the one to ride over with House, to see him right before the crash and do seemingly nothing to stop it. This would only make the feeling worse.
“It’s hard for you to witness, because you care. You have a conscience. If he were here, he wouldn’t care that Rachel cries all the time or that she’s become extremely attached to me. He wouldn’t pay attention to any of that, and if he did, it would only be because it irritated him.”
Wilson couldn’t argue with that. “I guess,” he said sheepishly. “I don’t know. Somehow when I think of all we’ve been through, jail doesn’t seem like enough.”
On that they agreed. There really didn’t seem to be any punishment in the world suitable for the man who had hurt her - them - so much.
*****************************
Monday morning, Cuddy placed the call to Dana and confirmed that she wanted to make an offer on the house. As reluctant as Cuddy had been to make choices because of House, she despised the idea of refraining from decisions because of him just as much. And in the end, she needed a place to live. She needed to give Rachel stability. However it made Cuddy feel, she had to put that aside and make the right choices for her daughter.
The conversation itself went as planned. Dana was relieved to have hooked a potential buyer. They debated offers and chose a number ten minutes after Cuddy had placed the call. Everything was going as she’d intended.
Then Sanford Wells knocked on her office door.
Cuddy wasn’t expecting him. There had been no scheduled meeting, and he tended to be polite enough to call ahead before barging in on her. He liked to run the hospital with a veneer of casualness, but he wouldn’t have been so rude as to show up unannounced unless it was important.
“Dana, I’m going to have to call you back,” Cuddy said as she waved him into her office. Quickly hanging up the phone, she gestured for the chairman of the hospital board to sit. “Please take a seat. What can I do for you?”
“Thank you,” he said curtly before sitting down in the chair across from her desk.
“Did we have a meeting or -”
“I wanted to let you know that I cancelled the meeting you were supposed to have with the board this week.”
She looked at him carefully as though the explanation would be written on his face. When it wasn’t, she asked, “Any particular reason why? Or why you felt the need to tell me in person?”
He clasped his hands together calmly. “Before we convene the rest of the board, you should be prepared for the meeting.”
“And you don’t think I am,” she deduced, surprised by his conclusion.
“Let’s make no mistake: I trust you to run this hospital. I backed you with Atlantic Net. Not many people would have done that.” It was a point ill made. He had allowed her to proceed in that matter the way she wanted - all the while threatening to fire her if she didn’t deliver. “If you choose to ask the board to revoke House’s tenure and fire him, I will, again, support you with that decision.”
“Then why cancel the meeting?”
Sanford exhaled roughly. “A few reasons. They amount to: you don’t have the votes, and you don’t want the attention.”
“That’s news to me,” she said honestly. Fighting the urge to fiddle with her necklace, Cuddy asked, “Whose support wouldn’t I have?”
“Ron, for starters.”
“I guess that’s not surprising. He’s always respected what -”
“You need unanimous approval.”
She nodded her head. “I realize that. I can get it. Ron owes -”
“He doesn’t seem to be under that impression. He’s trying to convince some of the others that House’s behavior is a private matter and not subject to the board’s -”
“He drove his car through my home,” she said, trying to sound as calm as she could. “It may have been for personal reasons, but House is a danger to others.”
“I don’t disagree. But you don’t have the votes right now.”
She shrugged. “Then you can wait for a conviction, and when a reporter calls and asks why you waited to fire -”
“I don’t want a conviction,” Sanford said in a firm voice that displayed just how convinced he was that this was the right thing to do.
The statement and the honesty behind it shocked Cuddy, but she realized almost immediately that she shouldn’t have been. Sanford only knew what Ron’s plans were, because the two had talked, apparently, and Ron had been successful. Her tone equally stern, she said, “I don’t know what Ron said to you, but I can assure you that it will take far more than ‘It was personal’ to convince me.”
“Understandable,” he said with a gentle bob of the head. “You know more than anyone else what House’s value at the hospital is.”
“I do. For that very reason, it should be apparent to you how gravely I take his actions in this matter,” she said, folding her arms across her chest.
“Nevertheless he has great success rates, and more importantly, he brings us a clientele who attract attention. I don’t see other doctors treating leaders of other countries -”
“You do realize Mr. Dibala died in House’s care.”
Sanford smiled and waved off that point. “Doesn’t matter. Potential patients look at that and think twice about choosing other hospitals.”
Cuddy felt like laughing but didn’t. “Patients care about cost and distance, the latter something we have no control over and the former I’ve worked hard to make less of a barrier.”
“For the most part, yes. There are those, however, with a certain amount of income that give them the freedom to choose where they go and most importantly who they donate their money to.”
“They’re not going to donate to someone who -”
“If he’s convicted, that’s true. If this goes any further than it has, you would be right. Like I said, I trust you to run this hospital. Whatever you choose, I will do my best to support you.” The sentiment was anemic at best, making it obvious that he didn’t really feel that way. “All I’m asking is that before you finalize your decision, you consider the ramifications. And the alternatives.”
She stayed quiet for a moment - not to do what he suggested, because she had already decided the second House hade made his choice how she wanted to respond. But she was afraid that if she revealed to Sanford how she felt, she would not do it tactfully.
When she thought she could talk without yelling, she went for the more direct route, “What exactly would you like me to do?” He opened his mouth, no doubt to repeat the same line about backing her choice up, but she stopped him. “Clearly you have a preference as to how I should proceed. I’d like to know what your plan is.”
“Don’t put him in prison. With his mouth, he’ll be dead in a month.” He was joking, but she almost wished he wasn’t. “Right now, there isn’t much press, but if goes to jail, that changes. Suddenly, there’s a spotlight on the hospital - and you. We’ll lose donors, and as you know, when we lack funds, what goes first is care for the poor and uninsured. And they will be the ones who lose the most in this.”
She tucked the thought away for later but didn’t take the time to pick apart the logic for the moment. As tempting as it was, it would only make her look eager to disregard all input from her employer. Granted she was, but she needed to seem above that kind of vengeful behavior; she needed to seem impartial. And the fact was if this were anyone else, she would take the time to consider what she was being told. She would look at it from all angles before making a choice. The same had to at least appear to be true with this.
“Let’s assume I agree with you there,” she said carefully. “It’ll be bad for business. What would you have me do with him?”
Sanford grinned. “If you were to drop the case, you could easily put him on leave and, when everyone has forgotten what he did or stopped caring, fire him then. We won’t lose the confidence of our purse strings by and large, and his personality will guarantee that no one ever hires him again. Your hands are clean, but you benefit.”
It was too neatly presented for Cuddy to accept openly. With a sigh, she simply offered, “I’ll think about it.” Then she realized the problem with his solution. “But even if I wanted to have the charges dropped, I’m not sure I can make that happen.”
“Of course you can.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of cough drops. Unraveling the paper to get to another lozenge, he said suddenly, “My wife is obsessed with the Titanic - the actual ship, not the movie. Watches documentaries about it all the time. You know how the Titanic sunk?”
She wasn’t sure how to respond or what the point of the conversation was. “An iceberg,” she said cautiously, confusion making her voice quaver. “Who doesn’t know that?”
“The ship had sixteen compartments built into it. They were said to be watertight, but of course they weren’t. They didn’t want passengers to have to walk up steps to get around the compartments, so they put doors in the damn thing. Actual doors,” he said, popping a cough drop in his mouth. “How dumb is that? Anyway, these compartments were supposed to be able to take on water and keep the ship afloat. You could flood any two, in some scenarios three, and it would be all right. Or you could flood the first four, and the ship would be okay. Know what happened? Five compartments flooded in the first hour.”
“That’s a wonderful history lesson,” she said dryly.
“If you’re willing to drop the charges, everything else will fall in line. It only takes one, and then the rest buckle under the weight. Wilson’s probably looking for a reason to forgive House anyway,” he said in a way that made Cuddy’s stomach clench painfully.
Wilson hadn’t said anything like that - yet. But Cuddy realized that she feared now that he would. He always forgave House. Always. He was angry now, but there was no guarantee that he would stay that way. And Sanford was right; if Cuddy wanted to let House go, Wilson wouldn’t fight her on it. He would be supportive.
“You know everyone involved,” Sanford explained. “And from what I’ve seen,” he said, standing up. “You can be extremely persuasive when you choose to be.”
“How long do I have to think about it?”
He shrugged. “The sooner you make your choice, the better. There is a time factor involved whether you decide to prosecute or not. But if you could let me know what you decide by the beginning of next month, that would be ideal.”
“All right.”
“Then I’ll let you get back to work.”
She should have said something to ease his exit, so that it didn’t seem as abrupt as it was. But she was too busy thinking about his solution to care about anything else.
Hours later she still hadn’t wrapped her mind around this turn of events. Before, no one in her life would profess to be a fan of House’s. People had begged her to fire him, demanded it hotly after he’d done something unprofessional. Aside from Wilson, no one had liked him. And now, she was surrounded by people imploring her to think the best of the man who had tried to kill her.
Somehow, when she wasn’t looking, the earth had shifted on its axis, and she was now in a universe that wanted him regardless of what he had done. Sanford had repeated how he would do what she wanted, but that was just talk. In truth he didn’t care about her at all, what she wanted; he cared about getting his way, and what he wanted was to implement a solution that completely ignored what she’d been through, what she was going through.
He wasn’t the only one, of course. Dominika wanted her anchor to the country back. Rachel, not knowing the circumstances, wanted her friend. The only person who seemed to care at all was Wilson, but even he had made a comment about the ineffectiveness of jail.
He didn’t think prison was enough for House - a sentiment Sanford Wells had echoed.
Cuddy understood what they were both getting at now. It hadn’t been about how miserable she’d made Wilson. His comment had been kinder than that.
He’d been saying that jail wouldn’t be easy for House. He was probably being treated poorly or had been or would be isolated from the other prisoners because of his inability to play nice. Naturally he would hate all of it: being forced to hold his tongue, being forced to listen to others’ commands. In simple terms, it would be Hell for him, which was the least he deserved.
But she was beginning to see that maybe Wilson and Sanford were right. In that environment, House would have plenty of opportunities to suffer. He wouldn’t have any chance to see how he had made her suffer (or Rachel or Wilson or her sister or anyone else). He would envision in a moment of bitterness that she was happy, screwing every man in sight, having celebrations at the hospital. She’d gotten rid of the biggest pain in her ass, and he would assume that that meant she was happy. And in his head, he would become the victim.
He would be the man ruined. That this was all by his own design would eventually be ignored. She would become the cold-hearted woman who had used him and dumped him when it was convenient. If he thought of her fondly, he would remind himself quickly of how happy she was to be without him, and he would return to his one-dimensional version of her. Controlled, surrounded by the threat of violence and punishment, he would see himself as the one who had suffered the most, the only one who was currently suffering. Part of her wanted to believe that he would take responsibility for his state and accept the blame.
But why would he?
Instead of reflecting upon his own behavior when they’d broken up, he had slept with every prostitute he could find. He had gotten married to hurt her. He had taken advantage of his proclivity for self-destruction and used it as a weapon to make her feel bad. And when she had felt bad, when she’d tried to reach out to him, he had responded with violence, because she had dared to be kind while flirting with other men.
He wouldn’t change now. He didn’t believe people could change. His part in all of this would fade away from his own memory, and he would see himself as the innocent party. She knew it.
But what was the alternative? Letting him go free?
No, that wouldn’t work. How could she ever feel safe with him loose on the streets? If she couldn’t make him take responsibility, she thought she should at least do whatever it was that would make her happy.
Then she remembered that, because of House, she wasn’t sure she would ever be happy again.
The choice suddenly seemed difficult to make. Sighing she thought she just had no idea what to do.
Go on to the next chapter