Inquiry: Day Eight, 1 p.m. - Rachel Cuddy
Title: InquiryAuthor: zeppomarx
Characters: All the usual suspects, plus more.
Summary: When a panel is convened to review the facts of Gregory House’s life, his fellows (past and present), colleagues, patients and friends are called to testify.
Thanks: To Brigid45, for her infinite wisdom and advice.
Warnings, etc.: Possible character death.
Disclaimers: Don't own House or any of the show's characters. If I did, things might have gone a little differently.
Chapter Summary: Testimony of Rachel Cuddy
Day Eight, 1 p.m.
The child psychologist, a plump, red-haired woman, escorted the next witness into the inquiry room, lifting her up onto a booster seat stop the hard wooden chair. She then seated herself directly across the small table from the witness, and would be the one to ask all of the questions in this session.
“What is your name, my dear?”
“Hi. I’m Rachel.”
The little girl with the long, dark hair fidgeted a bit, perched uncomfortably on the booster seat. She held in her arms a floppy-eared stuffed rabbit.
“Well, Rachel, do you understand the difference between telling the truth and telling a lie?”
“Uh-huh. My mommy told me I should always tell the truth.”
“That’s very good, Rachel.”
“Sometimes, though, you have to keep a secret.”
“That’s true, Rachel. Did your mommy tell you that, too?”
“No. Hows did.”
“You remember Dr. House?”
“That bloody scalawag?” The image of a very tall, kind of grumpy man with a cane popped into her mind. She smiled and then giggled. But then, she grew somber as she remembered how mad her mommy got when she’d ask if Hows could come play with her again. Rachel bit her lower lip hard, to keep from crying.
The woman’s voice was soft and gentle. “That’s a very good description of him. Why did you call him a bloody scalawag, honey?”
The nice woman distracted her from how sad she felt. “It’s a secret,” she said. “Hows said don’t tell Mommy.”
“Well, your mommy isn’t here. Do you think it would be okay to tell us?”
Rachel pursed her lips and frowned as she thought it through. Finally, she nodded. “Hows showed me the pirate cartoon, and he said I could call him a bloody scalawag.”
“What did he call you?”
“Ummmm… he said ‘me hearty’.”
“You like the pirate cartoon?”
“Yes, but Mommy doesn’t.” Again she smiled, thinking about how silly it was when the lady walked the plank and floated because her boobies floated in the water.
“Ah. What can you tell us about Dr. House? Remember, you have to tell the truth.”
“Mommy said.”
“Yes, she did. So we know you’ll tell us the truth. Now, about Dr. House.”
“He hurt his leg.”
“Do you know how that happened?”
“No. Mommy and I went to see him, and she made me stay in the living room. I got sleepy. I got up on his sofa.”
The woman looked confused, turning to glance quickly at the panel behind her. What Rachel didn’t realize was that the child psychologist, for a moment, thought Rachel was talking about House’s original leg injury, not the self-surgery to excise the tumors. Then she figured it out. “Did you fall asleep there?”
“Uh-huh.”
“When you woke up, were you still at Dr. House’s apartment?”
“No. I was in the car.”
“Do you remember anything else?”
Frowning again, she tried to remember. She’d been so sleepy, but she remembered waking up in the car and seeing Mommy driving, then hearing something from the back seat and twisting to look. “His leg was all red -- bloody -- like a scalawag is, I guess -- and Mommy took him to the hospital. He talked like a pirate.” Rachel had been pretty scared when she saw all that blood, but then House had made her laugh, and she figured it would be okay.
“Did they make him better?”
“I don’t know. I wrote him a letter. I said I wanted him to be my friend again. I wanted him to come play with me some more.”
“And did he come play with you again?”
“N-No. I never seen… saw… him after that, so I got sad.” As is the way with small children, Rachel’s emotions bounced quickly from one feeling to another. In the course of a few minutes, she’d gone from nervous to happy to sad to happy and back to sad again.
“So you liked Dr. House?”
And now happy. She gave a big grin. “Uh-huh. He played Feed the Monkey with me, and gave me treats. He made mac-n-cheese for me. He liked to play games.”
“His leg hurt before, though, didn’t it?”
She nodded her head robustly until her dark, straight bangs bounced up and down. “He had a cane. I drew pictures of him like a pirate, but Mommy took them away.”
“So his leg hurt him?”
“Sometimes.”
“But your Mommy and Dr. House stopped seeing each other, didn’t they, Rachel?”
“Uh-huh. I miss him. But Mommy said he got sick and couldn’t come visit anymore.” She didn’t want to tell these strangers… and she never ever told Mommy… but ever since Mommy had said that about Hows, she’d been afraid that if she got sick, Mommy wouldn’t want her anymore either.
“Do you know what happened to the home you used to live in?”
“Grandma Arlene was babysitting me, and then Mommy said the house was broken, so we moved.”
“It’s been a long time since you saw Dr. House, hasn’t it?”
All of a sudden, the sadness overwhelmed her. The little girl’s lower lip slid into a pout and began to quiver as her eyes started filling up. “I was three. Now I’m five and three quarters. I want to see Hows, but Mommy won’t even let me say his name. I guess she got pretty mad at him when he got sick.” She didn’t mean to say the next sentence, but it just slipped out. “Is she gonna get mad at me if I get sick?”
She started to cry. The plump red-haired woman jumped up abruptly and ran around the small table, enfolding the little girl in her arms. The stuffed rabbit tumbled to the floor, but the woman picked it up and returned it to the little girl, who clutched it tightly, wrapping both of her arms around it and holding it to her heart as she sobbed.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” she said. “It must be hard not to see your friend. We didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m sure your mommy won’t get mad at you if you get sick.”
“R-r-really?”
“Really.”
Rachel sniffled, and the woman pulled a tissue from her pocket so Rachel could blow her nose. Slowly, the little girl pulled herself together. She looked up at the woman, her brown eyes red with crying. “Do you think maybe Mommy will change her mind? I really miss Hows.”
The woman sent an enquiring glance at her colleagues, some of whom shrugged and slowly shook their heads. “I couldn’t say, dear. Are you feeling a little better now?”
Rachel nodded.
“I think that’s all we want to know.”
The woman helped Rachel out of the booster seat, and walked the sad little girl to the door. Rachel, occasionally wiping her nose on her sleeve, dragged her floppy-eared rabbit behind her.
“Fifteen-minute break.”
Day Eight, 3 p.m. - Dr. Lisa Cuddy 1