House: A Worn-Out Place (Lisa Cuddy)
Written for halfamoon: 14 Days Celebrating Women.
Title: A Worn-Out Place
Author: voleuse
Fandom: House
Character: Lisa Cuddy
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: A certain space -- however small -- should be left scarred by the grand and damaging parade.
Notes: S4, no spoilers
Every morning, Lisa Cuddy stared into the mirror and swore she would not spend her morning mentally chronicling her grievances.
She broke the vow every morning, usually twenty minutes after getting to work. (The first twenty minutes were nice--a fresh cup of coffee, a clean desk, and the knowledge she administered at one of the most prestigious hospitals on the East coast.) Twenty minutes into her workday, an expense report would land on her desk, or Legal would ring her up, or one of House's minions would appear at her elbow.
Every evening, before she walked to the parking lot, she swore she would quit if she felt the same way in twenty-four hours.
She always broke that vow, too.
*
After the first time House commented on her breasts, she wore turtlenecks for the rest of the week. When he kept commenting, she realized it was a losing battle, and if he was going to make jokes about her figure, she might as well wear clothes she liked.
The cleavage, she admitted to herself, was useful. The few colleagues smarter than her would take a look down her blouse and get careless. (She attributed her increased budget in '04 to a serendipitous sale at Victoria's Secret.) The ones dumber than her, well, they were easy enough to direct anyway.
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, she felt guilty about it all, but usually she was tired enough not to consider it.
*
At the end of each workday, she had her secretary tally up her accomplishments.
Committee meetings completed. Budgets balanced. Personnel hired. Lawsuits dismissed or settled. Lawsuits pending or served. Patients cured and discharged. Patients lost.
In the distant past, she used to be able to ring up her accomplishments in words instead of numbers. Numbers, she discovered, were safer. (Keep distant. Keep sane.) She presented numbers to the board, used numbers to hide her staff from critical eyes.
Every morning, Lisa Cuddy stared into the mirror and reminded herself she would save lives that day, too.
###
A/N: Title and summary adapted from Kay Ryan's Things Shouldn't Be So Hard. Link courtesy of breathe_poetry.
Linked on halfamoon.
Title: A Worn-Out Place
Author: voleuse
Fandom: House
Character: Lisa Cuddy
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: A certain space -- however small -- should be left scarred by the grand and damaging parade.
Notes: S4, no spoilers
Every morning, Lisa Cuddy stared into the mirror and swore she would not spend her morning mentally chronicling her grievances.
She broke the vow every morning, usually twenty minutes after getting to work. (The first twenty minutes were nice--a fresh cup of coffee, a clean desk, and the knowledge she administered at one of the most prestigious hospitals on the East coast.) Twenty minutes into her workday, an expense report would land on her desk, or Legal would ring her up, or one of House's minions would appear at her elbow.
Every evening, before she walked to the parking lot, she swore she would quit if she felt the same way in twenty-four hours.
She always broke that vow, too.
*
After the first time House commented on her breasts, she wore turtlenecks for the rest of the week. When he kept commenting, she realized it was a losing battle, and if he was going to make jokes about her figure, she might as well wear clothes she liked.
The cleavage, she admitted to herself, was useful. The few colleagues smarter than her would take a look down her blouse and get careless. (She attributed her increased budget in '04 to a serendipitous sale at Victoria's Secret.) The ones dumber than her, well, they were easy enough to direct anyway.
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, she felt guilty about it all, but usually she was tired enough not to consider it.
*
At the end of each workday, she had her secretary tally up her accomplishments.
Committee meetings completed. Budgets balanced. Personnel hired. Lawsuits dismissed or settled. Lawsuits pending or served. Patients cured and discharged. Patients lost.
In the distant past, she used to be able to ring up her accomplishments in words instead of numbers. Numbers, she discovered, were safer. (Keep distant. Keep sane.) She presented numbers to the board, used numbers to hide her staff from critical eyes.
Every morning, Lisa Cuddy stared into the mirror and reminded herself she would save lives that day, too.
###
A/N: Title and summary adapted from Kay Ryan's Things Shouldn't Be So Hard. Link courtesy of breathe_poetry.
Linked on halfamoon.