Fear of Fire Leaves You Cold, Chapter 4.2
Title: Fear of Fire Leaves You Cold, Chapter 4
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. Also please note that, while I plan on making this House/Cuddy, it's not going to be a quick thing. Given what House has done, it will take a while to work through all of those issues. If you're looking for an easy happy ending, this isn't the piece for you. Some chapters are split for length. These next few chapters were written for harvesttime88 for the help_lisa auction.
Warning: This fic contains sex. This chapter marks the beginning of a few appearances from Dominika (her name is only mentioned at the end in this chapter). She plays a small part in this fic but one that I feel is necessary in addressing House’s behavior. Her presence will not be gratuitous, and the tone of those scenes will be different than those involving her in season 7 and, from what I’m told, season 8. Still I’m including this warning, because I know she’s a controversial character, and I don’t want anyone to be taken by surprise.
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)
Disclaimer: The show is not mine.
All considered, there were less incomplete files than she thought there would be. Four boxes in total, she had taken one with her and left the other three with the cleaning staff to drop off in her office. It would take her weeks, probably months, to get through it all, especially if there were complications, and there were sure to be several. But she didn’t second-guess her choice to handle the paperwork as best she could herself. Ironically, doing House’s job would stop her from thinking about him. At least, that was the plan.
When she returned to the hotel room, it was late. The room looked different now; thanks to all of the toys and stuffed animals Cuddy had pulled out of storage to mollify Rachel, the penthouse no longer looked like an expensive suit. But if it gave Rachel some comfort, Cuddy was willing to have a giant stuffed duck face down on the white sofa and a giraffe and rocking chair crammed in the corner by the balcony. Of course, Cuddy didn’t know if it had helped. She hadn’t talked to Marina after handing Rachel off, and there was the possibility that Rachel was no happier than she had been before. And now, Cuddy didn’t have the opportunity to see how her daughter was doing. Both to her disappointment and relief, Rachel was already asleep.
“Thank you,” Cuddy told Marina, when she finished reliving how Rachel had spent her afternoon. Rachel had calmed down apparently; a trip to the supermarket where she’d pet someone’s golden retriever puppy had cheered her up. Cuddy hoped Rachel would stay that way.
She wanted to say more to Marina then - thank you for not asking questions, for being able to come in last minute, for giving Rachel the good time she wouldn’t have had with her own mother. But all of those things would have made the conversation feel seedy, so Cuddy didn’t elaborate any further. Within moments, Marina quietly slipped out of the hotel room.
As soon as she was gone, Cuddy glanced at the box of paperwork she’d placed at her feet the second she’d come into the room. Tired, she wasn’t exactly in the mood to start going through the files House had left behind. But not tired enough, she knew what would happen if she tried to go to sleep now. She would lie in bed and think only of him. For the same reason, she wasn’t going to watch television or try to read a book. A distraction would only be effective if it made her feel as though she were moving forward.
Settling into bed with a mug of tea in one hand and a file in the other, she knew this didn’t look like progress. He was in jail, but she was still doing his work after all. That was a fact she couldn’t fully reconcile much less deny. But this wasn’t about protecting him. She was facilitating Chase’s success as best she could - nothing more.
That motivation couldn’t explain, however, why she felt ill at ease opening the folder up. That could only be because of him. It was the fear that behind the exterior of the file, something of his would appear, a signature, some writing, something that would remind her that he had once been more than the person who had ruined her home. It had nothing to do with Chase.
Of course, her concern was pointless. The second she glanced at the medical forms, all she saw was what looked to be Foreman’s handwriting. Aside from a few places where House had been noted as the attending physician, there was no sign of him in the pages. Why that might have even been slightly surprising she didn’t know. He had never cared about filling out the forms, documenting his work. Why would that change? She supposed it was because she now expected only the worst, the most devious behavior from him. Before it would have never seemed possible: that he would do his job properly so that in the event of something awful, she would be forced to confront a reminder of his existence. Now though, while Cuddy recognized how insane it sounded, she didn’t doubt the depths to which he would stoop. He had no limits. After all this time, House was nothing more than a bottomless pit of need and selfishness, callousness and horror. What everyone else had told her about him had been the truth. She’d seen usefulness, goodness where there had been none. Whatever she’d thought she’d seen had been nothing more than her own desires mirrored in him. And knowing that, she wasn’t sure if she could ever trust herself again.
Or anyone else.
Sighing, she recognized in that moment the faultiness of her plan. If she’d hoped for a distraction, this wasn’t it. He still consumed her thoughts, and she could feel herself being pulled further and further into the darkness that he had left behind. Just as she didn’t want Rachel to be affected, Cuddy wanted the same for herself. As much as her impulse was to cut herself off from everyone, she knew - or tried to tell herself she knew this anyway - that that wasn’t going to help. Being alone was what she desired right now, but loneliness wasn’t going to make her feel better. If she sacrificed every relationship she had or might have because of this, House would have precisely what he wanted.
He would have molded her into the same miserable and unloved and unloving person he had become.
Pushing the file and tea aside, she reached for her phone. It was late but not so much so that the people she needed to talk to were asleep. She had thought so anyway, but Wilson sounded groggy the second he answered her call.
“Hello?”
“Did I wake you?” Her voice sounded not entirely her own. She hadn’t spoken much to Wilson much after the crash. Out of instinct, she’d tried to help him once she’d realized he was hurt. But they hadn’t talked about it, not really. He’d gone to the hospital, and she had… focused on her own pain. Feeling as though she’d been incredibly selfish, she asked the question meekly. If he blamed her, the last thing she wanted was to upset him.
“Uhhh…” he said slowly, perhaps not wanting to tell her the truth. “I think you caught me just as I was about to.”
She frowned. “I’m sorry. I can -”
“That would be pointless, given that I’m awake.” He could have sounded angry easily. Beginning to feel just as insensitive as House, she would understand if Wilson hated her - and not just for this. Instead he seemed as friendly as he had always been.
That wasn’t to say that the conversation didn’t feel awkward. It did, at least to her. They had been friends for a long time, but what had held that friendship together? House. They had united under one goal, their discussions often about him, how to handle his latest bout of insanity. And while they had become closer with time, having lunch once a week even, House was the foundation of their relationship. Without him, it was difficult to tell what their friendship would be like. She didn’t assume things would be the same. How could anything be the same?
While trying to keep that thought in mind, she cautiously asked him, “How are you feeling?”
“Doing better. Wrist’s broken - I don’t think we talked since -”
“No,” she interrupted. “I meant to call you, but things have been -”
“You don’t have to explain.”
“No, I should. I’m sorry I -”
“Cuddy,” he said firmly. “You don’t have to apologize.” He must have sensed that she didn’t believe that, because he added, “I have a simple fracture, minimal pain. If you’re wondering, my greatest complication is figuring out how to pull up my pants with one hand.”
She laughed a little, and it felt good, odd.
“I’m fine. Pride’s a little hurt, but I’m okay. I’m more worried about you,” Wilson told her gently. It was his way of asking her how she was without trying to sound as though he were prying.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” she said with a sigh. “Things are so screwed up.”
Then he was the one speaking out of a need to apologize. “If I’d known he was going to react like that, I would have never let him near your house.”
She wanted to laugh at the sentiment. If they had known House would become a monster, so much would be different.
Looking back, she could see the signs. He had shown his true self over the years. She’d ignored it, deluded herself into thinking that he was having a bad day. Now she couldn’t believe he’d ever managed to convince her that he was a human being.
She didn’t tell Wilson any of that. All she said to him was, “I know.”
“At least he was arrested, right?”
If he were trying to sound pleased by that fact, he didn’t exactly succeed. And if she were supposed to feel relieved by it, she failed just as much as he did. “We should talk about that,” she said eventually.
“I thought we were talking.”
“I mean in person.”
There was a long pause before he asked, “You’re not dropping the charges, are you?”
“No.”
“… Okay. Want me to come over now - where are you exactly?”
She named the hotel but rejected his suggestion of coming over tonight. “It’s late. I think I’m still on Fiji time, so -”
“You were in Fiji?” She didn’t get a chance to answer, because Wilson was already realizing what that meant. “House was arrested on a plane that came from - did he follow you to -”
“No. No, I don’t know. Maybe. Rachel found him, and -”
“You talked to him?” Wilson was shocked.
She wanted to say more specifically that they’d sat next to each other on the plane ride back. But that would only invite more questions. And while she’d been willing to call to make sure their friendship was okay, now that she knew it was, she didn’t have it in her to go over what exactly had happened the last few days.
“Can we talk about this tomorrow?”
She couldn’t see his disappointment, but she could sense it. “Yeah. Okay. If that’s what you want.”
“I’ll put Rachel down early, and then you can come over.” As if she’d heard her name, Rachel appeared in the doorway at that moment. Cuddy, instantly seeing her, motioned for her to come close.
“All right. How about I bring some wine?”
“That’d be great. But now I have to go. Someone,” she said as she pulled Rachel up onto the bed. “Woke up.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Night, Wilson.” The second she hung up the phone, she turned her attention to Rachel. “Why are you awake?” she asked quietly.
Rachel tiredly rubbed her eyes and buried her face into Cuddy’s chest. Mumbling she said, “I wanna go home.”
Cuddy didn’t say anything right away. As hard as it was to hear that Rachel wanted to be in her home, Cuddy was relieved in a way. Up to this point, Rachel had mainly relied on screaming and crying. This was the first time she started off with vocalizing what was wrong. That didn’t make anything better; Rachel was still upset and would continue to be until Cuddy did something. But since Rachel had found the words to express what was wrong, Cuddy didn’t want to undermine the importance of that by instantly soothing her daughter.
Quietly, she set her phone on the nightstand. Distractions aside, she finally said to Rachel, “I know you do. I miss it too.”
Rachel looked up at her almost hopefully. “Go home?”
“I know you want to,” Cuddy said compassionately. “But that’s not our home anymore. We’re going to have a new home.”
Rachel clearly didn’t understand that. Her lower lip trembled, as she confessed, “I don’t like it here.”
“This isn’t where we’re going to live, honey. This is only for a little bit. We’re just staying here until we can move into our new home.”
The point, again, was lost on Rachel. Time itself was something she didn’t have a strong grasp of. She could understand “wait” when Cuddy was making her breakfast or having a hard time puncturing a juice box with a straw. Rachel knew her schedule by virtue of the fact that it was her schedule. But anything beyond the normal was confusing to her. Staying in the hotel for “a little bit” wasn’t something she could comprehend. That something might exist after this didn’t dawn on her.
The fact that all of this was sudden and unplanned only made it worse. If Rachel had known this was coming, maybe it would have been easier. If they hadn’t gone to Fiji, if she hadn’t seen House, if Cuddy had had a house lined up to move into… this wouldn’t be nearly as hard as it was proving to be. All of those things had happened though.
The only thing she could do now was try to make the rest of this transition as easy as possible. Or if not easy, then it had to be quick, so that Rachel wasn’t in a prolonged period of adjustment. Even though it didn’t make sense financially to buy a house in urgency, Cuddy would rather pay more than get a good bargain and watch Rachel suffer.
“I know this is hard,” Cuddy said, understanding that the words weren’t going to help. “But we’ll be in our new home soon, and it’ll be okay. You’ll have a new room and… a big backyard….”
The palpable need for the words to be convincing made them less so.
Cuddy tried again. “How about we go sit in your chair, okay? Would you like that?” Predictably the answer was a yes that came in the form of a nod. “All right. Let Mommy grab a blankie to keep you warm. Stay here,” she ordered softly as she climbed out of bed.
She headed to the bathroom to get the fluffy white bathrobe that hung behind the door. It was probably cleaner than the decorative throw in the penthouse and certainly softer. But she’d no sooner grabbed it than tiny arms suddenly wrapped around her legs. Rachel had always liked to stick close to her, so it wasn’t too surprising that she’d followed Cuddy into the bathroom. And yet Rachel was clinging to her, as though she were afraid her mother was going to disappear completely if she let go.
Need roiled from her. Not even when Rachel had been a plump little baby, pink from crying, had she been this desperate. The feeling wasn’t unexpected, given her behavior since seeing House on the plane. But the ferocity of the emotion took Cuddy by surprise. Of all the ramifications for House’s behavior, the way it was affecting Rachel wasn’t one she’d expected. Cuddy had known her daughter liked him. She knew that she missed her friend. She didn’t know this would happen.
Cuddy tried her best to squat down with Rachel’s arms wrapped around her. “Come here. Let’s get you bundled up.”
“Like a baby.”
She smiled. “Uh huh. My little baby.” She swaddled Rachel in the bathrobe like it was a blanket, like Rachel was still the tiny infant Cuddy had once brought home. When Rachel was snug in the robe, Cuddy picked her up. After grunting with effort, she said, “You’re getting so big. Let’s go sit in your rocking chair.”
When they’d finally settled into the chair in the living room, it almost felt normal. Rachel slowly fell asleep in her arms, as she had many times before. The lights of the city and the moon filtered in through the balcony, which cast the room in peaceful shadows. Everything from the familiar cushions beneath her to her daughter’s warmth should have relaxed Cuddy just as effectively as it had Rachel.
Instead, the act soured Cuddy’s mood. The last time she’d placed Rachel in her bathrobe and held her like this, House had been there. Rachel had contracted some sort of stomach virus from the park, and she’d thrown up on the blanket that hung on the back of the rocking chair. Taking off her bathrobe, Cuddy had preferred to use that than waste time fetching a new throw. Unlike tonight, Rachel had taken her time falling asleep. Getting sick had made her upset and uncomfortable, and she’d spent a good half hour wriggling and complaining.
And through it all, House had been there.
He’d woken up at some point and joined them, taking up on the little couch in the nursery. Cuddy had told him repeatedly to go back to bed, as there had been nothing he could do to help. But, in a moment of kindness, perhaps knowing that she would be grateful later, he had stayed by her side. He’d waited until Rachel had fallen asleep, and then he’d helped unravel the robe from around her tiny body. Without being asked, he had transformed himself into someone Cuddy could depend on. He had become her partner.
She had no one now.
It was a fact that stayed with her throughout the next day. She was alone. Employees wanted her to sign off on procedures, hire new staff members, call other hospitals to personally request sealed medical records - they wanted her help; they did not want to offer her their own.
What should have been a simple phone call to her mother yielded similar results. Cuddy had only planned to spend five minutes of her lunch checking in with her mother, but the second Arlene had answered the phone, it was clear this wasn’t going to end quickly.
“Hi, Mom. I wanted to -”
“Have you talked to your sister?” There was nothing conversational about it. Her direct tone always made it difficult to tell when she was irritated, but this time, her displeasure was obvious.
Fighting the urge to hang up the phone, Cuddy explained, “I planned on calling her after talking to you. I haven’t had a chance to -”
“Then I would find one” was her tart reply.
“Has something -”
“You’re too smart to be this ignorant, Lisa. She’s angry.”
“With me.” She was dumbfounded by the concept. “Because I asked House to drive his car through my home and nearly kill us all, or am I missing something?”
“Just call her.” But her mother was quick to change tactics at that moment, perhaps sensing that being this direct wasn’t going to work. “To be honest, it might be my fault. She’s upset that you left the country after all this… business.”
Cuddy scoffed. “Might be your fault? Mom, you were the one who -”
“I am aware of that - and before you bite my head off, I did tell her that it was my suggestion that made you leave,” she said quickly. “But in the last week, your sister has become… emotional. I can only comfort her so much before the tediousness takes its toll on me, and my fear is that when she knows what I know, she will be unwilling to talk to you.”
Cuddy didn’t understand. Tongue lightly touching the soft flesh of her cheek, she tried to figure out what her mother meant. But she couldn’t. “What do you mean, when she knows what -”
“The detective who arrested Julia called to tell her that House had been arrested at the airport. He’d been on a plane coming from Australia. Now I don’t expect Julia to know that to get to Fiji one has to fly through the country, but I know, which is why I am pretty sure that you spent time with -”
“You think I invited -”
“No. Terrible as your taste in men remains, it has never given me any reason to suspect that you’ve sacrificed your mind to your libido.”
“Thanks,” Cuddy said sarcastically.
“Just smooth it over with her. You can be diplomatic, I’m sure.”
“Fine. I’ll take care of it.”
It didn’t matter what they talked about after that. Even as Cuddy recalled to her mother what had happened in Fiji, her mind stayed on this developing issue with her sister.
She didn’t doubt that her mother was right, that there was a problem. Rationally Cuddy could understand why Julia had apparently taken offense. This accident had happened, and then Cuddy had gone on vacation. For someone who could have died or witnessed her husband or sister die, that was too much for her.
However, Cuddy had a hard time mustering the sympathy necessary to make things right. Julia had met House, but she hadn’t loved him. She had faced the possibility of tragedy, but she wasn’t living through one. She knew the fear House had caused. She couldn’t possibly understand what it was like to have that terror committed by the last person to come inside her.
The last person to say, “I love you” to her and mean it.
Julia couldn’t begin to comprehend that.
And Cuddy didn’t know how to explain that to her sister, so she wouldn’t. She would apologize. She would give her sister what she needed to hear, knowing full well that Julia would never be able to return the comfort. It was what had to be done to quell this issue.
But it wouldn’t be done today - though that wasn’t by choice. When Cuddy tried to call her, Julia didn’t answer her phone. Then again, maybe it was by choice, because Cuddy knew she was being extremely quick to give up when she hung up and didn’t try to call back after the first attempt. As important as it was to make things better, she didn’t feel any urgency.
If anything, she felt incredible reluctance to do anything. Problem solving was a skill she had in spades, but this was one time she had no desire to fix things. Admittedly it was beyond childish. She knew how her behavior could be perceived, understood how it sounded when she asked herself if it was truly that wrong to have someone - anyone - care about how she was doing.
There was nothing mature about it. As much as she would like to say that she could move forward with aplomb, this was proof that she couldn’t. She wasn’t going to. All she wanted was to be free from House’s actions, for her sanity, for Rachel’s well being. But it seemed like there was no escaping it. Every relationship seemed tainted by what he’d done. Everywhere Cuddy turned, there was another reminder, another complication. Her world seemed to be closing in on her, suffocating her with condemnation for having dared to love a man as screwed up as House. And there was nothing particularly graceful about just wanting it to end, but she didn’t care about that.
She just wanted… freedom, she thought with frustration. With dozens of strangers and even more employees right outside her office doors however, she knew she wouldn’t get it here.
As if to shield herself from the people surrounding her, she turned her chair to face the window behind her desk. She looked out at the scenery unseeing. Whatever salvation she was hoping the familiar sight would provide her never appeared. But why would it, she asked herself bitterly.
Sighing, she turned back around. She scooted herself closer to her desk; prepared to get back to work, she looked to her computer screen… and immediately reconsidered what she was doing. She couldn’t concentrate, didn’t want to. And then it didn’t matter how beneficial it would be for her to complete the task at hand. She simply couldn’t.
Reaching for her phone, she quickly dialed Wilson’s number. “Are you busy?” she asked in a rush the second he answered.
“No,” he answered slowly, curious. “Are you okay?”
“Can I come over?”
“Sure. I’ve just been catching up on -”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” Without saying goodbye, she hung up the phone.
Gathering her things, Cuddy didn’t care about the curt ending. Nor did she feel bad when she left, leaving Regina the unenviable task of canceling all of the meetings Cuddy had asked her to schedule for today. Julia’s anger left Cuddy overwhelmed, and she couldn’t pretend like that wasn’t happening. If she tried, she knew the work wouldn’t be good, and Cuddy had no intention of becoming incompetent.
By the time she reached Wilson’s doorstep, she realized that she would be seen as inept either way. She wasn’t doing her job today. She hadn’t been doing her job by keeping House employed for as long as she had. She was an idiot, and when the board met with her next week, it wouldn’t be about firing House as much as it would about firing her.
The thought making her feel sick, it was one she couldn’t suppress when Wilson answered the door. He knew something was wrong the second he saw her. “What’s wrong?”
“What isn’t wrong?” She sounded more frustrated and irritated than sad, which she liked. Tears seemed inevitable, but crying was the last thing she wanted to do, especially in front of him.
Despite appearances though, he must have sensed how upset she really was. Not that she was ever capable of hiding the way this made her feel well, but he was quick to be comforting.
“Why don’t you come inside and sit down?” He stepped out of the doorframe and led her inside with a gentle hand on her back. In the past he wouldn't have been so overt with his need to care for her. Leading her like a child to his couch would have never happened before. But then, she would have never accepted that type of sympathy from him. Now she drank in the kindness he was offering, allowing him to guide her onto the sofa cushions, appreciating the small distance between them when he sat down next to her.
His hand on her knee, he asked, "What happened?"
She told him without hesitation: going to Fiji, seeing House, watching him be arrested on the plane, dealing with Rachel's behavior - all of it. He sat patiently throughout, listening but refraining from asking too many questions or offering a lot of input. She was grateful for that. It was exhausting to relive. Every time she moved on to the next act of horror, she thought to herself how unbelievable it really was. It was unnatural to go through so much in such a short period of time. It should have been anyway. But it wasn't.
"I don't know what to do," she confessed when she'd finished catching him up on everything.
"Rachel's young. She'll get over it." It could have been blunt, but his voice never allowed the words to approach forceful. "She's a little girl who doesn't understand what's going on. Of course, she's upset. But kids that age are adaptable. Once you're out of the hotel and she has a chance to settle into a new routine, she'll be all right."
Cuddy wasn't sure about that. She wanted to believe that that would be the case but....
"She's feeding off of you," he pointed out lightly. "She's upset because she knows you are."
There was no point in disagreeing with Wilson. On that count, he was probably right. Rachel had been okay with Marina yesterday, and without any phone calls today, Cuddy could only believe that the same was true now. Rachel was fine. When away from her mother, she wasn’t crying.
“I guess,” she said after a moment. “That doesn’t exactly make me feel better.”
“I didn’t think it would,” he said with a small smile. “But at least it means if you take better care of yourself, she’ll be happier.” He knew what her criticism would be, that he was making it sound easy, and added immediately, the sarcasm obvious, “So get over it, Cuddy.”
She laughed. “You’re right. Why didn’t I think of that?”
The joke couldn’t continue. As amusing as it was, they both knew that getting over House was anything but simple. And to laugh about that fact was partly enjoyable but mostly depressing in the end.
“We’ll be okay,” Wilson said after a long silence.
She wanted to believe that. She wasn’t sure she did. “Will we?”
His head came closer to hers, so that she could see the conviction in his eyes plainly. “House needed us. We didn’t need him.”
Her voice was low. “I wished it felt like that.” She didn’t like saying it out loud, didn’t like that it was true.
“I know, but you know I’m right. You’re intelligent, funny, beautiful, kind - and House is what? The ass who took advantage of that.”
It couldn’t be described as a compliment. Wilson’s delivery was too flat for the words to be intended as flattery. But that in a way made it even nicer. He wasn’t saying those things for the sole purpose of making her feel better; he was saying them, because in his mind, they were basic facts.
She turned her head away so that she could smile widely without him seeing. His act of kindness was deeply appreciated, especially after the week she’d had. But she was cautious to let him see the feeling cross her face. An audience would confirm that she was taking pleasure in his comments. And normally that wouldn’t be a problem, but when happiness was as sparse as it had been lately, she didn’t feel like sharing the moment with anyone else - not even the source of that joy.
Knowing that he would want something from her, she eventually turned back to thank him.
His mouth met hers instead.
She didn’t get it at first. It took her several long seconds to understand what was going on. The improbability of Wilson kissing her made realization slow to come. But when she did recognize what he was doing, she didn’t pull away. She started kissing him back.
It wasn’t that she enjoyed the kiss. At that point she didn’t. But with his lips against hers, she was curious enough to see if her feelings would change. After all, she could do worse than Wilson, one of the few people she knew she could trust and probably the only person who could understand what House’s actions meant. The kiss didn’t initially strike her as something she wanted, but maybe if she reciprocated, her feelings would change.
They didn’t.
Even as she kissed back, her mouth twisted into a grimace. And she could feel the repulsion being reciprocated, because his lips had stopped moving.
Abruptly they pulled apart.
“No,” he said loudly, though not really to her. “No, that was not a -”
“Good idea. Agreed.” She emphatically nodded her head.
“I thought if we….” His finger gestured between them, which only called attention to how close they were. Quickly they were sliding to opposite ends of the couch.
“It would make sense,” she offered. “We’re friends.”
“But not like that. Not at all.” The way he spoke, the idea was clearly horrifying to him. He must have appreciated how that might come off, because he clarified for her, “Not that you’re a bad kisser.”
“I know I’m not.”
“It’s just….”
“Not right.”
“Exactly.”
It could have been a blow to their friendship, even to their self-esteem. The lack of chemistry was blatant, and the way they were both making that known could have been upsetting easily. Given how fragile things were now, thanks to House, this mistake could have quickly hurt them both. But it didn’t. Somehow kissing Wilson (and realizing how stupid it was to ever think there could be something there) had become the highlight of her life after House.
That that might be true was ridiculous, but she didn’t care too much about that. Between the mistake itself and the face Wilson was now making, their behavior seemed amusingly screwed up.
This time when she started laughing, he joined in, and they didn’t stop until they were both breathless.
***********************************************
Over the next two days, when reality became too much for her, she chose to remember the kiss to renew her spirits. It was bizarre that something so wrong could provide any sort of joy. But of all the things to go wrong, a make out session with Wilson was silly when compared to everything else. And if it helped her, she wasn’t going to second guess why that was. She would just cling to it for what little comfort the moment could provide.
Three days after that disaster though, it stopped being effective. Because on this particular morning, when Cuddy came into work, she was met by someone she never expected to see.
Standing outside of her office was House’s wife.
Then it didn’t matter how Cuddy had chosen to cope. Nothing was going to make her feel good about this. As she took a step towards Dominika, Cuddy couldn’t help but wonder - again - just how much she was expected to take before it would end.
Before House would stop hurting her.
Continue on to the rest of the fic
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. Also please note that, while I plan on making this House/Cuddy, it's not going to be a quick thing. Given what House has done, it will take a while to work through all of those issues. If you're looking for an easy happy ending, this isn't the piece for you. Some chapters are split for length. These next few chapters were written for harvesttime88 for the help_lisa auction.
Warning: This fic contains sex. This chapter marks the beginning of a few appearances from Dominika (her name is only mentioned at the end in this chapter). She plays a small part in this fic but one that I feel is necessary in addressing House’s behavior. Her presence will not be gratuitous, and the tone of those scenes will be different than those involving her in season 7 and, from what I’m told, season 8. Still I’m including this warning, because I know she’s a controversial character, and I don’t want anyone to be taken by surprise.
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)
Disclaimer: The show is not mine.
All considered, there were less incomplete files than she thought there would be. Four boxes in total, she had taken one with her and left the other three with the cleaning staff to drop off in her office. It would take her weeks, probably months, to get through it all, especially if there were complications, and there were sure to be several. But she didn’t second-guess her choice to handle the paperwork as best she could herself. Ironically, doing House’s job would stop her from thinking about him. At least, that was the plan.
When she returned to the hotel room, it was late. The room looked different now; thanks to all of the toys and stuffed animals Cuddy had pulled out of storage to mollify Rachel, the penthouse no longer looked like an expensive suit. But if it gave Rachel some comfort, Cuddy was willing to have a giant stuffed duck face down on the white sofa and a giraffe and rocking chair crammed in the corner by the balcony. Of course, Cuddy didn’t know if it had helped. She hadn’t talked to Marina after handing Rachel off, and there was the possibility that Rachel was no happier than she had been before. And now, Cuddy didn’t have the opportunity to see how her daughter was doing. Both to her disappointment and relief, Rachel was already asleep.
“Thank you,” Cuddy told Marina, when she finished reliving how Rachel had spent her afternoon. Rachel had calmed down apparently; a trip to the supermarket where she’d pet someone’s golden retriever puppy had cheered her up. Cuddy hoped Rachel would stay that way.
She wanted to say more to Marina then - thank you for not asking questions, for being able to come in last minute, for giving Rachel the good time she wouldn’t have had with her own mother. But all of those things would have made the conversation feel seedy, so Cuddy didn’t elaborate any further. Within moments, Marina quietly slipped out of the hotel room.
As soon as she was gone, Cuddy glanced at the box of paperwork she’d placed at her feet the second she’d come into the room. Tired, she wasn’t exactly in the mood to start going through the files House had left behind. But not tired enough, she knew what would happen if she tried to go to sleep now. She would lie in bed and think only of him. For the same reason, she wasn’t going to watch television or try to read a book. A distraction would only be effective if it made her feel as though she were moving forward.
Settling into bed with a mug of tea in one hand and a file in the other, she knew this didn’t look like progress. He was in jail, but she was still doing his work after all. That was a fact she couldn’t fully reconcile much less deny. But this wasn’t about protecting him. She was facilitating Chase’s success as best she could - nothing more.
That motivation couldn’t explain, however, why she felt ill at ease opening the folder up. That could only be because of him. It was the fear that behind the exterior of the file, something of his would appear, a signature, some writing, something that would remind her that he had once been more than the person who had ruined her home. It had nothing to do with Chase.
Of course, her concern was pointless. The second she glanced at the medical forms, all she saw was what looked to be Foreman’s handwriting. Aside from a few places where House had been noted as the attending physician, there was no sign of him in the pages. Why that might have even been slightly surprising she didn’t know. He had never cared about filling out the forms, documenting his work. Why would that change? She supposed it was because she now expected only the worst, the most devious behavior from him. Before it would have never seemed possible: that he would do his job properly so that in the event of something awful, she would be forced to confront a reminder of his existence. Now though, while Cuddy recognized how insane it sounded, she didn’t doubt the depths to which he would stoop. He had no limits. After all this time, House was nothing more than a bottomless pit of need and selfishness, callousness and horror. What everyone else had told her about him had been the truth. She’d seen usefulness, goodness where there had been none. Whatever she’d thought she’d seen had been nothing more than her own desires mirrored in him. And knowing that, she wasn’t sure if she could ever trust herself again.
Or anyone else.
Sighing, she recognized in that moment the faultiness of her plan. If she’d hoped for a distraction, this wasn’t it. He still consumed her thoughts, and she could feel herself being pulled further and further into the darkness that he had left behind. Just as she didn’t want Rachel to be affected, Cuddy wanted the same for herself. As much as her impulse was to cut herself off from everyone, she knew - or tried to tell herself she knew this anyway - that that wasn’t going to help. Being alone was what she desired right now, but loneliness wasn’t going to make her feel better. If she sacrificed every relationship she had or might have because of this, House would have precisely what he wanted.
He would have molded her into the same miserable and unloved and unloving person he had become.
Pushing the file and tea aside, she reached for her phone. It was late but not so much so that the people she needed to talk to were asleep. She had thought so anyway, but Wilson sounded groggy the second he answered her call.
“Hello?”
“Did I wake you?” Her voice sounded not entirely her own. She hadn’t spoken much to Wilson much after the crash. Out of instinct, she’d tried to help him once she’d realized he was hurt. But they hadn’t talked about it, not really. He’d gone to the hospital, and she had… focused on her own pain. Feeling as though she’d been incredibly selfish, she asked the question meekly. If he blamed her, the last thing she wanted was to upset him.
“Uhhh…” he said slowly, perhaps not wanting to tell her the truth. “I think you caught me just as I was about to.”
She frowned. “I’m sorry. I can -”
“That would be pointless, given that I’m awake.” He could have sounded angry easily. Beginning to feel just as insensitive as House, she would understand if Wilson hated her - and not just for this. Instead he seemed as friendly as he had always been.
That wasn’t to say that the conversation didn’t feel awkward. It did, at least to her. They had been friends for a long time, but what had held that friendship together? House. They had united under one goal, their discussions often about him, how to handle his latest bout of insanity. And while they had become closer with time, having lunch once a week even, House was the foundation of their relationship. Without him, it was difficult to tell what their friendship would be like. She didn’t assume things would be the same. How could anything be the same?
While trying to keep that thought in mind, she cautiously asked him, “How are you feeling?”
“Doing better. Wrist’s broken - I don’t think we talked since -”
“No,” she interrupted. “I meant to call you, but things have been -”
“You don’t have to explain.”
“No, I should. I’m sorry I -”
“Cuddy,” he said firmly. “You don’t have to apologize.” He must have sensed that she didn’t believe that, because he added, “I have a simple fracture, minimal pain. If you’re wondering, my greatest complication is figuring out how to pull up my pants with one hand.”
She laughed a little, and it felt good, odd.
“I’m fine. Pride’s a little hurt, but I’m okay. I’m more worried about you,” Wilson told her gently. It was his way of asking her how she was without trying to sound as though he were prying.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” she said with a sigh. “Things are so screwed up.”
Then he was the one speaking out of a need to apologize. “If I’d known he was going to react like that, I would have never let him near your house.”
She wanted to laugh at the sentiment. If they had known House would become a monster, so much would be different.
Looking back, she could see the signs. He had shown his true self over the years. She’d ignored it, deluded herself into thinking that he was having a bad day. Now she couldn’t believe he’d ever managed to convince her that he was a human being.
She didn’t tell Wilson any of that. All she said to him was, “I know.”
“At least he was arrested, right?”
If he were trying to sound pleased by that fact, he didn’t exactly succeed. And if she were supposed to feel relieved by it, she failed just as much as he did. “We should talk about that,” she said eventually.
“I thought we were talking.”
“I mean in person.”
There was a long pause before he asked, “You’re not dropping the charges, are you?”
“No.”
“… Okay. Want me to come over now - where are you exactly?”
She named the hotel but rejected his suggestion of coming over tonight. “It’s late. I think I’m still on Fiji time, so -”
“You were in Fiji?” She didn’t get a chance to answer, because Wilson was already realizing what that meant. “House was arrested on a plane that came from - did he follow you to -”
“No. No, I don’t know. Maybe. Rachel found him, and -”
“You talked to him?” Wilson was shocked.
She wanted to say more specifically that they’d sat next to each other on the plane ride back. But that would only invite more questions. And while she’d been willing to call to make sure their friendship was okay, now that she knew it was, she didn’t have it in her to go over what exactly had happened the last few days.
“Can we talk about this tomorrow?”
She couldn’t see his disappointment, but she could sense it. “Yeah. Okay. If that’s what you want.”
“I’ll put Rachel down early, and then you can come over.” As if she’d heard her name, Rachel appeared in the doorway at that moment. Cuddy, instantly seeing her, motioned for her to come close.
“All right. How about I bring some wine?”
“That’d be great. But now I have to go. Someone,” she said as she pulled Rachel up onto the bed. “Woke up.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Night, Wilson.” The second she hung up the phone, she turned her attention to Rachel. “Why are you awake?” she asked quietly.
Rachel tiredly rubbed her eyes and buried her face into Cuddy’s chest. Mumbling she said, “I wanna go home.”
Cuddy didn’t say anything right away. As hard as it was to hear that Rachel wanted to be in her home, Cuddy was relieved in a way. Up to this point, Rachel had mainly relied on screaming and crying. This was the first time she started off with vocalizing what was wrong. That didn’t make anything better; Rachel was still upset and would continue to be until Cuddy did something. But since Rachel had found the words to express what was wrong, Cuddy didn’t want to undermine the importance of that by instantly soothing her daughter.
Quietly, she set her phone on the nightstand. Distractions aside, she finally said to Rachel, “I know you do. I miss it too.”
Rachel looked up at her almost hopefully. “Go home?”
“I know you want to,” Cuddy said compassionately. “But that’s not our home anymore. We’re going to have a new home.”
Rachel clearly didn’t understand that. Her lower lip trembled, as she confessed, “I don’t like it here.”
“This isn’t where we’re going to live, honey. This is only for a little bit. We’re just staying here until we can move into our new home.”
The point, again, was lost on Rachel. Time itself was something she didn’t have a strong grasp of. She could understand “wait” when Cuddy was making her breakfast or having a hard time puncturing a juice box with a straw. Rachel knew her schedule by virtue of the fact that it was her schedule. But anything beyond the normal was confusing to her. Staying in the hotel for “a little bit” wasn’t something she could comprehend. That something might exist after this didn’t dawn on her.
The fact that all of this was sudden and unplanned only made it worse. If Rachel had known this was coming, maybe it would have been easier. If they hadn’t gone to Fiji, if she hadn’t seen House, if Cuddy had had a house lined up to move into… this wouldn’t be nearly as hard as it was proving to be. All of those things had happened though.
The only thing she could do now was try to make the rest of this transition as easy as possible. Or if not easy, then it had to be quick, so that Rachel wasn’t in a prolonged period of adjustment. Even though it didn’t make sense financially to buy a house in urgency, Cuddy would rather pay more than get a good bargain and watch Rachel suffer.
“I know this is hard,” Cuddy said, understanding that the words weren’t going to help. “But we’ll be in our new home soon, and it’ll be okay. You’ll have a new room and… a big backyard….”
The palpable need for the words to be convincing made them less so.
Cuddy tried again. “How about we go sit in your chair, okay? Would you like that?” Predictably the answer was a yes that came in the form of a nod. “All right. Let Mommy grab a blankie to keep you warm. Stay here,” she ordered softly as she climbed out of bed.
She headed to the bathroom to get the fluffy white bathrobe that hung behind the door. It was probably cleaner than the decorative throw in the penthouse and certainly softer. But she’d no sooner grabbed it than tiny arms suddenly wrapped around her legs. Rachel had always liked to stick close to her, so it wasn’t too surprising that she’d followed Cuddy into the bathroom. And yet Rachel was clinging to her, as though she were afraid her mother was going to disappear completely if she let go.
Need roiled from her. Not even when Rachel had been a plump little baby, pink from crying, had she been this desperate. The feeling wasn’t unexpected, given her behavior since seeing House on the plane. But the ferocity of the emotion took Cuddy by surprise. Of all the ramifications for House’s behavior, the way it was affecting Rachel wasn’t one she’d expected. Cuddy had known her daughter liked him. She knew that she missed her friend. She didn’t know this would happen.
Cuddy tried her best to squat down with Rachel’s arms wrapped around her. “Come here. Let’s get you bundled up.”
“Like a baby.”
She smiled. “Uh huh. My little baby.” She swaddled Rachel in the bathrobe like it was a blanket, like Rachel was still the tiny infant Cuddy had once brought home. When Rachel was snug in the robe, Cuddy picked her up. After grunting with effort, she said, “You’re getting so big. Let’s go sit in your rocking chair.”
When they’d finally settled into the chair in the living room, it almost felt normal. Rachel slowly fell asleep in her arms, as she had many times before. The lights of the city and the moon filtered in through the balcony, which cast the room in peaceful shadows. Everything from the familiar cushions beneath her to her daughter’s warmth should have relaxed Cuddy just as effectively as it had Rachel.
Instead, the act soured Cuddy’s mood. The last time she’d placed Rachel in her bathrobe and held her like this, House had been there. Rachel had contracted some sort of stomach virus from the park, and she’d thrown up on the blanket that hung on the back of the rocking chair. Taking off her bathrobe, Cuddy had preferred to use that than waste time fetching a new throw. Unlike tonight, Rachel had taken her time falling asleep. Getting sick had made her upset and uncomfortable, and she’d spent a good half hour wriggling and complaining.
And through it all, House had been there.
He’d woken up at some point and joined them, taking up on the little couch in the nursery. Cuddy had told him repeatedly to go back to bed, as there had been nothing he could do to help. But, in a moment of kindness, perhaps knowing that she would be grateful later, he had stayed by her side. He’d waited until Rachel had fallen asleep, and then he’d helped unravel the robe from around her tiny body. Without being asked, he had transformed himself into someone Cuddy could depend on. He had become her partner.
She had no one now.
It was a fact that stayed with her throughout the next day. She was alone. Employees wanted her to sign off on procedures, hire new staff members, call other hospitals to personally request sealed medical records - they wanted her help; they did not want to offer her their own.
What should have been a simple phone call to her mother yielded similar results. Cuddy had only planned to spend five minutes of her lunch checking in with her mother, but the second Arlene had answered the phone, it was clear this wasn’t going to end quickly.
“Hi, Mom. I wanted to -”
“Have you talked to your sister?” There was nothing conversational about it. Her direct tone always made it difficult to tell when she was irritated, but this time, her displeasure was obvious.
Fighting the urge to hang up the phone, Cuddy explained, “I planned on calling her after talking to you. I haven’t had a chance to -”
“Then I would find one” was her tart reply.
“Has something -”
“You’re too smart to be this ignorant, Lisa. She’s angry.”
“With me.” She was dumbfounded by the concept. “Because I asked House to drive his car through my home and nearly kill us all, or am I missing something?”
“Just call her.” But her mother was quick to change tactics at that moment, perhaps sensing that being this direct wasn’t going to work. “To be honest, it might be my fault. She’s upset that you left the country after all this… business.”
Cuddy scoffed. “Might be your fault? Mom, you were the one who -”
“I am aware of that - and before you bite my head off, I did tell her that it was my suggestion that made you leave,” she said quickly. “But in the last week, your sister has become… emotional. I can only comfort her so much before the tediousness takes its toll on me, and my fear is that when she knows what I know, she will be unwilling to talk to you.”
Cuddy didn’t understand. Tongue lightly touching the soft flesh of her cheek, she tried to figure out what her mother meant. But she couldn’t. “What do you mean, when she knows what -”
“The detective who arrested Julia called to tell her that House had been arrested at the airport. He’d been on a plane coming from Australia. Now I don’t expect Julia to know that to get to Fiji one has to fly through the country, but I know, which is why I am pretty sure that you spent time with -”
“You think I invited -”
“No. Terrible as your taste in men remains, it has never given me any reason to suspect that you’ve sacrificed your mind to your libido.”
“Thanks,” Cuddy said sarcastically.
“Just smooth it over with her. You can be diplomatic, I’m sure.”
“Fine. I’ll take care of it.”
It didn’t matter what they talked about after that. Even as Cuddy recalled to her mother what had happened in Fiji, her mind stayed on this developing issue with her sister.
She didn’t doubt that her mother was right, that there was a problem. Rationally Cuddy could understand why Julia had apparently taken offense. This accident had happened, and then Cuddy had gone on vacation. For someone who could have died or witnessed her husband or sister die, that was too much for her.
However, Cuddy had a hard time mustering the sympathy necessary to make things right. Julia had met House, but she hadn’t loved him. She had faced the possibility of tragedy, but she wasn’t living through one. She knew the fear House had caused. She couldn’t possibly understand what it was like to have that terror committed by the last person to come inside her.
The last person to say, “I love you” to her and mean it.
Julia couldn’t begin to comprehend that.
And Cuddy didn’t know how to explain that to her sister, so she wouldn’t. She would apologize. She would give her sister what she needed to hear, knowing full well that Julia would never be able to return the comfort. It was what had to be done to quell this issue.
But it wouldn’t be done today - though that wasn’t by choice. When Cuddy tried to call her, Julia didn’t answer her phone. Then again, maybe it was by choice, because Cuddy knew she was being extremely quick to give up when she hung up and didn’t try to call back after the first attempt. As important as it was to make things better, she didn’t feel any urgency.
If anything, she felt incredible reluctance to do anything. Problem solving was a skill she had in spades, but this was one time she had no desire to fix things. Admittedly it was beyond childish. She knew how her behavior could be perceived, understood how it sounded when she asked herself if it was truly that wrong to have someone - anyone - care about how she was doing.
There was nothing mature about it. As much as she would like to say that she could move forward with aplomb, this was proof that she couldn’t. She wasn’t going to. All she wanted was to be free from House’s actions, for her sanity, for Rachel’s well being. But it seemed like there was no escaping it. Every relationship seemed tainted by what he’d done. Everywhere Cuddy turned, there was another reminder, another complication. Her world seemed to be closing in on her, suffocating her with condemnation for having dared to love a man as screwed up as House. And there was nothing particularly graceful about just wanting it to end, but she didn’t care about that.
She just wanted… freedom, she thought with frustration. With dozens of strangers and even more employees right outside her office doors however, she knew she wouldn’t get it here.
As if to shield herself from the people surrounding her, she turned her chair to face the window behind her desk. She looked out at the scenery unseeing. Whatever salvation she was hoping the familiar sight would provide her never appeared. But why would it, she asked herself bitterly.
Sighing, she turned back around. She scooted herself closer to her desk; prepared to get back to work, she looked to her computer screen… and immediately reconsidered what she was doing. She couldn’t concentrate, didn’t want to. And then it didn’t matter how beneficial it would be for her to complete the task at hand. She simply couldn’t.
Reaching for her phone, she quickly dialed Wilson’s number. “Are you busy?” she asked in a rush the second he answered.
“No,” he answered slowly, curious. “Are you okay?”
“Can I come over?”
“Sure. I’ve just been catching up on -”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” Without saying goodbye, she hung up the phone.
Gathering her things, Cuddy didn’t care about the curt ending. Nor did she feel bad when she left, leaving Regina the unenviable task of canceling all of the meetings Cuddy had asked her to schedule for today. Julia’s anger left Cuddy overwhelmed, and she couldn’t pretend like that wasn’t happening. If she tried, she knew the work wouldn’t be good, and Cuddy had no intention of becoming incompetent.
By the time she reached Wilson’s doorstep, she realized that she would be seen as inept either way. She wasn’t doing her job today. She hadn’t been doing her job by keeping House employed for as long as she had. She was an idiot, and when the board met with her next week, it wouldn’t be about firing House as much as it would about firing her.
The thought making her feel sick, it was one she couldn’t suppress when Wilson answered the door. He knew something was wrong the second he saw her. “What’s wrong?”
“What isn’t wrong?” She sounded more frustrated and irritated than sad, which she liked. Tears seemed inevitable, but crying was the last thing she wanted to do, especially in front of him.
Despite appearances though, he must have sensed how upset she really was. Not that she was ever capable of hiding the way this made her feel well, but he was quick to be comforting.
“Why don’t you come inside and sit down?” He stepped out of the doorframe and led her inside with a gentle hand on her back. In the past he wouldn't have been so overt with his need to care for her. Leading her like a child to his couch would have never happened before. But then, she would have never accepted that type of sympathy from him. Now she drank in the kindness he was offering, allowing him to guide her onto the sofa cushions, appreciating the small distance between them when he sat down next to her.
His hand on her knee, he asked, "What happened?"
She told him without hesitation: going to Fiji, seeing House, watching him be arrested on the plane, dealing with Rachel's behavior - all of it. He sat patiently throughout, listening but refraining from asking too many questions or offering a lot of input. She was grateful for that. It was exhausting to relive. Every time she moved on to the next act of horror, she thought to herself how unbelievable it really was. It was unnatural to go through so much in such a short period of time. It should have been anyway. But it wasn't.
"I don't know what to do," she confessed when she'd finished catching him up on everything.
"Rachel's young. She'll get over it." It could have been blunt, but his voice never allowed the words to approach forceful. "She's a little girl who doesn't understand what's going on. Of course, she's upset. But kids that age are adaptable. Once you're out of the hotel and she has a chance to settle into a new routine, she'll be all right."
Cuddy wasn't sure about that. She wanted to believe that that would be the case but....
"She's feeding off of you," he pointed out lightly. "She's upset because she knows you are."
There was no point in disagreeing with Wilson. On that count, he was probably right. Rachel had been okay with Marina yesterday, and without any phone calls today, Cuddy could only believe that the same was true now. Rachel was fine. When away from her mother, she wasn’t crying.
“I guess,” she said after a moment. “That doesn’t exactly make me feel better.”
“I didn’t think it would,” he said with a small smile. “But at least it means if you take better care of yourself, she’ll be happier.” He knew what her criticism would be, that he was making it sound easy, and added immediately, the sarcasm obvious, “So get over it, Cuddy.”
She laughed. “You’re right. Why didn’t I think of that?”
The joke couldn’t continue. As amusing as it was, they both knew that getting over House was anything but simple. And to laugh about that fact was partly enjoyable but mostly depressing in the end.
“We’ll be okay,” Wilson said after a long silence.
She wanted to believe that. She wasn’t sure she did. “Will we?”
His head came closer to hers, so that she could see the conviction in his eyes plainly. “House needed us. We didn’t need him.”
Her voice was low. “I wished it felt like that.” She didn’t like saying it out loud, didn’t like that it was true.
“I know, but you know I’m right. You’re intelligent, funny, beautiful, kind - and House is what? The ass who took advantage of that.”
It couldn’t be described as a compliment. Wilson’s delivery was too flat for the words to be intended as flattery. But that in a way made it even nicer. He wasn’t saying those things for the sole purpose of making her feel better; he was saying them, because in his mind, they were basic facts.
She turned her head away so that she could smile widely without him seeing. His act of kindness was deeply appreciated, especially after the week she’d had. But she was cautious to let him see the feeling cross her face. An audience would confirm that she was taking pleasure in his comments. And normally that wouldn’t be a problem, but when happiness was as sparse as it had been lately, she didn’t feel like sharing the moment with anyone else - not even the source of that joy.
Knowing that he would want something from her, she eventually turned back to thank him.
His mouth met hers instead.
She didn’t get it at first. It took her several long seconds to understand what was going on. The improbability of Wilson kissing her made realization slow to come. But when she did recognize what he was doing, she didn’t pull away. She started kissing him back.
It wasn’t that she enjoyed the kiss. At that point she didn’t. But with his lips against hers, she was curious enough to see if her feelings would change. After all, she could do worse than Wilson, one of the few people she knew she could trust and probably the only person who could understand what House’s actions meant. The kiss didn’t initially strike her as something she wanted, but maybe if she reciprocated, her feelings would change.
They didn’t.
Even as she kissed back, her mouth twisted into a grimace. And she could feel the repulsion being reciprocated, because his lips had stopped moving.
Abruptly they pulled apart.
“No,” he said loudly, though not really to her. “No, that was not a -”
“Good idea. Agreed.” She emphatically nodded her head.
“I thought if we….” His finger gestured between them, which only called attention to how close they were. Quickly they were sliding to opposite ends of the couch.
“It would make sense,” she offered. “We’re friends.”
“But not like that. Not at all.” The way he spoke, the idea was clearly horrifying to him. He must have appreciated how that might come off, because he clarified for her, “Not that you’re a bad kisser.”
“I know I’m not.”
“It’s just….”
“Not right.”
“Exactly.”
It could have been a blow to their friendship, even to their self-esteem. The lack of chemistry was blatant, and the way they were both making that known could have been upsetting easily. Given how fragile things were now, thanks to House, this mistake could have quickly hurt them both. But it didn’t. Somehow kissing Wilson (and realizing how stupid it was to ever think there could be something there) had become the highlight of her life after House.
That that might be true was ridiculous, but she didn’t care too much about that. Between the mistake itself and the face Wilson was now making, their behavior seemed amusingly screwed up.
This time when she started laughing, he joined in, and they didn’t stop until they were both breathless.
***********************************************
Over the next two days, when reality became too much for her, she chose to remember the kiss to renew her spirits. It was bizarre that something so wrong could provide any sort of joy. But of all the things to go wrong, a make out session with Wilson was silly when compared to everything else. And if it helped her, she wasn’t going to second guess why that was. She would just cling to it for what little comfort the moment could provide.
Three days after that disaster though, it stopped being effective. Because on this particular morning, when Cuddy came into work, she was met by someone she never expected to see.
Standing outside of her office was House’s wife.
Then it didn’t matter how Cuddy had chosen to cope. Nothing was going to make her feel good about this. As she took a step towards Dominika, Cuddy couldn’t help but wonder - again - just how much she was expected to take before it would end.
Before House would stop hurting her.
Continue on to the rest of the fic