Gift of Screws, Chapter 19.1
Title: Gift of Screws, Chapter Nineteen, Part One
Author: Duckie Nicks
Rating: NC-17 for sex
Characters: House, Cuddy, Rachel Cuddy
Author's Note: This
piece takes place in the future when Rachel is five; House and Cuddy are in an established relationship.
Warning: This fic also contains sex. If that bothers you, don't read.
Summary: For a price, House agrees to celebrate Purim with Cuddy and Rachel. But although he's getting all the sex he
wants, he's still not sure he'll be able to last the weekend. Established relationship, contains sexual situations.
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9 (Part 1), Chapter 9 (Part 2), Chapter 9 (Part 3), Chapter 9 (Part 4), Chapter 10 (Part 1), Chapter 10 (Part 2), Chapter 10 (Part 3), Chapter 11, Chapter 12 (Part 1), Chapter 12 (Part 2), Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18 (Part 1), Chapter 18 (Part 2)
Disclaimer: I don't own it.
"Essential oils are wrung:
The attar from the rose
Is not expressed by suns alone,
It is the gift of screws." - Emily Dickinson
Leaving House to consider what she’d said, Cuddy headed back into the living room. Part of her wanted nothing more than to stay with him, to keep talking until she’d forced him to see what he was doing wrong. But rationally she understood that things rarely worked out that way. She could explain things calmly and point him in the right direction but after that? Only House could make House do something.
At this point in their relationship, she knew that he would consider what she’d said; she’d earned that much. But he had to be the one deciding to talk to Rachel, and that was all there was to it. Cuddy had done the best she could to make him understand. Now she knew she simply needed to trust that he would eventually do what was right.
And no matter what he decided to do, she also knew that she needed to tend to Rachel. Her apology having gone unaccepted, Rachel was, in all likelihood, confused and upset. Being all of five, she was not familiar with having apologies rejected; she fought with friends, and they made up quickly. She angered an adult? She would say she was sorry, and that too would resolve itself easily.
That hadn’t happened here.
House had given her nothing. For reasons Cuddy could understand, of course; she wanted him to move on, but she understood why he was displeased with Rachel’s apology. And caught in the middle, Cuddy could also see why her daughter would be sad or unsure of what to do next.
Then again, even if Cuddy couldn’t understand both sides, she’d be in charge of making everyone feel better anyway, right? That was how this was going to go: House and Rachel said and did whatever they wanted to one another, and in between apologies and making up, Cuddy had to be the one to manage them both.
That was how it always went.
Inwardly Cuddy wondered what they would do if she refused to help them along. But even as she thought that, she knew she would never find out. She was the reason these two people needed to get along to begin with, and as such, she had a vested interest in making sure that neither was pushed beyond their limits.
Sometimes though that seemed like an impossible burden to shoulder. Especially when the issue between Rachel and House seemed completely avoidable, as it did today, the responsibility suddenly became something Cuddy wanted to relinquish all together. But upon seeing her daughter face down on the crouch and sniffling, she knew that wasn't an option.
Tentatively she approached Rachel. Her footsteps were soft on the floor, but somehow Rachel knew she was coming.
Abruptly rolling over, a stuffed blue monkey pressed against her chest, Rachel called out for her. "Mommy."
Cuddy sat down on the couch, and predictably within seconds, Rachel crawled into her lap. As she got comfortable, Cuddy wordlessly assessed her daughter.
At first, she’d assumed that Rachel had been sniffling because she was upset, crying even. Now though that didn’t seem to be the case. Her cheeks were red, and she looked unhappy, but it didn’t seem like she’d been crying.
And she was quick to reveal why.
“You said he wouldn’t be mad,” Rachel said in a huff. Apparently rather than reflect on her own behavior, she had decided to blame Cuddy for what had happened.
But for her part, Cuddy was willing to take it in stride. Although she knew none of this was her fault, she didn’t feel the need to point that out. Frankly she suspected that Rachel already knew that much. And if she didn’t, then Cuddy was sure now wasn’t the right time to say it.
“Well,” she said calmly, forcing herself to focus on the real issue at hand: getting Rachel and House to move past what they’d said to one another. “Sometimes that happens, baby.”
“That’s stupid,” Rachel muttered into the monkey’s head.
Cuddy shook her head. “No.” Stroking her daughter’s hair, she explained, “He’s just… sad. You said some things that really hurt his feelings, Rachel.”
Rachel immediately replied snottily, “I know that.”
“And you apologized like I asked,” Cuddy conceded. “And he knows you’re sorry,” she said, knowing the words were probably a lie. “But he needs time. You made him very upset, honey, and that takes time to get over.”
The more she spoke, the less of a lie it all felt. No matter what he might claim, she’d been able to see the hurt in his eyes when she’d first dragged Rachel into the kitchen. She’d seen how Rachel’s terribly apology had made him feel. He might have chosen to stay angry for other reasons, but Cuddy was sure that he’d been hurt, that her words to Rachel weren’t a complete lie.
But whether Rachel believed her or not… well, that was impossible to determine. Because at that point, it didn’t even seem like she was listening. As though she hadn’t heard a word Cuddy had said, she asked, “Can we play in the snow?”
Cuddy peered down at her in disapproval. “Did you hear what I just said at all?”
Rachel nodded her head. “But I want to go play in the slow.”
Immediately Cuddy looked for a reason to stay inside. She could understand why her daughter would want to go out, given how she’d largely been inside all weekend. Yet Cuddy couldn’t allow her to be outside. Forget that Rachel had completely ignored everything she’d been saying; the fact that the cold air often triggered Rachel’s asthma was more than enough of a reason for Cuddy to keep her indoors.
She didn’t want to say that though.
Calling attention to Rachel’s physical limitations was not something Cuddy wanted to do. She didn’t want her daughter to feel inadequate or lesser than simply because she’d had the misfortune of having a condition. And she didn’t want Rachel to become consumed with resentment over her own health, not when House’s behavior had already given her enough to think about. But at the same time, Cuddy didn’t think she had many alterative reasons to keep Rachel inside.
In fact, she could only come up with the one off the top of her head. And before she even said it, she knew how Rachel was going to react. Preparing for the outburst that would follow, Cuddy held tightly on to Rachel. Her voice even and relaxed, she said, “No, I think we need to stay inside today. We have too much to do before -”
“Like what?” The tone Rachel was using suggested - no, more like flat out declared that she didn’t think there was anything else to do.
“You have homework to do.”
Strictly speaking "homework" didn't seem like the right term to use. Maybe Cuddy was simply too old to comprehend how much work it really was, but completing a booklet of activities - like listing five things that were green or counting the number of stars colored on a leaf - every month hardly constituted homework in her mind. Then again, given the way Rachel seemed to resent doing it, maybe it did count as homework.
Well, whatever it was, Rachel was intent on resisting the second Cuddy had suggested it. "No, I think we should go outside," she said firmly.
"Rachel, it's the sixteenth. You need to get it done."
"No, I don't."
Cuddy felt like pointing out that of course, it needed to be done. Rachel's school had already sent a letter suggesting that Rachel was too far behind in her class to move on to first grade, and Cuddy wasn't going to let her daughter prove her teachers right out of sheer laziness.
She didn't say that out loud though. Rachel already hated school enough as it was; she didn't need to hear that her own school had already given up hope of her catching up this year. So Cuddy simply told her, "We're not going outside today. We have a party to go tonight, remember? And if we play in the snow now, you're going to be too tired to play with all your friends tonight."
Rachel cuddled her monkey. "Like who?"
"Like Tyler and George," Cuddy said off the top of her head, as she tried to remember the donors who would be there tonight and their children, several of whom went to the same elementary school as Rachel. "Nevaeh and -"
"Then I definitely want to play in the snow," Rachel interrupted.
If it came between building a snowman and playing with stinky Tyler and stupid Neveah, who liked to moo at her whenever they lined up for lunch, then Rachel would rather play in the snow. They weren't her friends, and she didn't want to play with them. They were mean and annoying and dumb, and they didn't like Rachel, but that was okay, Rachel thought, because she didn't like them either!
She liked George, Tyler’s older brother, because George was cute and funny. But he must not have liked her very much, because that one time, when she'd asked him to play house, he'd turned red and run away. She'd settled for "marrying" Tyler and George’s neighbor, Roberto, but he'd gotten her in trouble when she'd called him a moron. She'd tried to tell him that that was what mommies and daddies did when they were fighting with one another, but then he'd pointed out that she had no daddy, so what did she know? And she'd been ready to punch him when she'd seen George playing house with Madison. And from that moment on, Rachel hadn't liked poopy George much at all.
So she definitely didn't care about playing with them.
Mommy didn't understand that though. She looked confused before saying, "I'm sure you want to play with your friends even more."
Rachel shook her head wildly. "No, I don't."
"Well," Cuddy said with a shrug. "We need to get some of your homework done first. If we have time afterwards, we'll do something fun, okay?"
Rachel was clearly unconvinced. Whining she said, "I don't wanna!"
"No, come on," Cuddy said in a firm voice. Carefully she eased Rachel off her lap and slid the stuffed monkey from Rachel's clenched hands.
"No!"
Cuddy didn't listen. As much as Rachel hated doing homework, not doing it was hardly an option. Cuddy had already pulled enough strings to get her daughter into kindergarten; for weeks, Cuddy had talked to the school board, telling them that, while Rachel had just missed the cut off date for starting kindergarten that year, she was, actually, right on target with her peers who were all a few months older. And eventually they'd let Rachel into the class, because they'd seen the same promise Cuddy did. They were obviously second guessing that choice now, which was precisely why Cuddy was going to push her daughter through this.
Inwardly, she told herself that she hadn't been wrong to do what she'd done. Rachel was clearly smart enough to make it through kindergarten. She just didn't want to do the work. No kid did. But just as Arlene had forced Cuddy to sit down and do homework when she'd wanted to have fun, Cuddy would do the same for her daughter.
She would be far nicer than her mother had ever been, of course (not that that was difficult). She would have sooner died than want to be her mother. But in this, Cuddy didn't think it was wrong to take a page from Arlene's book; Rachel needed the encouragement, and she would get it.
Whether she wanted it or not.
From the beginning though, Rachel made it clear that she definitely did not want it.
Cuddy had sat her down at the dining room table. But the second she’d gone to retrieve Rachel’s homework booklet, the little girl had run away as quickly as she’d been able to. Not that it had taken long for Cuddy to find her and drag her back to the table; it hadn’t, but that moment had set the tone for the whole event.
And it was an event.
It shouldn’t have been a big deal to have Rachel write down her address as required by the first activity. But when Rachel had started to turn her Rs into alpacas (as she always tried to), Cuddy had had to stop her.
“But then they’re just boring, stinky letters!”
“That’s what we want,” Cuddy had said, beheading an alpaca with an eraser. “Boring, stinky letters,” she’d muttered under her breath.
From there, things only got worse.
House knew that it had, because no matter where he went in the house, he could hear them fighting. He’d started off in the kitchen but left after the alpaca issue had made the room too noisy for him to concentrate. So he’d headed to his office. But that hadn’t been much better, because then he’d heard them arguing over chickens.
He’d just sat down at his desk when Rachel’s voice had come screeching over everything else. “It’s a chicken!”
And just as quickly as he’d entered the room, he’d gotten up and left. Disappearing further down the hall, he could hear Cuddy explaining, “It is a chicken, but the word starts with an h and ends with an n.”
Shutting the bedroom door behind him, he was relieved he couldn’t hear Rachel’s response. After his less-than-successful conversation with Cuddy in the kitchen, he needed a quiet place to mull over everything he’d been told.
But it only took him a few minutes to realize no amount of thinking was going to help. Really, as he lie on the bed, he couldn’t help but think that contemplation was just making him more confused.
He didn’t know what to do.
That was the honest truth: he had no idea how to proceed.
He wanted Cuddy. That was all he wanted - her. But what did she really want from him?
Well, of course, she wanted him to fix everything. She wanted him to be the one to figure out the parameters of their relationship so she didn’t have to do it herself. Those desires though were so broad, so vaguely defined that it was essentially useless to him when it came to fixing the situation.
The depressing thought weighing heavily on him, he slowly rolled over on the bed. His head resting on her pillow, he hugged it to his body tightly. He would never say she was more trouble than she was worth, but their relationship did seem to cause a lot of problems.
And handling Rachel seemed to be the biggest issue of them all.
He used to think that things would be easier without her. For sure, Cuddy still believed that he thought that. But actually… he didn’t think that anymore. Strange though it was, he had become used to the idea of Rachel being part of his life. There were times where he forgot that; of course there were. Overall though, he had accepted her presence, and he had come to appreciate that Cuddy would have never been truly happy without her. And regardless of what he’d envisioned for himself, he knew that Rachel was a part of his life now.
What he was less sure of was what his role should be in hers. Cuddy tried to make it sound like it was simple, but clearly it wasn’t. He couldn’t be Rachel’s friend; friends didn’t bang your mom. Cuddy didn’t want him to be Rachel’s father. If anything she seemed against that. And she was even less in favor of him standing off to the side and being removed from the situation.
So what exactly did that leave him with? If he wasn’t Rachel’s friend, wasn’t her father, wasn’t some random guy she didn’t have to know, what was he supposed to be?
He had no idea.
But Cuddy had made it more than clear that he needed to figure something out. Perhaps out of frustration with him, she was wiping her hands of all responsibility. She was leaving it to him to find the right way to proceed. Which was probably smart, he conceded silently; making him take care of it meant that she would never have to blame herself when it didn’t go right.
And, House thought darkly, it wouldn’t go right.
It couldn’t.
Cuddy’s boundaries with this thing were ever moving and invisible. Whatever suited her in that moment was what she said she wanted, and it was never easy for House to predict what she wanted at any given moment. Did she want him to involve himself in Rachel’s life? Did she want him to back off? At any time of day, the answer to that changed.
Knowing that, he suddenly felt that maybe it was a good thing that she had taken herself out of the equation. No doubt she would throw a fit when she felt he did something wrong, but perhaps he could work all of that to his advantage.
To get what he wanted.
Cuddy clearly didn’t know what it was she needed from the situation. She was looking to him to convince her of the right path to take. That was why she’d shoved responsibility on to him. And for her part, Rachel was still young enough that she would accept or could be manipulated to accept whatever kind of relationship was chosen for her.
So…
It was up to him to decide.
Which meant he could do whatever he wanted.
He could proceed any way he wished, as long as he was convincing enough to drag both girls with him down that path. And he had no doubt that he could manipulate both of them. He just didn’t know which path it was he should take.
At that thought, House snorted into Cuddy’s pillow. It could never be simple. Here, he could do whatever he felt like; she’d effectively given him free rein, but he didn’t know what he wanted to do.
The only thing he was sure he knew was that he needed to make a decision - and quick. Cuddy passing all of the hard work on to him signaled that she was at the end of her rope. She’d tried to find a solution for them all and failed, and so, helpless, she was now asking him to do it for her. And since this involved her daughter, she would never ask him to get involved unless she felt she had no other choice. Which meant that, if he didn’t figure out a good solution, their relationship was done.
But House tried not to think about that.
Losing Cuddy was literally his worst nightmare, and allowing himself to mentally go down the road would only make him crazed with fear. And right now, what he needed - what they all needed was for him to be as rational about this as possible.
So he forced himself to be as detached as he knew how to be.
Focusing only on the logistics of the matter, he could see almost instantly that remaining detached wasn’t the right way to do things. It had been his modus operandi for years, but that seemed foolish to him now. If the goal was to keep himself in Cuddy’s bed, clearly bonding with the kid would make it harder for Mommy to toss him on the street. And if he hadn’t realized that before -
No, he thought immediately. Of course he’d realized that fact long before now. Truth be told, he’d always recognized that making nice with Rachel could secure his spot in the house. That he hadn’t ever acted on that instinct had nothing to do with some sense of decency and everything to do with his unwavering belief in the obvious: no kid should be forced to be around him.
Yet again, he knew that sticking to that idea was impossible in this case. Avoiding Rachel might have been to her benefit, but it would no longer be to his. Cuddy wasn’t going to let it.
She was essentially letting him choose which direction they took, but not embracing Rachel on some level was not an option in Cuddy’s mind. She would control that much of the decision. She had.
And to even entertain the idea of staying away from Rachel was suicide, House thought.
Even if it were better for her that he did.
And it was better for Rachel that he be uninvolved. Of that he was… completely and undeniably convinced.
Cuddy herself had said it. She’d had to protect Rachel from him. In truth, he couldn’t remember a specific instance where that had happened (other than today, of course); he’d always believed he was bad for Rachel, but in his mind, there was not a single moment where that had been blatantly true.
Which made it that much worse, didn’t it?
He didn’t even know when he was hurting her.
Again, House would never pretend like he was a good person for her to be around. He knew he wasn’t. But all this time, he’d thought he had done a decent job of avoiding harming Rachel. He’d thought that he’d been nice enough, helpful enough. He’d changed diapers and soiled sheets, cooked dinner and watched her on the occasion that Cuddy had had to work late. He’d never let himself emotionally become attached to her, preferring to keep Rachel at arm’s length for both their sakes. But he hadn’t ever thought he’d done something wrong.
Well, all right, this weekend had had some awful moments. However, the weekend not withstanding, he felt that he’d been… good enough when it came to Rachel. He’d kept his distance, but he hadn’t ever thought that he’d been downright cruel or callous towards her.
He’d been wrong though.
Cuddy had said as much. And though it was difficult for him to accept that, he didn’t doubt that she was right. Regardless of his opinion, he trusted her enough to believe that she wasn’t lying - to know that she wasn’t lying. If she were saying that he’d hurt Rachel on occasion, there was only reason for that assertion.
It was true.
Because of that, it was even more difficult for him to act on what he knew he needed to do now.
He needed to form some sort of relationship with Rachel.
That much was obvious to him, the more he thought about it. Staying away wasn’t an option. Being a father figure or a friend was problematic, for obvious reasons, but he needed to take a step in that direction. There was no other choice.
Tracing the lines on his forehead with his thumb, he realized that he didn’t need to decide what he wanted to be. Becoming Rachel’s friend or her… father (even mentally, he couldn’t help but stumble over the word) wasn’t something that would happen over night. It would be a relationship he needed to cultivate, and that would take time - lots of time, given how terrible at relationship building he was. And that meant this wasn’t a decision he needed to make right now. It wasn’t a choice he could make right now. That was momentarily beyond his control.
All he could do now was… take some sort of step in the friendly, fatherly direction.
Of course, putting it that way, he instantly wanted to back off. He was neither prepared nor eager to change things with Rachel. It was easy to say that he needed to attempt a relationship with her, but it was anything but simple to actually make that happen.
Especially for someone as screwed up as him.
Feeling defeated he sighed into Cuddy’s pillow. Rationally he understood that failure wasn’t an option. But a man like him… was bound to fail. Even if he told himself otherwise, even if he could delude himself into thinking he had a chance, he knew what he was, how he was. He was going to hurt her, no matter how much he tried not to do that.
And the truly terrible part about it was that…he was okay with that. He didn’t want to hurt Rachel; he definitely didn’t want to screw things up. But he accepted that he would have to move in that direction. She would inevitably be hurt, but he needed to press on regardless.
And he would.
As much as he’d wanted to keep Rachel out of it, he could no longer continue to do that. Though he’d never wanted to hurt her, he would by allowing himself to get closer to her. Because as wrong as he knew it was, when it came down to choosing between protecting her or getting what he wanted, he was always going to choose himself.
And truth be told, thinking of it like that made it all the more easier to do it. It was him or her, he reminded himself. He could either push ahead and do what needed to be done or lose Cuddy now; that was what he was essentially choosing between: a life with Cuddy or a life without her.
It was clear which one he wanted for himself, and selfishly he didn’t care at that moment about anyone else.
Obviously he wouldn’t go out of his way to harm Rachel. He would do his best, as he thought he always had, to… not completely screw her up.
He wouldn't go out of his way to cause harm. He knew it was inevitable, but at no point would House actually seek out a way to put her in therapy. He would just... do what he had to do.
And if that sounded vague, it was because, for the life of him, he didn't exactly know what to do. He'd bought Rachel the monkey earlier, made her lunch... but did that really count for something? Was that a step he'd unknowingly taken towards being her friend? If it wasn't, what exactly did he need to do to make it count?
Hell if he knew, he thought. He was completely out of his league when it came to Rachel. But clearly, he needed to figure out the answer to those questions, if he didn't want Cuddy to give him the boot.
Without even a moment's hesitation, he reached for his phone. Instinctively he recognized that these were questions he would never be good at answering. He could understand human behavior and comprehend how human nature worked... but in an incredibly cynical, detached way. It had never been his forte to take that knowledge and apply it to building relationships. Using it to get what he wanted? Sure, but he couldn't be Machiavellian with this particular pursuit. Even if some part of his core understood just how manipulative it all really would be, he knew that it, at least, had to seem genuine. His actions had to scream, "I'm doing this, because I want to get to know you" and not "I'm doing this, because I really like fucking your mom." And in House's mind, there was only one person who could help him achieve that.
Wilson.
No one else had perfected the sweet exterior like Wilson had, especially when it came to wooing women. He'd been married more times than Lindsay Lohan had been arrested, and somehow he'd still managed to have a friendly relationship with each of his exes. He'd been caught doing many, many, many awful things with House, but again, Wilson had always walked away from those situations unscathed. Even when all signs pointed to "bastard," Wilson seemed to manage to escape that label each and every time. And right about now, House needed a little of that charisma to wear off on him.
Wilson would, of course, give him all the ideas in the world. Under the pretense of guidance, Wilson would tell him all he needed to hear - which was why this plan was perfect.
But House hadn't even pressed the number that automatically dialed Wilson's cell when inspiration hit.
True, that feeling could have simply been the start of a migraine; Rachel’s scream, “I hate this!” was certainly loud and shrill enough to make House wince. However, it also gave him an idea.
Tossing his phone down on the bed, he could mentally envision the steps he needed to take.
He had to do something nice to or with Rachel to get Cuddy to back off. Rachel had been complaining for the last half hour at least about having to do homework. And she’d been whining even longer than that about going outside and building a snowman. In fact, she’d been bitching about it all week, it seemed. So…
If he distracted Cuddy long enough, asked her to find something for him maybe… he would have an opening to nab Rachel. Cuddy would be busy doing something else, so he could jam the kid into her snowsuit and shove her out the door. Rachel would get to go outside, which would shut her up. She wouldn’t have to do her homework, which would really make her happy and smooth over her obvious irritation over the fact that he hadn’t read to her.
Cuddy would be pissed, no doubt. Precisely the moment she realized she’d been played, her panties would get all in a knot, and he’d have to deal with that. But, quickly shoving aside the mental image of undoing said knot with his teeth, he realized that she would be easily mollified in this case.
After all, she’d been the one to force the issue. So she couldn’t complain that he’d done exactly what she wanted. Oh, she would try; obviously she would try to complain. But arrogantly he felt confident in his ability to shut her up. One word from her, and he would point out that she’d left it to him to fix things, that if she wanted things to have resolved differently, she should have handled it herself. She might try to weasel her way around that point, but she wouldn’t succeed. And he knew she wouldn’t be a problem.
Standing up, House headed for the bedroom door. He didn’t exactly know how he would get Cuddy away from Rachel, but he realized he couldn’t take the time to figure it out. The noises from the dining room indicated both Rachel and Cuddy were beyond frustrated. They were nearing that point where nothing could be learned and they’d just start fighting.
A novice would say that that was a natural way to separate the two from each other, providing a clear path for House to take Rachel out. But in his mind, his plan would be more effective if he were the one to save her from doing work. She would appreciate it more that way, appreciate him more for being the one to take her out of that situation.
So he moved as fast as his leg would allow him. But even as he walked down the hallway, he could hear over his uneven footsteps, “Stop whining, Rachel. We have to do this.”
“I don’t want to.”
He could hear Cuddy’s ragged sigh. And he wasn’t surprised when she said after a moment, her voice much softer, “All right…. I think it’s time for a break.”
“Yay!”
“No,” Cuddy said, quickly cutting off the celebration. “I’m going to go make some tea. You’re going to sit here, and when I get back,” she warned. “You are going to get through the rest of this page. No whining. No complaining.”
House could hear her stalk off towards the kitchen.
At that point, it almost seemed too good to be true. She was leaving without him needing a distraction, without letting Rachel off the hook…. It was everything he could have wanted and then some. A sense of impending doom made his toes and fingers tingle, but he pushed the feeling away, knowing that he would never have a better moment than this.
Slowing his pace down, he walked as carefully as he could the rest of the way. He didn’t want Cuddy to hear him coming. And he must have succeeded, because she didn’t return from the kitchen. Even as he cautiously poked his head into the dining room, he didn’t hear her move or do anything alarming.
Rachel, on the other hand, noticed him immediately. Perhaps sensing an out, she practically jumped out of her seat. Literally, before he’d even had a chance to motion her over, she was scrambling towards him.
“Shh,” House whispered as she moved noisily towards him. “Unless you want Mommy to hear, be quiet.”
She looked up at him in awe, as though hearing the words made her realize how right he was. Without uttering a single thing, she nodded her head.
Clasping her hand in his, he silently pulled her towards the closet in the front hall. Rachel followed obediently, but she clearly had no idea what was going on. Her eyes were trained on him with equal parts curiosity and suspicion. When he opened the closet and grabbed the hot pink snowsuit that had sat there, barely used, since the beginning of winter, curiosity gave way completely to suspicion.
“Put it on,” he told her, handing it out to her.
But she didn’t take it.
“You wanna go outside and play in the snow or not?” he asked in a hushed voice.
She nodded her head. “But -”
She didn’t get to finish the sentence; anything she might have said was silenced by him stuffing her in the suit. And she must have gotten the hint, because she willingly held out each arm for him to stuff into the puffy arms of the suit.
After he zipped her up, he reached into the closet. Grabbing her coat, he handed it to her. “Put this on.”
Rachel quietly took the coat. As she struggled to put it on, he reached back in the closet and grabbed her snow boots. He jammed them on her feet as quickly as he could, which wasn’t very easy, since she was squirming about trying to zip up her jacket.
“I got it,” he told her, pushing her hands away. Truthfully he could understand why she was having trouble. The puffiness of her snowsuit and the thick material of her coat made it hard to get the teeth of her zipper to line up right. And if he’d left the job to her, she probably wouldn’t have had enough strength to do it herself.
Not that she seemed all that grateful for his help. As soon as he finished, she said, “I can do it myself.”
“Well, I just did it for you, so it doesn’t matter,” he replied snottily.
Instantly he regretted his tone. This was supposed to be an attempt to get along with her, he reminded himself. It might have come naturally to be sarcastic or dismissive or... some other negative adjective, but it wasn’t going to help his cause. Even if she deserved it (which he realized, unfortunately, that she didn't), he couldn't respond that way. It wasn't going to get him what he wanted in the end, and he knew that.
Forcing himself to mentally take a step back, he tried to smooth over the moment by telling her, "Let's just get this over with."
"I'm hot," Rachel complained as House tied a scarf around her neck.
Stuffing a hot pink hat shaped like a rabbit on her head, he could appreciate what she was saying. She looked overstuffed, covered from head to toe in winter clothes. Like a Stay Puffed Marshmallow Man who had been doused in pink paint, she seemed incredibly encumbered by layers and down-filled clothing. But he couldn't help that.
Cuddy was bound to be annoyed that he let Rachel out at all. There was no way he was also going to deal with the fallout of not having her properly dressed for the weather. Well, at least for not having her dressed according to Cuddy’s definition of what proper winter attire was, he mentally corrected. Because God only knew that her definition wasn't anywhere near what sane people thought was okay.
But in a way, he was beginning to assume that he couldn’t avoid that part of the fight. If he wanted to get Rachel outside before Cuddy discovered them, he needed to work fast. But at this point, he doubted he could work fast enough to get the kid fully dressed.
As though just thinking that triggered the event itself, he suddenly heard Cuddy. Her footsteps were soft; in his mind, she was carrying two mugs of hot tea in her hands, and she was afraid of spilling. But she was slowly moving back towards the dining room. "Rachel," she said softly, as though expecting her daughter to reply immediately.
It would only be a matter of seconds before Cuddy realized what was wrong. And House knew he needed to get Rachel out the door.
Now.
Grabbing her mittens and her, he pulled her towards the front door.
"Rachel," Cuddy said loudly. She'd clearly just realized her daughter wasn't patiently waiting in her seat for more homework fun.
House wrenched the front door open as two mugs filled with hot tea clanked loudly against the dining room table.
"Rachel, this isn't funny." In his head, he could picture her glancing underneath the table and realizing she wasn't there.
And then there were more footsteps - heading this way.
Panicked, House shoved Rachel out of the front door (he could see her falling in a flash of hot pink against white snow) and tossed the mittens in his hands behind her. She would be able to put them on herself, he thought in the back of his mind.
The footsteps practically behind him, House started to shut the door.
"What are you doing?" Cuddy asked suddenly.
Busted House turned around. Like a deer caught in headlights, he wasn't sure how to respond or what to say. Normally he would have a lie on the tip of his tongue. But it was hard to know what lie to use now, considering he didn't even know how much she'd seen. "I...."
"You're leaving," she said with dismay.
Had she seen Rachel, surely, House thought, she would have mentioned that. Since she hadn't said that, that could only mean that Rachel had managed to escape unseen.
"Yeah," he lied calmly.
Cuddy frowned. "Without your coat?"
He shrugged like it was no big deal. "Going for a drive," he supplied. "I just... want to clear my head."
It seemed like a lie that would make sense, given what had happened earlier. Between Rachel saying she hated him and Cuddy inadvertently accusing him of being like his father (which still stung), it wasn't out of the question that he would want time alone. He had wanted time alone.
But if that seemed understandable to her, she didn't say. If anything, her frown just seemed to deepen, and all she told him was, "Stay here."
He didn't move as she disappeared down the hallway for a moment. But he was tempted to when he saw her stop in front of the closet he'd just rooted through. Surely she saw that it was a mess, that the bright pink objects belonging to Rachel were missing.
Yet... none of that seemed to register with Cuddy. Maybe she simply didn't expect Rachel to try to run outside or for him to help her escape. Maybe Cuddy was so focused on his apparent need to get out that Rachel's didn't register in her mind at all. Whatever the reason, she simply reached for his coat in the opened closet and retrieved it.
Returning to him with it, she said calmly, "You need a coat.”
He didn't take it. "I was just going to drive for -”
"Take it anyway."
He did cautiously and slowly slipped it on.
"Do you have your keys?"
House didn’t, but he wasn’t sure if he should lie. If he did and she caught him, she might become suspicious.
Well… possibly more suspicious.
So he answered with the vague, non-committal “I think so.”
She glanced over at the coffee table by the front door. It was where he usually kept his keys, and since he hadn’t had any plans to go anywhere, they were, of course, right there.
Without saying a word, she reached over and plucked them off the table. When she handed them to him, he lied again. “Have a lot on my mind….”
It was obvious she believed him. Her hand immediately reaching up to cup his cheek, she said quietly, “Maybe you should stay here then. Go lay down and -”
“Listen to you and Rachel -”
“We’ll be quiet.”
“Cause that’s worked out so well so far.”
A saner person wouldn’t have read into that statement. Cuddy, not being entirely sane and knowing him far too well, though did.
Immediately she pulled her hand away from him. “She has to learn this -”
“And forcing her, so that we may all hear how to spell hen -”
“Fine. Just go, House,” she said in frustration.
He was about to when he realized that he couldn’t open the door with Cuddy standing right there. If he did, in all likelihood, she would see Rachel.
Thinking of a distraction, he offered her, “She was heading towards her bedroom a few minutes ago.”
The irritation drained from her face, and he felt a bang of guilt when she said, “Thank you.”
After she’d headed down the hallway, he slipped outside.
Predictably Rachel was standing there, mittens still on the ground. She was scowling. “You pushed me.”
He bent down and picked up the forgotten mittens. “Let’s put these on,” he told her in an even voice. But she didn’t stick out her hands. “Rachel, come on.”
“You pushed me.”
House sighed. This wasn’t what he envisioned happening, not at all. But she clearly wasn’t going to move past it until he apologized. “Look, kid, I didn’t want your mom to catch us. I’m sorry.”
Her reply was instantaneous. “I bit my tongue.” She held out her hands for him anyway.
“Does it still hurt?” he asked as she slipped her fingers into the mittens.
“No.”
He stood up. “Then go play.” Rachel didn’t move, however, so he added, “Before Mommy realizes we’re out here.”
The mere mention of her mother seemed to be enough to get her in the mood to play. Yet she barely took a step before she hesitated.
Stopping in her tracks, she looked back at him. He could practically feel her measured look, her eyes assessing him intently. And it made him uncomfortable - to watch her peering back at him with increasing intensity.
For the life of him, he didn’t know what she wanted or why she seemed so interested in him all of a sudden. So he was surprised when she said sincerely, "I'm sorry I said I hated you."
He was stunned.
Truly, he was shocked; he hadn't expected an apology - certainly not after the first one had gone so horribly. He'd just assumed that she would behave as Cuddy had insinuated: Rachel had had no clue how hurtful her words had been, so any apology he would get would be, at best, half-assed.
But this wasn't.
She meant it.
That was the thought on his mind when she latched onto his leg. Hugging the limb, she was warm even through the thick layer of jeans he was wearing. "I shouldn't have said that," she admitted, her voice muffled, because she'd buried her face into his good thigh.
And he could see [even more] clearly then what his problem with all of this would be. He could do nice things for Rachel, and he could try to get along with her. But emotionally... he would always be inadequate. He would never know what to say in these situations or how to react so that she would understand what he felt.
He’d never been good at that. It might have been easy to point to Cuddy and claim that he’d obviously found some decent way of communicating with her, but he knew better than that. He’d always been ineffectual and bad, and if he’d managed to maintain a relationship with Cuddy, it had everything to do with her ability to understand intuitively what he needed or what he meant.
Rachel didn’t have that. And it was wrong to expect any differently. He knew that much, acknowledged that if he wanted her to understand him, he had to make that happen. He couldn’t depend on anyone else.
But he was awkward in dealing with the moment. Lamely letting his hand rest atop Rachel's head, he patted her crown much like you would a dog. Or in this case, a rabbit, as his palm was pressed between two hot pink ears that stuck straight out of the top of her fleece hat.
"Thanks," he said with equal unease.
He thought that was enough. What else was he supposed to say? Rachel was still hugging his leg like there was something left to be done. If that were true though, he had no idea what that was. He'd accepted the apology... touched her. What else was there?
"Why don't you go play?" he started to say. Fearing that perhaps his tone was too harsh, he choked the words down and started over. "It's okay, Rachel."
She looked up at him finally. He couldn't tell if she was relieved or not. He would have liked to think so, but his own anxiety over their closeness made it hard for him to read the emotions on her face.
"Play," he told her quietly. "Once Mommy knows where you are, she's going to want you to finish your homework."
Rachel knew he was right about that. Mommy had told her to stay in the chair, but Rachel hadn't listened. She didn't want to do homework. She didn't like it - the way Mommy made her write boring Rs or acted like everything was easy when it wasn’t. And when House had brought her outside, Rachel hadn't refused, cause she'd wanted to go outside even though she had homework to do.
She knew it was wrong. She knew it was bad to do something her mother hadn't approved of, and as soon as Mommy found out, Rachel knew she would be in trouble. She'd have to go to timeout and apologize and work in that stupid book. So she knew House was right. She should play now before she couldn't have any fun.
“Okay,” she said in agreement. But she didn’t run off right away. Instead, as she pulled away from him completely, she asked, “Do you know how to make a snowman?”
House glanced around them. Certainly, there was enough snow on the ground to make a legion of snowmen. However, much of that snow had fallen weeks ago and had ample time to melt and refreeze. From what he’d seen, it would be far too icy to make a snowman out of that.
There was more snow falling from the sky. Feeling it hit his face though in large wet flakes, House could tell that just skimming the top layer of snow on the ground wouldn’t work either. It was too wet and wouldn’t hold together well.
“I do,” he answered finally. “But we need snow that’s gonna stick together. This won’t.”
For whatever reason, Rachel didn’t believe him. “I can make it stick,” she said confidently.
His first instinct was to disagree with her, but really, he thought almost immediately, what was the point? Like he was, like her mother was, Rachel was stubborn. She wasn’t going to just listen to him, because he told her that it wouldn’t work. She needed to see that for herself.
“Okay,” he said, capitulating easily. “You’ll need to make a snowball about this big.” He held his hands out in front of him. His fingers curled into big Cs to indicate that she would need a fairly large ball of snow to get started. “Do that, and if it stays together, then we’ll roll it up.”
Rachel squatted down, her arms opening wide. Eagerly she scooped up as much snow as she could off of the porch.
It disintegrated the second she tried to pack it together.
Standing up once more, she looked at House. “I’ll be right back,” she told him. And off she went, searching for the perfect snow.
He didn’t stop her or try to dissuade her from that. If she wanted to spend the rest of her time outside trying to make snowballs, that was her choice. He certainly wasn’t going to intervene.
Then again, if he’d wanted to, he wouldn’t have had much of a choice. Rachel had just started grabbing at snow around one of the bushes when Cuddy finally made an appearance.
From the way the front door was violently wrenched open behind him, House knew he was screwed.
Continue on to the rest of the chapter
Author: Duckie Nicks
Rating: NC-17 for sex
Characters: House, Cuddy, Rachel Cuddy
Author's Note: This
piece takes place in the future when Rachel is five; House and Cuddy are in an established relationship.
Warning: This fic also contains sex. If that bothers you, don't read.
Summary: For a price, House agrees to celebrate Purim with Cuddy and Rachel. But although he's getting all the sex he
wants, he's still not sure he'll be able to last the weekend. Established relationship, contains sexual situations.
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9 (Part 1), Chapter 9 (Part 2), Chapter 9 (Part 3), Chapter 9 (Part 4), Chapter 10 (Part 1), Chapter 10 (Part 2), Chapter 10 (Part 3), Chapter 11, Chapter 12 (Part 1), Chapter 12 (Part 2), Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18 (Part 1), Chapter 18 (Part 2)
Disclaimer: I don't own it.
"Essential oils are wrung:
The attar from the rose
Is not expressed by suns alone,
It is the gift of screws." - Emily Dickinson
Leaving House to consider what she’d said, Cuddy headed back into the living room. Part of her wanted nothing more than to stay with him, to keep talking until she’d forced him to see what he was doing wrong. But rationally she understood that things rarely worked out that way. She could explain things calmly and point him in the right direction but after that? Only House could make House do something.
At this point in their relationship, she knew that he would consider what she’d said; she’d earned that much. But he had to be the one deciding to talk to Rachel, and that was all there was to it. Cuddy had done the best she could to make him understand. Now she knew she simply needed to trust that he would eventually do what was right.
And no matter what he decided to do, she also knew that she needed to tend to Rachel. Her apology having gone unaccepted, Rachel was, in all likelihood, confused and upset. Being all of five, she was not familiar with having apologies rejected; she fought with friends, and they made up quickly. She angered an adult? She would say she was sorry, and that too would resolve itself easily.
That hadn’t happened here.
House had given her nothing. For reasons Cuddy could understand, of course; she wanted him to move on, but she understood why he was displeased with Rachel’s apology. And caught in the middle, Cuddy could also see why her daughter would be sad or unsure of what to do next.
Then again, even if Cuddy couldn’t understand both sides, she’d be in charge of making everyone feel better anyway, right? That was how this was going to go: House and Rachel said and did whatever they wanted to one another, and in between apologies and making up, Cuddy had to be the one to manage them both.
That was how it always went.
Inwardly Cuddy wondered what they would do if she refused to help them along. But even as she thought that, she knew she would never find out. She was the reason these two people needed to get along to begin with, and as such, she had a vested interest in making sure that neither was pushed beyond their limits.
Sometimes though that seemed like an impossible burden to shoulder. Especially when the issue between Rachel and House seemed completely avoidable, as it did today, the responsibility suddenly became something Cuddy wanted to relinquish all together. But upon seeing her daughter face down on the crouch and sniffling, she knew that wasn't an option.
Tentatively she approached Rachel. Her footsteps were soft on the floor, but somehow Rachel knew she was coming.
Abruptly rolling over, a stuffed blue monkey pressed against her chest, Rachel called out for her. "Mommy."
Cuddy sat down on the couch, and predictably within seconds, Rachel crawled into her lap. As she got comfortable, Cuddy wordlessly assessed her daughter.
At first, she’d assumed that Rachel had been sniffling because she was upset, crying even. Now though that didn’t seem to be the case. Her cheeks were red, and she looked unhappy, but it didn’t seem like she’d been crying.
And she was quick to reveal why.
“You said he wouldn’t be mad,” Rachel said in a huff. Apparently rather than reflect on her own behavior, she had decided to blame Cuddy for what had happened.
But for her part, Cuddy was willing to take it in stride. Although she knew none of this was her fault, she didn’t feel the need to point that out. Frankly she suspected that Rachel already knew that much. And if she didn’t, then Cuddy was sure now wasn’t the right time to say it.
“Well,” she said calmly, forcing herself to focus on the real issue at hand: getting Rachel and House to move past what they’d said to one another. “Sometimes that happens, baby.”
“That’s stupid,” Rachel muttered into the monkey’s head.
Cuddy shook her head. “No.” Stroking her daughter’s hair, she explained, “He’s just… sad. You said some things that really hurt his feelings, Rachel.”
Rachel immediately replied snottily, “I know that.”
“And you apologized like I asked,” Cuddy conceded. “And he knows you’re sorry,” she said, knowing the words were probably a lie. “But he needs time. You made him very upset, honey, and that takes time to get over.”
The more she spoke, the less of a lie it all felt. No matter what he might claim, she’d been able to see the hurt in his eyes when she’d first dragged Rachel into the kitchen. She’d seen how Rachel’s terribly apology had made him feel. He might have chosen to stay angry for other reasons, but Cuddy was sure that he’d been hurt, that her words to Rachel weren’t a complete lie.
But whether Rachel believed her or not… well, that was impossible to determine. Because at that point, it didn’t even seem like she was listening. As though she hadn’t heard a word Cuddy had said, she asked, “Can we play in the snow?”
Cuddy peered down at her in disapproval. “Did you hear what I just said at all?”
Rachel nodded her head. “But I want to go play in the slow.”
Immediately Cuddy looked for a reason to stay inside. She could understand why her daughter would want to go out, given how she’d largely been inside all weekend. Yet Cuddy couldn’t allow her to be outside. Forget that Rachel had completely ignored everything she’d been saying; the fact that the cold air often triggered Rachel’s asthma was more than enough of a reason for Cuddy to keep her indoors.
She didn’t want to say that though.
Calling attention to Rachel’s physical limitations was not something Cuddy wanted to do. She didn’t want her daughter to feel inadequate or lesser than simply because she’d had the misfortune of having a condition. And she didn’t want Rachel to become consumed with resentment over her own health, not when House’s behavior had already given her enough to think about. But at the same time, Cuddy didn’t think she had many alterative reasons to keep Rachel inside.
In fact, she could only come up with the one off the top of her head. And before she even said it, she knew how Rachel was going to react. Preparing for the outburst that would follow, Cuddy held tightly on to Rachel. Her voice even and relaxed, she said, “No, I think we need to stay inside today. We have too much to do before -”
“Like what?” The tone Rachel was using suggested - no, more like flat out declared that she didn’t think there was anything else to do.
“You have homework to do.”
Strictly speaking "homework" didn't seem like the right term to use. Maybe Cuddy was simply too old to comprehend how much work it really was, but completing a booklet of activities - like listing five things that were green or counting the number of stars colored on a leaf - every month hardly constituted homework in her mind. Then again, given the way Rachel seemed to resent doing it, maybe it did count as homework.
Well, whatever it was, Rachel was intent on resisting the second Cuddy had suggested it. "No, I think we should go outside," she said firmly.
"Rachel, it's the sixteenth. You need to get it done."
"No, I don't."
Cuddy felt like pointing out that of course, it needed to be done. Rachel's school had already sent a letter suggesting that Rachel was too far behind in her class to move on to first grade, and Cuddy wasn't going to let her daughter prove her teachers right out of sheer laziness.
She didn't say that out loud though. Rachel already hated school enough as it was; she didn't need to hear that her own school had already given up hope of her catching up this year. So Cuddy simply told her, "We're not going outside today. We have a party to go tonight, remember? And if we play in the snow now, you're going to be too tired to play with all your friends tonight."
Rachel cuddled her monkey. "Like who?"
"Like Tyler and George," Cuddy said off the top of her head, as she tried to remember the donors who would be there tonight and their children, several of whom went to the same elementary school as Rachel. "Nevaeh and -"
"Then I definitely want to play in the snow," Rachel interrupted.
If it came between building a snowman and playing with stinky Tyler and stupid Neveah, who liked to moo at her whenever they lined up for lunch, then Rachel would rather play in the snow. They weren't her friends, and she didn't want to play with them. They were mean and annoying and dumb, and they didn't like Rachel, but that was okay, Rachel thought, because she didn't like them either!
She liked George, Tyler’s older brother, because George was cute and funny. But he must not have liked her very much, because that one time, when she'd asked him to play house, he'd turned red and run away. She'd settled for "marrying" Tyler and George’s neighbor, Roberto, but he'd gotten her in trouble when she'd called him a moron. She'd tried to tell him that that was what mommies and daddies did when they were fighting with one another, but then he'd pointed out that she had no daddy, so what did she know? And she'd been ready to punch him when she'd seen George playing house with Madison. And from that moment on, Rachel hadn't liked poopy George much at all.
So she definitely didn't care about playing with them.
Mommy didn't understand that though. She looked confused before saying, "I'm sure you want to play with your friends even more."
Rachel shook her head wildly. "No, I don't."
"Well," Cuddy said with a shrug. "We need to get some of your homework done first. If we have time afterwards, we'll do something fun, okay?"
Rachel was clearly unconvinced. Whining she said, "I don't wanna!"
"No, come on," Cuddy said in a firm voice. Carefully she eased Rachel off her lap and slid the stuffed monkey from Rachel's clenched hands.
"No!"
Cuddy didn't listen. As much as Rachel hated doing homework, not doing it was hardly an option. Cuddy had already pulled enough strings to get her daughter into kindergarten; for weeks, Cuddy had talked to the school board, telling them that, while Rachel had just missed the cut off date for starting kindergarten that year, she was, actually, right on target with her peers who were all a few months older. And eventually they'd let Rachel into the class, because they'd seen the same promise Cuddy did. They were obviously second guessing that choice now, which was precisely why Cuddy was going to push her daughter through this.
Inwardly, she told herself that she hadn't been wrong to do what she'd done. Rachel was clearly smart enough to make it through kindergarten. She just didn't want to do the work. No kid did. But just as Arlene had forced Cuddy to sit down and do homework when she'd wanted to have fun, Cuddy would do the same for her daughter.
She would be far nicer than her mother had ever been, of course (not that that was difficult). She would have sooner died than want to be her mother. But in this, Cuddy didn't think it was wrong to take a page from Arlene's book; Rachel needed the encouragement, and she would get it.
Whether she wanted it or not.
From the beginning though, Rachel made it clear that she definitely did not want it.
Cuddy had sat her down at the dining room table. But the second she’d gone to retrieve Rachel’s homework booklet, the little girl had run away as quickly as she’d been able to. Not that it had taken long for Cuddy to find her and drag her back to the table; it hadn’t, but that moment had set the tone for the whole event.
And it was an event.
It shouldn’t have been a big deal to have Rachel write down her address as required by the first activity. But when Rachel had started to turn her Rs into alpacas (as she always tried to), Cuddy had had to stop her.
“But then they’re just boring, stinky letters!”
“That’s what we want,” Cuddy had said, beheading an alpaca with an eraser. “Boring, stinky letters,” she’d muttered under her breath.
From there, things only got worse.
House knew that it had, because no matter where he went in the house, he could hear them fighting. He’d started off in the kitchen but left after the alpaca issue had made the room too noisy for him to concentrate. So he’d headed to his office. But that hadn’t been much better, because then he’d heard them arguing over chickens.
He’d just sat down at his desk when Rachel’s voice had come screeching over everything else. “It’s a chicken!”
And just as quickly as he’d entered the room, he’d gotten up and left. Disappearing further down the hall, he could hear Cuddy explaining, “It is a chicken, but the word starts with an h and ends with an n.”
Shutting the bedroom door behind him, he was relieved he couldn’t hear Rachel’s response. After his less-than-successful conversation with Cuddy in the kitchen, he needed a quiet place to mull over everything he’d been told.
But it only took him a few minutes to realize no amount of thinking was going to help. Really, as he lie on the bed, he couldn’t help but think that contemplation was just making him more confused.
He didn’t know what to do.
That was the honest truth: he had no idea how to proceed.
He wanted Cuddy. That was all he wanted - her. But what did she really want from him?
Well, of course, she wanted him to fix everything. She wanted him to be the one to figure out the parameters of their relationship so she didn’t have to do it herself. Those desires though were so broad, so vaguely defined that it was essentially useless to him when it came to fixing the situation.
The depressing thought weighing heavily on him, he slowly rolled over on the bed. His head resting on her pillow, he hugged it to his body tightly. He would never say she was more trouble than she was worth, but their relationship did seem to cause a lot of problems.
And handling Rachel seemed to be the biggest issue of them all.
He used to think that things would be easier without her. For sure, Cuddy still believed that he thought that. But actually… he didn’t think that anymore. Strange though it was, he had become used to the idea of Rachel being part of his life. There were times where he forgot that; of course there were. Overall though, he had accepted her presence, and he had come to appreciate that Cuddy would have never been truly happy without her. And regardless of what he’d envisioned for himself, he knew that Rachel was a part of his life now.
What he was less sure of was what his role should be in hers. Cuddy tried to make it sound like it was simple, but clearly it wasn’t. He couldn’t be Rachel’s friend; friends didn’t bang your mom. Cuddy didn’t want him to be Rachel’s father. If anything she seemed against that. And she was even less in favor of him standing off to the side and being removed from the situation.
So what exactly did that leave him with? If he wasn’t Rachel’s friend, wasn’t her father, wasn’t some random guy she didn’t have to know, what was he supposed to be?
He had no idea.
But Cuddy had made it more than clear that he needed to figure something out. Perhaps out of frustration with him, she was wiping her hands of all responsibility. She was leaving it to him to find the right way to proceed. Which was probably smart, he conceded silently; making him take care of it meant that she would never have to blame herself when it didn’t go right.
And, House thought darkly, it wouldn’t go right.
It couldn’t.
Cuddy’s boundaries with this thing were ever moving and invisible. Whatever suited her in that moment was what she said she wanted, and it was never easy for House to predict what she wanted at any given moment. Did she want him to involve himself in Rachel’s life? Did she want him to back off? At any time of day, the answer to that changed.
Knowing that, he suddenly felt that maybe it was a good thing that she had taken herself out of the equation. No doubt she would throw a fit when she felt he did something wrong, but perhaps he could work all of that to his advantage.
To get what he wanted.
Cuddy clearly didn’t know what it was she needed from the situation. She was looking to him to convince her of the right path to take. That was why she’d shoved responsibility on to him. And for her part, Rachel was still young enough that she would accept or could be manipulated to accept whatever kind of relationship was chosen for her.
So…
It was up to him to decide.
Which meant he could do whatever he wanted.
He could proceed any way he wished, as long as he was convincing enough to drag both girls with him down that path. And he had no doubt that he could manipulate both of them. He just didn’t know which path it was he should take.
At that thought, House snorted into Cuddy’s pillow. It could never be simple. Here, he could do whatever he felt like; she’d effectively given him free rein, but he didn’t know what he wanted to do.
The only thing he was sure he knew was that he needed to make a decision - and quick. Cuddy passing all of the hard work on to him signaled that she was at the end of her rope. She’d tried to find a solution for them all and failed, and so, helpless, she was now asking him to do it for her. And since this involved her daughter, she would never ask him to get involved unless she felt she had no other choice. Which meant that, if he didn’t figure out a good solution, their relationship was done.
But House tried not to think about that.
Losing Cuddy was literally his worst nightmare, and allowing himself to mentally go down the road would only make him crazed with fear. And right now, what he needed - what they all needed was for him to be as rational about this as possible.
So he forced himself to be as detached as he knew how to be.
Focusing only on the logistics of the matter, he could see almost instantly that remaining detached wasn’t the right way to do things. It had been his modus operandi for years, but that seemed foolish to him now. If the goal was to keep himself in Cuddy’s bed, clearly bonding with the kid would make it harder for Mommy to toss him on the street. And if he hadn’t realized that before -
No, he thought immediately. Of course he’d realized that fact long before now. Truth be told, he’d always recognized that making nice with Rachel could secure his spot in the house. That he hadn’t ever acted on that instinct had nothing to do with some sense of decency and everything to do with his unwavering belief in the obvious: no kid should be forced to be around him.
Yet again, he knew that sticking to that idea was impossible in this case. Avoiding Rachel might have been to her benefit, but it would no longer be to his. Cuddy wasn’t going to let it.
She was essentially letting him choose which direction they took, but not embracing Rachel on some level was not an option in Cuddy’s mind. She would control that much of the decision. She had.
And to even entertain the idea of staying away from Rachel was suicide, House thought.
Even if it were better for her that he did.
And it was better for Rachel that he be uninvolved. Of that he was… completely and undeniably convinced.
Cuddy herself had said it. She’d had to protect Rachel from him. In truth, he couldn’t remember a specific instance where that had happened (other than today, of course); he’d always believed he was bad for Rachel, but in his mind, there was not a single moment where that had been blatantly true.
Which made it that much worse, didn’t it?
He didn’t even know when he was hurting her.
Again, House would never pretend like he was a good person for her to be around. He knew he wasn’t. But all this time, he’d thought he had done a decent job of avoiding harming Rachel. He’d thought that he’d been nice enough, helpful enough. He’d changed diapers and soiled sheets, cooked dinner and watched her on the occasion that Cuddy had had to work late. He’d never let himself emotionally become attached to her, preferring to keep Rachel at arm’s length for both their sakes. But he hadn’t ever thought he’d done something wrong.
Well, all right, this weekend had had some awful moments. However, the weekend not withstanding, he felt that he’d been… good enough when it came to Rachel. He’d kept his distance, but he hadn’t ever thought that he’d been downright cruel or callous towards her.
He’d been wrong though.
Cuddy had said as much. And though it was difficult for him to accept that, he didn’t doubt that she was right. Regardless of his opinion, he trusted her enough to believe that she wasn’t lying - to know that she wasn’t lying. If she were saying that he’d hurt Rachel on occasion, there was only reason for that assertion.
It was true.
Because of that, it was even more difficult for him to act on what he knew he needed to do now.
He needed to form some sort of relationship with Rachel.
That much was obvious to him, the more he thought about it. Staying away wasn’t an option. Being a father figure or a friend was problematic, for obvious reasons, but he needed to take a step in that direction. There was no other choice.
Tracing the lines on his forehead with his thumb, he realized that he didn’t need to decide what he wanted to be. Becoming Rachel’s friend or her… father (even mentally, he couldn’t help but stumble over the word) wasn’t something that would happen over night. It would be a relationship he needed to cultivate, and that would take time - lots of time, given how terrible at relationship building he was. And that meant this wasn’t a decision he needed to make right now. It wasn’t a choice he could make right now. That was momentarily beyond his control.
All he could do now was… take some sort of step in the friendly, fatherly direction.
Of course, putting it that way, he instantly wanted to back off. He was neither prepared nor eager to change things with Rachel. It was easy to say that he needed to attempt a relationship with her, but it was anything but simple to actually make that happen.
Especially for someone as screwed up as him.
Feeling defeated he sighed into Cuddy’s pillow. Rationally he understood that failure wasn’t an option. But a man like him… was bound to fail. Even if he told himself otherwise, even if he could delude himself into thinking he had a chance, he knew what he was, how he was. He was going to hurt her, no matter how much he tried not to do that.
And the truly terrible part about it was that…he was okay with that. He didn’t want to hurt Rachel; he definitely didn’t want to screw things up. But he accepted that he would have to move in that direction. She would inevitably be hurt, but he needed to press on regardless.
And he would.
As much as he’d wanted to keep Rachel out of it, he could no longer continue to do that. Though he’d never wanted to hurt her, he would by allowing himself to get closer to her. Because as wrong as he knew it was, when it came down to choosing between protecting her or getting what he wanted, he was always going to choose himself.
And truth be told, thinking of it like that made it all the more easier to do it. It was him or her, he reminded himself. He could either push ahead and do what needed to be done or lose Cuddy now; that was what he was essentially choosing between: a life with Cuddy or a life without her.
It was clear which one he wanted for himself, and selfishly he didn’t care at that moment about anyone else.
Obviously he wouldn’t go out of his way to harm Rachel. He would do his best, as he thought he always had, to… not completely screw her up.
He wouldn't go out of his way to cause harm. He knew it was inevitable, but at no point would House actually seek out a way to put her in therapy. He would just... do what he had to do.
And if that sounded vague, it was because, for the life of him, he didn't exactly know what to do. He'd bought Rachel the monkey earlier, made her lunch... but did that really count for something? Was that a step he'd unknowingly taken towards being her friend? If it wasn't, what exactly did he need to do to make it count?
Hell if he knew, he thought. He was completely out of his league when it came to Rachel. But clearly, he needed to figure out the answer to those questions, if he didn't want Cuddy to give him the boot.
Without even a moment's hesitation, he reached for his phone. Instinctively he recognized that these were questions he would never be good at answering. He could understand human behavior and comprehend how human nature worked... but in an incredibly cynical, detached way. It had never been his forte to take that knowledge and apply it to building relationships. Using it to get what he wanted? Sure, but he couldn't be Machiavellian with this particular pursuit. Even if some part of his core understood just how manipulative it all really would be, he knew that it, at least, had to seem genuine. His actions had to scream, "I'm doing this, because I want to get to know you" and not "I'm doing this, because I really like fucking your mom." And in House's mind, there was only one person who could help him achieve that.
Wilson.
No one else had perfected the sweet exterior like Wilson had, especially when it came to wooing women. He'd been married more times than Lindsay Lohan had been arrested, and somehow he'd still managed to have a friendly relationship with each of his exes. He'd been caught doing many, many, many awful things with House, but again, Wilson had always walked away from those situations unscathed. Even when all signs pointed to "bastard," Wilson seemed to manage to escape that label each and every time. And right about now, House needed a little of that charisma to wear off on him.
Wilson would, of course, give him all the ideas in the world. Under the pretense of guidance, Wilson would tell him all he needed to hear - which was why this plan was perfect.
But House hadn't even pressed the number that automatically dialed Wilson's cell when inspiration hit.
True, that feeling could have simply been the start of a migraine; Rachel’s scream, “I hate this!” was certainly loud and shrill enough to make House wince. However, it also gave him an idea.
Tossing his phone down on the bed, he could mentally envision the steps he needed to take.
He had to do something nice to or with Rachel to get Cuddy to back off. Rachel had been complaining for the last half hour at least about having to do homework. And she’d been whining even longer than that about going outside and building a snowman. In fact, she’d been bitching about it all week, it seemed. So…
If he distracted Cuddy long enough, asked her to find something for him maybe… he would have an opening to nab Rachel. Cuddy would be busy doing something else, so he could jam the kid into her snowsuit and shove her out the door. Rachel would get to go outside, which would shut her up. She wouldn’t have to do her homework, which would really make her happy and smooth over her obvious irritation over the fact that he hadn’t read to her.
Cuddy would be pissed, no doubt. Precisely the moment she realized she’d been played, her panties would get all in a knot, and he’d have to deal with that. But, quickly shoving aside the mental image of undoing said knot with his teeth, he realized that she would be easily mollified in this case.
After all, she’d been the one to force the issue. So she couldn’t complain that he’d done exactly what she wanted. Oh, she would try; obviously she would try to complain. But arrogantly he felt confident in his ability to shut her up. One word from her, and he would point out that she’d left it to him to fix things, that if she wanted things to have resolved differently, she should have handled it herself. She might try to weasel her way around that point, but she wouldn’t succeed. And he knew she wouldn’t be a problem.
Standing up, House headed for the bedroom door. He didn’t exactly know how he would get Cuddy away from Rachel, but he realized he couldn’t take the time to figure it out. The noises from the dining room indicated both Rachel and Cuddy were beyond frustrated. They were nearing that point where nothing could be learned and they’d just start fighting.
A novice would say that that was a natural way to separate the two from each other, providing a clear path for House to take Rachel out. But in his mind, his plan would be more effective if he were the one to save her from doing work. She would appreciate it more that way, appreciate him more for being the one to take her out of that situation.
So he moved as fast as his leg would allow him. But even as he walked down the hallway, he could hear over his uneven footsteps, “Stop whining, Rachel. We have to do this.”
“I don’t want to.”
He could hear Cuddy’s ragged sigh. And he wasn’t surprised when she said after a moment, her voice much softer, “All right…. I think it’s time for a break.”
“Yay!”
“No,” Cuddy said, quickly cutting off the celebration. “I’m going to go make some tea. You’re going to sit here, and when I get back,” she warned. “You are going to get through the rest of this page. No whining. No complaining.”
House could hear her stalk off towards the kitchen.
At that point, it almost seemed too good to be true. She was leaving without him needing a distraction, without letting Rachel off the hook…. It was everything he could have wanted and then some. A sense of impending doom made his toes and fingers tingle, but he pushed the feeling away, knowing that he would never have a better moment than this.
Slowing his pace down, he walked as carefully as he could the rest of the way. He didn’t want Cuddy to hear him coming. And he must have succeeded, because she didn’t return from the kitchen. Even as he cautiously poked his head into the dining room, he didn’t hear her move or do anything alarming.
Rachel, on the other hand, noticed him immediately. Perhaps sensing an out, she practically jumped out of her seat. Literally, before he’d even had a chance to motion her over, she was scrambling towards him.
“Shh,” House whispered as she moved noisily towards him. “Unless you want Mommy to hear, be quiet.”
She looked up at him in awe, as though hearing the words made her realize how right he was. Without uttering a single thing, she nodded her head.
Clasping her hand in his, he silently pulled her towards the closet in the front hall. Rachel followed obediently, but she clearly had no idea what was going on. Her eyes were trained on him with equal parts curiosity and suspicion. When he opened the closet and grabbed the hot pink snowsuit that had sat there, barely used, since the beginning of winter, curiosity gave way completely to suspicion.
“Put it on,” he told her, handing it out to her.
But she didn’t take it.
“You wanna go outside and play in the snow or not?” he asked in a hushed voice.
She nodded her head. “But -”
She didn’t get to finish the sentence; anything she might have said was silenced by him stuffing her in the suit. And she must have gotten the hint, because she willingly held out each arm for him to stuff into the puffy arms of the suit.
After he zipped her up, he reached into the closet. Grabbing her coat, he handed it to her. “Put this on.”
Rachel quietly took the coat. As she struggled to put it on, he reached back in the closet and grabbed her snow boots. He jammed them on her feet as quickly as he could, which wasn’t very easy, since she was squirming about trying to zip up her jacket.
“I got it,” he told her, pushing her hands away. Truthfully he could understand why she was having trouble. The puffiness of her snowsuit and the thick material of her coat made it hard to get the teeth of her zipper to line up right. And if he’d left the job to her, she probably wouldn’t have had enough strength to do it herself.
Not that she seemed all that grateful for his help. As soon as he finished, she said, “I can do it myself.”
“Well, I just did it for you, so it doesn’t matter,” he replied snottily.
Instantly he regretted his tone. This was supposed to be an attempt to get along with her, he reminded himself. It might have come naturally to be sarcastic or dismissive or... some other negative adjective, but it wasn’t going to help his cause. Even if she deserved it (which he realized, unfortunately, that she didn't), he couldn't respond that way. It wasn't going to get him what he wanted in the end, and he knew that.
Forcing himself to mentally take a step back, he tried to smooth over the moment by telling her, "Let's just get this over with."
"I'm hot," Rachel complained as House tied a scarf around her neck.
Stuffing a hot pink hat shaped like a rabbit on her head, he could appreciate what she was saying. She looked overstuffed, covered from head to toe in winter clothes. Like a Stay Puffed Marshmallow Man who had been doused in pink paint, she seemed incredibly encumbered by layers and down-filled clothing. But he couldn't help that.
Cuddy was bound to be annoyed that he let Rachel out at all. There was no way he was also going to deal with the fallout of not having her properly dressed for the weather. Well, at least for not having her dressed according to Cuddy’s definition of what proper winter attire was, he mentally corrected. Because God only knew that her definition wasn't anywhere near what sane people thought was okay.
But in a way, he was beginning to assume that he couldn’t avoid that part of the fight. If he wanted to get Rachel outside before Cuddy discovered them, he needed to work fast. But at this point, he doubted he could work fast enough to get the kid fully dressed.
As though just thinking that triggered the event itself, he suddenly heard Cuddy. Her footsteps were soft; in his mind, she was carrying two mugs of hot tea in her hands, and she was afraid of spilling. But she was slowly moving back towards the dining room. "Rachel," she said softly, as though expecting her daughter to reply immediately.
It would only be a matter of seconds before Cuddy realized what was wrong. And House knew he needed to get Rachel out the door.
Now.
Grabbing her mittens and her, he pulled her towards the front door.
"Rachel," Cuddy said loudly. She'd clearly just realized her daughter wasn't patiently waiting in her seat for more homework fun.
House wrenched the front door open as two mugs filled with hot tea clanked loudly against the dining room table.
"Rachel, this isn't funny." In his head, he could picture her glancing underneath the table and realizing she wasn't there.
And then there were more footsteps - heading this way.
Panicked, House shoved Rachel out of the front door (he could see her falling in a flash of hot pink against white snow) and tossed the mittens in his hands behind her. She would be able to put them on herself, he thought in the back of his mind.
The footsteps practically behind him, House started to shut the door.
"What are you doing?" Cuddy asked suddenly.
Busted House turned around. Like a deer caught in headlights, he wasn't sure how to respond or what to say. Normally he would have a lie on the tip of his tongue. But it was hard to know what lie to use now, considering he didn't even know how much she'd seen. "I...."
"You're leaving," she said with dismay.
Had she seen Rachel, surely, House thought, she would have mentioned that. Since she hadn't said that, that could only mean that Rachel had managed to escape unseen.
"Yeah," he lied calmly.
Cuddy frowned. "Without your coat?"
He shrugged like it was no big deal. "Going for a drive," he supplied. "I just... want to clear my head."
It seemed like a lie that would make sense, given what had happened earlier. Between Rachel saying she hated him and Cuddy inadvertently accusing him of being like his father (which still stung), it wasn't out of the question that he would want time alone. He had wanted time alone.
But if that seemed understandable to her, she didn't say. If anything, her frown just seemed to deepen, and all she told him was, "Stay here."
He didn't move as she disappeared down the hallway for a moment. But he was tempted to when he saw her stop in front of the closet he'd just rooted through. Surely she saw that it was a mess, that the bright pink objects belonging to Rachel were missing.
Yet... none of that seemed to register with Cuddy. Maybe she simply didn't expect Rachel to try to run outside or for him to help her escape. Maybe Cuddy was so focused on his apparent need to get out that Rachel's didn't register in her mind at all. Whatever the reason, she simply reached for his coat in the opened closet and retrieved it.
Returning to him with it, she said calmly, "You need a coat.”
He didn't take it. "I was just going to drive for -”
"Take it anyway."
He did cautiously and slowly slipped it on.
"Do you have your keys?"
House didn’t, but he wasn’t sure if he should lie. If he did and she caught him, she might become suspicious.
Well… possibly more suspicious.
So he answered with the vague, non-committal “I think so.”
She glanced over at the coffee table by the front door. It was where he usually kept his keys, and since he hadn’t had any plans to go anywhere, they were, of course, right there.
Without saying a word, she reached over and plucked them off the table. When she handed them to him, he lied again. “Have a lot on my mind….”
It was obvious she believed him. Her hand immediately reaching up to cup his cheek, she said quietly, “Maybe you should stay here then. Go lay down and -”
“Listen to you and Rachel -”
“We’ll be quiet.”
“Cause that’s worked out so well so far.”
A saner person wouldn’t have read into that statement. Cuddy, not being entirely sane and knowing him far too well, though did.
Immediately she pulled her hand away from him. “She has to learn this -”
“And forcing her, so that we may all hear how to spell hen -”
“Fine. Just go, House,” she said in frustration.
He was about to when he realized that he couldn’t open the door with Cuddy standing right there. If he did, in all likelihood, she would see Rachel.
Thinking of a distraction, he offered her, “She was heading towards her bedroom a few minutes ago.”
The irritation drained from her face, and he felt a bang of guilt when she said, “Thank you.”
After she’d headed down the hallway, he slipped outside.
Predictably Rachel was standing there, mittens still on the ground. She was scowling. “You pushed me.”
He bent down and picked up the forgotten mittens. “Let’s put these on,” he told her in an even voice. But she didn’t stick out her hands. “Rachel, come on.”
“You pushed me.”
House sighed. This wasn’t what he envisioned happening, not at all. But she clearly wasn’t going to move past it until he apologized. “Look, kid, I didn’t want your mom to catch us. I’m sorry.”
Her reply was instantaneous. “I bit my tongue.” She held out her hands for him anyway.
“Does it still hurt?” he asked as she slipped her fingers into the mittens.
“No.”
He stood up. “Then go play.” Rachel didn’t move, however, so he added, “Before Mommy realizes we’re out here.”
The mere mention of her mother seemed to be enough to get her in the mood to play. Yet she barely took a step before she hesitated.
Stopping in her tracks, she looked back at him. He could practically feel her measured look, her eyes assessing him intently. And it made him uncomfortable - to watch her peering back at him with increasing intensity.
For the life of him, he didn’t know what she wanted or why she seemed so interested in him all of a sudden. So he was surprised when she said sincerely, "I'm sorry I said I hated you."
He was stunned.
Truly, he was shocked; he hadn't expected an apology - certainly not after the first one had gone so horribly. He'd just assumed that she would behave as Cuddy had insinuated: Rachel had had no clue how hurtful her words had been, so any apology he would get would be, at best, half-assed.
But this wasn't.
She meant it.
That was the thought on his mind when she latched onto his leg. Hugging the limb, she was warm even through the thick layer of jeans he was wearing. "I shouldn't have said that," she admitted, her voice muffled, because she'd buried her face into his good thigh.
And he could see [even more] clearly then what his problem with all of this would be. He could do nice things for Rachel, and he could try to get along with her. But emotionally... he would always be inadequate. He would never know what to say in these situations or how to react so that she would understand what he felt.
He’d never been good at that. It might have been easy to point to Cuddy and claim that he’d obviously found some decent way of communicating with her, but he knew better than that. He’d always been ineffectual and bad, and if he’d managed to maintain a relationship with Cuddy, it had everything to do with her ability to understand intuitively what he needed or what he meant.
Rachel didn’t have that. And it was wrong to expect any differently. He knew that much, acknowledged that if he wanted her to understand him, he had to make that happen. He couldn’t depend on anyone else.
But he was awkward in dealing with the moment. Lamely letting his hand rest atop Rachel's head, he patted her crown much like you would a dog. Or in this case, a rabbit, as his palm was pressed between two hot pink ears that stuck straight out of the top of her fleece hat.
"Thanks," he said with equal unease.
He thought that was enough. What else was he supposed to say? Rachel was still hugging his leg like there was something left to be done. If that were true though, he had no idea what that was. He'd accepted the apology... touched her. What else was there?
"Why don't you go play?" he started to say. Fearing that perhaps his tone was too harsh, he choked the words down and started over. "It's okay, Rachel."
She looked up at him finally. He couldn't tell if she was relieved or not. He would have liked to think so, but his own anxiety over their closeness made it hard for him to read the emotions on her face.
"Play," he told her quietly. "Once Mommy knows where you are, she's going to want you to finish your homework."
Rachel knew he was right about that. Mommy had told her to stay in the chair, but Rachel hadn't listened. She didn't want to do homework. She didn't like it - the way Mommy made her write boring Rs or acted like everything was easy when it wasn’t. And when House had brought her outside, Rachel hadn't refused, cause she'd wanted to go outside even though she had homework to do.
She knew it was wrong. She knew it was bad to do something her mother hadn't approved of, and as soon as Mommy found out, Rachel knew she would be in trouble. She'd have to go to timeout and apologize and work in that stupid book. So she knew House was right. She should play now before she couldn't have any fun.
“Okay,” she said in agreement. But she didn’t run off right away. Instead, as she pulled away from him completely, she asked, “Do you know how to make a snowman?”
House glanced around them. Certainly, there was enough snow on the ground to make a legion of snowmen. However, much of that snow had fallen weeks ago and had ample time to melt and refreeze. From what he’d seen, it would be far too icy to make a snowman out of that.
There was more snow falling from the sky. Feeling it hit his face though in large wet flakes, House could tell that just skimming the top layer of snow on the ground wouldn’t work either. It was too wet and wouldn’t hold together well.
“I do,” he answered finally. “But we need snow that’s gonna stick together. This won’t.”
For whatever reason, Rachel didn’t believe him. “I can make it stick,” she said confidently.
His first instinct was to disagree with her, but really, he thought almost immediately, what was the point? Like he was, like her mother was, Rachel was stubborn. She wasn’t going to just listen to him, because he told her that it wouldn’t work. She needed to see that for herself.
“Okay,” he said, capitulating easily. “You’ll need to make a snowball about this big.” He held his hands out in front of him. His fingers curled into big Cs to indicate that she would need a fairly large ball of snow to get started. “Do that, and if it stays together, then we’ll roll it up.”
Rachel squatted down, her arms opening wide. Eagerly she scooped up as much snow as she could off of the porch.
It disintegrated the second she tried to pack it together.
Standing up once more, she looked at House. “I’ll be right back,” she told him. And off she went, searching for the perfect snow.
He didn’t stop her or try to dissuade her from that. If she wanted to spend the rest of her time outside trying to make snowballs, that was her choice. He certainly wasn’t going to intervene.
Then again, if he’d wanted to, he wouldn’t have had much of a choice. Rachel had just started grabbing at snow around one of the bushes when Cuddy finally made an appearance.
From the way the front door was violently wrenched open behind him, House knew he was screwed.
Continue on to the rest of the chapter