Gift of Screws, Chapter 25.1
Title: Gift of Screws, Chapter Twenty Five, 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), Chapter 19 (Part 1), Chapter 19 (Part 2), Chapter 19 (Part 3), Chapter 19 (Part 4), Chapter 20 (Part 1), Chapter 20 (Part 2), Chapter 21 (Part 1), Chapter 21 (Part 2), Chapter 22 (Part 1), Chapter 22 (Part 2), Chapter 23 (Part 1), Chapter 23 (Part 2), Chapter 24 (Part 1), Chapter 24 (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
The roads had glazed over once more with a solid sheet of ice. Harsh kernels of frozen snow and the remnants of road salt crackled under her tires as she carefully drove home in the dark. The rigors of work an uneasy ache in the back of her mind, it was the situation with House that seemed to bear down on her oppressively. Her focus remaining on the highway, the paperwork in her briefcase niggled at her attention. For as sure as she was that this was the right way to test him, there remained an inkling of doubt, a question of appropriateness she couldn’t entirely ignore.
Sitting in front of her lawyer, she had recognized the dangerous game she was playing.
What if House said yes? What if he said no?
Somehow this idea of hers, while guaranteed to work, was beginning to feel like a great way to destroy their relationship.
An hour ago, she had pushed through that hesitation anyway. Her attorney hadn’t been an idiot, had noticed that she was taking an unnecessary step here - meaning that she was purposely avoiding the more direct action. Cuddy had told him to do his job. But the closer she got to actually handing the papers to House, the more she felt that this was probably a bad idea.
If he said no, he would have been lying to her this whole time. Every insinuation that he cared about Rachel, that he would eventually care about her, would have been a lie. If he said no, how could they keep living together?
Then again, if he said yes… what would Cuddy do? She hadn’t set out this morning hoping to take this step with him. When the weekend had begun, she hadn’t thought it would create this catastrophe that ended with her questioning how he felt about her daughter. And if he signed the papers, she was not sure she was prepared to handle that.
How could she be?
He was making these claims - that he knew Rachel better than she did, that he loved her - when three days ago he could hardly bear to spend time with Rachel. Maybe he meant what he said; maybe he thought he meant what he said. But that didn’t make it any easier for Cuddy to believe much less accept. And in the end, he could say whatever he wanted, but she needed proof. She needed to see it and know that it wasn’t just an act, wasn’t just a way to manipulate her.
But not for a second could he know he was being tested. If he knew she was questioning his motives, he would be angry. If he didn’t mean it, he would get defensive to protect his lie. If he were earnest, then her doubt would crush him, would probably be the end of them.
And yet, even knowing that, Cuddy understood she had to see this through. Regardless of the consequences, she needed to know how he felt. She would never outright believe what he said, not when it came to something as important as her child; she needed to see it.
She had a right to.
In the hours away, this was the conclusion that she had come to: she had a right to want proof, to be suspicious and non-accepting of anything less than concrete. She hadn’t been perfect by any means these past twenty-four hours. She had been riled up with fear and frustration, fueled by their never-ending problems. She wasn’t so entrenched in her thinking that she couldn’t see the mistakes she’d made. But she wasn’t wrong to hold House to a higher standard when it came to her daughter. Maybe it wasn’t fair to be so suspicious; maybe she had wrongly lashed out - okay, she’d definitely been wrong to pick fights with him last night. With Rachel though, Cuddy had a right to be cautious. Her daughter only deserved as much.
Unfortunately, Cuddy wasn’t sure House would appreciate that. When all was said and done, after he’d made his feelings clear, she didn’t know that he would respect her motivation. Because she’d been so… insane, she feared that he would judge her far more harshly for her rational choices.
She supposed she had earned that.
As crazy as she’d been, he had every right to react that way. Hours of work had robbed her of the intense energy that made that fact hard for her to see. Forced outside of the home, she had eventually, hours afterward, been able to focus on something other than House and Rachel. The stress of work had been an outlet, the constant text messages from House about Rachel’s health a welcome reassurance. And though Cuddy felt that insanity lurking inside of her body still, she was calmer now. Well, that might have been overstating it; she was tired now. But her exhausted state was working for her.
At least, it had been; the closer she got to home, the less and less true that seemed to be. For a brief moment, it had seemed like she could properly view her behavior. Now though she was beginning to think that what she’d experienced had been nothing more than a slight reprieve from her insanity. Because the longer she drove, the more she began to think that she was making the wrong choice, the more fear began to take over once more.
By the time she pulled into the garage, she felt like she was on the verge of a panic attack. If this went wrong, she would have to deal with why House had lied to her. If it went really badly, there would be no dealing with him on a personal level ever again. And if by chance he had meant everything he’d said… she didn’t know what she would do.
All she could think of, when she imagined that scenario, was that she wasn’t ready. She didn’t want to share Rachel. She didn’t want to have him… interfering, making himself look like the hero in every scenario, as though she didn’t have enough to worry about when it came to her daughter.
In her head, she recognized how childish it sounded, but Cuddy didn’t care. Selfishly, immaturely, she worried what his intrusion might do to her relationship with Rachel. The very possibility of it changing terrifying her, Cuddy was horrified that his presence might mean something awful for her. She’d fought a long time to have a child, much less love one, and just the idea that House could come in now and render all of that hard work useless… made her angry.
He wouldn’t have to do half of what she’d done to have Rachel in her life. But he would reap all of the reward for her hard work. He’d be the one who got to have all the fun with her; the actual parenting would be left to Cuddy, but he’d be the one Rachel would end up preferring. He would never punish her; he would never tell her no. Any time he tried to stand up to her, he would back down and reward her with whatever it was she wanted. Cuddy would do her best to make sure Rachel turned out somewhat decently, but that would breed resentment in her daughter.
And that was what scared her most of all. It wasn’t that House would have a much easier time gaining access to Rachel. It wasn’t that he would relate to her in a way Cuddy would not. It was that Cuddy would become the harsher parent, the one to push and punish, a singular bulwark against complacency and bad behavior.
In other words, House’s increased presence would turn her into her own mother.
Childish or not, Cuddy didn’t want that.
But if he signed these papers, if he meant what he’d said, she would have to give him a larger role and accept her new one. Or he would lie or refuse to sign or she wouldn’t let him, and they would break up.
For a brief moment, she considered forgetting the whole thing altogether. Would it really be that hard to pretend she had never gone to her lawyer’s? Would it be that difficult to simply say to House that she’d been upset about Rachel’s health and leave it at that? She thought the answer was no. She also thought that it didn’t matter; this issue would come up again sooner or later.
Eventually they would have to address these concerns. And the longer they waited, the more fights they would have; the closer Rachel would get to him, the harder it would be to resolve this argument honestly.
No, she thought as she stepped out of the car. It was for the best that they do this now… whatever the consequences might be.
Obviously knowing that didn’t make the choice any easier. The second she entered the house, that was perfectly clear.
This wouldn’t be easy.
That was never more apparent than when she found both Rachel and House asleep on the couch in the living room. He had an arm behind his head, another clutching a book to his chest. The glasses he’d worn were still on his face, and resting on top of him and the book was Rachel. Cuddy couldn’t be sure if he’d willingly let her sleep on his lap or if she’d climbed up after he’d become unconscious. But what was going on before her painted a picture Cuddy couldn’t deny.
They were becoming close.
Whether House meant it or not, Rachel was responding to his increased attention. Even though they had a volatile relationship, she was clearly welcoming this change, momentary or not. She was accepting enough that once again, Cuddy questioned her own rightness in the situation.
Really, if he could adjust to Rachel being in his life, if her daughter could embrace him, then what was her problem, Cuddy wondered. Why was she the only one who seemed to have any issue with the way things were going?
Because she was the only true adult, a voice inside whispered. Because she lived with two children, neither of whom were capable of or interested in considering the ramifications of their actions. They just did what they wanted, and when it went wrong, they both came to her to fix it. They didn’t care enough to avoid problems; they simply believed she would take care of whatever went badly. Knowing that, they had no reason to worry about what they did. And she had every reason.
Bearing that responsibility wasn’t easy. But it was obviously all hers, as no one else would ever shoulder some of that burden for her. And it might have felt awful to have to ask the questions that could destroy them, but again, it was her job to do so. No matter how much she cowardly wanted to pretend like none of this was happening, she didn’t have that option.
She had to question this; she had to challenge it, because no one else would.
No one else was going to ensure that this was a healthy, meaningful, honest development. As always, she was the only one who would do that. And as hard as it was going to be, once again, Cuddy told herself that it was necessary, that avoiding this issue was impossible. If not today, at some point, she would need to know that House actually cared about her daughter, that they could be a family in a way that wasn’t built on a lie, that wouldn’t hurt her relationship with Rachel. So why not today? The sooner she did this, the better it would be for all of them.
If only that made it easy, she thought, setting her briefcase down next to the couch. As she stood back up, she taken by surprise.
Rachel’s eyes were wide open and looking at her.
Smiling, Cuddy said quietly, “You’re awake.” Rachel nodded her head enthusiastically. “I thought you were sleeping. It’s past your bedtime.”
“I’m not tired.” Unconcerned that House was asleep, she was louder than she needed to be.
“Shh.” Cuddy held a finger up to her lips. “House is sleeping, so we need to be quiet, so we don’t wake him up.”
At that point though, Rachel was no longer listening. Shifting on top of him, she was too busy trying to climb off of him. Instantly Cuddy could see the potential danger; one wrong move, and House could have been woken with Rachel’s hands, elbows, or knees digging into his thigh.
Quickly Cuddy reached for Rachel and carefully picked her up. “I got you,” she said in soft tones. “Let’s try not to kill House tonight.”
Rachel relaxed in her arms almost immediately. Although she’d claimed not to be tired, she was inadvertently making it obvious that the late hour was wearing on her. Her head on Cuddy’s shoulder within seconds, she was clearly ready for bed. Nevertheless there was just a touch of energy left in her, enough fight that she would not go to sleep easily.
However, Cuddy thought that might have been for the best. Having not had much of an opportunity to talk to her at all, Cuddy wasn’t ready to put her to bed right away. She would have, had it been necessary, but Rachel didn’t seem cranky enough to be truly exhausted.
“How about you help Mommy change?” Cuddy suggested. “You can tell me what you did today.”
Rachel lifted her head. As they disappeared down the hallway, she started to talk. “We watched movies, and I got to eat a cookie cause I taked my medicine, and I slept a lot.”
“I’m assuming he gave you more than cookies.”
She frowned as Cuddy dumped her onto the bed. “He made me eat vegetables.”
“Oh you poor baby,” she said lightly, her fingertips tickling Rachel so she laughed. Kissing her cheeks, she told her, “Not vegetables.”
Giggling Rachel rolled away. “Mommy, stop. No more tickles.”
“All right. I’ll stop.” Hand on her back, Cuddy patted her daughter softly. “Do you feel better today?” Rachel nodded her head slowly. “You get sick at all?”
Her cheeks turned red. Her body shifting on the bed, she was obviously uncomfortable - ashamed to answer the question. “Twice,” she said eventually. “I throwed up.”
Cuddy leaned down and kissed her once more. She wasn’t surprised that Rachel had gotten sick; glucagon could have the side effect of vomiting, and Rachel was so small that any major shift in her glucose levels could leave her reeling. The problem with that was not that it came as a surprise but that any denial of nutrition could easily send her back into a hypoglycemic state.
“House check your blood sugar?”
“Uh huh.”
“Good. How’s your tummy feel now?”
Rachel shrugged. “Okay.” The way she said it, it sounded like it didn’t matter to her. Not out of a lack of concern, the words had been uttered that way, because she knew, even at her young age, that this problem would never go away. There would always be needles, always be pills and emergencies and late nights and bad days that followed.
For Cuddy, that fact was never far from her mind. For a five year old, it must have been the kind of burden that made the world seem like it was ending.
Climbing onto the bed, Cuddy laid down next to her daughter. Close to her, Cuddy told her honestly, “I’m sorry, Rachel. I know it’s been a bad weekend.” Her fingers tucking a stray lock of hair behind Rachel’s ear, she added, “I promise you we’ll do something fun soon.”
Whether Rachel believed her or not was hard to say. Cuddy would have liked to be convincing, but she understood that that was difficult considering they both knew things would never be permanently better.
If that thought was on Rachel’s mind though, she never let on. Instead, she asked sweetly, “Do I have to go to school tomorrow?”
“I don’t know. Maybe,” Cuddy said diplomatically. “It depends on how you feel and if there’s school to go to. I think you might have a snow day.” Rachel’s lips split into a wide grin. “Maybe,” Cuddy repeated. “Don’t count on it.”
“Then I don’t think I feel good. I might throw up again.”
“We’ll see about that.” Cuddy started to pull away. “I’m going to get changed.”
As she sat up though, Rachel’s eyes caught sight of the pearl necklace swaying lightly around her neck. “They look like gum balls,” she pointed out.
“Oh?” Cuddy didn’t know what she was talking about at first. Her gaze following the line of Rachel’s sight, it took her a moment to figure out what Rachel meant.
Fingering the necklace, Cuddy agreed. “They kind of do. Although you wouldn’t want to try eating these,” she said standing up. “They’d break your teeth.”
“Can I play with them?”
Cuddy reluctantly took off the necklace and handed it to her. “Be careful with them. That belonged to your great grandmother.”
“What does that -”
“Nana’s mother. My grandmother,” she explained, heading to her dresser to take off her earrings. “Shocking though it may be, Nana was not hatched from an egg and raised by wolves.”
She paused on the suit button she had in her grasp. Looking back at Rachel, she could see that her daughter was only partly paying attention; she was too busy rubbing the pearls between her palms to truly listen. But just on the chance that Rachel had picked up what she’d said, Cuddy immediately added, “Don’t repeat that to her.”
Rachel didn’t say anything. The subtle clank of pearls and the rustle of Cuddy changing were the only sounds to be heard - at least until Rachel exclaimed a few minutes later, “Ow!”
Finishing pulling on her pajama pants, Cuddy turned around just in time to see the pearl necklace winding down from being swung. The angry red mark on Rachel’s hand painted a clear picture. She’d been twirling the necklace violently and gotten hit on the hand.
“What did I just tell you?” Cuddy went back to the bed and carefully pried the pearls from Rachel’s fist. “If you can’t be gentle, you can’t play with it.”
“My hand,” Rachel said sadly.
Cuddy ran her fingers over Rachel’s red knuckles. “I think you’ll be okay.”
“It stings.”
She leaned down and kissed the back of Rachel’s hand a few times. “Is that a little better?” Rachel shook her head, so Cuddy pressed a few more kissed into the soft flesh. “Now?”
“A little bit.”
“Good.”
She let go of Rachel and quickly placed the pearl necklace on her dresser. Turning back to her daughter, Cuddy motioned for her to get up. “All right, monkey. I think it’s time for you to go to bed.”
She expected resistance. Though there was no way Rachel could win this battle, Cuddy had anticipated a fight anyway. But tonight, Rachel sat up without hesitation. Tiredly rubbing at her eyes, she let Cuddy pick her up.
“Are you sleepy?”
“Some.”
“House give you a bath today?” Rachel nodded her head. “Did you brush your teeth?” There was another nod. And since she was already in her pajamas, Cuddy was relieved that she could just put her daughter in bed without any stops along the way. It made things simpler, meant that Cuddy herself would be able to sleep sooner than later.
Well, at least that was what it meant usually. Tonight she wasn’t so sure that was the case. She still had to discuss things with House. So perhaps it was smarter to say that being able to put Rachel into bed straight away meant Cuddy could save her energy for the fight she knew would happen later. But in the end, even that turned out to be false.
As she tucked Rachel into her bed, Rachel admitted, “I didn’t eat dinner.”
Cuddy sat back on the mattress unsure of how to proceed. “Tonight or -”
“At the party.”
Given how low Rachel’s blood sugar had been, the information was only surprising in that it was being admitted to at all. In Cuddy’s mind, the truth was something she would have to force from her daughter with bribes and threats. And the thing about that was she hadn’t even considered having this conversation yet. Selfishly enough, Cuddy had only focused on her situation with House. She hadn’t thought about her daughter at all.
Disgust with herself didn’t even begin to cover it. The way she felt, there were no words for the amount of self-loathing in Cuddy at that moment. Although there were times when Rachel took a back seat to other things in Cuddy’s life out of necessity, in this case… it was inexcusable. Because it was one thing to be busy with work, to be so consumed with saving a life that a babysitter needed to be called; it was another to barely think about her daughter within twenty-four hours of a medical emergency.
It was unforgivable.
As understandable as it was for Cuddy to be obsessed with House’s behavior, she knew she should have resisted that temptation. Work and him and all the other problems she’d faced were nothing compared to her daughter. She should have never even seemed to have forgotten that. But after each and every text House had sent her way that day, reassuring her that everything was fine, she had believed him; she had refocused her attention on other things.
And she should not have done that.
At that moment, there didn’t seem to be enough space within her for the guilt she felt. As though her organs and bones were being crushed by shame, she found herself frozen to respond. She had screwed up so badly, let down her daughter in ways Rachel didn’t understand but surely would if Cuddy kept behaving like this.
“Are you mad?” Rachel asked, obviously scared by her mother’s silence.
That snapped Cuddy out of her daze. “What? No.” She shook her head. “Of course not. Not at all.” Scooting up on the bed, she laid her head down on the pillow. Face to face with Rachel, she said carefully, “I’m just… curious about what happened. Because I know you’re a smart little girl and you wouldn’t do that without a reason.”
Rachel fidgeted, twisted the sheets in her tiny hands. “I don’t wanna say.”
“I know. I know,” Cuddy said, smoothing her daughter’s hair back. “I’m not mad. I promise you: no matter what happened, I’m not going to get mad. I just want to know the truth. Okay?”
Rachel wasn’t sure if she should believe Mommy. Sometimes when adults said they wouldn’t get mad, they did anyway. Maybe Mommy wouldn’t be angry, but there was a good chance she would, and Rachel didn’t want to get in trouble. But not telling the truth wasn’t an option, because Mommy would get mad if she lied, and she would get mad if she said she didn’t say anything, and Rachel thought at that moment that there seemed to be an awful lot that made adults unhappy. No matter what, Mommy wouldn’t be pleased, and Rachel really didn’t want to say anything.
She didn’t want to talk about what happened. She’d already done that once today, when stupid, stinky House had forced it from her. She didn’t want to repeat what had happened, how they’d locked her in the closet and called her fat and ugly and how she hadn’t been able to listen to it, again. She didn’t want to cry no more, didn’t want to talk about it if Mommy was just gonna insist that those poopy faces were friends cause they wasn’t.
But then maybe Mommy wouldn’t say that. Maybe if Rachel told her the truth, she would realize just how annoying and dumb those guys were. Maybe Mommy wouldn’t ever make her play with them again!
If that wasn’t a reason to talk, Rachel wasn’t sure what was.
“They locked me in the closet,” she said angrily. “They -”
“Who are ‘they,’ Rachel?”
She whined loudly in frustration. Mommy instantly tried to shush her, but Rachel batted her hands away. She didn’t want to be shushed; she wanted to tell the truth and then never talk about it again.
“Those stupid guys!” she snapped. “All dem. Nevaeh and George and all of them!”
“The kids at the party last night.”
“Yes. They locked me in a closet.”
Mommy looked confused. “Why would they do that? Are you sure they didn’t accidentally -”
“I’m not lying,” Rachel said, pouting.
“No, I’m not saying you are. I just don’t understand why -”
“Because they hate me. That’s why. They say it all the time. They hate me. Cause they think I’m fat and ugly and stupid and a baby, and they hid my dinner, and they hate me. And I hate them.”
Mommy didn’t say anything at first. Rachel thought that was probably a good thing. Cause if she said something right away, it usually meant that she thought Rachel was wrong or had lied or something like that. But if she was quiet, then she was listening, and that was good, Rachel thought.
When she did speak, it was clear Mommy did believe her. Because she didn’t accuse her of lying or accidentally getting locked in the closet or anything along those lines. She just asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
But that was almost as bad as not believing her, cause Rachel had tried to tell her. “I did. You was busy.”
Cuddy did her best to recall the night before and whether that had happened. She didn’t think her daughter was lying, but she wanted to make sure that Rachel actually had tried to approach her.
Try as she might though, she couldn’t think of anything. Cuddy hadn’t seen Rachel at all after dinner, so if it had happened at all, it would have been before. There’d been the incident at dinner, of course, but Rachel hadn’t been interested in the truth then, because she’d said she’d eaten her dinner. She’d lied; she hadn’t given any indication that there’d been something she’d wanted to discuss.
And then Cuddy remembered: there’d been a moment when Rachel had tugged on her leg, had tried to get her attention. She’d tried to say something while Cuddy had been talking to someone else….
Cuddy hadn’t listened.
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I am. I was just -”
She cut herself off before she could finish the sentence. How was she going to finish it that made her inattendence okay? “I was just talking to someone else”? “I was too busy with work to listen”? No matter how she worded it, it sounded awful even in her own head. And that was perfectly understandable, because it was awful.
She’d been focused on work while her daughter had been tormented. Right? That was what had happened. Rachel had been locked in a closet, called all those names…. The sheer level of hatred those children seemed to have for her disturbed Cuddy, disgusted her.
Part of her wanted to believe that Rachel was exaggerating or that this was an isolated incident. But how could it be? If those children had been willing to behave like that in a house swarming with adults, what would they do, what had they done, when adults hadn’t been around?
And while they’d been locking her daughter in the closet, what had Cuddy been doing? She’d been too busy talking to someone whose name she couldn’t even remember a day after the fact.
Even if that hadn’t occurred, Cuddy suddenly remembered all the attempts Rachel had made prior to the party to get out of going. She’d said… many, many things that upon reflection Cuddy couldn’t believe she’d ignored her up until this point. No, she knew then; this was not an isolated moment, a rare fight between friends. This had been happening for a while if Rachel had been that desperate to avoid being anywhere near those children.
“I’m so sorry,” she repeated, hugging Rachel close to her. “That shouldn’t have happened to you.”
Her voice mumbled, Rachel said, “I don’t wanna be their friend.”
“You don’t have to be. I promise you.” Cuddy patted Rachel on the back. “I’m sorry you couldn’t tell anyone. I -”
“I told House,” Rachel interrupted in a way that was somehow equally conversational as it was pointedly aimed at her.
Cuddy didn’t consider Rachel’s tone or what it might have meant. She simply heard the words and reacted.
Before she could stifle the question, she asked, “Why would you tell him?”
Instantly the mood in the room shifted. Understanding and sympathy were replaced with defensiveness and coolness. Where Rachel had been willing to express herself before, now she looked up at Cuddy as though there was nothing left to say. Like she’d been slapped in the face, Rachel seemed embarrassed, upset, sure that she had done something wrong.
Cuddy could see it in her features. The question had made Rachel think she’d misbehaved by telling House what had happened. There was no denying it - especially when Rachel pulled away and asked quietly, “Was I not supposed to?”
The question put everything into perspective.
Cuddy hadn’t wanted to share her daughter with House. She’d worried, as she still did, that, if that were to happen, she would end up being the marginalized one, the parent with little affection from her child. Fearful of that, she’d done her best to protect that relationship from House. Even as she’d told him he needed to try harder, she had walled off many of the responsibilities he might have otherwise shouldered. She’d purposely, if only subconsciously, kept the distinction between her and him, so that he could never encroach upon her territory.
She didn’t want to believe that was what she’d been doing; it was odd and difficult to reflect on her behavior the last few years and think that she’d been doing that. Not a particularly unaware person, Cuddy thought it perplexing that she could have been so ignorant to something that obvious.
But clearly, she hadn’t known.
Or if she could have known, she had chosen not to see the truth.
Now though the truth was apparent to the point that it felt like a physical presence weighing on her mind. She’d been pushing House away.
Perhaps she could accept that on its own terms. Certainly, he had brought it up to her before, and she had ignored his complaints time and time again. But she could no longer ignore it because of Rachel.
Because Rachel was starting to think that she was doing something wrong by getting closer to him. She felt guilty for confiding in him. She was acting as though she’d been bad.
And as terrified as Cuddy was to share her with House, she knew:
She couldn’t let Rachel feel that way.
She couldn’t harm her child to keep things as they were.
She couldn’t refuse change, because to do so would be to teach her daughter to be ashamed of getting close to new people.
She couldn’t continue as she was, because it was wrong.
Rachel’s guilt now mirrored in her own eyes, Cuddy swallowed hard. Her voice shaky, she tentatively said, “No. You didn’t do anything wrong.” She shook her head, emphasizing a point that made her anxious to even say. “I’m just….”
What she wanted to tell her was she was sorry for not being the person Rachel could talk to. But midway through the thought, Cuddy reconsidered. If - and it was an if still - House was going to play a larger part in Rachel’s life, it couldn’t seem like he was a back up for Cuddy. It couldn’t be that he was only good to confide in when there was no one else to talk to. That would be a disservice to all of them. Again, it was still unknown how the night would go. If he’d been faking it this whole time, Cuddy would… have no choice but to cut him out. If he’d been manipulating her, that was it. But if he could demonstrate that he’d behaved with honest intentions, she would have to change some of her own patterns. And that had to start now. Because she wouldn’t be able to fix the problem if she spent her time now teaching her daughter that House was either bad or barely acceptable for her.
“Surprised,” she finally finished, forcing herself to ignore whatever doubt she had about House for now. “I didn’t think you liked him very much.”
Rachel relaxed on the bed. The guilt in her eyes slowly melting away, she shrugged after a moment. “He made me eat carrots. In soup.”
“Hmm,” Cuddy murmured in understanding. “But they’re good for you.”
“They was yucky and hot and mushy.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”
“Uh huh. It was. And I don’t want no more of it.”
“Any more,” Cuddy lightly corrected. “I’m sure House just wanted to get rid of the soup, but I will let him know that you don’t want any tomorrow.”
Rachel looked at her carefully. “He’s gonna stay wif me tomorrow?”
That hadn’t been what Cuddy meant, not exactly. She hadn’t thought at all about what would happen tomorrow. There was still so much left to do tonight that the idea of the sun coming up the next morning was far beyond Cuddy’s comprehension at the moment.
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “Maybe. It depends on -”
“I don’t want him.”
“Why not?” Tiredly she wondered if this was going to lead to further discussion about how House had made Rachel eat carrots.
But that wasn’t what Rachel said in response - thankfully.
“Cause I don’t wanna,” she whined. “I want you.”
Once again Cuddy was faced with still more proof that she had been wrong all along. She’d been convinced that House would be the one Rachel wanted to spend time with, because he let her do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. But maybe... that wasn’t true.
Thinking about it now, Cuddy supposed it was idiotic to believe that a few days of fun could undo or match five years of nothing but love. To think that her relationship with Rachel would suffer because of House’s involvement… nothing seemed further from the truth at that moment.
A doubtful part of her wasn’t sure it was wise to throw herself head long into this realization. She could still end up being right in the end; maybe things didn’t change after a few days. But after a couple years? Dynamics could shift, sure. If House kept up this behavior, if he further ingratiated himself into Rachel’s life, why wouldn’t he quickly become the favorite?
Again, Cuddy didn’t deny the childishness in these thoughts. She was well aware of the immaturity, of the egotism necessary for these kinds of ideas to thrive within her mind. But there was a difference between recognizing that and changing, between understanding and acting.
It didn’t matter that she could see how infantile her thoughts were. At the end of the day, that didn’t reassure her. That didn’t make her think there was no problem here. And without that security, it was impossible to dismiss those ideas outright.
All of that said, she was not so entrenched in her beliefs that she would seek comfort from her daughter. She would not needle proclamations from Rachel or ask for reassurance. She would simply respond as she might have if none of these thoughts had ever passed through her mind.
“Things have been a little insane lately, huh?” Cuddy said calmly. Rachel nodded her head, confirming what was apparent to anyone with eyes. “I know. And we haven’t spent much time together because of work and… everything else. It’s been a busy weekend. But being with House hasn’t been so bad, has it?”
Rachel thought about the question for a moment. Had it been bad to spend time with House? No… and yes. He’d bought her Froggie. That was nice. She liked Froggie. And he’d let her play in the snow. But they hadn’t made a snowman. That wasn’t as much fun. He made eggs that were yummy and let her eat two of the cookies she’d made with Mommy a couple days ago, and she got to watch all the movies she wanted, and that was fun. But… he was weird.
He talked about stuff she didn’t understand, used words she didn’t know. Sometimes Rachel was sure he was making fun of Mommy, but she didn’t really know, because she didn’t understand what it meant to say half the things he said. She was sure though that it was something dirty or bad or something she wasn’t meant to hear. She didn’t care really. It was just annoying that she didn’t know what he was talking about.
And while he was nice, he kind of wasn’t. He gave her toys and made her food, but he didn’t hug her when she throwed up. He wiped her face, gave her medicine and a drink of water, but he didn’t make her feel better. If Mommy had been here, she wouldn’t have done that. She’d have hugged her and kissed her and made her feel better. She wouldn’t have let go until Rachel had told her that she felt okay.
Even if House had done those things though, it wouldn’t have mattered. Rachel was slowly warming up to him, but he wasn’t Mommy. He would never be Mommy. He would always make weird jokes and say stupid things and be all House-y with his House-iness. He was fine, but he wasn’t the same thing. He didn’t even know how to read right! He was okay, but he still had a lot of work to do before he would even come close.
“I want you,” Rachel whined, reaching for her.
Cuddy welcomed her with open arms. “I missed you too,” she said, hugging Rachel close.
“So you’ll stay home with me tomorrow?”
“Maybe,” she conceded cautiously. “It depends on how you feel.”
“Please?”
“I’m not saying no, monkey.” She buried her face into Rachel’s dark locks and kissed her. “It just depends on a bunch of different things.”
It didn’t. There were really only two variables to take into consideration: Could Rachel go to school? Would House stay at home with her if not? If they were still together in the morning and he was willing and Rachel still felt sick, Cuddy would not take the day off.
Last night, she’d been afraid for Rachel, of the possibility of losing her. Because of that, Cuddy had been controlling, uninterested in letting go of Rachel even for a second. But House had been right (of course). Work would not allow her to take a step away right now. And ultimately… Cuddy didn’t want to step back. She’d spent the better part of her life cultivating her career. She was good at it, and she loved doing what she did, though this weekend might have been an exception to that. As much as she wanted to be with Rachel, Cuddy wasn’t prepared to do it at the expense of her job. She especially wasn’t ready to do that when he was waiting in the wings to help her without being asked. If they made it through the night and he didn’t resent her, she would rely on him again in the morning if necessary.
However, Cuddy would not tell Rachel that. There was just no way she would understand, and any explanation would only amplify any hurt she felt. Cuddy hated feeling as though she were lying to her daughter, as though Rachel was being led on. But what else could Cuddy do? Telling her the truth wasn’t an option; even if it was, there was no good way to say it. Of course, if something happened with House, well obviously, Cuddy would have no choice but to make the necessary sacrifice for her child. In that event, it would be stupid to tell Rachel now that someone else would watch her. And conversely, if things were okay tomorrow, there was no reason to upset Rachel with the truth right this second. She would figure it out soon enough in that case.
Knowing the misdirection was better than the truth, Cuddy attempted to refocus her daughter’s attention. “But you know what? I’m here right now. I’m all yours.”
“But I’m sleepy.”
“That’s okay. I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep. All right?”
Rachel shuffled on the bed as though she were equal parts uncomfortable and sleepy, fussiness starting to settle in. The temptation was there to soothe her, but Cuddy knew that tactic would backfire; when Rachel was like this, it was best to let her squirm about and whine until exhaustion silenced her on its own.
Thankfully that didn’t take long.
But when she’d finally relaxed underneath the covers, she didn’t fall asleep immediately as Cuddy would have thought. She was close obviously, heavy eyelids blinking at slow intervals. And yet… there was something on her mind that seemed to prevent sleep from coming. No matter how close she was to nodding off, each time, she would snap out of it.
After watching it happen several times, Cuddy quietly asked, “What’s wrong, honey?”
Rachel shook her head sleepily. “Nothing.”
“Are you sure about that?” Cuddy made sure to ask the question with a neutral tone. The last thing she needed was for Rachel to think that she was being accused of lying. “You seem a little upset.”
“No. I’m not.”
“Okay,” Cuddy told her in a gentle voice.
But in backing down, she inadvertently gave Rachel all the room she needed to speak up. Within seconds, she was confessing, “I don’t want to be their friend.”
“You don’t have to be. I promise. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. You don’t need to be around -”
“They said I was fat.” Her eyes bright and shiny, she no longer seemed tired. Weariness was apparent, but that just reinforced the overall impression she gave Cuddy: she’d been hurt by these children; they’d tormented her, their words continuing to resonate within.
“Don’t listen to them,” Cuddy stressed. “They are just… idiots who don’t know what they are talking about.”
Rachel frowned. “That’s what House said.”
Minutes ago, Cuddy would have felt a pang at hearing those words. Knowing that Rachel had gone to House, that he had heard about this first… it would have been devastating. And maybe that impulse hadn’t disappeared completely, but Cuddy was able to push past it.
“Well, he’s right,” she said without hesitation. “They are just silly little kids, and if they can’t see how beautiful and smart and wonderful you are, then -”
“They said you didn’t like me cause I wasn’t -”
“Rachel,” Cuddy interrupted instantly. “I love you.”
“They said you was pretty and I fat, and you didn’t like me cause of dat.”
“They’re wrong.” She said it with conviction, the sheer force of it making Rachel’s eyes wide with surprise. Reaching over, Cuddy stroked Rachel’s cheek. “Honey, you’re my daughter. There is absolutely nothing you can do that would make me not like you. Nothing. I love you no matter what. Anyone who says otherwise is an idiot.”
Cuddy knew she couldn’t stop there. It was one thing to reiterate just how much Rachel was loved. It was an important point to make. But ending her argument there might give Rachel the impression that Cuddy was saying she loved her even though she was fat. And that was not what Cuddy wanted her daughter to take away from this.
Continuing she said, “You’re not fat. You’re five. Your body is growing and changing, and there’s nothing wrong with that.” Rachel didn’t seem convinced. “You are a beautiful little girl. You have the prettiest blue eyes and the cutest little nose and soft cheeks.” Cuddy kissed her hair. “And even if you had none of those things,” she whispered. “I would still love you.”
“Okay,” Rachel said, perhaps feeling slightly mollified.
“Listen to me. I don’t want you to worry about what those kids said. They’re just looking for someone to pick on,” she explained. “It doesn’t matter what you look like or how smart you are or how funny or nice. They are sad children who aren’t happy unless they can make other people miserable.”
“I guess.”
“There will always be people like that,” Cuddy said darkly. The words already said once this weekend, she hated that she was now echoing them again. And part of her could only think that, if she had paid more attention to Rachel, the sentiment wouldn’t have needed expressing this second time. “Do you remember what I told you while we were making cookies?”
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), Chapter 19 (Part 1), Chapter 19 (Part 2), Chapter 19 (Part 3), Chapter 19 (Part 4), Chapter 20 (Part 1), Chapter 20 (Part 2), Chapter 21 (Part 1), Chapter 21 (Part 2), Chapter 22 (Part 1), Chapter 22 (Part 2), Chapter 23 (Part 1), Chapter 23 (Part 2), Chapter 24 (Part 1), Chapter 24 (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
The roads had glazed over once more with a solid sheet of ice. Harsh kernels of frozen snow and the remnants of road salt crackled under her tires as she carefully drove home in the dark. The rigors of work an uneasy ache in the back of her mind, it was the situation with House that seemed to bear down on her oppressively. Her focus remaining on the highway, the paperwork in her briefcase niggled at her attention. For as sure as she was that this was the right way to test him, there remained an inkling of doubt, a question of appropriateness she couldn’t entirely ignore.
Sitting in front of her lawyer, she had recognized the dangerous game she was playing.
What if House said yes? What if he said no?
Somehow this idea of hers, while guaranteed to work, was beginning to feel like a great way to destroy their relationship.
An hour ago, she had pushed through that hesitation anyway. Her attorney hadn’t been an idiot, had noticed that she was taking an unnecessary step here - meaning that she was purposely avoiding the more direct action. Cuddy had told him to do his job. But the closer she got to actually handing the papers to House, the more she felt that this was probably a bad idea.
If he said no, he would have been lying to her this whole time. Every insinuation that he cared about Rachel, that he would eventually care about her, would have been a lie. If he said no, how could they keep living together?
Then again, if he said yes… what would Cuddy do? She hadn’t set out this morning hoping to take this step with him. When the weekend had begun, she hadn’t thought it would create this catastrophe that ended with her questioning how he felt about her daughter. And if he signed the papers, she was not sure she was prepared to handle that.
How could she be?
He was making these claims - that he knew Rachel better than she did, that he loved her - when three days ago he could hardly bear to spend time with Rachel. Maybe he meant what he said; maybe he thought he meant what he said. But that didn’t make it any easier for Cuddy to believe much less accept. And in the end, he could say whatever he wanted, but she needed proof. She needed to see it and know that it wasn’t just an act, wasn’t just a way to manipulate her.
But not for a second could he know he was being tested. If he knew she was questioning his motives, he would be angry. If he didn’t mean it, he would get defensive to protect his lie. If he were earnest, then her doubt would crush him, would probably be the end of them.
And yet, even knowing that, Cuddy understood she had to see this through. Regardless of the consequences, she needed to know how he felt. She would never outright believe what he said, not when it came to something as important as her child; she needed to see it.
She had a right to.
In the hours away, this was the conclusion that she had come to: she had a right to want proof, to be suspicious and non-accepting of anything less than concrete. She hadn’t been perfect by any means these past twenty-four hours. She had been riled up with fear and frustration, fueled by their never-ending problems. She wasn’t so entrenched in her thinking that she couldn’t see the mistakes she’d made. But she wasn’t wrong to hold House to a higher standard when it came to her daughter. Maybe it wasn’t fair to be so suspicious; maybe she had wrongly lashed out - okay, she’d definitely been wrong to pick fights with him last night. With Rachel though, Cuddy had a right to be cautious. Her daughter only deserved as much.
Unfortunately, Cuddy wasn’t sure House would appreciate that. When all was said and done, after he’d made his feelings clear, she didn’t know that he would respect her motivation. Because she’d been so… insane, she feared that he would judge her far more harshly for her rational choices.
She supposed she had earned that.
As crazy as she’d been, he had every right to react that way. Hours of work had robbed her of the intense energy that made that fact hard for her to see. Forced outside of the home, she had eventually, hours afterward, been able to focus on something other than House and Rachel. The stress of work had been an outlet, the constant text messages from House about Rachel’s health a welcome reassurance. And though Cuddy felt that insanity lurking inside of her body still, she was calmer now. Well, that might have been overstating it; she was tired now. But her exhausted state was working for her.
At least, it had been; the closer she got to home, the less and less true that seemed to be. For a brief moment, it had seemed like she could properly view her behavior. Now though she was beginning to think that what she’d experienced had been nothing more than a slight reprieve from her insanity. Because the longer she drove, the more she began to think that she was making the wrong choice, the more fear began to take over once more.
By the time she pulled into the garage, she felt like she was on the verge of a panic attack. If this went wrong, she would have to deal with why House had lied to her. If it went really badly, there would be no dealing with him on a personal level ever again. And if by chance he had meant everything he’d said… she didn’t know what she would do.
All she could think of, when she imagined that scenario, was that she wasn’t ready. She didn’t want to share Rachel. She didn’t want to have him… interfering, making himself look like the hero in every scenario, as though she didn’t have enough to worry about when it came to her daughter.
In her head, she recognized how childish it sounded, but Cuddy didn’t care. Selfishly, immaturely, she worried what his intrusion might do to her relationship with Rachel. The very possibility of it changing terrifying her, Cuddy was horrified that his presence might mean something awful for her. She’d fought a long time to have a child, much less love one, and just the idea that House could come in now and render all of that hard work useless… made her angry.
He wouldn’t have to do half of what she’d done to have Rachel in her life. But he would reap all of the reward for her hard work. He’d be the one who got to have all the fun with her; the actual parenting would be left to Cuddy, but he’d be the one Rachel would end up preferring. He would never punish her; he would never tell her no. Any time he tried to stand up to her, he would back down and reward her with whatever it was she wanted. Cuddy would do her best to make sure Rachel turned out somewhat decently, but that would breed resentment in her daughter.
And that was what scared her most of all. It wasn’t that House would have a much easier time gaining access to Rachel. It wasn’t that he would relate to her in a way Cuddy would not. It was that Cuddy would become the harsher parent, the one to push and punish, a singular bulwark against complacency and bad behavior.
In other words, House’s increased presence would turn her into her own mother.
Childish or not, Cuddy didn’t want that.
But if he signed these papers, if he meant what he’d said, she would have to give him a larger role and accept her new one. Or he would lie or refuse to sign or she wouldn’t let him, and they would break up.
For a brief moment, she considered forgetting the whole thing altogether. Would it really be that hard to pretend she had never gone to her lawyer’s? Would it be that difficult to simply say to House that she’d been upset about Rachel’s health and leave it at that? She thought the answer was no. She also thought that it didn’t matter; this issue would come up again sooner or later.
Eventually they would have to address these concerns. And the longer they waited, the more fights they would have; the closer Rachel would get to him, the harder it would be to resolve this argument honestly.
No, she thought as she stepped out of the car. It was for the best that they do this now… whatever the consequences might be.
Obviously knowing that didn’t make the choice any easier. The second she entered the house, that was perfectly clear.
This wouldn’t be easy.
That was never more apparent than when she found both Rachel and House asleep on the couch in the living room. He had an arm behind his head, another clutching a book to his chest. The glasses he’d worn were still on his face, and resting on top of him and the book was Rachel. Cuddy couldn’t be sure if he’d willingly let her sleep on his lap or if she’d climbed up after he’d become unconscious. But what was going on before her painted a picture Cuddy couldn’t deny.
They were becoming close.
Whether House meant it or not, Rachel was responding to his increased attention. Even though they had a volatile relationship, she was clearly welcoming this change, momentary or not. She was accepting enough that once again, Cuddy questioned her own rightness in the situation.
Really, if he could adjust to Rachel being in his life, if her daughter could embrace him, then what was her problem, Cuddy wondered. Why was she the only one who seemed to have any issue with the way things were going?
Because she was the only true adult, a voice inside whispered. Because she lived with two children, neither of whom were capable of or interested in considering the ramifications of their actions. They just did what they wanted, and when it went wrong, they both came to her to fix it. They didn’t care enough to avoid problems; they simply believed she would take care of whatever went badly. Knowing that, they had no reason to worry about what they did. And she had every reason.
Bearing that responsibility wasn’t easy. But it was obviously all hers, as no one else would ever shoulder some of that burden for her. And it might have felt awful to have to ask the questions that could destroy them, but again, it was her job to do so. No matter how much she cowardly wanted to pretend like none of this was happening, she didn’t have that option.
She had to question this; she had to challenge it, because no one else would.
No one else was going to ensure that this was a healthy, meaningful, honest development. As always, she was the only one who would do that. And as hard as it was going to be, once again, Cuddy told herself that it was necessary, that avoiding this issue was impossible. If not today, at some point, she would need to know that House actually cared about her daughter, that they could be a family in a way that wasn’t built on a lie, that wouldn’t hurt her relationship with Rachel. So why not today? The sooner she did this, the better it would be for all of them.
If only that made it easy, she thought, setting her briefcase down next to the couch. As she stood back up, she taken by surprise.
Rachel’s eyes were wide open and looking at her.
Smiling, Cuddy said quietly, “You’re awake.” Rachel nodded her head enthusiastically. “I thought you were sleeping. It’s past your bedtime.”
“I’m not tired.” Unconcerned that House was asleep, she was louder than she needed to be.
“Shh.” Cuddy held a finger up to her lips. “House is sleeping, so we need to be quiet, so we don’t wake him up.”
At that point though, Rachel was no longer listening. Shifting on top of him, she was too busy trying to climb off of him. Instantly Cuddy could see the potential danger; one wrong move, and House could have been woken with Rachel’s hands, elbows, or knees digging into his thigh.
Quickly Cuddy reached for Rachel and carefully picked her up. “I got you,” she said in soft tones. “Let’s try not to kill House tonight.”
Rachel relaxed in her arms almost immediately. Although she’d claimed not to be tired, she was inadvertently making it obvious that the late hour was wearing on her. Her head on Cuddy’s shoulder within seconds, she was clearly ready for bed. Nevertheless there was just a touch of energy left in her, enough fight that she would not go to sleep easily.
However, Cuddy thought that might have been for the best. Having not had much of an opportunity to talk to her at all, Cuddy wasn’t ready to put her to bed right away. She would have, had it been necessary, but Rachel didn’t seem cranky enough to be truly exhausted.
“How about you help Mommy change?” Cuddy suggested. “You can tell me what you did today.”
Rachel lifted her head. As they disappeared down the hallway, she started to talk. “We watched movies, and I got to eat a cookie cause I taked my medicine, and I slept a lot.”
“I’m assuming he gave you more than cookies.”
She frowned as Cuddy dumped her onto the bed. “He made me eat vegetables.”
“Oh you poor baby,” she said lightly, her fingertips tickling Rachel so she laughed. Kissing her cheeks, she told her, “Not vegetables.”
Giggling Rachel rolled away. “Mommy, stop. No more tickles.”
“All right. I’ll stop.” Hand on her back, Cuddy patted her daughter softly. “Do you feel better today?” Rachel nodded her head slowly. “You get sick at all?”
Her cheeks turned red. Her body shifting on the bed, she was obviously uncomfortable - ashamed to answer the question. “Twice,” she said eventually. “I throwed up.”
Cuddy leaned down and kissed her once more. She wasn’t surprised that Rachel had gotten sick; glucagon could have the side effect of vomiting, and Rachel was so small that any major shift in her glucose levels could leave her reeling. The problem with that was not that it came as a surprise but that any denial of nutrition could easily send her back into a hypoglycemic state.
“House check your blood sugar?”
“Uh huh.”
“Good. How’s your tummy feel now?”
Rachel shrugged. “Okay.” The way she said it, it sounded like it didn’t matter to her. Not out of a lack of concern, the words had been uttered that way, because she knew, even at her young age, that this problem would never go away. There would always be needles, always be pills and emergencies and late nights and bad days that followed.
For Cuddy, that fact was never far from her mind. For a five year old, it must have been the kind of burden that made the world seem like it was ending.
Climbing onto the bed, Cuddy laid down next to her daughter. Close to her, Cuddy told her honestly, “I’m sorry, Rachel. I know it’s been a bad weekend.” Her fingers tucking a stray lock of hair behind Rachel’s ear, she added, “I promise you we’ll do something fun soon.”
Whether Rachel believed her or not was hard to say. Cuddy would have liked to be convincing, but she understood that that was difficult considering they both knew things would never be permanently better.
If that thought was on Rachel’s mind though, she never let on. Instead, she asked sweetly, “Do I have to go to school tomorrow?”
“I don’t know. Maybe,” Cuddy said diplomatically. “It depends on how you feel and if there’s school to go to. I think you might have a snow day.” Rachel’s lips split into a wide grin. “Maybe,” Cuddy repeated. “Don’t count on it.”
“Then I don’t think I feel good. I might throw up again.”
“We’ll see about that.” Cuddy started to pull away. “I’m going to get changed.”
As she sat up though, Rachel’s eyes caught sight of the pearl necklace swaying lightly around her neck. “They look like gum balls,” she pointed out.
“Oh?” Cuddy didn’t know what she was talking about at first. Her gaze following the line of Rachel’s sight, it took her a moment to figure out what Rachel meant.
Fingering the necklace, Cuddy agreed. “They kind of do. Although you wouldn’t want to try eating these,” she said standing up. “They’d break your teeth.”
“Can I play with them?”
Cuddy reluctantly took off the necklace and handed it to her. “Be careful with them. That belonged to your great grandmother.”
“What does that -”
“Nana’s mother. My grandmother,” she explained, heading to her dresser to take off her earrings. “Shocking though it may be, Nana was not hatched from an egg and raised by wolves.”
She paused on the suit button she had in her grasp. Looking back at Rachel, she could see that her daughter was only partly paying attention; she was too busy rubbing the pearls between her palms to truly listen. But just on the chance that Rachel had picked up what she’d said, Cuddy immediately added, “Don’t repeat that to her.”
Rachel didn’t say anything. The subtle clank of pearls and the rustle of Cuddy changing were the only sounds to be heard - at least until Rachel exclaimed a few minutes later, “Ow!”
Finishing pulling on her pajama pants, Cuddy turned around just in time to see the pearl necklace winding down from being swung. The angry red mark on Rachel’s hand painted a clear picture. She’d been twirling the necklace violently and gotten hit on the hand.
“What did I just tell you?” Cuddy went back to the bed and carefully pried the pearls from Rachel’s fist. “If you can’t be gentle, you can’t play with it.”
“My hand,” Rachel said sadly.
Cuddy ran her fingers over Rachel’s red knuckles. “I think you’ll be okay.”
“It stings.”
She leaned down and kissed the back of Rachel’s hand a few times. “Is that a little better?” Rachel shook her head, so Cuddy pressed a few more kissed into the soft flesh. “Now?”
“A little bit.”
“Good.”
She let go of Rachel and quickly placed the pearl necklace on her dresser. Turning back to her daughter, Cuddy motioned for her to get up. “All right, monkey. I think it’s time for you to go to bed.”
She expected resistance. Though there was no way Rachel could win this battle, Cuddy had anticipated a fight anyway. But tonight, Rachel sat up without hesitation. Tiredly rubbing at her eyes, she let Cuddy pick her up.
“Are you sleepy?”
“Some.”
“House give you a bath today?” Rachel nodded her head. “Did you brush your teeth?” There was another nod. And since she was already in her pajamas, Cuddy was relieved that she could just put her daughter in bed without any stops along the way. It made things simpler, meant that Cuddy herself would be able to sleep sooner than later.
Well, at least that was what it meant usually. Tonight she wasn’t so sure that was the case. She still had to discuss things with House. So perhaps it was smarter to say that being able to put Rachel into bed straight away meant Cuddy could save her energy for the fight she knew would happen later. But in the end, even that turned out to be false.
As she tucked Rachel into her bed, Rachel admitted, “I didn’t eat dinner.”
Cuddy sat back on the mattress unsure of how to proceed. “Tonight or -”
“At the party.”
Given how low Rachel’s blood sugar had been, the information was only surprising in that it was being admitted to at all. In Cuddy’s mind, the truth was something she would have to force from her daughter with bribes and threats. And the thing about that was she hadn’t even considered having this conversation yet. Selfishly enough, Cuddy had only focused on her situation with House. She hadn’t thought about her daughter at all.
Disgust with herself didn’t even begin to cover it. The way she felt, there were no words for the amount of self-loathing in Cuddy at that moment. Although there were times when Rachel took a back seat to other things in Cuddy’s life out of necessity, in this case… it was inexcusable. Because it was one thing to be busy with work, to be so consumed with saving a life that a babysitter needed to be called; it was another to barely think about her daughter within twenty-four hours of a medical emergency.
It was unforgivable.
As understandable as it was for Cuddy to be obsessed with House’s behavior, she knew she should have resisted that temptation. Work and him and all the other problems she’d faced were nothing compared to her daughter. She should have never even seemed to have forgotten that. But after each and every text House had sent her way that day, reassuring her that everything was fine, she had believed him; she had refocused her attention on other things.
And she should not have done that.
At that moment, there didn’t seem to be enough space within her for the guilt she felt. As though her organs and bones were being crushed by shame, she found herself frozen to respond. She had screwed up so badly, let down her daughter in ways Rachel didn’t understand but surely would if Cuddy kept behaving like this.
“Are you mad?” Rachel asked, obviously scared by her mother’s silence.
That snapped Cuddy out of her daze. “What? No.” She shook her head. “Of course not. Not at all.” Scooting up on the bed, she laid her head down on the pillow. Face to face with Rachel, she said carefully, “I’m just… curious about what happened. Because I know you’re a smart little girl and you wouldn’t do that without a reason.”
Rachel fidgeted, twisted the sheets in her tiny hands. “I don’t wanna say.”
“I know. I know,” Cuddy said, smoothing her daughter’s hair back. “I’m not mad. I promise you: no matter what happened, I’m not going to get mad. I just want to know the truth. Okay?”
Rachel wasn’t sure if she should believe Mommy. Sometimes when adults said they wouldn’t get mad, they did anyway. Maybe Mommy wouldn’t be angry, but there was a good chance she would, and Rachel didn’t want to get in trouble. But not telling the truth wasn’t an option, because Mommy would get mad if she lied, and she would get mad if she said she didn’t say anything, and Rachel thought at that moment that there seemed to be an awful lot that made adults unhappy. No matter what, Mommy wouldn’t be pleased, and Rachel really didn’t want to say anything.
She didn’t want to talk about what happened. She’d already done that once today, when stupid, stinky House had forced it from her. She didn’t want to repeat what had happened, how they’d locked her in the closet and called her fat and ugly and how she hadn’t been able to listen to it, again. She didn’t want to cry no more, didn’t want to talk about it if Mommy was just gonna insist that those poopy faces were friends cause they wasn’t.
But then maybe Mommy wouldn’t say that. Maybe if Rachel told her the truth, she would realize just how annoying and dumb those guys were. Maybe Mommy wouldn’t ever make her play with them again!
If that wasn’t a reason to talk, Rachel wasn’t sure what was.
“They locked me in the closet,” she said angrily. “They -”
“Who are ‘they,’ Rachel?”
She whined loudly in frustration. Mommy instantly tried to shush her, but Rachel batted her hands away. She didn’t want to be shushed; she wanted to tell the truth and then never talk about it again.
“Those stupid guys!” she snapped. “All dem. Nevaeh and George and all of them!”
“The kids at the party last night.”
“Yes. They locked me in a closet.”
Mommy looked confused. “Why would they do that? Are you sure they didn’t accidentally -”
“I’m not lying,” Rachel said, pouting.
“No, I’m not saying you are. I just don’t understand why -”
“Because they hate me. That’s why. They say it all the time. They hate me. Cause they think I’m fat and ugly and stupid and a baby, and they hid my dinner, and they hate me. And I hate them.”
Mommy didn’t say anything at first. Rachel thought that was probably a good thing. Cause if she said something right away, it usually meant that she thought Rachel was wrong or had lied or something like that. But if she was quiet, then she was listening, and that was good, Rachel thought.
When she did speak, it was clear Mommy did believe her. Because she didn’t accuse her of lying or accidentally getting locked in the closet or anything along those lines. She just asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
But that was almost as bad as not believing her, cause Rachel had tried to tell her. “I did. You was busy.”
Cuddy did her best to recall the night before and whether that had happened. She didn’t think her daughter was lying, but she wanted to make sure that Rachel actually had tried to approach her.
Try as she might though, she couldn’t think of anything. Cuddy hadn’t seen Rachel at all after dinner, so if it had happened at all, it would have been before. There’d been the incident at dinner, of course, but Rachel hadn’t been interested in the truth then, because she’d said she’d eaten her dinner. She’d lied; she hadn’t given any indication that there’d been something she’d wanted to discuss.
And then Cuddy remembered: there’d been a moment when Rachel had tugged on her leg, had tried to get her attention. She’d tried to say something while Cuddy had been talking to someone else….
Cuddy hadn’t listened.
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I am. I was just -”
She cut herself off before she could finish the sentence. How was she going to finish it that made her inattendence okay? “I was just talking to someone else”? “I was too busy with work to listen”? No matter how she worded it, it sounded awful even in her own head. And that was perfectly understandable, because it was awful.
She’d been focused on work while her daughter had been tormented. Right? That was what had happened. Rachel had been locked in a closet, called all those names…. The sheer level of hatred those children seemed to have for her disturbed Cuddy, disgusted her.
Part of her wanted to believe that Rachel was exaggerating or that this was an isolated incident. But how could it be? If those children had been willing to behave like that in a house swarming with adults, what would they do, what had they done, when adults hadn’t been around?
And while they’d been locking her daughter in the closet, what had Cuddy been doing? She’d been too busy talking to someone whose name she couldn’t even remember a day after the fact.
Even if that hadn’t occurred, Cuddy suddenly remembered all the attempts Rachel had made prior to the party to get out of going. She’d said… many, many things that upon reflection Cuddy couldn’t believe she’d ignored her up until this point. No, she knew then; this was not an isolated moment, a rare fight between friends. This had been happening for a while if Rachel had been that desperate to avoid being anywhere near those children.
“I’m so sorry,” she repeated, hugging Rachel close to her. “That shouldn’t have happened to you.”
Her voice mumbled, Rachel said, “I don’t wanna be their friend.”
“You don’t have to be. I promise you.” Cuddy patted Rachel on the back. “I’m sorry you couldn’t tell anyone. I -”
“I told House,” Rachel interrupted in a way that was somehow equally conversational as it was pointedly aimed at her.
Cuddy didn’t consider Rachel’s tone or what it might have meant. She simply heard the words and reacted.
Before she could stifle the question, she asked, “Why would you tell him?”
Instantly the mood in the room shifted. Understanding and sympathy were replaced with defensiveness and coolness. Where Rachel had been willing to express herself before, now she looked up at Cuddy as though there was nothing left to say. Like she’d been slapped in the face, Rachel seemed embarrassed, upset, sure that she had done something wrong.
Cuddy could see it in her features. The question had made Rachel think she’d misbehaved by telling House what had happened. There was no denying it - especially when Rachel pulled away and asked quietly, “Was I not supposed to?”
The question put everything into perspective.
Cuddy hadn’t wanted to share her daughter with House. She’d worried, as she still did, that, if that were to happen, she would end up being the marginalized one, the parent with little affection from her child. Fearful of that, she’d done her best to protect that relationship from House. Even as she’d told him he needed to try harder, she had walled off many of the responsibilities he might have otherwise shouldered. She’d purposely, if only subconsciously, kept the distinction between her and him, so that he could never encroach upon her territory.
She didn’t want to believe that was what she’d been doing; it was odd and difficult to reflect on her behavior the last few years and think that she’d been doing that. Not a particularly unaware person, Cuddy thought it perplexing that she could have been so ignorant to something that obvious.
But clearly, she hadn’t known.
Or if she could have known, she had chosen not to see the truth.
Now though the truth was apparent to the point that it felt like a physical presence weighing on her mind. She’d been pushing House away.
Perhaps she could accept that on its own terms. Certainly, he had brought it up to her before, and she had ignored his complaints time and time again. But she could no longer ignore it because of Rachel.
Because Rachel was starting to think that she was doing something wrong by getting closer to him. She felt guilty for confiding in him. She was acting as though she’d been bad.
And as terrified as Cuddy was to share her with House, she knew:
She couldn’t let Rachel feel that way.
She couldn’t harm her child to keep things as they were.
She couldn’t refuse change, because to do so would be to teach her daughter to be ashamed of getting close to new people.
She couldn’t continue as she was, because it was wrong.
Rachel’s guilt now mirrored in her own eyes, Cuddy swallowed hard. Her voice shaky, she tentatively said, “No. You didn’t do anything wrong.” She shook her head, emphasizing a point that made her anxious to even say. “I’m just….”
What she wanted to tell her was she was sorry for not being the person Rachel could talk to. But midway through the thought, Cuddy reconsidered. If - and it was an if still - House was going to play a larger part in Rachel’s life, it couldn’t seem like he was a back up for Cuddy. It couldn’t be that he was only good to confide in when there was no one else to talk to. That would be a disservice to all of them. Again, it was still unknown how the night would go. If he’d been faking it this whole time, Cuddy would… have no choice but to cut him out. If he’d been manipulating her, that was it. But if he could demonstrate that he’d behaved with honest intentions, she would have to change some of her own patterns. And that had to start now. Because she wouldn’t be able to fix the problem if she spent her time now teaching her daughter that House was either bad or barely acceptable for her.
“Surprised,” she finally finished, forcing herself to ignore whatever doubt she had about House for now. “I didn’t think you liked him very much.”
Rachel relaxed on the bed. The guilt in her eyes slowly melting away, she shrugged after a moment. “He made me eat carrots. In soup.”
“Hmm,” Cuddy murmured in understanding. “But they’re good for you.”
“They was yucky and hot and mushy.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”
“Uh huh. It was. And I don’t want no more of it.”
“Any more,” Cuddy lightly corrected. “I’m sure House just wanted to get rid of the soup, but I will let him know that you don’t want any tomorrow.”
Rachel looked at her carefully. “He’s gonna stay wif me tomorrow?”
That hadn’t been what Cuddy meant, not exactly. She hadn’t thought at all about what would happen tomorrow. There was still so much left to do tonight that the idea of the sun coming up the next morning was far beyond Cuddy’s comprehension at the moment.
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “Maybe. It depends on -”
“I don’t want him.”
“Why not?” Tiredly she wondered if this was going to lead to further discussion about how House had made Rachel eat carrots.
But that wasn’t what Rachel said in response - thankfully.
“Cause I don’t wanna,” she whined. “I want you.”
Once again Cuddy was faced with still more proof that she had been wrong all along. She’d been convinced that House would be the one Rachel wanted to spend time with, because he let her do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. But maybe... that wasn’t true.
Thinking about it now, Cuddy supposed it was idiotic to believe that a few days of fun could undo or match five years of nothing but love. To think that her relationship with Rachel would suffer because of House’s involvement… nothing seemed further from the truth at that moment.
A doubtful part of her wasn’t sure it was wise to throw herself head long into this realization. She could still end up being right in the end; maybe things didn’t change after a few days. But after a couple years? Dynamics could shift, sure. If House kept up this behavior, if he further ingratiated himself into Rachel’s life, why wouldn’t he quickly become the favorite?
Again, Cuddy didn’t deny the childishness in these thoughts. She was well aware of the immaturity, of the egotism necessary for these kinds of ideas to thrive within her mind. But there was a difference between recognizing that and changing, between understanding and acting.
It didn’t matter that she could see how infantile her thoughts were. At the end of the day, that didn’t reassure her. That didn’t make her think there was no problem here. And without that security, it was impossible to dismiss those ideas outright.
All of that said, she was not so entrenched in her beliefs that she would seek comfort from her daughter. She would not needle proclamations from Rachel or ask for reassurance. She would simply respond as she might have if none of these thoughts had ever passed through her mind.
“Things have been a little insane lately, huh?” Cuddy said calmly. Rachel nodded her head, confirming what was apparent to anyone with eyes. “I know. And we haven’t spent much time together because of work and… everything else. It’s been a busy weekend. But being with House hasn’t been so bad, has it?”
Rachel thought about the question for a moment. Had it been bad to spend time with House? No… and yes. He’d bought her Froggie. That was nice. She liked Froggie. And he’d let her play in the snow. But they hadn’t made a snowman. That wasn’t as much fun. He made eggs that were yummy and let her eat two of the cookies she’d made with Mommy a couple days ago, and she got to watch all the movies she wanted, and that was fun. But… he was weird.
He talked about stuff she didn’t understand, used words she didn’t know. Sometimes Rachel was sure he was making fun of Mommy, but she didn’t really know, because she didn’t understand what it meant to say half the things he said. She was sure though that it was something dirty or bad or something she wasn’t meant to hear. She didn’t care really. It was just annoying that she didn’t know what he was talking about.
And while he was nice, he kind of wasn’t. He gave her toys and made her food, but he didn’t hug her when she throwed up. He wiped her face, gave her medicine and a drink of water, but he didn’t make her feel better. If Mommy had been here, she wouldn’t have done that. She’d have hugged her and kissed her and made her feel better. She wouldn’t have let go until Rachel had told her that she felt okay.
Even if House had done those things though, it wouldn’t have mattered. Rachel was slowly warming up to him, but he wasn’t Mommy. He would never be Mommy. He would always make weird jokes and say stupid things and be all House-y with his House-iness. He was fine, but he wasn’t the same thing. He didn’t even know how to read right! He was okay, but he still had a lot of work to do before he would even come close.
“I want you,” Rachel whined, reaching for her.
Cuddy welcomed her with open arms. “I missed you too,” she said, hugging Rachel close.
“So you’ll stay home with me tomorrow?”
“Maybe,” she conceded cautiously. “It depends on how you feel.”
“Please?”
“I’m not saying no, monkey.” She buried her face into Rachel’s dark locks and kissed her. “It just depends on a bunch of different things.”
It didn’t. There were really only two variables to take into consideration: Could Rachel go to school? Would House stay at home with her if not? If they were still together in the morning and he was willing and Rachel still felt sick, Cuddy would not take the day off.
Last night, she’d been afraid for Rachel, of the possibility of losing her. Because of that, Cuddy had been controlling, uninterested in letting go of Rachel even for a second. But House had been right (of course). Work would not allow her to take a step away right now. And ultimately… Cuddy didn’t want to step back. She’d spent the better part of her life cultivating her career. She was good at it, and she loved doing what she did, though this weekend might have been an exception to that. As much as she wanted to be with Rachel, Cuddy wasn’t prepared to do it at the expense of her job. She especially wasn’t ready to do that when he was waiting in the wings to help her without being asked. If they made it through the night and he didn’t resent her, she would rely on him again in the morning if necessary.
However, Cuddy would not tell Rachel that. There was just no way she would understand, and any explanation would only amplify any hurt she felt. Cuddy hated feeling as though she were lying to her daughter, as though Rachel was being led on. But what else could Cuddy do? Telling her the truth wasn’t an option; even if it was, there was no good way to say it. Of course, if something happened with House, well obviously, Cuddy would have no choice but to make the necessary sacrifice for her child. In that event, it would be stupid to tell Rachel now that someone else would watch her. And conversely, if things were okay tomorrow, there was no reason to upset Rachel with the truth right this second. She would figure it out soon enough in that case.
Knowing the misdirection was better than the truth, Cuddy attempted to refocus her daughter’s attention. “But you know what? I’m here right now. I’m all yours.”
“But I’m sleepy.”
“That’s okay. I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep. All right?”
Rachel shuffled on the bed as though she were equal parts uncomfortable and sleepy, fussiness starting to settle in. The temptation was there to soothe her, but Cuddy knew that tactic would backfire; when Rachel was like this, it was best to let her squirm about and whine until exhaustion silenced her on its own.
Thankfully that didn’t take long.
But when she’d finally relaxed underneath the covers, she didn’t fall asleep immediately as Cuddy would have thought. She was close obviously, heavy eyelids blinking at slow intervals. And yet… there was something on her mind that seemed to prevent sleep from coming. No matter how close she was to nodding off, each time, she would snap out of it.
After watching it happen several times, Cuddy quietly asked, “What’s wrong, honey?”
Rachel shook her head sleepily. “Nothing.”
“Are you sure about that?” Cuddy made sure to ask the question with a neutral tone. The last thing she needed was for Rachel to think that she was being accused of lying. “You seem a little upset.”
“No. I’m not.”
“Okay,” Cuddy told her in a gentle voice.
But in backing down, she inadvertently gave Rachel all the room she needed to speak up. Within seconds, she was confessing, “I don’t want to be their friend.”
“You don’t have to be. I promise. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. You don’t need to be around -”
“They said I was fat.” Her eyes bright and shiny, she no longer seemed tired. Weariness was apparent, but that just reinforced the overall impression she gave Cuddy: she’d been hurt by these children; they’d tormented her, their words continuing to resonate within.
“Don’t listen to them,” Cuddy stressed. “They are just… idiots who don’t know what they are talking about.”
Rachel frowned. “That’s what House said.”
Minutes ago, Cuddy would have felt a pang at hearing those words. Knowing that Rachel had gone to House, that he had heard about this first… it would have been devastating. And maybe that impulse hadn’t disappeared completely, but Cuddy was able to push past it.
“Well, he’s right,” she said without hesitation. “They are just silly little kids, and if they can’t see how beautiful and smart and wonderful you are, then -”
“They said you didn’t like me cause I wasn’t -”
“Rachel,” Cuddy interrupted instantly. “I love you.”
“They said you was pretty and I fat, and you didn’t like me cause of dat.”
“They’re wrong.” She said it with conviction, the sheer force of it making Rachel’s eyes wide with surprise. Reaching over, Cuddy stroked Rachel’s cheek. “Honey, you’re my daughter. There is absolutely nothing you can do that would make me not like you. Nothing. I love you no matter what. Anyone who says otherwise is an idiot.”
Cuddy knew she couldn’t stop there. It was one thing to reiterate just how much Rachel was loved. It was an important point to make. But ending her argument there might give Rachel the impression that Cuddy was saying she loved her even though she was fat. And that was not what Cuddy wanted her daughter to take away from this.
Continuing she said, “You’re not fat. You’re five. Your body is growing and changing, and there’s nothing wrong with that.” Rachel didn’t seem convinced. “You are a beautiful little girl. You have the prettiest blue eyes and the cutest little nose and soft cheeks.” Cuddy kissed her hair. “And even if you had none of those things,” she whispered. “I would still love you.”
“Okay,” Rachel said, perhaps feeling slightly mollified.
“Listen to me. I don’t want you to worry about what those kids said. They’re just looking for someone to pick on,” she explained. “It doesn’t matter what you look like or how smart you are or how funny or nice. They are sad children who aren’t happy unless they can make other people miserable.”
“I guess.”
“There will always be people like that,” Cuddy said darkly. The words already said once this weekend, she hated that she was now echoing them again. And part of her could only think that, if she had paid more attention to Rachel, the sentiment wouldn’t have needed expressing this second time. “Do you remember what I told you while we were making cookies?”
Continue on to the rest of the chapter