julessunshine82

Underworld Duets @ The Triad 12/14 7 pm

2009-12-09T17:53:55Z

Tony Award Nominee Willy Falk To Host
UNDERWORLD: Duets, Dec 14 @ 7 pm The Triad

MTWorks is pleased to announce their third annual benefit event, UNDERWORLD: DUETS, hosted by Tony Award Nominee Willy Falk (Miss Saigon, Les Mis), under the musical direction of Matt Eisenstein (Bye Bye Birdie, Next To Normal). UNDERWORLD will take place on Monday, December 14th (7:00pm) at The Triad NYC (158 West 72nd Street).

Broadway's stellar understudies will share their funniest, scariest, most inspiring understudy stories and sing their favorite songs... this year in duets!

The understudies performing include and are not limited to:

Anne Berkowitz (August Osage County), Briana Carlson-Goodman (Hair), Tina Maria Casamento (Kiss Me Kate, Ntl Tour), Meghann Fahy (Next to Normal) Kaitlin Kiyan (Hair), Jaygee Macapugay (Imelda), Jessica Phillips (Next To Normal), Molly Ranson (August Osage County)and Doug Shapiro (Oscar The Musical, Iron Curtain).

Tickets are $30.00 (+2 drink minimum) and are now available online at www.mtworks.org. Tickets may also be purchased in-person at the Triad NYC 30min before show-time. For special group rates please contact Julie Griffith at 917-536-5737.

You can also visit www.triadnyc.com for driving/subway information.

Julie Griffith is the event producer.

Mismatch (Oneshot)

2009-11-06T03:27:34Z

Mismatch

By Jules

Rating: PG

Synopsis: Totally spoilery. House and Cuddy dance. Cuddy POV. 6.7

A/N: I really can't wait until Monday, so this is just my take on what might happen when House and Cuddy dance. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

“1980s!” Cuddy exclaimed as she spotted him across the dance floor. House was fully garbed in a 1780s coat, waistcoat, an incredibly frilly shirt and tuxedo pants that were hiked up into breeches. He stood out like a sore thumb with his white-powdered wig, annoyingly opposed to protocol and simple instruction, a non-conformist till the very end.

But most nagging to her despite his ridiculous, out-of-place costume, he looked good.

A moment of panic flashed across his face, and she was hard pressed to wonder if it was an honest mistake or if House was just screwing with her. She closed the distance between them, blaming the volume of Van Halen’s Hot For Teacher blaring from the Sony speakers.

Forced proximity.

Right. She knew it was her fault, he knew nothing and honestly, she didn’t have the heart to tell him that his incessant flirtation was no longer appropriate (not that it ever was), and yet she did nothing to stop the train wreck from happening. She grasped for the railing, holding on until the very second before they were both inevitably thrown off.

He leaned down, invading her space, and his grin spread wide, a fool to no one. “Apostrophe 8-0 is not specific to any century. A roomful of PHDs and no on thunk to question the dress-code.”

“Because they all have common sense.”

“Maybe. But they don’t know your penchant for men in stockings, now do they?” He sashayed a bit, and she couldn’t help but grin at his cocky, long-term knowledge.

“How much did you pay to rent those pants?” She brushed her hand across his hip, and she mentally slapped herself as she saw his eyes flicker. She had been so careful, so conscious not to touch him since he came back.

Damn those stockings.

“I got them out of Wilson’s suitcase,” he said proudly.

She screwed her lips. “That explains his unwitting absence.”

“Damn. You should see Wilson do Thriller.” He nipped at her exposed shoulder with his pointer and thumb, taking the unspoken permission to touch full speed ahead. “That does limit our dancing partners, now doesn’t it?”

“I was aiming for Mr. T before you showed up,” she said dryly, trying to veer the conversation back to safer ground.

House eyed the gynecologist from Hartford dressed as Mr. T. “Don’t let me stand in your way. I pity the fool that stamps on your dance card.”

“Shut up.” She pushed his chest, laughing despite herself.

House grinned roguishly, emboldened as he pulled a slip of paper out of his chest pocket. “Damn. Would you look at this? Your card is full, Cuddy.”

“What are you talking about? There are no cards! Let me see that.” She snatched the paper out of his hand. Her heart pounded as he watched her reaction like a hawk, and that’s when she knew: he had planned this. All of this. “House. House. Doctor ‘o Love. House. The daddy of my girls—House!”

“What? I got bored in the car,” he shrugged, his eyes bright and hopeful.

She swallowed. This was House pursuing her. Actively.

She didn’t know whether to be panicked or angry, and she couldn’t be excited.

“I’m not dancing with you all night.”

“Too bad. Your dance card says—”

“You made this out of Wilson’s prescription pad! It doesn’t count….and it’s not period,” she said lamely.

“It’s my period. What if I bat my lashes?” He took her hand.

“No.”

“Do extra clinic hours.”

“….no.”

“I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the conference.” He pulled her closer, lacing his fingers behind her waist. He silently pleaded, pressing her hips gently with his hands.

“For one dance?” She placed her arms on his shoulders. She always forgot how tall he was, but when he held her, she remembered that he was indeed a man. Despite his limp, he led; there was no fight for dominance or control. When he held her, she let him and reveled in being the woman in his arms.

“One dance.” He nodded as Cyndi Lauper’s voice filled the room.

“You are ridiculous.” He pulled her closer, the intimacy of dancing awkward and familiar. She tried not to laugh as a myriad of sensations washed through her. His body was taunt, his hands still and nervous against her waist.

She could feel his heartbeat.

She dared to look up at him, the awkwardness fading into bare longing.

“Yeah. But we’re finally dancing,” he whispered.

“Oh.” The song was already halfway over. There had been no crash; only a tragic, hard fall that she would pretend hadn’t happened afterward. She was selfish, and she would steal the moment for as long as it lasted. She leaned closer, letting her chin rest against his chest. She felt his lips in her hair, and she closed her eyes. “Do you remember….”

He pressed his hand against her lower back, and it didn’t matter that they were mismatched, dancing in different centuries, never together at the same time. “Yes.”

(Don't) Get Drunk With Ignited States!

2009-09-25T16:11:01Z

For those in the NYC area:

http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=157484041576&ref=mf

Help Meg Get Married!

2009-09-18T12:10:42Z

So the writer of MARRYING MED can't afford to fly into NYC to see his own show. However, there's EXTENSIVE fundraising going on to help get him here. I'm working on NYMF this year, and it's really a great festival that brings new musicals to the forefront. ANY amount helps. See the letter below.

Dear Friends:

I wonder if you might be able to help me. My Scottish musical comedy MARRYING MEG is to receive its world premiere at this year’s New York Musical Theatre Festival. The show, which I have been writing, on and off, for the last seventeen years (I’m a full-time TV scriptwriter normally), has been a real labour of love for me. It’s a genuine Scottish musical, written by a Scotsman (me!), adapted from a brilliant Scottish play (Alexander Reid’s The Lass wi the Muckle Mou) which is in turn based on two famous folk tales from the Scottish Borders. If nothing else, MARRYING MEG’s Scottish pedigree is secure!

Throughout its extensive development period, MARRYING MEG has reached the finals of three prestigious European musicals competitions, and arrives at this year’s New York Musicals Festival as the only show to have Cameron Mackintosh as one of its official sponsors. Living as I do in the Highlands, I cannot tell you what a thrill it will be finally to see MARRYING MEG staged in its entirety. And in New York of all places! The home of musical theatre!

MARRYING MEG is a fun show with a great big Caledonian heart, and I’m convinced it will appeal to almost anyone with an affinity for things Scottish. I really would like to think I’m bringing a wee bit of Scotland to the Big Apple. I know people say that in order to make your dreams a reality, you have to be willing to beg, borrow and steal. This fall I’m living out my dream. But after borrowing (and even stealing) all I could, I’m now giving begging a try! (Excuse me if I’m not very good at it yet.) Our production is faced with fundraising challenges this year, and while our first weeks of rehearsal have gone incredibly well, the final stretch of our rehearsals is tight. For our first weeks I was able to be with the cast and crew as they rehearsed the show, but now it seems that I will not be able to return to see the actual performances of the production due to cost.

Would you consider making a donation to our show? Every little bit counts, and donations through the website are 100% tax deductible. Plus, donors of $1,000 or more receives two tickets to one of our performances. (Now isn’t that reward enough?) We're also hosting a fundraising party on Thursday, 24 September from 7pm-10pm at Shoolbred's in NYC. Get details on Meg's Engagement Party here.

More information about the amazing cast and creative team, as well as clips from the show can be found at www.nymf.org/marryingmeg. Please also consider coming to see the show that I am so very proud of. Schedule and ticket information are below. With your support, Meg hopes that many a mickle maks a muckle!

With gratitude,
Mark Robertson

In the Hues of a Life (10/10)

2009-09-08T03:08:54Z

In the Hues of a Life
(10/10)
M
Synopsis: An exploration of Cuddy’s side of House’s recovery and hallucinations.
A/N: Last chapter! I totally had one of those crap, it’s over moments when I got to the last paragraph. However, I like the ending. I hope you do too. Shout out to thing1966 for the Lupus information. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!

* * *
Chapter 10

* * *

6:42 P.M. “Dr. Cuddy…and House.” Drew Billingsly frowned as they entered the boardroom together. Cuddy lowered her eyes. She didn’t want the entire board to know she had been crying, let alone fighting with House. She could practically feel House’s anxiety and agitation next to her, so she continued to focus on the dotted, white spots across the black marble table. She wanted anything but his certainty right now. Drew studied them a moment longer and then spoke gingerly, “Thank you for joining us under the circumstances.”

“Can we pop this out?” House snapped. “We have a patient.”

“Certainly. I understand that you two went against Minors orders for the treatment of your daughter, Dr. Cuddy.” Elliot Minors sat at the foot of the table, a solemn expression on his face that didn’t match the gleam in his eye.

Cuddy’s head shot up, revealing red-rimmed eyes and deep maternal anger. “His orders were not in the best interest of the patient. My daughter….the patient has….”

She swayed faintly, the air in the room unreachable. At that moment, she knew House was right. It was Lupus.

House took her hand, a tender gesture that confirmed what was had been gossip, speculation, and rumor for the past year. He looked at each board member, his eyes and voice frighteningly clinical as he continued to grip Cuddy’s hand. “Rachel Cuddy has been diagnosed with Lupus. We have started her on the N-SAIDS, but we need to run more tests for the steroid treatment, and this, good doctors of the board, is wasting our time.”

“Minors, you were going to send a Lupus patient to the clinic?” Billingsly took off his glasses and put them on the table.

Minors face deepened to a rich plum. “At the time, her symptoms were those of the common flu—”

“House is the expert, not you,” Billingsly cut him off. “His call takes precedence, especially when it concerns the child of one of our most valued administrators.”

“What?”

“We’re letting you go, Elliot,” Billingsly said simply. “It’s already been decided by a quorum vote.”

“This farce has gone on long enough. I propose Dr. Cuddy be reinstated as the dean of medicine immediately,” Wilson spoke quickly, flashing a small smile at his friends across the room.

Minors stood up, short and irate. “So you’re just throwing the death of a young intern under the rug? Forgetting that Cuddy lied, protected a drug addict, and allowed him to remain in employment here?!”

Cuddy leaned against House, the irony not lost on her that he was holding her up now. “None of us took that young woman’s death lightly. But it’s become clear that you are incapable of separating your personal grudges from professional ethics. In the last year, not only has Dr. Cuddy managed to convince me that she and Dr. House work well together; but I believe House’s continued sobriety has been a direct result of Cuddy and Wilson’s intervention. An unfortunate tragedy occurred. A life was lost. But in the middle of it, a life was saved. I want to continue saving lives. I second that motion.”

“Unbelievable. This isn’t a bureaucracy; this is a sick joke!” Minors screamed, slamming his hand down on the marble. He turned to House and Cuddy. “At least there’s karma. I’m glad I was wrong about your kid.”

Before Cuddy could react, House dropped her hand and slammed his fist into Minors’ face.

“Get security in here. I want Minors escorted out,” Billingsly ordered in to the speakerphone.

Minors curled on the floor, wheezing as he recovered. He glared at Cuddy as security lifted him off the ground. “You finally got what you wanted. Too bad you’re going to be miserable for the rest of your life.”

“Elliot, if you do not leave the premises now, I will throw you out myself,” Billingsly said icily.

“Go to Hell. All of you.” And with two jerks and hard shove, he was gone.

Unrushed, Billingsly sat down and adjusted his glasses. “All in favor—”

Before he could finish, a dozen right hands shot up in the air unanimously.

“Wait.” Cuddy stepped out of House’s protective shadow. “You have no idea how deeply grateful I am, but right now, my daughter needs me. I don’t think I’ll be able to run the hospital the way you need. I’m afraid I can’t accept.”

Hands dropped slowly, but House stepped back behind her.

“Wait. She needs a day to think about it.”

“House,” Cuddy turned around and glared at him.

“You need a day,” he said to her quietly.

She gritted her teeth. “Don’t speak for me.”

House lowered his voice and invaded her space. “I’m still your boss. You love this job.”

She hated that he was right.

As they stood at a stalemate, Billingsly took the opportunity to move. “In this one and only instance, we’ll go with Dr. House’s recommendation. Go be with your daughter, Dr. Cuddy. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

* * *

7:30 P.M. “I can’t believe you did that.” Cuddy slammed through the glass doors of his office. She couldn’t think straight. She wished she had hit Minors herself. But nothing made sense now: not her, not House, not anything that made up her semi-hopeful life. She was seeing red, the shades of a normal life destroyed by an overwhelming sense of helplessness.

Her life was medicine. But never had she dealt with illness head on like this.

“Hey.”

“What?!” She jerked as his hands came down around her shoulders.

Treading lightly, he pulled her slowly against him, whispering into her ear, “We caught it early. And she’s a tough, gnarly, little midget.”

“I just…. “ She leaned into him, letting him hold her briefly. “As awful as that man was, I wish Minors had been right.”

* * *

8:00 P.M. “The new meds have knocked her out. Once we get her regulated, you can take her home,” Thirteen said softly as Rachel slept.

“Thanks, Thirteen.” Cuddy forced a smile. The younger doctor left quickly, the tension palpable and uncomfortable between House and Cuddy.

“Go home. Get some sleep,” Cuddy said without looking at him.

She waited for the door to shut. Instead, the dragging chair came once again, and he planted it beside her. “Just because you’re going to be my boss again doesn’t mean I’m gonna do what you say.”

She stared at him dumbly. “I need…I need a drink.”

House smiled. “I can help with that.”

* * *

11:15 P.M. Wilson stopped in House’s office, catching a shadow sitting on the balcony. He pushed on the outside door and looked down. “House, I just wanted to—” Wilson stopped abruptly as he saw another shadow moving across the ground.

“Shh…” House whispered, fascinated by the movement. Cuddy was dancing with a silver flask in her hand. Stripped down to her slip, she moved with total abandon, lost to the darkness of the sky.

“Is she high?”

“Drunk,” House whispered, his eyes not leaving Cuddy.

Wilson nodded, stepping back out of the moonlight. “She’s had quite a day.”

“Yeah. Thought I’d give her a little memory loss before tomorrow.”

“I’ll check on Rachel later,” Wilson said quickly, embarrassed he had invaded such an intimate moment.

“Yeah.” House nodded, his features dark and unreadable.

“You wanna dance, Wilson?” Cuddy called out just before he slipped back into the office.

“And that’s my cue.” Wilson vanished.

“I’m gonna have to buy chains,” House growled as she teetered towards him. “C’mere.”

She fell down on his lap, straddling him. “Dirty.”

She pressed the bourbon to his lips, and he drank slowly.

“Hey.” He pushed the flask away and cradled her wobbly face.

“You talkin’ to me?” She smiled and rolled her hips into his.

He stilled her and made her look at him. Her eyes were glassy, fragile with booze and fear. He took a deep breath and said sincerely, “It’s…. going to be okay.”

She looked down, fidgeting with the creases in his t-shirt. “You’re freakin’ me out.”

“We can do this.” She shook her head, not hearing his words clearly.

“I can’t. There’s no way I’ll be able to do it all. She’s too little; she’ll need constant care. My hours here are unpredictable sometimes—”

“So we’ll figure out a schedule. You do mornings, Anna can cover the middle of the day, and I’ll get the evenings when you’re stuck in ridiculous, mind numbing meetings at the hospital.”

“You?” She held her breath. Tolerating a little girl because he…cared about her was one thing, but caring for a sick child day in and day out? He could hardly take care of himself sometimes.

“I have taken a pill or two in my day,” House said stoically. “I know the pros and cons. What to do, what not to do. What to look out for when things get…hairy. I’ll keep her safe. Besides, what’s the point in having a team if I can’t delegate authority and get out of work early?”

“You love me.”

“You’re drunk.”

“You do.”

“Stop thinking. Or keep thinking. I don’t really care. It’s all an evil plot for sex anyway.” House jutted his chin out stubbornly.

“Shut up.” She slapped his chest and proceeded to wrap her arms around his neck.

“I think they put it in the new hospital bylaws. House and Cuddy are institution.” House grinned and ran his hands down her back.

“I’ll break up with you anytime I want, you ass.” She leaned into him, her eyes closing with comfort and alcohol.

“No, you won’t.” He kissed her into her dreams, softly, with deep, unspoken love.

* * *
5 months later

Cuddy parked her car, grabbed her briefcase, and clicked her heels on the brick sidewalk leading up to her door. She stopped outside of her living room window, catching House and Rachel on the sofa unawares.

“Oh, dat’s HOT!” Rachel hid her face in House’s side as he put the last heating pad on her right knee.

“Too hot?” House lifted the pad a little, taking the pressure off her pink polka-dot pajamas.

“No,” Rachel said pointedly and swallowed. She smiled for House. “It’d make de bad bones all better.”

House put his arm around her lazily. “That’s what I like to hear, Rach: denial. It’s the most effective way to forget you’re completely miserable.”

“You warm your bad bone too?” Rachel lifted the hot heating pad and put on House’s bad leg. “Go away, bad leg, go away,” Rachel whispered and then looked at him pointedly.

House rolled his eyes but succumbed to the idea, as he usually did with her. Cuddy smiled to herself. “Why not. Go away, bad bones,” he spoke to Rachel’s knobby knees.

Rachel waited, and for a second, House thought something magical might happen. She sighed and looked at him. “It don’t listen. It ugly.”

“Yeah, I won’t be sporting Speedos anytime soon.”

Rachel touched the side of his face affectionately. “But you not ugly. Me and Mama love you a lot.”

“Sorry I’m late!” Cuddy breezed through the living room, her cheeks rosy and cold from the outside air. “What is this? Spa night with the girls?”

House guffawed and held out his hand for her. She dropped her briefcase and flew across the room, kissing Rachel on the forehead. She leaned up and met House’s waiting lips. He pulled her possessively into his lap.

“Rachel was having some joint pain.” Rachel yawned and leaned her head against House’s arm.

“No fever? You give her Prednisone?” Cuddy leaned forward and looked at Rachel’s drowsy eyes.

“Yes.”

“Antimalarial? Plaquenil?”

“Cuddy, yes.”

“Ibuprofen?”

“You put her pills out a month in advance.” House wrapped his arms around her, pulling her more securely against him. “We’re good here.”

“Yeah, we good,” Rachel mumbled as she fought to stay awake. “Shhh, Mama. Me and House watchin’ cartoons.”

Cuddy nodded, allowing the discussion to end as the bright animation of the characters flooded her senses. She watched the bird and the wolf chase each other, seemingly going nowhere but back together. She felt his eyes upon her; she turned and looked at him, seeing bright blue promises, eyes filled with nothing but time and love. The vibrant light from the TV continued to dance across the sofa, hiding Rachel’s pale, tired features, coloring her with shades of red, green, and yellow. Cuddy sighed against House’s chest, closed her eyes, and dreamt of their brilliant hues.

THE END

Almost puts House's cane to shame. Almost.

2009-09-07T01:22:42Z

So my lovely friend Kat whacked her leg. I never really go the full story, but she was hobbling around New York all summer on crutches, until this magical wonder came into her life:

I know, right? It's a retractable cane, kinda like those tiny dogs people carry around in their purses. So hot. Hugh Laurie is jealous.

I need to take a paragraph and discuss how sexy a cane is. Not just the cane, but the limp--the full package, if you will. Maybe I'm just a freak, but I totally find a handicap a complete turn on. Maybe it's just the submissive quality of being hurt or injured, combined with my horrible co-dependent nature to want to mother everyone (heh, that's another paragraph), but if you have a pimpin' cane, and know how to work it, and not necessarily let it work you, then you define sexy.

So Kat, no worries. Even when broke production companies in the middle of nowhere put you in on the 4th floor of housing, you will still be one smokin' mama with the pimp cane.

In other news, I saw District 9 and totally approve. It made me miss X-files, and it was a little too violent for me, but I thought it was very well done.

I start training for the NYMF festival soon. Should be fun--we have all the 9 to 5 and Mermaid people in shows. Should be a blast.

In the Hues of a Life (9/10)

2009-08-24T20:52:35Z

In the Hues of a Life
By Jules
(9/10)
M
Synopsis: An exploration of Cuddy’s side of House’s recovery and hallucinations.
A/N: ENJOY! And thank you for reading.

* * *
Chapter 9

* * *

6:45 A.M. “Mama?” Rachel worried her lip as she stared at the large, strange machines around her. The little girl shrunk back against her mother as a nurse she didn’t know began to tap a giant needle.

Cuddy caressed her dark hair and held her close. “Shh, baby. I need you to be a big girl for mama.”

Rachel shook her head and closed her eyes. “No. I don’t wanna.”

“It’s just gonna be a little prick, Miss Rachel,” the older nurse said gently as she took her arm.

“No!” Rachel screamed in pure terror.

“Here ya go, kid.” House stepped in front of the failing nurse and handed Rachel a red lollipop.

The little girl grinned and put it in her mouth. “Tank you, House.”

House took her hand quickly and inserted the needle into her wrist.

Rachel’s eyes widened when she realized what had happened. She looked at House accusingly and pouted. “Ow!”

“I know, I know. “ Cuddy kissed her forehead and pointed to the saline bag. “But look. All of the good medicines can get into your body now and make you feel better.”

House frowned as he taped the needle to her skin. He turned her little hand over slowly. “Her knuckles are white. I want to run some Lupus tests.”

* * *

7:20 A.M. “It’s not Lupus,” Cuddy said, following him down the hallway.

House swung through his side office doors. “We have to check.”

Thirteen handed her the consent form wordlessly.

“I won’t sign that.” Cuddy pushed the clipboard against House’s chest. He turned away from her and went into his office. She followed House through the glass doors. “It’s not. You said it never is. Find out what it really is like you always do.”

House looked down at his desk, shuffling through meaningless papers. “Cuddy, you’re not thinking clearly. Go be with your daughter.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Her volume rose, her voice catching.

House slammed down on his desk and finally looked at her. “I will. You are acting like an irrational, upset mother and have lost all objectivity.”

“You can’t make decisions for her. You are not her father,” Cuddy spat, her words harsher and full of more meaning than she intended.

House met her eyes. “No.”

“No.” Cuddy swallowed painfully.

“What is going on here?” Elliot Minors pushed through the door.

“We have a new case, Minors,” House exclaimed boisterously, cutting the tension. “Take a load off.”

Minors pointed behind him. “That’s Cuddy’s girl. Let me see her chart.”

House forced a fake smile and passed Rachel Cuddy’s chart to him. “I was just getting permission from Dr. Cuddy to run some blood tests for—”

“Waste of money. It’s a common cold, Dr. House.” He pushed the file back in his hands.

House scoffed, “A butterfly rash is not a symptom of the sniffles, Minors.”

“She can easily be treated in the clinic. You have more important cases to handle.”

“Are you kidding me—” Cuddy pushed into Minor’s space.

House grabbed her hand and pulled her back. “I disagree. We’re possibly looking at autoimmune or ortho—”

“I still want her moved. Mother Cuddy can check her in through the ER.”

House tightened his grip on her hand almost painfully. “Whatever you say, boss.”

Cuddy dug her nails into his skin. She had no idea what he was doing. “House—”

“Excellent. Since you’re here, I’ll have my assistant bring up a new case for you to get cracking on.” Minors exited the room smugly.

“What the hell did you just do?” Cuddy jerked away from him.

House shrugged and picked up the consent form. “Told him what he wanted to hear. Rachel’s not going anywhere. Now sign this.”

* * *

1:15 P.M. “What if she has something you can’t fix?” Cuddy asked quietly from the edge of Rachel’s bed.

House stood quietly in the doorway. “Then we’ll treat her as best we can. You know this.”

Cuddy nodded. “What if it’s not treatable?”

House took a step into the room. “We’ll take her home. We’ll deal.”

“You didn’t want this.” Cuddy turned around and smiled sadly.

“No. But it’s mine. You’re mine. We’ll deal.” And he reached for her.

* * *

3:00 P.M. “It’s not cancer,” Wilson announced, and Cuddy proceeded to fling her arms around him.

“Whoa.” Wilson nearly fell over.

“Keep your hands where I can see them, Wilson.” House scowled at him from the other side of the room. Wilson awkwardly let go of Cuddy.

He cleared his throat, “The quick onset seems viral.”

“Taub and Thirteen are checking the playground and the house as we speak.” House said as he paced.

Wilson stepped closer to him and whispered, “You should know that Minors is looking for you.”

Cuddy looked up from Rachel’s bed and stared at them.

“That’s not my concern right now.” House gritted his teeth.

“I get why you’re doing this, House.” He looked back at Rachel and Cuddy. “Hey, I applaud it. But the two of you are lucky to still be employed here.”

“I’m not going to let Cuddy’s kid receive sub-par treatment simply because of petty bureaucratic bullshit. None of this was her fault. Least of all Rachel’s.”

Wilson held his hands up. “Like I said, I applaud it. But you need to be prepared for the consequences. Minors has been looking for a reason since day one of his reign to get rid of the two of you. Don’t give him one.”

“So much for the support of the altruistic board. A child is sick and all you and Minors can think about is getting rid of the doctors who are trying to make her better,” House accused.

“I’m on your side, House.”

“Then open your mouth in those damn meetings. Prove it.”

Wilson nodded quietly. Before he left, he called out to both of them, “I hope you figure out what’s wrong with your little girl.”

Cuddy looked at House, waiting for his reaction.

There was none. He was watching Rachel.

* * *

5:15 P.M. “I thought I told you to move her.”

“And I thought you had a medical degree from an accredited university. My mistake,” House spat at Minors. Rachel’s fever had spiked an hour ago and she was having difficulty breathing.

Minors face turned bright red. “Move her now, or you’re out of here. I will see to it personally that your license is revoked permanently.”

“House! She’s seizing,” Cuddy cried from the doorway as she slammed down on the call button.

“Don’t you dare—” Minors sputtered as a team of nurses rushed past him.

“Get out of my way, Minors.” House shoved Minors out of the way and moved to the side of the bed.

Minors stewed in the doorway, ignored, and finally spun around. “It’s your funeral.”

“I need 8 milligrams of Lorazepam stat…” House ordered in a haze of white and gray.

* * *

6:05 P.M. “We have the blood work back.” Taub stepped into House’s office.

“And?” House took his reading glasses off.

Taub took a deep breath and said, “You were right.”

* * *

6:30 P.M. House pushed open the door to Rachel’s room. It was dark and the room was colorless. Cuddy sat in the corner in shadows, tired, her hair up in a mess of curls, and her make-up gone. “She’s sleeping.”

House smiled softly at her as he limped across the room. “Good.”

Cuddy leaned up. “She looks better. Don’t you think she looks better?”

House touched the back of her hair gently. “Yeah.”

She looked at him and frowned, his tenderness startling her. “House? What is it?”

He began quickly, “We caught it early. We need to put her on a NSAID, probably Ibuprofen to start and if that doesn’t take—”

Cuddy shook her head, not comprehending his words, “Wait. What are you telling me?”

House looked down but kept his hand on her hair. “Her blood work came back positive for SLE.”

She stared at him, shock hitting every pour of her being. He was the most brilliant person she knew, and yet, all he could do was sit there and tell her her daughter had Lupus.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Cuddy. It’s treatable. We can—”

“But not curable. She’ll have to live with this for the rest of her life. I don’t believe you!” Cuddy stood up, her face wet, her eyes blinded by outraged tears.

House, the man with all the answers, sat there dumbly, not having a clue what to say.

“House, Cuddy. The board is meeting. They want to see you both,” Wilson said at the most inopportune moment.

“Screw the board!” Cuddy screamed and hit the wall. House finally stood.

“It’s a bad time, Wilson,” he said, his eyes on Cuddy.

Wilson stood there awkwardly, looking down. “It’s in your best interest.”

“Wilson, get out of here,” House said, frustrated and crippled.

Cuddy finally pushed back from the wall. “No. Let’s go. Start her on the Ibuprofen.”

House took her hand. “You’re making the right decision.”

Cuddy nodded and gripped his hand. “I know. But you’re still wrong.”

In the Hues of a Life (8/10)

2009-08-23T18:00:40Z

In the Hues of a Life
(8/10)
M
Synopsis: An exploration of Cuddy’s side of House’s recovery and hallucinations.
A/N: A little time jump in this chapter. This chapter veers away from the Cuddy's job/board storyline, but never fear, it'll jump back in the last two chapters. Thanks for reading and enjoy!

* * *
Chapter 8
* * *

And so they continued on as employer and employee. Cuddy had been skeptical that it would work, let along work for nine months. In the beginning, they had been almost polite with each other.

Cuddy blamed their attempt at a functional relationship.

House just blamed the sex. Later, Cuddy would agree. (It really was too good to give up.)

It wasn’t until one of their patients almost died that they agreed to take the kid gloves off. They would yell, banter, debate, curse, and challenge each other to the answer.

The other fellows were almost obsolete.

And so time passed where their punishment turned into a life, where the harsh gray lines sparked with color and joy. Cuddy would never admit it to him or the board, but she was actually happy working at his side, solving impossible cases, and attending to the patients.

She almost forgot that someone else had taken her job. Almost.

It always hit her unexpectedly in the middle of the night; she would wake up gasping, the night terror seizing her when she realized her entire life’s work had been stolen.

But, House was off the Vicodin. He loved her; at least, she believed he did. He would laugh off his passion for her, but the way he clung to her when they made love only concluded one thing.

And Rachel was a little person now, laughing, talking, walking—a true extension of Cuddy’s heart. Cuddy didn’t know how House would fit into their lives. A love affair was one thing, but what they had was something different. He wasn’t just in her bed anymore. He was present in almost every aspect of her life.

Four months after his return, they stopped taking separate cars to work.

Six month after his return, the board cancelled House and Cuddy’s re-evaluation, pushing it back inevitably.

And eight months after his return, House sold his apartment.

* * *
6:15 PM “It’s never Lupus.”

“And that assumption is going to bite you in your ass one day.” Cuddy walked passed him, onto their porch. They had just solved a case of Bullous Pemphigoid, an autoimmune disorder that Cuddy had been convinced was Lupus.

House pulled at the back of her jacket. “Don’t be sore. You know I’m always right.”

Cuddy rolled her eyes and smacked his cheek with her lips. “You’re lucky, you brilliant ass.”

“That’s two asses in two subsequent sentences. You trying to tell me something?” House smirked.

“Come on. I want to play with my kid before she passes out.” Cuddy pushed through the front door into her, well, their home. There were still some boxes scattered around her entryway from the big move, but for the most part, his stuff had been melded in with hers.

“Rachel! Mama’s home!” Cuddy called out as they shook their jackets off from the cool spring Jersey air.

“Oh, Dr. Cuddy, Dr. House. Good evening.” Rachel’s nanny stepped out from the kitchen.

“Hi Anna, where’s Rachel?” Cuddy looked around expectantly.

“On the couch. She fell a sleep a couple of hours ago,” Anna spoke lowly.

House huffed, “Oh great. The little munchkin is gonna be up all night. So much for thirdzies.”

“Shut up, House.” Cuddy whacked him in the arm. She turned back to Anna. “Did you guys play this afternoon?”

“Not too much. I took her to the park for about 45 minutes this morning. She got tired and fussy so I took her home.”

Cuddy nodded slowly. “Okay, thanks Anna.”

“What’d she have to eat today?” House asked suddenly.

Anna and Cuddy looked strangely at him; he had never really spoken to the nanny before. “She had some milk and bananas around 3 o’clock.”

House took a step towards the living room and looked inside. The little girl was fast asleep on the couch, sucking her thumb. He turned back to the women. “You can go,” he said dismissively to Anna. Quickly, the nanny gathered her things and left.

House limped into the living room and hovered over the couch. Gently, he reached down and felt Rachel’s forehead. A few seconds passed and he nodded, satisfied. He turned back to Cuddy who was standing in the doorway smiling at him. He narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t say anything.”

“I didn’t.” She bit her lip.

“You’re thinking it.” He pointed at her.

She walked across the room and kissed him. “I’m glad you care about my little girl.”

House groaned. “You are such a woman.”

* * *

7:45 PM “No baf!” Rachel ran back into the living room in nothing but her diaper.

Cuddy followed her with a very displeased look on her face. “Rachel, you have to take a bath.”

“NO!” Rachel screamed, as she hid behind House’s easy chair.

“I’m going to count to three,” Cuddy warned. House turned the volume up on the TV.

“I stay heh.” Rachel stepped out from behind the chair and stomped her foot. She turned to House.

“I only help mute babies.”

“One.” Cuddy crossed her arms.

“No!” Rachel huffed, cheeks red, and crawled into House’s lap, burying herself in the side of his arm.

“Two.”

“Cuddy….”

“House, you’re not helping,” Cuddy sighed, exasperated.

House shook his head and met her eyes. “She’s warm, Cuddy.”

* * * *

11:15 PM “You think it’s the flu?” They stood in the nursery together, talking by nightlight. Rachel was asleep again, knocked out by Tylenol and her temper tantrum.

“Probably. Fever, fatigue. Breathing is normal though. If she starts having respiratory problems, we’ll take her to the hospital.”

She looked at him, trusting absolutely no one more, and crawled into the bed with Rachel. “I’m going to sleep in here with her.”

House rolled his eyes, clearly not happy with that idea. “Cuddy. This isn’t the last time she’ll get sick.”

Cuddy didn’t look at him but instead concentrated on pushing Rachel’s sticky, dark hair away from her forehead. “I know,” she said dismissively.

“Fine.” House left the room. Cuddy sighed and cuddled closer to her daughter. She hadn’t prepared for this with him. It fell into the category of too real, too permanent, too parental. The sting in the back of her throat wasn’t really there, she told herself, and she didn’t really care that he was incapable of finding a way to be a part of their family. She knew who he was; she had known from the beginning. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to swallow.

“Shit,” he swore quietly in the doorway. She looked up and stared at him. He had tripped. He held onto the doorframe, keeping himself from falling even further.

“What are you doing?” She whispered tentatively.

She heard the rug burn on the carpet and watched him plant four legs right beside the toddler bed. He finally plopped down and grumbled, “Needed a chair. You don’t expect me to sleep in a 4-foot long Barbie bed, do you?”

* * *

4:45 AM “House?”

“Yeah, kid,” House answered quickly. Cuddy kept still, her eyes shut as she realized he had never gone to sleep.

Rachel shifted in the bed and moved out of Cuddy’s arms. “‘On’t feel good.”

The weight on the bed shifted and released. “Does your tummy hurt?” He asked gently.

Rachel took a few deep breaths and answered, “No.”

“What hurts?” House pushed.

“Itchy,” she finally cried. House flipped on the bedside lamp.

“Cuddy—,” he raised his voice, but she was already sitting up.

“What is it?” She moved to the side of the bed. House was already standing with Rachel in his arms.

“We’re going to the hospital. Rachel’s got a rash.”

In the Hues of a Life (7/10)

2009-08-07T02:27:27Z

In the Hues of a Life
By Jules
(7/10)
M
Synopsis: Cuddy’s side of House’s recovery and hallucinations.
A/N: So after researching how complicated and freakin’ difficult it is to go about getting your medical license revoked and reinstated and all the board rules, etc., I decided to go for dramatic verses textbook. (Plus, it wouldn’t fit into a short story.) That said, I can’t wait to see how the show does it. Enjoy and thanks for reading!

* * *
Chapter 7

* * *

6:40 A.M. Their kisses dissolved, but they didn’t disconnect. She didn’t move, didn’t speak. Her heart was suddenly racing, and it felt like she was seeing the end. House held her a little firmer, as to ward off the reality of the outside world.

It worked for a moment.

She looked at him, the night between them, and touched the side of his neck. “I have to get dressed.”

He kissed her again. “Take that with you.”

The feeling lingered.

* * * *

8:02 A.M. When she walked into the hospital, several eyes shot in her direction only to quickly turn away. No doubt they had all seen the news, blasting the hospital and exposing House’s whereabouts the past three months. The lies had all been told in an effort to protect him, but as a result, she had only left herself vulnerable.

As she approached the board room, she heard the trickling of Elliot Minors’ filibuster tirade, already well underway.

“I think our course of action is clear. It’s a matter of trust. Cuddy kept House’s condition a secret from the entire hospital board. He should be let go immediately, and as for that woman—.”

“For God’s sake, Elliot.” Drew Billingsly rolled his eyes. “The meeting hasn’t even convened. We’ll at least wait for her to get here before we start firing anyone.”

Minors tightened his lips. “I don’t see why we need to wait. The dean certainly didn’t find it necessary for our approval to re-hire a mentally unstable drug addict.”

“I don’t think you want to play that card, Elliot.” Cuddy strode into the room, her head held high. Twenty-four eyes followed her to her seat.

Minors scoffed at her dignified appearance. “I see you finally decided to grace us with your illustrious presence. All I have to do is state simple facts to have the two of you removed from this establishment.”

Cuddy met every eye in the room, finally landing on Minors. She nodded succinctly. “Fine. Let’s deal with facts. How long have you known that Dr. House abused medically prescribed Vicodin for his leg?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Cuddy,” Minors spat. “Everyone kn—”

“Exactly. Everyone. We are all responsible for what happened three months ago. As the board of this hospital, it is our job to make known a problem if so suspected. Unfortunately, I was over 7 years too late. I believed too much in his genius, believed that it was stronger than his addiction. It wasn’t. I forgot that he was human. He had been asking for help—seeking alternate treatments—methodone, therapy, physical therapy. Nothing worked, but he tried. I could have let him go years ago. I didn’t. You could have forced me to even before then, but you didn’t. We fought for him. Because no matter what he does or says, he is a good man and does great things. We need him here. When he lost a member of his team without a tangible reason, he lost control, focus. He couldn’t control the habit—the genius couldn’t explain the senseless act. He began hallucinating Amber Volakis. He hallucinated an entire night…”

“He blamed everything but the Vicodin,” Wilson cut her off. Their eyes met, suddenly in this together.

“You knew about this, Dr. Wilson?” Billingsly raised his eyebrows.

“I drove him to get help.”

Cuddy gathered herself and refocused. “Due to the personal nature of House’s last hallucinations, Wilson and I decided it would be best to keep his condition private.”

Billingsly frowned, clearly saddened and unhappy. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “You’re right. Something like this can’t be blamed on one person. I appreciate your honesty, Dr. Cuddy. Unfortunately, it can’t erase what happened to the intern or how the media have handled it and exposed the hospital, you, and Dr. House. The residue remains.”

“The State Medical Licensing Board will have to hear about this,” Minors puffed up.

Cuddy glared at him. She had always tolerated Minors, but now, she was as close to hate as she had ever been. “I followed proper procedure with suspending and reinstating House’s license.”

Minors leaned forward. “I was referring to yours.”

“Elliot, none of her actions have affected her ability to practice medicine. Contain yourself!” Billingsly lost his cool, nearly shouting. He sighed and looked at Cuddy again. They had always had a strong relationship, but he couldn’t hide his disappointment from her. “However, Dr. Cuddy, I’m afraid I do question your ability to continue acting as the dean of medicine when you have clearly lost professional focus on the situation.”

“What now?” Minors salivated.

Billingsly put his glasses back on. “This is not a decision we should make lightly or quickly.”

Cuddy put a soft hand on his arm. “Drew, if you’re going to fire me, go ahead and do it. My….with House, how I deal with him isn’t going to change. We’ve come too far for that.”

Billingsly shook his head, blatantly ignoring her. “No. I will not.”

Minors stood up. “What are you doing, Drew? I’m not going to let you skate over this—”

“I call to motion that Dr. Cuddy be suspended from her position as dean of medicine effective immediately. During this time, the board will examine its own actions, Cuddy’s behavior, actions, and suitability to continue as the dean of medicine, and what is best for the hospital. The board will meet with the ethics committee and state medical licensing board concerning Dr. House and Dr. Cuddy’s employment and suitability to continuing practicing. Dr. Cuddy will be allowed to practice medicine at Princeton Plainsboro, but all administrative duties shall be sequestered and released to an interim dean until further notice.” 8:15 A.M.

* * *

10:35 A.M. Cuddy stood in front of her desk. She couldn’t believe that everything she had gathered over the past decade actually fit into two giant boxes.

Her door opened, but he didn’t say anything. She knew he was watching her, analyzing her temperament. She was afraid to look at him. If she didn’t see what she wanted, she knew she’d be crushed.

His shadow loomed over her. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she whispered.

“I saw Wilson.”

Cuddy looked up at him and smiled false light. “He tell you the good news?”

“Cuddy…” House moved towards her, but she quickly moved in the other direction, grabbing the last medical journals from her bookshelf and throwing them into her box.

She looked around the office, trying to find something to pack, to keep her busy, to stop this conversation from happening. Everything was already gone; she was forced to look at him. “Do you remember the first time we studied together?”

A faint smile stretched across House’s face. “Yeah. You got mad at me and stormed out of the library.”

Cuddy nodded, remembering. “You told me that I didn’t know how to read between the lines.”

“You don’t.”

Cuddy stepped closer to him, resting her hands on his chest. “I was so mad at you. I wanted to prove you wrong for the longest time.”

“That why you came back the next day?”

“Yep. I wanted you to see that I was just as smart as you, that I would be a great doctor too. Until I realized that you were right.” She tightened her hands on his collar, suddenly overwhelmed and unable to control the tears. “I don’t want to give this up.”

“Then don’t. Play their game. Let them see what this hospital’s like without you in charge,” he said in his usual gruff manner, ironically comforting now. “I came clean with the team.”

Immediately, her face turned from despair to concern. “How’d it go?”

“As expected. Except Foreman.” House dropped his head. “He said he could trust me now.”

Cuddy leaned against her empty desk. “Wow. I thought he would’ve gone the other way. He didn’t handle your return well at all.”

House nodded. “Truth, woman, is a powerful thing.”

She nudged his shoulder. “You still want to do this…even if I’m only a doctor?”

House shrugged noncommittally. “There’s always room for a sexy endocrinologist on my team.”

Cuddy laughed out loud, wiping her wet cheeks. “I refuse to be one of your ducklings.”

House turned and corned her against the desk. “Oh, now you’re too good to work for me. I see.”

Her eyes twinkled, filling the empty room with new light. “I like to be on top.”

House pressed his hands on either side of her, his eyes roaming like a predator. “As I recall, you’re very adjustable.”

“This is crazy,” she whispered, letting him touch her, letting herself be vulnerable and enjoy it. “I am my job. I’m not this….”

“Probably not,” House said knowingly as he continued to caress her.

She met his eyes and leaned in secretly, searching for another mind-bending kiss. “But I might like it.”

An urgent knock rapped at her door. Cuddy looked past House, seeing Brenda standing anxiously in the doorway, clutching a piece of paper. Brenda eyed the two of them, clearly aware that she had walked in on something intimate.

“Hi, Brenda,” Cuddy said easily, trying to relieve the nurse’s anxiety. “Come in.”

“Dr. Cuddy….” She took two steps in and stopped, completely at a loss. “I just got the memo. Is it true? Is Minors replacing you?”

Cuddy took the crumpled paper from Brenda and read it quickly. “Sent by Billingsly. I guess so.”

She looked to House. He narrowed his eyes. She could smell his suspicion. “Seems like an odd choice. Minors and Billingsly hate each other.”

Brenda held her chin up. “I won’t accept it, Dr. Cuddy. Neither will the rest of my staff.”

Cuddy stepped closer to the head nurse, her fierce loyalty overwhelming her. “No, Brenda. Whether or not I’m the dean, the rest of the hospital needs to continue to function. I won’t have people’s lives put into jeopardy just because my job is at stake.”

Brenda nodded once. She would do it whatever Cuddy asked. “Yes m’am.”

Before she left, Brenda gave House a warning glare, making him take a step away from Cuddy.

House turned and looked at her still form. “That was hot. Martyrdom suites you.”

“Shut up.” Cuddy rolled her eyes. “I need to think. Minors just doesn’t want me gone; he’s out to get you too.” Cuddy began to pace.

“Double, double, toil and trouble. Cuddy spins her magic bubbles.”

She stopped and looked at him. “I think you were right in the first place.”

“I know,” House said arrogantly. “About what?”

Cuddy stepped closer to him and took a deep breath. “Dr. House, you have yourself a new fellow.” 10:58 A.M.

The Rain of Mary Stuart

2009-08-02T15:33:59Z

Since I was in Times Square last night meeting up with my 9 to 5 girls, I decided to take in a show as well. (Especially since my new roommate was moving in and our apartment looked like a war zone of boxed forts.)

Mary Stuart is an amazing, amazing show. I don't care if you don't like or don't get history plays. It's brilliant--Janet McTeer plays every emotion of a desperate, strong woman fighting for her life. The last image is so beautiful; Mary is regal red (the only color in the whole show) going to her death, Elizabeth seemingly striped of her dignity and her friends. I loved the full circle, how Elizabeth was now in Mary's place.

Also, rain will never not be a cool effect on the stage. I loved how they used it, how the sloshed about, how Mary slipped and kicked her heels up. How DRENCHED she was. Gorgeous moment.

After the show was over, I floated back over to 45th street to the 9 to 5 stage door. FINALLY got to see Allison Janney upclose. Woman is hot.

It was great to hang out the ladies again. And I'm also happy to say that my apartment no longer looks like a disaster area. My new roommate can stay.

In the Hues of a Life (6/10)

2009-07-23T16:34:05Z

In the Hues of a Life
By Jules
(6/10)
M
Synopsis: An exploration of Cuddy’s side of House’s recovery and hallucinations.
A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing! ENJOY!

* * * *
Chapter 6

* * * *

12:47 A.M.

They barely made it to the bed.

Cuddy hadn’t realized how much she missed a simple kiss. However, with House, kissing was anything but simple. He more than kissed her; every touch, caress was savored, as if the last kiss hadn’t happened or the next kiss hadn’t already begun. The way he kissed completely contradicted everything she knew about him, which only made the reality of him heightened, more mysterious, more of a surreal, yet tangible fantasy.

“Remind me never to be supportive of you again.”

“What?” She giggled drunkenly, dragging his body weight over hers, finding his mouth in the darkness.

He cradled her, effectively taking the air out of her, and whispered huskily, “We are so not going to work tomorrow.”

She sunk into the bed, burrowing into the comforter with him. The loss of sight was erotic; the sound of his voice and solidness of his body enhanced ten-fold. “We could both quit now. Live off my pension.”

House grinned and ran the tips of his fingers down the side of her body. “Screw your pension. All we need is this and a double-wide.”

Cuddy laughed loudly, her body rising and shaking the bed. “I’m not living in a trailer with you. I don’t care how good you are in—”

“But I am that good.” His hand met the fabric of her panties, and their breaths caught as forgotten motor skills returned without warning.

He had always known how to touch her the way she liked it.

Cuddy’s face heated and she nuzzled the side of his scratchy cheek. “I was better,” she whispered cockily.

House’s voice was deceptively gentle, “Always so needlessly competitive.”

His finger curved inside of her, causing her to bite down on his shoulder.

“There’s only....ah….” She rolled her hips in time with his pulsing fingers. “….so much a drunk 25 year old can do….Oh, shit…” She began to pant.

House ‘s mouth hovered over hers. He was grinning like an idiot.

“Yeah, unfortunately, I couldn’t just lay there like a dead fish and let you screw my brains out. Must have been nice.” He nibbled on her bottom lip and pressed his fingers into her, effectively ending their conversation.

* * * *
1:32 A.M.

She lifted her body over his. His hands found her the curves of her upper thighs. “Hey,” she said, her wavering voice betraying her.

“Yeah.” His hands tightened around her waist possessively.

Her hand dropped to his chest. His heart was racing, off beat to her pulse. “I’m glad we’re here.”

“Yeah.” He helped her lift her hips. When she came down again, they both cried out.

* * * *

1:40 A.M.

She wanted to speak, to say something, but her whole body was entangled with his, moving in a beautiful, dark rhythm. He hadn’t been able to stay flat on his back; he was up with her, embracing her as their lower bodies danced, moving in an indefinable way that two lovers, who really knew each other, did.

“House….” She kissed him, her thoughts lost to the sensations of his lips and tongue.

“What?” He asked, tangling his hands in her hair, bringing her closer.

She answered him with her hips and inner muscles, sinking down on him slowly. He met her halfway, rocking into her, their bodies a melody of sweat, fluid, and skin.

“It’s just….” Her forehead hit his. She wanted to grow old with him. She wanted to fall asleep this way every night. She wanted him to invade her life and turn everything upside down—leave the toilet seat up, forget to put his laundry in the hamper, surprise her with take-out on a bad day and touch her when he didn’t think she was paying attention. She wanted to be friends with his mother, take him to her family’s crazy holiday parties and watch him horrify her parents. She wanted to catch him skipping out on clinic duty and punish him later for it in her office while the blinds were closed. She wanted to help him find relief for the pain. She wanted to be there, when and if, the cure ever came. And if it didn’t, she wanted him to share his pain with her. She wanted him to be happy, to laugh without sarcasm, to smile with his eyes. She wanted him to love her daughter and teach her the value of intellect and thought and the power of lies and truth. Her heart filled with him, the closed-off, skeptical, downtrodden man; and she knew more than anything—

“I know,” he spoke into her mouth, gripped her shoulder blades, taking her breasts into his chest.

—She wanted to grow old with him.

* * *

1:57 A.M.

At certain altitudes, it becomes difficult to breathe. The air is thinner, crisper, deadlier. It can do strange things to the mind; some say it make the mind clearer, others say it kills brain cells, decreasing function and thought.

The height of her first orgasm was transcendent. She would never be quite sure what she said or did during those moments; her body submitted to him and he was her pilot, flying her higher and higher, sending her totally out of control, her sensor gone.

She had no choice but to crash into him.

When he came, it was deliberate, possessive, with his eyes wide open. She let him come without protection—a futile effort to create—but a beautiful thought nonetheless.

* * *

2:15 A.M.

Their breathing had finally quieted; sleep was inevitable. She turned on her side, watching him.

“You’re smiling.”

“Am not.”

“You are grinning.”

“Lies.” House crossed his arms and tried to force a frown.

She leaned over him, her eyes filled with glee. “You can’t even help yourself.”

House rolled his eyes, but then he looked at her, and his face softened against his will. Cuddy held her breath, but he quickly said, “You know you could totally charge.”

“And he’s back.” She rolled off of him and turned her back to him.

“Wait, wait.” House scooted behind her. “Don’t pout.”

She slapped his wandering hand. “You just compared what we just did—shared—to something you could have gotten from one of your hookers.”

“I was trying to give you a compliment,” House said, as if it was the most reasonable thing in the world.

Cuddy groaned. “It’s fine, House. I get it. You’re incapable of enjoying it. Let’s just…not talk.”

House flipped on his back. “Fine.”

She didn’t move. “Fine.”

Silence. “Hey, Cuddy.”

No answer.

“Cuddy.”

She sighed and gritted her teeth.

“Cuddy, Cuddy, Cuddy!”

Cuddy flipped over, exasperated. “What, House?!”

He was grinning at her again. “You know that little roll you did with your hips?”

“No.” She crossed her arms and tried to force a frown.

“Yeah, you do. That little…” He leaned over her, his eyes filled with glee. “That.”

Cuddy rolled her eyes, but then she looked at him, and her face softened against her will. “.…what was that?”

“Sexy, huh?” House held his breath.

“No, but this is,” she quickly said before she moved on top of him.

* * *

4:15 A.M.

“I can feel that.”

He was kissing her back, from one shoulder to the other. One, two, three, blade….

“I didn’t know you were awake.” Four, five, six, spine….

She sighed happily, “I wasn’t.” One, two, three, blade….

“But you are now.” One, two, three, stomach, four…..

“And whose fault is that?” She moaned. Five, six, seven, pelvis….

“We missed our 3 A.M. date,” he admonished. One, two, three, knee….

She opened her eyes, surprised. “What? Really?”

House nodded up her leg. “Yep. Slept clear through it.” Four, five, six, thigh….

“Mmmmm….Thank God,” she exclaimed. She hadn’t slept in months (not that she was sleeping much now, but still).

“Shame though. I kind of liked it.” Seven, eight, nine, mouth….

“I guess we’ll just have to make up for lost time.” She opened her legs for him.

“If you insist.” Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen….

* * *

6:37 A.M.

The phone shrilled. They both jerked awake, a mess of spent limbs and organs.

“No,” Cuddy rejected the interruption and fell back on his chest. She brought the covers over their heads.

“Unplug it.” House slung his arm around her, kissing her sloppily, without a care in the world. “C’mere.”

The answering machine beeped loudly as they continued to kiss half-awake.

“Cuddy…Cuddy….Pick up the phone. It’s Wilson. You need to turn on the news. Cuddy, pick up. Cuddy….the cops found a suicide note. It’s all over the news. They know everything.”

In the Hues of a Life (5/10)

2009-07-15T23:29:52Z

In the Hues of a Life
(5/10)
M
Synopsis: An exploration of Cuddy’s side of House’s recovery and hallucinations.
A/N: This chapter definitely begins to earn the M rating. If you’re just reading for plot (heh), come back around chapter 7. Hope you enjoy!

* * *
Chapter 5

* * *

Cuddy couldn’t help but smile as she stepped back into her living room. She half expected him to be gone.

“You camping out?” She spoke over the soft, fuzzy head of her little girl.

House was sprawled out on her sofa with a frilly afghan on top of him.

“You shouldn’t be alone,” House grunted gallantly, keeping his eyes closed. “Trust me.”

Cuddy snorted as she placed Rachel in the playpen. “You’re just too comfortable to get up and go home.”

“You do have a great couch,” House mused lightly. He opened his eyes, watching her. She felt his hesitation and turned to meet his eyes. “I’m off the Vicodin,” he admitted quietly.

She lowered her eyes and turned back to the playpen. She picked up one of Rachel’s blankets and began to fold it. “I read in Nolan’s report.”

“Don’t get too excited over there.” House sat up, discarding the afghan.

Cuddy shrugged, still avoiding his gaze. “I’m just being realistic. I do like you like this. Sober. Open. Wise….”

House rolled his eyes. “Oh, keep it coming, baby.”

Cuddy dropped the blanket and sat on the edge of the sofa. “But I know you too. You miss it. If tempted—”

House lifted his feet and plopped them in the middle of her lap. “I’d call you. Make you whisper dirty things in my ear. Stroke my….”

Cuddy pushed his legs off the sofa. “Overinflated ego?”

They smiled easily as she took a seat next to him.

“I was thinking something a little more regional to my person.” He grinned lecherously at her.

They looked ahead, side by side. The t.v. stared at them blankly.

Cuddy frowned. “Is this what dating’s like?”

House snorted. “You don’t remember?”

“I’ve had a lot of first dates, House. You know this.” She narrowed her eyes at him accusingly.

“Oh, that’s right.” House lifted his arm and snuck it around her. “One of your suitors sent me a postcard from Bolivia. A great humanitarian, that one.”

Cuddy chuckled and leaned into him, remembering, “Henrik Ivanphork.”

He looked at her seriously. “It was for your own good, Cuddy. I could never call you Ivanphork.”

“We’ve never been on a date,” she whispered reverently.

“No, we haven’t.“ He grinned, unasked questions looming between them. He leaned down, his lips almost touching her ear as he whispered hungrily, “Want to grab all your take-out menus and order something from every foreign country?”

* * *

“Pass the chana saag please.”

Cuddy held her hand out for the plastic container, but House pulled it back and pointed to the plate in front of her. “Chana saag for a fried ravoli.”

“Deal. Wow,” Cuddy moaned in delight while she stirred a strange concoction of yellow and green. She sat cross-legged on the floor and talked with her mouth full, “Who knew sour kraut tasted good with chutney?”

House looked horrified. “Gross. Are you pregnant?”

“Only by your wireless extension.” Cuddy’s eyes twinkled.

House leaned against the sofa, eyeing her. “I would have paid good money to see you knocked up. It would have been a total crime against form-fitting clothing everywhere.”

Cuddy swirled her fork in between the chickpeas and spinach. “You would have hated it, don’t give me that bull. You haven’t exactly warmed up to Rachel, and I didn’t even carry her.”

Thoughtful silence passed between them as the toddler babbled behind them.

“I got spoiled. “ House held his breath, catching her eyes. She looked at him warily and waited for him to say something stupid. He looked at the little girl marching and falling haphazardly over stuffed animals. “But this is good. You don’t have to give her back.”

He stabbed one of the raviolis with his fork.

“Thanks, House. I’m glad you’ll let me keep my daughter.” She stole and eggroll from him and ripped it a part with her teeth.

“You’re welcome. Chili con queso with that?”

* * *

They sat on the floor next to each other, the coffee table a wasteland of take-out containers and unused plastic forks.

Cuddy rubbed her stomach as the food coma took over. “God, that was so good. Let’s never go out.”

House nodded, resting his head against hers. “No dating. Check.”

“I vote we skip work tomorrow,” she mumbled sleepily.

House’s eyes popped open and he pushed her shoulders back. “Hand back the real Cuddy now, you imposter!”

“Come back here—” Cuddy protested, pushing back against his hands and body that he had so quickly removed.

But, he held her away easily. “Look. You’re going to have to deal with all of that bureaucratic BS eventually. It might as well be tomorrow.”

Cuddy laughed and pushed his hands away from her. “Are you seriously encouraging me to go to work?”

House rolled his eyes. He was caught, and they both knew it. “For my selfish aesthetic viewing purposes only,” he tried to downplay his concern. “I’d miss the twins if they stayed home with mommy.”

Cuddy stared at his rugged, sarcastic, sad face.

“Take me to bed,” she said directly.

Neither one of them moved or breathed. The thought of rejection was horrifying; they had experienced it too many times with each other, but never in a moment this serious or real. There weren’t any glass doors to hide behind; there weren’t lost children or beautiful hallucinations or late night phone calls to protect them. It was just them, a long hallway, and a bedroom door at the end.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” He finally spoke, non-committal.

“No.”

He pushed himself off the floor, the struggle in his movements not lost on her. He looked down at her, waiting.

She rose to her knees, stopping. “Or we could stay here.”

They had been here their whole lives. It was now or never. House smiled slowly; it stretched to his eyes as he held out his hands to her. No matter what he said or did to hide it, the romantic owned him, even more so when he gave a damn.

He pulled her to his side, his pianist fingers playing along the side of her ribcage. The contact was addictive, and Cuddy took full advantage of her position, wrapping her arms around his waist, her feet in line with his, making it difficult for him to move forward.

She pressed a soft kiss to his clavicle, and his whole body tensed. His left hand reached out, looking for support, and finally slammed against the wall.

He tripped, pushing them forward, and the hallway stretched as she continued to attack his neck.

Forcefully, he grabbed her wrists, halting her assault on him. She pulled back, dazed from the endorphins and pheromones floating between them.

Without warning, he kissed her, slamming her back against her bedroom door.

For a second, all she could feel was the hard wood against her skull, but slowly, her senses returned and his lips and skin began to combine with hers. She kissed him greedily, taking his breath just as much as he was taking hers. Their air pushed into each other, swirling with tongues and waking passion. And for the first time in her life, she knew that she wouldn’t fear dying because this was worth never breathing again.

A gasp sprung between them, breaking them a part, keeping them firmly planted in reality. Cuddy’s fingers caught in his shirt as he pushed back, his head bent, hovering over her.

“There. I walked you to your door.”

She looped her finger through a buttonhole. “You can come in, you know.”

“No.” He pulled her back in his arms, burying his head in her neck.

“Why not?” She grinned and moaned as his hands wondered south.

He pulled back and looked at her pointedly. “You’re exhausted, upset and horny. A terrible combination.”

Cuddy’s mouth dropped.

That’s when House began to laugh.

She slapped him and pulled him back by his collar. “You’re an asshole!”

Calming her hands, he took her face in his. “You know…that day….when I said we should move in together?”

She closed her eyes, remembering the look in his eyes when he had said it, how he had smiled; remembering how shocked she had been, how she laughed. “Yeah.”

“I was serious.” This time, she didn’t laugh. She began to unbutton his shirt. Her eyes didn’t leave his. Her hands traveled down his body, stopping briefly at his belt.

“Hold on to the doorframe,” she whispered.

He did as he was told, and slowly, she unzipped his pants. When she dropped to her knees, she could see everything he wanted, everything he tried to hide from her. She knew exactly how much he wanted her. His bad leg quivered in anticipation, possibly in pain, as she pulled his pants and boxers down his thighs, his knees, all the way to his ankles.

She rose and kissed his right thigh. She let her mouth brush against his pubic hairs, falling to his left leg. When he gasped, she didn’t waste anytime and took him completely in her mouth. She rose on her knees, and wrapped her arms around his body, consuming him.

She cupped his bare ass and squeezed, encouraging him to lose control. He groaned as she let her tongue travel the length of his penis; his hands fumbled from the doorway, reaching for her.

He caressed her hair; he touched her face. She swallowed him again; he cried out her name.

He was about to come, she knew, but she wouldn’t let him pull out. She wanted to taste him. She wanted his sex in her mouth. The reasons were not pure: in the back of her mind she wanted to make it impossible for him to be with anyone else again; to make him hate every hooker he had every been with; but she would never admit it.

Tears began to stream down her face from the intensity of his thrusts; she only pushed him harder, took him in more. She was owning him, loving him, breaking him.

Breaking herself.

His leg shook violently, and when he came, he held on to her to keep from falling.

In the Hues of a Life (4/10)

2009-07-09T06:12:07Z

In the Hues of a Life
By Jules
(4/10)
Synopsis: An exploration of Cuddy’s side of House’s recovery and hallucinations.
A/N: I hate writing chapter 4s. I rewrote this thing 5 times, so hopefully it makes sense. Thanks so much for the great feedback! Enjoy!

* * *
Chapter 4

* * *

8:34 A.M. “Good morning.” She bit her lip and smiled as she felt his warm hand on her lower back. It lingered there as he leaned on the counter next to her. He grinned knowingly, as she

drew in her breath as her palm stretched across the smooth surface of her body. She moaned into the phone, exhaling as she finally gave into the pleasure of touching herself, spreading her fingers through her curls

and whispering, “You’re here early.”

She flipped through a patient file, keeping her eyes down, purposefully away from him.

“And whose fault is that?” House chuckled, leaning over her shoulder close to her ear so he could

“….tie you up and make you scream….”

“You…. First….” She panted.

“…Cuddy,” House growled and

she turned to face him, eyes sparkling and face flushed. “About last night….”

“About that.” He lifted his eyebrows diabolically, taunting her with

“….tongue inside you, lips on your clit….”

“Fuck, House. Fuck me…” She lifted her hips and

her eyes to him. “It was….”

A slow smile spread across her face that could only be described as naughty.

“Yeah.” There were no words. Her grin was infectious, and they began to giggle like teenagers. Neither noticed Vanessa watching them from the other side of the clinic.

Cuddy leaned into him and whispered, “I think it was….”

“Oh….Oh God…Oh….So Good….”

“Right there….”

“Yes! Oh, God! I’m coming! I’m—”

“Totally against doctor’s orders.” House pressed his fingers to his lips.

Cuddy nodded, forcing a serious expression. “Right. You have to focus on the tangible.”

House snatched the file she was reading. “Personally, I find the issue to be proximity.”

Cuddy took the file back and closed it. “I think that’s a fair assessment.”

House grabbed the back of her lab coat, pulling her into his space. She met his eyes as she quickly gathered his meaning and intentions. “So tonight—”

“Cuddy!” She jerked away from House as she heard her name. Wilson, winded and more flustered than usual, called out to her, “Board room now.”

“What’s going on?” Cuddy pulled away from House.

Wilson eyed them curiously. “Intern committed suicide. Media is going nuts.”

Cuddy stopped moving. “What?”

* * *

8:45 A.M.

Cuddy ran off the elevator and spun around the corner. She slammed through the glass doors and looked up to the big screen TV. “Turn up the volume now.”

“…Harris, 22, a Suma Cum Laude pre-med from Columbia University was found dead this morning in her boyfriend’s apartment. ‘I don’t understand what happened,’ her mother says, “she was so happy and doing so well.’ Sources say Harris was let go from her internship yesterday at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Officials from the institution have yet to comment.”

Rebecca’s face filled the screen. Cuddy blanched as she stared at the young girl’s happy picture.

“Cuddy… Hey…” House put a tentative hand on her arm. She hadn’t realized he had followed her.

Her mind reeled and she began to ramble, “We’ll need to make a statement. I need to see her family. I—” She tried to take action, but her words minced, coming out jumbled and dazed.

“Sit down. You’re shaking,” House whispered in her ear and gently lowered her to a seat.

“I did this, House.” She gripped his hand.

She didn’t see that everyone had stopped watching the news and were now watching them.

* * *

9:22 A.M. “It’s clearly a case of a fragile young woman unable to deal with a termination. I’m not sure why we’re putting Dr. Cuddy on trial for it. The girl breached confidentiality. Cuddy was in her jurisdiction to let her go. Period.” Wilson fell back against his seat, his agitation clear as the board meeting droned on, turning an ugly head.

“I understand that, Wilson.” Dr. Elliot Minors, vice-president of the board, loosened his tie and ran a frustrated hand over his shiny, bald head. “However, Cuddy’s judgment has been less than stellar ever since House ‘took his sabbatical.’”

“You’re treading on thin ice, Minors,” Drew Billingsly, Chairman of the Board chided.

“What was this supposed ‘breach?’” Minors spoke up again. “For all we know, Cuddy let the girl go because of idle gossip.”

“I assure you that wasn’t the case,” Cuddy said quietly, still too stunned to defend herself.

Billingsly eyed the pale form of his dean. “Regardless, we need to be prepared for any action the girl’s parents might take or media coverage. Dr. Cuddy, you’ll need to prepare a statement within the hour for board approval. We’ll reconvene then.”

* * *

10:44 A.M. “Did you shrink?”

“I think better without my shoes on.” Cuddy paced back and forth in her office, her heels and stocking tossed haphazardly on the sofa.

“Funny. I always thought your omniscient powers came directly from the fuck me pumps and push-up bras.” House grinned affectionately at her. At least he was trying.

“I don’t feel very powerful right now.” She stopped pacing and looked at him hopelessly. “I don’t know what to say to them. I can’t tell the truth.”

They stood a foot apart from each other, immobile. It felt like a mile to her.

House shrugged. “Then lie. It’s what we do.”

* * *
Cuddy approached the podium, eyes on her speech, red marks and scribbled words making it difficult to decipher the words.

12 Noon. “My name is Dr. Lisa Cuddy and I am the Dean of Medicine of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. On behalf of the entire staff and board, we would like to offer our condolences to Ms. Harris’ family and friends. She had great potential and it is unfortunate that she had to leave us so soon. At this time, I’ll take a few questions.”

“Dr. Cuddy, you fired Ms. Harris yesterday, is that correct?” A reporter from NJ-Local 1 asked quickly.

“Correct. Unfortunately, she breached hospital policy; and as the Dean of Medicine, it’s my job to protect the hospital and its staff,” Cuddy looked into the sea of reporters. Past them, House loomed, watching closely by the double doors.

“So you’re saying she put the staff at risk?” A WMGM reporter questioned, shoving the mike in her face.

House crossed his arms, frowning, his eyes full of something she didn’t recognize.

“Yes.”

“Can you be more specific?” The NJ-Local 1 reporter asked.

Their eyes met and

moved together, distance and space irrelevant, because they were more than words, they were dreaming….

“She disclosed the medical condition of a staff member.”

* * *
9:47 P.M.

She opened her door, and there he was, anxious, ready, worried. “It’s not even 10 o’clock.”

He pretended to look at his watch. “It’s three in South Africa.”

“Liar.” Without warning, she embraced him. She hadn’t genuinely hugged him in years, but it didn’t feel strange. When he returned the embrace, she pulled him closer and selfishly carved a nook in his neck for herself.

“It’ll be okay,” he said, rubbing her back. “Just remember the phone sex. It doesn’t get much better than that.”

She laughed but quickly dissolved to tears. “I’m going to lose my job.”

House pulled back, narrowing his eyes at her stoically. “They’ll threaten it, sure, but at the end of the day, they’ll see what I see. You couldn’t have done anything to stop her. People don’t kill themselves because they screw up or fail or lose a job. Look at Kutner.”

Cuddy looked away from him. She knew this was too close to home for him. It felt like some sick, vicious cycle they would never stop running.

Cuddy shook her head and began to pace, knotting her fists in her sweatshirt. “You can’t compare the two. There were a series of events….”

House slammed his cane on the floor, reverberating through the entire room. “So what? Life is a series of events. So what if yours was the last in her life. She’s gone, and it’s not your fault.”

His eyes were raw, full of ghosts and regrets. She was scared to touch him, scared that if she let him see too much, he would disappear right in front of her.

She tried to focus. “I am responsible. I was thinking about you, and I lost the big picture. Image matters. What they say, all those idiot reporters out there, matters.”

“And what are we? Bright shiny pixels that make sound bites for the 5 o’clock news, oh jaded mistress?” He caught her sweatshirt fist.

Her fingers snuck out slowly and knotted with his. “No. Just a lovely thought….”

House’s eyes darkened and the grip on her hand tightened. “Oh don’t start that crap, Cuddy. This, right here, is not some fantasy or figment of my fucked up imagination. This is real, it’s getting too real, and that scares the shit out of you.”

He was in her face, and she could barely find his eyes in the deep blue that engorged her. She put her hand on his chest but didn’t move.

“There are boundaries, House. Once we cross that line, others get blurry too.”

House scoffed, “So I must have been dreaming last night when I made you come.”

“It wasn’t—” She closed her eyes and

his mouth sucked between her thighs, milking her like honey and

he pulled her closer, his mouth against her ear. “What? Real? You faked it? Bullshit. We don’t even have to touch…. You want to talk boundaries? Then stay on topic, and stop screwing with a perfectly good grey zone. A careless pre-med saw something she shouldn’t have and then decided to talk about it. If she actually gave a damn about her future, she would have walked away from that conversation and never opened her trap.”

House let her go, his breath heavy. Suddenly she felt stripped, naked and cold without him against her.

Proximity was definitely an issue.

She fell down to her ottoman and shook her head. “I’m already skating on thin ice for re-hiring you. My credibility will be shot if the media finds out why I fired her. I don’t have anything without that job. Neither do you.”

House leaned against the archway, his body tired and his fight dissipating. “Maybe not. Maybe it would suck. You’re probably right. But Cuddy, you have a life outside that hospital. You have a little girl who actually depends on your narcissistic ass.”

Rachel began to cry.

Cuddy listened to the sound. She was needed; he was right. She stood up and pointed to the back rooms. “Speaking of….”

“Go get the munchkin. I need to sit down.” House limped over to her sofa. She watched him ease down slowly, wincing the last few inches. He closed his eyes.

“Are you in pain?” She whispered.

“Yes.” He opened his eyes and rubbed the cavernous skin, eyes never leaving hers. “Just a series of events.”

In the Hues of a Life (3/10)

2009-07-06T04:02:43Z

In the Hues of a Life
By Jules
M
(3/10)
Synopsis: An exploration of Cuddy’s side of House’s recovery and hallucinations.
A/N: Thanks so much for reading! The feedback rocks. Hope you continue to enjoy.

* * *
Chapter 3

* * *

“You stood me up.”

She stood in front of him in her pajama bottoms and a ratty University of Michigan sweatshirt without any make-up. She felt ugly as sin, but she didn’t care. She needed answers.

House leaned against his doorframe, hovering over her. “ You said, ‘goodnight.’ Unless you did a Nurse Ratchet on me when I wasn’t looking, ‘Goodnight’ is the universal signal for ‘I’m not interested.’”

“Well, I am, so you might want to have your records forwarded here from Mayfield just in case the lobotomy I ordered went through.” She pushed past him into his apartment.

He studied her like she was one of his patients. “You want something.”

“I want to talk.” She dropped her purse and keys and sat in the center of his couch.

“Why? It’s not going to make you feel better.” House stalked closer to her. “It certainly won’t help me.”

She wrung her hands and shook her head resolutely. “I don’t believe that.”

House smirked and shuffled around the couch to the kitchen. “You think it’ll help you. I see. Lisa Cuddy, always out for number one.”

“I haven’t been able to sleep.” That stopped him. He turned around and looked at her.

He leaned against the kitchen doorframe, considering her. Finally, he spoke quietly, almost reverently, “My roommate was a professional drummer. I’m serious. He never slept. He would keep this beat going, almost like a rapper. It was quite comforting.”

Cuddy smiled knowingly. “But you still didn’t sleep.”

House raised his eyebrows. “I joined in. We had our own Mariachi band of two.”

She leaned over the couch, observing his far away countenance. “What did Nolan say about it?”

House guffawed, “He was ready to invest. But that didn’t stop him from giving me sleeping pills after the fourth day.”

House reached inside the kitchen and picked up a bottle of pills off the counter. He rattled them and tossed them across the room to her.

Cuddy looked at the bottle: Rozerem. She nodded, tears in her eyes. “It’s been three months. I think I’m a little beyond sleeping pills.”

She tossed the pills back to him.

“So you resort to coming over here in the middle of the night. The blind leading the blind.” He sat on the couch next to her, not leaving her any room as their duel plaid pajama pants touched. “Healthy.”

She leaned her head on the sofa and smiled softly. “Mariachi band of two.”

House grinned and exhaled a weighty breath. She watched his hands, flexing and releasing in time.

“Want a drink? We could make the glasses sing.”

“Sure.”

House stood and poured them two glasses of scotch. He handed her the glass and swirled his own. “Nolan thinks I was trying to replace Vicodin with you.”

Cuddy sat up, nodding. “You objectified me.”

She wondered if she ever did the same to him. Brilliant, misanthropic, untouchable scapegoat-man.

House lifted the glass of amber liquid up to his eye and looked at her through it. “He thinks I don’t see you clearly, and what I hallucinated was only a cry for help.”

Cuddy took a sip and lowered her eyes. “What do you think?”

House sat next to her again, his eyes beautiful and sad. “I think it’s crap. If I thought you could do that for me, I’d have married you eight years ago.”

Her breath hitched and her heart cracked and fissured even more; she would have married him if she knew that it would help him and make him happy.

Silence stretched between them, and he leaned in closer and whispered, “I totally dig the no make-up look, by the way.”

She put her half-finished drink down on his coffee table.

“Thanks for the drink, House.”

House shook himself, knocking himself out of his self-inflicted daze.

“You leaving?”

She nodded. “Yeah, Rachel will be up soon, and I don’t want her waking up with just the nanny. Night.”

“Hey, wait. “ House limped across the room, putting his hand on the doorknob. “What are you doing tomorrow night around 3 A.M.?”

Cuddy stood half-in, half-out of the door. She smiled and whispered, “Call me.”

* * *

8:45 A.M. Cuddy was immersed in departmental budget reports. She was on her third cup of coffee after barely an hour of sleep.

“You got a minute?”

Cuddy looked up and smiled at her visitor. “Come in, Foreman. I just want to thank you again for taking the reins while House was gone. You did a great job.”

Foreman sighed anxiously. “That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” Cuddy asked, half-listening.

“The dynamic is off. It’s been off since he returned.” He crossed his arms across his chest defensively.

Cuddy finally took in his presence. Clearly, he was upset and agitated. “He’s your superior, Foreman. I’m sure it’ll be an adjustment, but House is the head of the Diagnostic Department. That won’t change.”

Foreman nearly scoffed. “Even after he humiliated you in front of the entire hospital? You still support him.”

It was true—after he had crumbled right in front of her, her platitudes about reputation and self-preservation vanished. He was all that mattered. But once he was gone, the only things left were the judgment and ridicule of the entire hospital. She hadn’t even tried to defend herself until this moment.

“Unfortunately, there were extenuating circumstances—”

“What? He didn’t know what he was saying? He was high? Hallucinating? Cuddy, he announced to the entire hospital that you slept together, and he barely got a slap on the wrist.”

Cuddy’s blood boiled. She wanted to slap Foreman, if only to remind him what it was like to be human. “House has been handled.”

“How did you handle him?”

Cuddy stood toe to toe with him. “Do not push me on this, Foreman. You will not be happy with the results.”

Foreman shook his head; disdain and jealousy seeped through ever pore of his body. “I get it. You’ll protect him no matter what he does or says. Or maybe you’re not upset because it’s true. You should really consider protecting yourself, you know.”

“Work it out with him and get out of my office. Now,” Cuddy said icily. When he left, she picked up her phone but suddenly hesitated.

She put the phone back in its cradle and left her office, heading to the clinic for a distraction.

* * *

“….and the way she was staring at him was so pathetic. Poor Brenda practically got her head chewed off for interrupting a moment with the man’s back.” Cuddy heard their voices and stopped behind them in the doorway.

She knew people were gossiping about House, about her and House, but this was the first time she had actually heard it.

Vanessa Rodriguez nodded vigorously. “I saw them leaving yesterday. I think they went together.”

Carol Robinson smirked and whispered, “She could do so much better. She must be desperate.”

“Well, I think it’s romantic,” Rebecca Harris, a new intern, sighed and leaned into her first gossip session.

Carol, a huskier, 40-something nurse guffawed, “Says the 22-year-old. Trust me, honey, chasing a man for half your life is anything but romantic.”

“But it is!” She pronounced innocently, “I think it’s noble how she’s standing by him. Especially after he was shipped off to the loony bin.”

Vanessa’s eyes bulged. “What?”

“Rebecca. My office. Now.”

The three women turned around, finding an irate Cuddy staring at them. Vanessa and Carol scattered guiltily, avoiding their boss’s eyes.

Rebecca’s face turned crimson, and she followed the already moving dean back to her office.

Cuddy slammed the door behind them. She towered over the young woman, and for a moment, she almost felt sorry for her. “While I appreciate freedom of speech, spreading confidential information around the hospital is unacceptable.”

Rebecca’s eyes filled with tears. “Dr. Cuddy…I’m…I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. You’re fired,” Cuddy said harshly. She moved quickly back to her desk to avoid the girl’s tears.

She couldn’t believe it had come to this. She had fired someone because of him.

“I’m sorry. I—” Rebecca sputtered, her career flashing in front of her eyes.

“I want you gone by the end of the day. That’s all.” When the door shut, Cuddy closed her eyes. “God damn it, House.”

* * *

3:42 A.M.

“You shouldn’t have fired her,” he said plainly.

Cuddy rolled on her side, tucking the phone under her chin. “I can handle gossip. Most of the time they’re so far off, it doesn’t matter. But when she announced to the two most salacious nurses on staff where you had been, I had to draw the line.”

“You pulled out the whip and chains, I get it. But Cuddy, I think we should tell people.”

Cuddy bit her lip, his use of ‘we’ evidence that she was too involved for her own good. She tried to sound nonchalant. “If that’s what you want.”

House shrugged. “You’re the one with the reputation. What do you think?”

Cuddy ran her fingers through her hair and sighed, “Either way, people will talk. However, if it hinders your practice, I think you should only tell those on a need to know basis.”

House smiled into the phone. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Just save it for when you need it.”

“Okay,” she whispered and yawned.

“Sleeping any better?” He asked.

She laughed and rubbed her eyes. “It’s 3:45 A.M. What do you think?”

He hummed into the phone. “What keeps you up?”

“House.” She wasn’t ready for this. Just talking to him still felt raw.

“You stripped for me once.”

Cuddy’s mouth dropped. “I did what?”

House chuckled, his voice low and teasing, “School girl uniform and everything. We did a differential. You stripped. It was hot.”

Cuddy sat up and tried to imagine herself straddling a poll. Straddling him.

“We did it on my desk,” she blurted out. She waited and listened. Absolutely no response. “….House?”

House finally exhaled.

“Sorry, I was enjoying the visual. You like the desk, huh?” His voice wavered slightly as his words tickled her ear.

She smiled and lowered herself back into her pillows. She had never thanked him for it, but it didn’t matter. She knew she just did. “Love it.”

“Cuddy....” House nearly moaned her name.

Her heart was in her ears, and she could hear his strained breathing; she knew he was thinking about her.

“Every night. I dream about us,” she admitted quietly, not sure if she really said it until she heard him speak again.

“And right now?”

“I’m not dreaming.” She closed her eyes and let her hand run slowly down her body.

In the Hues of a Life (2/10)

2009-07-05T15:56:14Z

In the Hues of a Life
By Jules
(2/10)
M
A/N: Thanks for great feedback. It definitely helps me write. Much appreciated. Enjoy the next!
Synopsis: An exploration of Cuddy’s side of House’s recovery and hallucinations.

* * *

Chapter 2

* * *

“You didn’t tell them,” he said without preamble.

Cuddy stood back and let him enter her office. She needed a moment to gather herself before she went into battle with him. She was sorely out of practice and didn’t want him to see her disappointment. She shut the door and went behind her desk, distancing herself from him. “Wilson and I discussed it. We thought it best to leave that to your discretion.”

House grimaced and stalked towards her, the limp in his leg heavy and slightly more pronounced. Cuddy couldn’t help but watch him; she had so many questions. How was he managing the pain? How did he feel? Did he still want her? “They’re suspicious. Regardless of your and Wilson’s well-meaning lie of omission, they don’t trust me anymore.”

“What did you expect?” Cuddy played the defensive and steeled herself. “You’ve been gone for three months. Things have changed.”

“You put Foreman in charge,” he accused, spitting out his name like rusty nails.

Cuddy stood up again, unable to play behind the desk anymore. “No, I asked Chase and Cameron to come back. The three of them worked as a team.”

House rolled his eyes. “An idiotic move on your part.”

Cuddy took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She hated how everything he said affected her. And now, seeing him again after their most vulnerable moment, his ability to hurt her was magnified. Every word and jab out of his mouth painful. “It saved the department and your job, House. You should be thanking them.”

“Why do that when I have Joan of Arc hot and bothered right in front of me?” His eyes shot through her causing little deaths around her heart.

She countered the desk and invaded his space. “You have no idea what I did for you.”

They stared at each other, the heat from their argument spreading like a wildfire, magnetic and dangerous.

His voice lowered an octave, and he spoke quickly and sharply. “I’m sure you have a laundry list folded neatly in your panty hose. Wanna show me?”

“God, you’re still an ass.”

House scoffed and turned on his heel. “Missed you too, you evil witch.”

* * *

“I think I made a mistake.”

“What did House do?” Wilson put down his pen, turning his focus towards his distressed boss.

Cuddy shrugged and plopped down in the chair across from him. “Nothing. He came into my office, challenged me, insulted me, and then left.”

Wilson rippled air through his lips. “At least he’s back to some semblance of normal? Cuddy, the hallucinations are gone, but House is the same man he always was.”

“It’s not that, Wilson. I just thought there would be—I don’t know—some acknowledgement,” she admitted quietly.

“Lisa, he couldn’t talk about you. Every time I would bring it up, ask—”

“Meddle?” Cuddy grinned knowingly at him.

“Inquire about what happened, what he thought happened, he’d shut down.”

Cuddy slumped forward, her eyes downcast. “That’s so unfair.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” She smiled tightly at him. “I have to go. Meeting with the building manager.”

* * *

Cuddy never made it to the meeting. As soon as she left Wilson’s office, the ER was flooded with the worst wreck I-95 had seen in years. She paged every department as the victims flooded the hallways.

The paramedic reeled off, “Young woman, 25, BP 90 over 60. She has a gash across her frontal lobe and has been unconscious for approximately twenty-two minutes—”

Cuddy made a fast beeline to her, assessing the situation, “We don’t have a place to put her down here, but—”

“We’ll take her up to ICU.” House was beside Cuddy, focused on the patient. “Unit 2 and 3 are available. Send up the worst cases.”

She nodded, meeting his eyes briefly in thanks.

The afternoon was difficult as it went into the evening. Cuddy was forced to send the minor cases to Princeton General, and three people had died before 6 P.M.

But House and his team were brilliant—seven critically injured stable and saved.

The day was over and they wheeled House’s last patient to surgery. 8:55 P.M.

Cuddy spotted him leaving Unit 2. He sat on a bench and hunched over his legs. One by one, his team followed him out. The buzz had already reached the nurse’s station—House was back and a hero.

As Taub touched his shoulder in acknowledgment, House looked up and caught her eyes. She nodded and a slow, tired smile spread across his face. Indeed, he was back.

* * *
9:15 P.M. They walked out side by side, the early tension vanquished by the fragility and reality of human life.

“Thanks for staying. I know today hasn’t been easy—”

“Didn’t have much choice, did I?” House shook his head. Cuddy nodded; she knew exactly why he did what he did—so he could come back tomorrow, and the day after that and do so with pride.

“No, but you did good work. Your team knows it too.” Cuddy stopped at the glass doors. “Can we go somewhere and talk? TJ’s, around the corner is—”

House bristled, not meeting her eyes, “Tempting. But I have a date with a hooker and her girlfriend this evening, so I’ll pass on patty cakes and schnapps and scintillating soul searching conversation.”

His eyes didn’t match his biting words, but Cuddy accepted it and pushed through the doors with him. She didn’t know what she expected. She knotted her fist, bothered and tense.

In the middle of the parking lot, she stopped and called out to him before he could escape, “How real were they?”

House looked away. He clearly didn’t want to talk about the hallucinations.

“House,” she implored him.

House closed his eyes. “As real as you and me standing right here.”

When he opened his eyes, Cuddy froze. His eyes were sadder than the day he left.

Quietly, she whispered, “I’m sorry I didn’t see it.”

Her meaning double-edged, striking them both. House exhaled, “Me too.”

Quickly, he got on his motorcycle and road away.

* * *
2:55 A.M.

She fumbled for the phone and put it to her ear. Groggily she answered, “Hello?”

“Do you believe in outer body experiences?” His voice was low but he was clearly wide-awake.

Cuddy looked at her clock and rolled back on her pillow. She groaned, “It’s 3 A.M., House.”

“Can’t sleep.”

She knew about that. She hadn’t slept well since the day he left. “Bad dream?” She ventured.

“Amber.”

Cuddy sat up and turned on the light. “House, are you—”

“No, I’m not seeing her anymore. But when I close my eyes….”

“You dream.” She leaned back against the headboard. Silence passed between them.

“Yeah,” he admitted.

“Dreams are normal. You’re not crazy.”

House chuckled, “She says with absolute confidence.”

“You’re not. I’ve dreamt….” She caught herself.

“Yeah.” His voice was softer, like whiskey-coated honey. Tentatively, he said, “The lesbians cancelled, so if you want to…”

“I’m not coming over tonight.” She said sharply yet grinned despite herself.

The quiet passed between them, and she curled into the phone, listening to him breathe.

Just as she was nodding off, he suggested, “We could go out.”

“House.” His named rolled off her tongue, husky and seductive.

“I’ll pick you up. We’ll drive to Atlantic City and back.”

“I take it back. You are crazy.”

“Twenty minutes.”

She shook her head. “Goodnight, House.”

She hung up the phone and fell back on her pillow, a satisfied grin on her face.

* * *

She felt the cool air first. Then, she realized that her covers were gone. She sat up and nearly screamed. He laughed and shielded himself from her beating hands. “What? I told you I was coming. You didn’t believe me?” He said teasingly.

“It’s a first.” She stared at him in the darkness, her heart racing as she remembered her dreams.

“Oh ye of little faith.” He grabbed her hand. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“I’m in my pajamas.” She pulled back on his hand.

House smiled lecherously, “Yes, you are. Come on Cuddy, before the sun comes up.”

“At least let me put my shoes on.”

They rode through the winding streets of her neighborhood on his bike, her arms tightly wrapped around his waist and her face nestled into his back.

When the engine stopped, she jumped, realizing she had fallen asleep. As he parked the bike, she looked around them, trying to gain her bearings.

“I thought we were going to Atlantic City.” She could see the skyline of New York City. His hands slid around her waist, and he leaned into her ear.

“So I lied. I just wanted to see you.”

“House,” she whimpered as he lips found her neck.

“Shh….” His hands covered her like a warm blanket. “Let me undress you.”

His hands slid into her pajama bottoms and her neck fell back against him. Both hands cupped her mound, and she cried out as he began to touch her, awakening sensations that had been dormant for years.

They fell to the ground, a soft surface she couldn’t identify, and he touched her teasingly.

“House, I don’t want to wait. Please.” She begged him as he touched her feather light, driving her crazy. She sighed, her orgasm coming without permission. She thrashed and rolled against him.

Suddenly, he pulled back. “We have to wait.”

“What? No, I want you.” She grabbed at him, but she couldn’t reach him.

“Then you have to tell me.”

Her eyes flew open. Her body was hot, wet, and shaking. She pushed the covers back, and got out of bed, mind reeling. It was still pitch black outside. She gasped for air, biting her hand to gain control of herself.

The tears came fast and her body shook with grief.

She couldn’t take this anymore. She grabbed her keys and ran out of her bedroom.

In the Hues of a Life (1/10)

2009-07-03T13:50:08Z

In the Hues of a Life
By Jules
(1/10)
Rating: M
Synopsis: An exploration of Cuddy’s side of House’s recovery and hallucinations.
A/N: Please read and review and let me know if anything doesn’t make sense. A little spoilery for season 6, but not much. I'm a little unsure of the subject matter, but I thought I'd give it a go and see if I could do it any justice. Enjoy!

As dreams are the fancies of those that sleep, so fancies are but the dreams of those awake.—Blount.

* * *
Chapter 1

* * *
….that Gregory House, M.D. is of sound body and mind to return to his medical practice. If you have any questions or concerns, do not hesitate to contact me.

Sincerely,

Dr. M. Nolan
Mayfield Psychiatric Hospital
609-457-7232

She stared at the handwritten note, took a deep breath, and nodded once to Wilson.

“Okay.”

* * *

She hadn’t seen House since she took him to Wilson’s office that awful day in May.

“I can stay if—”

“No. Go home to your daughter,” he had said hollowly, his red-rimmed eyes full of remorse, his words benign and carefully chosen to hide an apology.

“I’ll come as soon as—”

“No,” he had cut her off again. “No.”

She had taken a deep breath and looked at Wilson dejectedly. “I want updates daily. That’s non-negotiable.”

And with that, she had left, moving down the hall like a sharpshooter on a mission. She didn’t break down at the hospital again.

She only had been able to make it to her car.

* * *

She nearly chewed her pencil down to the lead as she waited now.

9:25 A.M. He would be here in an hour at best.

She tried not to second-guess her decision to bring him back. Vaguely, she realized that wanting the selfish jerk here was in direct opposition to the initial reason she had fired him.

She had never questioned her own sanity before.

* * *

She was right. 10:32 A.M.

If she hadn’t been standing at the nurse’s station, she would have missed him completely.

The click of his cane against the linoleum floor betrayed him as he made an uncharacteristically quiet entrance.

She swallowed, watching his retreating back and downcast eyes.

She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to act now. After all, she had been more his fantasy than his reality for months.

To be someone’s fantasy—it was almost a violation. No, it was selfish. He knew things, vivid things about them, and she was the one left behind: angry, confused, and humiliated.

He knew everything, and now, he couldn’t even look at her.

She almost hated him.

“Dr. Cuddy!”

“What, Brenda?!” Cuddy snapped, her eyes flashing at the innocent nurse for interrupting their one-sided moment of intimacy.

“Psych on line 3.”

* * *

The day was painfully slow. She had yet to hear from the diagnostic department, and it was driving her nuts. 2:16 P.M.

She tapped her chewed pencil against the edge of her desk. Curtis Brown, a prominent donor, spoke lively and encouragingly into her ear. She sighed, closing her eyes and pressing her pointer finger and thumb against the bridge of her nose.

“Dr. Cuddy? What do you think?” She tried to focus on the conversation again and turned away from her door.

“Your ideas for the pediatric wing are inspiring, however, it takes more than a generous donation to change hospital policy, sir.”

She grimaced, pulling back the phone as Curtis went into a full-blown entitlement rant. How many times had House stood in front of her, full of pride, arrogance, and absolute genius? Even when he had been blatantly wrong, she had listened every time.

“ ….but I expected so much more from you, Dr. Cuddy,” Curtis cut into her thoughts, and Cuddy jerked to attention.

“I understand that, sir, and I apologize. But we have to deal with reality. I wanted the proposal to go through just as much as you did. Unfortunately, that’s not what happened and the board’s decision stands. It can’t be helped.”

“No, that’s not what happened.”   Her eyes shot up. He was there; her heart raced and she dropped the phone, Curtis’ voice fading to the background.

House looked at her with stark conviction, “You helped me.”

She looked in his bright, haunted eyes, so many questions seizing her. Her throat was dry as she finally whispered to him like she had wanted to for months, “Did I?”

The phone buzzed in the background—no one was there anymore.

* * *
She lay down on her couch and closed her eyes. She couldn’t concentrate or work, and she felt sick at the idea that this was going to be their relationship now. Distantly professional.

But she could feel him laughing at her, mocking her softly from the center of the room. “You’re an idiot,” she heard him say.

A smile crept across the corners of her mouth.

“You want to know everything?” He asked, sitting next to her.

“Yes.” It had been too long with their only communication being doctor’s notes.

He placed his hand over hers. “I don’t think you can handle it.”

“How long have you wanted this?”   She pulled his palm towards her.

“Always.”

Her chest rose as she took in his words.    Slowly, she felt the buttons of her jacket pop open, and she arched her back releasing herself from the unwanted material.

“What have you done to me?”

“What you wanted.” Their hands were together, sliding down her body, touching the curves and valleys reverently. It must have been like this; she twined her fingers with his, jealous fingers grappling over his, the sensations stinging deliciously through her nerves.

Their hands played their way down her body, and she mewed as she imagined him inside her, riding her desperately, depending on her to be there in the morning and the day after that.

“I want you to….” She bit her lip in frustration, tears welling in her eyes as she tried to touch his face. His breath hovered above her sex, teasing her with unspoken promises and secrets.

“What?” He asked faintly.

“I want….”

“Say it, Cuddy.”   His fingers slid away from her, and she growled, reaching for him again desperately.

“Make me come, House.

God—” Their fingers pushed her into her together, and she nearly jumped as the combined pressure blanched out her mind and body; there was nothing in the room but his touch and her hands. “Just…Right there—”

The knock was harsh, and she groaned as her eyes flew open in a panicked flush.

“Goddamn it.”

Unsatisfied, she pushed her skirt down and stood up on an uneven floor. She tucked in her blouse and slid back into her blazer. She checked herself in her mirror. She only felt half-crazed; she looked amazing.

Somewhat remade, she strode towards her rattling door.

She couldn’t do anything to hide the fever in her face.   She swung the door open, and there he was. Tired and somewhat older, like a hero returning from his odyssey, House looked at her expectantly. His eyes were still penetrating, still deeper than the ocean.

“Cuddy.”

She willed her blush away but failed completely, unable to hide a small smile at the sight of him. “Welcome back, House.”

Hang(over) II (5/5)

2009-06-22T03:04:09Z

Hang(over) II
by Jules
(5/5)
T+
Synopsis: Aftermath to 5.23, Sequel to Hang(over). House comes home from the mental institution with Cuddy.
A/N: Final chapter! There’s room for a sequel to this one too, but I may want to start another story altogether. Let me know. Thanks for reading/reviewing! Enjoy!

* * *

Indefinitely turned out to be three weeks and three days.

* * *
It had been an accident, one that Cuddy hadn’t foreseen, but such was the nature of accidents.

* * *

House was almost docile at work. His mouth was loquacious as ever, but he gave the board no signs of erratic behavior they so keenly expected to see.

* * *

House and Cuddy had fallen into an easy living pattern, strange, yet completely comfortable and acceptable to them both.

They began sharing a bed the evening he agreed to live with her. He watched her get dressed for work the next morning, but she never made it out of her bedroom. He undressed her slowly and they made love. They were both late for his first day back at PPTH.

It was the first time Cuddy could remember not giving a damn, and it felt wonderful.

She smiled at him, the bed sheets twisted around her waist. “Happy?”

He leaned into her, his eyes filled with her, his voice tinged with mirth, “Only with you.”

She kissed his shoulder tenderly, realizing that his own personal demons would never truly cease; but if she could give him some glimmer, some frame of a life, the rest may eventually fade into a distant memory.

Hope is so easy when you are in love.

* * *

And he was good with Rachel. Cuddy didn’t press him on the matter, because she knew he would never admit to it, but she could tell he had an odd, yet real affection for her daughter.

He would talk to the little girl like she was an adult, read her bedtime stories from medical journals, and watch everything from soap operas to Baywatch with her.

Cuddy almost put her foot down with Baywatch. “She is a baby, House.”

“Ew, don’t insult her like that.”

So Baywatch stayed.

* * *

One night, when Cuddy got home late from the Christmas hospital fundraising meeting, she found House and Rachel stretch out on her sofa, totally engaged in Wrestlemania. Rachel was plopped on House’s lap, sucking her thumb and twirling House’s beard.

Cuddy shut the door quietly and didn’t interrupt them.

She went back to her bedroom, and shed her work clothes. She took an indulgent bath, using the soaps and scents she knew House loved. She brushed her hair and smiled to herself, unable to get the image of them out of her mind.

She actually had a family.

She walked back into her living room, ready to join them. Wrestlemania had changed to an episode of NCSI, and the volume was elevated.

She didn’t see Rachel.

House was passed out on the couch, and she didn’t see the baby. She didn’t see—

“House! HOUSE! Where’s Rachel? Where’s—” House jumped at the shrillness in her voice. His hands went to his chest, immediately missing the weight of his TV companion.

He looked in Cuddy’s frantic eyes, unable to speak, unable to offer an explanation.

“RACHEL!” Cuddy yelled, running frantically around the room, turning all of the lights on as gunfire rang out from the TV screen. “Why weren’t you watching her, House? She’s a baby! You have to watch her!”

“I’m—”

“Goddamn it, House! I can’t believe I trusted you—”

“Cuddy. Look.”

Underneath the coffee table, Rachel was fast asleep, not a care in the world.

At the same time, House and Cuddy reached for her, but Cuddy glared at him. “I’ve got her.”

* * *

They went to bed that night but didn’t touch.

“I’m…” He tried again, miserable at apologizing.

“No.” She kept her back to him. “I wasn’t thinking.”

* * *

In the middle of the night, Cuddy padded into the kitchen, finding House sitting at the table, staring at an empty coffee cup. She had trouble falling asleep next to him, and now that he was gone, she still couldn’t sleep. She went straight to the stove and turned on the eye. “More coffee?”

He nodded, watching her precise movements. She was more beautiful to him like this, disheveled, raw, no make-up. He would never tell her, but he actually liked morning now, spending time with her and Rachel.

God. He had screwed up.

“House.” Her voice was heavy; her head was down.

“This isn’t gonna work,” he said before she could.

She froze, and for a moment, he thought she was going to fight him. But she exhaled and nodded. “We tried.”

House stood up, trying to stop the knot in his chest, trying to keep breathing, self-protection kicking in. He said lightly, “And as the fallen say, what now?”

Going straight to business, she said quickly, “Nothing has to change at work. I would never…”

House tried to laugh but couldn’t. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Cuddy.”

She touched his arm, gripping his wrist possessively. “I want you in my life.”

“You can’t always get what you want.” He didn’t know which one of them he was talking about, but he knew he couldn’t stay. They would hate him one day, and no amount of happiness was worth that.

They kissed until they felt the early morning light hit them, the hangover gone, replaced by the soberness and harsh reality of day.

THE END

Hang(over) II (4/5)

2009-06-19T12:37:21Z

Hang(over) II
By Jules
T+
4/5
A/N: This story feels freakishly AU. Thanks for reading! Enjoy!
Synopsis: Aftermath of 5.23. Sequel to Hang(over).

“Are you hallucinating too?”

Cuddy smiled wryly. “I’m of sound mind, House.”

“Is Culver blackmailing you? Maybe Wilson! That dog…”

“I think we should move in together.”

House shifted uncomfortably. “Why? I may have missed out on my Must Be Anal courses in college, but I’m pretty sure the board would never force you into something this idiotic.”

“No, but I am responsible for you and your actions.”

“Says who?!”

“The board. Unanimously.”

House looked away, smiling stupidly despite himself. “Cuddy, you can’t control me.”

This she knew. But that wasn’t her style, had never been. When she wanted something from him, she never went through him but around, sideways, and backwards again until he had no choice.

“No, but I can watch your every move and dive in front of you before you have another train wreck, getting us both fired.”

He narrowed in on her. “So your job is on the line. The truth behind the lies.”

“Only because I fought for your job in the first place. I didn’t have to do it,” she answered smugly. She hated having to justify her actions. That’s why she was the boss, so she didn’t have to answer to anyone. Especially House.

“I knew there was something else,” he pressed. He couldn’t take the static unknowing. He grabbed the marker from the floor and began to write furiously across the other symptoms.

“House—”

“Cuddy’s lying,” he pronounced and underlined in big, bold and black letters.

She grabbed the marker from him, scratching out his new symptom. “I’m not lying.”

“Oh, excuse me. Withholding vital information about my brain!”

Cuddy threw down the marker. “If you wanted to remember, you would. You remember everything else. Everything. You’re like a goddamn encyclopedia. It’s like it never even happened—”

“What happened?!” House shouted, shocking her and Rachel, sending the baby into a fit of wails.

“We had sex, you asshole!” Cuddy screamed, too upset to edit.

Rachel cried as they fell silent. Cuddy kneeled and picked up the baby, soothing her just as much as herself.

House just stared at her in disbelief. Their eyes met again, but they were unable to read each other. House seemed confused; she seemed apprehension and almost regretful.

The baby calmed, resting her head on her mother’s shoulder. Wordlessly, Cuddy carried Rachel to the nursery, putting her down. She stood over her longer than necessary, but she needed to gather herself before she rejoined House. She hadn’t planned on telling him ever; but now that she had, she had no idea what to do.

House wasn’t there when she returned.

She wondered if he would ever come back. After all, he (well, they) had avoided this coupling for years, almost successfully. In all honesty, after sex, was there room for an actual relationship? Her token answer had always been a solid no.

There was nothing serious or stable in what they had. Most of the time, it was just there, taunting them like silly schoolgirls.

But the hope, the hope of something more, each and every time brought her back, made it possible for her to hang on.

She turned the porch light on, just in case.

* * * *

Later that night, she felt the bed sag next to her. She didn’t want to open her eyes.

House’s voice was ragged with bourbon as he spoke. “When? That time in….or that unfortunate incident on the couch last week?”

Cuddy stared at his hunched back. He was inebriated. “Right before.”

“Jim Beam doesn’t do shit for your memory, but I would ‘member that.”

“Maybe you don’t want to,” she whispered.

House laughed sardonically. If only she knew. If he could wipe out anything, that would be at the bottom of his list.

“Was it…?” His words hung in the air. His imagination was vivid with scenarios: dirty ones, S&M ones, lesbian ones, even whimsical, romantic ones.

Hot, clean, and sober. Perfect.

But the reality? He looked at her, and he couldn’t see it.

She touched his hand softly. “Yes.”

“No wonder you’re nesting around me.” He leaned in closer, wandering what he said, did, touched that made her say yes to it all.

She smiled sadly.

“House. Go to sleep.”

* * *

The next morning, House walked into the kitchen and unceremoniously sat at the breakfast table. Cuddy had her back to him, feeding Rachel Cheerios.

“Okay.”

“Huh?” She turned around and stared at him quizzically.

“I’ll move in. At least until the voodoo wears off.” House pushed off his seat and picked Rachel up from her high chair.

“House. Put her down. She’s not done eating—”

“What do you say, Rachel Ray,” he wiggled the little girl’s arms, making her laugh. “What else can we make mommy do?”

Hang(over) II (3/5)

2009-06-19T00:26:06Z

Hang(over) II
By Jules
(3/5)
A/N: Sequel to Hangover, aftermath of 5.23. I pretty much went the opposite way of the show, mainly because I honestly didn’t believe it would be an hallucination. Alas….

House stood in her bedroom door, watching her get dressed unapologetically on a chilly Monday November morning. The first time he had caught her getting dressed had been an accident, now it had become one of their “things.”

Every morning after her shower, he would stop outside her door. Each day, the door would be opened a little wider. She would fain indignation for a second then proceeds to get dressed.

It used to take her two minutes to get ready for work.

Now, she took a solid fifteen minutes to don all of her clothing.

House pouted, “I want to go back to work too.”

Cuddy rolled her eyes. He had used the same line for the past five days. “You haven’t even been home a full week.”

“You don’t trust me yet.” He watched her slip her skirt over her legs and hike it up with a swish of her hips.

“When have I ever trusted you?” Her side zipper rattled as she caught his eyes through her dresser mirror.

“You could sit in on my differentials. Monitor my every move.” Her fingers glided down the buttons of her shirt.

“Oh my God. You’ve actually managed to get sick of General Hospital.”

“Never. I just need…” His thought process screeched to a halt when she sat on her bed and began to rub lotion on her legs. This had become his absolute favorite part of her morning process. “...outer stimulation.”

“Black heels by the door.” She caught them one at a time as he tossed them her way. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

He studied her. She was focusing on becoming 3 inches taller instead of him. “No….That’s not it. You’re not telling me something.”

Her heels clicked against the floor as she walked closer to him, snapping a gold stud in her right earlobe. “I just don’t want you to have any setbacks. That’s all.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, watching more gold glitter on her wrist and neck. “Fine. I guess I’ll just have to teach the wee bambino how to drive the motorcycle while mommy’s at work.”

“Don’t you dare take Rachel on that death mobile!” Her necklace fell down the front of her blouse before she could hook it.

House leaned forward, catching a glimmer of gold nestled at her waistline. He lifted the tail of her shirt and pulled it free. Gingerly, he turned her around, lifted her hair, and fastened her necklace back in place. “Let me come back to work,” he whispered.

Cuddy’s brow furrowed. “No.”

“Anna!” House bellowed down the hall. “You can take the day off! Cuddy’s letting me babysit today!”

“Anna! Who pays you?” Cuddy countered smoothly.

“I’m not going anywhere, Dr. Cuddy,” Anna replied, not missing a beat.

Cuddy picked up her briefcase and pushed him out of her bedroom. “Back on my couch, Mister.”

House scoffed but moved anyway. “This isn’t forever, you know.”

* * *

“Dr. Cuddy. We’ve been waiting,” stated Dr. Culver, president of the board.

Cuddy didn’t waist anytime. “I want to talk about reinstating Dr. House as the Head of Diagnostics.”

“I see. You know our position. I’m not sure I see the point in bringing this up again. The vote was unanimous, including you, if I recall correctly.”

“I think it’s imperative we revisit this. He’s made vast improvements over the past few months. I can say with total confidence that he will be able to return and perform his duties in a healthy physical and mental state.”

“Cuddy, you know very well there are no guarantees when it comes to him,” Wilson said quietly.

“You have my guarantee.”

Eyes played around the room, skeptical, some even darkly gleeful. Cuddy was always going out on a limb for House but never quite like this. The results could be disastrous, especially for the Dean.

“Very well. As Dean of Medicine, you and you alone are solely responsible for him. Any deviant behavior or sign of mental instability, you will be held accountable for his actions. All in favor….”

* * *

Cuddy wasn’t sure what she had gotten herself into, however, when she opened her front door that evening, she found a surprising site she wasn’t really sure how to take. “What are you doing?”

House grinned and Rachel giggled at the site of her mother. “Early education. Besides, she likes the pictures.”

House had commandeered Rachel’s never used easel, making it his new white board.

Symptoms streamed down the pastel paper:
Hallucinations
Trauma to the frontal lobe
Heart attack
Coma
Head aches
Insomnia
Vicodin
Memory Loss
CUDDY

The room was scatted with books from Cuddy’s library. Cuddy dropped her briefcase and picked up Rachel, who was sitting on page 158 of a very large textbook. House frowned, “Hey! She was holding my place!”

He snatched the baby back and gave her a magic marker.

“My daughter isn’t a bookmark, House.” She kicked the book, slamming it shut. The title flashed boldly across the cover, freezing her.

“Neurobehavioral Impairment and Maladaption, 2nd Edition,” she read and then looked at him sympathetically, her irritation evaporating. “House….”

House rolled his eyes at her sappy expression. “Oh, please. Like you want to watch Barney and Friends one more day than you have to. I’m helping you.”

Cuddy put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “If you want to talk—”

House glanced at her hand, and then down at his magic marker. “I don’t.”

Cuddy sighed, letting it go. She knew she couldn’t make him do anything. He was the equivalent to a human rock.

“You eaten yet?” She called from the kitchen.

“Waiting on you. Ray Charles ate about an hour ago with Anna.”

Cuddy peaked inside the living room, eyeing the odd couple. Something inside of her swelled, feeling greedy at the picture they made just for her, as House scribbled down more clues and Rachel chewed on the end of the green marker.

She leaned against the doorframe. “House, I spoke to the board today about reinstating you.”

“And?” House looked up from his puzzle.

“They agreed.”

House smirked. “Sometimes I think you can walk on water, Boss.”

Cuddy took a deep breath. What she agreed to was convoluted and ridiculous. But she was in, and there was no way to do this but full capacity. “I have some conditions.”

House raised his eyebrows. “Sounds dirty and horribly le-gal.”

“You can think of it as voluntary prison if you like.”

“Huh?’

“You have to live here with me indefinitely.”

Hang(over) II (2/5)

2009-05-15T21:23:46Z

Hang(over) II
By Jules
(2/5)

A/N: So funny side note story about my reaction to the finale. My girlfriends and I get together on Monday’s and cook and watch House. So after the big “shocker” ending, 7 of us sat there STUPEFIED for a solid 5 minutes without saying a word. It didn’t matter that half of them called the hallucination 4 months ago (I was in staunch denial, I’ll admit it)—we were just blown away.

That said, I’ll confess. I think TPTB went in the right direction. Anyway, enjoy the next chapter. Feedback is welcomed and appreciated. :)

Part 2

House’s chest was heavy and he couldn’t breathe. For a moment, he thought this was the beginning of death. He had had many of those moments in the hospital when he didn’t believe he could go on anymore, but he would imagine her face, and he knew he couldn’t leave her behind.

His imagination was vivid. He didn’t know if it was the hallucinations coming back in a crueler form, so he chose not to trust anything.

So he went through hell for her knowing they were impossible. He hoped only to see her again. That would be enough.

However, when he opened his eyes, she was there, fast asleep on him.

It…was strange. Different.

It was…nice.

He adjusted them slowly, as to not wake her. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been able to get this close to her with the luxury of examination. Cuddy had an imperfect face, which made her all the more beautiful to him. Soft shadows were cast under her eyes, and her hand held his t-shirt possessively.

He wondered if she had been crying.

He wondered how she got here. And why.

For months she had been distant. The tension was still there. Hell, the tension had always been there, but she had put a cool arm’s length between them after he had screwed everything up with some inappropriate PDA.

He had thought he didn’t want a relationship. But the more distance she created, the closer he wanted to be.

Tentatively, he caressed her cheek, exploring his new proximity to her. His hand traveled down the side of her ribcage, and he couldn’t help but apply pressure, allowing himself the pleasure of feeling her. His body was flush against hers, molding to her every curve. Her warmth and breath radiated against his skin.

He had never been more turned on in his life.

Suddenly, her eyes flew open.

Her eyes were bright, vibrant, and filled with something he didn’t understand.

“Do you—?” She started, her eyes searching his hopefully.

He didn’t know what was going on with her, but her face, eyes, the way she was looking at him…He couldn’t take it. He wanted her in a way that was primal and necessary.

It happened fast and rough, and they didn’t kiss as he pulled her sweatpants down with a hard jerk or when she yanked at his zipper until he was hard and out. They didn’t take the time to undress or talk or really think about what they were doing. In a second, he was inside of her deep and fucking her hard, so hard, and it was almost worth it until she began to cry.

“I can’t do this.” She pushed against his chest, separating herself from him. Devastated. “I’m sorry.”

House followed her up, his head exploding. “Cuddy. What the hell is going on?”

“I just wanted….But you’re…You’re not—” She paced back and forth, unable to control her tears.

“Good enough.” The words stung his lips, bitter and true. “I know.”

Cuddy stopped pacing and stared at his slumped shoulders and defeated form. “House, no—”

“Cuddy, I get it. A pity fuck is still a fuck,” he said sardonically. He limped closer to her, pain etching his face. He shrugged and said quietly, “I would never turn you down.”

“No, House. I just want you to remember,” she pleaded, almost touching his face but her hand froze, dangling mid air between them.

“I remember enough. I should go.” House went for the door, forgetting his suitcase behind. “This was a shitty idea. Guilt and recovery never go hand in hand.”

She followed him to the door and slammed her hand on it before he could open it.

“Please. Stay.”

He exhaled and kept his eyes on the door. “Why?”

She shrugged, feeling weak and helpless. “Because you want to.”

His jaw tightened. “Not good enough.”

“Because I want you to.” He finally looked at her. He had never seen her like this. The closest he could remember was when she lost Joy. This was different. This wasn’t about losing a baby.

This was about him.

“Only if you stop lying to me.”

Cuddy scoffed. Somehow between keeping her promise to him and their unresolved feelings, she’d forgotten her resolve to stay away from him. “You’re right. This is a shitty idea.”

“Something’s happening.” House took her hand, unsure what to do next. Romantic gestures weren’t his strong suit. “Something’s happened.”

Cuddy sighed, self-loathing filling her. “You’re recovering, and I’m getting in the way. That’s what’s happening.”

He shook his head perceptively. “You’re freaking out.”

That set her off. “Yes! You were hallucinating for weeks and you almost killed yourself. I couldn’t help you. I—”

“Who took me to the hospital?”

She looked away from him. “House, that’s not the—”

“Who?” He made her look at him again.

“Wilson. And me,” she admitted quietly.

House nodded. “Then you helped me.”

Cuddy smirked self-consciously and lowered her eyes. “Jumping you twelve hours after your release isn’t. There’s something wrong with me.”

House stepped closer to her and whispered in her ear, “Then I hope it’s a permanent condition.”

She shook her head, eyes sad. “Nothing’s permanent, House.” He let go of her hand, and he watched her flee to the back of the house.

Hang(over) II (1/5)

2009-05-15T04:25:06Z

Hang(over) II
by Jules
T+
1/5

Synopsis: Continuation of Hang(over). My version of the aftermath of 5.23.

A/N: So if you haven’t read this first part, I pretty much went in the other direction from canon in 5.24, but it’s still angsty. They did make love, however, the hallucinations never stopped. House was admitted to the loony bin and was treated with electroshock therapy. The side affect: he lost memory of the events preceding the treatment.

Part 1

They rode in awkward silence to Cuddy’s house, glancing at each other periodically, waiting for the other to speak, to make their sudden union make sense. Something was different about her, but House couldn’t figure out what. His eyes roamed over her body—everything seemed in place, breasts taunt, muscles firm, hips perfectly curvaceous.

No, her anatomy seemed more than intact.

She caught him staring.

“What?”

“You want something from me. Otherwise, you would have let Wilson pick me up.”

“Yes,” was all she said.

* * *

House labored the distance to her doorstep. Cuddy turned around, unable to take his pain anymore. “Let me take your bag,” she offered.

“I got it.” His pride wouldn’t let her help him, although he wanted nothing more than to throw his things down and let her carry him the rest of the way.

Cuddy opened the door to her house. House stepped inside, immediately noticing how much it had changed since the last time he had been there. It was completely domestic. Cuddy was really a mom now, as much as he loathed the idea. She had done it. She had her own fabricated family of two plus nanny.

“You can put it in the guest room,” Cuddy instructed. House took in the distance to the back rooms verses the short few steps to her fru-fru girly sofa.

“I can just sleep on the couch.”

“House, you’d be more comfortable—”

“No, you’d be more comfortable. Stop it, mommy.” House plopped down on her sofa and shut her and the world out as he closed his eyes, his body sore and confused from the day’s events.

“Fine. Be miserable on my couch. I don’t care. I’m gonna go check on Rachel.” Cuddy escaped to the back of the house. She shut the nursery door and finally let herself exhale.

“Is everything alright?” Her nanny Anna asked innocently.

Cuddy turned around and plastered a fake smile on her face. “It’s fine. You’re free to go now.”

* * *

Not ten minutes later, House found himself standing at the nursery door, watching Cuddy play with the baby on the floor. He tapped his cane on the wood almost shyly. She looked up at him and smiled slowly.

“What’s for dinner?” He said the first thing that came to mind. At least it was better than ‘I don’t want to be alone.’

She narrowed her eyes at him, and for a moment, he thought she saw through him. “You’re a bottomless pit. We just ate an hour ago.”

He shrugged and smiled sheepishly. “My endocrine system demands it.”

Suddenly, her face went ashen. “What?”

House shook his head, his mind clouded and aching. “Side affect of the brain zappage. Random verbiage flies out at will.”

“Oh,” she recovered quickly, replacing her disappointment with a cheeky grin. “So…you have no control over your mouth. How is that any different than before?”

“Touché.” House grinned just as Rachel squealed, demanding to be picked up. He locked eyes with the little girl, no longer a blob of flesh, but a little person with bright, aware eyes taking in everything around her. He had been able to ignore her existence for months, but that didn’t seem possible anymore. Cuddy lifted the little girl and the child nestled against her shoulder. House had waited long enough. It was his turn now. “So are you gonna tell me?”

“What?” Cuddy frowned as she swayed and rubbed Rachel’s back.

“Why are you doing this?” He pointed awkwardly between the two of them.

She held the baby closer, letting her be a natural barrier. “You’re my friend, House.”

He stared at her, analyzing every flinch, blink, swallow, and dilating pupil. Her reasoning was completely unscientific. “Friend,” he said skeptically.

“Yes, friend.” Rachel laughed, calling her mother out on her lie.

“You’re blushing.” House took a step closer to her.

“I need to put her down.” However, Cuddy didn’t move. House came closer to the two of them. The baby was wide awake. He could feel the energy coming off of Cuddy in waves.

He didn’t know what to do now that he was here. He looked at Rachel for help.

“She’s gotten big. Like a little Chihuahua with hair.”

Rachel pointed her finger at him accusingly. “Bug.”

House rolled his eyes. “Oh, great. It speaks.”

“Boo boo!” Rachel stuck her short finger in his chest.

“Perceptive kid.” House scoffed and quickly left them alone.

* * *

It took an hour to put Rachel to sleep. Cuddy didn’t mind. She needed time to think, and she couldn’t do that with House looking over her shoulder. She closed the nursery door and stepped into the hallway. It was quiet, except for the buzz of the t.v. from the living room.

“House?” She called out. He didn’t answer, so she peeked inside the living room. Bea Arthur was singing “What’ll I Do?” on The Golden Girls.

When I’m alone
With only dreams of you
That won’t come true
What’ll I do?

“House?” She whispered again. He was asleep on the couch. He look exhausted, but almost, almost peaceful. At least, that’s what she wanted to believe.

“House,” she said again, to hear his name out loud, to make sure he was really here with her. Tears came fast as she sat next to him. She had to cover her mouth to hide her sobs and suppress her voice. “House,” she said again and again, until she was exhausted, until she had convinced herself that he wasn’t a dream or a hallucination, until she lay her head down on his chest and faded into real dreams. “House.”

Hang(over) (5/5)

2009-05-11T04:23:53Z

Hang(over)
By Jules
(5/5)

A/N: So this is the last chapter of this fic. It may need a sequel, I dunno yet. It really depends how much the season finale pisses me off ;) Thanks for reading and reviewing! You guys have been great!

Part 5

“Is everything ready?” Cuddy paced anxiously in her office as she talked to her housekeeper on her cell phone. Wilson stuck his head through the door. She nodded at him to enter. “No, don’t go over the top. I don’t want him to feel out of place. Right. Okay, bye.”

“It’s today, isn’t it?” Wilson smiled supportively.

“Yeah.” Cuddy grinned nervously. “How do I look?”

“Kinda nuts, honestly.”

“Wilson!” She punched his arm.

“You look beautiful,” he said begrudgingly as he rubbed his sore shoulder.

“Thank you.” She went to her desk and grabbed her purse.

Wilson stepped in front of her and leveled with her. “You sure you want to do this?”

Cuddy nodded confidently. “I promised him.”

“I know, but Cuddy—”

She shook her head, stopping him. “I don’t want to hear it, Wilson. I can handle this.”

* * *

“The treatment’s been very successful. He hasn’t suffered from any hallucinations in two weeks. His cognitive skills are slightly weakened, but with rehab and time, he should make a full recovery,” Dr. Tischner explained to Cuddy as they stood in the sterile waiting room of Greystone Park Psychiatric Hospital.

“Can I see him now?” She asked, anxious to get them home and away from here.

“This way.”

* * *

She walked into his room and froze. He was sitting on the bed, his back to her, hunched over.

“House?” She ventured tentatively.

He stiffened and looked over his shoulder. His eyes narrowed with disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to take you home.” She took a couple of steps towards him. He looked scruffy. Good, but scruffy. She smiled and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You’re outpatient now.”

He looked down at her hand, then at her again. “Oh.”

“And I thought…” She took a seat next to him and put her hand over his. “…if you wanted, it might be easier if you stayed with me for a while.”

“You want me there?” He asked, almost childlike.

She nodded reassuredly. “Everything’s taken care of—”

He shook his head, suddenly incredibly uncomfortable with her and her expectant eyes and their entwined fingers. “I’d rather be at my place than stuck at your potpourri baby nest.”

He threw her hand away.

Cuddy froze, taken aback. He had always been an ass, but something was off. “…okay. If that’s what you want. I just thought after…”

He stood up from the bed, getting away from her. He felt hot and panicked. “What?”

Cuddy’s heart raced as she stared into his distrusting eyes and remembered every hot, delicate, dangerous touch they had share. Every moment, sigh, kiss danced through her mind like a waltz on air.

She blushed at the memory. His cheeks remained pale.

She swallowed, willing the tears back, forcing herself to remain calm for him. “It’s nothing. Um. I’ll let you get dressed.”

She had to get out of there.

“Cuddy.” He didn’t want her to go. It was selfish, but he felt incredible alone the second she began to walk away from him.

“Yeah?” She stopped at the door but didn’t look at him.

“Just for a night or two.”

“Okay. Yeah. Okay.” She tried to process what she was doing, what she was getting herself, them into. “I’ll wait for you.”

She watched him turn around and go to his drawers. But she couldn’t leave it like this. She had to know.

“House.”

“Yeah?”

She smiled sadly and forced herself to ask, “What’s the last thing you remember?”

His head dropped, unanswered questions spiraling through his mind, as he closed his eyes, seeing nothing but beautiful ghosts.

“Kutner.”

The End

Hang(over) (4/5)

2009-05-09T21:04:04Z

Hang(over)
By Jules

A/N: All I have to say is this: if the show doesn’t go in this direction, then I can totally handle anything they have to throw at me Monday. Enjoy. Thanks for the reviews!

Part 4

Wilson stared through the glass into House’s hospital room. Cuddy sat by his side, holding his hand.

Dr. Carter, House’s attending, stepped next to Wilson and peered into the room. After the incident, the rumor mill had run wild, but luckily, no one had a clue that House had suffered from a psychotic break. “He’s lucky you two were there. How long has he been suffering from hallucinations?”

Wilson sighed as he watched Cuddy tend futilely to him. “I’ve known about it for a couple of weeks. It could be longer.”

“I’ll want to run a full psychiatric evaluation.”

“We’ve already ruled out M.S. and he’s been off the Vicodin for over 24 hours,” Wilson informed him.

“I see,” Carter raised his eyebrows. Unfortunately, that didn’t help his diagnosis. “Cuddy’s his medical proxy, correct? I’ll need her to sign the consent forms.”

“Why don’t you let me take care of that.” Wilson took the forms from Carter and gingerly pushed his way into House’s room.

Cuddy sat hunched over by his side, her eyes never leaving House’s still form.

He put a gentle hand on Cuddy’s shoulder. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she said quietly, defeated and exhausted.

“How are you holding up?’ Wilson asked as he kneaded her shoulder and looked at his unconscious best friend.

“I’m fine,” Cuddy lied and noticed the papers in Wilson’s other hand. “What are those?”

“Carter wants to run a full pysch.”

Cuddy inhaled and ripped the papers out of Wilson’s hand, crumbling them. “No.”

“What? Cuddy, that’s—”

“He wouldn’t want that. I’m not sending him away. I’m not plugging him up to a machine and frying his brain. I won’t do it. I’ll…” She reached for an answer she didn’t have. “I’ll take care of him myself.”

Wilson stepped back, blind-sighted by her anger and determination.

“Cuddy, you’re hardly in the position to—”

“I’ll make it work!” She yelled, hot, petulant tears running down her face. This was too much. Inaction meant his inevitable deterioration, but giving her consent meant he would lose everything, including himself.

Wilson watched her bring House’s hand against her chest protectively. Suddenly, he understood.

Softly, he stated more than asked, “You slept with him, didn’t you?”

Cuddy’s head dropped and she pulled House’s hand closer. “Oh Wilson, I screwed everything up. As long as we were…what we were…I could handle him…I could take care of him. Now, I don’t know what to do.”

Wilson nodded, knowing she couldn’t make this decision alone. “You need to sign the papers, Cuddy. He needs more than us. You need to give him that.”

“What if we lose him?” She whispered. “What if he doesn’t forgive me?”

“He’ll forgive you,” Wilson lied, saying what she needed to hear.

Cuddy put House’s hand down and smiled sadly at Wilson. “No, he won’t.”

* * * *

“Drink this.” Wilson passed her a cup of coffee.

Cuddy pushed it away. “I’m not thirsty.”

“Cuddy, Wilson.” Carter came out, a grave look on his face.

“Well?” Wilson stood up. Cuddy didn’t.

“It’s under my advisement that he is hospitalized and begins electroshock therapy immediately.”

“Cuddy?”

“It’s a…He’ll…” She stuttered, unable to form a coherent thought. She stood and walked towards House’s room. “I need to talk to him.”

* * * *

“Hey.” She smiled through her tears when she saw he was awake.

“Uh oh.” House’s eyes veered to the left. “She’s crying. It’s never good when she cries.”

Cuddy looked at the empty bed where his eyes were.

“Are you…are you still seeing Amber?” She whispered, trying to remain calm.

“She’s right there.” House pointed to Amber, no longer denying her presence or afraid of her. She was there.

“House. I need to ask you something.” Cuddy moved closer to him, capturing his full attention.

House’s eyes filled with her and he grinned slowly. “Of course, you can be on top next time.”

“House…” She laughed, despite herself.

House reached for her, touching her cheek softly. “Come on, Cuddy. You can say it.”

Reservations and fears damned, she leaned down and put her lips right next to his ear. She whispered secretly, “I loved every single second.”

House’s eyes glittered with the truth and her, and her turned to the empty bed and said proudly, “See? I told you it was real.”

Cuddy turned his face back to her. She took a deep breath. “House, you need help.”

His brow creased. “You did help.”

“Not enough. I want to ask you—I want you to tell me it’s okay to help you. Carter wants to do electroshock therapy.” House’s eyes dropped.

“You know what this means.”

“I do.” She broke, unable to contain her sorrow.

He tangled his fingers in her hair and kissed her, giving her permission in his touch, in his silent goodbye.

“At least you’re hotter than Nurse Ratchet.” He grinned wryly as he pulled away. “You’ll be here when it’s over?”

She nodded. “I’ll be here. I promise.”

It wasn’t a lie.

Hang(over) (3/5)

2009-05-09T05:26:27Z

Hang(over)
By Jules
A/N: This is a little on the dramatic side, but I couldn’t help myself. Enjoy. Thanks for the feedback!

Part 3

“Hey…” Amber’s sing-song voice bounced back and forth on either side of him, trying to get his attention. “Hey!”

“Ignoring you.” House plunged forward, trying to make his way to Wilson’s office without anyone noticing he had a new “friend.”

“You can’t ignore me. You don’t make the rules.” She was in front of him, walking backwards.

“Hogwash.” House spun around and hobbled back towards the elevator. He pressed the door close button repeatedly as she stalked him slowly. The door shut in her face.

He leaned back against the cool metal, relief washing over him.

When the door opened on the second floor, Amber was there again, smiling and blocking his way. “You know nothing you do is going to change her mind, right? No matter how great the pity fuck was, a woman like that will never end up with a loser like you.”

House snapped his fingers and closed his eyes.

“I command you to evaporate.”

Two interns turned around and stared at him.

Amber giggled, lacing her arm through his as he fumbled towards the balcony. “It’s a joke, really. You think any of her minions will believe you? I’m not even sure she believes it happened. That was some pretty serious denial going on back there.”

“Oh, she believes it,” House shouted at the air as Taub and Thirteen exited the elevator.

Taub looked at his boss, who he hadn’t seen in thirty-six hours, talking frantically to thin air. “Go get Wilson. And Foreman. Go.”

Thirteen disappeared into the elevator.

Amber’s eyes glittered with dark light, and she pushed herself up on the railing. “Yeah? How you gonna make sure?”

House’s breathing quickened, and he looked in her sparkling, vampiric eyes.

She smiled. “Do it.”

House banged his cane against the railing, pushing his unsteady feet against the bars. “Attention! Attention everyone! I slept with Lisa Cuddy!” He bellowed across the lobby. Cuddy turned around and stared at him, her mouth agape. Everyone was staring at her now. Silence fell over the lobby until a few snickers came from the first year med students. House panicked; Amber was right. They didn’t believe him and neither did she. He stepped higher on the railing and threw his cane into the sea of med students below. “You hear that, Rosenbaum? She is off the market! Mine!”

“House!” Cuddy yelled. Suddenly, she didn’t care what he was saying. It was in his eyes; he was still hallucinating. Cuddy dropped her files and ran the length of the lobby, pushing confused interns and suspicious residents out of her way. She didn’t realize she was crying until the elevator door shut behind her and she could see her own reflection.

“What’s wrong with him?” asked a first year med student.

“He must be high.” Nurse Brenda rolled her eyes and went back to her paperwork.

“House, get off the railing.” Taub approached him cautiously.

“Not until they believe me.” House took another step higher, his frail legs wobbling unsteadily.

Wilson ran down the staircase with Thirteen, his eyes wide as he saw his best friend leaning over the railing.

The elevators opened and Cuddy ran out.

“House, stop! Please,” she cried.

“I’m not crazy! You can’t deny me.”

“Heh. Maybe if you jump, she’ll admit it to the world.” Suddenly, Amber flipped over the railing.

“AMBER! I’ve got you—”

House flung his hand after her, his full weight going forward, and they were spinning together as their hands reached for each other, the engine roared in his ears, and he couldn’t see anything but her face and her hand and the blood as the windows crashed and they flipped over together, falling slowly into whiteness.

“House!” Cuddy screamed, reaching futilely for him as he began his decent. “Wilson, grab him! God—”

All hands flung forward.

Hang(over) (2/5)

2009-05-08T15:17:09Z

Hang(over)
By Jules
(2/5)

A/N: So I took one line from the promo, but it’s TOTALLY out of context. I’m pretty sure it’s not gonna go in this direction. The actual writers have more restraint than I do. Heh. Thanks for reading and responding!

Part 2

House barged into her office, not caring what she was doing or if anyone was in there. He slammed his cane down on her desk. “Why did you leave?”

Cuddy steeled herself, keeping her back to him as she finished her phone conversation. She had to pull herself together. “…yes, sir. I look forward to it as well. Alright then. Bye.”

“Why did you leave?” He asked again. She hadn’t even hung up the phone yet.

She turned to him and smiled icily. “Good. You’re here. I need you to sign this.”

Cuddy shoved a thick medical file at him. House sneered at it. Anger boiled, replacing his initial panic.

“Cuddy. I’m not signing a damn thing. Talk to me.”

“This is déjà vu. Do you need me to go back to your apartment and find your balls for you?” Amber’s nagging voice taunted him. He closed his eyes briefly, willing her away. His face twitched with pained effort.

“There’s nothing to talk about. You were detoxing, and I was stupid,” Cuddy said, unable to meet his eyes. She could tell he was hurting again. Already fighting her natural instincts; now, she had to squelch her compassion too.

He opened his eyes and moved slowly around her desk, his limp heavy and more pronounced. “Don’t pretend like I didn’t just rock your boring little compartmentalized world. I know you.”

She smirked and crossed her arms over her chest as her body reacted to his nearness. “You know me, House? You know what I need?”

He reached for her, pulling her against him hard. “You lost control and that scares the shit out of you. You need to get laid by me. Often.”

She pushed against his chest, but his hands circled her wrists, not letting her go. She hated being trapped. “I can’t give up everything for a drug addict! I have responsibilities, a baby, a—”

“That’s such crap. You’ve been with me every day for the past ten years. Hell, you chose to be with me.”

She lifted her chin, defiant. “A relationship with you isn’t the same thing as being your boss.”

His hand slipped to her breast, mirroring the crude actions of months earlier. Only this time, this time…was different. Her heart was racing, and he caressed her swell with such tenderness and knowledge, she couldn’t help but moan and lean into his touch. “You lost the employer-employee handbook a long time ago, and we both know it.”

“I can’t protect you anymore if we’re too close,” she whispered honestly. “Everything will change. People close to you always end up getting hurt.”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said naively, hopefully, sincerely.

She pressed her hand against his leathery cheek. “No, House.”

“I wouldn’t. Tell me you don’t want this.” He kissed her again, and their lips fused as if they had never parted. But it didn’t matter how good it felt, she knew in her gut that it wouldn’t last.

Better to quit cold turkey than suffer through months, years of a disastrous relationship.

“I…I don’t want this.” She broke away from his lips, forcing the words out.

House dropped her arms and backed up. “Tough. I do.”

She watched him retreat and head towards her door. “What the hell are you doing?”

A sly grin stretched across his face before he left. “Changing your mind.”