No Children, 5/16, PG13
Aug. 24th, 2008 10:23 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
damelolaTitle: No Children (part 5 of 16)
Author: Lola Lauriestein
Rating: R for language and some of the banter is getting a little more sexual!
Pairing: Cuddy/OMC, House/Cuddy, House, Cuddy, Wilson friendship.
Spoilers: Everything up to Wilson's Heart, takes place not long after.
Disclaimer: not-not-mine, House et al belong to David Shore, Fox etc. The song "No Children" is by The Mountain Goats, they are awesome and you should check them out.
Summary: Cuddy has a new boyfriend, House has a problem and Wilson is grieving. As matters go from bad to worse, will they be able to help each other as they once did? Friendships under strain and tough decisions ahoy.
With thanks to my awesome beta,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lucyvanflick! Thank you to everyone for your thoughtful and considered criticism so far, it's giving me so much confidence when something I really worked at goes over in the right way.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
“I hope the junkyard a few blocks from here someday burns down
And I hope the rising black smoke carries me far away
And I never come back to this town.”
Cuddy tried his home number and cell phone for the tenth time in quick succession but irritating recorded messages were the only responses she got.
The email from Zach glared at her accusingly from her inbox, seemingly fluorescent among the dozens of circulars and whining missives from heads of departments. One head of department was conspicuous by his absence. Even House wouldn’t push his late arrival until lunchtime. The need to rectify the embarrassment of last night had pushed Cuddy into full-on panic mode, and her next course of action was a midday ride to his apartment to checks on him. Either he was using their moment of madness to completely undermine her authority or, worse still, she had genuinely hurt him further at the worst possible time. Cuddy was beginning to understand why Stacy had looked so nervous in those last few months. The smoking habit was starting to look like an attractive distraction.
The unfamiliar area code on her cell display confused her momentarily, but she answered it with a hope bordering on desperation. Her knees almost gave out with relief at the sound of his voice.
“Cuddy?”
“House, thank God, where the hell are you? I’ve been trying to reach you all morning!”
His silence was calculated. She could imagine him choosing between the various levels of cutting for his reply.
“Another booty call, huh? Well, you’re shit out of luck, oh Dean of mine, because your latest victim is currently in the wilds of Connecticut.”
Filing away the explanation for the 860 area code, Cuddy pressed him for a reason.
“My dad called last night, seems things have gone from worrying to hopeless pretty fast. The exploratory surgery, well there’s been some complications. Her lungs are failing. He told me to come say goodbye. So, if you hear about any warrants out for the guy doing 110 up I-95, keep the cops off my tail okay?”
“God, I’m sorry, House. I seem to keep saying that, don’t I? Take whatever time you need, Foreman can keep your team in line. Maybe you can still have some time together, make the most of it.”
“Oh Cuddy, what would I do without you reminding me how to be human? Tin Man signing out.” With an abrupt click, he was gone.
Cuddy allowed herself a wobbly moment of relief and sadness, a shaky breath sufficient to steady her nerves. Her Blackberry had the agenda for the fundraising meeting on its screen, a meeting she was now at least ten minutes late for. Scurrying from her office, she kept the document open on its bright little display, unwilling to return to her inbox and the damn email she knew was awaiting her there.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
House surveyed the landscape common to most of his recent memories of his parents. Since his dad’s retirement, they had settled across the water from his last base, trading Groton for New London, the other side of the Thames. He wished he could conjure up a comforting childhood memory from this place, but those years had been spent in Japan, Egypt and on the original River Thames. He’d looked in on his mother repeatedly through the night, shrugging off the exhaustion of a three-hour drive, watching her fitfully sleep as her breathing labored under an oxygen mask. She’d been transferred back to her private room to ”rest” as she put it. He’d have given back every solved puzzle and arcane medical fact in his brain to be unaware that she meant being made comfortable in order to die, and tried to avoid listing the progressive development of what would surely be her final hours.
He ate a tasteless breakfast of cold toast in the hospital’s cafeteria, staring out at the Swordfish class submarine in the bay. American flags fluttered in the morning breeze, over the base and in every garden as far as the eye could see. House wondered if he should be feeling patriotic at the sight. Instead, he was only aware of something approaching resentment for the job and the lifestyle that had left him so rootless. Mostly he worried that his mother had been unhappy, stuck with the obligations of a Marine’s wife and a mother. Ironic enough that his parents finally had a permanent home but scarcely enough years to appreciate it.
At the heavy steps behind him, he turned to see his father’s increasingly shrunken form. Where once there had been height and the bulk of muscle there was simply an old man, albeit one with perfect posture and a fierce expression. Unconsciously, he straightened despite the pain in his leg and resisted the urge to salute. They regarded each other warily, permanent combatants in a necessary armistice of consideration for the sick woman along the corridor.
“She’s awake, asking for you.”
Never a pair to waste words, House took his instructions with a nod and made fairly brisk progress along the hall. Hesitating at the door, his father’s brusque cough propelled him forward into the sterile room. The disinfectant and musty smells of a hospital were better known to him than those of his own apartment, and yet he found his stomach churning, much like the nausea of his first days as an intern.
Easing himself carefully into the uncomfortable plastic chair by his mother’s bed, he reached for her hand with unaccustomed tenderness. The same hand that had smoothed his unruly curls, checked his forehead for fevers and occasionally dished out a well-deserved slap felt cool and clammy in his own. He caught her eye, noting the glassy quality provided by the post-operative fever that was causing her such trouble. House did his best to conjure a confident smile as she reached weakly for the oxygen mask with her free hand.
“Greg, I’m so glad you’re here. You didn’t threaten any of the doctors, did you? Remember these ones know how to fight.”
Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the warmth and humor that had been the touchstone of his life was still present in the gravest of times. How he wished that he could have one of his wacky life-saving ideas, but nothing could be coaxed from his exhausted gray matter.
“I know I don’t have much time. I want you to promise me that you’ll make peace with your father. I’ve never asked you to put up with it before, but you only have each other now. I just wish I wasn’t leaving you alone, Greg. I wanted so badly to see you happy again after Stacy,” she said wistfully.
House succeeded in not wincing at the mention of his most recent heartbreak, but it was a close-run fight. Hearing the sadness in his mother’s voice, he decided to take one last risk on her behalf, and for the first time in forty years he lied to her.
“I’ve met someone, Mom. It’s still early, but I’m happy again. She’s totally hot, too.”
His mother smiled from behind the mist on her plastic mask, and indicated with lifted eyebrows that he wasn’t getting away with so little detail.
“It’s been a secret, because of work. I don’t suppose you remember Dr. Cuddy? Lisa? Ok, the smirk I see now tells me that there’s nothing wrong with your memory. Well, anyway, things have been happening and I feel really good about it. So don’t you worry about me.”
It had been surprisingly easy, almost not like a lie at all. Perhaps because his words had been infused with the memory of last night’s unexpected and frankly mind-boggling kiss. As angry as he had been last night, it was an unexpected comfort to have that one happy memory to hold on to in the face of one of his toughest days, not that he planned on ever mentioning it again. Well, not unless he needed some serious bargaining room with Cuddy. His dad had apparently been hovering in the doorway, and joined them as the doctors returned for another series of checks, going through the appropriate motions. Watching for the signs of consciousness fading, House remembered what he went there to say.
“I love you, mom.”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Cuddy had managed a whole day without locking herself in the bathroom and crying. A perfect fool she might be, but she had always been a professional one. She had interviewed for the Head of Pediatrics vacancy, met with the trustees about the new memorial fountain and authorized enough expenditure to fund a small Third World country. She discovered that the biggest downside to excelling in her job was the ability to let her mind wander, and House had certainly been doing a lot of virtual wandering in hers since she heard her door slam the previous evening.
The only way to deal with her current predicament was to ignore it. With House stuck in Connecticut, she was free to do whatever she damn well pleased. Which meant offering Zach a warm reply and getting her life back on track. He would cook dinner at his place tonight, and she would be the sort of adorable girlfriend that he was looking for. By the time she had to face House again, she would be completely secure in her relationship and her life, able to help him without crossing any lines. Clearly the sensible course of action was to pretend last night hadn’t happened, which removed any sort of clear thinking that they were paying her the big bucks for?
His apartment made the sort of striking first impression that caused people to whistle through their teeth. Being a practicing attorney had apparently been lucrative, and he wasn’t selling off the silver to make ends meet in his academic career either. Zach had neat and classic tastes, and his bookshelves contained at least a hundred titles Cuddy was instantly intrigued by. She sipped wine from an elegant glass, nervously smoothing the fabric of the floaty purple dress she had picked out for the evening.
His kitchen was vast, all chrome and dark wood with more bits and pieces than even a professional chef would need. She perched on the stool he had offered and watched him prepare their meal, lost in the whirl of ingredients that he threw around with consummate ease. For the overworked head of a hospital who lived on store-bought salads and ready meals, it was quite literally a mouth-watering proposition. As he chopped and seared various brightly colored vegetables, Zach regaled Cuddy with stories of his new freshmen students, their half-baked arguments and willingness to challenge him before they knew even a fraction of the law they needed.
Cuddy recognized a number of the faculty names he dropped from her own constant rotation fundraisers and board meetings. As she watched his animated face, she realized that for once she had stumbled across a man who not only inhabited her world but who belonged there. Had she really found the kind of man that she had been complaining didn’t exist?
They sat together for a delicious meal, the candelight seemed a little much at first, but she soon adjusted to the romance of the idea. Cuddy was effusive in her praise for the food, and before long they were retiring to a more comfortable setting.
As he joined her on the sofa, she pushed away the sudden flashback. Her nerves returned as she fiddled with the hem of her dress, and when Zach first kissed her, she found herself unable to relax. The mood was spoiled further by the unexpected shriek of her cell phone, and she excused herself to answer it, apologizing that the Dean was always on call.
In her haste to apologize before taking the call, she neglected to check the caller ID. The quiet that greeted her made her wish she could bite back her abrupt hello. Was it possible that she recognized his breathing, or was it simply deduction taking over?
“House?”
“Yeah. She’s uh…she’s gone.”
“Shit, I’m so, so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
“Nah, we can take care of it. Just thought I should let you know.”
“Well, you know where I am, okay?”
“Yeah.”
He hung up without a goodbye, and she figured that was probably a word he’d had enough of for one day. As she stood in the light and airy hallway, returning to the living room and Zach suddenly seemed like entirely the wrong idea. Cuddy knew what she felt like doing, but wasn’t sure she should. The downside of being the boss was knowing when a firm decision was called for; she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and decided to follow her feelings, let someone else worry about the practicalities for a change.
Chapter 6
Author: Lola Lauriestein
Rating: R for language and some of the banter is getting a little more sexual!
Pairing: Cuddy/OMC, House/Cuddy, House, Cuddy, Wilson friendship.
Spoilers: Everything up to Wilson's Heart, takes place not long after.
Disclaimer: not-not-mine, House et al belong to David Shore, Fox etc. The song "No Children" is by The Mountain Goats, they are awesome and you should check them out.
Summary: Cuddy has a new boyfriend, House has a problem and Wilson is grieving. As matters go from bad to worse, will they be able to help each other as they once did? Friendships under strain and tough decisions ahoy.
With thanks to my awesome beta,
lucyvanflick! Thank you to everyone for your thoughtful and considered criticism so far, it's giving me so much confidence when something I really worked at goes over in the right way. Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
“I hope the junkyard a few blocks from here someday burns down
And I hope the rising black smoke carries me far away
And I never come back to this town.”
Cuddy tried his home number and cell phone for the tenth time in quick succession but irritating recorded messages were the only responses she got.
The email from Zach glared at her accusingly from her inbox, seemingly fluorescent among the dozens of circulars and whining missives from heads of departments. One head of department was conspicuous by his absence. Even House wouldn’t push his late arrival until lunchtime. The need to rectify the embarrassment of last night had pushed Cuddy into full-on panic mode, and her next course of action was a midday ride to his apartment to checks on him. Either he was using their moment of madness to completely undermine her authority or, worse still, she had genuinely hurt him further at the worst possible time. Cuddy was beginning to understand why Stacy had looked so nervous in those last few months. The smoking habit was starting to look like an attractive distraction.
The unfamiliar area code on her cell display confused her momentarily, but she answered it with a hope bordering on desperation. Her knees almost gave out with relief at the sound of his voice.
“Cuddy?”
“House, thank God, where the hell are you? I’ve been trying to reach you all morning!”
His silence was calculated. She could imagine him choosing between the various levels of cutting for his reply.
“Another booty call, huh? Well, you’re shit out of luck, oh Dean of mine, because your latest victim is currently in the wilds of Connecticut.”
Filing away the explanation for the 860 area code, Cuddy pressed him for a reason.
“My dad called last night, seems things have gone from worrying to hopeless pretty fast. The exploratory surgery, well there’s been some complications. Her lungs are failing. He told me to come say goodbye. So, if you hear about any warrants out for the guy doing 110 up I-95, keep the cops off my tail okay?”
“God, I’m sorry, House. I seem to keep saying that, don’t I? Take whatever time you need, Foreman can keep your team in line. Maybe you can still have some time together, make the most of it.”
“Oh Cuddy, what would I do without you reminding me how to be human? Tin Man signing out.” With an abrupt click, he was gone.
Cuddy allowed herself a wobbly moment of relief and sadness, a shaky breath sufficient to steady her nerves. Her Blackberry had the agenda for the fundraising meeting on its screen, a meeting she was now at least ten minutes late for. Scurrying from her office, she kept the document open on its bright little display, unwilling to return to her inbox and the damn email she knew was awaiting her there.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
House surveyed the landscape common to most of his recent memories of his parents. Since his dad’s retirement, they had settled across the water from his last base, trading Groton for New London, the other side of the Thames. He wished he could conjure up a comforting childhood memory from this place, but those years had been spent in Japan, Egypt and on the original River Thames. He’d looked in on his mother repeatedly through the night, shrugging off the exhaustion of a three-hour drive, watching her fitfully sleep as her breathing labored under an oxygen mask. She’d been transferred back to her private room to ”rest” as she put it. He’d have given back every solved puzzle and arcane medical fact in his brain to be unaware that she meant being made comfortable in order to die, and tried to avoid listing the progressive development of what would surely be her final hours.
He ate a tasteless breakfast of cold toast in the hospital’s cafeteria, staring out at the Swordfish class submarine in the bay. American flags fluttered in the morning breeze, over the base and in every garden as far as the eye could see. House wondered if he should be feeling patriotic at the sight. Instead, he was only aware of something approaching resentment for the job and the lifestyle that had left him so rootless. Mostly he worried that his mother had been unhappy, stuck with the obligations of a Marine’s wife and a mother. Ironic enough that his parents finally had a permanent home but scarcely enough years to appreciate it.
At the heavy steps behind him, he turned to see his father’s increasingly shrunken form. Where once there had been height and the bulk of muscle there was simply an old man, albeit one with perfect posture and a fierce expression. Unconsciously, he straightened despite the pain in his leg and resisted the urge to salute. They regarded each other warily, permanent combatants in a necessary armistice of consideration for the sick woman along the corridor.
“She’s awake, asking for you.”
Never a pair to waste words, House took his instructions with a nod and made fairly brisk progress along the hall. Hesitating at the door, his father’s brusque cough propelled him forward into the sterile room. The disinfectant and musty smells of a hospital were better known to him than those of his own apartment, and yet he found his stomach churning, much like the nausea of his first days as an intern.
Easing himself carefully into the uncomfortable plastic chair by his mother’s bed, he reached for her hand with unaccustomed tenderness. The same hand that had smoothed his unruly curls, checked his forehead for fevers and occasionally dished out a well-deserved slap felt cool and clammy in his own. He caught her eye, noting the glassy quality provided by the post-operative fever that was causing her such trouble. House did his best to conjure a confident smile as she reached weakly for the oxygen mask with her free hand.
“Greg, I’m so glad you’re here. You didn’t threaten any of the doctors, did you? Remember these ones know how to fight.”
Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the warmth and humor that had been the touchstone of his life was still present in the gravest of times. How he wished that he could have one of his wacky life-saving ideas, but nothing could be coaxed from his exhausted gray matter.
“I know I don’t have much time. I want you to promise me that you’ll make peace with your father. I’ve never asked you to put up with it before, but you only have each other now. I just wish I wasn’t leaving you alone, Greg. I wanted so badly to see you happy again after Stacy,” she said wistfully.
House succeeded in not wincing at the mention of his most recent heartbreak, but it was a close-run fight. Hearing the sadness in his mother’s voice, he decided to take one last risk on her behalf, and for the first time in forty years he lied to her.
“I’ve met someone, Mom. It’s still early, but I’m happy again. She’s totally hot, too.”
His mother smiled from behind the mist on her plastic mask, and indicated with lifted eyebrows that he wasn’t getting away with so little detail.
“It’s been a secret, because of work. I don’t suppose you remember Dr. Cuddy? Lisa? Ok, the smirk I see now tells me that there’s nothing wrong with your memory. Well, anyway, things have been happening and I feel really good about it. So don’t you worry about me.”
It had been surprisingly easy, almost not like a lie at all. Perhaps because his words had been infused with the memory of last night’s unexpected and frankly mind-boggling kiss. As angry as he had been last night, it was an unexpected comfort to have that one happy memory to hold on to in the face of one of his toughest days, not that he planned on ever mentioning it again. Well, not unless he needed some serious bargaining room with Cuddy. His dad had apparently been hovering in the doorway, and joined them as the doctors returned for another series of checks, going through the appropriate motions. Watching for the signs of consciousness fading, House remembered what he went there to say.
“I love you, mom.”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Cuddy had managed a whole day without locking herself in the bathroom and crying. A perfect fool she might be, but she had always been a professional one. She had interviewed for the Head of Pediatrics vacancy, met with the trustees about the new memorial fountain and authorized enough expenditure to fund a small Third World country. She discovered that the biggest downside to excelling in her job was the ability to let her mind wander, and House had certainly been doing a lot of virtual wandering in hers since she heard her door slam the previous evening.
The only way to deal with her current predicament was to ignore it. With House stuck in Connecticut, she was free to do whatever she damn well pleased. Which meant offering Zach a warm reply and getting her life back on track. He would cook dinner at his place tonight, and she would be the sort of adorable girlfriend that he was looking for. By the time she had to face House again, she would be completely secure in her relationship and her life, able to help him without crossing any lines. Clearly the sensible course of action was to pretend last night hadn’t happened, which removed any sort of clear thinking that they were paying her the big bucks for?
His apartment made the sort of striking first impression that caused people to whistle through their teeth. Being a practicing attorney had apparently been lucrative, and he wasn’t selling off the silver to make ends meet in his academic career either. Zach had neat and classic tastes, and his bookshelves contained at least a hundred titles Cuddy was instantly intrigued by. She sipped wine from an elegant glass, nervously smoothing the fabric of the floaty purple dress she had picked out for the evening.
His kitchen was vast, all chrome and dark wood with more bits and pieces than even a professional chef would need. She perched on the stool he had offered and watched him prepare their meal, lost in the whirl of ingredients that he threw around with consummate ease. For the overworked head of a hospital who lived on store-bought salads and ready meals, it was quite literally a mouth-watering proposition. As he chopped and seared various brightly colored vegetables, Zach regaled Cuddy with stories of his new freshmen students, their half-baked arguments and willingness to challenge him before they knew even a fraction of the law they needed.
Cuddy recognized a number of the faculty names he dropped from her own constant rotation fundraisers and board meetings. As she watched his animated face, she realized that for once she had stumbled across a man who not only inhabited her world but who belonged there. Had she really found the kind of man that she had been complaining didn’t exist?
They sat together for a delicious meal, the candelight seemed a little much at first, but she soon adjusted to the romance of the idea. Cuddy was effusive in her praise for the food, and before long they were retiring to a more comfortable setting.
As he joined her on the sofa, she pushed away the sudden flashback. Her nerves returned as she fiddled with the hem of her dress, and when Zach first kissed her, she found herself unable to relax. The mood was spoiled further by the unexpected shriek of her cell phone, and she excused herself to answer it, apologizing that the Dean was always on call.
In her haste to apologize before taking the call, she neglected to check the caller ID. The quiet that greeted her made her wish she could bite back her abrupt hello. Was it possible that she recognized his breathing, or was it simply deduction taking over?
“House?”
“Yeah. She’s uh…she’s gone.”
“Shit, I’m so, so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
“Nah, we can take care of it. Just thought I should let you know.”
“Well, you know where I am, okay?”
“Yeah.”
He hung up without a goodbye, and she figured that was probably a word he’d had enough of for one day. As she stood in the light and airy hallway, returning to the living room and Zach suddenly seemed like entirely the wrong idea. Cuddy knew what she felt like doing, but wasn’t sure she should. The downside of being the boss was knowing when a firm decision was called for; she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and decided to follow her feelings, let someone else worry about the practicalities for a change.
Chapter 6
