Feb. 26th, 2009

[identity profile] hbic-cuddy.livejournal.com

Cuddy moved out of the last yoga pose and let herself collapse on the floor. She sat with her legs spread in front of her and her hands braced behind her and let the sweat cool on her body. She'd pushed herself hard that morning. She'd been getting lazy lately but being pregnant was no excuse for letting herself get out of shape. The fact that staying busy was the only thing keeping her sane had nothing to do with it.

Right. Nothing to do with it at all. Since leaving House's car Friday night she'd barely stopped moving. She'd cleaned every inch of the house--some parts twice. She'd done every lick of laundry. She'd done her grocery shopping and her bill paying and her errand running and she didn't let herself stop for a moment because that was the only thing that stopped  her from thinking about House. Actually, that wasn't true. She thought about him constantly. Keeping busy stopped her from picking up the phone and dialing his number. Okay, so that wasn't true either because she'd picked up the phone and dialed a dozen times...only to disconnect before it could ring through.

She had to fight the urge to go to him because that's exactly what she wanted to do. She'd told him to call her when he was ready. Going to him sort of undercut the whole idea of letting him decide what he wanted. Besides, go to him and then what? That's where it got troublesome because she didn't know what came next. Go to him and argue seemed the most likely scenario and that wasn't helpful. Go to him and pretend everything was fine? That also was not helpful because ignoring the problem only meant it would come back to bite them again. And again. And again, until there was nothing left of them but a chalk outline. She needed to find some way to communicate with him. She'd considered sign language but she was pretty sure the only hand gestures he knew were obscene. She'd been so desperate to find an answer she'd actually surfed the 'net looking for suggestions. Trouble was, most advice seemed geared toward men who were not as House-ish as House.

She jerked forward suddenly as Junior decided to practice a little kickboxing with with her ribs. "Sorry," she murmured, rubbing one hand over her stomach. "I've given you a rough weekend, haven't I? It's just.... Your father.... He's a good man. He doesn't act like it but he is. But sometimes he drives me fu....freaking nuts." She gave her belly another rub and looked down at it. "Don't suppose you have any ideas about how to talk to him?" Another sharp kick made her grimace. "No, didn't think you would." 

She forced herself to her feet and headed in to take a shower. She needed to find something to do with the rest of her day. There was absolutely nothing left to do at home. Even the baby's room was as ready as she could make it at the moment. The furniture was due to arrive any day, and she had an interior decorator coming in the following weekend while House and Wilson were off jamming with monster trucks, but until then everything was clean and sorted and waiting.

As she dressed in casual slacks and a light sweater, she decided to go to the hospital. There was always work piled up on her desk, waiting to be done. And hell, it was a hospital--surely there'd be some crisis or another that could use her attention. Something that would keep her mind off her complete inability to do something as seemingly simple as talk to the man she loved. And being Sunday, she wouldn't have to deal with a lot of people if she didn't want to. It was certainly unlikely she'd have to deal with House, not at work, not on a Sunday. Which both reassured and disappointed her.

"Come on, baby," she said, grabbing her coat and keys as she headed toward the front door. "Be a good little fetus and let mommy work and we can have ice cream for dessert tonight."

October 2010

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