Cuddy gave a faint shake of her head when he said he'd trade the hospital for a day of fighting. She understood what he meant. She knew he didn't mean he actually wanted to fight. He simply found being a patient in psychiatric facility so daunting, so frightening, he'd rather do almost anything else. She sympathized; she couldn't imagine what he was going through but she knew it wasn't easy. But she also knew he wasn't going to get better by continuing as he'd been doing. Something had to give and, unfortunately, it had given in a big way.
She started to tell him that his idea of being okay was part of his problem. He thought he always had to be tough, in control, always on guard and that had only added to his stress. He so rarely let himself be open or vulnerable that all his fears and insecurities had only gotten compressed in his mind until he was wound tight as a clock spring. It wasn't really all that surprising that he fell apart, he really fell apart.
The nurse walked by just then, though, so she remained silent out of deference for House's desire for some privacy. Before she could pick up her train of thought again, though, House was talking.
"Hey." She reached up and gently cupped his face between her hands. "You didn't get to this point in a day, or a week, or even a year. You know it's going to take time to get back to normal--whatever that is for you. You won't be alone, though. I'll be here however long it takes."
She leaned in and gave him a slow, gentle kiss. She let her hands slide down to rest against his chest as the kiss ended and looked up at him.
"You know what worries me? I'm afraid that even though you're here now, you're still going to resist letting anyone help you." She had more worries than that. Lots more. But her deepest wish was for him to get better, to allow himself to be happy and she was afraid he'd sabotage himself just as he'd done in other situations.
"I think you think that asking for help is a sign of weakness. I think you feel like you've failed somehow because you can't do it all on your own." She gazed at him with an almost pleading expression in her eyes. "It's not true. I think what you did by coming here took a hell of a lot of courage. You've got nothing to be ashamed of."
no subject
She started to tell him that his idea of being okay was part of his problem. He thought he always had to be tough, in control, always on guard and that had only added to his stress. He so rarely let himself be open or vulnerable that all his fears and insecurities had only gotten compressed in his mind until he was wound tight as a clock spring. It wasn't really all that surprising that he fell apart, he really fell apart.
The nurse walked by just then, though, so she remained silent out of deference for House's desire for some privacy. Before she could pick up her train of thought again, though, House was talking.
"Hey." She reached up and gently cupped his face between her hands. "You didn't get to this point in a day, or a week, or even a year. You know it's going to take time to get back to normal--whatever that is for you. You won't be alone, though. I'll be here however long it takes."
She leaned in and gave him a slow, gentle kiss. She let her hands slide down to rest against his chest as the kiss ended and looked up at him.
"You know what worries me? I'm afraid that even though you're here now, you're still going to resist letting anyone help you." She had more worries than that. Lots more. But her deepest wish was for him to get better, to allow himself to be happy and she was afraid he'd sabotage himself just as he'd done in other situations.
"I think you think that asking for help is a sign of weakness. I think you feel like you've failed somehow because you can't do it all on your own." She gazed at him with an almost pleading expression in her eyes. "It's not true. I think what you did by coming here took a hell of a lot of courage. You've got nothing to be ashamed of."