cuddys_house | Saturday, 21 April

Saturday, 21 April

Cuddy turned off the light in the kitchen and headed for the front door. She grabbed her purse and a light jacket, then stopped, looking around and feeling as if she'd forgotten something.

The past week had been very long and very hard and very lonely. The only reason she'd been able to cope with it was because she knew House was where he needed to be to get the help he needed to have. Whenever she got down thinking about him confined to a psychiatric hospital and worried about what their future really held, she reminded herself that this was for the best. It didn't make her feel any less lonely but at least the loneliness had a purpose and she could live with that.

She gave herself a shake to clear the cobwebs collecting in her mind and strode to the door. She pulled the door open, and nearly got a fist in the face.

"Oh, God." Wilson jerked back, pulling his hand away just before he hit her instead of the door. "I.... Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Cuddy said, puzzled but amused. "You missed. The question is--why were you about to knock on my door?"

"I think you should let me drive." Wilson put his hand up before she argue with him, again, that she was perfectly capable of driving herself to Mayfield. "I know what you said but what if something happened? What if you go into labor?"

"For heaven's sake, Wilson," Cuddy said, stepping out onto the porch and locking her front door behind her. She turned to face him. "I'm not hiking off into the wilderness. And I have my cell phone," she added, waving phone at him before tucking it away in her purse.

"I know. And I don't care," he said with vaguely apologetic shrug. "You alone and being this pregnant makes me nervous. Please--let me drive."

She stared at him for a moment. She hadn't been looking forward to making the drive alone with nothing to distract her from her thoughts. In some ways, she wasn't looking forward to seeing House because she was worried about what she might see. If he was having a bad time of it, she would have a hard time staying optimistic. And then she'd have the long drive home again, alone.

"Okay, you win," she said finally. "But you have to let me buy you lunch."

Wilson gave a relieved nod of his head. Then he gave her a quirky little grin. "Well, this will be different. Normally on a road trip, I have to pay for all the food."

*

Cuddy was actually glad she'd let Wilson drive. He was, as always, enjoyable company. More than that, though, he knew the situation. She didn't have to pretend with him. He understood some of what she was feeling--he was probably the only other person who could--so she didn't have to explain herself. They took turns reassuring each other that everything was going to be just fine. Even if neither of them was completely convinced, it was still nice to hear it.

She found herself getting almost unbearably nervous as they went through the visiting procedure in the reception area. After signing in, her bag was searched and they had to turn over anything that could potentially be used to cause injury. It was a horrible feeling to have to look at ordinary, everyday things like nail clippers and calculate how much damage it could do. And she was only visiting. House must feel like he was in prison.

"It's okay," Wilson said quietly, placing his hand on her back as an orderly led them to House's room. She answered him with a terse nod, then stopped in her tracks when the orderly went to knock on one of the doors.

"Do you...?" Wilson stepped back and nodded down the hall. "I'll just wait over here. Yell when--if--House is ready to see me."

"Thank you." Cuddy walked to the door just as the orderly called through the door to announce House had a visitor. He opened the door for Cuddy then, and headed back down the hall. Cuddy took a deep breath and stepped through the door. That first moment of seeing House churned up a whole bunch of emotions but she pushed them down and smiled at him. "Hi. Okay if I come in?"

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Cuddy left her hand over House's. Not only did she enjoy the simple touch but she could also gauge his level of tension to some extent. She felt him relax a little when he was chiding Wilson about his dating habits, but then he tensed again when he mentioned Cameron and Chase.

"So I heard," Wilson said when House told him about Cameron and Chase's exploits. "Unfortunately I didn't hear about it until after Cuddy had already called them in and smacked them around a little. Otherwise I would've taken pictures for you."

"What are you? A couple of voyeurs?" Cuddy asked, exasperated. She honestly thought at times House provoked his fellows simply for the pleasure of watching them get in trouble. Even if he didn't actively provoked them, his own attitude toward rules encouraged their own independent spirits. She could understand that kind of independence could help them be the kind of creative doctor House was, but she still wasn't going to let them screw in her hospital.

"Voyeurism isn't my kink," Wilson said, mildly. He jerked his thumb in House's direction. "But I think he likes watching you get all...domineering."

"And I didn't smack anyone," she said, giving both men a reproving look. She refused to acknowledge the domination reference. "I merely explained I wouldn't tolerate that kind of behavior and if it happened again, I'd fire their asses." She gave a little shrug and admitted. "For a moment there, I thought Chase might wet himself. Cameron was more interested in finding out who snitched on her."

Edited 2009-07-26 04:09 (UTC)

"Cuddy's not called a DOM for nothing," House agreed with Wilson.

That was about the extent of his contribution to the conversation at that point, however. His mind had slunk back to the events from the week previous that led to him being in here. Due to the anticholinergic activity of his medication, he was easily agitated and his concentrated easily distracted, and he started to toy restlessly with the handle of his cup while jiggling his good leg in an anxious manner.

"Oh, come off it," he replied to Cuddy a little absently. "She's not interested in who. Cameron knows who snitched on her. She's interested in reactions." He suddenly almost jumped out of his skin at the sound of a crash coming from behind him. He snapped his head in the direction of the noise and saw Justine, the patient Wilson had been talking to in the hallway, standing at the sink where she'd accidentally dropped a dish while washing it.

"House?" Wilson asked. He exchanged a confused frown with Cuddy, then turned back to House. "Is everything okay?"

House glared at Justine, who muttered an apology to everyone in the room, before he turned back to Wilson and Cuddy. He gave his forehead a fretful run with his fingers, then shook his head to dismiss Wilson's concern. He startled easily at sudden noises, yet another side effect of the antidepressants. It was a side effect that would ease with time as his body adjusted. It had only been a week so far, however; as with any strong medication, particularly antidepressants, he had to start on the lowest dosage and slowly increase over time, which meant the side effects were going to persist until he was stabilised on the correct dose.

"No, she's interested in passing moral judgments," Cuddy said. Once she'd berated the two doctors for their behavior, Cameron had sneered at her and pointed out she was being a hypocrite given her relationship with House. Cuddy had damn near lost her temper at that. She had worried from time to time that a situation would arise which could possible cause a conflict of interest between her personal life and her professional responsibilities. Cameron's accusation had hit a sore spot. Fortunately, there was no conflict this time. As she'd pointed out to Cameron--in a tightly controlled but very angry voice--she wasn't telling Cameron and Chase they couldn't have a relationship. She was telling them they couldn't screw in her hospital which was something Cuddy had never done so Cameron could just get off her moral high horse and get back to work, thanks very much.

Cuddy didn't get a chance to explain all that since Wilson's would-be girlfriend dropped a dish and House nearly jumped out of his skin. She put her hand on his shoulder to calm him, giving Wilson a small shrug when he looked at her. She'd seen House react to loud noises before as part of his PTSD. This wasn't the same, though. This was more like a generalized irritability where anything or everything could provoke an over-reaction.

"Why don't we go outside?" Cuddy suggested, gently rubbing House's shoulder. "Maybe a walk would make you feel a little better."

"That's a good idea," Wilson agreed quickly. He got up from his seat. "In fact, I'll go find whoever's in charge and tell them where we'll be. I'll meet you at the entrance."

Cuddy watched Wilson set his cup in the sink, noting he didn't miss the opportunity to say something to the girl. She turned back to House when Wilson left the room.

"You going to be okay?" She hesitated, then added, "If my presence, or Wilson's, is bothering you, it's okay to ask us to leave."

"I'm fine," House quickly snapped as Cuddy rubbed his shoulder and said about a walk possibly making him feel better. He felt stupid and helpless enough about his behaviour without Cuddy making any kind of fuss over him or drawing any attention to it. He didn't, however, refuse when Wilson added that he'd meet them at the entrance.

House, too, looked over his shoulder at Wilson and saw him make some comment to Justine, though for once he didn't make a comment. Instead, he turned back to Cuddy and shook his head. Wilson and Cuddy's presence was bothering him but not in the way Cuddy insinuated. It bothered him because of the situation. Hell, the whole situation bothered him.

"I'm fine," he said again after a pause, still dismissive but a little calmer this time. He grabbed his coffee and took another large gulp, then reached up and brushed Cuddy's hand from his shoulder. He gulped more coffee and rested his elbows against the table with his shoulders hunched while he peered down at what remained in his cup.

"I hate this," he murmured, and he wasn't talking about the coffee. "I wish that..."

He paused again, then was about to say more when he heard Wilson approach from behind. "We can head outside for about half an hour," he said. Wilson hesitated, realising maybe he'd just interrupted something, maybe a talk Cuddy and House had been having in his absence. "Uh. When you're ready to head out, that is," Wilson added.

House stared down at his cup for another moment, then nodded and pushed the cup away. "Now's fine," he said flatly, scooting the chair back.

"Okay, you're fine," Cuddy said although she didn't believe it for a moment. He'd made enough complaints about how he felt, about the place and the other patients, for her to know that he wasn't at all fine with the situation. She also knew arguing with him about it would be counter-productive. She was tired of arguing with him. Let his therapist battle through his defenses for a while.

She frowned when he pushed her away but she folded her hands in her lap without commenting. She hesitated to even attempt to reassure him when he started talking again. She was afraid he'd just argue with her about that as well. He was irritable, he was clearly unhappy, but there was nothing she could do about it. She'd known he wouldn't be happy about getting help but he needed it. She was sure if he could just get through this initial stage, things would seem a lot better.

When House pushed away from the table, Wilson took hold of her chair to pull it back. He leaned in and whispered, "Sorry."

"It's okay. He was just...venting."

"He's miserable," Wilson said, looking over at House as he approached the door.

"You think I don't know that?" Cuddy said, grabbing her purse from the table as Wilson pushed her chair in. "What am I supposed to do about it? He needs this."

"I know, I know," Wilson murmured. "I'm just saying...."

"Well, don't," Cuddy whispered harshly. "It's not helping." She glanced guiltily at House, hoping he hadn't noticed the exchange between her and Wilson. Normally she wouldn't have a hope but with his mind fogged by drugs, it was at least possible he was oblivious to their whispered conversation. She didn't want him feeling even more self-conscious about his situation.

She tugged on Wilson's sleeve to get him to follow her as she hurried after House.

House headed for the door and it was only when he came to a stop by the doorway that he realised Wilson and Cuddy were talking. He looked at them over his shoulder. He hadn't heard anything they'd said, but the fact that they hadn't been walking right behind him was all he needed to know. He couldn't find the energy to be angry or anything else besides resigned. Of course he was paranoid at whatever it was they were talking about but even paranoia wasn't enough to shake off the numb feeling. Mostly he was just humiliated at the whole situation.

"There's no need to pretend you're not talking about me," he said without much expression once Wilson and Cuddy had caught up. He stepped out into the hall and limped with a heaviness to his step towards the direction of the exit that led out to the hospital grounds. When he reached the door, he shoved it open and squinted at the sunshine. The fresh air was almost like a shock to the system - crisp and a little chilly.

A handful of people were out on the grounds, most of the patients, a couple of them nursing staff keeping watch. He didn't wait up for Wilson and Cuddy at first, choosing to walk ahead on his own for a short while. He hadn't really been outside since he'd arrived at the hospital, because of therapy groups and needing to take naps as a result of adjusting to his meds. Not to mention that outside time was monitored and kept within a specific and strict schedule that the hospital kept.

Wilson didn't make an effort to catch up with House at first. He bunched his hands into his pockets while walking alongside Cuddy and just watched his friend walk on ahead. He knew this was best for House, being here. But he was also worried. He wasn't used to seeing House so... deflated. House hadn't even really been trying to pretend everything was okay, which indicated to Wilson that this change House had faced was hitting him hard. He glanced at Cuddy a couple of times and at one point simply withdrew a hand from his pocket and lightly touched her lower back in a silent gesture of support. He had to wonder just how much she really was coping, only a few weeks away from the birth of her child and House locked away in this place. But typically, Cuddy wasn't giving away too many clues.

"You okay?" he murmured to her.

House, meanwhile, slowed in his step after having walked on his own for about five minutes and then stopped to look back at Wilson and Cuddy. He waited for them to catch up with him and when they did, he reached for Cuddy's hand.

"We weren't pretending anything," Cuddy pointed out as she tried to catch up to him. She hadn't wanted him to notice but she also didn't want to lie to him. No more than she felt she had to for his own good, that was. It was a fine line to walk--being honest with him in order to encourage him to be honest with himself versus not being so honest as to make him paranoid and self-conscious.

When it became obvious House wanted to walk on by himself, she stopped trying to waddle along at his pace. She let herself slow down, looking after his slumped shoulders. She glanced to Wilson at her side when he asked how she was doing.

"It's not me you should be worried about," she said in a resigned tone.

"You're the only I might be able to help, though," Wilson said.

Cuddy ignored his implied offer. There really wasn't much Wilson could do other than to lend an ear when she worried. What she needed to be okay was for House to be okay. Unfortunately there wasn't anything either of them could do about that. House's recovery was up to him. All she could do was wait and offer moral support, which was as good as doing nothing.

"He's miserable. I know he's miserable, but he was miserable before he came here," she told Wilson, asking him to understand that her demand that House get help hadn't been based on a whim. She wasn't sure Wilson even knew she'd given House an ultimatum but it didn't matter because she knew. She knew and every time she looked at House she felt guilty.

"He's needed help for a long time," Wilson said in a consoling tone. "I know that. It's just odd to see him like this."

"It's horrible," Cuddy murmured to herself. She put a small smile on her face as they approached House, reaching to grasp his hand when he held it out. They continued along the path with she and Wilson on opposite sides of House, silent for the first few moments.

"The grounds are actually kind of nice," Cuddy said after a moment. What she really wanted to say was to ask House if he was warm enough and how his leg was doing. She figured he wouldn't put up with much fussing, though, so she settled for watching him for signs he was having a problem. "The building kind of looks like a set for a horror movie but the grounds aren't bad."

"There is a bit of gothic feel to it," Wilson agreed, glancing over his shoulder at the building. He turned back to look at House. "Haven't seen any ghosts wandering around the place, have you?"

With Cuddy's hand in his, House twined their fingers together and firmly squeezed her hand. Maybe coming outside had been a good idea because he felt less, well, claustrophobic. Seeing the same lime green walls, the same floors, the same faces, the same corridors, over and over and over again - being in the hospital reaffirmed the surreality of the situation, like he really was trapped in an unsettling recurring dream. Outside, though, he could almost pretend he wasn't a prisoner if he focused on the fresh air or the view that spread out away from the hospital building. He could almost imagine he was back where he was supposed to be, in Princeton, walking hand-in-hand with Cuddy somewhere everyday.

Wilson couldn't help noticing that House had reached for Cuddy's hand, either. He couldn't recall the last time he'd seen House express any kind of open affection for anybody, not since Stacy. Holding hands was hardly a huge gesture of affection, either, but it was huge in his eyes when it came to House. He was glad that House had finally found someone to have that kind of openness with, though it reminded him of his own loneliness.

House snorted when Cuddy said about the building being a set for a horror movie. And of course he hadn't seen any ghosts. But he replied to Wilson, "I've seen plenty of trolls. They wear white uniforms and call themselves psych nurses. Like that one over there."

He pointed with his and Cuddy's joint hands towards one of the nurses on the grounds wandering slowly along the path and keeping an eye on everybody. House then tugged on Cuddy's hand as they neared a bench by a tree and started towards that to take a seat. He released her hand and sat down, Cuddy and Wilson taking a seat either side of him.

He lay his cane on the ground and leaned forward with his elbows propped on his knees and his fingers laced together. He probably should've worn something a bit warmer for an outdoor excursion. Still, the chilliness that seeped through his clothes at least made him feel a little alive instead of lethargic and sedated.

"So, what have they got you on?" Wilson asked after a short pause of gazing around the hospital ground and quietly observing House.

"Drugs, and not the fun kind."

Wilson exchanged a quick look with Cuddy. He wasn't privy to all the details that led to House ending up in here, but he did know House's battle with Vicodin, even after months of not taking it, was part of the reason he was in the psych hospital.

"Amitriptyline," House continued with a weary rub to his face, oblivious to the look Wilson and Cuddy had shared. "Prazosin. Diazepam." He dropped his hand away and added dryly, "I have to report daily to my doctor about the state of my penis, thanks to priapism being a side effect of prazosin." He mimicked his psychiatrist, "'How's your erectile function today, Greg?'" Then in a mock cheerful voice, he 'replied', "'It's great, thanks for asking! This place really makes me think about getting it up.'"

Cuddy let out a quiet 'harumph' when House pointed out the troll on the grounds. He was hardly a fan of nurses under the best of circumstances. He probably hated being under their control rather than the other way around. Cuddy felt genuinely sorry for them. Being a psych nurse wasn't easy; being House's nurse had to be a major pain in the ass.

After taking a seat on the bench, Cuddy put her hand on House's back as he leaned forward. She leaned against the back of the bench, leaving as much room for Junior as possible, and rubbed her hand lightly over his back. Maintaining a physical connection wasn't necessarily for his benefit, although if it helped, all the better. She did it for herself. She missed him, and with him locked up here for an undetermined amount of time, she felt a deep need to get as much closeness as she could.

"Oh, come on," she teased lightly. "Someone asking after your penis is your idea of a good time." She gave him a little pat on the back. "Just as long as the doctor's not asking for a demonstration of your erectile function."

Wilson let out a snort of amusement but he didn't let the teasing deflect him. He didn't know everything behind House's decision to commit himself but he knew it had to be pretty serious for his friend to even consider the option. And since Wilson was the kind of person who needed to assure himself that someone he cared about was getting what he needed--in case Wilson needed to step in and save the day--he wanted to know how House's treatment was going.

"So they've got you pretty well loaded up on meds," he said. "How much talk therapy are you getting? I assume you've got group sessions every day...?"

House managed to crack a small, mild smile at Cuddy's remark. Truth be told, though, he found the daily questions about his erectile function one more thing to add to the humiliation of being in here. Of course, medically he understood why the psychiatrist asked him. Priapism was a serious and harmful condition that required emergency medical attention, and his blood pressure had always been a little higher than normal, which meant he had to be monitored extra closely. But that didn't take away the personal humiliation of it. It was one thing to be a doctor and another thing to be a patient, and House hated being a patient.

"Too much," he replied to Wilson's question about how much talk therapy he was getting. "Two daily group sessions, one daily one-on-one psych sessions, and a 'community meeting' before breakfast where we have to discuss our plans for the day and use 'feeling words'. Every single day."

Wilson nodded. The disparaging tone House used was impossible to miss, which didn't surprise Wilson in the slightest. House hardly even opened up to him, and he and House had been best friends for twenty years. He could only imagine how uncomfortable House was in therapy sessions and how difficult he made them for everybody else. Still, as Wilson understood it, House had been the one who'd wanted to be committed here. That said a huge amount about not just House's condition but about House's realisation for some kind of change.

"Not to mention those trolls always trying to talk to you when you want to be left alone," House continued. "Doesn't matter if you're trying to eat your meal in peace or trying to take a dump in peace. They're everywhere, get into everything, interrupt everything. They're like cockroaches.

"Good practice for fatherhood, I suppose. Kids are pretty much the same."

"Hey," Cuddy said, sitting up straight, her hand sliding from his back. "Kids aren't.... Being a parent is nothing like being a patient on a locked psych ward."

She snapped her mouth shut and looked away. She knew House hated being here and she knew he wasn't happy about fatherhood but she was offended he'd compare the two things. More than offended.... If he really felt fatherhood was as much a dismal prison as a psychiatric hospital then how was he ever going to accept it? Why would he even want to?

"I'm sure House didn't mean it literally," Wilson said, hastening to play peacemaker. He glanced at House but, deciding that was an unlikely source of help, he turned his gaze on Cuddy.

"Nevermind," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. House was unhappy--angry, even--and drugged. She knew she shouldn't take anything he said right then as fact. Being only weeks, or even days, away from giving birth made her a little sensitive to the subject, though. Which, of course, was part of the reason he was here. She couldn't be objective enough to help him. She wasn't objective enough to not take things he said personally.

"Why would they ask you what your plans for the day are when your day is scheduled for you?" she asked House, wanting to move past the issue of impending parenthood.

House had found Cuddy's hand on his back soothing, so looked at her a little surprised when she pulled her hand away. He frowned at her remark about the comparison of kids and being locked in a psych ward.

"I never said that," he replied. He'd meant that the way in which the psych nurses pester was the same as the way kids did - never leaving you alone, always wanting to know what you were doing, asking lots of questions. He thought he was making a joke but apparently not. And no, he didn't mean it literally, as Wilson pointed out.

House stared down at his hands as he twisted his fingers together. He didn't have the energy to get into a fight about it, though. "Because it's somehow supposed to make us feel like we're more in control of our day to day lives in a psych prison," he replied in a sarcastic tone to Cuddy. "Plus we're supposed to have 'plans' to use our free time effectively. Like painting. Or putting together a puzzle."

Wilson sighed. He didn't know whether to feel sorry for House and his very clear disdain of the whole psych hospital regime, or whether to point out that he'd been the one to voluntarily commit himself. Neither reaction was particularly useful, though. And if there was anything he could at least find reassuring, it was that House hadn't lost his spark so much that he wasn't vocal about his time in the hospital. He knew, too, that House probably needed to vent and he and Cuddy were the only people he'd seen since he arrived here. It therefore made sense he'd be venting at them.

"And I take it you don't do either of those things to pass the time," Wilson replied. "In fact, you're more likely to go around making diagnoses of organic causes for why all the other patients are in here, much to the chagrin of the medical staff."

"I'm not allowed to 'play doctor'," House said, looking at Wilson. "I get reprimanded with a condescending, 'your behaviour is not acceptable' and then get sent to time out whenever I misbehave or break the rules."

"So, in other words, you spend all your free time in time out," Wilson replied.

House looked back down at his hands. Well, Wilson was partly correct. He had spent time in time out, though not heaps of time. All the napping he'd done over the past week had kept him out of trouble for some of the part. Wanting to keep to himself had also gone in his favour, too. "Somebody has to be the McMurphy of the cuckoo's nest."

"Makes sense it would be you," Wilson agreed dryly.

House twiddled his thumbs together, then looked over at Cuddy. He wasn't sure if she was still upset with him about the comment he'd made about fatherhood and psych nurses. He returned his gaze to his hands again. He'd already brought this up with Cuddy but he decided to mention it again. "Well, maybe with all the time out, I'll be allowed out on a good behaviour bond to see my own little cockroach scuttle into the world."

"House," Wilson said warningly under his breath, loud enough for only House to hear.

House ignored him. "And by cockroach, I mean our baby," he said, looking at Cuddy. "Whose birth I wouldn't miss even if I was lobotomised by one of the trolls patrolling the hospital."

Cuddy let House and Wilson talk without interruption while she tried to shake off her irritation. Hell, it wasn't even the irritation. These days with her body being pushed to its limit by pregnancy, she got irritated at a lot of people and over any little thing. She tried not to let it get the best of her.

What had really set her off was that House's comment had reminded her of her worry that getting better would mean he'd decide to opt out of fatherhood. He hadn't wanted a baby and it was causing him stress--it would make sense for him to step back and decide fatherhood wasn't psychologically healthy for him. She didn't want that to happen. She didn't want to find out that being healthy and happy for him meant not being part of her life.

She tried to push those thoughts aside, though, because it really was too soon to know how House's recovery would progress. Her mother always told her not to borrow trouble and she decide to try to follow that advice this time.

She turned to House when he called their child a cockroach. She caught the warning expression on Wilson although she couldn't hear what he said. She gave House a warning look but she reached to take his hand. "Better try to avoid the lobotomy. You wouldn't be much use in the delivery room if you're missing half your frontal lobe."

"You think he's going to be much use even with full use of his frontal lobe?" Wilson asked sarcastically.

Cuddy smiled. She had no idea how much help House would be while she was in labor. To some extent that was going to depend on how well he'd adjusted to his meds by the time D day rolled around. She wasn't going to worry about that yet. She just wanted him there.

"We'll make sure you can get a pass. Wilson and I will talk to your doctor, to the administrator, whoever we need to talk to. We'll make sure you get there," Cuddy reassured House.

Wilson nodded agreement. House becoming a father could quite possibly be the first sign of the apocolypse but it was also a very important moment. He was determined to do his part to make House was there to witness the birth of child.

"For the record," Wilson said. He nodded his head at Cuddy as if to warn House. "I take no responsibility for your safety after I get you to the delivery room. Especially if you insist on calling the kid a cockroach."

House threw Wilson a dirty 'some help you are' look when he said House probably wouldn't be much use with his frontal lobe intact. He liked to think he'd be perfectly capable in the labour room. Of course he would be - he was a doctor. He knew what to expect. Babies being born wasn't anything new or remarkable. Except this was his baby being born and that alone was enough to bring about enough anxiety to make him feel completely incapable.

Glad that Cuddy hadn't remained pissed off with him, he gave her hand a mild squeeze as she told him they'd work something out so he could be present for the birth. Maybe on the actual day, he'd want to run for cover. But he did mean it when he said he wanted to be there. He'd made the decision. Part of the reason he was even in the psych hospital was because he knew he had to work out some of his issues if he was to be any kind of effective father.

"Please," he snorted at Wilson. "I'm not that stupid. I have survival instincts just like every other animal and I know when to put those survival instincts into place."

"I... would have to disagree with you on that one," Wilson replied with a quirk to his brows. "I've lost count how many times I've had to save your ass on account of you not knowing when to put your survival instincts in place. The birth of your kid isn't going to be a place I'll be available to do any ass-saving, though."

House was fully aware of that, though that didn't necessarily reassure him in any way. If anything, it served to remind him that he was doing this whole father thing completely alone. Sure, Cuddy would be there but she was going to have her own bond with the baby and he didn't know where the hell he was going to stand with any of it, especially now. He glanced at Cuddy. He let her hand go and set his hand on her knee gave it a rub.

"Have you both even decided on a name yet?" Wilson asked. "Besides cockroach?"

Cuddy was unable to suppress a snort of disbelief when House claimed he had survival instincts. She had to agree with Wilson--House was far more likely to do something to endanger his survival than to protect it. Honestly, she sometimes thought he was completely lacking in survival instincts. He seemed to go out of his way to provoke negative reactions and it often came back to bite him in the ass.

That thought naturally reminded her of the shooting. They still didn't know who the gunman had been or why he'd done what he did but there was certainly the possibility he'd been seeking revenge for something House had done. There was no justification for shooting him no matter what House may or may not have done but it made her wish he'd watch his mouth a little more closely.

She laughed at Wilson's question, reaching down to cover House's hand on her leg. "Well, House is fond of Crack. I'm not sure if he wants that for a girl or a boy but needless to say, it's not going to happen." She looked at House more thoughtfully then. They had talked quite a bit about names but they hadn't reached a firm agreement.

"We've come up with a couple names we're both fairly happy with but I guess we haven't made a final decision."

"You're not going to wait until the last minute to decide, are you?" Wilson asked.

"It's possible," Cuddy said. "It's not easy for us to agree on anything."

"What's wrong with Crack? It's a unisex name, for a start." Where Cuddy's hand had laid over his, he stretched his thumb up and stroked it along Cuddy's. Baby names hadn't exactly been on his thoughts the past week but talking about it now definitely reminded him of one further thing he and Cuddy needed to work out. On top of all the other things they had hardly any time to work out. He sighed quietly and looked away, squinting at the sun's glare.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Wilson replied to Cuddy's remark about her and House hardly ever agreeing on anything. He stretched his legs out and crossed his ankles, stretching an arm across the back of the bench. "I'm not going to lie - that was one of the first things I wondered about you two when House told me you were both..."

Wilson waved his hand, feeling a small heated flush crawl up the back of his neck. Bringing up that reminded him of how he'd been caught out in pretending to Cuddy and House simultaneously that he'd not been in the know about their relationship. He'd ended up taking flowers around to Cuddy as an apology, wondering at the time whether Cuddy would forgive him. House had made it sound like forgiveness was right off the table, though luckily for Wilson, he knew how to placate women when feathers were more than a little ruffled.

House turned his head towards Wilson and gave him a look that said everything without saying anything, that he remembered well when he'd told Wilson about his relationship with Cuddy. In fact, he'd told Wilson the day after he'd found out Cuddy was pregnant. God, that seemed like a lifetime ago now.

Wilson tried to ignore the look House gave him. He looked out across the grounds. "What names have you decided on?" he asked, turning back to Cuddy.

"Cuddy just told you," House replied. "Crack. Though, we both kinda like Frat House, too."

Wilson wasn't the only one who'd wondered at their ability to agree or at least compromise. Cuddy had questioned it from the beginning. She hadn't realized how difficult it would be for them to reach a concensus on the important issues, though. She'd expected the usual amount of bickering back and forth. She should've known better. It was one thing to squabble over House's obligation to perform his clinic hours. It was quite another to argue over the big stuff. When it came to the important issues--the personal issues--she wasn't willing to let House bully his way to his goal like he did with his patients. She had a tendency to dig her heels in and fight.

"I suppose I should be happy he's taken Whore House off the table," she told Wilson dryly, giving him a little roll of her eyes behind House's back.

"Big of him," Wilson agreed with a smile.

"Other than Crack, Emma or Nathan are the front runners," Cuddy said more seriously. She glanced at House and shrugged as she admitted, "Those are my top choices, but House hasn't completely ruled them out."

"Those are nice names. Certainly more socially acceptable than Crack," Wilson said. He wasn't surprised Cuddy would come up with a couple of good, safe names. Cuddy had an unconventional streak--the fact she was dating House was proof enough of that--but for the most part she was more traditional than she might realize. House, on the other hand, well, Wilson was in some ways still getting used to the idea House was going to be a father but he was curious as to how unconventional his unconventional friend might be with his child.

"So what are your top choices?" he asked House.

"Just because I didn't mention it doesn't mean it's off the table," House butted in. He sat a little straighter to pull the tissue out of his pocket and blew his nose while Cuddy told Wilson her name choices. He then stifled a small yawn. It was only the middle of the afternoon but his meds made him fatigued. He sniffed and wiped his nose, then pushed the tissue back into his pocket.

"I told you my top choices," he replied to Wilson. "Crack and Frat. And Whore." He sniffed again and shrugged. "In the instance Cuddy downright refuses to agree with those names, though, I'll go with Nathan or Kate. Though, Cuddy doesn't like Kate."

"Kate?" Wilson echoed in an impassive tone, though he was inwardly a little bewildered. He hadn't actually known what House would suggest as a name - anything was possible with him, after all. But he hadn't expected House's name choices to be so... well, plain. And normal. And safe.

Then again, Wilson thought to himself, House wouldn't have struck him as the type to go for anything exotic or really that unusual when it came to names, either. Actually, come to think of it, Wilson just didn't know what to expect from House when it came to parenthood, period. He knew House better than anyone, but this was the one area that stumped Wilson. Anything was going to happen. House as a parent was completely unpredictable, right down to his name choices.

"Well, it seems you've both at least got the same tastes in boy's names," Wilson continued. "In fact, I'd say that considering how little you two probably do agree on anything, you've done pretty well with the name issue."

He crossed his arms over his chest. The issue of deciding things for this kid made Wilson wonder something else, given that Cuddy was Jewish and House not only wasn't but was hugely cynical of anything religious. "So, is this kid going to be raised a Jew, or...?"

"I don't dislike Kate," Cuddy told House as Wilson fell into a thoughtful silence. "I just don't care for it as a first name. I still think Emma Kate would be fine."

She could see it coming down to flipping a coin if this baby turned out to be a girl. Probably right there in the delivery room while her legs were still splayed out and the baby had barely taken its first breath--House would be flipping a coin to see who got to name it. And cheating, of course. He wouldn't let a little thing like the birth of his daughter stop him from trying to manipulate events in his favor.

She was pulled from the fairly innocuous question of the baby's name by by the far more dangerous question Wilson posed. She jerked up straighter on the bench, wanting to stop him but it was too late, of course. The words were already out there.

"That's been the subject of some heated discussion," she told Wilson with a look of rebuke.

"Oh, sorry. My bad." Wilson was only momentarily put off, though. He didn't want to cause a problem. Like Cuddy, he was hoping they could all have a reasonably pleasant visit and give House a brief respite from what was a difficult situation for him. However.... "It is something you're going to have to decide, and soon."

Cuddy was well aware of what they had to do and how long they had to do it. She wasn't particularly pleased at Wilson for bringing up a sore subject, though. In fairness, there weren't a lot of subjects that weren't sore with her and House but still--Wilson knew them both well enough to be able to make a pretty good guess at what topics would be most volatile.

"I want Junior to learn about Judiasm, be exposed to it," she said. "If he or she chooses not to practice it, or any other religion, I'm certainly not going to force it on him."

Wilson nodded. That made sense to him. He was aware Cuddy was not observant but he was also aware she still held onto some of the beliefs and practices associated with their religion. It was the same culture he'd grown up with as well. He could understand why she'd want to pass on some of it to her child. He was also aware House had nothing but disdain for religion and he doubted House would soften his view out of respect for Cuddy's feelings.

"And I guess you're opposed to that?" Wilson asked, watching curiously for House's reaction.

House wasn't the only one who stiffened at Wilson's question. He sat very still while Cuddy answered Wilson's question and tried to not listen to her response because he knew what it was going to be. More than that, he knew how unresolved this particular issue was and now was the last time he wanted to get into a discussion about it.

Wilson mentioning dredged up all kinds of unpleasant memories of the last time he and Cuddy had talked about this topic. The huge fight that had ensued, the hurtful words that had been exchanged, the way Cuddy had eventually left after having passed out in his bathroom and he'd followed her almost all the way home, and somehow ended up telling Cuddy they needed to have a break.

"What gave it away?" he replied to Wilson, dripping with sarcasm. He glanced at Wilson and gave him a look that clearly said, you moron. A moron for asking if House was opposed to religion, and an even bigger moron for bringing the subject up.

Wilson held his hands up in surrender. He was just trying to have a conversation. Admittedly, he was also interested in what House and Cuddy had to say about this baby, too. He'd never really had a chance to have a discussion with both of them at the same time about this. And also... he was a good mediator. He'd always been House's mediator, that was for sure. Wilson had little doubt there were plenty of issues House and Cuddy hadn't yet met eye to eye on when it came to this kid.

"It was a fair enough question," Wilson said in his defence to House. "Cuddy's Jewish. You, on the other hand, have an intense loathing for anything remotely religious and would make yourself less welcomed at the dinner table of a Kosher-keeping mishpacha than a rind of bacon."

House rubbed his hand over his eyes. "I'm not an idiot. And I didn't ask for your input."

"Something tells me you haven't even asked for Cuddy's input. And her input matters a whole lot more than mine does."

"I didn't ask for her input. She gave me her input."

"And I can imagine how well that went down," Wilson replied dryly.

"No one asked you," House snapped.

"Maybe not, but someone has to ask you. You're the father. You're going to have to reach some kind of compromise with Cuddy." Wilson gave her an apologetic look over House's back. He knew how hard it was to deal with House when he dug his heels in about something. Because when he dug those heels in, he dug them in deep and refused to budge.

House really wished Wilson would shut up. He knew he was going to have to reach some kind of compromise. He wasn't especially happy about it, either. He wanted his way and hated the thought that he was going to have to tolerate religious bullcrap seeping into his kid's life and into his orbit. "It's none of your business," he said to Wilson dismissively.

Wilson knew he ought to back off, especially while House was in a fragile state, but with so little time left before the baby was born, backing off was merely prolonging the inevitable. "You're right - it's not," he said. "But in case you can't tell, you have a woman who loves you deeply and who's willing to put up with a hell of a lot of your crap to be with you. The least you can do is show her you love her in return, and compromising over something that's important to her is one of the best ways you can show it. Not everything's about you, House."

House threw Wilson another look, a highly annoyed one at that. But then he glanced at Cuddy and his expression went from annoyance to guilt. He couldn't think of a comeback to Wilson's lecturing, not unless he wanted to really hurt Cuddy, which he didn't actually want to do. He looked down at his hands instead, in silence.

Edited 2009-07-28 17:16 (UTC)

Cuddy really wanted Wilson to drop the subject, but no, of course, he couldn't do that. He had to keep poking at House even though poking at House never did any good. If anything, it tended to make him dig his heels in ever deeper and the last thing she needed was for him to become even more stubborn about his refusal to consider allowing anything remotely religious around his kid.

Of course, it was her kid, too, but when House got his mind set on something, he didn't think about details like that. All she wanted to do was expose Junior to her culture. She wanted him to have a choice but he'd never be able to make a real choice if he didn't know what the options were. It would be like deciding you hated broccoli without ever having tasted it. In her mind, House wanted to deny Junior the chance to make an informed choice.

"Just stop, both of you," she said irritably. She appreciated Wilson trying to support her point of view but she didn't need any help picking a fight with House and that's where this was going to end up.

Wilson leaned forward and glanced around House at her, surprised she was putting a stop to his line of questioning. He knew she was probably sick of fighting with House but that was the point of Wilson doing the talking. That way if House got mad, he'd get mad at Wilson, not Cuddy. He could handle arguing with House, especially if it helped settle an issue that she surely would like to have settled.

"Don't you want to resolve this?" he asked her.

"I'd love to," Cuddy said. "But has it occurred to you that, with House, it isn't always possible to find a resolution?"

Wilson opened his mouth to argue, then slumped back against the bench because yeah, he was well aware of that fact. Many times he'd argued with House over some crazy plan of his only to throw up his hands and walk away because there simply was no reasoning with the man at times.

Cuddy looked at House and gave a resigned shrug. "I don't want to get into another endless argument." She glanced back toward the hospital building. "Especially not here. If we make a scene, the 'trolls' just might toss me and Wilson out. Worse, your doctor might decide we're a disruptive influence and ban us from visiting at all."

House bristled when Cuddy told Wilson that finding a resolution with him wasn't always possible. He already felt scolded and talked down at by Wilson, the lecturing bastard - he didn't need Cuddy talking about him like he was a naughty child, too, right in front of him.

When Cuddy conceded that she didn't want to get into another argument, House looked over at her. "He started it." He jerked his thumb in Wilson's direction. "You want to talk about not getting into another endless argument, tell him that. For once, it's not my fault."

"House..." Wilson piped up. He pinched the bridge of his nose, then held his hands up in another gesture of surrender. "Cuddy's right. Now's not the place to get into an argument, about anything. I wasn't trying to cause an argument. It was just conversation, something that people do sometimes when they need to work something out."

House sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand before reaching into his pocket for the tissue again. "And like I said. It's none of your business."

It was on the tip of Wilson's tongue to bite back that being House's only friend in the entire world, besides Cuddy, automatically meant everything was his business because who the hell else was House going to confide in and work out his problems with? But that was why he was in the psych hospital, he reminded himself. So House could work out his problems, hopefully problems like this one, too. He just mildly threw a hand up in defeat instead of saying anything at all.

Once he wiped his nose and stuffed the tissue back into his pocket, House reached down for his cane and started to push himself up from the bench. He was too tired and too fuzzy from the drugs to discuss any of this. He felt low and ashamed enough as it was to be in the psych hospital without Wilson and Cuddy making it worse by openly pointing out all the things he did and got wrong. "If you two want to bond over Kosher and simchat bats, by all means."

"House," Wilson protested, exasperated.

"Fine, and now I'm ending it," Cuddy said firmly when House accused Wilson of starting the discussion. Of course, neither of them could let it go at that. They had to get one more dig in at each other. She rubbed her forehead and sighed. They were as bad as a couple of kids on the playground, and about as useful.

"Hey, wait," Cuddy said, struggling to get to her feet when House got ready to pack up his toys and go home. She managed to grab his arm before he got too far, pulling on him until he looked at her. "You told us to treat you like normal. To not tiptoe around you, not treat you like you're different." She shook her head and gestured at Wilson, still sitting on the bench. "It's sucks but this is pretty normal for us."

"She's right, you know," Wilson said. He pushed up to his feet and waved his hands in surrender. He still felt strongly someone needed to bring these issues into the open and mediate for these two stubborn idiots but he truly didn't want to upset either of them. Especially Cuddy, because he had to drive home with her and she could hurt him if he really pissed her off.

Cuddy looked back up at House and held her hand out, wanting him to take it. "Come on. They're probably going to make you go back inside soon so let's try to enjoy the fresh air. Okay?"

House let Cuddy pull him to a stop and turn him, though not without a dramatic display of reluctance. And truth be told, she was right - he had said for neither of them to treat him any differently. But this was one of those topics he wanted to avoid altogether because it was only ever always going to wind up with them in an argument.

"Oh, so you started it and now you're placating?" House replied to Wilson, giving him a indignant, though weary, look.

Wilson just rolled his eyes. He wasn't going to say anything further on the matter, as much as he wanted to. "Again, Cuddy's right," he said, hoping to defuse House's agitation. "Just enjoy the fresh air. In fact... Why don't you two enjoy the fresh air on your own for a little while? I think it's more important you get to spend time with each other." He looked at Cuddy and motioned to the building. "I'll wait inside. Maybe the three of us can have another coffee when you get back."

He patted House's shoulder, then stepped away and headed in the direction of the building with his hands stuffed in his pockets. House watched him with a sigh, partially annoyed at Wilson for bailing, partially grateful because he did actually want to spend more time with Cuddy, seeing he had so precious little of it while in this place.

He turned back to Cuddy. "He says he's going to wait inside, but I know that's a code word for 'I wonder how that poor young blonde girl is going?'" He looked down at Cuddy's hand, then took it in his and twined their fingers together. He gave her hand a frustrated squeeze while looking down at her. But then he relented, deciding to attempt to let his annoyance go, and actually do as she said for once, to enjoy the fresh air - and being with Cuddy - while he could. After they left, he was going to have to face being cooped up in the hospital again for another week, alone.

He started to stroll with her along the grass down to the path. Before they reached it, though, he pulled Cuddy to a stop until she faced him. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her lips, wanting to diffuse the tension the conversation back there on the bench had caused. He felt like he didn't have a whole lot of hope to hold onto, being in this hospital. Cuddy was the one thing he could hold onto. The only hope he really had right now was their relationship and if he lost that...

He lifted a hand and touched her arm, then drew his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him into a one-armed embrace. So many things he wanted to tell her, about what was going through his head and through his heart. He didn't know how to even begin telling her, though, even if he wanted to.

"Yeah, well, Wilson wouldn't be Wilson if he weren't hitting on some poor, needy--but pretty--girl," Cuddy said. House was terrible at relationship and she was terrible at relationships and Wilson really wasn't any better. He did manage to commit to relationship--had done it three times--which was perhaps a step further than either she or House had gone. Yet, the fact his marriages all crashed seemed to indicate he wasn't any better at long term committment than they were.

When he pulled her into him, she pressed as close to him as she could get, wrapping her arms around his waist. She buried her face against his chest and breathed in his scent. The weird thing was he didn't smell right. Well, he smelled right but the soap and shampoo he used in the hospital weren't his usual and it made him smell like a...a patient.

She knew Wilson was right; there was an awful lot she and House needed to discuss, a lot of decisions they needed to make. House being hospitalized was going to make those discussions far more difficult because of their limited time together but she couldn't bring herself to spend that time arguing instead of enjoying each other. Somehow, some way, as House got better, they'd figure it all out. That was part of the reason for him to be hospitalized--to get healthy so they'd be able to deal with things in a more constructive manner.

She pulled back a little and leaned in, tilting her chin up to give him another kiss. "I don't suppose they allow conjugal visits here," she said in soft voice. She was teasing--she knew conjugal visits weren't allowed--but it was a way to let him know how much she missed him. "After all, that way I could give the doctor the daily report on your erectile capacity."

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