Saturday, 21 April

[hbic-cuddy.livejournal.com]

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?"

Comments

[hbic-cuddy.livejournal.com]

"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?"

[whatstheddx.livejournal.com]

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.'"

[hbic-cuddy.livejournal.com]

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...?"

[whatstheddx.livejournal.com]

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."

[hbic-cuddy.livejournal.com]

"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.

[whatstheddx.livejournal.com]

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."

[hbic-cuddy.livejournal.com]

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."

[whatstheddx.livejournal.com]

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?"

[hbic-cuddy.livejournal.com]

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."

[whatstheddx.livejournal.com]

"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."

[hbic-cuddy.livejournal.com]

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.

[whatstheddx.livejournal.com]

"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...?"

[hbic-cuddy.livejournal.com]

"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.

[whatstheddx.livejournal.com]

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.

[hbic-cuddy.livejournal.com]

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."

[whatstheddx.livejournal.com]

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.

[hbic-cuddy.livejournal.com]

"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?"

[whatstheddx.livejournal.com]

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.

[hbic-cuddy.livejournal.com]

"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."

[whatstheddx.livejournal.com]

House snorted quietly, a slight smile tugging on the corners of his lips. "I wish," he replied just as softly. "Might make staying here more fun."

Sex had been the last thing on is mind for the past week, but sex wasn't the only part of their relationship. He missed Cuddy, too. He missed her touch and her kisses and her scent and her presence. There were so many things he missed. He even missed himself, even though he was with himself. The whole week had been such a jolting change, so surreal, coupled with the haze of new medication, that he felt like he'd lost himself somewhere in amongst all of it. Then again, he'd been feeling that way for a long while now, if he was honest with himself. For years he'd been feeling that way. But only since coming to Mayfield did he actually realise it because he really had hit rock bottom.

He let out a quiet breath and looked down, releasing his arm around Cuddy to run his hand down her arm. "Gets pretty lonely in here," he told her with a humourless quirk of his lips. "Even though there are nutjobs and trolls everywhere."

He moved his hand to her belly and lightly rubbed her bump, then lifted his hand back to her shoulder and met her eyes. "I'd swap all of this to spend a day fighting with you any day." He gave her a weary smirk, but then sobered.

"I don't know how things got like this," he admitted, murmuring and glancing away across at the grounds. "I don't just mean us. I mean... me. I was coping, I was... trying to cope. I thought I was getting better. I thought I was okay."

He swallowed and looked the other way. One of the 'trolls' was wandering by on the path and House waited until the nurse was out of earshot before he continued, his voice still low and now a little unsteady. "I'm not okay. I'm... I'm scared." He glanced away uneasily but then turned back to her again. "What if I can't pull through this? What if this takes years? What if...?" His voice broke ever so slightly. "What if I can't do this?"

[hbic-cuddy.livejournal.com]

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."

[whatstheddx.livejournal.com]

The thing was, he didn't know what 'normal' was. This was normal to him. Well, it was before he was committed. Coping, getting by, charging forward, ignoring whatever was bothering him - that was normal, had been normal for the last however many years. What would 'getting back to normal' be? He didn't know. That scared him. The thought of losing himself to, well, himself. He frowned slightly, troubled by the thoughts racing through his head, and his frown deepened when Cuddy leaned up to kiss him.

He closed his eyes and mentally tried to find some comfort in Cuddy assuring him that she'd be there no matter what. How could he be reassured, though, when he was facing the unknown? His eyes stayed closed even as Cuddy drew back from him, until she spoke again. He opened his eyes slowly and looked down at her, drained and stressed and tired. Yes, that was how he felt - weak when he needed help, like a failure because he'd reached this point. He felt anything but courageous. He wasn't used to feeling so helpless. That, too, contributed to how afraid he felt.

He gave Cuddy no indication whether her assumption was right or wrong. In fact, he didn't know how to answer her at all. He let out a quiet, frustrated sigh and looked down before lowering his eyes to where her hands were on his chest. Her hands were warm through the material of his sweatshirt and t-shirt. Warm and real and loving.

He suddenly wished she could pay conjugal visits, if only so he could be with her in here for longer than just an hour or two. He hated the fact that she was seeing him like this, in this setting, weak and vulnerable... but he also needed her. And he didn't know how long he was going to end up in here.

"I wish you didn't have to leave," he murmured.

[hbic-cuddy.livejournal.com]

"I wish I didn't have to either," Cuddy said. More accurately, she wished she didn't have to leave without him. The thought that very shortly she was going to have to walk out the front door and leave him locked in behind her made her heart clench. She was suddenly very glad he'd asked Wilson to bring him here the previous week. Watching him drive away from her house, knowing where he was going, had been difficult enough. Being here now and knowing she was actually going to have to walk away from him and somehow put a brave face on it--she didn't know how she was going to do it.

She felt like she had to put a good face on it, though. House was already depressed and frightened enough. She didn't want to make it worse by forcing him to see her own worry and pain. She felt like she needed to stay positive and hopeful for his benefit. Mostly she was hopeful. She was an inherent optimist and she did believe things would get better. Until they did, though, she had to cope with her own feelings of sadness and even anger at the situation she had to deal with. It was a good thing she'd agreed to let Wilson drive because she wasn't sure she'd be in any shape to anything once they left.

"It's going to be okay," she said, wrapping her arms around him again in a tight hug. Her words were muffled against his chest as she tried to keep her voice strong and even. She closed her eyes tightly, though, to make sure no tears could leak out. "You can call me whenever you want, for any reason you want. And I'll visit as often as I can. We'll get through this."

She shifted her head, looking off to the side, and she caught sight of one of the nurses at the entrance and he seemed to be looking directly at House. Her arms tightened around him, then she pulled back and nodded toward the nurse. "I think your troll is waiting to take you back to the cave."

[whatstheddx.livejournal.com]

House lifted his arm up around her shoulders and held onto her while she hugged him. He knew his time was going to up shortly, at least out here on the grounds. He'd been out here about half an hour already, the length of time Wilson had told him he was allowed out.

Cuddy's body was warm and solid where her face was buried to his chest and her arms around him. He lowered his head and pressed his lips to the crown of her head, and smelled the familiar scent of her hair, the shampoo that she used and the perfume she had on. He felt like he had to concentrate extra hard on remembering all the little details that were familiar about her because he didn't know when he was going to see her next.

He glanced over at the nurse heading towards him when Cuddy drew his attention to it and House tightened his arm around her. He suddenly didn't want to let her go. He wanted to keep her right here, close and real. So many things had been taken away from him already - everything from his belongings to his dignity (at least, he felt like his dignity had been taken by being locked up in here, regardless how much that was his choice). He didn't want Cuddy taken away from him, too, even if he knew in his rational mind that wasn't what was going to happen. He released his hold on her and dropped his arm away, though, as the nurse neared.

"Alright, House," the nurse announced. "Time's up." The nurse looked at Cuddy. "You and your friend can stay a bit longer inside, but visiting hours end at three."

House didn't acknowledge the nurse. Instead, he looked the other way until he felt Cuddy's hand in his. When he turned back in the direction of the nurse, he saw he was still standing, waiting for House to obey and it was with a huge deal of reluctance and a hugely begrudging look at the nurse that he did as he was told, limping slowly back onto the path with Cuddy to the hospital building.

[hbic-cuddy.livejournal.com]

"Thank you," Cuddy said to the nurse. She knew House would instinctively react negatively to being told what to do. The fact their time together was rapidly running out would only make him more reluctanct to comply. She felt a certain heaviness in her chest, too, because she hated the thought of leaving House, especially when she wasn't sure exactly when she'd be able to see him again. That would depend on both House and Junior. However, there was no point in antagonizing the nurse. He was only doing his job. He'd probably seen all kinds of behavior. Being argumentative or non-compliant wouldn't faze him; it would only reflect poorly on House.

She took his hand and gently urged him toward the path. She didn't try to hurry him. She was in no hurry to go back inside herself and she figured as long as they were moving toward the entrance, the nurse would be satisfied.

"Is there anything you want me to bring you next time I come?" she asked. She didn't like thinking about leaving him but it helped to plan for the next visit. Thinking ahead to next time had a more positive feeling. It helped remind her this was not permanent or forever. She would be back. And eventually--hopefully soon--she wouldn't need to visit because he'd be back home with her.

"Things you're allowed to have, I mean," she added, giving his hand a squeeze. "Don't ask me to bring in contraband. Neither one of us needs to be getting in trouble with the people in charge."