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 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."

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?"

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."

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.

"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."

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.

"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."

House slowed his pace even more once they were walking, to stall for time and so the nurse would walk on ahead so they'd have a last few minutes of privacy. He thought over Cuddy's question. Yeah, there was something he'd like her - or someone - to bring in and that was alcohol. But he knew that would not only not fly with the hospital and would land him in isolation, it wouldn't fly with Cuddy. Wilson he'd perhaps be able to coax into bringing him some. But if Cuddy found out...

"Music," he said, meaning his ipod. "Gameboy." He hadn't thought to pack those at the time. "Maybe some more clothes. Having to wash everything every few days is annoying."

He'd be fine not washing everything every few days, to wear his clothes and keep wearing them until they badly needed to be washed. The nurses never let him get away with things like that, however. They all knew that part of the reason he was in the psych hospital was because of drug addiction issues, despite not having taken any Vicodin in months apart from that one time. They therefore treated him with little sympathy and a lot of 'tough love', forcing him to have order and structure in his every day life, right down to making his bed every morning.

"Also, washing powder. I hate the stuff they have here. Toothpaste. Soap." He glanced at Cuddy, then looked away across at the grounds. "Maybe a couple of pictures of when we were in Europe. The ultrasound picture on my fridge."

"Okay, sure, I think I can manage to get that stuff gathered up for you."

The things he'd asked for were so small, positively mundane. Soap, toothpaste--they hardly seemed important but she imagined having those small but familiar things would make him feel a little more normal. He couldn't have the big things--he couldn't sleep in his own bed or shower in his own bathroom or play his piano. Maybe something as simple as having shampoo that smelled like he wanted it to smell would make him feel a little more in tune with his environment. Or at least not so completely out of place.

She thought she might be able to come up with a few more little things he might like. She'd have to check with the charge nurse and find out what was or wasn't allowed because she didn't want to inadvertantly cause problems for House but once she had an idea of what was kosher, she was pretty sure she could find a few little 'surprises' he might enjoy. It wouldn't be anything big, naturally, but with his life stripped down so bare, she figured even a little surprise, some small luxury, would be welcome.

They were ambling up the path, moving slower and slower as they drew closer to the door. It wasn't deliberate. Her feet simply seemed to grow heavier as they approached. She glanced up at the nurse, who was standing next to the door. He wasn't rude, didn't even say anything, but he nodded at the door, a clear message it was time for House to be back inside.

"Come on," she said to House as they reached the steps. "We need to find Wilson anyway." The nurse held the door open for them so she released House's hand and led the way inside, allowing him to follow her and squeeze out the last few seconds of quasi-freedom. Once inside the nurse went about his business and left them alone to spend the rest of their limited time together.

Cuddy gave House a moment to adjust to being back inside. She combed her fingers through her hair, neatening it, as she looked around for Wilson. She let out an exasperated sigh as she caught a glimpse of him near the door to the common room. He obviously hadn't wasted any time finding that young woman again.

"I swear," she said, directing House's attention down the hall. "Wilson's the one who really needs a leash."

He had a mind to tell the nurse to get lost, that he was perfectly capable of seeing his own way into the hospital. Instead, he just gave the nurse a resentful look, which the nurse ignored by simply waiting patiently for House to enter the building. "I pretty sure Wilson won't be too hard to find," he told Cuddy dryly.

And sure enough, when Cuddy directed his attention to Wilson, there he was chatting up Justine again. "And a muzzle," he agreed with Cuddy. "Neutering is the only cure for people like Wilson." He limped down the corridor and came to a stop behind his friend, peering over his shoulder at a pale-faced Justine, who'd been talking earnestly with Wilson. "You two done with sniffing each other's crotches?" he interrupted.

"House," Wilson said, a little startled. He looked over his shoulder at House, then at Cuddy, and his defensiveness kicked in. "We were just talking," he replied.

"I bet you were," House said in a dry tone. "Except we both know that the sympathetic listening to talking ratio is hugely unbalanced when it comes to you."

Wilson looked at Justine. "Excuse me." She nodded and backed away meekly, and Wilson turned around to face House and Cuddy. "Have a nice walk? I thought you'd be out there a little longer."

"We were rounded up by an Orc in a nurse's uniform and forced to return to Isengard," House replied.

Wilson looked at his watch. "We still have some time left. I think visiting hours end at three." He turned his gaze to Cuddy. "We can have another coffee or...?" Really, it was up to House what he wanted to do but it was heading for three now and if Cuddy wanted to spend the last quarter of an hour or so with House alone, then he was okay with leaving them be.

Cuddy hesitated for a moment. She was willing to allow House to decide if he had a strong preference but.... Well, Wilson had been kind enough to give her some time alone with House and even though it wasn't enough, the truth was, it was never going to be enough as long as he was in the hospital and his time was controlled. She thought it would be good for House to have a little more time with Wilson as well. She knew their relationship was important to House. She knew Wilson offered a friendship House hadn't had with anyone else. She wasn't going to be as kind as Wilson and take herself out of the picture, not when there was so little time left, but there was no reason they couldn't all sit down and visit a few moments longer.

"Let's get some coffee," she said. "I think House needs to warm up." She gave Wilson a playful shove toward the common room. "And I don't trust you out of my sight."

"It was just a conversation," Wilson protested. He allowed himself to be guided to the common room but he wasn't going to be silent about these ridiculous accusations. Justine was just a lonely young woman and he'd had nothing to do while waiting for House and Cuddy to return. He'd simply engaged her in conversation, nothing more.

"Sure it was," Cuddy said in a dry, disbelieving tone. She supposed there was something reassuring in the fact Wilson never changed. Right now she needed something in her life that hadn't changed. Still, it wasn't a good idea to let Wilson loose in a place like this. It was like a smorgasboard of needy women for him to sample and the last thing he needed was to find wife number four in a mental hospital.

She took a seat at a table and waited for the men to serve themselves coffee and join her. She reached over and rested her hand on House's thigh, just to keep the physical connection for a bit longer.

Wilson sipped at the bitter brew. It was hot and it contained caffeine and those were its only positive attributes. The crazy thing was, as much as he felt bad for House, he'd give anything to have his brother in a place like this. Truthfully, he'd be glad to have his brother anywhere he could be sure Danny was safe but to have him in an actual hospital with doctors and medications--that would be ideal.

"So what do you do for fun around here?" he asked, pushing aside his own thoughts as he turned to House. "I mean, they do let you do something for entertainment, don't they?"

"For your information, I wasn't sniffing her crotch," Wilson told House as he joined him by the counter to make coffee.

"The more you deny something, the more it reveals the truth about you," House snorted. He spooned some coffee grounds into a cup, then handed the jar across to Wilson to help himself.

"I wasn't," Wilson exclaimed quietly, hoping no one else could hear the conversation.

House scooped two heaped teaspoons of sugar into his coffee, stirred hot water into it and tossed the spoon into the sink. "Keep telling yourself that," he said, giving Wilson a pointed look before he headed over to the table where Cuddy was. Wilson was close to follow and House gave Cuddy the barest hint of a smile when he felt her hand on his knee.

"Of course they do," he replied to Wilson sarcastically. "Nothing's more fun and entertaining than playing board games, doing arts and crafts and kicking a soccer ball that you can't actually join in and kick around."

Wilson sipped his coffee and put it down on the table before crossing his arms over his chest. He wasn't sure if House was being deliberately disdainful towards because being in this hospital was hardly any fun, or if he was just being typically disdainful of other people's idea of fun in general. Either way, it was fairly typical response. House usually wasn't having fun unless it was at someone else's expense or involved something out of the ordinary, usually pissing someone off. Being in such a sedate surrounding as a psychiatric hospital was hardly going to be that entertaining.

In fact, Wilson wondered how House hadn't gotten bored out of his mind yet from the sheer lack of stimulation, or the kind of stimulation he required in order to curb his restlessness. Then again, House had hardly presented himself as his typical self. He himself had been pretty sedate, flat, lacking the spark that made him House.

"Fine, let me rephrase," Wilson said. "What do you do for entertainment in here? Besides dissecting everyone's psyche and no doubt trying to find some way to sneak out of all your therapy sessions."

House raised his brows, sniffing. "Don't know. Guess you got me pegged." He sipped his coffee and slipped his hand over where Cuddy's was still on his thigh. He shrugged. "This place isn't exactly Vegas. I get bored. I read. I eat. Watch TV when some other moron isn't hogging it. Stay in my room. Wander. Get put in time out every time I try playing hookey to my therapy sessions."

"I'll bring you some toys to relieve the boredom but you really shouldn't skip your sessions."

Cuddy wasn't sure if House was serious about playing hooky but it would certainly be in character for him. It would also be very stupid, more so than his usual pointless resistance to authority. He'd made the decision to check himself in and get therapy. If he spent his time figuring out ways to avoid therapy, he was defeating the whole purpose of being here. He'd only be hurting himself by sabotaging his own recovery...which would also be very typical of him.

"Skipping therapy is only going to prolong your stay," she pointed out in a quiet voice. "And I'd really like to have you home sooner rather than later."

"You want to be home before the Condo makes his appearance, don't you?" Wilson asked, adding his two cents as he turned his coffee cup around and around on the table. He knew as well as Cuddy that House was a genius when it came to undercutting his own well-being. House was the kind of guy who would literally bite the hand that fed him even while complaining he was hungry. Not being able to stop his self-destructive behaviors was one of the most frustrating aspects of being House's friend.

"Besides, the longer you're gone, the more opportunity Foreman has to usurp your throne," he added.

"Over my dead body," Cuddy interjected.

"You'll be gone soon, too, on maternity leave," Wilson pointed out. "That's going to leave the door wide open for Foreman's coup."

He stared down at his coffee cup. He'd only tried getting out of therapy a couple of times but he'd suffered the consequences for doing so, confined to a room as part of time out and rostered on extra cleaning duties. And no, he didn't want to prolong his stay here but damn, he found those therapy sessions hard.

He just threw Wilson a look that silently said, 'of course I do'. He didn't know how realistic it was going to be, being home by the time the baby was born. That was one of the things he hated about being in here - the unknown, on so many levels. Not just the unknown of whether he'd actually pull through this, like he'd confided in Cuddy earlier, but how long he was going to be here.

"Over my dead body," House retorted about Foreman's coup. "For all I know, I could be out of here within a few weeks and back in work. And even if I'm not, this dictator will never be overthrown. Foreman will return to his rightful place on the food chain sooner or later."

He sniffed and yet again fished the tissue out of his pocket to wipe his nose. He glanced at Cuddy as he did so. Wilson bringing up maternity leave reminded House of how he'd said he wanted to be around more for the first couple of months. He'd even said he'd cut his hours down. And now... well, now he didn't know what the future held.

He moved his hand back to Cuddy's hand still on his thigh and he gave it a small rub.

"Even if both of us are gone, you're right next door," Cuddy told Wilson. "You can stop him."

"No," Wilson said, raising one hand in a 'stop' gesture. "I'm merely the King's fool. It's not my place to fight his enemies."

Cuddy let out a little snort. She was amused by Wilson's description of himself. It was accurate to a point, but he did more defending of House--fighting his enemies--than he was admitting.

"Well, I wouldn't worry too much. Cameron will scratch Foreman's eyes out if he makes a move." Cuddy wasn't worried at all about the team. Yes, Foreman would love to be in charge but he couldn't really do anything about it without her approval and she wasn't going to give him that. She was far more worried about House during his time away. And, as Wilson had reminded her, during her time off. She'd been focused on the question of House being present for the birth. She hadn't really thought further than that but the reality was, she might be facing a maternity leave without House around to participate. The thought of doing that alone was depressing. Even worse was the thought of having to bundle the baby up and make the trek to Mayfield so House could even see his child on some kind of regular basis.

She turned in her chair to face House more directly, turning the hand on his knee so she could grasp his. She didn't want to think about that right then. Everything was simply too uncertain to make any kind of plans. She'd just have to deal with things as they developed.

"About your team.... I told them you were taking time off to get some follow-up treatment for the injuries you got in the shooting." That was true enough--part of the reason he was here was because of the shooting--but she'd implied his problem was physical, not emotional. She'd felt like she had to give his lackeys some kind of reason because otherwise they were likely to go snooping on their own. Well, not Foreman. He didn't really care. But Cameron definitely would. Giving them something, she hoped, would keep their curiosity appeased.

"That seems to have satisfied them for now. At least they haven't been asking any questions," she continued. "So it'll be up to you what you tell them when you get back. You can tell them the truth or just leave it with the 'follow-up treatment' explanation."

Saturday, 21 April

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