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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"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."

"He lies," House said of Wilson's claim that he was but a mere fool. "Wilson's a modern-day Feste. Plays the fool but is more than capable of exacting revenge on those he's not on good terms with."

"Actually, that sounds more like you," Wilson replied. "You make tormenting the likes of modern-day Malvolios an art form."

"Two of a kind," said House as he wiped his nose again. He sniffed, then pointed to Wilson. "The only difference is, you're in perpetual stealth mode."

"Better a witty fool than a foolish wit. At least I usually know when to keep my mouth shut, unlike you," Wilson said.

House rolled his eyes at Wilson just as Cuddy upturned her hand in his and he turned to her while pushing the tissue back into his pocket. He'd wondered what Cuddy had told his team. He had a feeling she would have given a smokescreen kind of answer, though his team were pretty cluey and smokescreen answers only worked as a bluff. "Except they're going to work out the true meaning of 'follow-up treatment' if I'm gone for several months."

He'd sobered somewhat when Cuddy had mentioned the shooting. The last couple of therapy sessions, his doctor had been trying to coax him into talking about the shooting, which he'd tried to hardest to dodge talking about. He just wasn't ready to face that yet. Hell, he wasn't really ready to face anything. But the anxiety talking about the shooting provoked especially made him want to dodge the topic. He couldn't handle addressing the issue and usually tried everything in his power to avoid it altogether. That had been part of the reason why he was prescribed prazosin - his doctor had told him his nightmares could possibly be even more prevalent while dealing with the issue of the shooting through therapy.

He shrugged. He almost couldn't bring himself to care right now what his team would think of his absence. He had much bigger things to worry about, though if Cuddy was keeping them and their curiosity at bay with smokescreen excuses, then all the better. "So long as none of them find out where I am. If they start getting too suspicious, just tell them you killed me in a pregnancy-hormone frenzy and buried me under the floorboards."

"Sorry to interrupt," a nurse said. "But you've got five more minutes before visiting hours are over."

"I think Cameron already suspects I've done away with you," Cuddy said dryly. Actually, she got the feeling Cameron thought House had run away so he wouldn't have to face being a daddy. Given his usual attitude, it was a reasonable assumption. Wrong, but reasonable. And for the moment, Cuddy was willing to let Cameron suspect all she wanted, just as long as she didn't go looking for House.

Keeping House's whereabouts a secret was purely for his peace of mind. All three of his fellows thought he was nuts to begin with. They knew, or suspected, House needed therapy. That wouldn't surprise them. They'd only be surprised he was actually getting it. Cuddy suspected they would even be supportive of the idea. There was still a stigma attached to mental illness, though. It wasn't as bad as it used to be but it was still there. If House wanted to keep it private, she'd do her best to keep his secret.

She looked up with a sharp pang of dread when the nurse interrupted. She'd known they were almost out of time but she hoped somehow time would slow down or all the clocks would break--something to give them just a little more time.

As the nurse walked away, Wilson glanced over at House and Cuddy. He downed the rest of his coffee and got to his feet. "I'm going to head on up to the admissions office--see if there's any paperwork we need to sign to get House home for the baby's birth," he told Cuddy. "I'll meet you by the entrance." He turned to House then, bobbling his empty cup in his hands. He wanted to tell his friend to behave, take his meds, work with his therapist. He knew he'd be wasting his breath, though. House did things only one way--his way.

"Take care of yourself, House," he finally said. He took his coffee cup over to the sink and rinsed it out. He glanced around one last time for Justine so he could say good bye. He just wanted to be polite--that's all it was. He didn't see her, though, so he wandered on out into the hall and headed for the entrance.

Cuddy reached over and laid her other hand on top of House's, sandwiching it between both of hers. The more time she wanted to have with him, the faster it seemed to go. She doubted she'd be lucky enough for time to pass this quickly until she got to see him again, although she realized their time apart would probably go a lot slower for House than it would for her.

"I'll be back soon," she told him. "Just as soon as I can manage."

House didn't realise how much he actually wanted Cuddy and Wilson to stay until he heard the nurse tell them they had to leave. Up until that point, he'd been wavering on the cusp of being very glad to see them and ashamed that they were seeing him in such a vulnerable state and environment. But the news that they had to leave in a minute brought it home to him just how lonely he was in here and he almost started to feel a little panicky.

He absently listened to Wilson tell Cuddy about paperwork that might need to be signed, and just nodded when Wilson told him to look after himself. He glanced over his shoulder to watch Wilson head out of the room, turning back to Cuddy when he felt her other hand on his. God, it wasn't like this was a final farewell. It wasn't like his stay here was even permanent. But it sure felt like it was. It felt like a farewell. Cuddy and Wilson were heading back home and would get on with their lives while he was stuck here.

He nodded at Cuddy's assurance that she'd be back. He gave her hand a squeeze before reaching his other hand up and he took both her hands in his. He rubbed his thumbs over the backs of her knuckles, then drew one of her hands up to his lips and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her palm with his eyes closed. When he opened his eyes again, he kept her hand pressed by his cheek for a moment, looking at her.

"Come on, House. Time to say goodbye to your guests now," the same nurse said, standing by House's chair. "You can walk them to the end of the ward."

Five more minutes, House wanted to say to the nurse. Just let me have five more minutes. But if he had five more, then he'd want another five more, and another five more. He lowered Cuddy's hand and gave it one final squeeze before he let it go and reached for his cane. He stood up and drew Cuddy to him with his arm around her shoulders and his face tucked in against the side of her neck as he hugged her tight, not wanting to let her go. He inhaled deeply, taking one last chance to bask in everything familiar about Cuddy.

"I miss you," he murmured loud enough for only Cuddy to hear, against her neck. Resting his cane against the side of his thigh, he moved his other hand to her belly and rubbed the side of it. He pulled back from Cuddy just enough to look down at her stomach. "I miss you, too," he told the baby, again only loud enough for Cuddy to hear.

Cuddy rubbed her thumb over House's stubble when he pressed her hand to his cheek. She wanted to tell the nurse to stop pushing them...except they weren't being pushed. It only felt that way because she wasn't ready to leave. She wanted to stay. She wanted to be able to touch him, just hold his hand. These little touches were what were going to get her through until the next time she could see him.

She let out a heavy sigh and shifted her hands to the edge of the table to pull herself to her feet. She wrapped her arms around him for one more hug, burying her face against his shoulder while she squeezed him tight. She pulled back with a wistful smile as he talked to the baby. "We miss you, too," she murmured. She glanced over House's shoulder and saw the nurse, very pointedly waiting.

"Come on," she said reluctantly. She took his hand and they walked slowly down the hall. There were a few other visitors heading for the doorway, but not many. She supposed a lot of people found visiting a psychiatric facility too depressing, and some of the patients probably didn't have anyone who cared enough to visit. That would never happen to House. She'd be there. Wilson, too. She knew Wilson would never give up on House.

When they reached the end of the ward she turned to House and gave him one more hug, clutching his shirt in a fierce grip. "Call me," she said, pulling back and reaching up to caress his cheek. "I'll even put the phone on my belly so Junior can hear you. The two of you can continue your evil plots to subvert my authority."

He was aware the whole time that the nurse was standing behind him, waiting. He wanted to turn around and snap at him to give them some space. All he could do, though, was take Cuddy's hand when she pulled back. It wouldn't matter if he barked at the nurse or not, Cuddy and Wilson would still be kicked out at three o'clock on the dot.

He wound their fingers together as they walked hand-in-hand down the hall, the sinking feeling of dread that Cuddy and Wilson were leaving weighing heavier and heavier in his gut with each step. When Cuddy turned him for one last hug, he gripped her upper arms and held her close. The expression on his face was despondent when Cuddy pulled back, though cracked a faint, thin smile when she said about him continuing his evil plotting with their kid through the phone.

"You say that now, but I know that'll only come back to bite me on the ass," he joked without much humour to his voice. He reached his hand up to hers on his cheek and kissed her palm again, then closed the distance to press his lips to hers, an exchange of soft, lingering kisses. He cupped her cheek to draw her closer, pulling back reluctantly when the kisses finally ended.

He glanced up and saw Wilson was watching them through the door where he was waiting out in the corridor. House dropped his hand from Cuddy's cheek to her belly and gave it one last rub before he pulled away from her. "Love you," he said to Cuddy quietly.

Cuddy leaned, almost straining to reach him over her belly. She pressed her mouth to his, focusing all her concentration on the feel of his lips, the heat, the texture.... She always loved kissing him but this kiss was more. It was an entire conversation in itself. It was a vow of love and a promise of better things to come. That was a lot to ask of simple kiss but she did her best.

She forced herself to smile at him as they parted. It wasn't easy to do but she was determined to make this as easy as possible for him. And maybe, just maybe, making it easier on him would make it easier for her to say good bye.

"I love you, too." She pulled back, running her hands down along his arms until she could grasp his hands. "It's going to be okay, House. Just...let your therapist help you and you'll be home in no time."

She looked over her shoulder as the nurse unlocked the door and held it open for her. She gave House's hands another squeeze, then let him go. She had to make herself take the first step through the door. Just one step, and then another, and then she nearly faltered as she heard it close behind her and the lock shoot home.

"You okay?" Wilson asked as she drew close to him. He'd been watching through the door as House and Cuddy parted. He hadn't been able to see Cuddy's face but he'd had a look at House and he could see just how hard it was for his friend to watch them go. Seeing Cuddy's face now, he could see how upsetting it was for her as well.

"No," she said as she walked up to him...and then continued walking right on past him. "But don't let House see it."

Wilson tilted his head, puzzled until he realized she was trying to spare House from feeling her pain as well as his own. He looked back into the ward and gave House a jaunty little two-fingered salute before he turned and followed Cuddy.

"Do you need a moment?" he asked once they were outside, standing on the front steps of the building.

She shook her head and swallowed hard before she could look at him. "He needs to be here," she said, trying to reassure herself this was the right thing to do.

"He needs help," Wilson agreed. He wasn't completely convinced House needed to be committed but he did agree that something had to be done. He'd decided not to second guess House's decision to check himself in because it was a positive move and those were few and far between for House.

"Come on," he said, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Let's go home."

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Saturday, 21 April

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