Losing It, chapter 30 :)
Oct. 1st, 2008 01:30 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
darkdreamer*hugs*
DoS
Title: Losing It
Betaed by: ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
californiaquail
Rating: R
Summary: After Amber's death, Wilson is having trouble moving on, he cant bring himself to forgive his former friend for the part he played in her loss. All he can think about is vengeance. House is willing to do anything to earn back Wilson's friendship, and this proves to be a recipe for disaster.
Warnings: abuse, violence, dark themes, mild language, *very* dark Wilson throughout
Chapter 30
Reminiscence
By the time she left her office at six-thirty that evening, Cuddy was exhausted. It had been a typically long and stressful day, compounded by the situation with House and his family. She was trying her best to be supportive to a man who was more resistant than most toward any attempts at support.
Of course, at the moment, House seemed more receptive to her attempts at comfort than he had ever been in the past.
Every time the phone rang, Cuddy wondered if it was the police, with word of Wilson – or someone calling to tell her that something had gone wrong at House’s apartment. Maybe the security guard had fallen asleep, or left House alone for a few minutes to get a coffee, or something that had left him vulnerable to attack. What if House was hurt, or worse, because of her failure to provide him with adequate protection?
Each time she answered to find that it was an ordinary, routine sort of call did nothing to quell her fears the next time the telephone rang.
She allowed herself to feel a measure of relief when the time came to leave her office, and she hadn’t received any urgent, emergency calls about House or Wilson. However, it was somewhat troubling to note that she still hadn’t heard anything from the police about Wilson’s whereabouts. As of now, no one knew where he was, or what trouble he might be getting into while the police searched fruitlessly for any sign of him.
She was eager to get to House’s apartment, if only to reassure herself that he was safe.
When she knocked on his door ten minutes later, she was surprised to find that he seemed just as eager to see her. It was impossible to miss the relief in his eyes when he opened the door, the tense set of his shoulders easing as he took a step backward to allow her entrance, nodding a terse greeting to the guard at the door before closing it quietly behind her.
“It’s about time you showed up,” he grumbled. “I was about to chew off my own arm.”
Cuddy raised a single brow, a slight smile on her lips. “Getting a bit stir crazy, or just hungry?”
Her comment brought the barest ghost of a smile to House’s face. “Little bit of both,” he admitted. “Where are we going?”
“You’re letting me choose? Just like that?” Cuddy teased, though she had already made a reservation.
“I’m letting you pay.” House shrugged. “Seems only fair.”
Cuddy smiled, glad to see signs of the old House showing through the tired, worn down demeanor he had been carrying for the last few weeks. Still, she could see the weariness in his eyes… the taut, anxious lines of his face. Recognition of his brave attempt to conceal his vulnerability made her want to reach out to him, to put her arms around him and offer him comfort.
She settled for an affectionate push on his shoulder, turning him slightly back toward his bedroom. “Go get a jacket if you’re coming with me,” she ordered. “Otherwise they won’t let you in the door.”
“Oh, so it’s that kind of place.” House sighed, rolling his eyes, but Cuddy could tell that he didn’t really mind. “You sure they won’t kick me out anyway?” He held up his cane, apparently indicated his crippled status. “Some of those types of places take issue with minorities.”
“You’re no minority, House.” Cuddy smirked. “What, you think there’s a shortage of pains in the ass in the world?”
“Apparently not, judging by the statistics in this room.” House’s words were muffled as he disappeared into his bedroom, presumably looking for a suit jacket to put on over his rumpled button down.
Cuddy had deliberately chosen a higher end restaurant, wanting to give House a pleasant evening out. She knew it had been far too long since anyone had done anything nice for him, made him feel special, like they enjoyed spending time with him – and as vehemently as he would have denied it, Cuddy knew that everyone, even House, needed those things.
And although under ordinary circumstances she probably never would have admitted it – Cuddy did enjoy spending time with House.
Possibly… a little too much.
She had chosen a popular fusion restaurant someone at the hospital had recommended to her – a trendy, casual spot for lunch that transformed in the evening into a reservations-only kind of place, with an elegant, unique dining atmosphere.
Or so Cuddy had been told.
When the casual conversation came to an abrupt halt at the doors to the restaurant, Cuddy frowned in concern at House. He had stopped short on the sidewalk, staring up at the sign above the doors, a slow, convulsive swallow visible in his throat. He looked pale, and Cuddy could see reluctance in his eyes, his stance, as he hesitated outside the door.
“Is everything all right?” she asked softly, casting a bewildered glance toward the restaurant, seeing no sign of whatever was causing him such apprehension. “House?”
He shook his head slightly, as if shaking himself out of a daze, before giving her a self-conscious glance. “Yeah.” He nodded. “Everything’s fine.”
“Have you… been here before?” Cuddy hesitated, her eyes searching his face for the answers to her unspoken questions.
“Once.” House didn’t look at her as he answered, his mouth forming a grim line as he just continued to stare at the doors of the restaurant.
“We could… go somewhere else…?”
House shook his head again. “No,” he insisted. “No, it’s fine. This is good. Food’s great.”
“Are you sure…?”
Cuddy knew better than to allow her concern to show, but she couldn’t help it. She could tell that something was wrong, but had no idea what it was or how serious it might be. And for his part, House seemed determined to pretend that nothing was wrong at all.
“Yes, Cuddy, I’m sure,” House replied, his voice tight and restrained with exaggerated patience as he took a firm, deliberate step forward. “Come on. We’re gonna miss our table if we stand out here all night.”
Actually, they were right on time for their reservation. A well-dressed maitre ‘d saw them to their table, and within moments, their server was there, ready to take their drink order. Cuddy smiled politely up at him as she ordered her cosmopolitan, failing to notice House’s slight flinch when he heard her order.
When the waiter turned to House, he shook his head just slightly, indicating that he would not be ordering alcohol – but then froze, a pensive frown creasing his brow as he reconsidered. He hadn’t touched alcohol since the night of the accident; anytime he poured himself a glass, he found himself too sickened by his own guilt to take a sip.
Tonight, however, felt like a good time to make a change.
“You guys have a drink here… I have no idea what it’s called. It’s… cotton candy blue, and tastes… about like cotton candy. I think, just maybe there’s a trace of actual alcohol in it, under all that tooth-rotting sugar and artificial coloring. Do you know what I’m talking about?”
House was smiling up at the waiter, genuinely trying to be polite – but at this point even when he was sincere, to Cuddy’s eyes, the expression seemed utterly false on him. The waiter seemed a bit unsettled by the older man’s toothy grin and piercing eyes, not quite making eye contact as he suggested a drink he thought fit the description House had given him.
“Yeah. I’ll have one of those.”
As the waiter left to get their drinks, Cuddy raised her eyebrows in a questioning expression.
“What?”
Cuddy shrugged casually. “Nothing. That just… doesn’t exactly sound like your kind of drink, is all.”
House gave her a look of mock horror at the idea, faking a shudder. “It’s not,” he said emphatically. He was quiet for a moment, his expression growing serious again, and Cuddy could see the momentary debate in his eyes, before he drew in a deep breath and admitted softly, “It’s Amber’s.”
Cuddy’s eyes widened before she remembered to control her reaction, and she took a sip of her water before prompting quietly, “Amber’s?”
House nodded slowly, looking down at the tablecloth as he calmly explained. “The… one time I was here before. It was with Wilson and Amber. She… ordered one of those.” A bittersweet smile crossed his face as he amended, “She ordered two, if you count Wilson’s – which I do. Cotton candy flavored alcohol isn’t exactly his thing, either.”
Cuddy hesitated, choosing her words with caution, keeping her tone carefully neutral. “That must have been… unbearably awkward.”
She laughed quietly, surprised at her own words, after all. She had meant to say “nice”, but found at the last moment that she couldn’t be anything less than honest with House on this subject.
He’d know if she wasn’t, anyway.
House let out a nearly silent chuckle, nodding. “It was. Of course… it might not have been, if I’d actually been invited.” He paused, considering before amending, “No. It’d still have been unbearably awkward. I think I had more fun giving the two of them a hard time.”
A slightly awkward silence descended then, House staring down at the table, lost in memories, as Cuddy idly sipped her water again. She could tell he had something on his mind, was on the verge of speaking again. All she could do to help him get there was to let him find his own words, without pushing.
Finally, he spoke, his voice low and heavy with regretful memory. “When all this started… with Wilson… it was… it was about her. He was… punishing me, for… for what I did to her…”
Cuddy frowned. “House, you didn’t…”
His raised hand silenced her well-intentioned protest, and he went on softly. “He felt like he had the right to… to make me pay for costing her her life.” He hesitated, before adding more quietly, “Maybe he did. A little. But… but after a while, it wasn’t about her anymore. I can’t even remember the last time he mentioned her name.”
Cuddy was surprised and touched by the genuine sorrow, the unusual note of respect she heard in his voice when he mentioned Amber. She hesitated, torn between going with her own instincts, and going with what she knew of House’s instincts, before finally venturing to slide her hand across the table, the tips of her fingers brushing gently against the back of his hand.
“He became so consumed with his anger, he forgot why he was angry in the first place,” Cuddy agreed gently. “He took it much farther than she ever would have wanted him to take it.”
She fell silent as the waiter arrived with their drinks. House waited until he’d set them down and walked away to glance up at her, a solemn, almost shy look in his arresting blue eyes as they met hers. He picked up his glass, raising it toward her slightly, and Cuddy mirrored the gesture with her own glass. His voice was quiet, almost reverent, as he voiced his simple toast, and downed the contents of the glass in a single draught.
“To Amber.”
******************************
When House ordered his second drink – a much more manly and suited-to-him scotch on the rocks – Cuddy knew that she had to limit herself to her first drink, as she would be driving.
House, apparently, felt no such limitations.
She couldn’t really blame him for wanting to make the world go away for a little while, given the current circumstances of his world. Still, she gently stopped him after the fourth drink, reminding him teasingly that her expense account would only stretch so far. House knew that wasn’t her real reason, but allowed her to stop him anyway, and Cuddy felt a warm rush of affection for him when she realized it was for her benefit.
Stopping before he was sloppy, staggering drunk was House’s version of respect for her.
When they left the restaurant, House was not drunk, just… pleasantly relaxed.
Cuddy drove him to his apartment, walking inside with him to be sure that he was all right – though tonight, the fears that had been plaguing him seemed to be far away. While she had witnessed House drunk, and had no desire to do so again, Cuddy had to admit that House almost drunk was a much more pleasant animal entirely. He was actually smiling, making jokes with her that had nothing to do with her body or clothes, and making no effort to hide the fact that he was actually enjoying her company.
At his request, she sat with him on the couch for a while, just watching television and enjoying a companionable silence, broken by the occasional sarcastic comment about the show they were watching. When Cuddy finally thought to look at the clock, it was after eleven.
“I’ve really gotta go,” she sighed, surprised to find that she was actually disappointed, as she rose to her feet.
She let out a startled yelp as she found herself abruptly yanked back down onto the sofa. She blinked as she looked at House’s hand, closed around hers, then met his eyes with a questioning look.
“No, you don’t,” he drawled lazily.
“House… really,” Cuddy insisted, twisting her hand out of his and starting to rise again. “Some of us still have to work in the morning.”
“You’re the boss. You can go in whenever you want.”
“No,” Cuddy slowly corrected as she stood, “I’m the boss. I have to practically live there to do my job.”
House just caught her hand again, pulling her back onto the couch, and slightly closer to him. He met her gaze, his own more honest and vulnerable than she was accustomed to seeing it. She waited as he opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again, then finally admitted in a quiet, reluctant voice,
“I… don’t want you to go. Yet. I…”
He hesitated, looking away, and Cuddy felt a pang of mingled sympathy and guilt when she realized that House simply did not want to be alone. Her face was mere inches from his, and it was impossible to miss the fear rising in his eyes again.
“House,” she gently murmured, raising a hand to his cheek, “you’re perfectly safe here. There’s a guard outside…”
“Great. I don’t care.” House shrugged, meeting her eyes again as he stated with unusual honesty, “I want you to stay.”
TBC...hit counter
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no subject
Date: 2008-10-01 12:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-01 01:28 pm (UTC)And that toast to Amber got me all chocked-up. So sweet.
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Date: 2008-10-01 01:38 pm (UTC)Sorry, I have been so awful in commenting lately, been letting some things pile up so I can have have more to read at once :) Doesn't always work out that way, sometimes I peek though LOL.
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Date: 2008-10-01 02:15 pm (UTC)I'm a big Huddy fan so this was like christmas for me!
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Date: 2008-10-01 02:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-01 03:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-01 03:09 pm (UTC)I really liked that House is able to be a little more open here than is usual for him. Cuddy is probably the only person, other than Wilson as he was who House has ever been able to be at least a little open with. He really does need that right now as well as knowing that Cuddy does support him and is concerned about his welfare as a person, not simply a very talented employee.
I still think that she really needs to continue having the guard with House since even with new locks it won't prevent Wilson gaining access if he really wants to. Leaving House on his own right now for any reason is a monumental error.
She is correct in her worry about not having heard from the police since the longer Wilson is left to plot the worse his animosity will become. House is correct also in his statement that this has gone so far beyond Amber that Wilson isn't thinking about her at all anymore. At this point I'm not sure there is anyone who can get through to Wilson. Putting Wilson & House together by themselves at this point could only be catastrophic since Wilson isn't listening to anyone but his own hate.
no subject
Date: 2008-10-01 08:25 pm (UTC)I like the break allowing House to interact with Cuddy in a positive way. Knowing you, this is going to crash somehow -I'm going to guess Wilson being resentful of House daring to try and enjoy himself when he should be suffering and cowering in fear instead. Oh, and of course Wilson's theory about Cuddy not really being interested in House, but just feeling sorry for him. I see that coming up in the next chapter -perhaps Wilson will renew his gun license.
no subject
Date: 2008-10-02 04:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-02 04:03 pm (UTC)Kiss her for Xsake !
“Some of those types of places take issue with minorities.”
“You’re no minority, House.” “What, you think there’s a shortage of pains in the ass in the world?”
“Apparently not, judging by the statistics in this room.”
Love your sense of humour as much as I love your dark plots.
Thanks.
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Date: 2008-10-03 09:31 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2008-10-03 09:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-04 11:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-04 08:59 pm (UTC)He had been drinking that night Cuddy found him, when she took him out for mexican food, remember? Same night he told wilson to fuck off.
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Date: 2008-10-05 05:45 am (UTC)no subject
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