darkdreamer | Used, Chapter 44

Hi, guys, here's the next chapter of Used. It's a fairly emotional chapter in my opinion, though not a particularly bad or traumatic one. I really hope you enjoy it : ) Please let me know.

*hugs*
DoS

Title: Used
Beta:

misanthropicobs
Rating: R
Pairing: House/Wilson friendship, House/Cuddy friendship, Wilson/OFC, and possible future House/Cuddy, not in this fic though :P
Warnings: implied and explicit non-con, violence and non-con of a flashback/memory sort, mild language, general angst and trauma and darkness
Summary: House endures the unimaginable...will his friends be able to deal with it? Will he be able to deal with it? A story about damaged human beings, and ultimately recovery and healing

Chapter 44
Pressure

“I know it’s hard to accept, Wilson. But the nightmares, the flashbacks… they’re all… normal.” Cuddy’s lips twisted into an apologetic grimace over the word as she met Wilson’s eyes from her seat beside him on the sofa. “This is especially hard for us to watch, because we’re not used to seeing House like this. So… so vulnerable. But… everything you’ve described to me just sounds like… normal post-traumatic stress disorder.”

Wilson shook his head helplessly, his eyes focused on his hands. “This was so much worse than the other ones, Cuddy. You… you didn’t see him. It was like he… like he just gave up. He wasn’t… struggling, wasn’t trying to fight back at all. He was just…”

“He wouldn’t try to fight, Wilson,” Cuddy reminded him gently, reaching out a hand to cover his, silently encouraging him to meet her eyes. “Tritter convinced him not to. He’s made amazing progress in the past couple of weeks. Just the fact that he was willing to tell his story to Detective Benson… to come forward at all… is remarkable. But in his nightmares, nothing we’ve done matters. There… Tritter’s still in control.”

“I want to kill him,” Wilson muttered, and Cuddy clearly detected the tremor of tears in his voice. “I want to make that bastard pay for what he’s done to him… what he’s… reduced him to.”

“He’s going to be in jail in a few hours,” Cuddy reminded him. “Right now, we need to focus on what we can do to help House.”

“He needs to see a therapist,” Wilson stated quietly. “He’s not going to get through this until he talks about it.”

Cuddy nodded reluctantly with a heavy sigh. “The problem is… he was never open about his issues to begin with. He needs to see a therapist, but… he wouldn’t talk about anything before. There’s no way he’s going to open up to a professional now.”

“I know,” Wilson wearily conceded, raising a hand to his eyes and shaking his head, at a loss. “We just… have to find a way to… to convince him. Somehow.” He looked up at Cuddy, desperate determination in his eyes. “He’s internalizing everything, just like he always does, except… this time, this isn’t something he’s able to even pretend to deal with. What Tritter did to him was… beyond violation. He tortured him. He broke him completely. The most well-adjusted person would take years of therapy to recover, and even then… it’s not a sure thing.”

Cuddy’s brow creased with worry as she listened. “And House wasn’t even close to well-adjusted to begin with. Now, he’s got more reason than ever to believe that no one could ever understand what he’s going through – that there’s no one he can trust enough to talk to. But keeping all this inside is… is slowly driving him out of his mind.”

He was quiet for a moment, looking down, and when he finally met Cuddy’s eyes again, his own were shining with tears.

“If he doesn’t talk to someone about this… not just about what happened, but about how he feels about it… what it’s done to him… he’s going to lose his mind.”

They shared a sobered silence for a few moments, each considering the weighted truth of Wilson’s words. Finally, Wilson let out a shaky breath as he rose to his feet.

“Anyway… thanks for coming like this. I’ve got several very important appointments with patients today, and I just thought… I just… didn’t want to leave him alone right now.”

Cuddy nodded with an understanding smile and a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Are you sure it’s all right? You don’t have anything… important, at the hospital today?” Wilson asked, concern in his voice.

Cuddy’s solemn gaze turned toward House’s bedroom door as she replied, “Not more important than this.”

****************************

Unfortunately, Wilson’s meetings with patients were spaced out awkwardly throughout the day, not leaving him the option of simply leaving once they were finished. He had lots of free time in between appointments, which he decided to spend in the clinic. After all, if Cuddy was spending her day with House in his place, the least he could do was to try to make things run a bit more smoothly while she was gone.

Also, it made it easier to avoid House’s entirely too curious team.

Cameron had tried to corner him once, asking about House and where he was, if he was okay, but fortunately, Wilson’s first patient had arrived at that time, and the conversation was mercifully cut short before Cameron could find out anything potentially humiliating for House. As far as Wilson was concerned, neither Cameron nor the others had any right to know the details of House’s situation; and until an actual arrest was made, it would actually be dangerous for them to know.

“Dr. Wilson,” a nurse apprehended him on his way to the next random exam room, pressing a chart into his hand. “This patient is requesting Dr. House. I told her he’s not in today, but she’s insistent. I thought maybe… you might be able to…”

Wilson nodded, taking the chart and opening it. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but he could not remember why. He felt an odd sense of déjà vu, however, as he stepped into the room and looked at the patient seated on the exam table. Though he knew he had seen her before, it took her quiet, firm voice to remind him of exactly when and where.

“I need to see Dr. House. I asked specifically for him.”

“I’m sorry,” he told her with a rueful, apologetic smile, “but as the nurse told you, Dr. House is out today.”

“I know, but… I’m just following up from our visit a couple of months ago, and I… I really don’t want to talk to anyone else,” the young woman insisted. “Can’t you just… call him, maybe? See if he can come in?”

Wilson noticed that she seemed much calmer, more in control and secure than she had been the last time he’d seen her, and wondered at what might have happened in her life between then and now. These thoughts circled in his mind as he started to respond, automatically shutting her down in favor of sparing House any additional stress.

“I’m sorry, but he’s not feeling well today, and there’s no way he can come in.” He started to explain, but his words trailed off toward the end of the statement, and a thoughtful expression came over his face, as a strangely hopeful idea occurred to him. He gave her an appraising look, then added slowly, “But… I’m sure he’ll be available tomorrow. If you really want to talk to just him… come back tomorrow, and I’ll make sure that he’s here.”

****************************

“Wilson’s an idiot.”

House made the harsh declaration irritably as he rose to his feet and made his way into the kitchen, toward the beer in his refrigerator and away from Cuddy’s continued, albeit gentle, suggestions that he think about seeing a therapist.

“No… Wilson’s concerned,” Cuddy corrected, raising her voice enough that he could hear her from her seat on the sofa. She waited until he appeared in the doorway, allowing her to make eye contact as she added, “And so am I. House… you need to talk to someone.”

“I’ve talked to you; I’ve talked to Wilson, apparently more than I should have. If I feel another attack of pathetic-wuss-itis coming on again, trust me, you’ll be the first to know. But I am not going to some quack shrink who thinks that reliving my ultimate nightmare for a stranger is going to somehow make it go away.”

House’s voice was scathing as he walked back into the living room, but did not take his seat at Cuddy’s side again, choosing instead to release some of his anger and frustration by pacing furiously back and forth across the living room floor.

Cuddy’s voice was gentle but verging on desperate as she quietly replied. “House… you have to do something. You can’t sleep. You can’t be alone. You can barely function…”

“I’m fine,” he insisted, cutting her off as he turned to glare at her, momentarily ceasing his pacing. “It was just a nightmare. Wilson was just… overreacting, as usual.”

“Right.” Cuddy raised a single eyebrow to accompany her dubious look. “You do realize I’ve actually been here for the past few weeks, right?”

House flinched slightly at the reminder of just how much of his weakness she had seen. His shoulders tensed, and he turned away from her without a word, lowering his gaze in shame. Cuddy felt an immediate wave of guilt for her casual comment, as she rose to her feet and made her way cautiously toward him.

“House… it’s okay,” she insisted, moving around him to face him, looking up at him with a reassuring, sympathetic smile. “What you’ve been through would kill most people. The average person would lose their mind when faced with the kind of… of horrific…”

She let her words trail off, looking down for a moment and shaking her head before meeting his eyes again. Her voice was soft and solemn as she concluded her argument.

“You are so much stronger than the average person, House. So much stronger than you give yourself credit for. But… but that doesn’t mean that even you can get through this alone. You have to talk to someone.”

House refused to meet her eyes, swallowing hard, biting down on his lower lip to keep it from shaking as he turned his head away. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and hushed, betraying a slight tremor of lost confusion that made Cuddy’s chest ache to hear it.

“I… I can’t.”

She raised a hand to his cheek, a troubled, puzzled look on her face as she studied his expression. “House,” she began cautiously, her voice soft and reassuring, “you’ve already told me and Wilson… and Jenna… and Detective Benson. I know it’s not easy to talk about it, but… you did, in order to save your own life. How is it so much harder to talk about it to save your mental health?”

“This is different,” he insisted, his voice low and trembling dangerously. “This isn’t… telling Wilson what happened so he won’t get himself killed trying to figure it out. This isn’t telling a cop what happened so Tritter can be arrested. This is… it’s just… it’s different.”

Despite the vague, rambling nature of his response, at last, Cuddy understood.

Talking about the technical facts of what had happened was hard enough for House, but talking to a therapist would mean talking about more than that. It would require House to not only tell his story, but to also tell someone about the effect the rape had had on him… how he felt about it.

Cuddy was fairly certain that during the last few weeks, House had exhausted his vulnerability quote for the rest of his life.

“I’m fine,” House insisted quietly, awkwardly pulling away from her supportive hands. When she gave him a dubious look, he amended in a halting, uncertain voice that quivered with the tears he was forcing back. “I’m… going to be… fine. I don’t need to… to talk to anyone, okay? I’ll… get over it.”

Cuddy cringed at his weak protest, utterly unconvincing… but yielded to it.

For now, anyway; he’s not ready. He may never be ready. But if he doesn’t find a way to deal with this…

At that moment, the doorbell rang, mercifully pulling Cuddy from her troubling thoughts. House flinched at the sound, eyes darting to the door with dread. He tensed as she approached the door, taking an unconscious step backward.

“It’s okay,” Cuddy announced quickly after looking through the peep hole. “It’s just Jenna.”

House visibly relaxed, letting out a shaky breath, and made his way on unsteady legs toward the sofa. He sank down onto it, closing his eyes and resting his head against the back of the sofa, a convulsive swallow visible in his throat. Cuddy frowned, worried, as she opened the door for Jenna.

House was clearly not dealing with this anywhere near as well as he wanted her to think.

Too thrilled and excited to notice the tension in the room, Jenna was bouncing on her heels as she looked from Cuddy to House, waiting for both of them to look at her before she explained the reason for her visit.

“I just… had to tell you guys in person,” she began, her voice trembling with elated anticipation. “I had to see the looks on your faces when I told you… Tritter’s in jail. He was arrested. They issued a warrant this afternoon, and took him into custody at his house thirty minutes ago…”

“That’s wonderful!” Elated, Cuddy embraced Jenna in a spontaneous hug, laughing with relief and happiness. She pulled back, turning toward House with a beaming smile. “Isn’t that great?”

Both women froze as they gradually took in House’s unexpected reaction.

He was sitting up on the edge of the couch, eyes impossibly wide, staring at Jenna, as if barely able to comprehend what she had just said. He shook his head slightly at first, as if in disbelief, and Cuddy could clearly see hope and relief warring with fear and uncertainty in his eyes.

He had been afraid for so long, it was hard to accept that he was finally safe.

Cuddy slowly, cautiously approached him, as if she was afraid if she moved too quickly, he might bolt like a frightened animal. Reaching him, she knelt carefully in front of him, resting her hands gently on his knees.

Only when she touched him did House finally look away from Jenna, staring down at Cuddy with an almost puzzled look that told her he hadn’t even realized she had moved. His shoulders were shaking slightly, and the fragile control he had maintained throughout their conversation seemed on the verge of shattering completely.

Cuddy thought it might be a good thing if it did.

She reached her free hand up to run through his hair, her hand on his knee squeezing gently. “This is for real, House. He’s in jail. You’re safe. You’re really safe.”

She could almost see the crumbling of his walls in House’s eyes… relief and doubt and gratitude and disbelief all shattering upon impact with Jenna’s monumental news. House drew in a sharp, shuddering breath, and Cuddy quickly rose from her knees to sit beside him on the sofa, just in time to catch him as he fell apart, collapsing against her, shaking hands clasping her waist as deep, racking sobs shook through him.

“Shhh,” she soothed him, pressing a tender kiss to his temple as she held his head against her shoulder, blinded by her own tears as they filled her eyes and slid down her face. “It’s all right. You’re safe, House. Tritter can’t hurt you anymore."

TBC...

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From:

menolly-au.livejournal.com

Hmm, who is the mystery woman in the clinic? ( I have my suspicions!). Wilson with a plan is not usually a good thing for House, hopefully he knows what he is doing :) I am wondering if Cuddy is not being a trifle optimistic here thinking it is all over, Tritter being arrested is a long way from Tritter being convicted...

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Used, Chapter 44

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