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Torch Songs for Two	By : Veresna Category: G through L > House Views: 4667 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own House, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Chapter 3: Say
It Isn�t So

Cuddy had
to admit that House had an interesting assortment of towels in his
bathroom. There was a wide variety of
colors and textures, and though none were monogrammed, a significant number of
them bore the names of various hotel chains.
Unfortunately, it appeared that he had specialized in stealing rather
small towels-the easier for stuffing into his duffel bag, she supposed. While they might be more than ample enough to
wrap around his thin waist, Cuddy was looking for just a bit more
coverage. In the end, she had to dig
through three stacks of towels before she found one large enough to wrap around
herself.

Tucking the edges under to secure
it in place, she walked back to the sink and frowned at the woman staring back
at her from the mirror. She could
honestly say that, unlike House, her face did not appear to be markedly changed
or aged. But she also had to admit that
she did not look particularly attractive at the moment, especially in the harsh
glare of bathroom light bulbs. There
were raccoonish rings of smudged mascara around her
eyes and her hair, strangely shorter than she remembered, was tangled and
knotted in places. Sighing, she looked
around the bathroom for a brush. Not
finding one on the vanity counter, she leaned over to pull open the door of the
medicine cabinet.

Her eyes widened as she stared at
the cupboard�s contents. The bottom was
nearly bare, with only an oral thermometer on one end of the shelf and a rectal
thermometer on the other. But the rest
of the cabinet shelves were stuffed to the brim.

There was an assortment of razors,
small plastic combs, and trial-sized deodorants and tubes of toothpaste that
looked suspiciously like those the hospital provided for its inpatients. There were a few bottles of over-the-counter
medications, but half a dozen pill vials filled with various amounts of
Vicodin. She leaned over to squint at
the labels and frowned at the sight of her own name as the prescribing physician
on one of them.

She picked up one the combs and
regarded it dubiously. She decided that
there was no way she would be able to work the close-set teeth through her
tangled hair and threw it back upon the shelf.

She closed the cabinet door and
shook her head wearily. Why a man who
apparently seldom bothered to shave his face or comb his hair would obsessively
stockpile these items simply because he could get them for free was not
something she wanted to think about at the moment, much less the suspicion that
he might have forged a prescription in her name.

She jumped in surprise as two loud
thumps sounded at the door behind her.
She walked over to open the door, and found House standing in the
hallway, a pile of clothes in his left hand.

�You almost ready?� he asked,
handing the clothes over to her.

He was dressed in a t-shirt and
blue jeans, but she noticed that his feet were still bare. She also saw, to her surprise, that he
holding a cane in his right hand. As she
reached out to take the clothes, it occurred to her that the thumping noise had
been produced by his banging the cane against the door.

�Yeah, I�ll be just a few more
minutes,� she assured him.

She closed the door and hurried
back to the sink, setting the clothes down upon the counter. She had already rinsed out the washcloth she
had used to wash her arms and legs, and folded it neatly over the towel
rack. Picking up a fresh cloth with one
hand and a bar of soap in the other, she prepared to wash her face.

The soap was cheap and gritty, and
her skin was stinging by the time she managed to scrub all the traces of her
makeup from her face. She hung the
second washcloth next to the first, and patted her face dry with the edge of
the towel she had wrapped around her body.
She hesitated for a moment and then, with a shrug, opened the medicine
cabinet and picked up one of the deodorant bottles. She unscrewed the cap and applied the sticky
liquid to her underarms, her nose wrinkling in distaste at its unpleasantly
antiseptic fragrance.

�Maybe
it would be better to smell like sweat,� she thought, tossing the bottle
back on the shelf.

She closed the door and looked down
at the stack of clothes. Although she
did not recognize any of the garments per se, she had to admit that they
appeared to be items she might typically wear on a day off of work. There was a pair of stone-washed jeans, a
clingy, short-sleeved pink sweater and a red thong stacked neatly in a pile on
top of a pair of casual leather sandals. Throwing off the towel, she quickly
pulled on the garments. Impatiently
brushing her hair away from her face, she studied her reflection in the
mirror. Leaving the sandals sitting upon
the counter, she picked up the towel from the floor and threw it over the side
of the bathtub.

�House?� she asked, opening the
door and peering through the hallway into the bedroom.

He was sitting on the end of the
bed, tying his shoes. He turned to
glance over his shoulder at her.

She cleared her throat. �Did I happen to have a bra?� she asked,
trying to sound as casual as possible.

His eyes dropped down to her
breasts and she saw his lips curling into a naughty grin as his eyebrows shot
upwards.

�Tsk, tsk. Must be awfully cold in that bathroom,� he
commented. �Hey, do you remember that TV
show �Twin Peaks�?� he
asked. �Don�t know why that suddenly popped
into my head,� he added.

She leaned against the doorway and
sighed, waiting for him to finish.

He tilted his head to the
side. �Bet all your employees will be
glad to see that the boss is in a perky mood today!�

�Very funny,� she replied, fighting
the urge to cross her arms over her chest again as she felt her cheeks begin to
flush. �Could you please just answer the
question?�

�Now that you mention it,� he said,
pursing his lips thoughtfully and looking up at the ceiling, �I do seem to
recall relieving you of that particular article of clothing earlier in the
evening. I�ll go check under the couch,� he told her, rising to feet.

Even though the sight of his
damaged thigh was still fresh in her mind, she was shocked to realize the full
extent of his disability as he limped out of the room. She was grateful that he had not turned back
to look at her, because she knew that he would have hated to have seen the
brief look of pity that had involuntarily crossed her face.

Leaving the door slightly ajar, she
walked back to the sink and picked up the sandals. Sitting down on the edge of the bathtub, she
bent down and fastened them onto her feet.

She had just finishing buckling her
right shoe when her gaze suddenly fell upon a small, strangely-shaped object
resting on the top of the trash sitting next to the sink. Puzzled, she rose to her feet and walked over
to pick it out of the garbage. Blinking her
eyes in surprise, she continued to stare at it for several seconds.

She started at the sound of the
door hinge creaking behind her. She
quickly tossed the item back in the garbage and turned back towards the
doorway. After a moment, the crook of House�s
cane came slowly creeping into view through the narrow opening between the door
and the jamb, a lacy red bra dangling from the end.

�I believe this is yours?� inquired
a disembodied voice.

�Why?� she asked, walking over and
snatching the garment from the end of the cane.
�Just how many bras did you find under your couch?� she challenged,
peering at him through the crack.

�That�s the only one in your size,�
he assured her, drawing his cane back.
�Besides,� he added with a smile, �I know you like to match.�

His smile broadened as she slammed
the door in his face.

She emerged from the bathroom to
find him once more sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands cupped over the
handle of his cane, and his chin was resting on top of his fingers. He was wearing a shirt and blazer over his t-shirt,
and there was a tweed cap upon his head.

Cuddy also noticed that, although
the sheet was still lying on the floor, he had pulled the rest of the bed
covers up over the mattress.

�Are you finally ready?� he asked,
tiredly.

�Not quite yet,� she said, reaching
over to pick up the purse that he had placed at the end of the bed.

As with the clothes, she did not
exactly recognize the bag, and yet she supposed there was something vaguely
familiar about the style. The same could
have been said for the sleek blue cell phone tucked into one of the purse�s
side pockets. She flipped it open and
stared at it, surprised by both its ultra-thin size and the unfamiliar array of
options on the keypad.

�Yeah, let�s just turn that off for
now,� suggested House, reaching over and grabbing it away from her hand.

She opened her mouth to protest as
he shut off the device.

�I know you think no one else is
capable of running the place,� he snapped, tucking the phone into his jacket
pocket. �But I don�t think you�re
exactly in �executive-decision� mode at the moment, do you?�

�I probably need to call someone in
administration or on the board,� she said, slowly. �To let them know that I�m having a problem.�

�I�ll take care of that when we get
to the hospital,� he promised. �If
we ever get to the hospital,� he added, shaking his head as she continued to
search through the purse.

�Sorry to keep you waiting, House,�
she muttered, unzipping another compartment.
�But some of us like to do a bit of grooming before we go out in public,
so we don�t look like we just fell out of bed.
Don�t say it!� she warned, glaring over the top of the purse as he
parted his lips.

To her surprise, he simply shrugged
and closed his mouth.

�Finally,� she said, reaching into
the purse and fishing out a brush and a small elastic hair band. It took her a few minutes to work out the
snarls and then she gathered her dark hair into a ponytail at the back of her
head.

She threw the brush back into the
purse and then reached in to bring out something wrapped in a plastic baggie.

�Do you mind if I brush my teeth?�
she asked.

�Yes!� he said, getting to his
feet. �Cuddy, if we don�t get to the
hospital soon, the diagnosis is going to be Alzheimer�s-for both of us.�

�Fine,� she said, tossing her head
as she threw the baggie back into the purse.
�I�ll put my lipstick on in the car,� she muttered, pulling the zipper
closed again.

�Oh, thank you for your sacrifice,�
he said, facetiously, holding out his hand.

She stared at him blankly.

�Car keys,� he informed her.

She looked uncertain.
�My car is in the shop."
"Oh."
"And somehow I don�t think it would be a good idea to take my bike.�
�You have a motorcycle?� she asked in surprise.
�Nope,� he said, shaking his head as he grabbed the purse out of her
hands and unzipped it. �A bike. It�s a real neat
Schwinn with chrome, hand brakes and a big saddle seat. Of course some people�s
saddle seat-
�Are bigger than others,� she finished for him as he retrieved a ring of
keys from the bottom of the bag.
�Exactly,� he said, tossing the purse back to her.
"So"
he added, holding the keys up by the tag, "I guess I get to take 'the beemer'out for a spin."
She definitely did not like that look of unmitigated glee upon his face.
"Oh, now, don't look so disappointed. I know you want
something powerful throbbing between your legs, but that will just have to wait
until you�re all well again.�

�Are you sure you�re okay driving?�
she said, purposefully keeping her eyes focused on his face.

�Oh, you
mean this?� he asked, using his left hand to point at his right leg and
cane. �Absolutely,� he assured her. �These days they�re letting us cripples do a
lot of things that �normal� people do.
Heck, sometimes they even let us go out in public in broad daylight.�

She looked
horrified.

�Oh, House, I didn�t mean-�

�Joke!� he said, holding out his
hands in exasperation and shaking his head.
�You able-bodied people are just so sensitive,� he chided, walking over
to the lamp and switching off the light.

She followed close behind him as in
the darkened apartment, noticing that he seemed to be moving with a little more
fluidity and less hesitation than before.
In fact, he was walking rapidly enough that she had barely time to look
around the living room as they strode through it. She was only able to see that most of the
walls were lined with bookshelves, and that there was a baby grand piano in the
corner of the room. He pulled the door
open and motioned for her to precede him through the doorway. She stepped out into the hallway and then
looked back as he appeared to hesitate.

�Just a minute,� he said,
disappearing back into the apartment for a moment.

�Here,� he said, crossing back over
the threshold and tossing a leather jacket over to her. �Even though the twins have appeared to
settle down for the night, you still look a little chilly,� he informed her.

�Thanks,� she said, putting her
purse down on the floor so that she could pull on the jacket.

It was ridiculously large on her,
of course, but she was instantly grateful for the welcome warmth it
provided. She pulled the strap of her
purse over her shoulder, and thrust her hands into the jacket pockets as he
locked the dead bolt. After a moment she
frowned and dug deeper into the right pocket.
Pulling out her hand, she stared, aghast, at the orange pill bottle in
her hand.

�My god, House, just how much
Vicodin are you taking?�

�Too much according to you and
Wilson,� he said, turning around to face her as he transferred his cane back
into his right hand. �Not enough
according to my leg,� he added, grabbing the bottle out of her hand and
transferring it to the pocket of his blazer.

�You still have Wilson?�

�Yeah,� he replied, making a
face. �I can�t get rid of that guy no
matter what I do,� he complained.

�I know the feeling.�

He merely smiled and pointed the
way out of the building. They walked in
silence as he led her to the car.

�It�s a beauty, isn�t it?� he said,
taking her keys from his pocket and hitting a button to unlock the doors.

�It sure is,� she agreed, opening the
passenger door and sliding down into the seat.
�I just hope it�s still in one piece by the time we get to the
hospital,� she added, under her breath.

House opened the driver�s side door
and then hesitated. He bent down and
peered into the interior.

�Hmm,� he said, studying the front
seat.

Cuddy couldn�t help but smile as
realized his predicament. Since her legs
were much shorter than his, he was at the moment trying to figure out how to
move the seat back to that he could manage to fit his long, lanky body behind
the steering wheel.

�Here,� she said, suddenly moving
forward and pressing a button on the dashboard.

There was a small whirring noise
and the seat began to move backward. He
waited until it had moved to the farthest position before he backed down into
the seat, both legs facing out the car door.
With a grimace, he pivoted his body and then gingerly moved his right
leg underneath the steering wheel, his right hand underneath the knee to help it
move into position.

Cuddy�s smile disappeared and she
quickly busied herself with buckling her seat belt. It was still hard for her to remember how
badly damaged his leg was, and that what would be an effortless movement for
her presented a physical challenge for him.

She turned back when she heard the
click of the key being placed into the ignition. His cane, she noticed, was lying on top of
the dashboard.

�Do you think it�s a good sign that
I remembered where the button was?� she asked, as he started the car.

He shook his head. �That�s reflexive memory, not declarative,�
he said, sounding slightly distracted as he played with other buttons to adjust
the side and rearview mirrors. Leaning
over, he frowned at the sound system controls.
After a moment, he managed to switch on the radio and continued to punch
buttons until he had succeeded in tuning in the local jazz station.

�Ahh!�

Cuddy could not keep from emitting
a small, involuntary cry as he suddenly put the car into gear and squealed out
of the parking space.

�Suh-weet
ride,� he drawled, smiling broadly.

�If you�re going to drive like a
maniac,� she began, holding out her hand.

�Yeah, right, you think you can
find your way to the hospital?� he challenged.

�No,� she admitted, shrugging her
shoulders.

Indeed, as they drove through the
streets, she would just seem to get her bearings, recognizing a building or a
store and then she would find herself lost again, surrounded by unfamiliar
landmarks. It didn�t help that she
remained more than a little anxious regarding House�s driving habits, but she
forced herself to remain quiet, knowing that if she made any more complaints,
it would goad him into speeding faster and driving even more recklessly.

Luckily, even in the large
metropolitan area where they lived, early Sunday morning was a relatively quiet
night for traffic. There were few cars
out on the street, and at most of the intersections the traffic lights were
blinking yellow and red. They traveled
through quite a few intersections without pausing before he was finally forced
to stop at a solid red light.

Screwing up her courage, she took
in a deep breath, and turned down the volume of the radio. She knew if was time to ask the question that
had been nagging her since her discovery in the bathroom.

�So�I�m trying�really seriously�to
get pregnant,� she said, a finally managed to say.

He kept his face turned toward the
windshield, and in the bright glow of the street lamps and traffic lights, she
could clearly see his reaction. His eyes
widened in surprise for just a moment before he frowned and began to
absentmindedly run his finger over the bridge of his nose.

She saw the change in color on his
face as the light turned back to green.

�Well, you�ve either had an
amazingly swift recovery,� he said, his hand dropping down to the wheel as he
moved his foot to the accelerator, �or somebody was snooping around the
bathroom,� he concluded, glancing over at her.

�I wasn�t snooping,� she
protested. �The ovulation test kit was
sitting right on top of the garbage and since it was bright blue, it was hard
to miss.�

He nodded, but, to her
astonishment, said nothing else, returning his attention to the front of the
car.

They traveled in silence for
several more minutes.

�Am I really that pathetic, House?�
she asked, finally.

A moment later she was again crying
out in fear as he suddenly steered the car towards the side of the road. Slamming on the brakes, he put the car into
park and turned to face her again.

�You know what?� he said, �You�re
absolutely right. What�s the point of
taking you to the ER? Why don�t I just
find a nice bridge for you to jump off of?
I mean,� he continued, shaking his head, �if you�re pathetic enough to
sleep with me-�

He closed his eyes and shuddered.

�That�s not what I meant and you
know it!� she protested. She dropped her
head tiredly into her hands for a moment.

�Look, House,� she said softly,
finally raising her head again. �There
has always been this sexual attraction between us; I don�t deny that for a
moment.�

�No, actually you�ve denied that
for a lot of moments,� he assured her, moving his hand to switch off the
ignition. �That whole bad memory thing
again,� he added, helpfully.

�But, what�s happening right now,
between us-�

She paused again and struggled to
find the words. �It�s just�weird.�

He frowned and glanced away from
her, his hand moving to push his hat up higher upon his forehead.

�House,� she said, gesturing
helplessly with her hands. �There was
not a single item of mine in your apartment.�

�As if you could tell right now?�
he challenged, looking back at her.

�Yeah, my memory�s toast at the
moment, but I am absolutely sure that there was not a single toiletry of mine
in that bathroom. Unless you count the
ovulation kit,� she said, rolling her eyes, �I�m sure I ended up paying for
that.�

�Are you implying I�m cheap?� he
said, feigning a shocked tone of voice.

Ignoring him, she continued: �I obviously don�t keep a change of clothes
at your place if you had to go around-�

She waved her hand
dismissively.

�-searching under furniture to find
me something to wear,� she said. �I
don�t even keep a damned toothbrush at your place.�

�That�s why you�re upset? All right, fine. I�ll let you keep a damned toothbrush at my
place,� he said. He shrugged. �Actually, I think there�s a space open right
next to the rectal thermometer. Which, by the way, you also bought.�

�House,� she said, her voice
continuing to rise, �You�re deliberately avoiding the point. I could handle this if we were pursuing a
serious relationship or-�

She threw her hands up in
frustration.

�-or even if we
were having a hot, strictly sexual affair. But what I can�t handle is the thought that
our relationship apparently consists of my showing up at your door a couple of
nights a month so that you can-�

She paused and crossed her arms in
front of her.

�-fertilize my eggs,� she finished
tiredly.

�Oh, I love it when you talk
dirty. I prefer the term spawn, myself.�

She found herself laughing in spite
of herself.

�Look, Cuddy,� he said, slowly,
shifting uncomfortably in the car seat.
�You expected that, by this stage in your life, you�d already be married
to some nice Jewish doctor, or lawyer or dentist.�

She brushed a strand of hair away
from her forehead and turned to look at him.

�In fact, you probably thought that
by now you�d be living in a ridiculously expensive house in the suburbs with a
couple of kids,� he continued. �Little
Isaac would be getting ready for his bar mitzvah and you�d be looking forward
to the day when little Miriam would be purchasing her first push-up-bra and
pair of stilettos,� he mused. �Just like
her Mommy.�

�I knew I couldn�t count on you to
be serious,� she moaned, leaning her elbow on the top of the car seat and
resting her head against her hand.

�All-too-familiar a story you
know,� he said, shrugging his shoulders.
�Young, fresh-faced Jewish American Princess graduates
second in her class in medical school and embarks on an exciting career
in medicine.� He sighed. �Then suddenly, without warning, she�s sucked
into the evil, swirling black vortex of hospital administration.�

By now she was managing a small
smile.

�The next thing she knows,� he
said, holding out his hands, �She�s this dried-up old hag who can�t even get a
date on the �I�m Really Really Desperate And Won�t Even Make You Wear A Condom dot com� website,� he
concluded.

�So, where exactly is that bridge
you were talking about, House?� she asked.
�Because I think I�m ready to push you off of it,� she informed him.

�Good, you must be feeling better,� he said,
smiling and bending down to turn on the ignition.

�Cuddy,� he said, looking back over
his shoulder to make sure the way was clear before pulling back onto the road,
�you want a baby,� he stated. �Your
biological clock is ticking and you�re tired of waiting for �Mr. Right� to come
along. And you�re emotionally stable and
financially secure enough to raise a child on your own.�

She nodded.

�You also happen to know a guy who
has spent years gazing longingly at your butt.�

�So, I figured I could count on him
to lend a �hand�? So to speak,� she
added, rolling her eyes again.

�No, actually, you meant that kind
of literally the first time you proposed the idea,� he informed her. �But, turns out this guy
isn�t exactly the altruistic type who�d be willing to go the paper cup,
copy of Hustler and turkey baster route.�

�I bet not,� she replied.

�Although,� he added, with a grin,
�funnily enough, another one of your pet names for me just happens to be
�turkey baster�.�

She lifted her eyebrows.

�Because-� he said. He held his hands out in front of him,
leaving a space nearly a foot long in between his palms and shrugged.

�Because all it takes is one
squeeze and you spurt out all over the place?�

�Does the phrase �fragile male ego�
mean nothing to you?� he whimpered.

�I guarantee,� he said, glancing
into the rear view mirror before changing lanes, �what�s happening between us
is not weird, it�s a very satisfying arrangement for both of us.�

�Quid pro quo?�

�Exactly. And it�s a real shame that your memory is
wiped at the moment, because if you could only remember how nicely my quo fits
into your quid.�

Her deliciously throaty laughter
filled the air.

�No, I mean it,� he insisted. �Look at all the advantages. You get an endless supply of all the �fresh,
never-frozen� spermatozoa that you could possibly want-�

�Right,� she said, shaking her
head.

�-and I get a little action between
my sheets.�

�Come off it, House, I�m sure
you�ve never had trouble getting that,� she demurred.

�Yeah, but it�s sure easier on my
Visa balance to get it for free once in a while,� he replied.

She bit her lip and turned to look
at him. She wondered if it was merely
one of his typical jokes, or if there was more than a kernel of truth to the
remark.

�Anyway,� he said, giving the wheel
a sharp turn. �Better get your lipstick
on. It�s almost showtime.�

She shivered and pulled his jacket closer
around her shoulders as he turned into the driveway leading to the emergency
entrance of the hospital.

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Torch Songs for Two