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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
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Chapter 05:� The
Man That Got Away

�� Dr. Foreman
exited the elevator and walked towards the offices of the Department of
Diagnostic Medicine.� Although it was now
past daybreak, there were only a few meager rays of light creeping in through
the windows from the grey, overcast sky outside.� The white fluorescent glow from House�s
office made it easy to pick it out from the other dark, deserted rooms on the
floor.

�� Foreman
paused and gazed through the glass door of the office.� House was seated at his desk, peering over
the reading glasses that were perched on his nose to look at something on his
computer monitor.� His cap and blazer
were thrown carelessly on the shelf behind him.�
Lying open and scattered all over his desk was an assortment of
reference books and medical journals.� He
held a pen in his right hand, drumming it softly against one of these books,
and when Foreman pushed open the door, he could hear music playing softly in
the background.

�� House
turned his head as the door opened, his eyes immediately fixing upon the long,
thin envelope that Foreman was carrying in his hands.

�� That took
long enough,� he grunted, tossing the pen aside.� �What�s the verdict?� he asked, holding out
his hand as he rose to his feet.

�� See for
yourself,� replied Foreman, carefully keeping his voice and face free of
emotion.

�� House undid
the clasp and pulled out the enclosed MRI images.� Leaving his cane propped up against the desk,
he limped awkwardly over to the lightbox.

�� I see
you�ve already got the lab results,� Foreman noted, sitting down and nodding at
the sheets of paper lying on top of one of the magazines.� He tossed a copy of the neurological exam he
had performed next to the stack of lab reports.

�� Yes, and
they�re all remarkably unremarkable,� said House, fitting the films into the
grooves of the lightbox and turning on the light.

�� Standing
close to the screen and keeping his glasses on, he frowned and wordlessly
scrutinized the images for several minutes.�
Then he stepped back and removed his glasses, absentmindedly chewing on
the eyepiece as his eyes flicked over the pictures once more.

He turned and slowly made his way
back to his chair, pulling the report towards him as he sat down.� Putting his glasses back on, he read through
the account, his fingers moving slowly down the pages as he read the details
and studied the score Foreman had assigned to each element of the examination.

�So,� he said, tossing the report
to the side and placing his glasses on top of it, �do we have a zebra or a horse?�

�A horse,� Foreman admitted, stretching
tiredly.

�Damn, I knew I should have made
you make a bet on it,� said House, smirking broadly as he leaned back in his
chair.

�After four years, I�ve at least
learned not to make a wager with you,� Foreman said, shaking his head.

�Because I�m always right?�

�No, because you usually never
offer to make a bet with someone unless you�ve already rigged the outcome.�

�Yeah,� said House, �That�s
obviously what happened here.� The truth
is, I held a pillow over Cuddy�s face while she slept, just so that I could
lure you into the ER tonight and fleece you out of fifty bucks.�

�I�ll tell you one thing; I never would
have bet that a thoroughbred like Cuddy would be willing to mate with a jackass
like you,� Foreman said, shaking his head.

House pursed his lips and
shrugged.� �Hey, maybe she wants a mule,�
he suggested, raising his eyebrows high as the idea struck him.� �I hear they�re a great hybrid, an ideal
mixture of the best qualities of both animals.�

�Well, I guess anything�s possible,
if both parents actually have good
qualities, which I doubt in this case.�

Foreman paused and screwed up his
face.� �I don�t know, when I try to
picture the two of you having a kid, all I see is Cuddy with your stubble-or
you in one of her tight skirts.�� He
paused and shuddered for a moment.� �Either
way you look at it, it�s not a very appealing prospect.�

House pouted and peered at him
disapprovingly.� �Now, won�t you be
embarrassed when we ask you to be Little Eric or Erica�s godfather?� So,� he said, drumming his fingers against
the desk, �is Cameron still determined to keep her overnight for observation?�

�Smooth segue, House,� he observed,
raising his eyebrow.� �Yes, she is, and
she�s not alone.� We�ve already got a
phone call from Bob Smithers saying he and some other board members want to
make sure she�s completely recovered before she�s released.�

�Smithers is a blithering idiot.�

�Yeah, and I hear he�s especially
fond of you this morning.�

�I promised Cuddy I�d let someone important know about her condition.� Can I help it if he wants to shoot the
messenger?�

�Sometimes it�s not what you say,
but how you say it.� Or how loud you say
it.�

�The man has no appreciation for
music.�

�Anyway, they�re insisting that she
take at least a couple of days off before she comes back to work.�

�Oh, those imbeciles,� grumbled
House, propping his left leg up on the desk.�
�That means that when she does come back she�ll be working eighty hours
a week instead of her usual sixty, just to prove to them that she�s fine.� Which means twenty more hours a week hounding
me to do my job.�

�Yeah, it�s such a pain to work for
someone who actually takes pride in her work.�

�I take pride in my work,�
protested House.� �I just take more pride
in my ability to con other people into doing my work for me.��

He lowered his foot and stood up,
walking over to the end of his desk.� To
Foreman�s surprise, he seated himself on the edge and stared up again at the
lightbox.

�Has she started getting her memory
back?� he asked, squinting in concentration.

�Not much, a few bits and pieces,�
Foreman admitted, wondering if he was searching for something specific.� �She�s starting to get a little anxious about
it.�

�Did you point out to her that it�s
not been twenty-four hours yet?� he asked, getting up and switching off the
lightbox.

�Yes.�

House pulled the images from the
viewing screen and began to align them into a neat stack.� �And that there�s nothing we can do at this
point but sit and wait?�

�Yes, but surprisingly she doesn�t
seem to derive much comfort from those cold, hard facts,� Foreman observed
tartly.

�Well, that�s because she�s not a
logical, stone-hearted bastard like you,� he quipped, �who knows when to call
it a day.��

House handed the film over to him.�

�Right,� said Foreman, shaking his
head as he placed the images back into the envelope and closed the clasp.

�No, seriously,� said House,
sitting back down.� �Call it a day.� Drop those off at Medical Records and go home.� There is absolutely nothing more you can do
right now.�

�I could stay here and check in on
her every once in a while to see how she is doing,� he argued.� �That�s the least someone could be doing.�

�� From the
tone of your voice, I take it you�re implying that someone should be me?� asked
House, picking up his cane.

�� If the
horseshoe fits��

�� Go home
and get some sleep,� House said, drumming his cane against the floor.

�� Is that an
order, Boss?�

�� Nope, it�s
just an eminently logical suggestion.�
Don�t worry,� he said, putting the cane down and leaning back in his
chair, �she�s not going to be alone, I have it covered.�

�� You don�t
even know where she is right now,� Foreman protested.

�� Well,
according to the computer,� House said, moving his chair to the side as he put
his hand over the mouse and clicked on his monitor, �she�s either in room 312
or on her way there.�

He looked back up at Foreman.�

�I know that sometimes it takes
hours for them to physically move a patient from ER to the floor once they�ve
been assigned a room, but I�m going to assume that they grease the skids a
little bit for the Dean of Medicine.�

�� Okay,�
said Foreman, standing up and pushing back his chair.� �I guess I�ll see you tomorrow.�

�� See you
tomorrow,� House agreed, picking up one of the magazines and placing his
reading glasses back on his nose.

�� Foreman
shook his head again and turned to go through the door that connected House�s
office to the staff room.� Switching his
labcoat for his jacket, he retrieved his briefcase from the table and went out
the other door into the hallway.� He cast
a sidelong glance into House�s office as he passed, and saw that he was
apparently still engrossed in reading the article.

Eschewing the elevator, he pushed
open the doorway leading into the stairwell.�
It took him several minutes to reach the drop box located outside the
Medical Records Department, and several more to reach the hospital lobby.� He paused to zip up his jacket and then
stopped, suddenly spying a familiar figure pacing slowly back and forth near
the entryway.

�Wilson?�
he asked, walking up to him.

��Hey, Foreman,� Wilson
answered, sticking out his hand.� �Did
House call you in too?�

�You know about Cuddy?� asked
Foreman, obviously surprised, as he shook Wilson�s
hand.

�Well, not much, just that she�s
here and suffering from �temporary amnesia� according to House,� he admitted.

Foreman nodded, taking in the
sweatshirt, jeans and athletic shoes that Wilson
was wearing.� Like Foreman himself, Wilson
was usually a stickler for wearing a neatly pressed shirt, tie, slacks and
dress shoes while on duty.� So, he was
obviously just here to see Cuddy, not because he was doing rounds this morning.

�So, it can�t be too serious if
you�re going home,� prodded Wilson.

�No, it should be resolving itself
anytime now,� he said.� �Go on up,� he
said, pointing in the direction of the elevator.� �She�s in 312 and I�m sure she�ll be happy to
see you.�

He stopped and frowned for a
minute.� �I mean, as long as she actually
remembers who you are.�

�Is there a chance she won�t?� said
Wilson, his eyes opening in
surprise.

�Actually, yes,� admitted
Foreman.� �She didn�t remember me at all;
she kind of remembered Cameron, but the only person she seemed to really know
was House.�

�He is�unforgettable.�

�That�s one word for it.� Anyway, I guess the only way to find out is
to go up there and see for yourself,� he said, shrugging his shoulders.

�Well, I think I�ll wait for Stacy
and Mark,� said Wilson, looking
back over his shoulder.� �I spoke to her
on her cell phone a couple of minutes ago and they were almost at the exit, so
they should be here soon.�

�Mark and Stacy Warner?� asked
Foreman, looking astounded.

�Yeah.�

Foreman considered this information
for several seconds.� �Did you or House
call her?� he asked, finally.

�House asked me to give her a
call.� Cuddy apparently mentioned Stacy
by name, so he�s at least certain she remembers who she is.�

�That�s very interesting,� he
said.� �Especially given the current
situation.�

�The current situation?� Wilson
asked, uncertainly.� �Something more than
what�s going on medically with
Cuddy?�

Foreman smiled and laughed
softly.� �Sorry, Wilson,
I really can�t say anything else.�

Wilson
frowned and looked suspicious.

�Sorry,� said Foreman, again,
holding out his hands and moving to walk past the other doctor.

�Is House here?� Wilson
called out, as Foreman started through the revolving door.

�In his office!� he shouted back.

The early morning air was misty and
cool, and he pulled his collar higher on his neck as he walked out to his
car.� He opened the door and tossed his
briefcase onto the passenger seat before climbing behind the wheel.� He turned the ignition and then paused to
look back up at the hospital.� It was
easy to pick out House�s office by the light shining through the windows on the
otherwise empty floor.

Just when he thought he really
understood House, the S.O.B. somehow always managed to surprise him.� In the first place, he had honestly expected
to find him sleeping, or at least dozing, when he walked into the office.� A quick glance at the books sprawled over his
desk had been enough for Foreman to realize House, despite his proclaimed absolute
confidence in the diagnosis and prognosis, was desperately scouting out the
latest research and information on TGA.� He
had certainly never, ever, seen House spend that much time examining an MRI,
much less go back for a second look.� He
could also not recall House taking such an interest in reading a neurological
exam report. It was interesting to see the preternaturally self-confident
doctor double-checking his own conclusions.�

He drummed his fingers against the
wheel and pursed his lips thoughtfully.�
A part of him was dying to go back into the hospital and wait to see how
this whole House/Cuddy/Stacy scenario was going to enfold.� But, on the other hand, he really wanted to
get home to enjoy at least part of his one remaining day off.�

He also knew that he had already
pushed his luck as far as he dared for the moment.� House�s abrupt change of subject earlier had
made it clear that he was reaching the end of his admittedly short supply of
patience.� Once House was no longer
distracted by Cuddy�s condition, he would be sure to direct the full brunt of
his displeasure in Foreman�s direction.

The relationship between the two
doctors had always been tenuous at best, and it had taken quite a while for a temporary
truce to be declared after the initial skirmishes sparked by his return to the
hospital.� Foreman had the sneaking
suspicion that, come Monday morning, there would open warfare between them once
more.

No, the wisest thing to do would be
to go home, get some rest, and build up his strength before stepping back into
the arena with House.

He sighed, put the car in reverse,
and backed out of the space, heading home to his apartment.

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�Rise and shine, House!�

House held his hand over his eyes,
the combination of sunlight suddenly filling the room and the clattering sound
of the plastic vertical blinds being pulled apart instantly jolting him
awake.� After a few moments, he managed
to pry his eyelids open enough to make out the outline of Wilson�s
silhouette in front of the window.

�Don�t you think 1 p.m. is a little late to be sleeping in, even
for you?� his friend asked, dropping the curtain cord and walking towards him.

�Not when I�ve been up half the
night,� retorted House.�

He had been sleeping in the yellow
reclining chair that occupied a corner of his office, his feet propped upon on
the ottoman.� He moved slowly and stiffly
for a moment, boosting himself up in the chair before moving his feet to the
floor and gingerly flexing both legs.

�Let�s also factor in the amount of
whiskey consumed,� Wilson said, picking
up the bottle that sat on the table next to the chair.� �Honestly, House,� he said, walking across
the room and depositing the bottle back into the desk drawer, �don�t you ever
worry about someone from administration catching you with this in your office?�

�Oh, my god, you�re right!� House
exclaimed, reaching over to grab his Vicodin bottle, and down one of the
pills.� �It would completely ruin their
image of me as such a clean and sober guy,� he snorted.

Wilson
just sighed and shook his head.

�What took you so long to get here?�
House asked, picking up his cane and rising to his feet.

Wilson
crossed his arms and sat on the edge of House�s desk.� �I�ve been here since a little past six o�clock,� he informed him.

�But not here,� House emphasized, pointing down at the rug with his cane to
indicate he specifically meant his office.

�No,� Wilson
conceded, shaking his head.� �I foolishly
decided to waste my time visiting with Cuddy when I could have been up here,
watching you sleep.�

�How is she?� asked House,
grimacing as he paced back and forth, slowly placing more and more weight on
his right leg as he walked.

�She seems to have made a complete
recovery.�

House paused and smiled, holding
his hands out to his side.� �Ah, the healing
powers of Dr. James Wilson,� he intoned, and then resumed his pacing.

�No, it wasn�t me at all,� said Wilson.� �But it was pretty amazing to see it happen,�
he conceded.

�Oh, I know.� Stacy let her touch her crucifix.� Guess Cuddy will be converting, huh?� Maybe if you ask her nicely, she�ll give you
a deal on her collection of menorahs and Stars of David.�

�No, that�s not exactly what
happened.� Do you want to hear the story
or not?�

�Oh, absolutely,� House assured
him, �I�m all ears.�

�Well, let�s see.� To begin with, Cuddy clearly remembered both
me and Stacy.� But we had to introduce
her to Mark, because she had absolutely no idea who he was.�

�Lucky girl, wish I could say the
same.� Then what did you do?�

�We just sat around and chatted for
awhile, talking about different things and trying to jog her memory.�

�So how much of your history did
she remember?� he asked, walking over to his desk and lowering himself into the
chair.

�Well, she certainly seemed to
remember me pretty well,� he said, moving to sit in the chair opposite him.� �But she asked how Bonnie was doing.�

House grinned mischievously.� �At which point you had to confess that she
was now the second ex-Mrs. James Wilson, and that Julie had been wife number
three.�

�Yes.�

�Did you mention that there�s an
�Amber alert� out for wife number four?�

�No.�

House continued smiling as he
leaned over and picked up the large red and white tennis ball that he kept at
his desk.

�Did my name come up in the
conversation?� he asked, much too casually, his eyes trained on the ball as he
began tossing it up in the air.

�Several times,� Wilson
admitted.� �Cuddy came right out and
asked what had happened to your leg, and why you and Stacy had split up.�

House caught the ball in his hand
and turned to look at Wilson.� �Wow,� he said, in exaggerated amazement,
�the way you said that, you almost made it sound like two different things.�

�I believe they are separate, but
related events,� corrected Wilson.

�Meanwhile, good old Mark sat there
quietly supporting his beautiful wife, just like the dutiful,
salt-of-the-earth, absolutely boring husband he is,� mocked House.

He frowned down at the ball in his
hand for a moment.� �Do you think he�s
cheating on her, now that he�s regained full use of his lower body?� he asked,
throwing the ball back up into the air.

�No,� said Wilson,
shaking his head.

House narrowed his eyes.� �Think she�s balling-�

�No!�

House caught the ball and placed it
back upon his desk.� �It�s so comforting
that you, of all people, are so ready to vouch for a married couple�s fidelity
to one another.�

�Thank you,� Wilson
said, sounding annoyed.� �It�s so
comforting to know that you are still a jerk who wants to cause trouble with
their marriage even though you�re the one who pushed Stacy back into his arms.�

�At least I�m consistently
inconsistent,� House retorted.�

�But one thing we did not talk
about at all was Mark�s illness, or the fact that Stacy had brought him to you
for a diagnosis,� continued Wilson.� �Then, all of a sudden, Cuddy just turned to
Mark and said how happy she was that he�s out of the wheelchair.�

House leaned back in his chair,
looking exasperated.

�I�ve known her since college and she
doesn�t recall anything about my infarction, or the surgery, or the gunshot
wounds and the failed Ketamine treatment, but she suddenly looks at this moron she
hardly knows and remembers that he couldn�t
walk?�

�I didn�t know this was a
competition to see whose illness she remembered first,� Wilson
said.� He paused, and a strange gleam
came into his eye.� �Or was it, House?�

House threw him an annoyed
look.� �Stop being an over-analytical
pain in the ass and continue with the story.�

�Anyway,� Wilson
continued, �she said it was literally like turning on a light switch.� Suddenly, the memories that were missing in
action a few seconds before were right back where they had always been.�

�Hallelujah,� taunted House.� ��Not only is the lame man walking, but he�s
managed to raise Cuddy�s memory from the dead.�
Maybe Stacy should throw Jesus away and wear a little figurine of �St.
Mark� around her neck.�

�I�ll mention it to her the next
time I see her,� promised Wilson.

�So, why didn�t everybody go home
then?� asked House, propping his chin in his hand.

�Because the people in upper
management want her to stay overnight and, strangely enough, the rest of us
didn�t feel like abandoning there in her room, like someone else I know.�

�Hey, don�t be too hard on
him.� I told Foreman to go home.�

�Actually, Cuddy was even more anxious
to talk after that, to make sure that she really was remembering things
correctly.�

Wilson sat back in his chair and
folded his hands in his lap.� �Of course,
the thing that none of us could figure out was why you weren�t in there too,
crashing the party.�

�Well, that would have been an
awkward situation, don�t you think?� asked House, opening his eyes widely and clucking
his tongue.

�Yes, and you, unlike normal
people, thrive on socially awkward situations.�

�I was here the whole time,� House
insisted.

�Yeah, I guess you were.� Or else you�re a hell of a lot better at
hiding than you used to be.� We took
turns going out in the hallway and looking around to see if we could catch you
spying on us.� Maybe you�ve invested in a
better disguise, but none of us spotted you in the usual places; peering out
from behind the pillars or peeking around the corners.� Stacy even looked under the bed.� Cuddy finally insisted that she was really
doing much better, and that we should be going.�

�So, they�re gone,� said House,
sitting forward and rolling his cane between his hands.

�Yes, they have tickets for a
concert this afternoon, so they reluctantly left.�

�You�re on your way out too?�

�Not really,� he answered.� �I told Cuddy I�d go out and bring her back
some lunch.�

�Are you insinuating that the
cafeteria cuisine is less than edible?�

�Yes,� said Wilson,
nodding his head, �especially on Sunday when they serve weird combinations of
all their leftovers.� I�m going to go
pick up some food from �Thai Express�.� Should
I pick something up for you?�

�Nope,� said House, reaching back
to pick up his blazer from the shelf.�

�Since when do you turn down the
chance to make me pay for your food?� asked Wilson.� �Are you going to go check on her while I run
out and pick up lunch?�

�Nope,� he repeated, pulling on the
jacket and digging Cuddy�s set of car keys out of the pocket.� �I�m going to pick her car up from the
Emergency Room lot and you�re going to meet me with your car at her regular
parking space.� You can give her the keys
when you deliver lunch.� That way she can
drive herself home tomorrow when she finally breaks out of here.� Meanwhile, you can drop me off at my place
before you go pick up the food.�

�Your place?� said Wilson,
sitting back in his chair and wrinkling his forehead.� �Well, that�s kind of strange.�

�Yeah, I do live in a kind of strange
place.� But, what the hell, it�s home,� said
House, putting on his cap.� �Let�s go.�

Picking up his cane he walked over
to the office door.� Pushing it open, he
glanced back over his shoulder and saw that Wilson
had made no attempt to rise from his chair.�
Leaning against the door handle, he paused and directed his eyes upward towards
the ceiling for a few moments before suddenly turning around and making his way
back to the desk.

�All right,� he said, resignedly, placing
his cane across the desk.� �I�ll play.�

He sat down in his chair, propped
himself up with his elbows on the desk and folded his hands.

�Gee, Dr. Wilson,� he said, in a
chirpy, prepubescent tone, �What do you mean, �that�s strange�?� he asked.� �That is my line, right?� he added, in his
normal register.

Wilson
smiled and crossed his arms over his chest.�
�Do you know what Cuddy told us about last night?� he asked.

�No,� said House, looking only
vaguely interested.� �But, I�ll bet
you�re going to tell me.�

�She said,� replied Wilson,
leaning across the desk towards him, �that she woke up in the middle of the
night, realized something was wrong and called you.� You came over to her house, examined her and
then took her into the ER when you realized it was something serious.�

�Are you saying I wouldn�t be the
logical person for her to call?� he asked, sitting back in his chair and looking
puzzled.

�No, that makes sense,� said Wilson.� �What doesn�t make sense was how she called you.� You just told me she doesn�t remember
anything about your life since before your leg was injured.� How on earth did she know your new phone
number?�

�Because she looked at her cell
phone and saw my name and hit the speed dial,� he said.� �Not exactly a big mystery, but I�m sure glad
I could clear that up for you.� Now, can
we go?� he asked, starting to push himself out of the chair.

�Do you want to know what else I
thought was odd?� asked Wilson.

�Not really,� House said, settling
back down into the chair.� �But I have
the feeling you�re going to force me to listen to you anyway.�

�Because the three of us were
there, I had to move the pile of Cuddy�s clothes off a chair in order to find a
place to sit.� Funny thing was, it looked
like Cuddy had worn sandals in to the ER.�

�You�ve never seen Cuddy wear
sandals before?�

�Who puts sandals on their feet to
go into the ER at three o�clock in
the morning, particularly on a very chilly night like last night?�

�Did you notice that they were
stylish sandals?� House argued, taking off his cap and tossing it down beside
his cane.� �If Cuddy chose practicality
over fashion, would she wear those skirts that cut off her circulation?�

�Oh, of course,� said Wilson,
holding up his hands.� �That makes much
more sense then my theory that maybe she was wearing those sandals because she
actually left her house sometime yesterday afternoon-when it was unseasonably
warm, remember?� Good thing you�re here
to help me think this out logically.�
Know what else was in that pile of clothes?�

House leaned down over the
desk.� �Frilly underwear?� he whispered.� �Or was she �going commando�?�

�I believe that there was underwear
in the stack, and I�m absolutely sure that you could describe it to me in
detail.� But, the really strange thing
was, your leather jacket was there, mixed in with her clothes.�

House frowned.� �You�re the one who just said it was cold
this morning.�

�Yes, but why would Cuddy need to
borrow your jacket if she was leaving from her own place?� Wouldn�t she have a closetful of her own
coats to choose from?�

�Yeah, but since she was going with
the leather sandals, she asked if she could wear the jacket, too.� You know, going for a kind of matching
ensemble thing.�

Wilson
smacked his palm against his forehead.�
�Of course, it�s crystal clear to me now!� And here I was thinking that maybe Cuddy had
borrowed it because she was at your place in the middle of night when this all
happened.�

House reared back in his chair, his
mouth opening wide as he gasped.� �Wilson!�
he said, shaking his head.� �Whatever
would Cuddy be doing at my apartment in the middle of the night?�

�Only one thing I can think of,� he
answered, calmly.

House clucked his tongue.� �That�s because you have a dirty mind, Wilson,�
he informed him, gravely.

�How�s your mind, House?� he
asked.� �Have you suffered a loss of memory lately?�

�Well, I�m certainly going to try
and forget this particular conversation as soon as possible,� he informed him.

�You just asked me to drop you off
at your apartment.� Wouldn�t your car be
over at Cuddy�s house if she was telling the truth?�

�Maybe I took a taxi over there.�

�Right,� said Wilson,
doubtfully.� �You respond to a cry for
help in the middle of the night by calling a taxi and spending money on a cab
ride rather than taking your motorcycle or your car over there immediately.�

They stared at each other in
silence for several seconds before House leaned back in his chair, lacing his
fingers behind his head.

�Don�t look so smug,� he admonished
him, shaking his head.� �You have not
just demonstrated brilliant powers of deductive reasoning, Cuddy just told a really
stupid lie.� Besides,� he added,
narrowing his eyes, �you, of all people, should know exactly what�s going on,�
he said, putting his hands down and reaching over to pull open the middle
drawer of his desk.

�Read �em and weep!� he said,
tossing a manila folder over to Wilson�s
side of the desk.

Wilson
threw him a suspicious look and then opened up the folder.� He glanced at the top page for a moment
before looking back at House.

�Just when I think your ego
couldn�t possibly get any larger,� he murmured, shaking his head.� �You keep a copy of your semen analysis in the
desk?� Why don�t you just have it laminated
and framed?� he suggested.

House smiled and shrugged his
shoulders, resting his arms on the side of the chair.� He pushed the seat back and stretched out his
legs underneath the desk.

Wilson
scanned the page and then moved it to the side.�
He bent down to look at the next page and then blinked in surprise, his
mouth gaping open in astonishment as he picked the paper up in his fingers and
brought it up close to his nose.

�You also keep a copy of my semen analysis in your desk,� he
said, his voice a strangled whisper as he slowly lowered the page back down to
the desk.� �Ok, House, you have now
definitely crossed the line into creepy territory.�

He glanced through the second
report again.� �How in the world-�

�Dr Keel�s not too careful about
locking up his charts,� House explained.�
�It was in the back of Cuddy�s file, from when she was considering using
you instead of me,� he explained.� �I
took the liberty of making a copy.� Or
two,� he added, in a low breath.

�You have more of these?� screeched
Wilson, looking horrified.

�Is it any wonder why she went with
me instead of you?� Just look at those
numbers.�

�I�m sure this is a very scientific
exercise, but wouldn�t it be easier to just get out a ruler and measure?� Wilson
scoffed.

�We have spent way too much time
standing next to each other at the urinals for that even to be an issue,�
mocked House in return.

Reluctantly, Wilson
picked up both sheets and glanced between the two reports.

�My sperm count is twenty-seven
million per ml and yours is forty-five million.�
That means we�re both well above the normal range of more than twenty
million per ml,� protested Wilson.

�Yeah, that�s like saying a pair of
aces is the same as a pair of tens just because they�re both better than a pair
of deuces,� House sneered.

�Yes, but remember that this was
sprung on me as kind of a pop quiz,� argued Wilson.� ��Knowing you, I�ll bet you �boned up� for
this exam.� Or rather,� he said,
correcting himself, �you didn�t do any boning for several days before you collected
the specimen, just to ensure you�d achieve the maximum recovery of sperm.�

�It might have helped a little
bit,� House admitted, grudgingly, �but still-�

�Fine, I concede the point.� When it comes to numbers, your sperm can beat
up my sperm with half their tails tied behind their heads.�

Putting the sheets back down on the
desk, Wilson bent over them to
continue reading.

�Our motility is exactly the same,�
he said, shrugging his shoulders.

�Does that surprise you?� asked
House.

�No, but doesn�t it bother you at
all that your sperm are more mobile than you are?� he shot back.� �Hmm,� he added, looking back down at the
report, �I wonder if they saw any of them using little canes to get around?�

�Notice the volume?�

�Yes,� said Wilson,
�Five mls for you and only four and a half for me.� But, I edged ahead of you in both
liquefaction time and fructose concentration.�

�Ah, I always knew you were sweeter
and softer than me,� House jeered.

��Of course,� said Wilson,
stacking the papers back into a pile, �the real surprise is that they reported
�normal morphology� for you.� I would
have expected your sample to show a preponderance of �giant-headed spermatozoa�.�

�Sour grapes, Wilson.�

�Obviously,� he replied, putting
the papers back into the folder and tossing it back towards House.� �I and all other lesser males can only bow
our heads in awe when in the presence of your prodigious procreative potency.�
��
�� House
picked up the folder and pulled out another piece of paper.� �You�re just jealous because you never even
made it to the postcoital test,� he said, waving the report in the air.

��No, I didn�t,� admitted Wilson.� �I was both flattered and honored when Cuddy
asked me if I would consider helping her have a child.� But, it only went as far as that initial
sperm test.� In the end, I just couldn�t
go through with it.�

�Oh, sure you could,� said House,
putting the page back into the folder.�
�Just close your eyes and think of England.� Or Charlize Theron.� Whichever helps you more.�

�If I had pursued this with her, it would have been through
artificial insemination.�

�Just another reason why I won the
gig.�

�Cuddy didn�t even ask you until I
had told her that I had definitely decided against it,� Wilson
said, sounding exasperated.�

�Because you chickened out,�
scoffed House.

�Yes, I did,� he admitted.� �It was one of the most difficult decisions I
have ever had to make.� It was very hard
for me to turn her down, because I knew how much this meant to her.� But, I finally had to face the fact that there
was just no way I could stand by and pretend to remain emotionally uninvolved
at the sight of Cuddy carrying and raising my own child..�

�And that won�t be a problem with
me?�

�Absolutely not,� he replied.

House cocked his head to the
side.� �I�m surprised to hear you admit
that.�

�Why not?� Wilson
asked, sitting back in his chair.� �You
spend most of your life pretending to
be emotionally uninvolved.� Which is why
you were up here, hiding in your office today.�

�I wasn�t hiding, I was sleeping,� House
insisted.

�Yes, well, you finally drank
enough liquor to pass out for awhile,� he said.�
�If you really wanted to sleep, House, you would have gone home.� But, there was no way,� he said, leaning over
and pointing his finger in House�s face, �that you were going to leave here
until you were sure that she was okay.� But,
you sure as hell didn�t want anyone to know how concerned you were.� Luckily enough, you knew that I was coming in
and that I would come up here and let you know the moment she recovered or if
she got any worse.�

�Of course I�m concerned,� said
House.� �If something happens to her, I
might end up with a boss that actually expected me to show up to work.� Or someone who wouldn�t be offering those
neat fringe benefits I�ve been getting lately.��
He paused and grimaced.� �Or I
might end up with a guy who demands those
extra fringe benefits.�

Wilson
fell back into his chair and laughed softly.�
�Oh, come off it, House,� he said, shaking his head.� �In the past few years, all it has taken is
the slightest hint that Cuddy and I might be interested in becoming more than
friends to make you run around like a maniac trying to break us up.� Cuddy also confided to me that when she was
on a blind date about a year ago, you were practically stalking her the entire
night.�

�Which just proves I don�t want to
see her wasting her time on losers, not that I want to be involved with her,� he protested.

Wilson
sighed and closed his eyes.� �House,� he
said, opening his eyes and leaning towards him, �if you would put half the
energy you expend on keeping other guys from having a relationship with Cuddy
into actually having a relationship
with Cuddy, I think we would all be a lot happier.�

�� Well,
that�s what I live for, to make people happy,� House sniffled, raising a hand
to his brow.

�� I�m
obviously wasting my breath here,� he said, shaking his head.

�� It�s never
stopped you before,� said House.�
�Besides,� he said, getting to his feet, �I just love getting
relationship advice from the guy with three exes to his credit.�

�� Speaking
of exes,� said Wilson, looking up
at him.� �I also have two messages from
Stacy for you.�

�� House
studied his face for a moment.� �And was
Mark in the room when she gave them to you?� he asked, his voice keen with
interest.

�� No, it was
his turn to be out in the hallway looking for you,� said Wilson,
rising from his chair.� �She also waited
until Cuddy was in the bathroom.� She
said-�

�� He paused
and screwed up his face in concentration.

�� Tell Greg
that I guess someone else has developed a taste for Vindaloo curry,� he said,
slowly, trying to be sure he was remembering the words correctly.

�� House
smiled and reached down for his cap.�
�Just one of those special little �code words� between ex-lovers,� he
assured him, as he placed the hat on his head.�
�What was the second message?�

�� She said,
and I quote:� �Also tell him that if he
keeps acting like a jerk towards Lisa that I�m going to come back here and kick
his balls off�.�

House blinked several times before
replying.

�Think that means she�s looking for
an excuse to come and see me?� he asked, walking around the desk and heading
towards the door.

�No, but I think I�d invest in a
pair of iron-clad boxers if I were you,� Wilson
said, following him into the hallway.�
�After all, it would be a tragedy if those �family jewels�-or should I
say �national treasures�-were damaged.�

�� *��
*�� *�� *��
*�� *�� *��
*�� *�� *��
*�� *�� *��
*�� *�� *

�� Cuddy
sighed and flipped through the pages of the thick report that she was holding,
counting how many pages were left to read.�
She was sorely tempted to just sign her name on the final page, but she
knew she was going to have to get through the details of the new medical school
curriculum sooner or later.� Raising her
left hand to her face, she closed her eyes and pushed her glasses up, tiredly
pinching the bridge of her nose.� She
opened her eyes and stared back down at the page for a moment before tossing
the report aside.

�� The tray
table that was pulled over the bed was filled with paperwork.� A small pile of completed work was on the
left side of the tray, and a large stack of unread reports loomed ominously on
the other side.� With a shake of her
head, she put the report she had been reading on the bottom of the right-hand
stack and began looking for a smaller report to work on in its place.

�� A tap at
the door interrupted her search.� She
raised her head and saw that House was striding into the hospital room, a
plastic shopping bag dangling from his wrist.

�� I knew you
wouldn�t be resting,� he said, raising his cane to point accusingly at the
tray.� �Why didn�t you just ask them to
wheel your bed down to your office?��

�� Because
then you would demand that we put a bed in your
office, too,� she replied, taking off her glasses and setting them down on the
tray.� �And we both know you spend enough
time sleeping there as it is,� she said, smiling up at him.

�� She was
wearing a fresh hospital gown, and her hair was no longer pulled back into a
ponytail.� Judging from its scent and
sheen, she had found time to take a shower before settling down to work.

�� He studied
her for a moment, wrinkling his nose.

�� Something
wrong?� she asked.

�� Well, the
color�s slightly better than the last one you had on,� he said, gesturing at
her gown.� �But, it�s still not you,� he declared, throwing the bag down
onto the tray.

�� She
cautiously loosened the strings and peered into the bag.� After a moment, she laughed and reached in to
pull out a pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt.

�� Gee,� she
said, �this looks just like the clothes I had in the bottom drawer of my
desk.� Gosh, I could swear I told Wilson
to lock my office door again after he brought me this stuff,� she said,
gesturing at the paperwork.

�Oh, he did,� House assured her,
motioning for her to lift her arms off of the tray.� He pushed the table to the side and sat down
on the edge of her bed.� �The drawer was
locked, too.� Boy, you�re really getting
paranoid these days.�

�Yeah, almost like I�m afraid some
deranged employee is out to prove that he can break into my private property
anytime he likes, no matter how often I change the locks.�

�Oh, I wouldn�t say that too loud,�
he warned her.� �Someone might overhear
you and get the idea that I�ve been in your drawers lately,� he whispered.

�Yeah, let�s nip that rumor in the
bud,� she agreed.� �Thanks,� she said,
tossing the clothes onto the bedside table, �I really didn�t want to spend a
third day in those,� she said, nodding towards the clothes piled on one of the chairs.

�Oh, and don�t forget these,� said
House, digging down into the pocket of his blazer.�

He tossed two small pieces of
leopard-patterned fabric into her lap.

�What is this?� she asked, picking
them up and regarding them dubiously.

�It�s
underwear,� he informed her.�

�No, House,� she said, tossing them
back to him.� �There is not nearly enough
fabric there to count as underwear.� I�d
get more coverage out of a cork and a pair of Vicodin strung together.�

�I can arrange that,� he assured
her.� �Oh, all right,� he said, putting
them back into his pocket.� �We�ll save
these for one of our �special theme nights�.�

�Tarzan and
Jane?�

�No, Sheena and
Rick Thorne.� That�s a slightly
less well-known pair, but I admit you�re more �Queen of the Jungle� than I am
�Lord of the Apes.�

�Not necessarily,� she said,
shaking her head.

�Wait until you see what I have in
my other pocket,� he said, reaching down to retrieve something.� �I even put in a fresh battery.�

�Do we have to pull the shades?�
she asked, and then began to laugh as he showed her that it was only his
penlight.

She held still as he bent over and
examined her pupils.

Flicking off the light, he leaned over
and gently knocked his fingers against her forehead.� �Doesn�t sound as empty as it did this
morning,� he commented, sitting back and putting the light back into his
pocket.

�It seems to have gotten refilled,�
she said, pulling up the covers slightly as she sat back.

�All memories returned?� he asked,
sitting back further onto the bed as he placed his cane on top of the blanket.

�Everything except for the twelve
hours or so before it happened,� she replied.�
�Which I guess is pretty typical for these attacks?�

�Yep,� he said, nodding his
head.� �Since you had a power outage, so
to speak, those files were lost somewhere between the short- and long-term
memory storage systems.� Poof.�

�� That�s a
shame,� she said, shaking her head.� �All
I can recall about yesterday is getting dressed to come over to your
place.� Judging by how much better it�s
been getting over the past four months, yesterday must have been pretty
fantastic.�

�It was,� House assured her.� �Now, if you�d only let me videotape us like
I keep asking you, you�d be able to see for yourself.�

�You really are a much better lover
than you used to be, House,� she said, grinning as she raised her hands up
behind her head.�

�Thanks, I think,� he said,
narrowing his eyes.� �I guess I�ve
improved with age, like wine.�

�Well, the Cialis might be helping
just a bit too,� she teased.� �Though I
think the real problem with our one-night stand years ago was too much wine,
for both of us.�

�For both of us?� You�re the one who threw up right
afterwards.�

�Yeah, but you�re the one who
passed out and hit his head on the toilet.�

�At least I made it to the toilet,�
he said.� �I guess yesterday was a slight
improvement over that,� he admitted.

She lowered her hands and tilted
her head to the side.� �Three times,
House?� she whispered.

�� All
right,� he said, shrugging his shoulders, �it was only twice.� But we were headed for three until you
decided to kick me,� he argued.

�� I�m
sorry,� she said, raising her hand up to brush a strand of hair away from her
temple.

�� Sure,� he
replied, nodding his head.� �It was just
an accident,� he said, skeptically, raising his fingers to indicate quotation
marks.

�� No, I mean
it, House,� she said, dropping her gaze to study the sheet for a moment.� �I�m really sorry for all this,� she added, looking back up at
him.

�� This?� he
asked gesturing around the room.� �Yeah,
I�m really pissed at you for having an unexpected and completely involuntary
interruption of the blood flow to your brain like that.� It was very careless of you.� Try and have a little more self-control next
time,� he urged, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth as he teased her.

�� She leaned
forward, cupping her chin in her hand.� �How
difficult is Foreman going to be?�

�I believe his exact words were
that he is looking forward to �making me squirm�,� he replied.

Cuddy groaned and closed her
eyes.� �Maybe I�ll just take the next
month off,� she moaned, leaning back against the pillows again.� �Or wait until a cease fire has been
announced.�

�I think it�s more likely than one
of us will kill the other,� House assured her.�
�But,� he added, �he will respect your confidentiality.� As much as he is going to be needling me and
possibly you, he won�t be blabbing to anyone about it.�

Cuddy nodded in agreement.

�Cameron and Wilson, likewise, will
not be announcing this on the PA system.�
On the other hand, be prepared for them to be brimming over with helpful
advice.�

�Yeah,� she said, �I�m sure they
will be.�

�Are you going to take the advice
she gave you earlier?�

She looked at him blankly.

�About repeating the HCG in a
couple of days,� he clarified.

She frowned and shook her
head.� �No,� she said quietly.� �I�ve been disappointed too many times
already.� If I saw the level rising, I�d
get my hopes up, even though it wouldn�t be definite.� I also don�t want to find out I am pregnant and then miscarry early
again, like last time,� she admitted.�
�It�ll be easier just to pretend it�s a late period.�

�When would you do a pregnancy
test?� he asked.

�Not until I�m at least a week
late.�

She paused and looked down at her
fingernails.

�She didn�t come out and say it,
but I�m pretty sure Stacy has also figured out there�s something going on
between us,� she murmured.

�Yeah, I have two good reasons to
believe that,� House said.

She looked at him quizzically.

�She said something to Wilson,�
he explained.

�Oh.�

She chewed on her lip for a moment.

�But, this hasn�t completely messed
things up, has it?� she asked, anxiously.�
�I mean, it did seem to be a real shock
to everyone.� So I would say that our
behavior over the past four months hasn�t made anyone suspicious, right?�

�Apparently not,� he replied.

�I do think that, once I get back
to work, we should be extra discreet though, don�t you?�

�Sure,� he said, nodding his head
in agreement.

�Good,� she said, taking in a deep breath
and smiling.� �So, we�re on for next
month?�

�Absolutely.� If your cycle stays consistent,� he said,
wrinkling his forehead as he calculated, �you�re due to ovulate again four
weeks from tomorrow?�

She nodded her head

�I�ll put it on my calendar.� But, don�t worry, I�ll be discreet,� he
assured her.� �I�ll just write �Spawn with
Cuddy� in big red letters across the date.�

She rolled her eyes as he got up
off the bed.

�Unless, of course,� he said,
leaning over to pick up his cane, �it actually took this time, and you�re no
longer in need of my services.�

She hesitated for just a
moment.� �Of course,� she said, raising
her eyebrows and smiling again.� �That
would be great, wouldn�t it?�

�Here,� he said, transferring his
cane to his left hand and digging in his shirt pocket for something.� �Almost forgot to give you this,� he said,
handing over her cell phone.

�Thanks,� she said, reaching out to
take it.� �Is it safe for me to have it
now?� she teased.

�Yeah, those bigwigs have told
everyone to leave you alone for a few days, so you can recover,� he said.� �By the way, I programmed in a few new
numbers for you, you might want to check them out.�

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously
and then flipped the phone open and searched her directory.� She took one look, groaned loudly, and glared
up at him

�Oh, great, just the numbers I
wanted at the top of my list:� Hot Girlz, Sexy Babes, and Wet Chicks,�
she read aloud, shaking her head.� �You
know, House, this telephone is actually hospital property,� she said.� �They periodically check to see what numbers
are dialed.�

�Yeah, right, they�re supposed to
be monitoring the internet use also.�
Never stopped me from downloading porn,� he announced, proudly.

�Believe me, I know,� she said,
snapping the phone closed and tossing it over on top of the clothes he had
brought to her.

He had gone over to the stack of
her other clothes and was digging his leather jacket out from under the pile.

�Thanks for letting me borrow
that,� she said, as he stood up.

�No problem,� he said, folding it
over his arm.

�I guess I�ll see you on
Wednesday,� she said.� �They want me to
take tomorrow and Tuesday off.�

�So I heard,� he said, turning
towards the door.

�You want to push that table back?�
she asked, pulling the covers up around her again and pointing towards the tray
table.

�Nope,� he said, shaking his head
and walking back towards the bed.� �It�s
been a long day and you look exhausted,� he said, looking down at her.� �The work will wait until tomorrow, �Superdean�.� Get some sleep,� he ordered.

He put out his hand and for just a
moment she thought he was going to caress her cheek.� Instead, she felt the smooth leather of the
jacket brush against her face as he bent over to switch off the light that was
mounted above the bed.

�Good night, Cuddy,� he said, and
turned towards the door.

�Good night, House,� she whispered.

He limped to the door and turned
off the other light switch.� He walked
out into the hallway and there was a soft swooshing sound as the door closed
automatically behind him.� She remained
sitting up in bed, watching as he walked slowly but steadily down the hall, not
once pausing or turning back to look at her.�
She waited until he had disappeared around the corner before she pulled
the covers up around her neck and turned over to lie down.

She lay quietly for a few moments
and then sat up again and began trying to punch and pound the pillows into a
more comfortable position.

�You just told the man to be
discreet,� she murmured out loud. �Did you really expect him to kiss you
goodbye?� she harrumphed, as she lay down again.

�No,�
said a quiet voice inside her head, �But
you sure hoped that he would.�
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Torch Songs for Two