Gentle Knock - Chapter 41 by zeppomarx (house fanfiction)

Title: A Gentle Knock at the Door, Chapter 41
Author: zeppomarx
Characters: House, Wilson, Cuddy, Chase and Foreman, and new folks.
Warnings and So On: NC-17 for concepts. H/W friendship (perhaps slash if you wear those kind of goggles)
Summary: Short version: House is a physical and emotional mess, having been wrongly imprisoned and tortured and all sorts of nasty stuff. It's about what happens next, and how House deals with it. A sequel to Priority's Exigencies, which is a sequel to DIY Sheep's The Contract, which has spawned an incredible number of offshoots.
Timeline: Set nearly a year after the beginning of Exigencies.
Earlier chapters: Go here for the beginning of the story. I'm working on the index thing.
Comments: Be gentle. Flamers begone. Thanks AW, GM and medical guru TD, who says the medicine is okay, but the procedure is messed up. Drama trumps procedure.
Oh, Yeah, the Disclaimer: I certainly don't own House or any of the characters therein, although it would be nice if I did. They belong to David Shore & company. It's just that the characters waltzed into my head and wouldn't leave until I told their story.

SUMMARY: Cuddy is angry. Chase has mixed feelings. Shopping is in order...

TEASER: Judgment Day...

___________________________________________

A Gentle Knock at the Door
Chapter 41

Cuddy stared at the piece of paper in her hands. Then she exhaled a perturbed breath and shook her head with annoyance.

“At 1:53 a.m., patient S. Lantz in room 315 crashed, needing immediate assistance. After nearly an hour attempting to resuscitate the patient, patient expired at 2:50 a.m. Medical personnel left the room at 3:04 a.m.

“At 2:07 a.m., patient D. Alencar in room 321 crashed, needing immediate assistance. After several attempts, the patient was resuscitated. Medical personnel left the room at 2:55 a.m.

“At 2:13 a.m., orderly Jim Padma saw patient R. Adler from room 304 standing in the doorway calling out for help because patient G. House was in pain. Every available medical personnel not already involved with the other two patients was enlisted. By 2:48 a.m., the problem, a faulty valve on the IV, had been resolved. Both patients were examined. Patient G. House had an elevated heart rate, which decreased once the IV was fixed, and nausea from pain, which also decreased once the IV was fixed. Patient R. Adler had sustained serious bruises to the left cheek in a fall, as well as a slight sprain to the right ankle. By 3:24 a.m., both patients had been treated and were resting comfortably. Medical personnel left the room at 3:32 a.m.”

Cuddy shook her head again, pursed her lips and glared at the report. What was she supposed to do, keep 24-hour watch over House’s room? She couldn’t help it if two patients on the third floor crashed at close to the same time. And yet she was furious over what had happened last night.

The logic of how it came to be didn’t stop Cuddy from worrying it like a dog with a sock. Should she have more nurses on duty? No, her budget wouldn’t allow it, and besides, this was the only time in seven years that three emergencies had occurred on the same floor at essentially the same time in the middle of the night. No statistical justification for an increase.

Should she have kept Mark St. John on as a private duty nurse in room 304? Again, no. The two patients were doing well enough that it was a waste of resources to give them a private nurse.

Face it, she thought to herself, it was a fluke. A horrible fluke. Let it go. You couldn’t have done anything to prevent it. Let it go.

But could she let it go? No, of course not.

No pain meds for a man in his condition—the thought of the excruciating anguish he must have been feeling almost stopped her breath. How bad was the pain that he was actually screaming for several minutes? And then Rainie’s intrepid journey to find help. What had she gone through to get to the door? The injuries on her body told at least some of the story. What kind of determination did it take to try to walk when your legs were so badly damaged they couldn’t possibly sustain you?

Cuddy sighed. Then she put her elbows on the desk, and leaned her head forward, pressing the heels of her hands hard against the aching bones over her eyes.

* * * *

Devi Rajghatta looked up as Chase entered the room. He’s been to see House again, she thought, almost subconsciously. He always had that faraway, unsettled look on his face when he’d seen House, as if something had him disturbed in a fundamental way.

“Hi,” she said. “Coffee?”

“Er, what? Sure. Thanks.”

“How’s Dr. House?”

“What? Oh. Better.” As the fog in his mind dispersed, he shook his head slightly and focused on her.

“You should come up and see him.”

“Do you think he’s up to it?”

“Yeah. He’s looking way better. He’s even solved a couple of our cases.” He drifted again. “I wish I knew how his mind worked. After everything he’s been through, he can still do it.”

Devi nodded silently. When she first started working with House, she had heard so many stories, she didn’t know what to believe. He was crazy. He was devious. He was a drug addict. He was lazy. He was a genius. And then, because of what he’d been through, she heard other things, things that didn’t bear reflection.

What she actually saw when she met him was a frighteningly frail man, trying desperately to hold onto some semblance of his former life. Yes, he was certainly acerbic, and his methods at times phenomenally unconventional, but he was ultimately right so much more often than he was wrong. And he was so obviously in pain—both physical and mental—that she couldn’t reconcile the man she’d come to know with the one she’d heard about.

Now, after nearly a year, she understood why Chase and Foreman had felt so strongly about working with him again. When Evans was in charge of the department, she’d never experienced anything like the rush of excitement she felt with House as he began to unravel the mystery… and as he forced her to expand her own abilities to try to solve it herself. She now knew why a fellowship with House had once been considered such a prize.

She also knew that he’d once been very different, but she hadn’t known that man. It’s as if some elements of the equation had been removed by the time she came along.

Chase was blowing on his coffee as he stared out the window.

“May I ask you something?”

He turned his head in her direction.

“Sure. Shoot.”

“If it’s none of my business, tell me.”

He looked at her a little more sharply now, turning his body toward her.

“Do you find it a little uncomfortable talking to him? I mean, even after he’s been back at work all this time?” She wasn’t sure if she’d phrased it the way she really meant it, but it would have to do.

He came over and sat down across from her, gripping the handle of the coffee mug as he spoke.

“I’m not sure uncomfortable is the right word, Devi.”

She waited, pretty sure he’d go on. He did.

“I don’t know how to explain it, really, but I always had mixed feelings about House. Working with him was a chance of a lifetime for me, but then he could be such a manipulative, lying bastard. I admired his genius, but—god!—sometimes I just wanted to wring his neck. Every so often, I guess, I’d realize that his insane personality was a pose, a defense. But mostly I just tried to steer clear and do my job.”

“And now?”

He looked over at her and shrugged.

“Now, well… What do you do when you find out the infuriating, manipulative, selfish bastard has, dear god, done what this man’s done? That he quite lit’rally saved my life. That to do it, he’s allowed himself to get turned into… this?

Devi squirmed slightly at the thought of “…this.” This was obviously the man she’d come to know, the man she’d actually come to care about. She sort of liked the man she knew, and she wasn’t so sure she’d have liked the other one.

“So, knowing what he was like before, do you find it hard to talk to him?” she asked, getting to her real question.

Chase looked away for a moment before answering.

“Hell, yeah,” he said, finally. “I have to behave as if everything’s as it was, that I don’t really like him a whole lot, that he’s a pain in the ass… when what I want to do is hug him until we both start to cry, and then fall down on the floor and thank him… thank him for what he was willing to do for me. Of course, he’d be mortified and never allow that… so I do what I do. Pretend along with him that things are like they were.

“You can’t imagine how it feels to know that someone has willingly gone through what he’s gone through to save your life… and then to have to face the results of it every day. I see the marks on his body, and I know they are there because of me. It’s probably the most intense emotion I’ve ever felt… and yet I have to treat him casually and professionally. God damn!—it’s hard. Every time I talk to him, it’s so incredibly hard to keep things on that level. Give the guy some dignity.

“Foreman says the same thing. He told me it just about kills him to have to call House an ass now. Yeah, he might have behaved like an ass—and believe me, he really behaved like an ass—but clearly there was someone very different underneath it all. I still can’t get my head around it.

“The whole thing shook up my world,” he went on. “He got so strange toward the end, and then Cameron…” he let the thought hang in the air. “When he came back, it was so unbelievably awful to see him like this. As much as he’d annoyed me before, I’d give anything to have that guy back again. And yet, in some ways, I like how he is now better.”

He looked up at her.

“Does that answer your question?”

* * * *

Shopping was in order. One afternoon, two days later and another two days before House and Rainie were due to testify at the first trial, Cuddy and Wilson showed up in room 304 weighted down by bags and boxes. As they came into the room, they found House dozing and Rainie staring at the television.

“Christmas?” asked Rainie tentatively, not really sure of the month or the date.

“Close enough,” replied Cuddy, bringing her parcels over to Rainie’s side of the bed.

Wilson headed toward House, who was beginning to stir.

Lifting his left eyebrow quizzically, House eyed the packages with suspicion.

“Shall I start?” asked Cuddy of Wilson.

“Be my guest,” he volunteered.

Rainie, clearly intrigued, tried to peek into the bags at her side.

“No fair,” said Cuddy.

“What’s this about?” asked House.

“You’ll find out,” answered Wilson, deferring to Cuddy.

“We know you haven’t given much thought to clothes for a long while, and, well, you’re going to have to go to court, so…”

With a flourish, she reached into one of the bags and pulled out a dark blue dress cut along conservative lines.

“I had to guess at the size and I have no idea what styles you like, so if you hate all of these, just let me know and I’ll return them for something you prefer,” she said. “My gift to you.”

Rainie’s expression said it all. She’d purposely avoided looking at herself in the mirror, afraid of what she’d find looking back at her. But back before, she had loved buying clothes, and was known around The Times for her eccentric and artistic flair. The blue dress wasn’t what she might have picked out for herself, but she was moved by the gesture.

“And I gather those are blue dresses for me?” House said to Wilson.

“But of course,” said Wilson, lifting up for House’s approval a blue dress that looked remarkably like a gray jacket. Fortunately for him, he already knew House’s taste. He’d picked up an assortment of shirts, jackets, slacks and a few t-shirts. And one tie.

For the next half hour, Cuddy brought forth a collection of skirts, blouses, dresses, shoes, stockings, even jeans, as well as some very expensive lingerie. For a moment, Cuddy hesitated about showing off the underwear, but if Rainie and House were going to share a room, modesty would have to go.

Cuddy had also purchased makeup for Rainie, figuring she might want to make an attempt to cover some of the scars and now the new bruises on her face.

Of the dozen or so outfits Cuddy had purchased, only one item really appealed to Rainie, but she was enjoying the whole endeavor. Feeling surprisingly eager, almost as if it really were Christmas, she asked Cuddy’s help in getting to the bathroom to check the sizes. Wilson offered an arm, and the two of them were able to get her across the room, half-carrying her there. Once she was inside, Cuddy held her up while Wilson went back out to grab a chair for her to sit on.

She had been small to begin with, and years of near-starvation had reduced Rainie’s frame to a size zero. Cuddy had a good eye for such things, however, so the clothes fit reasonably well.

What Cuddy hadn’t counted on was her own emotional reaction to seeing Rainie’s body. She figured as a doctor and as one of the few people who had seen some of House’s injuries, she would be immune. But when she helped Rainie off with her hospital gown, she found herself riveted by the marks on the frail body. It was an effort not to break down, even more of an effort to hide her reaction from Rainie, who, it was evident, was self-conscious enough about letting anyone see her.

/>In the meantime, Wilson helped House go through his new clothes. Knowing House had no interest in such things, but recognizing that it was important for him to present himself well in court—and that he’d lost so much weight, again, his old clothes would droop—Wilson needled him until he had tried on everything except the slacks, and those only because it would be too difficult for him to get out of the bed and attempt to stand.

/>In the bathroom, Rainie reached for the item that most appealed to her, a vibrant rainbow-hued flowing skirt.

Cuddy noted how Rainie’s eyes lit up when she saw it.

“You know what?” she said, as tactfully as she could. “It’s so hard to choose clothes for another woman. I have an idea. How about if we bring you a laptop and you can go online and choose what you’d like? Would that work?”

Rainie looked up at her, appreciatively. She hadn’t wanted to admit that she didn’t care for most of the items Cuddy had picked out.

“I—I don’t know what to say. I’m so…so… grateful to you.”

“Nonsense,” said Cuddy in her best head-of-the-hospital manner. “You need clothes, and they might as well be what you like. And it gives me pleasure. There’s nothing I like more than shopping for clothes.” Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, “I just wish I could do more.”

She thought back to the moment when she’d found out Rainie Adler had been arrested for murder, and how her first thought was heartbreaking disappointment, because she’d so hoped Rainie would be able to help House. And now, after seeing the broken body and knowing how she had suffered those injuries, Cuddy felt in awe of the woman before her, the woman who had lost everything in her quest for the truth. Yes, buying Rainie new clothes was the least she could do.

Overwhelmed by her own feelings, Rainie sat quietly on the chair for a moment, the rainbow-hued skirt draped across her lap.

“Let’s get you dressed in something—give the boys a show,” said Cuddy. “And we’ll start with this great skirt. How’s that?”

Rainie nodded.

They found a simple black silk shell that accented the colors in the skirt and a loose, open-weave jacket to finish off the outfit. Cuddy helped her on with the clothes, trying to keep her sitting for most of the process. She’d have to go barefoot for now—the shoes were far too large and would have to be exchanged before the trial.

“Oh, one more thing,” said Cuddy, rooting around in the bottom of one of the bags. “Again, we’ll replace these if they don’t suit you, but I thought you should have some jewelry, too.” After opening a small box, she placed a simple pair of 24-caret gold hoop earrings and a gold chain in Rainie’s trembling hand.

This was too much, and Rainie began to cry. It had been so long since anyone had given her a gift—or, until very recently, even treated her decently—she couldn’t handle it. Her shoulders shook as she leaned on Cuddy, loud sobs pouring forth as she held onto the Dean of Medicine.

Wilson had been in the middle of a long-winded story about who was dating whom in the ER when House suddenly shushed him. He saw the concern on House’s face several seconds before he realized Rainie was crying.

“See if she’s all right,” ordered House, as he looked toward the bathroom door. “Now.”

Wilson crossed the room and knocked on the door.

“Everything okay in there?” he asked.

The sobs broke at the sound of his voice.

Through the door, he heard, “Just a little girl talk,” from Cuddy, taking charge.

Thanks, mouthed Rainie, taking deep gulping breaths to settle her emotions.

No problem, mouthed Cuddy back to her.

Wilson looked at House and shrugged his shoulders.

About half an hour later, the door reopened. Guessing that Rainie wouldn’t want to see her reflection and that her shaky hands probably wouldn’t work very well for such things anyway, Cuddy had applied her makeup. Then she brushed Rainie’s hair—which badly needed a good haircut—and slid the necklace over Rainie’s head. It gleamed against the black shell. The final touch—the gold earrings.

“Ready?” she asked.

“I-I guess so,” replied Rainie nervously.

She could tell from the way people in the hospital looked at her that she must appear pretty freakish, but inside she was still the lovely woman she had once been. She suddenly realized that she desperately wanted to be attractive to someone, even though the odds of it were pretty slim at this point. Well, at least she could look better than she had.

Cuddy surveyed her handiwork. Although the makeup had not completely hidden the scars or the bruises, a judicious use of base, blush, powder, lipstick, eye shadow and liner had made a dramatic difference, bringing out the hazel color of Rainie’s anxious eyes and emphasizing her mouth and the prettiness of the face underneath all the injuries.

/>“Ready or not, here we come,” she called out as she opened the door.

Helping Rainie to her feet, she came through the doorway first, her arm firmly around Rainie’s waist.

Wilson jumped up from his chair and went to support Rainie’s other side. Together they helped her into the room.

Suddenly self-conscious, Rainie looked down, not wanting to see disappointment on House’s face.

As they entered the room, Cuddy watched House’s reaction attentively—mostly because she didn’t want Rainie to feel let down. What she saw on his face surprised her. She saw delight.

Touching Rainie’s arm, she whispered, “Look up.”

Timidly, Rainie lifted her gaze to find herself looking at House’s face. He was smiling, and when their eyes met, he nodded his approval.

“Why, Miss Jones,” he said softly, “you’re beautiful.”

NEXT: Cross Examination.

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