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readingrat A/N: Many thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
flywoman , whose comments had a major impact on the last two chapters of this fic.
IX: Remorse
Which confirms that Cuddy never had a picture of Lucas in her office and dispels any doubts the Reader may harbour regarding House's abilities while at medical school.
"Lunch?" Wilson, prompt as a cuckoo popping out of a clock, stuck his head through the door of Cuddy's office.
"Gimme a moment." Cuddy's fingers rapped a tattoo on the keyboard.
Wilson wandered over to the couch and sat down. It took a few minutes before he noticed that something was different than usual. He picked up one of the two picture frames on the coffee table and examined it, turning it into the light from the window. "Cute." It was Cuddy, posing before a tropical tree, in her arms the torso of a monkey that now sported Rachel's head instead of its own. The second picture, now depicting a monkey-headed toddler on a swing, was clearly the source of the monkey's new head.
"Not really." Cuddy's lips were a thin line.
"Don't be such a party pooper."
"Am I supposed to be amused at House making a monkey of my daughter?"
"Think of it as a courting ritual. He's expressing interest in your daughter. He's saying that ...," Wilson faltered, then inspiration hit him, "Rachel should be in your arms, not some anonymous ape."
"I hereby express interest in an apology, but that's not likely to happen." Her fingers attacked the keyboard viciously.
"Oh, I don't know." Wilson made it sound as if he did know.
"What, he showed remorse for defacing Rachel's picture?"
"Not exactly. He only mentioned manipulating a photo featuring Lucas," Wilson admitted.
"Please, Wilson! As though I'd have a picture of Lucas!" Cuddy pushed her chair back, got up and strode over to the coffee table. She picked up the picture that now depicted her with Rachel and squinted at it. "You know, that's even more insulting - imagining that Rachel bears the slightest resemblance to Lucas Douglas!"
Wilson nobly rose to his friend's defence. "You do see the goodwill behind this mild and merciful prank, don't you?"
"You've lost me."
"Had House wished to screw you and Lucas over," Wilson elucidated, "he would have photoshopped some and then spread it via the hospital intranet - at the best. At the worst, you'd find yourselves plastered all over Facebook and YouTube, doing unmentionable things with members of the bovine species. He isn't dipping your pigtails into the inkwell; he's merely flicking them gently."
"I'm to be grateful because he isn't stalking or harassing my non-existent boyfriend and me?"
"It's his way of showing that he respects your choice."
"So he's mellowing, like a good whiskey?" Cuddy picked up the second picture and took both over to her desk, where she placed them in the drawer.
"He is mellowing. He's more aware of his faults than he used to be."
"I never doubted that House was aware of his shortcomings. Problem is," the drawer slammed shut, "he refuses to derive any consequences from that knowledge."
"He has changed, Cuddy. You might get your apology. In Mayfield Nolan persuaded him to write a letter of apology to someone he wronged."
"He wrote you a letter of apology? That's sweet." Cuddy smiled at Wilson as she shut down her computer.
"Not me, actually. He wrote it to a fellow student."
Cuddy waved her hands at Wilson. "Give me a moment to get my mind around the concept that there's a being out there somewhere whom House has wronged more than he's wronged you."
"House's idea is to start small and work his way up. He was in a seminar with this guy and he swapped their final papers to prove some theory of his."
"He's apologising for doing someone a favour?" Wilson looked at Cuddy questioningly. She explained, "House's paper couldn't have deserved less than an 'A' - the quality of his work is never an issue. It's getting him to do it at all that is the problem."
"That's .. odd." Wilson frowned at Cuddy, or rather, through her, his eyes focused on something in the distance. "House was trying to prove that the professor was deliberately downgrading him, so he swapped his paper with an 'A'-student's paper. He promptly got an 'A' on Wibberly's paper."
"So he was wrong." Cuddy picked up her purse and moved towards the door.
"Only if Wibberly got a worse grade than an 'A' on House's paper."
"And did he?"
"House doesn't know," Wilson said slowly as though thinking something through.
"If House got a straight 'A' after getting lower grades before, it seems safe to assume that Wibberly got House's 'C' or 'D'."
"First, as you say, it's unlikely that House submitted a 'C'-standard assignment. Secondly, House doesn't assume. If he had conducted this experiment to prove a point, he'd have verified the result by checking Wibberly's grade." Wilson's hand chopped the air to emphasise his point.
“So what are you saying?”
“I'm saying that House never swapped those papers because if he had, he would have gone to the trouble of finding out what grade Wibberly got on House's paper. Setting up an experiment and then not cross-checking the results is bad science, and that's one thing one can't accuse House of.”
Cuddy finally understood what Wilson was getting at. "Why would House's brain invent wrongs he never committed? If he wants to wallow in guilt, I'm sure he's stored up enough muck to fill a whole pool."
"He knows that he has to address the issues caused by his pre-Mayfield behaviour, but as long as he's busy dealing with imaginary sins, he can postpone facing the people he's really hurt."
X: Moving the Chains
A short chapter in which Wilson returns Cuddy's previous disapproval with compound interest.
Wilson, tray-less, slid into the empty seat at Cuddy's table in the cafeteria. "You were out of House's office fast this morning."
Cuddy glanced up before refocusing on her salad. "Some of us have a job to do."
"Your hasty retreat had nothing to do with guilt?" Wilson regarded her with narrowed eyes. A slight flush rose up her throat. "That look of faux innocence does not sit well on you."
Throwing up her hands in surrender, Cuddy leaned back. "Fine. I paid Lucas to prank you. Send me the bills."
"I will." There was not a tinge of amusement in Wilson's voice.
"Why are you so outraged? This is the sort of thing you and House do regularly to each other - I'm sure you suspected each other at first."
"Why did you prank us?" Wilson accused more than asked.
"You said House needs to be kept busy. So far, you've borne the brunt of keeping him occupied, so I thought I'd contribute my dime's worth. I'm sorry if you consider this as poaching on your premises. Next time I'll ask your permission first." Cuddy shook her head in exasperation as she picked up her fork again.
"If you want to do something for him, why don't you invite him over for dinner?"
"Invite a guy over who is expressing romantic sentiments for me, thinks I'm dating someone else and spells jealousy with a capital 'J'? Yes, that will keep him busy! What is your issue with - what was it - an oppossum in the bathroom and your fire alarm going off?"
"Fire sprinklers, actually. You forgot cracking open House's skull."
"What?" Cuddy's fork dropped with a clatter.
"Your boyfriend loosened the grab rail in my bathroom. House knocked his head on the bathtub," Wilson recounted unemotionally.
"He was supposed to be harassing you, not House, so House could investigate his best buddy’s plight. And he isn't my boyfriend," Cuddy added as an afterthought.
"He must have got that mixed up, because not an hour ago he tripped House up, right over there." Wilson pointed to a spot about ten yards away.
"You're kidding!" Wilson obviously wasn't doing anything of the sort. "Why would he do that?"
"Because he's an asshole?" Wilson surmised. "Cuddy, you're out of your depth here. This isn't a board room poker game, where you pit the other board members against each other and emerge the unscathed winner. They are two testosterone-laden alpha males fighting for the most desirable female. If you don't put a stop to this we'll have more damage than just a few chipped antlers."
"I'm not interested in either of them," Cuddy stated flatly.
"That's odd, because I could have sworn that your heels were lower and your necklines higher when House was in Mayfield."
Cuddy's eyes dropped.
"Cuddy, your games with House were fun while he was in his right mind and could judge your intentions and the risks involved. Now they're cruel."
"I'm not playing with House. I'm avoiding him, in case you haven't noticed."
"Now you're playing with Lucas instead," Wilson continued relentlessly. "Only, he isn't sticking to the rules, is he? House is getting hurt in the process, and I don't mean just physically."
Cuddy closed her eyes briefly. "I'll call Lucas off. Is there any way we can stop House from exacting dire revenge? Because if he does, there's no guarantee that Lucas won't retaliate regardless of what I tell him."
"House won't be a problem."
"No? What's he hallucinating now?" Cuddy's expression was a mixture of worry and dread.
"Nothing," Wilson said as though the idea were an impertinent allegation. He got up. Looking down on her he said with a hint of reproach, "He wants you to be happy, Cuddy. Even if it's with another guy."
XI: 5 to 9
Wherein Cuddy's true target in the Atlantic Net deal is revealed and the logistics of morning sex are discussed.
Wilson took his lab coat off the rack, cast a last glance around his office and switched off the light. Then he closed the door and locked it, checking it once more by pressing down the handle. Satisfied, he made for the elevator, shrugging on his coat as he went. Out in the corridor he hesitated a moment, then he headed for the stairwell, trotting down two floors rapidly. He was halfway down the next flight when he stopped suddenly - leaning against the wall next to the exit to the clinic was Cuddy. She'd heard him, though. She tipped her head so she could see him. When she recognised him, she pushed herself off the wall, hands on her hips.
"Get him off my back! I swear if you don't, I'll murder him - and I won't even bother to hide the corpse. I'll impale his head on his cane and display it in the lobby."
"Wow!" Wilson took the last few steps at a somewhat slower pace. "What did he do?"
"He's taking over my hospital. I've been dean for over thirteen years now. I can recognise a take-over bid when I see one." She didn't seem to expect any sort of a comment, let alone a refutation of her accusation. "Surgery is in a shambles - I'm sure Thomas's resignation is lying on my desk already -, we're headed for another pharmaceutical scandal and two of my employees are basically blackmailing me. Not that any of this matters; in half-an-hour I'll be out of a job. Also thanks to House."
"I don't see how you can blame House if your gamble with Atlantic Net doesn't pay off," Wilson said reasonably.
"My 'gamble', as you call it, would have succeeded if House hadn't interfered."
"Cuddy, there's no way you could have gotten twelve percent, not when Atlantic Net only wanted to give you four." Wilson held open the stairwell door for her.
"I've played this game for years; I know how it's played." Cuddy jabbed a forefinger in his chest as she passed by him through the door. "They offer four percent, I demand twelve percent, they expect me to meet them at eight - which is what most administrators would do. They don't expect to get away with four." She waved her hands, lifting fingers in illustration as she talked and walked.
Wilson skipped slightly to catch up with her as she headed for the clinic. "But you didn't meet them at eight. You insisted on twelve. That's insanity and it has nothing to do with House."
Cuddy swung around so suddenly that he almost walked into her. "No, it's called 'taking a risk' and I would have succeeded. I upped the pressure, stalked their chairman, phoned around a bit and finally got them where I wanted them: at ten percent. Eli sent me an email half-an-hour ago saying he'd come around with the contract if I agreed."
"So why didn't you?"
Cuddy took a deep breath. "I would have, only I was busy mediating a fight instigated by your best friend, a fight that involved my head of surgery and a certain surgeon affiliated to another department, which left the head of that department free to sneak into my office and hack into my account. He shot Eli down, saying that I wouldn't settle for less than twelve percent. Now that is madness. Atlantic Net can agree to eight without losing face; ten percent is already stretching it; but if they agree to twelve percent with dinky little PPTH, how can they bargain with bigger hospitals? I'm going to be fired if I can't get hold of their rep now. Unfortunately Eli isn't answering his phone. Am I surprised?" she asked rhetorically.
She stalked into her office and marched to her desk. Picking up an envelope that lay there, she ripped it open and scanned its contents. "There! Thomas's resignation."
"What happened there?" Wilson asked tiredly.
"House has been hijacking the OT on various pretexts and superseding Thomas's choice of surgeons. I've been putting out fires there all day. Wrong metaphor: I've been negotiating truces all day. This afternoon House instigated a fight between Thomas and Chase which ended in a black eye for Chase and a bloody nose for Thomas."
Cuddy sank down on her couch and put her feet up on the coffee table. Wilson sat down gingerly next to her. She continued, staring straight ahead, "Thomas is head of surgery. Chase is a mere fellow from another department. What I should have done was suspend Chase for a few days."
"But you didn't."
"When I confronted Chase he insinuated that his work supporting Doctor House made him indispensable to the hospital." She gave Wilson a sideways glance to make sure that what she'd said had registered. "When Thomas heard that I wasn't suspending Chase he stormed out, threatening to resign."
"You can't blame House for Chase's opportunism," Wilson defended his friend.
"He certainly doesn't set a good example," Cuddy remarked. "Someone is to blame and it isn't me."
"You're the one who suggested having his team keep an eye on him."
"To get him off your back."
Wilson deftly changed the topic. "So, what about the pharmacy?"
Cuddy gave him a sharp glance, but obliged. "I was called down there because of shipment irregularities. Seems there's been large scale theft of medication for years."
Now Wilson did look worried. "So you think House ..."
Cuddy shook her head. "No, it's a pharm tech named Gail who's running a meth lab from her basement. She threatened to expose my 'affair' with House if I dismissed her."
"You can't blame House for her blackmailing you about your relationship with him. He's not even fuelling that rumour - he's spreading the good news of your dating Lucas," Wilson pointed out.
"Oh, I've got her under control. The DA is informed already. The point is," Cuddy said as she moodily plucked at her lower lip, "House knew she was iffy, but he chose not to warn me."
"Keeping an eye on your pharm techs isn't part of his job."
"No," Cuddy agreed, "it's my PI's job. Lucas, however, is so distracted riling House with our supposed sex life that he hasn't the time to pursue the tasks I pay him for."
"So tell Lucas to stop messing with House and get his work done," Wilson said testily.
"I did. He implied that he's more than earning his pay by keeping House in ignorance about the true nature of our relationship and the rest of the world clueless about House's 'state', as he called it. What it boils down to is that I'm paying him a monthly salary to keep his mouth shut."
"But that's not really House's fault either."
"No," Cuddy agreed rather too readily. She swooped in for the kill: "All House did was to accost me in the lobby in front of my nursing staff asking me whether Lucas and I had been at it when he paged me this morning, because if so, he owed Lucas."
“Ah.”
"They had some juvenile bet going. Lucas told him we do it every morning before work and House, unsurprisingly, didn't believe him."
"Oh, I don't know. More like, didn't want to believe him."
"What?" Cuddy turned to face Wilson fully, incredulity warring with disgust.
"Lucas is young and you're an attractive woman," Wilson hastened to explain.
"With a tight schedule. When exactly would I fit in morning sex? At five a.m. before yoga? At six a.m. with Rachel clamouring for her breakfast? At seven, with the babysitter in the next room? At 7:30, when I have to leave for work?"
"So what did you tell him?"
"I told him to give Lucas the money. If I'm to suffer the mortification of having my staff believe I fuck that juvenile jackass of an investigator, then let House wallow in the misery of assuming that I'm getting plenty whereas he isn't getting any."
"I think you've got a visitor," Wilson said, craning his neck as a slight unrest broke out at the clinic desk. Cuddy followed his line of vision, bringing her feet down abruptly from the coffee table and swinging herself up off the couch when she saw who it was.
"The moment of truth," she said, moving towards the door through which the Atlantic Net rep could be seen approaching. "You'd better start praying for our jobs."
XII: Lockdown
Reveals why a busy Dean goes baby-hunting and why she, and not her well-trained security staff, is the lucky finder.
Wilson was filling out a scrip for an idiot student with crotch rot when the door to the examination room opened. Cuddy's head poked through. "Need you. Now!" The door slammed shut again.
"Wow!" the student said. "I'd like to be needed by her."
"You won't be 'needed' by anyone until you've taken all of these." Tearing the scrip off his pad, Wilson slapped it into the student's hand, and then he followed Cuddy.
She was back in her office already, staring at her computer screen. When Wilson entered, she waved him over, indicating that he, too, should come to look at whatever had her riveted. Wilson moved to a position behind her right shoulder.
"Watch this!" Cuddy tipped the screen upwards to give him a better view. All Wilson could see was a video clip in poor quality. Other than a practically deserted area in one of the wards of PPTH there was nothing to be seen. The camera was well above eye level, so it must have been a surveillance camera. Other than a considerable portion of corridor one could make out the doors to two rooms on the left of the screen, part of the nurses' station on the right, and if one squinted hard and knew it must be there, one could recognise the elevator in the far background.
"What am I looking for?" Wilson murmured. The corridor was deserted, as was the nurses' station.
Cuddy pointed to the elevator. The door was opening and a fuzzy outline got out. The bad lighting and the distance made the person more a shadow than anything else, but the movement pattern was familiarly irregular.
"That's .... is that House? I'm not sure." Wilson bent over Cuddy's shoulder to get a better view.
"I am," Cuddy stated. "He comes into focus later."
Wilson straightened again, one hand stemmed on his hip. "So it's House. And he happens to be in the maternity ward just before a baby goes missing. That's odd - but it doesn't have to mean anything. He couldn't have known that a nurse would have a psychotic break moments later."
"She didn't." Cuddy's eyes hadn't left the screen. Now a nurse with a laundry cart entered the picture from the front.
"Sorry?"
"The nurse didn't have a psychotic break. Not then," Cuddy said, distracted. "Just watch this, will you?"
The nurse took a clean pile of towels from the cart.
"She's going into the room with clean towels," Wilson said in a 'let's state the obvious' tone. The nurse reappeared about thirty seconds later, a disorderly bundle in her arms. "Okay, there - she's got a whole pile of dirty towels and possibly the baby - oh, did she just throw the baby in with the towels? I didn't see the baby."
"No, there's no baby," Cuddy confirmed.
"Okay, so she got it later. You said she brought clean towels twice." The nurse went into the next room with another pile of clean towels.
"Never mind what I said. Just ..."
On the screen the shadowy figure suddenly limped forward. For a brief moment one got a clear view of his face - it was definitely House - before he disappeared into the patient's room. A few seconds later he reappeared carrying a bundle which he deposited carefully in the laundry cart. He looked around, then he took a wired basket normally used to transport files from the desk and placed it in the cart too.
"What's he doing?" Wilson said, frowning.
"He's placing the basket over the baby, upside down, so that the baby won't suffocate if any towels are thrown on top of it."
House disappeared from the screen; the nurse reappeared a few seconds later with more dirty towels. After throwing them into the cart she pushed it outside the camera range. The screen abruptly went black.
There was a moment of silence.
Wilson drew a hand through his hair. "So House took the baby."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I have no idea." Cuddy looked up at Wilson, shaking her head slightly. "I was hoping you'd enlighten me."
"If this was on security tapes, then how come we were on lockdown for hours? You could have nailed him right away."
"Don't exaggerate - it was just one hour," Cuddy said tartly. "The first thing security and I did when the baby disappeared was check the tapes, but the one from the maternity ward had disappeared. I figured the kidnapper must be someone from the hospital with insider knowledge and a grudge against me, so I immediately locked down the hospital and then settled down to wait for the blackmailer to make his demands."
"But nothing came," Wilson surmised.
"Exactly! Until this," Cuddy waved at the computer screen, "came via email, from House."
"So House took the baby, removed the incriminating evidence, but returned it an hour later so you could find the baby," Wilson summarised.
"Yes."
"Then you're not being blackmailed."
"No." Somehow, Cuddy's voice lacked the relief one would expect in someone who has just escaped a potentially messy situation.
"That's good," Wilson pointed out. Judging by Cuddy's expression she didn't agree. "Isn't it?" he added tentatively.
"No, it's not!" Cuddy snapped. "If I were being blackmailed I'd know what I'm up against. What the hell does House want and what'll he do next to get it?"
"Oh, he's probably - just proving a point," Wilson said vaguely.
"The point here being?"
"That your security sucks."
"My security does not suck!"
"It was just a series of unfortunate events that House was assaulted more than once, held hostage and shot on these premises," Wilson remarked.
Cuddy swivelled round in her chair to face Wilson and leaned back. "Had he wanted to make a statement about my security he'd have spirited the baby right out of my hospital and gloated in public. All he got out of this was a lockdown that ultimately proved that our security measures work. I got out of it the knowledge that you're a petty criminal - yes, I know about that dollar - and that a nurse in maternity has psychotic breaks, but I doubt that was his aim."
"Didn't you say she didn't have psychotic breaks?" Wilson was losing the plot.
"She does, according to her medical records – I checked them - so I'm not simply sacrificing her to save House's skin." Cuddy was slightly defensive. "We just don't know whether she had one yesterday."
"Ah, how opportune!"
"Very," Cuddy confirmed. "She was a disaster waiting to happen; we're lucky this happened before she did something - irreversible."
"Perhaps House wanted to bring her to your notice," Wilson suggested.
"He could have done that with a lot less inconvenience and hassle for everyone concerned."
"But that wouldn't be House."
"Maybe not, but causing parents unnecessary distress isn't House either. I'm wondering whether he ...," Cuddy hesitated, then she suddenly changed tack. "He seemed better recently."
"He made me re-furnish my condo. Twice!" Wilson whined.
"That's exactly what I meant by 'better'," Cuddy said with an evil smile. "Not to forget the little publicity stunt in aid of your Hollywood career."
Wilson flushed. "I ... that's ... That wasn't me!"
"It looked a lot like you."
"You ... watched it?" Wilson gulped, his face now a deep shade of crimson.
"Of course I did. I take a lively interest in my employees' off-hour activities if those are likely to interfere with their work performance. You are aware that your contract at PPTH prohibits you from accepting fees for services rendered to a third party."
"Cuddy, this was while I was in college, and I didn't get paid. I ..." Cuddy's broad grin suddenly registered. Wilson massaged the back of his neck. "Oh, crap!"
"How'd House find it?" Cuddy asked.
"The movie? Sheer coincidence, believe it or not. Though considering the amount of porn he watches, he was bound to come across it sooner or later."
"He watches that sort of stuff? No offence meant, but I've seen more erotic scenes in the Disney cartoons Rachel watches. That movie was a total turn-off!"
Wilson was visibly glad that the conversation had turned from him to House. "His taste in porn, as in books or music, is eclectic. One day he'll listen to Bach, the next to Beyoncé."
"That movie was definitely the Justin Bieber of porn. Can I work with the assumption that House is less dangerous than my psychotic nurse?" Cuddy asked. "Correction: 'more predictable'. House is always dangerous."
"He's been running around the hospital in a hallucinatory state these past seven months," Wilson pointed out. "Nothing has changed."
That made Cuddy sit up. "He took a baby! I'd like to be sure that he's messing with me, and not harbouring the illusion that he's ridding the world of a re-incarnation of Damien."
"Either way, something must have set him off. If we can figure out what it is ..."
"Nothing set this off," Cuddy said with conviction. "He was lounging in my office all evening before that started."
"Oh, are you encouraging his attempts to lure you away from Lucas?" Wilson quipped.
"You wish! No, I'm keeping him away from the clinic. Sometimes, when he has no patient, he comes to do his clinic duty ..."
Wilson frowned. "That doesn't sound like House."
"All part of his 'see-how-reliable-I-am,-so-why-don't-you-dump-Lucas' campaign." Cuddy rolled her hands in explanation. "Anyway, I have to prevent that, so I lure him into my office on some pretext or other, and then pretend not to notice that he grows roots there." At Wilson's speculative look she added, "It's preferable to the lawsuits I'd face if his clinic patients found out that the arrogant jerk who treated them doesn't possess a licence."
Wilson pushed himself off the sideboard behind Cuddy's desk. "Let's go look at the security tapes for the evening. Maybe he saw something, a patient with curious symptoms ..."
"At that time of day? The clinic closes down at six." Cuddy looked unconvinced as she trailed behind Wilson to the offices of the security department.
"When did he leave your office?"
"No idea. I'm pretty sure that he was still there at seven-thirty."
"He was shirking clinic duty in your office ninety minutes after the clinic closed?"
"He ... falls asleep on the couch. I don't bother to wake him," Cuddy said with a hint of embarrassment.
They'd reached security, so she stated her wish to the officer on duty. He grabbed a box of tapes from a shelf, led them to a back room with viewing equipment, and then left them.
Wilson looked at the box, then at Cuddy, who said, "The time stamp on the clip he sent me says he took the baby at 7:57 p.m."
"Okay, clinic between 19 and 20 hours." Wilson pulled a tape from the box and inserted into the player.
The security camera was fastened above the door to Cuddy's office so that it covered the clinic desk, the doors to all examination rooms and the waiting area. The lights in the area were still on, but it was completely deserted. After a few minutes of unmitigated boredom Cuddy sighed and leaned forward to fast-forward the tape. "There's nothing here. The cleaning lady has left and no one enters the area after that."
"There!" Wilson pointed to the screen. A figure was entering it from the right side.
"What ... who?"
"That's Cameron," Wilson said, his face scrunched up in concentration. A second figure followed.
"Are you sure? Yes, you're right. With Chase." Cuddy frowned her surprise at the innocent screen.
Chase pointed to the door of one of the examination rooms. Cameron hesitated, then she tipped her head to one side and smiled. Chase unlocked the door and ushered her in. Nothing happened for twenty further seconds. Then:
"And there goes House!" Wilson said, leaning back victoriously. House limped into the picture, heading purposefully towards the clinic exit. "Okay, we've got his reason for provoking a lockdown."
"He did it so he could hit on Cameron?"
"He did it so Chase could hit on her." Wilson fast-forwarded the tape. The time stamp leapt on. About thirty minutes later, Cameron emerged, pulling her fingers through her hair, followed by Chase straightening his clothes. "And it seems our young charmer did.”
“Cameron came here to do Chase in an examination room? I thought they'd split up ages ago!”
“They, ah, have this on-and-off thing going,” Wilson explained. At Cuddy's frown he added, “Cameron's quarrel is with you and me, not with Chase. And Chase has a pool going on how many rooms of the hospital he can have sex in.”
“I had to call a lockdown because House has money in Chase's pool?” Cuddy's voice did a loop-the-loop of indignation.
“Oh, no! No, no! House knows nothing about the pool. He thinks that Cameron and Chase are still married, but separated. That Dibala thing, you remember. Quite the romantic, House is. He probably thinks he's salvaging their marriage."
Cuddy leaned her elbows on the table in front of her and buried her face in her hands. "Couldn't he just have got them a room?"
flywoman , whose comments had a major impact on the last two chapters of this fic.IX: Remorse
Which confirms that Cuddy never had a picture of Lucas in her office and dispels any doubts the Reader may harbour regarding House's abilities while at medical school.
"Lunch?" Wilson, prompt as a cuckoo popping out of a clock, stuck his head through the door of Cuddy's office.
"Gimme a moment." Cuddy's fingers rapped a tattoo on the keyboard.
Wilson wandered over to the couch and sat down. It took a few minutes before he noticed that something was different than usual. He picked up one of the two picture frames on the coffee table and examined it, turning it into the light from the window. "Cute." It was Cuddy, posing before a tropical tree, in her arms the torso of a monkey that now sported Rachel's head instead of its own. The second picture, now depicting a monkey-headed toddler on a swing, was clearly the source of the monkey's new head.
"Not really." Cuddy's lips were a thin line.
"Don't be such a party pooper."
"Am I supposed to be amused at House making a monkey of my daughter?"
"Think of it as a courting ritual. He's expressing interest in your daughter. He's saying that ...," Wilson faltered, then inspiration hit him, "Rachel should be in your arms, not some anonymous ape."
"I hereby express interest in an apology, but that's not likely to happen." Her fingers attacked the keyboard viciously.
"Oh, I don't know." Wilson made it sound as if he did know.
"What, he showed remorse for defacing Rachel's picture?"
"Not exactly. He only mentioned manipulating a photo featuring Lucas," Wilson admitted.
"Please, Wilson! As though I'd have a picture of Lucas!" Cuddy pushed her chair back, got up and strode over to the coffee table. She picked up the picture that now depicted her with Rachel and squinted at it. "You know, that's even more insulting - imagining that Rachel bears the slightest resemblance to Lucas Douglas!"
Wilson nobly rose to his friend's defence. "You do see the goodwill behind this mild and merciful prank, don't you?"
"You've lost me."
"Had House wished to screw you and Lucas over," Wilson elucidated, "he would have photoshopped some and then spread it via the hospital intranet - at the best. At the worst, you'd find yourselves plastered all over Facebook and YouTube, doing unmentionable things with members of the bovine species. He isn't dipping your pigtails into the inkwell; he's merely flicking them gently."
"I'm to be grateful because he isn't stalking or harassing my non-existent boyfriend and me?"
"It's his way of showing that he respects your choice."
"So he's mellowing, like a good whiskey?" Cuddy picked up the second picture and took both over to her desk, where she placed them in the drawer.
"He is mellowing. He's more aware of his faults than he used to be."
"I never doubted that House was aware of his shortcomings. Problem is," the drawer slammed shut, "he refuses to derive any consequences from that knowledge."
"He has changed, Cuddy. You might get your apology. In Mayfield Nolan persuaded him to write a letter of apology to someone he wronged."
"He wrote you a letter of apology? That's sweet." Cuddy smiled at Wilson as she shut down her computer.
"Not me, actually. He wrote it to a fellow student."
Cuddy waved her hands at Wilson. "Give me a moment to get my mind around the concept that there's a being out there somewhere whom House has wronged more than he's wronged you."
"House's idea is to start small and work his way up. He was in a seminar with this guy and he swapped their final papers to prove some theory of his."
"He's apologising for doing someone a favour?" Wilson looked at Cuddy questioningly. She explained, "House's paper couldn't have deserved less than an 'A' - the quality of his work is never an issue. It's getting him to do it at all that is the problem."
"That's .. odd." Wilson frowned at Cuddy, or rather, through her, his eyes focused on something in the distance. "House was trying to prove that the professor was deliberately downgrading him, so he swapped his paper with an 'A'-student's paper. He promptly got an 'A' on Wibberly's paper."
"So he was wrong." Cuddy picked up her purse and moved towards the door.
"Only if Wibberly got a worse grade than an 'A' on House's paper."
"And did he?"
"House doesn't know," Wilson said slowly as though thinking something through.
"If House got a straight 'A' after getting lower grades before, it seems safe to assume that Wibberly got House's 'C' or 'D'."
"First, as you say, it's unlikely that House submitted a 'C'-standard assignment. Secondly, House doesn't assume. If he had conducted this experiment to prove a point, he'd have verified the result by checking Wibberly's grade." Wilson's hand chopped the air to emphasise his point.
“So what are you saying?”
“I'm saying that House never swapped those papers because if he had, he would have gone to the trouble of finding out what grade Wibberly got on House's paper. Setting up an experiment and then not cross-checking the results is bad science, and that's one thing one can't accuse House of.”
Cuddy finally understood what Wilson was getting at. "Why would House's brain invent wrongs he never committed? If he wants to wallow in guilt, I'm sure he's stored up enough muck to fill a whole pool."
"He knows that he has to address the issues caused by his pre-Mayfield behaviour, but as long as he's busy dealing with imaginary sins, he can postpone facing the people he's really hurt."
X: Moving the Chains
A short chapter in which Wilson returns Cuddy's previous disapproval with compound interest.
Wilson, tray-less, slid into the empty seat at Cuddy's table in the cafeteria. "You were out of House's office fast this morning."
Cuddy glanced up before refocusing on her salad. "Some of us have a job to do."
"Your hasty retreat had nothing to do with guilt?" Wilson regarded her with narrowed eyes. A slight flush rose up her throat. "That look of faux innocence does not sit well on you."
Throwing up her hands in surrender, Cuddy leaned back. "Fine. I paid Lucas to prank you. Send me the bills."
"I will." There was not a tinge of amusement in Wilson's voice.
"Why are you so outraged? This is the sort of thing you and House do regularly to each other - I'm sure you suspected each other at first."
"Why did you prank us?" Wilson accused more than asked.
"You said House needs to be kept busy. So far, you've borne the brunt of keeping him occupied, so I thought I'd contribute my dime's worth. I'm sorry if you consider this as poaching on your premises. Next time I'll ask your permission first." Cuddy shook her head in exasperation as she picked up her fork again.
"If you want to do something for him, why don't you invite him over for dinner?"
"Invite a guy over who is expressing romantic sentiments for me, thinks I'm dating someone else and spells jealousy with a capital 'J'? Yes, that will keep him busy! What is your issue with - what was it - an oppossum in the bathroom and your fire alarm going off?"
"Fire sprinklers, actually. You forgot cracking open House's skull."
"What?" Cuddy's fork dropped with a clatter.
"Your boyfriend loosened the grab rail in my bathroom. House knocked his head on the bathtub," Wilson recounted unemotionally.
"He was supposed to be harassing you, not House, so House could investigate his best buddy’s plight. And he isn't my boyfriend," Cuddy added as an afterthought.
"He must have got that mixed up, because not an hour ago he tripped House up, right over there." Wilson pointed to a spot about ten yards away.
"You're kidding!" Wilson obviously wasn't doing anything of the sort. "Why would he do that?"
"Because he's an asshole?" Wilson surmised. "Cuddy, you're out of your depth here. This isn't a board room poker game, where you pit the other board members against each other and emerge the unscathed winner. They are two testosterone-laden alpha males fighting for the most desirable female. If you don't put a stop to this we'll have more damage than just a few chipped antlers."
"I'm not interested in either of them," Cuddy stated flatly.
"That's odd, because I could have sworn that your heels were lower and your necklines higher when House was in Mayfield."
Cuddy's eyes dropped.
"Cuddy, your games with House were fun while he was in his right mind and could judge your intentions and the risks involved. Now they're cruel."
"I'm not playing with House. I'm avoiding him, in case you haven't noticed."
"Now you're playing with Lucas instead," Wilson continued relentlessly. "Only, he isn't sticking to the rules, is he? House is getting hurt in the process, and I don't mean just physically."
Cuddy closed her eyes briefly. "I'll call Lucas off. Is there any way we can stop House from exacting dire revenge? Because if he does, there's no guarantee that Lucas won't retaliate regardless of what I tell him."
"House won't be a problem."
"No? What's he hallucinating now?" Cuddy's expression was a mixture of worry and dread.
"Nothing," Wilson said as though the idea were an impertinent allegation. He got up. Looking down on her he said with a hint of reproach, "He wants you to be happy, Cuddy. Even if it's with another guy."
XI: 5 to 9
Wherein Cuddy's true target in the Atlantic Net deal is revealed and the logistics of morning sex are discussed.
Wilson took his lab coat off the rack, cast a last glance around his office and switched off the light. Then he closed the door and locked it, checking it once more by pressing down the handle. Satisfied, he made for the elevator, shrugging on his coat as he went. Out in the corridor he hesitated a moment, then he headed for the stairwell, trotting down two floors rapidly. He was halfway down the next flight when he stopped suddenly - leaning against the wall next to the exit to the clinic was Cuddy. She'd heard him, though. She tipped her head so she could see him. When she recognised him, she pushed herself off the wall, hands on her hips.
"Get him off my back! I swear if you don't, I'll murder him - and I won't even bother to hide the corpse. I'll impale his head on his cane and display it in the lobby."
"Wow!" Wilson took the last few steps at a somewhat slower pace. "What did he do?"
"He's taking over my hospital. I've been dean for over thirteen years now. I can recognise a take-over bid when I see one." She didn't seem to expect any sort of a comment, let alone a refutation of her accusation. "Surgery is in a shambles - I'm sure Thomas's resignation is lying on my desk already -, we're headed for another pharmaceutical scandal and two of my employees are basically blackmailing me. Not that any of this matters; in half-an-hour I'll be out of a job. Also thanks to House."
"I don't see how you can blame House if your gamble with Atlantic Net doesn't pay off," Wilson said reasonably.
"My 'gamble', as you call it, would have succeeded if House hadn't interfered."
"Cuddy, there's no way you could have gotten twelve percent, not when Atlantic Net only wanted to give you four." Wilson held open the stairwell door for her.
"I've played this game for years; I know how it's played." Cuddy jabbed a forefinger in his chest as she passed by him through the door. "They offer four percent, I demand twelve percent, they expect me to meet them at eight - which is what most administrators would do. They don't expect to get away with four." She waved her hands, lifting fingers in illustration as she talked and walked.
Wilson skipped slightly to catch up with her as she headed for the clinic. "But you didn't meet them at eight. You insisted on twelve. That's insanity and it has nothing to do with House."
Cuddy swung around so suddenly that he almost walked into her. "No, it's called 'taking a risk' and I would have succeeded. I upped the pressure, stalked their chairman, phoned around a bit and finally got them where I wanted them: at ten percent. Eli sent me an email half-an-hour ago saying he'd come around with the contract if I agreed."
"So why didn't you?"
Cuddy took a deep breath. "I would have, only I was busy mediating a fight instigated by your best friend, a fight that involved my head of surgery and a certain surgeon affiliated to another department, which left the head of that department free to sneak into my office and hack into my account. He shot Eli down, saying that I wouldn't settle for less than twelve percent. Now that is madness. Atlantic Net can agree to eight without losing face; ten percent is already stretching it; but if they agree to twelve percent with dinky little PPTH, how can they bargain with bigger hospitals? I'm going to be fired if I can't get hold of their rep now. Unfortunately Eli isn't answering his phone. Am I surprised?" she asked rhetorically.
She stalked into her office and marched to her desk. Picking up an envelope that lay there, she ripped it open and scanned its contents. "There! Thomas's resignation."
"What happened there?" Wilson asked tiredly.
"House has been hijacking the OT on various pretexts and superseding Thomas's choice of surgeons. I've been putting out fires there all day. Wrong metaphor: I've been negotiating truces all day. This afternoon House instigated a fight between Thomas and Chase which ended in a black eye for Chase and a bloody nose for Thomas."
Cuddy sank down on her couch and put her feet up on the coffee table. Wilson sat down gingerly next to her. She continued, staring straight ahead, "Thomas is head of surgery. Chase is a mere fellow from another department. What I should have done was suspend Chase for a few days."
"But you didn't."
"When I confronted Chase he insinuated that his work supporting Doctor House made him indispensable to the hospital." She gave Wilson a sideways glance to make sure that what she'd said had registered. "When Thomas heard that I wasn't suspending Chase he stormed out, threatening to resign."
"You can't blame House for Chase's opportunism," Wilson defended his friend.
"He certainly doesn't set a good example," Cuddy remarked. "Someone is to blame and it isn't me."
"You're the one who suggested having his team keep an eye on him."
"To get him off your back."
Wilson deftly changed the topic. "So, what about the pharmacy?"
Cuddy gave him a sharp glance, but obliged. "I was called down there because of shipment irregularities. Seems there's been large scale theft of medication for years."
Now Wilson did look worried. "So you think House ..."
Cuddy shook her head. "No, it's a pharm tech named Gail who's running a meth lab from her basement. She threatened to expose my 'affair' with House if I dismissed her."
"You can't blame House for her blackmailing you about your relationship with him. He's not even fuelling that rumour - he's spreading the good news of your dating Lucas," Wilson pointed out.
"Oh, I've got her under control. The DA is informed already. The point is," Cuddy said as she moodily plucked at her lower lip, "House knew she was iffy, but he chose not to warn me."
"Keeping an eye on your pharm techs isn't part of his job."
"No," Cuddy agreed, "it's my PI's job. Lucas, however, is so distracted riling House with our supposed sex life that he hasn't the time to pursue the tasks I pay him for."
"So tell Lucas to stop messing with House and get his work done," Wilson said testily.
"I did. He implied that he's more than earning his pay by keeping House in ignorance about the true nature of our relationship and the rest of the world clueless about House's 'state', as he called it. What it boils down to is that I'm paying him a monthly salary to keep his mouth shut."
"But that's not really House's fault either."
"No," Cuddy agreed rather too readily. She swooped in for the kill: "All House did was to accost me in the lobby in front of my nursing staff asking me whether Lucas and I had been at it when he paged me this morning, because if so, he owed Lucas."
“Ah.”
"They had some juvenile bet going. Lucas told him we do it every morning before work and House, unsurprisingly, didn't believe him."
"Oh, I don't know. More like, didn't want to believe him."
"What?" Cuddy turned to face Wilson fully, incredulity warring with disgust.
"Lucas is young and you're an attractive woman," Wilson hastened to explain.
"With a tight schedule. When exactly would I fit in morning sex? At five a.m. before yoga? At six a.m. with Rachel clamouring for her breakfast? At seven, with the babysitter in the next room? At 7:30, when I have to leave for work?"
"So what did you tell him?"
"I told him to give Lucas the money. If I'm to suffer the mortification of having my staff believe I fuck that juvenile jackass of an investigator, then let House wallow in the misery of assuming that I'm getting plenty whereas he isn't getting any."
"I think you've got a visitor," Wilson said, craning his neck as a slight unrest broke out at the clinic desk. Cuddy followed his line of vision, bringing her feet down abruptly from the coffee table and swinging herself up off the couch when she saw who it was.
"The moment of truth," she said, moving towards the door through which the Atlantic Net rep could be seen approaching. "You'd better start praying for our jobs."
XII: Lockdown
Reveals why a busy Dean goes baby-hunting and why she, and not her well-trained security staff, is the lucky finder.
Wilson was filling out a scrip for an idiot student with crotch rot when the door to the examination room opened. Cuddy's head poked through. "Need you. Now!" The door slammed shut again.
"Wow!" the student said. "I'd like to be needed by her."
"You won't be 'needed' by anyone until you've taken all of these." Tearing the scrip off his pad, Wilson slapped it into the student's hand, and then he followed Cuddy.
She was back in her office already, staring at her computer screen. When Wilson entered, she waved him over, indicating that he, too, should come to look at whatever had her riveted. Wilson moved to a position behind her right shoulder.
"Watch this!" Cuddy tipped the screen upwards to give him a better view. All Wilson could see was a video clip in poor quality. Other than a practically deserted area in one of the wards of PPTH there was nothing to be seen. The camera was well above eye level, so it must have been a surveillance camera. Other than a considerable portion of corridor one could make out the doors to two rooms on the left of the screen, part of the nurses' station on the right, and if one squinted hard and knew it must be there, one could recognise the elevator in the far background.
"What am I looking for?" Wilson murmured. The corridor was deserted, as was the nurses' station.
Cuddy pointed to the elevator. The door was opening and a fuzzy outline got out. The bad lighting and the distance made the person more a shadow than anything else, but the movement pattern was familiarly irregular.
"That's .... is that House? I'm not sure." Wilson bent over Cuddy's shoulder to get a better view.
"I am," Cuddy stated. "He comes into focus later."
Wilson straightened again, one hand stemmed on his hip. "So it's House. And he happens to be in the maternity ward just before a baby goes missing. That's odd - but it doesn't have to mean anything. He couldn't have known that a nurse would have a psychotic break moments later."
"She didn't." Cuddy's eyes hadn't left the screen. Now a nurse with a laundry cart entered the picture from the front.
"Sorry?"
"The nurse didn't have a psychotic break. Not then," Cuddy said, distracted. "Just watch this, will you?"
The nurse took a clean pile of towels from the cart.
"She's going into the room with clean towels," Wilson said in a 'let's state the obvious' tone. The nurse reappeared about thirty seconds later, a disorderly bundle in her arms. "Okay, there - she's got a whole pile of dirty towels and possibly the baby - oh, did she just throw the baby in with the towels? I didn't see the baby."
"No, there's no baby," Cuddy confirmed.
"Okay, so she got it later. You said she brought clean towels twice." The nurse went into the next room with another pile of clean towels.
"Never mind what I said. Just ..."
On the screen the shadowy figure suddenly limped forward. For a brief moment one got a clear view of his face - it was definitely House - before he disappeared into the patient's room. A few seconds later he reappeared carrying a bundle which he deposited carefully in the laundry cart. He looked around, then he took a wired basket normally used to transport files from the desk and placed it in the cart too.
"What's he doing?" Wilson said, frowning.
"He's placing the basket over the baby, upside down, so that the baby won't suffocate if any towels are thrown on top of it."
House disappeared from the screen; the nurse reappeared a few seconds later with more dirty towels. After throwing them into the cart she pushed it outside the camera range. The screen abruptly went black.
There was a moment of silence.
Wilson drew a hand through his hair. "So House took the baby."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I have no idea." Cuddy looked up at Wilson, shaking her head slightly. "I was hoping you'd enlighten me."
"If this was on security tapes, then how come we were on lockdown for hours? You could have nailed him right away."
"Don't exaggerate - it was just one hour," Cuddy said tartly. "The first thing security and I did when the baby disappeared was check the tapes, but the one from the maternity ward had disappeared. I figured the kidnapper must be someone from the hospital with insider knowledge and a grudge against me, so I immediately locked down the hospital and then settled down to wait for the blackmailer to make his demands."
"But nothing came," Wilson surmised.
"Exactly! Until this," Cuddy waved at the computer screen, "came via email, from House."
"So House took the baby, removed the incriminating evidence, but returned it an hour later so you could find the baby," Wilson summarised.
"Yes."
"Then you're not being blackmailed."
"No." Somehow, Cuddy's voice lacked the relief one would expect in someone who has just escaped a potentially messy situation.
"That's good," Wilson pointed out. Judging by Cuddy's expression she didn't agree. "Isn't it?" he added tentatively.
"No, it's not!" Cuddy snapped. "If I were being blackmailed I'd know what I'm up against. What the hell does House want and what'll he do next to get it?"
"Oh, he's probably - just proving a point," Wilson said vaguely.
"The point here being?"
"That your security sucks."
"My security does not suck!"
"It was just a series of unfortunate events that House was assaulted more than once, held hostage and shot on these premises," Wilson remarked.
Cuddy swivelled round in her chair to face Wilson and leaned back. "Had he wanted to make a statement about my security he'd have spirited the baby right out of my hospital and gloated in public. All he got out of this was a lockdown that ultimately proved that our security measures work. I got out of it the knowledge that you're a petty criminal - yes, I know about that dollar - and that a nurse in maternity has psychotic breaks, but I doubt that was his aim."
"Didn't you say she didn't have psychotic breaks?" Wilson was losing the plot.
"She does, according to her medical records – I checked them - so I'm not simply sacrificing her to save House's skin." Cuddy was slightly defensive. "We just don't know whether she had one yesterday."
"Ah, how opportune!"
"Very," Cuddy confirmed. "She was a disaster waiting to happen; we're lucky this happened before she did something - irreversible."
"Perhaps House wanted to bring her to your notice," Wilson suggested.
"He could have done that with a lot less inconvenience and hassle for everyone concerned."
"But that wouldn't be House."
"Maybe not, but causing parents unnecessary distress isn't House either. I'm wondering whether he ...," Cuddy hesitated, then she suddenly changed tack. "He seemed better recently."
"He made me re-furnish my condo. Twice!" Wilson whined.
"That's exactly what I meant by 'better'," Cuddy said with an evil smile. "Not to forget the little publicity stunt in aid of your Hollywood career."
Wilson flushed. "I ... that's ... That wasn't me!"
"It looked a lot like you."
"You ... watched it?" Wilson gulped, his face now a deep shade of crimson.
"Of course I did. I take a lively interest in my employees' off-hour activities if those are likely to interfere with their work performance. You are aware that your contract at PPTH prohibits you from accepting fees for services rendered to a third party."
"Cuddy, this was while I was in college, and I didn't get paid. I ..." Cuddy's broad grin suddenly registered. Wilson massaged the back of his neck. "Oh, crap!"
"How'd House find it?" Cuddy asked.
"The movie? Sheer coincidence, believe it or not. Though considering the amount of porn he watches, he was bound to come across it sooner or later."
"He watches that sort of stuff? No offence meant, but I've seen more erotic scenes in the Disney cartoons Rachel watches. That movie was a total turn-off!"
Wilson was visibly glad that the conversation had turned from him to House. "His taste in porn, as in books or music, is eclectic. One day he'll listen to Bach, the next to Beyoncé."
"That movie was definitely the Justin Bieber of porn. Can I work with the assumption that House is less dangerous than my psychotic nurse?" Cuddy asked. "Correction: 'more predictable'. House is always dangerous."
"He's been running around the hospital in a hallucinatory state these past seven months," Wilson pointed out. "Nothing has changed."
That made Cuddy sit up. "He took a baby! I'd like to be sure that he's messing with me, and not harbouring the illusion that he's ridding the world of a re-incarnation of Damien."
"Either way, something must have set him off. If we can figure out what it is ..."
"Nothing set this off," Cuddy said with conviction. "He was lounging in my office all evening before that started."
"Oh, are you encouraging his attempts to lure you away from Lucas?" Wilson quipped.
"You wish! No, I'm keeping him away from the clinic. Sometimes, when he has no patient, he comes to do his clinic duty ..."
Wilson frowned. "That doesn't sound like House."
"All part of his 'see-how-reliable-I-am,-so-why-don't-you-dump-Lucas' campaign." Cuddy rolled her hands in explanation. "Anyway, I have to prevent that, so I lure him into my office on some pretext or other, and then pretend not to notice that he grows roots there." At Wilson's speculative look she added, "It's preferable to the lawsuits I'd face if his clinic patients found out that the arrogant jerk who treated them doesn't possess a licence."
Wilson pushed himself off the sideboard behind Cuddy's desk. "Let's go look at the security tapes for the evening. Maybe he saw something, a patient with curious symptoms ..."
"At that time of day? The clinic closes down at six." Cuddy looked unconvinced as she trailed behind Wilson to the offices of the security department.
"When did he leave your office?"
"No idea. I'm pretty sure that he was still there at seven-thirty."
"He was shirking clinic duty in your office ninety minutes after the clinic closed?"
"He ... falls asleep on the couch. I don't bother to wake him," Cuddy said with a hint of embarrassment.
They'd reached security, so she stated her wish to the officer on duty. He grabbed a box of tapes from a shelf, led them to a back room with viewing equipment, and then left them.
Wilson looked at the box, then at Cuddy, who said, "The time stamp on the clip he sent me says he took the baby at 7:57 p.m."
"Okay, clinic between 19 and 20 hours." Wilson pulled a tape from the box and inserted into the player.
The security camera was fastened above the door to Cuddy's office so that it covered the clinic desk, the doors to all examination rooms and the waiting area. The lights in the area were still on, but it was completely deserted. After a few minutes of unmitigated boredom Cuddy sighed and leaned forward to fast-forward the tape. "There's nothing here. The cleaning lady has left and no one enters the area after that."
"There!" Wilson pointed to the screen. A figure was entering it from the right side.
"What ... who?"
"That's Cameron," Wilson said, his face scrunched up in concentration. A second figure followed.
"Are you sure? Yes, you're right. With Chase." Cuddy frowned her surprise at the innocent screen.
Chase pointed to the door of one of the examination rooms. Cameron hesitated, then she tipped her head to one side and smiled. Chase unlocked the door and ushered her in. Nothing happened for twenty further seconds. Then:
"And there goes House!" Wilson said, leaning back victoriously. House limped into the picture, heading purposefully towards the clinic exit. "Okay, we've got his reason for provoking a lockdown."
"He did it so he could hit on Cameron?"
"He did it so Chase could hit on her." Wilson fast-forwarded the tape. The time stamp leapt on. About thirty minutes later, Cameron emerged, pulling her fingers through her hair, followed by Chase straightening his clothes. "And it seems our young charmer did.”
“Cameron came here to do Chase in an examination room? I thought they'd split up ages ago!”
“They, ah, have this on-and-off thing going,” Wilson explained. At Cuddy's frown he added, “Cameron's quarrel is with you and me, not with Chase. And Chase has a pool going on how many rooms of the hospital he can have sex in.”
“I had to call a lockdown because House has money in Chase's pool?” Cuddy's voice did a loop-the-loop of indignation.
“Oh, no! No, no! House knows nothing about the pool. He thinks that Cameron and Chase are still married, but separated. That Dibala thing, you remember. Quite the romantic, House is. He probably thinks he's salvaging their marriage."
Cuddy leaned her elbows on the table in front of her and buried her face in her hands. "Couldn't he just have got them a room?"
