readingrat | Twelve Days, Day 9 (Reply)

Viola:
I pity you.
Olivia:
That's a degree to love.
Viola:
No, not a grize; for 'tis a vulgar proof,
That very oft we pity enemies.
[Twelfth Night, Act 3 Scene 1]

May 24, 2010: Day 9
(Seven days after the crane disaster in Trenton)

10 am

The next patient is a man in baseball cap, checked flannel shirt and sunglasses, reading a newspaper. Chase grabs the file from the clinic desk and walks over to him.

"What can I do for you?" he asks as he opens the file to check the patient history that the nurse on duty has hopefully taken down already. He looks up from the file at the man sitting before him and frowns, not bothering to hide his dislike.

"Diagnose me?" Lucas suggests.

Chase snaps the file shut and turns back towards the clinic desk.

"Hey! It's a free clinic, isn't it? You can't refuse to treat me. Boss lady won't like it!"

"You're wasting my time. You're here sounding people on House - yeah, the nurse told me that you've been snooping around! Boss lady won't like that either."

"Are you his puppy, snapping at people's ankles?" Lucas asks provocatively.

Chase's gaze is calm. "No, but I will guard him against snooping vermin." He pulls out his cell phone and texts a short message.

"Okay," Lucas says, his body language expressing his irritation as he rises and pushes past Chase.

When the doors of the elevator open on the fourth floor, Lucas is faced with Foreman and Taub. They throw each other telling glances before they move slightly apart, leaving a narrow corridor for Lucas to pass through. Lucas nods at them as he steps out.

"Hey, guys," he says with his usual cheer.

"House is waiting for you," Foreman tells him.

"If you're here to see him," Taub adds.

"Yeah, I am ... I mean, not really …"

"Then we can escort you out of the hospital," Foreman suggests.

"Or ask security to show you the way," Taub continues.

Lucas looks from one to the other. "You guys would be great in a comedy act, but you've got the wrong idea. House and I are just fine, we're okay, really, no stress at all!"

"Bestest buddies," Foreman says with no inflection whatsoever.

"Quite," Taub supplements. "You date the boss, and while she's away you just happen to drop in asking questions about House."

"Go ask him why he's paying me for tagging you on Fridays. Got a nice picture of you and that blonde nurse from pediatrics. Giving her a lift home, were you?" Lucas snipes. It isn't that long a shot given the knowledge he accumulated about Taub on House's behest two years ago. He has the pleasure of seeing Taub pale as he leaves him standing there.

After Chase's short phone call House sits in his office tossing a coin and keeping tally in his head. If Lucas is here in the hospital then (heads) he isn't in Pittsburgh with Cuddy and the Cabbage Patch kid. Cuddy isn't parading her husband-to-be in front of her mother (heads again) and getting her blessing for the union, despite the flight ticket she'd booked for Lucas. That and the ring left behind in the drawer means (heads once more) that maybe he'd been a bit hasty in coming to certain conclusions. Cuddy tried to call him a number of times (heads again - what happened to probability?), but he ignored the calls (tails - probability is vindicated) until she finally gave up (bother, tails again).

He supposes she'll be worried sick by now. Or, more likely, she's phoned Wilson to make sure he's okay (tails the third), in which case she'll be royally pissed at having her calls ignored. He throws the coin up meditatively; chances are that she'll put it all down to his propensity to act like a jerk but (tails once more) he'll still have to explain how and why the ring got back to Lucas. (A draw so far.)

He spins the coin on his desk, the smooth even motion calming him. His life doesn't follow the laws of probability, because he doesn't have an even chance. Faced with the need to explain his behaviour, or at least to apologize for it, he'll try to evade, only to be drawn into an accelerating vortex of needle-sharp mockery and feigned indifference to her hurt. Intending to deflect from the six-headed monster of jealousy that had possessed him to mistrust her, he'll indulge in his special brand of asinine cruelty that succeeds in pushing everyone away.

Damn, how did he manage to screw everything up so quickly? He wanted it to work, didn't want this melt-down. Oh, he knew that they didn't stand a realistic chance, but he assumed that they would break up over tension at work being carried into their private lives or his inability to fit into her family life or her inability to cope with the inevitable relapse. This, however, defies all logic. His judgement clouded by emotions, he misconstrued evidence, diagnosing their love as gangrenous and allowing for no other remedy than amputation when patience and proper nursing might have …

Can still save it, he decides. Cuddy isn't an advocate of long-winded explanations, apologies or in-depth analyses of his character. Unlike Wilson, her method of coping with his erratic behaviour is not to ask 'why' or 'whereof', but to yell at him and then get over it. If he tries to get things back to normal - whatever that may be - she'll probably write his previous coldness off as pain-induced, sniping at him overtly for being a jerk while covertly searching for some more appropriate pain-management regimen, combating her guilt at leaving him alone in Princeton while he still needed her care by giving him the benefit of the doubt.

He gets out his cell phone and speed-dials her number. A polite female voice informs him, "The number you dialled is unavailable." That's all - no request to leave a message on voice-mail. She's switched off her phone and disabled voice mail. Is she avoiding him or the hospital? He debates phoning her mother's land line, but seeing Lucas approach along the corridor he puts away the phone and swings his feet demonstratively onto his desk.

Watching Lucas prowl around his office he can't help admiring his unflappable self-confidence, not to say cheer, in the face of personal disaster.

"May I?" Lucas asks, indicating the trash bin.

"Go ahead."

Lucas pulls out a large plastic carrier bag and tips the contents of the bin into it. "I wish you'd call your guard dogs off," he remarks. He then looks pointedly at House's feet on the desk.

"What?" House says.

"I'd like to go through your drawers," Lucas says with the angelic patience of a good parent dealing with a stubborn child.

"Wouldn't want to discomfit an old cripple, would you?"

"Okay, then I'll start with your backpack," Lucas says easily.

House can see why Cuddy would consider him good father material: childishness and obstinacy don't faze him. House hooks his cane into one of the straps of his backpack and pulls it towards himself, away from Lucas. Lucas straightens and regards him through narrowed eyes.

"We have a bargain," he points out. "You let me do my job in peace and I don't rat on you to Lisa."

House blows up his cheeks to let the air out in little pops. "That little soap-bubble has burst, though, hasn't it? All I did was accelerate the Return of the Ring to its rightful owner - a bit presumptuous, I'll agree, but hardly the stuff of blackmail."

Lucas stills. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're here while she's with her mom, and she isn't wearing the ring. The engagement is off."

"Her dad's death anniversary. An intimate family thingy, all tears and fond memories, I'd have been in the way. Big mouth, never know when to keep it shut - you know the sort of thing."

"What, the fresh-out-of-the-mint fiancé, the fulfilment of Grandma Cuddy's dreams, the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to put Sister Juliet's nose out of joint? No way Cuddy voluntarily opted out of that. Besides, you have a flight ticket, so you'd planned on going, but something changed at the last minute."

Lucas changes tack. "Okay, she called it off, but she'll come round again." There is an unexpected confidence in his tone that begs to be examined.

House takes his feet down, props his elbows on the desk and musters the young man intently. "You overestimate your powers of attraction. Cuddy isn't that desperate."

Lucas sits down opposite him, his gaze as hard and intense as House's. "She may not have much of a choice."

"No?" House leans back comfortably, his hands clasped behind his head.

"Sweet," Lucas says. "You waiting around for a whole year like a love-struck teen, thinking that if you buckle up ... oh, that's why there's been nothing in the trash since those two bottles, and I bet you didn't even take those. How touching: Greg staying clean for his Lisa!"

House's innate aversion to physical violence fights with the desire to wipe Lucas's complacent smirk off his face. Lucas is clever enough to sense some of the pent-up aggression he's provoking. He stands up. "You think now that she's free you can step in. Sorry, but that won't work."

House fights to hide the tension that Lucas's jibes have induced. "No? She .... likes me."

Lucas guffaws. "Oh, I don't doubt that. Never have, if you'll remember. Doesn't mean she wants to be with you."

That opens a recent wound, the one left by her, 'I love you. I wish I didn't, but I can't help it.' If she could help it ....

"And even if she did," Lucas continues remorselessly, "she can't afford to. If she gets involved with you, she'll lose the kid."

"The kid's adopted," House interposes.

"Legally she isn't adopted as yet. Officially Lisa's still fostering. The father is not only contesting the adoption, but also claiming custody."

"What, some teenage brat ...," House grouses.

"He's not a teenage brat any more, he's a major. Without his consent there'll be no adoption. As for custody, he's of age, in his right mind and the biological parent. Lisa is over forty, single and a full-time working mom. She's going to need every ounce of respectability she can muster to combat such a claim. Believe me, marriage to a solid, dependable young man the right age to be Rachel's father might just do the job. But an on-and-off relationship - or were thinking more along the friends-with-benefits line? - with a delusional addict will ruin her chances of convincing the judge that she can offer stability. And other than stability, what can she offer to outdo the child's biological father?"

Lucas's words are barbs aimed at stinging House, but House brushes Lucas's contempt aside. It's the truth behind his words that wrenches his guts. If things stand as Lucas says, if Cuddy needs respectability beyond what her job has to offer, then he's the last person to be able to provide it. He's no trump card at the best of times; if the game gets tight, then having him on her hand is a heavy liability.

House scans Lucas's face, looking for some sign that this is just another bluff, like his pretence that the engagement is still on. Lucas's mien, however, is unreadable.

"Gimme proof that the boy is suing for custody and ...," the words stick to the roof of his mouth, "I'll back off."

Lucas snorts. "I'm not sure I consider you competition enough to bother." Something in House's eyes makes him change his mind. "But you can have all the proof you want. Do us all a favour though. Back off and stay off. This is tough on Lisa as it is. Don't make it worse for her. Asking her to choose you is asking her to give up the kid. If you love her you won't do that."

House knows when he's being manipulated, but that doesn't make what Lucas is saying any the less true. It's a risky game that Lucas is playing, admitting that Cuddy is attracted to House, but appealing to House's better nature not to take advantage of that. How many people in the world believe that House possesses enough decency to respect other people's needs?

"It doesn't bother you that she'll marry you for the parasite's sake?" he asks. He may respect Cuddy's feelings, but there's no need to go easy on Lucas.

"She ... likes me, too," Lucas quotes back at House. "Let's not kid ourselves. Men will always range way behind the hospital and Rachel on Lisa's list of priorities. Besides, she wasn't all that enthused about you even before the kid came along.... I'll drop in with a copy of the boy's custody application as soon as possible." With that he turns and exits, leaving a pensive House behind.

Sir Andrew:
No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer.
Sir Toby Belch:
Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason.
Fabian:
You must needs yield your reason, Sir Andrew.
[Twelfth Night, Act 3 Scene 2]

Noon

Taub moodily pulls his napkin into strips.

"Do you want your fries?" Chase asks.

Taub silently pushes his plate over to Chase. "I think I'll resign," he says suddenly.
"Why would you do that?" Foreman asks.

"House is messing around with me. Now he's paying that creep to tail me. I took this job to save my marriage, not to ruin it."

Chase and Foreman exchange glances. Chase toys with the fries, pondering on the wisdom of offering unsolicited advice. If he stuck his neck out too far, someone would point out that people whose marriages didn't make it to the first anniversary should get a glass breakage insurance before proffering marriage counselling.

Foreman has no such scruples. "I think that blonde nurse poses a greater danger to your marriage than the PI."

But like most people bent on a course of destruction, Taub is deaf to the voice of reason pointing out his own culpability. "It's absolutely none of House's business. He pokes his arrogant nose into my private affairs and uses the information he gathers to put me under pressure. I should quit before he opens his big mouth in front of Rachel."

"House won't want you to leave," Foreman points out. "He'll get you back, even if it means blackmailing you, and then you'll be in a worse position than before."

"Make it clear to him that you'll work for him, but that you won't put up with his nosiness," Chase suggests. "I did, and it works."

"You think I should sock House on the nose?" Taub enquires sarcastically.

Foreman musters Taub with a wry smile. "Maybe not. But you'd make your point if you took on his PI. There's no love lost between them, so House won't take it personally, but he'll get the message."

"Good idea!" Chase says enthusiastically.

Taub's mouth twitches. "Contrary to what you may believe, I do not turn into a green hulking mass of muscles when I tear off my lab coat. I stay short, bald and flabby. Just what do you gain if I end up a patient of this hospital, other than the pleasure of taking my place as errand boy?"

"You'll be fine," Foreman reassures him. "Half of what he's up to is illegal, more than likely. You accost him and threaten to sue him, and he'll buckle under like …"

"Like a log bridge under a tank," Chase supplies.

"Oh, very well," Taub mutters. His cell phone rings. He checks the caller ID furtively and hurriedly excuses himself.

"Tweedledum and Tweedledee's battle?" Chase muses.

Foreman shakes his head. "Taub won't do it. You saw how scared he was. That's not to say that I'm not in favour of putting a damper on Cuddy's boy-toy. Even if he isn't spying on us again for House, there's no knowing what information he's carrying back to Cuddy. It might not be a bad idea for us to support Taub in this, so that Lucas learns to stay away from the team."

"So we do what?" Chase asks.

"We force a confrontation between him and Taub. Then we see how it goes."

"Uh, I'd put my money on him rather than on Taub."

"So would I - no, forget it, Chase, I didn't mean that literally - but he'll think twice before messing around with you or me once he realizes that being the boss's love interest won't protect him."

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