You are mine, and I am yours (Gregory House)

Chapter 34

2011
On March eleventh, Cameron went into labor. Reilly called Nate while Kutner and Volakis walked with Cameron to the maternity ward. Cuddy was back at work and she stopped in several times to check on her. Early in the morning on March twelfth, Cameron gave birth to a six pound, nine ounce boy. He was twenty-one inches long and had a head full of dark hair. His parents named him Ethan Nathaniel Henderson. House was the only person who didn't call Cameron by her married name. She allowed it and everyone else either called her Allison or Doctor Henderson.

House waited until Cameron's husband left and then entered her room. She held Ethan as he nursed. "Lucky kid," House smirked. Leaning heavily on his cane, he walked over to the chair beside her bed and sank down into it with a sigh. "You look good."

"Thanks," she smiled. "I feel good. All those things I heard about forgetting the pain of childbirth were lies, though. I will never forget how much it hurt. Epidurals are wonderful."

"Gonna stop you from squeezing out more?" House asked as he began to twirl his cane.

"Nope," she told him as she unsnapped her hospital gown and shifted Ethan to her other breast.

"Well, you've lost all sense of modesty," he commented as he leered at her.

She laughed. "Nothing you haven't seen before."

"Yes, but they weren't so big before. I like them. Cuddy been in to arrange a marriage between your two spawns?"

Cameron shook her head. "She's been in to visit. She's doing really well with Rachel."

"Yeah, I heard."

Cameron looked at him with shrewd eyes. "You still have a thing for her," she commented as she smoothed Ethan's hair.

"God, you sound like Reilly. I don't have a thing for Cuddy. Now her breasts....I do have a thing for them."

"Same old House," Cameron sighed.

"Comforting, isn't it?" He slowly got up. "Well, gotta go. Lots of paperwork to avoid." He looked down at Ethan with a small rare smile and gently stroked his head with his fingers. "He's nice." Then he limped out of the room.

XxXxXxXx

Cuddy entered the conference room with an armful of folders. Reilly looked up at her in surprise. "Where's House?" she asked.

"It's only eight thirty," Volakis told her from the end of the table where she sat eating her breakfast. "He never gets in before ten."

Cuddy began to hand out the patient files she held. Kutner put his coffee down and flipped it open.
"Thirty-two year old male experiencing chronic pain all over," Cuddy told them. "He's seen over a half dozen specialists over the years. None of them could find the source of the pain or stop it."

"He's drug seeking-" Volakis began.

"Wait, Amber," Reilly said as she read over the file. "He tried to commit suicide by taking all the drugs in his medicine cabinet. He's not drug seeking. They ruled out fibromyalgia, rheumatoid arthritis, chronic fatigues syndrome...jeez, some doctors are idiots."

"I admitted him," Cuddy told her. "Call me when House gets here." When Reilly looked up from the file, she was gone.

"Well, that was interesting," Kutner commented. "That's the third time this week she's been in here looking for House."

"Well, she is the boss," Volakis told him. Then she snickered. "Who has the hots for him."

"Amber," Reilly warned.

"Right, the patient," she said with a slight smile,

XxXxXxXx

When House arrived, Volakis and Kutner were running tests on the patient and Reilly was listing symptoms on the whiteboard. He threw his backpack in his office and pulled his bottle of Vicodin out. Looking at the symptoms, he dry swallowed two pills.

"You're going to destroy the lining of your esophagus if you keep taking those without water," Reilly commented as she continued to write.

"His pain gets better when pressure is applied?" he asked ignoring her comment.

"Yep."

"Cool."

"Very cool." she responded.

"Who found this delightful little gem?" he asked as he moved to the kitchenette. He grabbed his red mug and poured coffee in it. He poured in a generous amount of sugar and stirred it.

"Doctor Cuddy," Reilly told him. She capped the marker she was using and put it in the tray on the board. Cuddy walked in and House turned to look at her.

"Aren't you the busy little bee," he commented and took a sip of coffee. "This is the third case you've personally hand delivered. Need your daily dose of House, huh?" He winked at her.

"No," she said defensively. Reilly slipped out of the room, knowing what is about to happen. "Really?" House asked as he made his way over to her. He stopped and they stood so close their bodies nearly touched. "You sure about that?"

"I've just found some interesting cases," she said breathlessly.

"The breathiness of your voice along with your dilated pupils say otherwise," he said softly. She looked up at him and her lips parted slightly. House stared at her mouth and then leaned down. His lips touched hers and then they were clawing at each other as heat raced through him. She kissed him with hunger and desperation, she moaned into his mouth before deepening the kiss. Suddenly Lisa pulled back and stood gasping. Her lips were swollen and her skin was flushed. Slowly, she looked up at him before turning to leave. House touched his lip where she bit him. He looked down and saw his coffee cup on the floor in a pool of coffee. Bending down, he picked up the cup and placed it on the table then he slowly limped into his office.

XxXxXxXx

After several failed treatments, another suicide attempt by the patient and using lidocaine to try to stop his brain from sending pain signals to his body, House finally came up with the diagnosis of epilepsy. He didn't tell Cuddy. After their kiss, he began avoiding her. He knew Reilly was worried about him though she didn't say anything.

That night, House entered his apartment and tossed his backpack on the floor. He leaned back against the door and hung his head. He was exhausted. Everything was getting too complicated.

"Well, I was wonderin' when ya'd get home," Niamh said as she walked out of the kitchen. House's head shot up and he stared at her in shock. Closing his eyes tightly, he rubbed his hand over his face. He was just so tired his mind was playing tricks on him. When Niamh lived with him and he came home late, this was how she greeted him. He pushed away from the door and slowly made his way down to the bedroom.
"You can try to avoid me all ya want," Niamh said from the bedroom. She lay on her side on the bed her head propped up on her hand.

"You're dead. You took the bus instead of calling me to come get you," he said. His voice shook with anger. "I would have come to get you. Why didn't you call me?"

"Because ya had a patient," she told him with a smile. She got up and walked over to him. "I know how important the puzzle is to ya, darlin'."

"It wasn't more important than you."

She tilted her head and looked at him with sadness in her bright blue eyes. "We both know only one person is more important than your medical puzzles Greg. It's not me. We had fun. I was a good distraction from what ya really want. Who ya really want, Greg."
He walked around her and stripped off his shoes and clothes. She was lying on the bed again when he crawled beneath the covers. He turned his back on her, squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to ignore her but knew she was right.