Remorse
He is in her office hiding from Wilson's good intentions. He likes being in her space - the feeling of her energy invades it and the anticipation of being caught by her amplifies it.
His has just laid down on the couch when his pager goes off and he unclips it to read the message on the screen.
He sits up and calls the team from the phone on her coffee table.
He is mid sentence when his eyes fall on the framed pictures a few inches away from him.
Cuddy has never been one to keep personal pictures in such a conspicuous place; there's not even a picture of her and Rachel so prominently on display in her office. So it surprises him to see the picture of her and Lucas sitting there in the middle of her coffee table.
He picks up the one in question and studies it while he leads the DDX.
Cuddy and Lucas are standing in front of a fireplace, their arms around each other. This time, they are both looking at the camera and smiling. His eyes scan their clothes - she is pretty well covered up, which is frankly shocking, and he has on a tie that would give any of Wilson's a run for their money in an ugly accessories pageant.
That they seem happy together - comfortable -and it depresses him.
He is about to put the picture down when something about the tie and his comment about Forteen's breakup makes him pause.
He focuses on the tie, wondering where he's seen it before.
When it hits him, the realization that it was the night he broke into Lucas' apartment and that meant the photo had been taken during Thanksgiving, it fills him with a myriad of emotions. Chief among them, a childish urge to deface the picture.
He picks up the photograph sitting next to it - it is a picture of a younger Cuddy in overalls holding a monkey - and holds them side by side. It's certainly auspicious that this picture will serve his purposes so well and suddenly, he can't tamp down the urge to act like a child.
He sits both of the frames down, gets up and walks to her desk to get a pair of scissors and some tape as he continues the DDX.
He finds them both easily and returns to the couch.
He dismantles the frames and pulls out the pictures. He picks up the scissors and gives his team instructions before hanging up the call. Carefully he cuts out Lucas' head from one photo and the monkey's head from the other and switches them, taping them into place.
He puts the altered photos back into their respective frames and briefly admires his masterpieces before he hustles himself out of her office; now, all of a sudden, not so eager to be caught in here.
-
He checks the slip of paper again, and confirms the address for the third time, but makes no move to get out. Instead, he continues sitting parked outside Wibberley's house.
It's much easier to do this - make amends to some guy he cares nothing about - than to avoid Cuddy for the rest of the day at the hospital.
Not that that would have been hard as she's been avoiding him since the night on the balcony.
He wasn't surprised.
It's how they have always dealt with each other; one of the many constants that seem to define their relationship - avoidance.
The little scene in the clinic earlier was unexpected though.
It wasn't exactly the depth of attention he wanted from her and he'd been caught off guard by the feelings of guilt that flooded him when she mentioned her father.
He rubs his hand over his eyes; this is certainly not the way to get back on an even keel with her.
She had always been a daddy's girl and he knew how hard her father's death hit her. If he had known the photo had any connection to her father, he wouldn't have touched it.
He had only been in her office to force her hand - to push her to stop feeling like she couldn't be around him. That's what he'd intended, for her to find him in her office and instigate a minor argument, not to give her another reason to hate him.
-
"You wanted to see me?" she asks adjusting her scarf as she moves her bag to her other hand and stands apprehensively in his doorway.
He looks up, surprise evident in his face to see her standing there. He just sent her an email asking her to talk sometime tomorrow. "I thought you would be gone home already,” he admits.
"I was. Well, I was on my way to my car and making a note about a meeting tomorrow on my Blackberry when your email came through," she says, slightly chagrined. "So I came back. What do you want to talk about?"
The corner of his mouth lifts thoughtfully; she never does stop working. He should have known she might still be here and though he doesn't want to do this now - he would have liked the night to prepare - he is probably as ready as he ever would be.
He looks at her for several seconds before clearing his throat.
He leans over and opens his desk drawer, removing a manila envelope and sets it on his desk. "Do you want to sit down?" he asks and directs his gaze to the chair in front of his desk.
She crosses the room, removes her scarf, and drapes it across the back of the chair before she places her bag on the floor beside it and sits looking at him expectantly.
"A few months ago as part of my therapy, I was asked to write a letter of apology to someone I hurt. The list was long, but I was able to narrow it down to one lucky soul."
"I know," she smiles gently. "It's been the topic du jour this past week for Wilson."
He rolls his eyes. Of course Wilson would go whining to Cuddy. "Of course it was," he says with exasperation. "Look, I know that-"
"House, I don't need you to apologize," Cuddy cuts him off, holding up a hand.
"I'm not trying to-" he begins.
"You don't apologize. It's not who you are. And I don't expect an apology from you." She continues, "I know-"
"Stop!" he bursts out. "Stop telling me who I was. I know who I was. This is about who I am now - who I'm trying to be," he finishes forcefully.
Her back stiffens in her chair and she looks at him with a mixture of doubt and hope. "House-"
"Look. I'm not asking for absolution for my past actions or for this. But I need you to know that I feel remorse for them. For what I did the other day," he sighs. No longer able to hold her gaze, he picks up the envelope and extends it towards her. "Here."
She looks at it for a few beats before she takes it from him.
"It's the address for the best photo restoration company in New York City. I've already made arrangements for payment. There are some materials in there. You just need to send it in," he tells her.
She sets the envelope on her lap, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she listens to him. There's a lot she could say - things she wants to ask, but she doesn't. She can't let this one time he's not an asshole mean something, but if he's trying, maybe she should too.
"Thank you," she finally tells him. "I need to get home," she adds tilting her wrist and noting the time.
He nods and watches as she puts the envelope in her bag and stands to leave.
She takes her scarf from the back of the chair and winds it around her neck. "I'll see you tomorrow," she says in parting.
"Yeah," he replies and knows that they're okay.
His eyes track her as she exits his office and walks past the glass walls of the conference room to the elevators.
His has just laid down on the couch when his pager goes off and he unclips it to read the message on the screen.
He sits up and calls the team from the phone on her coffee table.
He is mid sentence when his eyes fall on the framed pictures a few inches away from him.
Cuddy has never been one to keep personal pictures in such a conspicuous place; there's not even a picture of her and Rachel so prominently on display in her office. So it surprises him to see the picture of her and Lucas sitting there in the middle of her coffee table.
He picks up the one in question and studies it while he leads the DDX.
Cuddy and Lucas are standing in front of a fireplace, their arms around each other. This time, they are both looking at the camera and smiling. His eyes scan their clothes - she is pretty well covered up, which is frankly shocking, and he has on a tie that would give any of Wilson's a run for their money in an ugly accessories pageant.
That they seem happy together - comfortable -and it depresses him.
He is about to put the picture down when something about the tie and his comment about Forteen's breakup makes him pause.
He focuses on the tie, wondering where he's seen it before.
When it hits him, the realization that it was the night he broke into Lucas' apartment and that meant the photo had been taken during Thanksgiving, it fills him with a myriad of emotions. Chief among them, a childish urge to deface the picture.
He picks up the photograph sitting next to it - it is a picture of a younger Cuddy in overalls holding a monkey - and holds them side by side. It's certainly auspicious that this picture will serve his purposes so well and suddenly, he can't tamp down the urge to act like a child.
He sits both of the frames down, gets up and walks to her desk to get a pair of scissors and some tape as he continues the DDX.
He finds them both easily and returns to the couch.
He dismantles the frames and pulls out the pictures. He picks up the scissors and gives his team instructions before hanging up the call. Carefully he cuts out Lucas' head from one photo and the monkey's head from the other and switches them, taping them into place.
He puts the altered photos back into their respective frames and briefly admires his masterpieces before he hustles himself out of her office; now, all of a sudden, not so eager to be caught in here.
-
He checks the slip of paper again, and confirms the address for the third time, but makes no move to get out. Instead, he continues sitting parked outside Wibberley's house.
It's much easier to do this - make amends to some guy he cares nothing about - than to avoid Cuddy for the rest of the day at the hospital.
Not that that would have been hard as she's been avoiding him since the night on the balcony.
He wasn't surprised.
It's how they have always dealt with each other; one of the many constants that seem to define their relationship - avoidance.
The little scene in the clinic earlier was unexpected though.
It wasn't exactly the depth of attention he wanted from her and he'd been caught off guard by the feelings of guilt that flooded him when she mentioned her father.
He rubs his hand over his eyes; this is certainly not the way to get back on an even keel with her.
She had always been a daddy's girl and he knew how hard her father's death hit her. If he had known the photo had any connection to her father, he wouldn't have touched it.
He had only been in her office to force her hand - to push her to stop feeling like she couldn't be around him. That's what he'd intended, for her to find him in her office and instigate a minor argument, not to give her another reason to hate him.
-
"You wanted to see me?" she asks adjusting her scarf as she moves her bag to her other hand and stands apprehensively in his doorway.
He looks up, surprise evident in his face to see her standing there. He just sent her an email asking her to talk sometime tomorrow. "I thought you would be gone home already,” he admits.
"I was. Well, I was on my way to my car and making a note about a meeting tomorrow on my Blackberry when your email came through," she says, slightly chagrined. "So I came back. What do you want to talk about?"
The corner of his mouth lifts thoughtfully; she never does stop working. He should have known she might still be here and though he doesn't want to do this now - he would have liked the night to prepare - he is probably as ready as he ever would be.
He looks at her for several seconds before clearing his throat.
He leans over and opens his desk drawer, removing a manila envelope and sets it on his desk. "Do you want to sit down?" he asks and directs his gaze to the chair in front of his desk.
She crosses the room, removes her scarf, and drapes it across the back of the chair before she places her bag on the floor beside it and sits looking at him expectantly.
"A few months ago as part of my therapy, I was asked to write a letter of apology to someone I hurt. The list was long, but I was able to narrow it down to one lucky soul."
"I know," she smiles gently. "It's been the topic du jour this past week for Wilson."
He rolls his eyes. Of course Wilson would go whining to Cuddy. "Of course it was," he says with exasperation. "Look, I know that-"
"House, I don't need you to apologize," Cuddy cuts him off, holding up a hand.
"I'm not trying to-" he begins.
"You don't apologize. It's not who you are. And I don't expect an apology from you." She continues, "I know-"
"Stop!" he bursts out. "Stop telling me who I was. I know who I was. This is about who I am now - who I'm trying to be," he finishes forcefully.
Her back stiffens in her chair and she looks at him with a mixture of doubt and hope. "House-"
"Look. I'm not asking for absolution for my past actions or for this. But I need you to know that I feel remorse for them. For what I did the other day," he sighs. No longer able to hold her gaze, he picks up the envelope and extends it towards her. "Here."
She looks at it for a few beats before she takes it from him.
"It's the address for the best photo restoration company in New York City. I've already made arrangements for payment. There are some materials in there. You just need to send it in," he tells her.
She sets the envelope on her lap, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she listens to him. There's a lot she could say - things she wants to ask, but she doesn't. She can't let this one time he's not an asshole mean something, but if he's trying, maybe she should too.
"Thank you," she finally tells him. "I need to get home," she adds tilting her wrist and noting the time.
He nods and watches as she puts the envelope in her bag and stands to leave.
She takes her scarf from the back of the chair and winds it around her neck. "I'll see you tomorrow," she says in parting.
"Yeah," he replies and knows that they're okay.
His eyes track her as she exits his office and walks past the glass walls of the conference room to the elevators.