Eikasia, RPS HL/RSL (Section 3, Pt 2) #1
Fic: Eikasia (Section 3, Pt 2/4)
Author: Nakanna Lee
Pairing: RPS HL/RSL, H/W
Rating: PG13 -- Mature
Disclaimer: None of this is true or means any harm.
A/N: This part two is longer than the others, so hopefully that makes up a bit for missing yesterday's update. Sorry for the delay!
RECAP
Section 1 (4/4):
Part One, Part Two ,Part Three, Part Four
Section 2 (4/4):
Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four
Section 3 (2/4):
Part One
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Friday, March 9, 2007
INSIDE HOSPITAL, MATERNITY WING MIDDAY
Nurses hurriedly cart a woman down the hallway. A second angle shows that Cuddy is the patient.
As crowd clears and disappears around corner, House is seen watching. Wilson is next to him. He is insistent, possibly angry. They are in the middle of a conversation.
WILSON:
Why wouldn’t you tell me something like that?
HOUSE:
This is why. You’re a mess without any objective. You’re useless.
WILSON:
(deriding)
Because it’s all about figuring out what’s wrong?
HOUSE:
That would probably be helpful.
WILSON:
So would providing a little emotional support. She’s all alone in there, scared out of her mind for herself and her child, and you’re just going to treat this like any other case?
HOUSE:
My track record’s pretty good with ‘any other cases.’ Then again, a couple of contractions aren’t exactly enough to warrant case-status. Her health has otherwise been good. She’ll be fine.
(finally notices Wilson’s appalled and fretful expression)
Oh, lighten up already. A little dilation, and even if it is more serious, it’s nothing a quick shot of terbutaline or ritodrine won’t fix. She’s been feeling some slight discomfort and contractions for the past week now-this isn’t new, not for her, not for any pregnancy.
WILSON:
What?
HOUSE:
She didn’t tell you?
(continues unheeded as Wilson gathers patience)
Oh, that’s right, you wouldn’t know, because as you’ve incessantly reminded me from the beginning, this is not your kid-
WILSON:
I have responsibilities toward them, House.
HOUSE:
All right then. Let’s schedule you some play dates. You go be Daddy for them during the week and on weekends you get to be Annoying Boyfriend for me.
WILSON:
Cuddy might go into preterm labor and you’re making this about you?
HOUSE:
Shut up. Why don’t you and Murphy’s Law get a room?
Doctor in scrubs emerges from ER and makes beeline for House and Wilson.
DOCTOR:
Excuse me, which one of you is the father?
WILSON:
I am. Is anything wrong?
DOCTOR:
Dr. Wilson. We managed to stop her contractions-
WILSON:
(relieved)
Oh, that’s good.
DOCTOR:
-But there was bleeding that raised some flags. Her placenta has begun separating from the uterus. It’s only partial, so that lowers the risk for both the mother and the fetus, but we’re going to have to do a c-section as soon as possible.
HOUSE:
What?
WILSON:
Placenta abruptio...are you sure? The baby is only at, what, twenty-eight weeks?
DOCTOR:
Survival at twenty-four weeks is low, at thirty-two it’s usually good. At twenty-eight, you're looking at a seventy-seven percent chance everything will be fine. All charts indicate both he and the mother have been in otherwise excellent health. That pushes the odds in your favor.
HOUSE:
(suddenly angry)
She was having uterine pain all this week. She didn’t mention anything? She didn’t notice any bleeding?
WILSON:
(to House)
Maybe because you told her everything was all right so you could get back to self-indulgent moping.
(to doctor)
Is she in pain? When is the surgery?
DOCTOR:
She’s being prepped for it now. We’ll let you know as soon as she’s out .
Exit Doctor.
HOUSE:
(quietly)
Wilson...
WILSON:
You idiot! You’re not some pregnancy expert, why the hell would you even pretend to know what she should and shouldn’t be concerned about?
HOUSE:
Don’t try to blame me. It was a throwaway line in one conversation. She’s a doctor, too. She was the one who didn’t say anything to all those brilliant specialists.
WILSON:
Because she trusted you! Because you didn’t give her any reason to worry!
HOUSE:
(wheeling to walk away down hall)
This is not my fault, Wilson.
WILSON:
No. It never is.
Exit House. Wilson finally leans back against wall and waits.
Pull away. End of 3.23.
* * *
“She doesn’t lose the baby, does she?” Lisa asked at the wrap of the scene. She wasn’t yet out of her self-dubbed BBC, or Baby Belly Costume. Make-up had helped lift up her loose shirt over the fake stomach-a slightly weighted bulge with popped-out belly button detail included, made of plastic, wax, and a disconcertingly life-like skin texture on the outside. It strapped neatly around her back and hips. Lisa had told Hugh at the beginning of the arc that she no longer had any questions about how it felt being pregnant.
“This thing brings along back pain and everything,” she said, patting the large bulge once it had been removed and set on a table. “At least they haven’t been giving me pills to mimic symptoms of morning sickness.”
Hugh thought of his own trip down Vicodin road David insisted would be a good idea and smirked at the season one memory. If only things were still that easy now.
He’d already freed himself from House’s attire when David corralled him with a request to stick around. It was after eleven in the evening, and Hugh had been looking to getting back to the apartment at a more reasonable time than usual. Technically he had only one night left of whatever “normal” meant to his life; Jo would be flying tomorrow morning. Hugh had avoided the thought best he could over the past week-no phone calls home, no emails; he hadn’t even opened the latest box of letters, pictures, tapes, and cigarettes the family had sent him from England. He felt two-faced otherwise. The cardboard package remained in the far corner of the bedroom, untouched, still tightly sealed with an array of bright stamps across the top.
Stephen had stayed around since Wednesday, but earlier today he’d given Hugh space for the weekend and moved back into a hotel for the time being.
“Bob says you guys want to talk finale plotlines,” David explained as Hugh followed him back to the little makeshift office he had offset.
“And we couldn’t do this at some other hour?” Hugh asked tiredly.
“It shouldn’t take long. Bob’s been bothering me about this for the past week, and if we’re going to edit anything in the finale, we should look into that now before shooting starts next week. So let’s just settle what needs settling.”
Hugh entered the room and was surprised to find Lisa sitting beside Robert as well. He took the seat next to her, trying a smile, and offered a nod to Robert. David grabbed his desk chair and moved it to join their circle. It was a small gesture of camaraderie, but after a long, hard stretch of three seasons, Hugh thought it was good progression. He was always slightly suspicious of writers and directors who needed to sit behind their desk or camera to retain control.
“So,” David said with some amusement, looking deliberately from Hugh to Robert, “is this another coup you arranged?”
Hugh chuckled a bit because it seemed like the appropriate thing to do.
“We want the House/Wilson arc to end,” Robert said directly. Hugh felt Lisa brace between them.
“Well that’s what direction we were planning on heading,” David agreed. “A rift has been set up at the end of this episode we just finished shooting. That’s going to expand some more in the finale. We don’t anticipate having them romantically involved at the start of season four.”
Hearing David say it sounded over-simplified. For a brief instant, second thoughts crept into Hugh’s mind. He pushed them away.
“We’re just concerned about how it’s exactly going to work,” Hugh said. “We don’t think it needs fireworks or ribbons or bows. Just something simple that won’t be such an insurmountable burden to their friendship after they’ve split.”
“And Lisa, you’re here for the baby storyline, right?”
She nodded. Hugh thought that was only half-true.
“As we’ve set up, both those storylines intertwine. They can’t not, what with Wilson’s involvement in both Cuddy and House’s lives.” David sat easily in his chair, and a sudden image of a puppet-master flashed through Hugh’s head. David and the other writers were blissfully ignorant of the actual puppets they controlled, content to see the shadows ripple on the wall; but the puppets themselves had back stories, and ones that mattered-real life ones. Watching shadows overlap with those were surreal, unnerving.
“Jacob is going to take Wilson away from House, right?” Robert asked.
“Jacob?” David looked at him, puzzled. “Oh, yes, that was the name we decided on. Your idea, wasn’t it, Bob? Well we might not use the name after all. A baby is a hard thing to write in. We’d have to deal with how long Cuddy would be absent for; if she’d be absent at all-we could move the timeline ahead a couple months so she’s back working. But then who would be watching the kid? How often do we see the baby, every episode, every couple episodes? Even if he’s not in the shot, we’d need to allude to him now and then so the audience doesn’t forget he exists somewhere. And what storylines would or could a child bring to the other characters? How does Cuddy change? How do Wilson and House change?”
“She’s not going to lose the baby, is she?” Lisa asked again.
David frowned with consideration. “That’s what we’re leaning towards now. We’re afraid adding a child will interfere with the feel and balance of the show.”
Hugh was about to steer conversation back towards House and Wilson, but Lisa interrupted.
“I think that’s a mistake, David,” she said. “This Cuddy & Baby arc has been building since mid-season two. We had an entire season three’s worth of it. To just suddenly crush it-especially when there’s been no foreshadowing of problems even going into the cesarean-that doesn’t seem fair. Not for Cuddy. And not for viewers who are going to wonder why the carpet was yanked out from under them.”
“Do you think the majority of viewers would be interested in seeing Cuddy with a child?”
Lisa paused. “I honestly don’t know. But we need to preserve a trust relationship with people who watch the show. If storylines end so abruptly and negatively, without warning, we’re going to lose some of that trust. And it’s going to absolutely sour the mood of the finale.”
David leaned back in his chair, apparently not expecting Lisa to have such a firm position against the direction writers were leaning. Changing the conversation must have seemed a more productive route.
“And you both? Any thoughts on that issue?” he prompted.
Hugh actually hadn’t given it much thought, his mind occupied with other more pressing issues.
“Cuddy needs the baby,” Robert said. “For the sake of how House and Wilson end up, that baby needs to be there.”
“And why is that?”
“Because, look at it this way. You’re planning on having Wilson drift away from House to comfort Cuddy after she loses Jacob, right? Not necessarily in a romantic sense, he could be there just as a friend. It doesn’t matter. House will be jealous either way and push Wilson away. Plus he’ll feel like shit for not paying more attention to the pregnancy. Am I close?”
“We haven’t worked out all the details yet, but yes, Tom was writing something more or less like that.”
Robert shook his head. “All of that is just too dark for a finale. It’s dramatic but pushes the characters into this...almost this nihilistic hole where they’re all going to be imprisoned to for the summer. And like Lisa says, it leaves the season on such a low note. All changes have been for the negative.”
“Hugh?” David looked towards him. “What do you think? Losing a baby too much for the finale, or is it going to be more trouble to write in a kid for season four?”
Hugh glanced over at Robert and Lisa, who had given this much more thought than he had. It hadn’t even occurred to him that Cuddy might lose the child. It seemed grossly unfair the more he considered it now. They would have to devote an entire season four to Cuddy recovering from it, or otherwise cheapen the extent of what the characters endured over season three.
“I agree with Lisa about the importance of trust. I also understand Robert’s points.”
“You want to keep the baby too?” David asked.
“What about working it like this?” Hugh began after a moment. “The baby-Jacob-he is safely delivered. Of course he is early, so whether or not there are any problems, his need to be cared for has just risen exponentially. Wilson does have responsibility, as he has said, towards this child, and Cuddy is happy to have him, even though she has said she wants to be a single-parent.”
“And so House pushes Wilson away out of envy,” David completed.
“No, not quite. That’s too simple. House is far more layered than that. Yes, of course he’s jealous that Wilson is no longer singularly doting upon him. But House sees Wilson in another light with this child. He sees him as a father; and with Cuddy, Wilson for once has settled into a functional and happy family structure. That’s something Wilson will never fully get with House, and House knows that.” He looked over to Robert for support, for understanding, and for something in Hugh’s words that was Robert’s solely. “So he pushed Wilson away because he thought he was burdening him as well.”
Robert glanced down. “Of course that’s House eliminating his chance at happiness,” he added, “but he’s sabotaged himself plenty of times before. He’s too insecure to chance what makes him content.”
“Cuddy wouldn’t deliberately take Wilson away from House,” Lisa interjected, unintentionally snapping the unspoken chord that strung from Hugh to Robert. “In fact I think she sees them together as a good thing for both of them. She’d send Wilson back to House before she’d let Jacob come between the men.”
David sighed, checking his watch. “Okay, well that’s an aspect of this baby storyline that would be discussed later. Right now we’re just concerned about whether or not the kid is born, and how that dictates House and Wilson’s separation.” He rose from his seat and stretched. “It’s been a good meeting, a good shoot. It’s almost twelve. Go home and relax, we’ll pick this up Monday.”
“So is Jacob going to make it?” Lisa pressed.
“Don’t lose sleep over it. I’ll talk to Tom tomorrow, get some more opinions. We’ll let you know as soon as we do. Oh, and Hugh-for god’s sakes, get another form of transportation that has more than two wheels and an engine. I saw the bike in the parking lot this morning. Didn’t we have some sort of contract about that?”
“Have you ever ridden a motorcycle before?” Hugh asked. “You’ll never want to use anything else afterwards.”
“If only you were a shitty actor. Then I wouldn’t give a damn,” David returned without missing a beat. He gestured to Robert and Lisa. “Take a ride home with one of them. You look exhausted, Hugh. That can’t be safe flying down Route 5. Pick the bike up tomorrow when you’re more awake.”
Lisa squeezed his arm as they walked towards the exit. “Come on, Hugh. It’s no problem.”
“Actually-” Hugh looked for Robert, unsure at how he’d be received, but the need to at least make an attempt pulsed at his temples. He hoped Stephen was right. “I believe Bobby is less out of the way.” Robert stopped to stare at him while Lisa, surprised, slipped away. Hugh gestured aimlessly. “That is, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“No. No, that’s fine.” Robert changed direction to join Hugh’s side next to Lisa as they stepped out into the cooling, late night air. They waved good nights to David, then Lisa, and after a short walk across the parking lot Hugh found himself in the Jetta’s familiar front seat with Robert at the wheel.
Minutes passed in silence. Hugh watched the sway of the yellow air freshener, vanilla-scented, and listened to the pleasant hum of the car engine, how the tone changed slightly at braking and accelerating.
“Where exactly are we going?” Robert said finally.
“Funny question from the driver,” Hugh replied. He looked over but Robert kept his eyes on the road.
“Are we going to West Hollywood or Santa Monica, Hugh?” he asked. A person who didn’t know him well at all would mistake his quietness for apathy, but the subtly strained question sent a jolt along Hugh’s body.
He would, Hugh realized, and the thought terrified and thrilled him. Robert would take him back in bed in an instant.
“West Hollywood,” Hugh said. He barely considered before adding hastily, “But do you suppose we could find a place to stop for coffee first?”
Robert remained silent until eventually murmuring how caffeine after twelve was a bad idea, even as he pulled into a twenty-four hour diner. Hugh recognized the area. It was about fifteen minutes from Robert’s.
Section Three, Part Two continued: http://nakannalee.livejournal.com/31315.html
Author: Nakanna Lee
Pairing: RPS HL/RSL, H/W
Rating: PG13 -- Mature
Disclaimer: None of this is true or means any harm.
A/N: This part two is longer than the others, so hopefully that makes up a bit for missing yesterday's update. Sorry for the delay!
RECAP
Section 1 (4/4):
Part One, Part Two ,Part Three, Part Four
Section 2 (4/4):
Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four
Section 3 (2/4):
Part One
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Friday, March 9, 2007
INSIDE HOSPITAL, MATERNITY WING MIDDAY
Nurses hurriedly cart a woman down the hallway. A second angle shows that Cuddy is the patient.
As crowd clears and disappears around corner, House is seen watching. Wilson is next to him. He is insistent, possibly angry. They are in the middle of a conversation.
WILSON:
Why wouldn’t you tell me something like that?
HOUSE:
This is why. You’re a mess without any objective. You’re useless.
WILSON:
(deriding)
Because it’s all about figuring out what’s wrong?
HOUSE:
That would probably be helpful.
WILSON:
So would providing a little emotional support. She’s all alone in there, scared out of her mind for herself and her child, and you’re just going to treat this like any other case?
HOUSE:
My track record’s pretty good with ‘any other cases.’ Then again, a couple of contractions aren’t exactly enough to warrant case-status. Her health has otherwise been good. She’ll be fine.
(finally notices Wilson’s appalled and fretful expression)
Oh, lighten up already. A little dilation, and even if it is more serious, it’s nothing a quick shot of terbutaline or ritodrine won’t fix. She’s been feeling some slight discomfort and contractions for the past week now-this isn’t new, not for her, not for any pregnancy.
WILSON:
What?
HOUSE:
She didn’t tell you?
(continues unheeded as Wilson gathers patience)
Oh, that’s right, you wouldn’t know, because as you’ve incessantly reminded me from the beginning, this is not your kid-
WILSON:
I have responsibilities toward them, House.
HOUSE:
All right then. Let’s schedule you some play dates. You go be Daddy for them during the week and on weekends you get to be Annoying Boyfriend for me.
WILSON:
Cuddy might go into preterm labor and you’re making this about you?
HOUSE:
Shut up. Why don’t you and Murphy’s Law get a room?
Doctor in scrubs emerges from ER and makes beeline for House and Wilson.
DOCTOR:
Excuse me, which one of you is the father?
WILSON:
I am. Is anything wrong?
DOCTOR:
Dr. Wilson. We managed to stop her contractions-
WILSON:
(relieved)
Oh, that’s good.
DOCTOR:
-But there was bleeding that raised some flags. Her placenta has begun separating from the uterus. It’s only partial, so that lowers the risk for both the mother and the fetus, but we’re going to have to do a c-section as soon as possible.
HOUSE:
What?
WILSON:
Placenta abruptio...are you sure? The baby is only at, what, twenty-eight weeks?
DOCTOR:
Survival at twenty-four weeks is low, at thirty-two it’s usually good. At twenty-eight, you're looking at a seventy-seven percent chance everything will be fine. All charts indicate both he and the mother have been in otherwise excellent health. That pushes the odds in your favor.
HOUSE:
(suddenly angry)
She was having uterine pain all this week. She didn’t mention anything? She didn’t notice any bleeding?
WILSON:
(to House)
Maybe because you told her everything was all right so you could get back to self-indulgent moping.
(to doctor)
Is she in pain? When is the surgery?
DOCTOR:
She’s being prepped for it now. We’ll let you know as soon as she’s out .
Exit Doctor.
HOUSE:
(quietly)
Wilson...
WILSON:
You idiot! You’re not some pregnancy expert, why the hell would you even pretend to know what she should and shouldn’t be concerned about?
HOUSE:
Don’t try to blame me. It was a throwaway line in one conversation. She’s a doctor, too. She was the one who didn’t say anything to all those brilliant specialists.
WILSON:
Because she trusted you! Because you didn’t give her any reason to worry!
HOUSE:
(wheeling to walk away down hall)
This is not my fault, Wilson.
WILSON:
No. It never is.
Exit House. Wilson finally leans back against wall and waits.
Pull away. End of 3.23.
* * *
“She doesn’t lose the baby, does she?” Lisa asked at the wrap of the scene. She wasn’t yet out of her self-dubbed BBC, or Baby Belly Costume. Make-up had helped lift up her loose shirt over the fake stomach-a slightly weighted bulge with popped-out belly button detail included, made of plastic, wax, and a disconcertingly life-like skin texture on the outside. It strapped neatly around her back and hips. Lisa had told Hugh at the beginning of the arc that she no longer had any questions about how it felt being pregnant.
“This thing brings along back pain and everything,” she said, patting the large bulge once it had been removed and set on a table. “At least they haven’t been giving me pills to mimic symptoms of morning sickness.”
Hugh thought of his own trip down Vicodin road David insisted would be a good idea and smirked at the season one memory. If only things were still that easy now.
He’d already freed himself from House’s attire when David corralled him with a request to stick around. It was after eleven in the evening, and Hugh had been looking to getting back to the apartment at a more reasonable time than usual. Technically he had only one night left of whatever “normal” meant to his life; Jo would be flying tomorrow morning. Hugh had avoided the thought best he could over the past week-no phone calls home, no emails; he hadn’t even opened the latest box of letters, pictures, tapes, and cigarettes the family had sent him from England. He felt two-faced otherwise. The cardboard package remained in the far corner of the bedroom, untouched, still tightly sealed with an array of bright stamps across the top.
Stephen had stayed around since Wednesday, but earlier today he’d given Hugh space for the weekend and moved back into a hotel for the time being.
“Bob says you guys want to talk finale plotlines,” David explained as Hugh followed him back to the little makeshift office he had offset.
“And we couldn’t do this at some other hour?” Hugh asked tiredly.
“It shouldn’t take long. Bob’s been bothering me about this for the past week, and if we’re going to edit anything in the finale, we should look into that now before shooting starts next week. So let’s just settle what needs settling.”
Hugh entered the room and was surprised to find Lisa sitting beside Robert as well. He took the seat next to her, trying a smile, and offered a nod to Robert. David grabbed his desk chair and moved it to join their circle. It was a small gesture of camaraderie, but after a long, hard stretch of three seasons, Hugh thought it was good progression. He was always slightly suspicious of writers and directors who needed to sit behind their desk or camera to retain control.
“So,” David said with some amusement, looking deliberately from Hugh to Robert, “is this another coup you arranged?”
Hugh chuckled a bit because it seemed like the appropriate thing to do.
“We want the House/Wilson arc to end,” Robert said directly. Hugh felt Lisa brace between them.
“Well that’s what direction we were planning on heading,” David agreed. “A rift has been set up at the end of this episode we just finished shooting. That’s going to expand some more in the finale. We don’t anticipate having them romantically involved at the start of season four.”
Hearing David say it sounded over-simplified. For a brief instant, second thoughts crept into Hugh’s mind. He pushed them away.
“We’re just concerned about how it’s exactly going to work,” Hugh said. “We don’t think it needs fireworks or ribbons or bows. Just something simple that won’t be such an insurmountable burden to their friendship after they’ve split.”
“And Lisa, you’re here for the baby storyline, right?”
She nodded. Hugh thought that was only half-true.
“As we’ve set up, both those storylines intertwine. They can’t not, what with Wilson’s involvement in both Cuddy and House’s lives.” David sat easily in his chair, and a sudden image of a puppet-master flashed through Hugh’s head. David and the other writers were blissfully ignorant of the actual puppets they controlled, content to see the shadows ripple on the wall; but the puppets themselves had back stories, and ones that mattered-real life ones. Watching shadows overlap with those were surreal, unnerving.
“Jacob is going to take Wilson away from House, right?” Robert asked.
“Jacob?” David looked at him, puzzled. “Oh, yes, that was the name we decided on. Your idea, wasn’t it, Bob? Well we might not use the name after all. A baby is a hard thing to write in. We’d have to deal with how long Cuddy would be absent for; if she’d be absent at all-we could move the timeline ahead a couple months so she’s back working. But then who would be watching the kid? How often do we see the baby, every episode, every couple episodes? Even if he’s not in the shot, we’d need to allude to him now and then so the audience doesn’t forget he exists somewhere. And what storylines would or could a child bring to the other characters? How does Cuddy change? How do Wilson and House change?”
“She’s not going to lose the baby, is she?” Lisa asked again.
David frowned with consideration. “That’s what we’re leaning towards now. We’re afraid adding a child will interfere with the feel and balance of the show.”
Hugh was about to steer conversation back towards House and Wilson, but Lisa interrupted.
“I think that’s a mistake, David,” she said. “This Cuddy & Baby arc has been building since mid-season two. We had an entire season three’s worth of it. To just suddenly crush it-especially when there’s been no foreshadowing of problems even going into the cesarean-that doesn’t seem fair. Not for Cuddy. And not for viewers who are going to wonder why the carpet was yanked out from under them.”
“Do you think the majority of viewers would be interested in seeing Cuddy with a child?”
Lisa paused. “I honestly don’t know. But we need to preserve a trust relationship with people who watch the show. If storylines end so abruptly and negatively, without warning, we’re going to lose some of that trust. And it’s going to absolutely sour the mood of the finale.”
David leaned back in his chair, apparently not expecting Lisa to have such a firm position against the direction writers were leaning. Changing the conversation must have seemed a more productive route.
“And you both? Any thoughts on that issue?” he prompted.
Hugh actually hadn’t given it much thought, his mind occupied with other more pressing issues.
“Cuddy needs the baby,” Robert said. “For the sake of how House and Wilson end up, that baby needs to be there.”
“And why is that?”
“Because, look at it this way. You’re planning on having Wilson drift away from House to comfort Cuddy after she loses Jacob, right? Not necessarily in a romantic sense, he could be there just as a friend. It doesn’t matter. House will be jealous either way and push Wilson away. Plus he’ll feel like shit for not paying more attention to the pregnancy. Am I close?”
“We haven’t worked out all the details yet, but yes, Tom was writing something more or less like that.”
Robert shook his head. “All of that is just too dark for a finale. It’s dramatic but pushes the characters into this...almost this nihilistic hole where they’re all going to be imprisoned to for the summer. And like Lisa says, it leaves the season on such a low note. All changes have been for the negative.”
“Hugh?” David looked towards him. “What do you think? Losing a baby too much for the finale, or is it going to be more trouble to write in a kid for season four?”
Hugh glanced over at Robert and Lisa, who had given this much more thought than he had. It hadn’t even occurred to him that Cuddy might lose the child. It seemed grossly unfair the more he considered it now. They would have to devote an entire season four to Cuddy recovering from it, or otherwise cheapen the extent of what the characters endured over season three.
“I agree with Lisa about the importance of trust. I also understand Robert’s points.”
“You want to keep the baby too?” David asked.
“What about working it like this?” Hugh began after a moment. “The baby-Jacob-he is safely delivered. Of course he is early, so whether or not there are any problems, his need to be cared for has just risen exponentially. Wilson does have responsibility, as he has said, towards this child, and Cuddy is happy to have him, even though she has said she wants to be a single-parent.”
“And so House pushes Wilson away out of envy,” David completed.
“No, not quite. That’s too simple. House is far more layered than that. Yes, of course he’s jealous that Wilson is no longer singularly doting upon him. But House sees Wilson in another light with this child. He sees him as a father; and with Cuddy, Wilson for once has settled into a functional and happy family structure. That’s something Wilson will never fully get with House, and House knows that.” He looked over to Robert for support, for understanding, and for something in Hugh’s words that was Robert’s solely. “So he pushed Wilson away because he thought he was burdening him as well.”
Robert glanced down. “Of course that’s House eliminating his chance at happiness,” he added, “but he’s sabotaged himself plenty of times before. He’s too insecure to chance what makes him content.”
“Cuddy wouldn’t deliberately take Wilson away from House,” Lisa interjected, unintentionally snapping the unspoken chord that strung from Hugh to Robert. “In fact I think she sees them together as a good thing for both of them. She’d send Wilson back to House before she’d let Jacob come between the men.”
David sighed, checking his watch. “Okay, well that’s an aspect of this baby storyline that would be discussed later. Right now we’re just concerned about whether or not the kid is born, and how that dictates House and Wilson’s separation.” He rose from his seat and stretched. “It’s been a good meeting, a good shoot. It’s almost twelve. Go home and relax, we’ll pick this up Monday.”
“So is Jacob going to make it?” Lisa pressed.
“Don’t lose sleep over it. I’ll talk to Tom tomorrow, get some more opinions. We’ll let you know as soon as we do. Oh, and Hugh-for god’s sakes, get another form of transportation that has more than two wheels and an engine. I saw the bike in the parking lot this morning. Didn’t we have some sort of contract about that?”
“Have you ever ridden a motorcycle before?” Hugh asked. “You’ll never want to use anything else afterwards.”
“If only you were a shitty actor. Then I wouldn’t give a damn,” David returned without missing a beat. He gestured to Robert and Lisa. “Take a ride home with one of them. You look exhausted, Hugh. That can’t be safe flying down Route 5. Pick the bike up tomorrow when you’re more awake.”
Lisa squeezed his arm as they walked towards the exit. “Come on, Hugh. It’s no problem.”
“Actually-” Hugh looked for Robert, unsure at how he’d be received, but the need to at least make an attempt pulsed at his temples. He hoped Stephen was right. “I believe Bobby is less out of the way.” Robert stopped to stare at him while Lisa, surprised, slipped away. Hugh gestured aimlessly. “That is, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“No. No, that’s fine.” Robert changed direction to join Hugh’s side next to Lisa as they stepped out into the cooling, late night air. They waved good nights to David, then Lisa, and after a short walk across the parking lot Hugh found himself in the Jetta’s familiar front seat with Robert at the wheel.
Minutes passed in silence. Hugh watched the sway of the yellow air freshener, vanilla-scented, and listened to the pleasant hum of the car engine, how the tone changed slightly at braking and accelerating.
“Where exactly are we going?” Robert said finally.
“Funny question from the driver,” Hugh replied. He looked over but Robert kept his eyes on the road.
“Are we going to West Hollywood or Santa Monica, Hugh?” he asked. A person who didn’t know him well at all would mistake his quietness for apathy, but the subtly strained question sent a jolt along Hugh’s body.
He would, Hugh realized, and the thought terrified and thrilled him. Robert would take him back in bed in an instant.
“West Hollywood,” Hugh said. He barely considered before adding hastily, “But do you suppose we could find a place to stop for coffee first?”
Robert remained silent until eventually murmuring how caffeine after twelve was a bad idea, even as he pulled into a twenty-four hour diner. Hugh recognized the area. It was about fifteen minutes from Robert’s.
Section Three, Part Two continued: http://nakannalee.livejournal.com/31315.html