Discalimer: House M'D doesn not belong to me neither do any of it's characters. I'm just dressing them up and feeding them my lines in hopes that I won't get sued and because it oh so satisfying.
The Woman Behind the Green Curtain
To work in a glass hospital you have to be aware you are always being watched.
Cuddy sits at her desk she glances towards her glass door, peers over the piles of paper work. Her hand slowly tapping a pen on the desk, a slow steady beat, she is having one of those rare moments that she only sometimes lets herself indulge in, only when it's been a hard day, it's dark out and she knows there is hardly anyone else around.
She shifts her naked feet under the desk, brushing against her pumps thoughtfully, sometimes she wakes up to find that the hospital has consumed her, she looks around for any remnants of 'Lisa' but all she can find is 'Dr. Cuddy', perhaps the worrying things is that she accepts that. It's ok for her to loose herself because her work is important.
Lately she has been finding herself repeating that mantra over and over again in her head.
It doesn't seem to make much difference.
Cuddy blinks rapidly and slips back into the office, once again the paperwork glares it her, almost over powering. It beckons her, or maybe she beckons it, it's difficult to tell but the end result is always the same.
Her feet brush past her pumps again and she thinks
'Fuck it, I'm going home'
Diligently she slips her feet back into her killer heels, gathers her hand bag; car keys, coat and heads for the door. She hesitates as she is confronted with her reflection, she looks tired and conquered. Her mind retaliates. It's been a long day. She thinks that it has been a long week; a long month… it has just been too long.
The car park greets her, she walks to her car and gets in, briefly she rests her head on the steering wheel and is glad that no one else is her to notice her small surrender to the overwhelming ness of hospital life. Just for a moment longer, she thinks and then raises her eyes to the road and slides her key home.
Home to an empty house, not something that sounds particularly welcoming but the idea is comforting to her, she has already used up all her energy administrating and putting things in their correct places, there is nothing left for her to give to anyone else right now.
She never had been all that good at relationships, not to say that she hadn't had her fair share she was beautiful still is. But relationships hadn't been one of her strong points, turned out she was too dedicated to her study, to her job, to her profession. Not a lot has changed since then.
Dragging her heels Cuddy walks into her bedroom and puts away her shoes, neatly in her closet lined up to their sisters they march silently and she closes the wardrobe door with their image still pressed into her brain. She should probably eat, she heads to the fridge and passes the wine rack pauses and retrieves a red.
She doesn't end up eating but she does manage to put away most of the bottle before she realizes that she should stop. Then all these things that she should do wind around in her brain.
She should probably go to bed now, it's late already.
She should probably stop working late at the Hospital; it's taking over everything she owns.
She should also seek out a relationship, any kind of relationship she has so little time for human contact at the moment.
She should probably take a break
She should probably stop enjoying House's comments about her low cut shirts, her thighs and most defiantly her 'fun bags'.
House, he is one of those little guilty indulgences she lets herself have, Mind you she never takes it too far. He is too similar in temperament to her for them to ever work out although she imagines it would be very interesting to try, they do have great sex and they have known each other for a long time, old friends almost. They used to be old friends back when Wilson was still on his first marriage and Stacy was still around. They had had good times together and she was sad to see them go but the reality was, is that she just doesn't have the time for that anymore.
Time is running out so quickly on her, who would have thought it.
Cuddy stops mid-thought, time… glancing at the clock she realizes that she has to go to bed now she really can't survive without sleep. So she picks up the bottle to re-cork it and notices that there is none left. So she rinses her glass and sits it in the dishwasher, she hasn't turned it on all week and there are still hardly any dishes in there. She eats when she has the time but that doesn't seem to be happening much lately.
Cuddy ads eat regularly to her to-do list.
Cuddy heads to the shower, finally feeling the bottle of wine take its toll on her, she is pretty tolerant but a bottle had been a mistake and she was going to be paying dearly for it tomorrow.
Cuddy scrubs her skin clean, it glimmers in the odd light of the bathroom and with a slow finger she out-lines the contour of her wrist. She feels strange but she is satisfied that she is clean and steps out of the shower. Looking around she notices that she doesn't have a towel and decides that drinking is was not a good problem solver.
Cuddy stumbles forward a little and tries to steady herself with another shaky foot; she slips in a puddle of shower water and loses her balance.
She is falling, out of control.
Dazed Cuddy slowly takes a hold of the situation.
Her elbow seems to have taken the brunt of the fall and is aching, but not too badly she'll be bruised but she is certain that nothing broken except for her respect for herself. Gingerly she arises and looks in the mirror, there is a small cut just above her left eyebrow and its bleeding sluggishly, the surrounding area looks a little red and puffy which really just tops off her day.
No work tomorrow, she'll be fine.
Cuddy lies in bed with a glass of water on her bedside table and several aspirin inside of her, the thumping of her blood seems to be become further and further away. Sleep has come to claim her and she surrenders her control unto as best she can.