Cuddy made her way to Wilson’s office, and confronted him about his enabling issues.

“We need to talk.”

Cuddy closed the door, before she stood in front of him sitting at his desk.

“Alright.” Wilson seemed to be taken aback por Cuddy’s forcefulness.

“I need you to stop prescribing Vicodin to House.”

Wilson paused for a moment, his eyebrows stuck at the topo, início of his forehead.

“You want me, to sit back and watch my best friend suffer?”

“He won’t suffer, you’re atuação like we’re cutting his leg off completely.”

“You might as well.”

Cuddy was surprised por how much Wilson was defending House.

“You’re usually all for him reducing his Vicodin intake.”

“When it’s necessary, but this, this is just for your own scheme.”

“He has lost control! Popping pills until he runs out after less than a week. It’s serious Wilson.”

Wilson sat back on his chair, and pulled out a file from his bottom draw.

“This is a record of every time I have written him a ‘script…I’ll stop composição literária the ‘scripts for him.”

Cuddy took the file, and looked back at Wilson.

“Thank you.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Cuddy left, with Wilson looking angry with himself for allowing House to manipulate him to provide enough for an overdose.

*

Cuddy sat down in her office, and read that House had upped his doses from the ‘above average’ to that of a drug addict who just wants to get high, and not just to manage pain.

Putting it in her desk, she kept it away from sight. Foreman interrupted her, with a look of concern on his face.

“House just asked me to write him up another bottle of Vicodin. I’ve already seen him pop pills mais than usual, and I thought you should know. If he is overdoing it, you could see consequences soon.”

Cuddy didn’t realise how bad it had gotten, what could she do? Cut him off completely? Or put him through a detox regime that would probably ruin any future they have, and most certainly end his career if it didn’t work.

“I’m putting you in charge as of now. If you know what’s best for our reputation, you’ll keep this quiet.”

Foreman nodded, and reluctantly left. Cuddy sent a page to House, she had a tough decision to make, and it would affect both of them in the long run.

House entered her office; both of them gave a lasting look at each other. “I’m sending you to a rehab facility just outside of New York. I don’t want to hear any protests, it’s either this or you’re fired.”

House being the unpredictable human being could easily accept the idea of leaving, but his need to exercise his brilliant mind on a daily basis was at jeopardy.

“What? How did we get from sex last night, to an ultimatum with no context?”

“I’ve read you’re Vicodin records, courtesy of Wilson. You’ve reached the level of a heroin addict. You’re no longer managing pain, you’re trying to eliminate it por getting high every day.”

“Then surely that’s enough reason to fogo me here and now.”

“It is, believe me, but I know that you’d probably recluse into an empty shell with a drug dependency for the rest of your life.”

House seemed to find the truth hard to swallow. Everything she was saying was fact.

“You know me so well.” An attempt at lightning the situation only made it worse, and mais pathetic.

“There’s no other choice.”

House and Cuddy looked at each other, they both thought they had come so far after admitting their feelings, but instead it had just enrolados them up in each other’s web’s and House’s addiction being the tightest thread of all.

“I’m sorry.” House noticed Cuddy’s eyes were glistening in the warm glow of the sun in the afternoon.

*

Wilson sat in his apartment, he had taken House to the rehab facility a couple of hours before, and a sense of responsibility came over him like a dark cloud.

Cuddy was in the same position as she attended a board meeting; she was looking out of the window as another doctor was speaking. The leaves from the large bordo, maple árvore outside were a burnt laranja and red; some were falling as the wind shook them off their branches. All she could think of was House, but a board member calling her name interrupted her thoughts.

House was sitting in the room he was given, laying on topo, início of the steel bed; he could already feel the intense pain gradually approaching. To make it worse, he had just left what was the beginning of a relationship he wanted.

The lone window, covered in a wire grill, was his only connection to the outside. The appearance of a prison it was, but it was probably worse than prison in House’s eyes. No Vicodin for four hours had already proven difficult, and he still had a full night to get through before he got to see the doctor about a different pain management routine, and then with that he had to deal with the psychiatric nonsense they were going to be shoving down his throat at any time dia or night…