This is a very long section. As always please comment, let me know if you would like me to continue to part 2.
The next ten minutes felt like a blur, a surreal blur in which everything seemed to go so fast yet so slow. House broke every traffic law in the book on the way there and parked in an ambulance bay. If Cuddy made it through this she would have his head for that. As soon as the car came to a stop Sarah flew out of the car so fast she tripped over her own feet. Luckily she regained her footing and did not drop Cuddy whom she was carrying.
“I’ll take her, go take care of yourself,” House said.
“I can move faster,” Sarah retorted starting towards the door.
“You can’t make it to the hospital without falling over something when you aren’t down two units and carrying someone who weighs more than you.”
“Fuck you.”
“Fine, have it your way.”
The ER was more chaotic then usual, full of people with broken bones, infants with fevers, and other people with various other problems that seemed trivial compared to this.
“I need a gurney and an OR STAT for an emergency nephrectomy,” Sarah shouted over the din of the ER.
As one nurse took off to find a gurney and another paged the on-call surgeon Sarah laid Cuddy down on one of the ER couches and sat down beside her. The blood loss was catching up to Sarah, and fast. Part of her wanted to yank out the IV’s, but she didn’t. Her blood was what was keeping Cuddy from going under. She would not kill her best-friend even if it killed her. She curled up into a ball in the chair and rested her head on the arm, keeping her left arm elevated.
“You really don’t value your life do you,” House asked.
“That is not the issue at hand,” Sarah replied.
“That is not an answer.”
“What reason do I have to want to die?”
“I don’t know. No one knows. You’re a living question mark, no one knows anything about you except your name and career-based infamy and you’re unwillingness to tell anyone anything tells me you have something to hide.”
“Everyone has something to hide and you don’t open up to people either.”
“I don’t care whether or not you open up to people; I’m just interested in why you don’t.”
“Google it.”
Before House could come up with a clever retort a hoard of nurses rushed into the waiting room wheeling a large gurney in front of them. Hastily Sarah carried Cuddy to it and unhooked the IV’s.
“Type B-,” she said ignoring everybody’s stares of amazement.
“Got it,” the tallest nurse replied.
Sarah backed away from the gurney as the nurses rushed Cuddy to an OR where she would hopefully be saved. By that time her head was spinning so fast she could barely stand straight.
“What type are you,” someone asked.
A pair of hands guided her to the nearest chair.
“O-,” she heard herself reply and then everything faded into darkness.
*flashback*
She was kneeling at his feet naked, raped, and beaten, the edge of a rather long knife pressed to her throat.
“When will you learn that fighting is useless,” he asked coldly.
She did not answer. She kept her eyes squeezed shut, desperately mouthing a prayer to a God who had already forsaken her. Tears poured down her cheeks, tears she had worked so hard to suppress, but she could not anymore. Her entire body trembled and ached. She had fought hard, but it was not good enough. She had lost the battle and she would most likely lose the war.
“You brought this upon yourself,” he continued.
Cuddy knew that, but she also knew that this was his fault too.
“If you would just do what I asked you to you wouldn’t have to suffer.”
“There’s no way in hell,” she whispered weakly.
He pressed harder on the meat cleaver starting to draw blood.
“Do you want to die?”
“No,” Cuddy sobbed.
“Then beg.”
“I don’t want to die.”
“I said beg!”
Cuddy didn’t reply right away. She never begged for anything. It was degrading. She was too proud to beg…but she didn’t want to die.
“Please, I don’t want to die,” she said softly.
“Convince me.”
The pain in her throat built as the meat cleaver cut deeper and deeper getting closer to her carotid.
“Please,” she sobbed, “Please just let me live.”
And just like that the pain was gone. Blood trickled from the cut, but it was nothing serious. She would live. She could hear his heavy footsteps walking away, finally it was over. Suddenly she felt an unbearable, stabbing pain in the upper right side of her back and abdomen. A wounded cry escaped from her throat and she looked down to see the knife that had been at her throat sticking out just below her rib-cage. Blood was staining her fair-skin as it ran in rivulets down to the floor.
“There’s no use fighting battles that you will lose,” he said.
With that he left her to bleed. She reached behind her and pulled out the knife. She was going to bleed to death, she was sure of it. Too quickly, she scrambled to her feet causing herself more pain, but she ignored it. Even though her life had been horrible as of late, she did not want to die. She still had hope that things would get better. She made her way as fast as she could over to her silverware drawer and lifted up the false bottom. Several syringes lined the real bottom in a neat row. She withdrew one and deftly injected it into her arm. The next thing she had to do was put on clothes. No one could find her like this. She haphazardly put on the first set of clothing she could find, which was the one on the top of the dirty laundry basket, a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. Her head was starting to spin from the pain and blood-loss. She couldn’t think straight anymore. For a moment she just stood there trying to remember what she needed to do next.
The phone, she thought, get to the phone.
And do what?
There was a number she was supposed to call, but she couldn’t remember it. It was something with a nine…and maybe a one…
Her legs began to feel like rubber.
Shit, come on think!
Suddenly she heard a rapid, repetitive knock on the door. He was coming back to finish her, she knew it. Her brain was too oxygen deprived to think that it didn’t make sense that Tritter would knock on the door. Her basic instincts for survival had taken over. All of her thoughts had become jumbled and incoherent. There was no way for her to think rationally. Automatically she scrambled for the gun which was still lying on the floor. Once she had it she made her way as stealthily as possible to the garage. The knocking continued in the background, but she ignored it. She quietly opened the door to the garage. Three steps lead from the doorway into it, today it looked like nine and all of them were moving. Tentatively she reached out with her foot until she felt the cold concrete of the first step. It had gotten darker since she had come home. The garage was pitch-black except for the light coming from the laundry room. By some miracle she made it down the steps. With the gun held in front of her with both hands she began to proceed. She made one tentative step before her legs gave out. Luckily there was a toolbox next to her that she used to catch her fall. Unfortunately there was a tire-iron lying on top of it that she knocked down when she caught herself. It fell to the ground with a metallic clank that sounded louder to Cuddy than it actually was. She froze in fear certain that she had just screwed herself over. Sure enough the incessant knocking on the door stopped, the silence in its place punctured by footsteps coming closer and closer to the garage. She clung desperately to consciousness willing her body forward one step at a time to meet her assailant wanting nothing more than to lie down on the floor and go to sleep. Sleep would stop the pain. Sleep would be peaceful, but doing so under these circumstances would lead to death. She arrived at the threshold of the garage at the same time as her mystery assailant bracing herself for an attack. But nothing happened. She waited for an eternity, ready this time, to defend herself, but who she thought was Tritter did not lay hand on her. Finally she couldn’t hold on any longer. Her knees gave out and the gun fell to the ground with a clatter. She followed soon after.

*end flashback*
When Sarah woke up she found herself lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to a vital monitor, with an IV in her arm coming from a bag of O-. Damn, now she would have to argue with people to discharge her.
“It’s about time you woke up,” a voice said from the corner.
Sarah quickly looked in its direction and saw her mother sitting in one of the visitors’ chairs. It was clear which one of her parents Sarah looked more like. Her mom had the same flamboyant red hair and slender figure. Unlike Sarah she had blue eyes, was about six inches taller, and she was average weight.
“Let me guess,” she continued, “You slipped or tripped and fell into something or down something.”
“Well I did trip over a wet floor sign yesterday, but that’s not why I’m here,” Sarah replied.
“Then what the hell happened?”
“I donated blood illicitly.”
“What does that mean?”
“I donated it to Cuddy at her house because she couldn’t make it to the hospital in time without it.”
“And it didn’t matter whether or not you made it,” Joanna asked worriedly.
“I don’t have a death wish.”
“You’re the psychiatrist, what would you think about you?”
“I would think I was fine and dandy and you should let this go.”
“You’re not happy Sarah.”
“No one is.”
“Have you talked to anyone about it?”
“That would defeat the purpose of Lena’s untimely death. The best way to keep a secret is to have as few people as possible in the loop.”
Joanna sighed.
“What happened was not your fault.”
“I don’t like palliative lies.”
“I’m telling you the truth.”
“Not really. The reality was that it was partially my fault. I chose my actions.”
“But you did not choose her reaction.”
“But I chose my reaction to her reaction. It was all a series of choices that all of us made, thus all parties are responsible. That is the reality of the situation. How many times are we going to rehash this before you let it go?”
“Don’t be a jerk Sarah. I’m your mother it’s my job to worry about you. Just promise me you’ll do what’s necessary if things get too bad.”
“I will.”
“You better. Now, why did you need to illicitly donate nearly three units of blood to Lisa?”
“Would you buy it if I said she tripped over a wet floor sign?”
“Please, that girl has more grace than a ballerina. The day she trips over a wet floor sign is the day you don’t.”
“Ask her. I’m not certain what I’m allowed to divulge.”
Joanna nodded silently. Then she withdrew a pair of jeans and a black, fuzzy sweater from the bag at her feet and handed them to Sarah.
“I assume you want to discharge yourself against medical advice and go back to work so here, I brought you some clothes.”
“I’ll be fine,” Sarah said nonchalantly as she rapidly unhooked the monitors and I.V.
“Have fun spreading hopelessness throughout the New Jersey population. Make sure you’re free at six so we can go out to dinner.”
“I always do and meet me here and we’ll go somewhere.”
Fifteen minutes later…
“How’s Cuddy,” Sarah asked walking into House’s office.
“She’s on dialysis,” House said, “The knife went completely through the kidney. It had to be removed. Shortly after you collapsed she went into hypovolemic shock. That damaged the other kidney, but it’s reversible.”
“The fetus?”
“Brain-damaged, but alive.”
“Figures. Is she conscious yet?”
“She woke up screaming, probably from a flash-back, we sedated her. She’s been kept under for twenty-four hours, if you want to try to wean her off.”
“How long was I out?”
“Same length of time.”
“Did I go into shock?”
“Yes.”
“Wow, no wonder my mom is in pain-in-the-ass mode.”
“You’re mom’s here?”
“Yup, we’re going out to dinner at six.”
“You want an excuse to get out of it?”
”No, I like my mom.”
“I always pictured you as the run away from home I hate my parents type.”
“You’re wrong. Stop trying to figure me out and leave my mother alone,” she said as she walked out.
“I left the mystery syringe in your office for you to test,” he called after her.
“Okay,” she shouted back.
As soon as she was gone House decided to go find her mom. It was the perfect distraction from worrying about Cuddy. Unraveling the mystery of Sarah would waste a lot of time. He was certain that whatever she was hiding she had worked hard to cover it up. And that just made the game more exciting. Of course it would be more interesting to figure out Cuddys dark secrets, but at the moment those were inaccessible. Plus he wanted to think about anything except Cuddy for once in the past two and a half months. Sarah walked into Cuddys’ hospital room and picked up the chart. There was nothing in there that House hadn’t told her which was good. She hung the chart back on the end of the bed, withdrew a syringe, and injected it into the IV line. Less than a minute later Cuddy came to, this time fully aware of her surroundings.
“Need to talk to you,” Sarah said
Cuddy tried to sit up but Sarah pushed her back down.
“Don’t tear out your stitches,” she said.
Cuddy lied back down and turned her head to the side to face Sarah who was now seated in one of the visitors’ chairs.
“I assume you know what happened, Sarah said.
“I do,” Cuddy affirmed.
“As you probably guessed, the knife went through your right kidney. The hypovolemic shock caused the other kidney to stop functioning, but the damage is reversible. You’ll be on dialysis for at least a week. For the moment we have no viable donor matches, but as soon as I’m done here I’ll go get you bumped up the list.”
“No,” Cuddy said.
“What do you mean no?”
“I’ll be fine with one functioning kidney. The other people on the list need one more than I do.”
Sarah nodded, “Fine. You know what follows as far as diet and lifestyle so I’m not going to lecture you on that. Which brings us to topic two: You’re fetus is brain-damaged. We don’t know how bad or if there’s any other damage or if it will even make it to full term, but for the moment it is alive.”
Cuddy brought her hand to her forehead.
“I’m an idiot,” she said softly.
“Because you got stabbed? That hardly makes you an idiot.”
“I had the gun…I should’ve…I should’ve shot him, but I…I couldn’t.”
She looked at Sarah sadly waiting for her to insult and berate her for not having the guts to do what was necessary, but Sarah did not.
“It’s never easy,” was all she said, “and sometimes defending yourself does more damage than what would have been initially done. In this situation that probably wasn’t the case, but I can understand why you didn’t.”
Cuddy furrowed her eyebrows getting the feeling that that wasn’t something out of one of her psychology books.
“Then why were you telling me to shoot him if you think it will damage me?”
“Because either way you’re not going to come out of this unscathed. In the end you’ll be just as fucked up as the rest of us, your purity tarnished, your innocence destroyed. The question you have to ask to make this decision is how damaged you want to be when this is over. We have established that if you were to kill him you would be put in prison, probably on death row, but you could run. You could get a new hospital, get a new name, start over. That’s not to say that you’re old life won’t haunt you, that you won’t see him dying every night when you close your eyes, that the guilt won’t linger in the back of your mind, tormenting you for the rest of your life, but you’ll survive, you’ll adapt.”
“Are you speaking from experience,” Cuddy couldn’t help asking.
“No, but I have patients who have been in similar situations to yours, you know, battered women who have killed their husbands. That’s how they tell me it feels.”
Cuddy did not buy that, but she decided to let it go. For a few minutes neither of them said anything, each of them lost in their own thoughts. It was Sarah who broke the silence.
“I assume you plan on keeping your baby,” she said.
Cuddy pursed her lips and nodded once.
“Yeah.”
“Even though I think that is a mistake I will help you in anyway I can.”
“Thank you,” Cuddy said softly.
For the rest of the day they both watched the Golden Girls, each of them aware that there was a long, dark road ahead. Unlike Sarah Cuddy remained in denial, imagining a light at the end of that long, dark road. She clung to her hope desperately, like it was a rope keeping her from going over the edge. In reality it was the rope by which she hung herself. The denial that somewhat protected her for the time being, would betray her.