Title: Count on you

Pairings: Huddy

Genre: Friendship/Drama

Spoilers: Half-Wit 3x15

Warnings: none

Rating: PG-13

Chapter: one-shot

Word Count: 5946

Disclaimer: I don't own House M.D. nor the characters. If I did, House wouldn't be saving patients but wooing Cuddy…

Summary: Ever wondered why we didn't get Cuddy's reaction to House's ploy in Half-Wit? Here is my theory. Not what you think. Huddy undertones.

A/N: I watched Half-Wit again a few days ago and got puzzled again why we didn't get Cuddy's reaction to House's ploy. We know what Wilson thought of it, we get to see how Ducklings' has taken it. But Cuddy? No… She was more then affected at the beginning of the episode, when she confronted Wilson. It was she who has set it all into motion! But we don't see anymore of her, only later with the hug scene where she's smiling and NOT at all concerned. And why did she wish him good luck? It always puzzled me so I asked why, and I wondered. And when I wonder I come up with strange theories. Here is one of them.

Hope you'll enjoy.

I'd like to thank clinicduty community at for their wonderful job. The transcripts are a major help for a fanfiction writer. Couldn't have done it without you. Thank you!

And a big thanks to my fellow Huddy Shippers from . They were the first one I shared this theory with and it was their reception that encouraged me to write this down.

And for any one interested, the next chapter of 'You can't always get what you want' should be on Thursday.


Count on You


Cuddy was sitting in her office engrossed in the latest financial and legal issues for the hospital. If House wouldn't be so engrossed in getting every patient and their family to threaten them with suing him, then she would have a much, much easier life. She growled a bit, checking her computer, when someone knocked at her doors.

"Enter." She said in a raised voice, already annoyed by the interruption. She really didn't need this right now. What was he thinking, when-

The doors were opened by disheveled and very solemn Chase and Cameron. They were not wearing their lab coats, and she frowned; actually it seemed as if they had just come from somewhere. She checked her watch. Yes, it was still their working hours. Her eyebrows shot up at the sight and she watched them expectantly. Chase fidgeted, but Cameron looked straight into her eyes.

"Yes?" she asked the younger doctors, wondering what could have made them come here. Then she sighed exasperatedly. "What did House do now?"

She watched as House's ducklings exchanged a look, as if a silent conversation was going on. It seemed they had come to some conclusion, because when they looked back at her Cameron had a smug look on her face that accompanied Chase's defeated one.

"You might need to look for a new head of diagnostic department." He said wary of his boss's reaction, while Cameron shot him an annoyed look.

Cuddy watched them not moving, sure she had misheard them. "Come again?"

"We think House is looking for a new job." Cameron said this time, her voice solemn as she watched the elder woman carefully.

Cuddy's mouth parted slightly then a short laugh escaped her lips. "What makes you think that? He's not going to get a new job anywhere. No one's brave enough to hire him." She told them matter-of-factly not ready to believe this nonsense.

"I check his mail everyday, and there were plane tickets to Boston, this Friday." Cameron replied.

"To Boston? There's an opening at Harvard for division chief, Infectious Disease." Cuddy said to herself, quite not believing he would do such a thing. "He's not that ambitious." She added as if trying to convince herself. "What else do you have?" she asked, her whole attention on them now. Surely, he did not think on abandoning her now, not after everything she has done for him. She tried to control the anger mixed with fear and not a small amount of hurt. There must be some other explanation.

"Foreman saw him giving a blood for routine test. He doesn't think it's a patient's." Cameron replied, and Cuddy could see something flicker in her eyes.

"Why's that?"

"Ugh, he didn't say exactly-"

"Told the patient had a foot problem, and House was checking for the routine stuff." Chase interrupted Cameron's stammering.

"That doesn't mean anything." Cuddy replied hopefully, denial was a great thing.

"No, but makes sense if he's checking for basic medical clearance for employment and didn't want anyone to know about it." Cameron shot back. "Do we need to look for a new job?" she asked and Chase shot her a confused and slightly exasperated glance. Cuddy just bristled then watched their body language carefully. The years worth of working with House were paying off, as she picked on the little details. She could tell something was not right here. Her eyes narrowed.

"What else do you know?" her voice sounded dangerously low and her look hardened; the younger employees cowered under her fierce look, Cameron a bit latter than Chase.

"We, ugh, we were at his place." He stammered. "He- he called Massachusetts General six times in the past month."

Cuddy slumped in her chair as if all air had left her. No, that's not possible. But it all makes sense. The calls… the blood… what else there could be… She shook her head. No! She would not believe it. And she would not leave it like that. She had to check it for herself. She had to be sure. And then …and then she'd confront him.

She collected herself, exhaling slowly then squared her shoulders. She looked up at her two younger employees. "Don't tell anyone about it yet. I'm going to check for myself and let you know." Her administrative tone told them they were dismissed. They both nodded and left her office.

She got up and started pacing behind her desk. She needed to calm down. This must be treated with cool off appearance. She couldn't afford to lose her temper. She exhaled deeply a few times, and prepared to put on her best administrative attitude. She's not going to give up House without a fight. And he's not going to leave her without a good explanation. He owed her that! She not only employed him when no one else wanted him, but she perjured herself for him! How dare he do this to her! She bristled again, her pacing increasing. She grabbed the rubber band off her desk absentmindedly, and started twisting it around her fingers. It was a magic trick to calm her nerves and she often didn't even realize she was doing it.

She paced her office for a few minutes, calming slightly then she dialed the number to Massachusetts General and turned on the speakerphone. She was pacing more anxiously now, a nervous air around her. She was looking like a caged lioness looking for a way to protect her cub, to fight for it.

"Massachusetts General. May I help you?" came a pleasant voice from the speakerphone and she felt the anger pummel in her veins. Se exhaled slowly silently and started in her overly pleasant administrative voice.

"Good Morning. Dr. Lisa Cuddy, Dean of Medicine at the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital in New Jersey. I'd like to speak with your boss, Dr. Medick." She bristled, with each passing second her anxiety increasing.

"Wait a moment; I'm going to transfer this call." Cuddy waited as she was told, the seconds stretching painfully into eternity for her. Finally, she heard the awaited click of an answered phone.

"Dr. Cuddy. To which I owe this call?" came a cheerful male voice.

"Did you think you could steal Dr. House without a fight?" she asked without any preambles. She was beyond playing pleasant; all she wanted was to know the truth. Was House really planning on leaving her hospital …and her?

"Steal him for what?" the voice of the Dr. Medick over the phone sounded a bit confused. But she ignored it not having time or energy for this crap.

"Quit jerking me around. I know he's coming out there." She said fiercelly, still pacing around her desk; the rubber band tormented some more by her fingers in the nervous habit she picked after House.

"We're not looking to hire him." Yeah, right!

"He's called you six times in the last month!" she said accusatorily.

"We're not looking to hire him."

"You think if you keep repeating it, I'll start believing you?" she shots back, the stress and suppressed hurt, making her cranky. She was playing even more nervously with the rubber band then before.

"Dr. Cuddy, there's nothing else I can say. I'm sorry." He really did sound apologizing and it made Cuddy pause. Surely, there is more to this than that. She was not going to back down now, she needed to know.

"If he's not coming there for a job interview, he's either coming to your hospital for a social visit or because he's a patient." She tried to reason, speculate more for her then for him, desperately looking for a different solution to this situation. Then she stopped playing with the rubber band, as the full meaning of her words registered. House is not really the social type. She looked at the phone anxiously, praying silently that he had surprised her once again.

"Is it a social visit, Dr. Medick?" she hated how her voice sounded desperate, how the hope-against-hope could be heard in it, but she didn't care. All she wanted was to know for sure. There was a slight pause on the other side, and her hearts stopped beating. The cold was sipping inside her as she watched the phone anxiously, expectantly.

"I can't stand House. Neither can Dr. Kupersmith."

She heard the words but defended herself from fully absorbing their meaning. She finished the call quickly, not as smoothly as she would like to (she tried to ignore the pitying undertones of Dr. Medick voice when he told her his goodbye). No, this was not it. It couldn't be!

She leaned over her desk forcefully, suddenly spent. Is he- is he really going there as a patient? OhGod, ohGod, ohGod… she needed someone; someone to lean on, someone she could count on, some one that was there for her. Yet… she couldn't go to the one person she wanted… what to do- what- Wilson! How could she forget about Wilson?. Surely, he would know something. He's House's best friend after all.

She didn't even realize when she had left her office heading to the fourth floor, where Wilson's office was situated. She registered in the back of her mind that some nurses where trying to gain her attention about something, but she rebuked them with some kind of excuse, telling them she's in a hurry. And it was true, this was more important then anything else.

She stopped before Wilson's office suddenly very nervous. What if it's all true? What if House's really sick? She tried to exhale lowly, to stop the quickening of her breath. She needed to stay calm. She pushed the handle of Wilson's door and entered. It's now or never.

"What's up?" he asked her confused, while she walked over to his balcony window, not able to look back at him. She made sure that House was nowhere in sight, then bristled forcing her voice to stay calm and neutral as she asked her question.

"D'you know Dr. Kupersmith in Boston?"

"Yeah, he's an oncologist." he answered her without a beat, and she could tell he was watching her carefully, could feel the worry written on his face. "What's up?" Maybe… Maybe it's nothing serious. Maybe- But she needed to know for sure!

"What's his sub-specialty?"

"Brain cancer." She looked away into House's office seeing him standing over there with his ducklings, playing with his cane. Cold clenched her heart and she could feel the tears prickling behind her eyes. She felt suddenly very small and fragile, all strength leaving her. "What's going on?" Wilson's voice was full of anxiety and it didn't help her. She looked at him for the first time. She could feel the fear written all over her face, but was unable to conceal it.

Wilson stood up immediately and rushed to her side, concerned. He helped her to his couch, his right hand doing soothing circles on her arm.

"Will you tell me what's going on?" he looked at her worriedly and she felt slightly uncomfortable with him this close. He was not the one she would like to get comfort from. Her eyes were burning when she locked them with his, and he sighed knowingly. "What has he done know?" she extracted her arm subtlety form his and he got the hint moving away to lean against his desk.

"He didn't do anything. It's…" and she told him about the Chase and Cameron's visit in her office, her talk with Dr. Medvick and her conclusions, feeling the havoc of emotions that were raging inside her.

"He doesn't look sick. He should have symptoms. Blurred vision, headaches, confusion, clumsiness..." she tried to reason it all, unwilling to believe it might be true. Wilson watched her somberly.

"Depends on how far along the cancer is. What kind, how aggressive?" He shrugged slightly trying to act as if it really was nothing serious, but Cuddy could see the deep worry in his soulful eyes.

"He didn't tell you?" she asked surprised a little. And he gave her a what do you think? look. She closed her eyes, mildly exasperated.

"House …is House."

"He's no different than anyone else with cancer. Once you tell, then every conversation is about that." They looked at each other for a moment.

She felt a sudden, primal need to escape, to be left alone. She got up squaring her shoulders, as if getting ready to face the hospital staff, hiding her true feelings behind the Administrator's mask. She heard Wilson sighing, but didn't turn to look at him.

"I'm going to talk with House." He said, his voice sounding resigned and rather worried. "If I learn anything I'll call you."

"Thank you" She whispered and left his office.


Cuddy needed a break. She needed a time to think, or more likely to run away from it all …even if for a while. So she left the hospital during her lunch break for the first time in months. She wasn't sure where she was going, just allowed her feet to lead her.

She didn't want to analyze her feelings, the deep raw emotions she was currently experiencing. She made herself detached after her talk with Wilson, not wanting for this to interfere with her job. She worked on the smallest and silliest issues for the hospital and its' staff, such as a new hand-blower in male bathroom on the second floor, because the old one was making too much noise, a new phone in the lobby, because someone had dropped the receiver and it wasn't working properly now; all the stuff she'd hate to do on the usual day. But today she hoped it will distract her. And unfortunately, it hadn't worked as planned. She couldn't focus, got distracted by the irrelevant things. A flicker of the sunlight on her walls, a shout in the lobby, a different sort of her books in the shelves. And somehow, it all had led her thought to House. She had quickly become quite moody, snapping at her poor secretary more then she should.

So she left, hoping it will help her to clear her mind and sort her emotions. Yet… she could tell it hadn't worked so far, as hoped it would. If only she was brave enough to confront him…

She sighed again looking up. The sky was steely grey and it looked it might rain later. She hadn't taken her umbrella, but she didn't care. The weather seemed to suite her mood.

"Has the hell frozen over? Because Satan herself has left her dent during the day." A sarcastic voice brought her up from her musings, startling her. She turned quickly to her left, surprised to find herself in the jogging park, when she confronted House after the Tritter fiasco weeks ago. He was sitting in the same bench as before looking at some point before him and fussing with his cane.

She couldn't find her voice. She just stood there watching him, the emotional rollercoaster making her a bit dizzy. He popped a Vicodin into his mouth swallowing it dry, and then looked at her.

"I'm popping a breath mint. Hope to get that kiss we didn't get to last time."

He's behaving normally, with his usual sarcastic responses his cocky smile, and occasional leer at her breast. She watched him as if seeing him for the first time, lowering the distance between them subconsciously, and finally standing improperly close. And it had made him uncomfortable. He fidgeted under her stare then tried to break lamely the sudden sparks zapping in the air that were not from the upcoming storm. "So you gonna kiss me or not?" when she hadn't answered hi, he straightened. "Cuddy?" his voice lost his playful undertones as he watched her carefully, a barely suppressed concern in his eyes.

"Why are you going to Boston?" she blurted out, catching him of guard.

"Wha…?" she could tell he wasn't prepared for this question.

"Why are you going to Boston? Why are you seeing Dr. Kupersmith?" she asked more urgently now, that primal need to know for sure eating her away. Is he sick or not? And why hadn't he told anyone?

"How did you find out that?" he asked, more angry then resigned.

"Your Ducklings got concerned their boss is changing jobs." He didn't answer her, looking away, and she felt the cold grip her heart painfully. "Well, are you?"

"I'm not going to change my job. I actually like working under Satan, you know. Being a Masochist and all…" he shot back, trying to smile, turn it all into a joke; as if hoping to make her forget it all, make her leave it alone. Not bloody likely!

"Then why are you going to Boston on Friday?" her voice raised a bit even if she wanted it to stay calm; she could feel her insides squirming with anxiety.

"That's none of your business!" he told her fiercely, getting up form the bench and truing away.

"None of my- House! You're my employee! Of course it's my business!"

He turned toward her, hurt flickering in his eyes at her employee exclamation and she sucked a breath in, feeling as if punched. The wounded look was already gone from his face, masked by his usual indifference, but its vivid image had printed itself forever in her memory. She swallowed hard, needing to make it somehow better. "You are my friend too. And I care for you. I worry. Are you…are you ill? Do you have a-a cancer?" she asked, hating the desperate undertones her voice took, but she refused to look away. It was now or never. He'd tell her, she knew he would.

He looked fully at her this time, as if seeing her for the first time; as if surprised she would admit this much. Their mutual, deeply hidden affections had been a taboo between them for a long, long time.

His eyes were boring deeply into her orbs, searching. They stared at each other ignoring the world around them, the few seconds stretching into eternity for them. He must have seen something in her eyes – the worry? …the need to know the truth? …the hurt because he hadn't told her earlier? He saw something because he looked away and swallowed hard.

"I… I can't tell you." His voice solemn, even regretful; then he added nonchalantly "Don't worry about me, though. It's nothing".

"House! How can it be nothing?" she told him exasperated, raising her arms. "Have you got a cancer or not?"

"Just let it be." He said in a no nonsense tone, leaving to the hospital. "I've already told you it's none of your business."

"House! House!!" she shouted after him, then jogged to catch him. Even crippled, when he wanted to, he could move really fast. "House." her voice was pleading, when she grabbed his arm finally. He looked down at her, then turned away.

"Don't. And leave it alone. It doesn't concern you."

"House! Of course it concerns me! How can you-"

"You think you have deduced I got cancer. But you know noting! It's my life, so leave it alone! I told you it. doesn't. concern. you!"

"How can you say that?!" Her eyes blazed at him fiercely, and she was not able to hide anything from him, didn't want to. He sucked a breath at the raw emotions he saw in her orbs, and turned away. "Please…" she whispered softly.

He looked at her surprised. He couldn't even remember the last time she had pleaded with him in that way. And both of them knew she'd get anything she wanted when she used that tone of voice. She looked at him back, searching his eyes. Something in them caught her attention. Something that reminded her of guilt and she steeled herself.

"House…" her tone became warningly and he tensed. "What did you do?"

He didn't answer her and she analyzed the information she had gathered so far. Suddenly, an article, she read about week ago about the pain treatment for cancer patients, flashed before her eyes. She was sure she saw this med journal in House's office as well. No… no, he didn't. He couldn't! She sucked a breath, as it all suddenly made sense. A new different sense.

She's going to kill him for what he had put her through! "House!" she was suddenly very angry and he flinched involuntary at the volume of her voice. "Did you- did you fake a cancer?" she asked him in a dangerously low voice as she let go of his hand, suddenly disgusted with him.

His eyes flicker away for a fraction of second and it was all the answer she needed. "I can't believe this! Are you insane?! What were you thinking?"

"I want to test the treatment! I want the pain to go away!" he shot back at her defensively.

"And so you faked cancer! Probably sent a file of a patient! It's a fraud! Have you no shame?!"

"I don't need a shame! I need a pain reliever. Because my damn leg is hurting so much!" he screamed back at her, his face inches form hers.

"You're. an. addict." She told him slowly, venomously.

"Do you think I want to eat the Vicodin?" he yelled abruptly, a desperate look in his eyes. "Do you think I don't know I'm heading to a premature death because my liver will stop functioning someday soon?! Do you think I don't know that? Do you?! Because I do! Goddammit! My leg just fucking hurts too much!"

She took the lashing shocked for seeing so many emotions in his face in such a small time. He breathed heavily, watching her, and she was unable to look away. A memory from over a year ego flashed before her eyes. A memory of him standing in her office with his trousers down as he asked her for the shot of morphine in the spine. She relented then, giving him what he asked for. She felt guilty afterwards, disgusted with herself for feeding his addiction. So she decided to mend it somehow by lying to him, telling him it was a placebo, knowing it will force him to think about his pain, to look for a different way to stop it. He tried and he failed. She was watching him falling down; she was trying to help, yet failing as well. His …their pain was just too much…

And now… now, when she stood before him, with the same painful, resigned expression on his face, she knew she wouldn't be able to deny him anything. She saw the raw pain in his eyes, the pain she had put there. The guilt consumed her once more, weakening her reason, but in the end it was her heart that had won. They watched each other for a painfully slow, few seconds. Then he asked her quietly, resigned.

"Will you call Boston?" she knew it was it. A turning point in their relationship. Was she going to slap him, put him down on the road of misery again and in process destroying the last strings of their friendship, or was she going to relent again, closing her eyes at what he planned to do, more so, even supporting him through it all?

"No." she whispered, here eyes flickering down for a second, the she locked them with his once again. "No, I won't call them. If you think it will help you to sustain the pain, then so be it." He watched her unbelievingly for a second then did something he had not done in long, long time. His right hand sneaked around her shoulders and he crashed her to his chest burring his face in her dark mane, then quickly releasing her; he took a step back, putting a safe distance between them.

"Thank you." He replied solemnly, and she knew he meant it. Her eyes just watered and she nodded. A raindrop fell onto her face, quickly followed by another.

"Let's go, before the storm gets all started." He said and Cuddy fell into step with him as the both of them headed to the Hospital.

"Who else did you speak with about it?" he asked her after a while, breaking the comfortable silence. His eyes did not turn toward her even for a second.

"I- I told Wilson."

"God, woman… what did you do…" he said resigned.

"I was concerned!" she told him defensively then bit her lip, knowing perfectly well that Wilson wouldn't keep his mouth shout.

"Don't worry. I'll deal with it. All this miserable bastard act I'm good at will help me" he replied, his sarcastic side telling her everything's going to be fine. She smiled a little, as they hurried together trying to escape the rain.


The piercing incessant sound of the doorbell woke her up forcefully. Cuddy's eyes adjusted to dark and she sighed. Gee, I wonder who it might be. She sighed and got up form the bed putting on a robe. Sleepily, she staggered towards the door, turning on nearby lights as she passed them. She slapped her hand on the door, peering through the peep-hole just for a good measure. Better safe then sorry, even if she already had her suspicions about whom she was going to find there.

She almost laughed aloud looking through the peep-hole. House must have heard her slap, because he had moved his face closer to the peep-hole, making it look hilariously expanded. But the mirth left her quickly. She dropped her shoulders and opened the door, resigned.

"It's the middle of the night. You know I'd be asleep." She accused him, still cranky from being wake up so brutally.

"Phone would have woken you up just as much." he stated in his usual tone "But I can't see what you're wearing on the phone." House is House, she sighed inwardly then wearily, turned around and walked inside, knowing perfectly he's going to follow her. He always did.

"My patient with the fifty-five IQ has Takayasu syndrome." he exclaimed, closing the door. "Very uncommon. Happens mostly in Asian women."

She entered her living room and took the wrap; it was rather cold and she didn't need to give House any more occasions and encouragement to leer at her. He followed her into her living room, just like she had predicted.

"Takayasu is manageable with steroids, which you already know." She started, seating herself in her comfy armchair. "So, I assume you're here for something else."

" My patient also has a significant seizure problem." He stated, turning his back toward her.

"Also manageable with anticonvulsive medication." She shot back, wondering what he was really getting at.

"Yes. He kept taking his anticonvulsive medication, he could go back on tour and play the piano." He dismissed her reply, and she couldn't help but feel puzzled.

"But..." he started seating himself on her table, his cane between his legs. She ignored the urge to yell at him for doing so then subconsciously leaned closer giving him her whole attention. "A hemispherectomy would completely stop the right-brain seizure activity and he would no longer need to take his anticonvulsive medication."

"You want to remove half his brain?" she exclaimed in disbelief. Surely, he's high or something.

"The right half." He confirmed then added as if speaking to a four year old. "It'd be irresponsible to remove the left."

"You don't remove half a brain and gain function." She argued, exasperated. That's insane! What was he thinking?

"Not my brain." He got up for the table, ready to pace and she knew he's all worked up on this treatment. "But his, who knows?" he paused. "What? Let's say I'm the left side of Patrick's brain, I'm quick- witted, I'm charming, I'm great looking."

Cuddy just smiled, unable to hold her amusement at his analogy. Where did he got all those metaphors and analogies she didn't know, but sometimes there were really funny.

"You're the right side of his brain. You're useless, old, damaged." Not so funny anymore. She smiled wryly, but humored him nonetheless, wondering how he'd play it off. "We go to a bar for a drink. Now, I have the mad skills to be scoring all the hot babes, but instead, I'm spending my time wiping drool off your chin and making sure you don't eat the tablecloth." She could see the hidden passion to this little speech; the kind of that shows he cares, even if he tried to show differently. And she knew she'd relent. Like always. Not be cause he's right (which he was nonetheless), but because it means something to him.

"What's the father wanna do?" she asked halfheartedly, grasping her last resort at arguing with him; both of them knew he'd already won.

"I don't know." He admitted, playing their little game and watching her expectantly. She sighed, getting up. Sometimes, she really hated her job.

"So go wake him up." She deadpanned walking back to bed, putting off the living room lights.

She stopped in the foyer. He was leaving to Boston the day after tomorrow. She has a busy day before her and she probably wouldn't be able to see him before his flight. She remembered how the Ducklings were trying to find a way to save him. Her heart warmed at the obvious sign of affections they had for their sarcastic boss. Yet, she couldn't help the small twinge of guilt for putting House into position of fighting them; not to mention the risk of them finding out this whole masquerade. She sighed inwardly. If they found out he's not really sick, then there's no doubt they'd send theirs results to Boston. The guilt worsened. She felt House coming up behind her and she turned around.

"House, I'm so sorry." He, knowing immediately what she was talking about, looked down for a second, as if ashamed for what he was doing; then he was back to himself.

"Forgot I was dying, huh?" he shot at her, raising his eyebrows knowingly, teasingly, but she didn't have energy for his games anymore. Not at this hour. Not today.

"I'm here, if you need me." She told him, surprising even herself by this admission, but not willing to take it back. He paused, fixing his eyes on her carpet then back at her.

"I need you." He watched her expectantly, challenging, knowing she hadn't expected this reply, probably something more sarcastic. He took a step toward her, his heart exposed in his eyes. And she couldn't help but smiling lovingly at him, feeling suddenly very privileged to see this hidden part of him, this real Greg hidden behind House. It gave her courage to advance him. She stood on her toes, putting her arms around him, and could feel him leaning into her as she hugged him, his stubble grazing her cheek pleasantly. He wasn't hugging her back, but she could feel him moving his hands slowly then placing them firmly on her butt. She closed her eyes, unable to hold the smile.

House is House …even if he's Greg.

Yet… yet when he held her, there was no other place on earth she would rather be. Never had she felt so secure, so protected, so wanted … so cared for then in that moment. It was perfect. He was perfect. She savored each of those few seconds, before something would happen to break the moment. She could feel House getting ready to say something, and prepared for the worst.

"One small feel for a man. One giant ass for a mankind." She barely managed to hold her laugh, trying not to break this moment. She knew he was probably trying to cover up his earlier admission, and she decided to humor him. She patted him on his back and broke the hug.

"Thanks." She said softly. Her arms were on his chest, his still around her. They stared into each other eyes unmoving, the world disappearing once again – like always – around them. For a moment there was no House and Cuddy, no Dean and Diagnostician, but just Greg and Lisa.

His face was solemn as he conveyed his gratefulness for her understanding, for her not calling Boston, for her not giving him up …giving up on him. She smiled slightly in understanding, replying her 'your welcome' with her eyes. The silent exchange more meaningful than any conversation they could have shared. "Good luck in Boston." She added, finally ending their little moment, the Dean and her Diagnostician already back, burying Greg and Lisa under their masks.

She turned back toward her bedroom, knowing perfectly well, he's going to let himself out. But she heard House starting to follow and rolled her eyes. Without turning or stopping, she told him:

"Call the 'Make-A-Wish' Foundation."

She heard him turning in defeat, could feel his knowing smirk on his face. She laid down in her bed as her front door closed behind him. She wrapped the sheets around her tightly, lying on her side. She closed here eys and exhaled powerfully. She knew there was no sleep for her tonight.


The ringing of her phone woke Cuddy up from a rare pleasant dream. And she had a sudden feeling of déjà vu. For God's sake it was such a great dream! She could still feel those strong dreamed arms around her. She tried to wake up properly, as she picked the receiver still thinking of those pleasant sensations his stubble made. Such a wonderful drea-

"Is this a Make-A-Wish Foundation? Cause that's the number I found in the phone book." Came a falsely cheerful voice form the other side of the core the moment she'd mumbled a 'hello'.

"House? Is that you?" she looked at the clock on her night stand. "Shouldn't you be sleeping? You've got a flight in less then three hours."

There was a pause then an indistinct sigh form the other side of the phone and it woke her up faster and better than any alarm clocks she fad ever had. "What is it?" she asked concerned, completely focused on the man on the phone.

"I'm not going to Boston."

"What? Why? You said you needed this treatment." She said confused. Surely, he didn't develop some strange set of morals and principles. He didn't give a damn when she had found out the truth and he was more then relieved that she had understood him and given her blessings. "House?"

"Shit!" he exclaimed, startling her. "Those idiots had to dig it all! I told them to leave it alone! It told them! But no! They just have to dig more. Fuck! They just didn't give a damn!" she heard something breaking and got concerned, then it downed on her what has exactly happened.

"They had sent their findings to Mass General." It was not a question; she didn't need to ask about something she already knew. She closed her eyes, feeling both relief and compassion mixed together. Her heart went to him, but she was glad he's not going to get the drug implanted into his brain. The treatment was still tested and not one hundred percent sure. She didn't even want to think about the supposed side effects….

"Those idiots just can't understand the meaning of 'leave it alone'." His tone was bitter, yet somehow vulnerable, and it made her heart clench even more then before.

"Greg… I'm sorry." She knew he hated platitudes, but she's sincere and she hoped he'd be able to accept it.

"Yeah… me too." A pause "You're the only one I can count on, Lisa." And a click followed.

Her breath hitches at this rare admission from him, his voice was thick with emotions, and it made her heart beat faster. The way he said her first name…

Clutching her phone closely, tears in her eyes and ache in heart, she whispered to the dial tone,





So, is this a farfetched theory or did it actually make sense? Let me know.