Thank you for the tremendous interest in this fic! I'm glad you enjoyed it and thanks, again, for all the wonderful comments! Here's the last chapter.
Cuddy opened her eyes and then squinted against the bright light in the room. She looked to her left where a large window was letting in sunlight.
"I got you home."
Her eyes quickly went to the right where House was sitting in a hospital chair. He was staring at her, his hair a mess and his stubble a bit thicker than usual.
"Sort of," he continued. "It's not exactly home, but I can't do all the work. You need to pull your own weight."
"Where...?" Cuddy's voice was rough and cracked slightly.
"Eh?" House placed a puzzled expression on his face, before he quickly dropped his act. "Canada. Nice, eh? Good thing we had passports. Key word being had."
House popped the lid of the bottle of Vicodin in his hand. He swallowed a pill dry and returned the pill bottle to his pocket.
"Shouldn't you have run out?" Cuddy asked him, her eyes on his pocket still.
"We're in a hospital, Cuddy," House replied with an eye roll.
Cuddy frowned and brought her eyes to his face. "What happened?"
"Well, you've been in and out for about three days," House told her as he stood to his feet, still using his self made cane. He crossed toward her bed. "Your lungs almost gave out on you. Your heart was close behind."
"How, um..." Cuddy drew in a breath, recalling the events. "Things are so fuzzy. The others? The man with the leg?"
"Oh, he's great." House moved around her bed and to the window. "Talking, eating jello, acting like he's the toughest shit on earth."
"House," Cuddy narrowed her eyes at him.
"What?" House stopped in front of the window and stared out at the busy city below. "He didn't come close to dying."
"He was in pain," Cuddy said.
"Aren't we all?" House asked, half distracted.
Cuddy looked away from him and glanced around the room. Her eyes settled on the flowers set on a small table across from her bed.
"Where'd the flowers come from?" She brought her eyes back to him.
"Dave," House answered over his shoulder.
"Is he all right?" Cuddy raised her eyebrows slightly. "And everyone else?"
"They're fine." House turned and faced her. "They went home."
"Where are we exactly?" Cuddy's eyebrows drew together. "And what happened to our plane? Why did we crash?"
"We're in Newfoundland." House made his way back over to her bed. "And the airlines gave some bullshit about a haywire navigation system and idiot employees. You bet your ass there'll be a lawsuit."
Cuddy shook her head. "I don't care about a lawsuit. I just feel terrible for all those people. All the families. All those that died."
"You were almost one of them," House told her with a slight nod.
"Yeah," Cuddy agreed quietly. She paused a moment. "Thank you, House. For not... for just... For being there. For taking care of me."
House moved around her bed. "Well, the only other doctor was you and no one was relying on you in that state. It had to be all up to me."
"I don't remember much about being rescued," Cuddy admitted to him. "What happened?"
"I carried you on my back for miles. Over a river, up a mountain." He caught the look she was giving him and gave in. "A helicopter found us."
"Guess we were lucky then," Cuddy replied.
"Yes." House seated himself in his former seat.
"When do we go home?" Cuddy asked him.
"When you're better." House gave a shrug. "A week, maybe two."
Cuddy frowned. "That long?"
"You were pretty sick," House told her. "And you should get some rest."
Cuddy's eyebrows drew together. "When are you going back?"
"When you do." House picked up the magazine that sat on the floor next to his chair.
"You're going to wait?" Cuddy kept her eyes on him.
"I said I would get you home, Cuddy." House lifted his eyes to hers. "And that's what I'm going to do."
"Nervous?" House cocked his head in her direction.
Cuddy's knuckles were beginning to turn white from clutching so tightly on the arms of her airplane seat. She looked to House.
"Yes," Cuddy answered his question.
"Think this one'll go down?" House asked.
Cuddy let out a slight whine. "We should have drove."
House raised an eyebrow. "With what car?"
"We could have taken a bus," Cuddy said. "Or train. Anything else."
"This is faster," House replied. "Besides, what're the odds of being in a plane crash twice?"
Cuddy paused and gave a slight nod. "That's true."
"And we already know what to do if that should happen," House told her.
Cuddy glared at him. "You're not funny."
"Yeah, well..." House let himself trail off and placed a hand on hers, doing so as nonchalantly as he could.
Cuddy picked up her phone quickly. "Hello?"
"How are you?" House's voice came through the phone.
Cuddy moved around her bed and made her way into her bathroom. "Haven't had a moment of peace since I've been home. I've had calls from my aunt, two of my friends, my cousin, my uncle on my dad's side, my-"
"You can stop," House cut her off. "I get it."
"I'm about ready to turn the ringer off." Cuddy stopped in front of her bathroom mirror. She leaned closer, examining the scar on her face.
"Go ahead," House told her. "You still need rest."
Cuddy let out a sigh. "This scar is awful."
"What?" House asked, confused.
"I'm looking at my scar," she clarified, a frown on her face. "I doubt make up will hide it."
"It'll fade," House said.
"Not soon enough," Cuddy replied. "And it'll always be noticeable."
"It'll be there to remind you I saved your life," House added.
"Right." Cuddy rolled her eyes. "Thanks."
House's tone came through softer. "Let the machine get your calls, get some sleep, and I'll see you at the hospital tomorrow."
Cuddy smiled slightly to herself. "Goodnight, House."
"Night," House responded and hung up the phone.
"Is it just my large ego or is everyone staring at me?" House directed his question to Wilson as he entered into his own office.
Wilson followed him in, but remained by the door. "Everyone's staring at you."
"How strange." House played clueless as he crossed the room, limping along with stick that served as his cane in Newfoundland.
"Really, House?" Wilson raised his eyebrows. "You should have seen this place when we thought you were dead."
"A large party comes to mind." House faced Wilson and sat down in the chair behind his desk.
"We were too busy mourning Cuddy to party." Wilson went along with him.
House leaned back in his chair. "Ah, of course."
Wilson hesitated before speaking sincerely. "House... I'm glad you're okay. The both of you."
House gave a slight nod of understanding as he lowered his chair back down to its rightful position. Wilson returned the nod and let himself out.
"Long day," House said as he entered Cuddy's office with two coffee cups balanced, one on top of the other, in his free hand. "Brought you some coffee."
Cuddy looked up from her desk and then stood to her feet. "Thanks."
House slowly began his trek across her office, his eyes on the coffee cups. "Have you been busy?"
Cuddy met him halfway and took the top coffee cup. "People have been in and out all day. I'm finally getting a break." Her eyes fell on his makeshift cane. "How long are you planning on using that?"
"Until the novelty wears off," House replied.
Cuddy shook her head as she made her way back over to her desk. She sipped her coffee and then seated herself in her chair. House walked over to the chair across from her desk and sat down. He took a gulp from his coffee and set the cup down on the edge of Cuddy's desk.
House rested back in the chair and watched as Cuddy made notes on the paper in front of her. After a moment, he spoke.
"Hm?" Cuddy lifted her head to look at him.
House's eyes flicked to her scar before he diverted them to his coffee cup. "Never mind."
Cuddy watched him now. "House?" She waited until he looked at her. "Thank you for getting me home."
He held her eye contact. "You're welcome."
Cuddy gave him a smile and then went back to her work. House picked up his coffee and sat back as he took a sip, his eyes still on her. Silence sat between them, but neither minded. After everything they had gone through, and everything they had done for each other, right now, they were both glad to simply be in the other's company.