A/N: There is/will be violence, sex, and at certain parts A LOT of cussing. I recommend not reading this unless you're at least 18.
The idea is from an episode of Charmed, but I won't say which one or it will completely screw up everything I have planned.

You guys need to play detective. Things aren't going to just suddenly fall into place. Several mysteries won't be answered until the end, such as the mirrors.

"What the hell?"

Cuddy's forehead wrinkled at the sight of her front door wide open. There was no way she had left it that way; she was too neurotic for that, and no one she knew would be so careless as to leave it that way. That left one other option; someone she didn't know had made themselves right at home.

Her steps became lighter as she neared the door, her hand diving into her purse until it cam in contact with the cool metal of her pepper spray bottle. She doubted that anyone was still there, but she wasn't taking any chances.

There were no lights on; save for the lamp in the living room, and the one above the stove; both of which she had left on before leaving for the day.

She lightly stepped through the foyer, stopping when she felt something crunch beneath her foot, accompanied with the sharp sound of glass breaking. Her head instinctively shot out, and flipped the light on.

The moment it was on she noticed that the mirror next to the light switch was shattered, and looking down at her feet only confirmed that.

She placed a hand on the table against the wall, stepping over the shattered glass, and into the living room. The first mirror had seemed like an accident; maybe the intruder had opened the door too hard and smashed it in the process, but the fact that there were three more broken mirrors (two in the living room, one in the hall) led her to believe that it was done deliberately.

What was the point of that? She had a 42' HDTV sitting right in her living room, and they hadn't even touched it. Instead they'd taken the time to break every mirror in her house, it wasn't heartbreaking, just a pain in the ass.

She let out an exasperated sigh as she walked to the center of her living room, her hands running over her face. If they hadn't taken her TV maybe they hadn't taken anything else; at least that was what she was hoping for.

It made her feel so violated to know that someone had been in her home without her permission. Her home was her sanctuary, she felt safe there, and now that a stranger had been able to get in she felt like that safety had been stolen.

Her fingers trailed over her lips as she tried to decide whether or not to call the cops; or if she'd even be able to tell them what had happened. Broken mirrors weren't exactly a felony, it was just weird.

Before she had even begun to think about the course of action she would take she heard footsteps behind her. They were soft, and slow; but they were there. Her body froze, her eyes widening. She was too scared to return her hand to her purse for her pepper spray, and even more afraid to turn around; but she knew she couldn't just stand there.

She found herself regretting the fact that she always wore heels, because it was going to be a little hard to run. She decided to make her move before she lost her nerve, and spun around only to be met with the feeling of her body slamming into another. She let out an involuntary scream that was cut off by a searing pain in her head.

Her body fell to the floor with a loud thump, followed by another more metallic one. She groaned as she heard the footsteps come closer and felt something brush against her cheek before the steps moved away again.

And then she was out. She hadn't seen anything, hadn't heard any voices, but something told her that whoever had been in her home hadn't been there to rob her.


The doors of his office crashed open, causing him to curse under his breath as he spilled a bit of his coffee onto his pants.

"It's called knocking!"

He looked up to see the worried faces of his team, and Wilson.

"Is this an intervention?"

"It's Cuddy."

"Funny…I didn't know I was addicted to her."

Wilson rolled his eyes as he placed his hands on his hips, shaking his head so that his hair swung over her forehead.

"No, Cuddy was just brought in by the paramedics, her gardener found her unconscious on her living room floor."

His eyebrows knitted together as he leaned forward, his hand instantly going to his cane. He stood up quickly, rounding his desk, and made his way out of his office, the other five in tow.

"Is she responsive?"

Thirteen chimed in as she jogged along side him; for a cripple he sure could move fast.

"She's awake now. She was slipping in and out in the ambulance but everything seems fine."

House hurried onto the elevator, jabbing his finger at the button to close the doors.

"She's on the third floor!"

Wilson shouted to him before the doors had shut all the way, and he hit the button with the giant '3' on it. He should have guessed that. That was where the fancy, private rooms were, and Cuddy was definitely the kind of person that would get one.

The second the doors slid open he launched himself into the hall, hobbling toward Cuddy's room. It was obvious which one was hers as there was a mob of people waiting outside. He pushed his way through the crowd, and pulled the glass door to the side, letting himself in.

Her room was filled with balloons, flowers, cards, and stuffed animals of various species; apparently it didn't take long for word of the Dean of Medicine being admitted to get out, and everyone no doubt wanted to be on Cuddy's good side when she recovered.

She lifted her head at the sound of House's cane tapping rhythmically on the tile floor. Her hand held the ice pack against her forehead, but it still didn't cover the bruising, and swelling that had made its way to her left eye.

It could have been worse. She could be dead, or in a coma, or she could have been kidnapped and ended up in much worse shape.

House made his way over to her bed, gently grabbing her wrist and pulled her hand away to examine the three small stitches in the middle of the golf ball sized lump.

"You have a fan club in the hall."

"I know. I saw them."

"What happened?"

"I don't know."

She pulled her hand away, pressing the ice pack back to her forehead. It was throbbing, and the headache she had was nearly blinding.


"I don't! I came home, the door was open, all the mirrors in my house were smashed, and then…that's all I can remember."

"Well, there was obviously someone there. Didn't you see them?"

"If I did I'm pretty sure I would have told the police that."

"The police were here?"

She nodded slowly, not wanting to make the dizziness she felt any worse.

"Yeah…they're at my house now."

"Are you okay?"

"Yes. I mean…yeah, just a little shaken up."

"Was anything missing?"

"Not that I saw, just broken mirrors."

He nodded, letting his eyes travel over her face. She looked worried, and that was understandable.

"When are you checking out?"

"In a couple of hours. Wilson wants to make sure nothing else is wrong."

"He's your attending?"

She nodded, laying her head back on the pillow.

"Yeah, I guess he was the first doctor to hear that I was being brought in."

He nodded as he thumped his cane against the floor.

"Sooo…where are you going when you get out?"

"I don't know…I can't go back to my house; they're still investigating, and I don't really feel comfortable going back yet. I'll probably just get a hotel room."

"Why don't you stay with me?"

Both seemed a little surprised that he had asked her that.


"Yeah…I know. I just figured you'd rather sleep somewhere you know rather than some germ infested hotel room."

"Your place isn't much better."

He smirked at that, looking up at her; even in this state she didn't lose that mouth of hers.

"C'mon, what could go wrong?"


She waved her hand between the two of them, her forehead creased as much as possible without hurting herself.

"We are just a…we aren't anything."

"I know that."

"Then why are you here? You wouldn't be so caring, and supportive if we weren't sleeping together. Don't make this complicated."

"I'm not. I just figured you didn't need me to be an asshole right now."

"When has that ever stopped you before? If you start acting like you actually give a damn how I'm feeling then everything is just going to get confusing, and someone is going to end up getting hurt."

"You mean you're going to end up getting hurt."

"Yeah…face it House, your track record with women isn't without a few black marks."

"I may act like an arrogant son of a bitch; okay… I am an arrogant son of a bitch, but I don't always have to be one."

"Yes you do. You've said it yourself, 'people don't change'. I don't want you to put an act on for me, I'd rather have you be yourself than pretend to be something your not."

"Okay, fine. I want you come to my place because I'm horny, and if something happens to you I want to be there to make sure you don't die because then I'll have to go back to hookers, and I'll have to train a whole new Dean to twist to my ever beckon call."

Cuddy pursed her lips together, nodding slowly.

"Less than twenty-four hours after a concussion and you're already thinking about sex. I think that might be a new record for you."

"Nah, I'm pretty much always thinking about sex."

"So I've noticed."

"You gonna come or not?"

"Depends on how hard you work for it."

He smirked, wagging his pointer finger at her.

"Oh, how naughty my little school girl can be."

Her eyebrow raised in question as she brought the ice pack down.

"New fantasy, don't knock it till you try it."

"I'm not role playing with you."

He clicked his tongue and looked away, feigning a pout.

"Fine, I'll settle for desperate-middle-aged-boss-seeking-sperm-from-helpless-employee."

"You make me sound like a succubus."

"Well, you kinda are, but I prefer she-devil, sounds sexier."

"You're such an ass."

"You asked for it."

His hand gently smacked her thigh, and he squeezed it gently.

"I'll come by around five…maybe earlier since you can't get on my ass about doing clinic."

"You still have to do your job."

"Apparently you haven't read the studies. Because you're incapacitated at the moment half the people around here aren't going to do what they have to."

She squinted a bit, her head cocking to the side.

"It's a proven fact. When the boss isn't around the employees slack off. Kind of like that cat'n'mouse line…"

"Right. I'll see you at five."

"Aye, aye, capi-tan"

He stood up, limping his way to the door, when he slid it open there seemed to be more people there than before he had arrived.

"My god, people! She's not Britney Spears!"

The door slid shut behind him, and the smiled faded from her face before she let out a long sigh. She had no intention of letting anyone know just how scared she was. There had to have been some reason as to why whoever was in her home hadn't taken anything. People didn't usually break into someone's house just to smash a couple of mirrors, and hit the owner over the head.

Of course she could have just been paranoid; there was a very good possibility that she had just shown up at the worst possible time and the crook hadn't had time to get out with his loot.

Whatever the reason it didn't sit right with her, and the more she tried to forget about it the more she thought about it. She was glad House had invited her over, because even though he was a cripple, and probably couldn't fight worth a damn, she somehow felt much safer with him.

She sighed as she settled herself in the bed, deciding she needed to get some sleep now before it got dark, because the second the sun went down all of her fears would come out.