Disclaimer: All rights belong to Fox and David Shore. I make no money from this.
Author's Note:
We're somewhere in season three, let's say. We've got the old team and no Tritter.


House frowned as he spotted Cuddy walking down the hallway. He hurried after her, glad her pace wasn't fast enough that he couldn't catch up. He stepped alongside of her.

"What?" House demanded.

Cuddy glanced over at him, her eyebrows drawn. "Hi to you, too."

"Don't give me that," House told her. "What do you want?"

"Who said I wanted anything?" Cuddy asked and stopped in front of the elevators. She pushed the up button.

House maneuvered around her and stood across from her. "Just about everyone I've come in contact with."

"Well, I don't know what to tell you, House." Cuddy shrugged. "I didn't tell anyone I wanted you for any reason."

House narrowed his eyes at her. "Why are you doing this?"

The elevator doors slid open and Cuddy stepped inside. House followed her in, wanting his answer. Cuddy pressed the button for the top floor and House rode along.

"Okay." Cuddy nodded after the doors slid shut. "I did ask for you. I have to make one stop and then we can talk, all right?"

"Talk about what?" House leaned against the side of the elevator. "Your burning love for me?"

Cuddy shot him a look instead of a reprimand since they were currently alone.

"I'll let you know what it's about," she said.

"Let me know now," House whined only because he knew it irritated her.

"Here's not the place," Cuddy replied.

House took an accusatory step closer to her. "Why didn't you directly find me and ask me?"

"I couldn't find you," she answered.

The elevator doors slid open and Cuddy stepped out. House followed after her down the hallway. Cuddy stopped before reaching the doors that would lead them into the Psychiatric Ward.

She walked into the office on her left and House continued to follow her. He froze once inside the room, knowing that he was right in his suspicions of Cuddy. He was being set up.

"Why are we here?" House asked.

Cuddy extended a form she had been clutching the entire time House had been in her presence. The overweight woman with graying hair that sat behind the desk took the form and looked it over. The name plate on the desk identified this woman as Lorraine Smithson.

"Signed, sealed, delivered." Cuddy said and gave a glance at House, wanting to gauge his reaction.

House merely stared at her. "Are you serious?"

"Pee in the cup, Dr. House," Lorraine told him and held out a plastic cup with lid.

House kept his attention on Cuddy, displaying a look of hurt and shock. Cuddy sheepishly refused to meet his gaze.

"The cup, House." Cuddy stared at the cup in Lorraine's hand.

"Don't have to go," House replied.

"Drink some water," Lorraine offered the solution in a harsh tone.

House shook his head. "Don't think that'll work."

Cuddy finally brought her eyes over to him and hissed, "it will if you drink enough."

"Sure you don't need a sperm sample?" House raised his eyebrows in Lorraine's direction.

"Urine." Lorraine clearly wasn't playing along by the lack of any emotion on her face.

House's eyes went back to Cuddy as he swiped the empty plastic cup from Lorraine's outstretched hand. He glared at Cuddy before entering the small bathroom adjoined to the office.

Cuddy looked to Lorraine and gave her an apologetic smile for House's behavior. "Sorry."

"Quite all right." Lorraine's tone indicated otherwise. "Get that behavior a lot from drug addicts."

Cuddy kept her mouth shut. Lorraine marked a few notes down on the form Cuddy had given her. Letting out a quiet sigh, Cuddy looked around the small office.

"I seemed to have dropped the cup in the toilet," House spoke up from inside the bathroom. "Can I get another?"

"No." Lorraine glared in the direction of the bathroom. "Do I need to come in there?"

House didn't answer and Cuddy folded her arms over her chest, waiting for his next act of disobedience. The toilet flushed. Then, it flushed again. And again. Cuddy became alarmed.

"Are you trying to flush the cup?" Lorraine called out and stood from her chair.

Taking her keys from her pocket, Lorraine hurriedly crossed to the bathroom. Cuddy felt color rise to her face with embarrassment over House's actions. Lorraine opened the door to reveal House standing there, a smirk on his face, and holding the sealed cup of urine out for her.

Lorraine glared at House, took the cup, and walked it back over to her desk. She sat down behind the desk and filled out a few more spots on the form. Cuddy also shot a glare in House's direction as he pretended not to notice.

"That's it, then?" House asked Lorraine.

"Sign here."

Lorraine marked an X at the bottom of the form and slid it across the desk to House. He bent down and scrawled his signature where she indicated.

"That's it," Lorraine told him.

House turned and limped from the room. Cuddy gave Lorraine a tight smile before following House out. He was heading for the elevators and Cuddy caught up to his side.

"Thanks for acting completely childish," she sneered in his direction, not looking over at him.

House stopped and faced her. "Thanks for letting me know about the drug test."

"I wasn't allowed," Cuddy replied, annoyed because he knew she couldn't tell him.

House reached into his pocket and pulled out his Vicodin bottle. He popped two pills into his mouth while Cuddy stared at him in disbelief.

"Why did I need one?" House asked.

"Insurance." Cuddy's eyes followed his movements as he replaced the Vicodin back in his pocket. Her eyes went back to his. "And when you fail because you're over your limit, I'll have to call our lawyer-"

"I won't fail," he cut her off.

"Oh?" She raised her eyebrows.

"Nope," House replied, his head held high.

Cuddy quickly connected the dots. "You knew."

House shrugged innocently, but it gave him away. Cuddy shook her head, wondering how he figured it out. She opened her mouth to coax the truth out of him, but stopped when she heard a strange noise.

A loud sputtering noise accompanied by the sound of a low flying airplane grew increasing louder. Cuddy's eyebrows drew together in confusion as she looked in the direction the sound seemed to be coming from.

There was a loud crash and an explosion. The heat hit first, then shards of glass and pieces of metal. House grabbed Cuddy at the waist and pulled her into the empty waiting room on their left in order to avoid the fireball tearing up the hallway.

The walls of the waiting room were shaking and Cuddy could only clutch onto House, panic having frozen her for the moment. House kept his arm around her, his cane forsaken and his thigh throbbing with pain.

Smoke was quickly filling up the room. Cuddy yanked House down to the ground, as she lowered herself down as well, only seconds before the walls and roof collapsed in on them.


Wilson hurriedly ducked around medical staff, firefighters, and police officers as he finally found where House's team was. Cameron spotted him first as she finished stitching the head of a woman injured outside of the hospital by falling debris.

Chase was flipping through a medical chart of the patient Foreman was taking care of on the bed next to Cameron's patient.

"Where's Dr. Cuddy?" Foreman asked even before Wilson reached them.

The emergency room, as well as the rest of the hospital, had been in complete chaos since a small plane's engine had failed, causing the plane to crash into the hospital.

Wilson planted his hands to his hips. "She hasn't been answering her pages."

"Do you think she was up there?" Chase asked, raising his eyebrows.

"She had no reason to be." Wilson shook his head.

"Except for House," Cameron spoke up and finished off her sutures.

Wilson frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Cuddy had been looking for him all day," Cameron explained.

"Well, where's House?"

Wilson realized that in his search for Cuddy, and in his sidetracking of helping move patients, he never once saw House.

"He went off to find Cuddy," Chase said.

"Half hour or so before the crash," Cameron added.

"You've got to be kidding me." Wilson took a step back and turned around to walk off, but he stopped and turned back around. "Do you know why she wanted him?"

Cameron shrugged. "No clue."

"And House hasn't answered any pages?" Wilson needed to make sure.

"No, but that's not unlike him," Foreman replied. "Though, his cell phone went straight to voicemail."

"So, it may be safe to assume they're together and possibly at the crash sight," Wilson concluded.

Chase looked back down at the chart in his hands while Foreman went back to the patient in front of him. Cameron held Wilson's eye for only a moment, before directing her gaze downward. No one had answers and any explanation they could think of, they hoped was wrong.


Cuddy was aware of her surroundings long before she opened her eyes. Her body was crushed, from her upper back all the way down the rest of her body. Her right arm was bent backwards and a large object was keeping it there.

She was able to move her left arm and she was aware of the fact that there was a cavity of space around it and her head. She faded in and out of consciousness, and knew there was a gash across her forehead.

As she turned her head in another bout of consciousness, she decided to open her eyes.

It was dark and the air tasted smoky. Cuddy ran her left hand out, feeling for anything. She hit splintered wood, brick, something soft and warm. Cuddy clutched onto it. It was a hand.

"Hey," her voice came out, nothing above a whisper. "Hey." She tried again. Still inaudible.

Cuddy shook the hand. It jerked.

"House," she croaked.

"Cuddy." His voice was just as rough as hers.

"What the hell... happened?" The longer sentences were harder since her breathing was being restricted from all the weight.

"This your hand?" House asked and Cuddy was unsure if he ignored her question or never heard it to begin with.

She felt his fingers squeeze her hand. She squeezed back.

"Yes," Cuddy answered his question. "I'm right here."

"I can't move anything," he told her.

"Just my arm and head," she replied.

"Wish I was you," House said.

"No." Cuddy felt tears in her eyes. "I can't feel... my legs."

"What?" House squeezed her hand slightly.

"My legs." Cuddy drew in a shaky breath. "I can't feel them."

"They're probably numb from the weight," House offered as an explanation, not wanting her to become upset.

"There's no pain."

House fell quiet, hoping that Cuddy wasn't as seriously injured as she seemed. Cuddy lost herself in her own worried thoughts.

"We should call out for help," House spoke up.

Cuddy looked over to where her hand was. "Think anyone will hear us?"

House applied a bit of pressure to her hand. "Couldn't hurt to try."

"On three." Cuddy paused a moment to draw in a breath. "It'll be louder. One... two... three."

Together, House and Cuddy cried out for help, their voices straining to be heard by anyone. They were greeted with quiet.

"Try again?" House asked her.

"Let me... catch my breath." Cuddy took in a few breaths, as deep as she could. "Can you breathe... all right?"

"Yeah," House answered. "Must have a bit of room somewhere."

"Okay." Cuddy nodded slightly, even though he couldn't see her. "Count of three."

"I'll count," House offered, since Cuddy was having trouble breathing. "One, two, three."

Again, the two called for help. Again, they were met with quiet. For the next hour, House and Cuddy repeated this process, making sure to take breaks for Cuddy to catch her breath.

"I can't anymore," Cuddy finally told him, feeling exhausted.

"We'll try more later," House said.

"Okay." Cuddy was wheezing.

"Are you okay?" House's tone indicated his concern.

Colorful spots popped up over Cuddy's darkness and she felt nauseous. She let her head rest and closed her eyes.

"Hey." House squeezed her limp hand. "Lisa, hey..."

"Hm?" Cuddy raised her head slightly, eyes still closed.

He gave her hand another squeeze. "What's going on?"

"My head's bleeding." Cuddy let her head rest again.

"How bad?" House asked.

"It's all over," Cuddy mumbled, hating the taste of blood mixed with dirt in her mouth.

"Can you apply pressure?" House said.

"No."

"What about with your hand?" House loosened his grip on her hand.

She clutched onto him tighter. "No."

"We'll get out of here." House tried to be optimistic only for her.

"Uh-huh," Cuddy agreed, whether she believed it or not.

"I'm sure there's already teams looking," he added.

"Yeah," she replied.

"Please, stay awake," House pleaded.

"House..." Cuddy gave his hand a squeeze.

"Stay with me."

Cuddy's hand went limp, but it still remained warm. House shifted slightly, every muscle screaming in pain. He was completely trapped, his head unable to move. He was staring to the side, seeing nothing, but black.

"Help!" he shouted. "Help!"

House listened, hoping to hear movement or someone calling back, but there wasn't a sound. He gave Cuddy's hand a gentle squeeze. It helped him feel less alone.