A/N: So Please Don't Leave Me is currently on hiatus because way back in June my muse decided to run away from me. This story was written back in May and is very angsty and tragic. It is about...*thinks for a moment* 5 chapters long, all unrelated.

WARNING: Major character death(s).

I wanted to write a story where I had the characters deal with the death of someone they loved.

A/N 2: This chapter is Cuddy's. Just because my Huddy fan-girl has been getting absolutely crushed with Lucas being here. Lucas is actually making me get very angry at Cuddy and I don't like it.

Enjoy, and as always, reviews are welcomed.

Could it be any harder?

I'm all alone, I'm all alone.

Like sand on my feet, the smell of sweet perfume

You'd stick to me forever, baby.

And I wish you didn't go.

I wish you didn't go away.

To touch you again, with life in your hands

It couldn't be any harder.

~Could It Be Any Harder, The Calling


She sat next to him at the bar and watched as he downed a glass of scotch. "How many have you had?"

"Not enough," he replied without looking at her. House gestured to the bartender for another drink.

"Drinking won't help; it'll only dull the pain."

"Sure it will; I just haven't drank enough yet." House looked up at the brunette. "Why are you here?"

Her eyes locked with his. "Are you trying to kill yourself? Because at the rate you're drinking, you're going to do it."

"Now why would I want to kill myself?" He spat out. "I only caused my boss's death; I killed the woman I loved." His voice was low as he spoke. "Now I'm out of a job, but other than that, my life is fucking fantastic!" House turned to her. "So you know what, Cuddy? You can go back to your afterlife in peace knowing that I'm okay."

Cuddy didn't think spirits could cry, but she could feel the tears building. "It wasn't you fault, House. You had no idea that he would come back. It's been over two years since he shot you. You didn't know."

His blue eyes were filled with sorrow and blame. "And that's supposed to make it okay?"

"It's supposed to make you not feel guilty," she replied.

"Well it doesn't." He looked back down into his scotch.

Cuddy sighed softly. "Please don't hurt yourself, House," she whispered before disappearing.

He could feel the moment she left and let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. She was right; maybe he was trying to kill himself. But in one aspect, Cuddy was wrong. He should have known Jack would be back; he should have saved her. He should have been the one to die. Not her.


He smiled at her as he walked into her office. "What do you want, House?" Cuddy asked, not looking up from her paperwork.

"It's late," he told her. "You need to sleep."

"I can't, I need to finish this tonight." She continued to write.

"Why didn't you do it last night?"

Cuddy looked up to him. "I tried, but somebody wanted sex." She smiled and went back to her work.

House smiled at her and sat in front of her desk. "Actually I've been thinking about that..."

"About us having sex?"

"About what we're doing."

"Which is having sex."

House took a deep breath. "I love you."

Her hand paused in writing, then resumed. "Very funny."

He stood up and walked to her side. He laid a hand over hers and waited until her eyes met his. "I love you."

There was silence between them. "You're serious?" He nodded.

"I. Love. You," he replied once more. "Need convincing?"

Cuddy smiled up at him. "Maybe just a little..."

House grinned at leaned towards her. "I. Love. You." He accentuated each world with a soft kiss.

"I love you too," she whispered breathlessly as he pulled away.

Cuddy kissed him again. She gasped into his mouth as pain shot through her abdomen. House pulled away from her as her hands went to her stomach. "What's wrong?" He moved her hands and saw them covered with blood.


"Maybe this will be enough to make you kill yourself," a voice from the door called.

House looked away from Cuddy. "You son of a bitch!" He yelled to Jack.

Jack was holding a gun with a silencer on it and smiling at House. "If I'm right, I get to kill two birds with one stone, or in this case, bullet. But if I'm wrong, then I get to see you suffer." House gently laid Cuddy on the floor and began applying pressure to her wound. "Thank you so much for setting up such a tragic scene too! I mean, it was perfect; you just admitted your love for each other and then I shot her!" Jack began laughing.

"I need you to hold on, Cuddy, okay?" She nodded. "I'll be right back." House stood and began walking to the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Jack asked as he leveled the gun with House's head.

"I need to stop the bleeding."

"I don't think so," he replied.

"If I don't, she'll die!" House yelled.

The gunman smiled. "Exactly." House scowled at him and began walking. "I wouldn't."

"So shoot me."

"It's not you I'll shoot; it's her." Jack aimed the gun at Cuddy and fired. The bullet flew past her and she jumped and cried out in pain. "You might want to go back to your girlfriend; she might not have much time left."

House glared at Jack and walked back to Cuddy. He sat down and gently laid her head in his lap. "You're going to be okay," he whispered to her.

Cuddy looked into his eyes. "I'm cold."

"I know you are." He pulled her closer to him, trying to warm her.

"House," she whispered. He turned to her. "I don't think..." Cuddy took a breath. "I don't think I can hold on much longer."

"Cuddy, you have to fight."

"I can't. I'm not strong enough." Tears began falling from her blue eyes.

House could feel the tears building up. "Yes you are; you're strong enough to fight."

Her breath was coming in shallow gasps. "I...can't. It hurts. I'm sorry."

A tear fell from his eye and landed on her cheek. "It's okay."

"Please don't be made at me," Cuddy whispered.

"I could never be mad at you."

She nodded slightly and closed her eyes. They sat like that in silence for a while, her ragged breaths filling the space between them. Her eyes opened and she stared into his. "I love you," she whispered with her last breath.

"I love you too." House could hear the office doors being forced open; security arresting Jack; Wilson and his team/former team members walking towards him.

"House," Wilson called to him. He looked to his fallen friend and saw the blood covering Cuddy. "I need some help in here!" The oncologist yelled over his shoulder.

"She's gone, Wilson," House replied, his voice betraying no emotion. "He killed her in front of me."

"House," Cameron tried.

"She's gone..."


He was still staring into the amber liquid as the bartender came over to him. "Hey buddy, you okay?"

House looked up. "Yeah, I'm fine." He reached into his pocket and pulled out some money. "Thanks for the scotch," he said as he tossed the bills on to bar and limped out. The night was pleasantly chilly as he stepped out and looked to the stars in the sky. Their luminance did nothing for the darkness that surrounded him. He sighed and turned his eyes to the ground. 'I should be dead. Not her.' The irony struck him that the miserable misanthrope got to live while the person who loved life was cruelly ripped away from it. Just like Amber. Just like Kutner. And now, just like Cuddy.

He stepped down from the sidewalk and began crossing the street when he stopped suddenly. His leg hurt. More than usual. Slowly he reached down and massaged his thigh, wincing slightly at the pain. A light began coming towards him, but he couldn't move, not with his leg cramping. It was coming at him faster now, the light becoming brighter. 'No amount of vicodin will make this feel okay.' He thought wirily. House closed his eyes and took a deep breath as the car was inches from him. He was thrown on impact, landing roughly on his right side, his head bouncing off the pavement. The pain pushed him into unconsciousness. "Oh my god!" He heard vaguely before surrendering to the darkness.


"Male, 46, hit by a car while crossing the street by Sherrie's Bar," the EMT told Cameron as they wheeled the stretcher in. Cameron looked down at the patient and gasped. "House."

Thirteen heard Cameron gasp and walked over to her. "What's wrong?"

"It's House..." Thirteen looked down, seeing House for the first time covered in blood.

"Oh my god..." She turned to the bustle of the ER. "Somebody page Doctors Wilson, Taub, Chase and Foreman!" One of the nurses nodded and ran off.

"His BP is dropping." She heard Cameron say.


House watched them work on his body from afar. He saw Wilson run into the room followed by Chase, Taub and Foreman. "So that's it?" A voice from behind him said. "You're giving up?" He turned to Cuddy.

House heard himself crash. "That's it."

There were tears in her eyes. "No, you have to fight!"

"I have nothing to fight for, Cuddy."

"Yes you do! Fight for Wilson! Fight for you fellows!"

He smiled at her. "No, because if I'm here, I get to have you."

"Clear!" Thirteen yelled.

"House, don't do this. Please don't do this..."

"I'm fighting, bit I'm fighting to be with you."

"I'm dead! You're not!"

He smiled again. "Soon." She sighed. "I love you, Lisa," he said while pulling her to him.

"I love you too," she whispered. They stayed in each other's embrace.

"Time of death," they heard Chase announce. "2:03" The six doctors stood around his body and Chase slowly pulled the sheet over House's head.

"At least he's not in pain anymore..." Wilson said.

"And now he's with Cuddy again," Cameron whispered softly.

Taub was silent for a moment. "So we should be happy he's dead because he's happy?"

Foreman sighed. "As horrible as it sounds, yeah. He wouldn't want us to be sad, especially if he's pain-free and with Cuddy." They all smiled softly.

"I'm still going to miss him," Thirteen confessed.

"We all are," Chase replied.