Author's note: This fic is heavily based on the Season 6 episode "Known Unknowns". It follows the plot line of that ep fairly closely. I always felt there was a lot of subtext that had been left out, so I wrote this to cover it.

If you enjoy it and want me to write a second chapter (I have one half-written) please comment. No comments = no second chapter :D

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House's Story

House grabbed his buzzing phone off the nightstand and opened the text he'd just received – it was from Foreman. Something about a patient, with X-Rays attached. House limped out of his bedroom, still in his pyjamas, squinting at the image on the screen. He stepped up to Wilson's bedroom door and commented sarcastically on Foreman's expectations for him to see anything on his phone screen. Belatedly he noticed that Wilson was packing a suit bag.

"Why are you packing?" House asked and half-listened as Wilson chewed him out for forgetting about some medical conference. As if he could possibly be interested in a conference on Pharmacology and Public Policy. He tuned back in to Wilson's rambling.

"…think of it as a vacation. Or not. I don't care, you're coming with."

House tried to think of an excuse to get out of going with Wilson to the conference, "You should come with me. State Pillow-Fighting Championships - $1 beers, wet t-shirts. In the words of the philosopher Eddie Money – I've got two tickets to paradise." He limped off, not satisfied that Wilson had been in any way convinced to ditch the boring conference.

He managed to avoid speaking to Wilson about the conference for the rest of the morning and on their trip into the hospital. Once there House dived head-first into mocking his fellows' diagnoses of the case they had managed to scrounge up. It sounded boring. Foreman's text had given him enough information to make a preliminary diagnosis on the patient.

"She's got Rhabdo…" he stated.

His team made their usual, predictable objections which he mostly ignored. He mentioned the pillow-fighting championship, hoping one of them would bite, knowing that none of them would actually want to go with him. Cameron made some objection to his diagnosis, so he made a snide comment about her relationship with Chase.

"It's Rhabdo." He repeated, mocked Cameron one more time and dismissed the team from the office to go run tests on the patient. Cameron remained behind, a hurt puppy-dog look on her face.

"What?" he asked, snidely.
"Why do you always have to be such an ass?"
"Why do you think I can be anything else but?"
"You know something is going on with Chase, you know what it is, and instead of rubbing it in my face because you know and I don't, you rub it in my face that you won't tell me. Since when do you keep anything personal a secret?"
"Since it became more interesting to watch the two of you dancing around each other."
"So you're trying to break us up instead? What, you suddenly decided that you want something now that you can't have it? You finally decided that you want me?"
"I've decided no such thing. I've told you more than once that I'm not interested in you. I just like to watch particles interact, add some heat, see what happens."
"You really are an ass."
"And a great one at that." He deflected as he walked out the door of his office.
"No wonder you're alone." Cameron replied.

House walked down the corridor, pretending he hadn't heard Cameron's final comment. He knew she still had a thing for him, that she was hiding it beneath dislike of him. He also knew that he had no interest in her. Sure, he had been once, but everything had gone numb long before he'd gone to Mayfield. Cameron had been one of the things he had purged from his system along with the drugs. There were a couple of things he hadn't been able to purge from his system though and it was these things that haunted him now. Once it had been the burn of the drugs running through his veins, now it was a different burn and a different drug.

He made his way to Cuddy's office and let himself in without knocking.

"Tell me what you came here for House."
"I've got a legitimate medical reason."
"You must be so proud."
House gave her a stunned look. "I've forgotten it…I guess it's no big deal since I was only using it as an excuse to come check out Patty and Selma" he leered down her shirt as she leant forwards over her desk.
"Well I feel bad. I haven't named your testicles. I don't know why you chose to give them the names of somebody's aunts"
"It's a compliment – they're always smokin'. Your outbox is three times normal size."
"There's a lot to be done before the weekend."
"You take papers home with you. Unless you're not going to be home. Unless you were, for example, going to a medical conference. "
"I'm driving up with Wilson."
"Me too."
"You aren't on the registration list."
"I love that you checked."
"But Wilson said…"
"That I have a case? Yeah, she's being discharged right now."

House left Cuddy's office and went straight back to his. Cameron had left by this stage, which gave him a little time to mull over his thoughts without interruption. Seeing Cuddy always made him feel a small icicle of…something…in the pit of his stomach. He didn't know why exactly he took such pleasure in mocking and humiliating Cuddy, but his day never seemed complete unless he had seen her at least once and had a verbal sparring match. If only that icicle in his stomach would melt.

He left his office to go tell Wilson he'd be joining him at the conference after all.

"So why did you change your mind?"
"Nobody would go with me to see scantily-clad girls beat each other up with pillows. I guess the next best thing was going to see medical morons beat themselves up intellectually."
"It's nice to see you have such a healthy level of respect for your peers."
"They're not my peers, they're just other doctors. Anyway, I call shotgun on the front seat."
"Oh. You found out Cuddy is getting a ride with me? Or rather, you found out that Cuddy is going to be at the conference. That's why you suddenly changed your mind."
"Cuddy has nothing to do with it. Charging room service and pay TV to your credit card has a lot to do with it."
"So glad you have your priorities straight."
"I aim to please. I'm heading home to pack."
"No need to. I did it already and your bag is in my car. We leave in an hour."

House went back to his office to play his Gameboy and avoid diagnosing the patient, who he was already certain had Rhabdomyolysis.

An hour and a half later House was sitting in Wilson's car as Wilson paced the sidewalk, waiting for Cuddy. House pulled out Wilson's conference package and started pulling everything out. Program guide, booth layout, some advertising from drug companies, and all the other general paraphernalia one usually found in these packages. Wilson stopped pacing and looked at House.

"Why are you reading my program guide? It's not like you plan on attending any of the presentations." He asked.
"I like to know how much boredom I'm missing. 'Patient Perceptions of Complications in End-Stage Chemotherapy'. You didn't tell me you were giving a paper."
"And that was wrong?"
"Last time you presented a paper you gave me an advanced copy and asked for feedback."
"And you're wondering why I wouldn't want to repeat that experience?"
"Oh look! An 80's party!" House deflected, "Just when you think you've left 'Flock of Seagulls' behind in your rear-view mirror suddenly it's up ahead like an un-dead hitchhiker."
"Cuddy's going."
"Did you pack my leg warmers?"
"If you want her, ask her out"
"My god man! She's not some floozy in a bar! She's the floozy I work for!"

At that point Cuddy walked out of the building with Rachel in her arms and a bag over her shoulder. House gave Wilson a meaningful look to which he got a quirked eyebrow in response before Wilson turned to help Cuddy with her bag. She got into the car and looked at House in the front seat.

"I called shotgun." House defended
"I didn't say anything."
"No, but I could hear you judging from back there. The front seat let's me stretch my leg out. I can't do that in the back seat."
"That's fine. Rachel's car seat has to go in the back anyway and I'd prefer to sit back here with her."
"So we're agreed then. You're not going to make me talk on the trip up are you?"
"Not if you don't want to. I was planning on using the trip to review papers anyway."
"Good."
"Good."
"Fine."
"Ok."

House turned back around in his seat and subtly watched Cuddy setting up Rachel's car seat and strapping the girl into it. The sunlight was shining through her hair, turning the mahogany strands red. He'd never noticed before how much red there was in her hair – under the fluorescent lights of the hospital it always looked dark brown. He preferred her hair now that it was longer – she'd always had it short when they were at school together.

Cuddy turned around to face the front of the car and House quickly averted his eyes. He didn't want her to know that he'd been watching her. That cold icicle was back in his stomach. He wished he knew how to make it go away.

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House debated whether or not to show up to the 80's party. On one hand, Cuddy would be there. On the other hand, he hated most of the 80's and normally wouldn't be caught dead wearing any 80's-style fashions. Cuddy or humiliation. Humiliation for Cuddy. Now there was an idea….

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House limped into the party wearing a King George-style 18th century outfit. He'd intentionally misread the party invitation, hoping that making a public spectacle of himself would earn at least some humiliation points with Cuddy. Maybe if he made enough of a fool of himself in public then she would realise that he was a changed man. He scanned the throng looking for Cuddy amongst the retro-clad people. He finally spotted her in the crowd and made his way towards her.

"House! 1980's!"
"Are you sure? They weren't specific."
"How much did it cost you to rent that?"
"It was in Wilson's bag."

At that point an annoying partier came up and interrupted them. He flirted outrageously with Cuddy. House saw the panicked look on Cuddy's face and decided not to be an ass, and rescued her from the idiot by taking her out onto the dance floor.

"Thank you. Your leg?"
"I'm ok. As long as you don't expect rhythm."

House started dancing to the song that was playing. In a few seconds it ended and a slow song started. House gave Cuddy a resigned look and she grinned at him. She put her arms around his neck as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Being this close to her he could smell her perfume and the shampoo she'd washed her hair with. A faint whiff of strawberries tickled his nose. He resisted the temptation to bury his nose in her hair and take a deeper whiff. He tried to think of something to say that would alleviate his awkwardness.

"Remember the last time we danced? Med school – week we met" he said finally.
"No."
"I saw you, endocrinology. Tracked you down to the hoe down."
"I meant – we met before that. In the bookstore"
"Aah."
"My third day of school. I hand my syllabus to the guy behind the counter. He barely looks at me, just skims the sheet and tells me I'm overly ambitious, I have a chip on my shoulder and I know how to party" Cuddy laughs
"I'd forgotten you knew how to party."
"I said 'you're making that up'. And you said 'your class schedule is overloaded but none of your classes are before 11 and no-one takes Professor Lam's course unless they have something to prove.' "
"Cos Professor Segall covered the same ground and was the easier grader."
"I tracked you down. Endocrinology, the party."
"And one thing led to another."
"Then it didn't."

"I was going to call you…" he started to say. He was going to take this opportunity to tell her everything – what had happened back then, what had happened since, what was happening now. He felt the cold icicle in his stomach again.
Cuddy interrupted him, pulling out of his arms, "No. Don't do that. There was no expectations. I was just as into it as you…"

House wasn't going to let her take away his opportunity to finally tell her what he felt, "I was going to come see you. Figure out where things would go from there. That was the morning I got the call from the Dean and I was expelled from my first med school. Didn't seem any point..." House looked at her expectantly, not sure what exactly it was he was expecting.

"I should…go to my room, review papers for the infectious disease panel." Cuddy turned and walked away from him, almost running in her haste to leave.

House stood there for a few moments, stunned. He'd always pictured this moment differently. He'd always assumed that Cuddy would hear him out. Always assumed that she would be interested in what he had to say to her. He'd thought that he could fix the mistake he had made 20 years ago by finally explaining what had happened. Maybe if he'd had a chance to explain it to her then she would give him a second chance to make things right between them. He would tell her how that night with her had been the happiest he could remember, that he fell in love with her. If she only knew that it was his overwhelming shame at being expelled that kept him from coming to see her then maybe she would give him one more chance to be the significant other in her life.

He watched her retreating figure as she walked out of the room, momentarily contemplating chasing after her. He took one step forward and felt the muscle in his right leg spasm. There was no way he could chase her down, or even catch up with her. He thumped his cane on the ground and stalked off in the general direction Cuddy had gone. If he couldn't chase her down then at least he could chase his demons away. He stumbled into the bar and sat down on a stool.

When the barman came over and asked him what he wanted, he ordered a scotch on the rocks. When the drink arrived House paid the barman, picked up the glass and swirled the amber liquid around the ice. The clinking was an almost comforting sound, and the fumes rising from the alcohol had him anticipating the forthcoming oblivion. He raised the glass to his lips and inhaled the smell of the alcohol, before lowering it again. Once an addict, always an addict. Switching one drug for another didn't change the fact that he was an addict. He put the glass down on the bar, the glass clinking faintly as the ice shifted. He got up from the stool and headed up to the room he was sharing with Wilson.

Once there he changed quickly in the dark, not wanting to wake Wilson, not wanting to have to talk about what had happened that night. He got into bed and lay staring at the ceiling, wondering if there was any way he could fix how much he had screwed up his relationship with Cuddy. He wanted nothing more than to tell her how she made him feel, and she wanted nothing more than to treat him like a work colleague and ignore that there had ever been anything between them. He didn't know how to get around that. It wasn't like his usual puzzles – he couldn't experiment to find the solution. He had to work it out, implement it, and get it right all in the first go. He had a sneaking suspicion he had already missed his window and that the opportunity to fix the problem had already been and gone a long time ago.

Sometimes he wished he'd never gone to Mayfield and gotten straightened out. At least on the drugs he'd been so numb that he couldn't feel anything. Now he was in so much pain that every part of him hurt, physically and spiritually.

House closed his eyes and waited for sleep to come and give him some release from his miserable existence.

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Now remember…no comments, no more chapters. If you loved it, hated it, think I'm off my rocker, whatever! Please comment I live for feedback.