Disclaimer: Not my characters. My story though.

Reviews: Oh please do - I haven't written fan fic for 20 years so I apologise if this is rough. It's ok - I can take (constructive) criticism. Thanks earthdrago for beta-ing for me!

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes
Please note, there is a soundtrack that goes with this piece - click: .com/14077944587/standalone

The Clinic 1..

"I'm in pain!" the angry voice cried out from the exam room. There was a sharp clatter of an instrument tray being thrown across the room. "I need drugs. Get me something for the pain. Get me a drink. Anything." The staff looked anxiously at House as he stood outside the door about to enter. This was a repeat patient; an old man who was dying. He was an angry, lonely old bastard who came in every now and then to demand drugs and vent his anger at whomever he could get to. House opened the door and Wilson walked by just as another tray went flying through it, just missing the two of them. Wilson laughed and commented "You, in 30 to 40 years, assuming you live that long." He walked on without waiting for a reply.

"Great. Just what the world needs - another me…"

House's office…

He sat quietly at his desk. No playing with his tennis ball, no music, no computer, no Gameboy. Just himself and his thoughts in the dwindling light. His bottle of Vicodin was in front of him, next to a bottle of scotch and a glass that was half-empty. There were 4 other bottles of Vicodin – his private stash from his home and office. He hadn't touched the glass since pouring it hours ago, and couldn't remember when he had last taken a pill… His leg hurt, his head hurt, but most annoying was how his heart hurt.

He knew what he needed to do, he just wasn't sure he could do it.

She was right. He had been a bastard. He didn't want to share her, but if he didn't learn how, he was going to lose her. The risk she had taken to save that child, she had been foolish to go down to the shelter at night by herself but there was no way she would lose her second chance.

Slowly he stood up, picked up the bottles from his desk, found his cane and stood for a moment, willing himself to do what he knew he had to do. It was a long walk to her office.

Cuddy's Office…

It was late, very late. Too much paperwork to get done. She was going to have to learn how to delegate more of this stuff. Soon she wouldn't be able to stay this late very often. But the trade offs were worth it. That tiny life would need her. She couldn't wait until she got her daughter home. She had a few more days, but there was still so much to do to get everything ready. She wished she didn't have to do this alone, but she also didn't want this opportunity to pass her by. She let her mind drift from the billing, budgeting and other business on her desk, turning and looking at the stars out her window.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her door opening. She turned quickly and nervously. She had thought she was the only one in this part of the building. The stillness was why she liked working this late. House stood in the doorway, hesitant, nervous, almost as if he was afraid to disturb her. Odd. He had never been so unsure of himself, particularly around her. Where was his usual swagger, his arrogance, his … all of it?

He asked quietly, "Do you have a moment?"

She was stunned. He had NEVER asked for permission is as long as she could remember. What did he have up his sleeve? She was uncomfortable around him lately. He had been so demeaning lately, cutting her like he had never done in the past. They had always snarked back and forth, each giving as well as they were getting, but lately, he was truly cutting, hitting her hard emotionally. She knew this past year had been rough on him, on both of them – her decision to get pregnant, the miscarriage, the adoption that came apart at the last moment. Why did he have to be such a bastard when she knew what a kind man he could when he wanted?

And his kiss… It had been so unexpected. The sexual tension had always been there, buried under all the tit-for-tat. Ever since she had hired him almost 10 years ago, they had danced around the pull they had both felt. It wouldn't be right. She was the Dean of Medicine after all; he was a drug addict, and alcoholic, a condescending bastard of monumental proportions. He was also her employee; that was another problem. And yet…

He slowly walked forward, putting the bottle of scotch and the bottles of Vicodin on her desk. He was quiet for another minute, trying to figure out how to say what he needed to say. She let him stand there. She was not going to make it easy for him.

"Cud-," he interrupted himself before he could finish. They had called each other by their last names for years - a way to keep each other at arm's length. No more. No more games. He took a breath and started again.

"You were right, Lisa" he said quietly, almost even apologetically. He waited until he could meet her gaze. "I'm an arrogant bastard. I've had to negate everything. I don't want to share you. But I can't lose you either."

He paused, dropping his head, eyes to the floor. The intensity of being in the same room with her was almost too much to bear. He looked up, meeting her gaze again. "That's everything that's left. No more booze in my apartment. No more pills. You have everything I've ever needed. Everything I'll ever need."

She sat in a stunned silence. If he had walked in stark naked she would have been less surprised. He had bared his soul to her in those few sentences. This was not the House she knew – the snarky arrogant man with all the answers. She was so shocked she couldn't say anything. He looked at her, exposed, hoping for a reaction. She had none. He turned and walked out.

The next day, the Differential Room…

Taub, 13, and Kutner walked into the room to see House starting at the white board, holding the marker. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. But more than that, he was distracted and distant.

They looked at him, at each other and sat down, waiting for House to say anything. He tossed a file over to the table and barked "Ideas?"

It was a nothing case, the team tossed around ideas, bantered back and forth. Nothing interesting, nothing truly engaging, but it least it kept House occupied

"House?" Wilson interrupted the discussion. "Um, I spoke with Cuddy this morning. I thought you might need some coffee… It'll help." He handed over a cup of coffee and hoped House would realize he had included a dose of anti-depressant and aspirin. Not as strong as what he was used to, but it would help with any pain and withdrawal he was having. "Lunch later?"

"Yeah, Hoagie Haven?" House didn't wait for an answer, taking a heavy drink of the coffee, picking up the marker and going back to the board. He knew Cuddy and Wilson would have agreed to spike his coffee – it had worked in the past.

Wilson paused at the door, watching his friend relax a bit after taking a mouthful of coffee. House looked up, nodded at his friend, acknowledging his help.

Later, at Hoagie Haven…

"What did you say to Cuddy?" Wilson exploded at him. "She called me at 4 this morning totally confused. You gave her ALL your Vicodin? Seriously? Is this a joke? She can't take you pulling her strings any more. What the hell is the matter with you?"

"Yes. I gave her my Vicodin. And my scotch. And no, I'm not trying to put one over on her." He took a deep breath. " Cud-" he caught himself – that was going to be a hard habit to break, but not his only one. "Lisa needs someone she can count on, can depend on. I can't be that if I'm doped up and drunk… But I need your help. Can you keep the coffee coming everyday? Made your 'special' way? You were right, it helped."

Stunned, Wilson stared at him. Maybe he should get his hearing checked. Gregory House was actually asking for help. Admitting that the anti-depressants helped him, admitting he needed help giving up his Vicodin. He had said before that he was an addict but it wasn't a problem and he wasn't giving them up. But here he was, asking for his help.

"You know, you could actually just take the anti-depressants yourself. I'll prescribe a bottle for you –"

"No," House answered quickly. "I can't. I don't want to have anything in my hands. This way the two of you will know what I'm taking them and when I'm taking, that I haven't substituted anything in the bottle… You can tell Lisa what I'm doing, but not my team." Hmmmm. Lisa. It got easier to say her name. It felt better too.

"So are you telling me you're going to turn into some sweet Daddy type, kow-towing to Cuddy's every wish and demand? Be pleasant and kind to the staff? Actually see patients? Do your clinic hours like a good boy?" Wilson seemed completely thrown at this turn of events; it was hard to believe that his friend could back down.

"If that's what it takes… I don't know. I really don't. I am who I am, with or without the drugs. I'm crass. I'm arrogant. I know that. You know that. But sometimes it was just to see Lisa react. Anything to make her react to me and to play with me. Attention is attention." At least he had enough sense to be confused by what to do with himself. "I don't know if I can do what I do if I'm not me. But I have to change. For her, for the baby. Even if she doesn't want anything to do with me. I know I've been cruel to her lately. But when you see her holding that child. Her daughter…" He paused and looked at his friend. "Am I just an idiot? Is it too late? Can I change?"

"I don't know House. Really. I'll help you however I can, but I don't know. She's been really ticked at you. I'm not sure she'll ever forgive you, forget what you've done to her this past year. But if you're serious, I'll help."

Both of their cell phones rang – it was the team, the patient had taken a turn.

Later in Wilson's Office

Frustrated, House comes into Wilson's office with a stack of files and X-rays, looking like he has several cases to discuss with him. After a moment of pretense, Wilson interrupted and said, "What do you really want?"

"You know what I want. What I need."

"Then why aren't you pursuing her?"

"I don't know how dammit!" he yelled in anger and frustration and threw his cane across the room, hitting the windows and almost shattering them. "Don't you get it? How long have you known me? I just don't know how. I can't solve this puzzle." He paused, dropping to the couch in defeat. "No matter how much I want this to happen, I can't figure out how. … How to be what she wants, what she needs…what she deserves. How do I stop these stupid games with her? With every step closer, I have to screw it up and push her away." He paused, preparing himself for admitting to his friend "I watch you with women – you have a plan, a M.O. that you always use. It's formulaic, you know it, I know it, the women you use it on know it. But it works for you."

Wilson hated to see his friend in so much pain. No one could fix this one for him. House had to do this himself. He'd been trying to guide his friend gently for years; perhaps he needed to be more blunt. "Look. You're an ass. We all know that. But I also know you can be nice when you want to be. You got Cuddy her desk from school after the renovation of her office. When she was trying to get pregnant, you helped her with the injections and kept it all secret… You've been there for her, in your own twisted way, when she's really needed you. You just need to …well…trust her with yourself. "

He walked over and retrieved the cane from where it had fallen, taking a moment to check his window and the view, not looking at House. "You are so disconnected from everything. Cases are puzzles to you, not patients. But they're not puzzles– they are humans. Sex to you is anonymous - nameless, faceless, something you buy so that you don't have to be involved, so that you don't have to worry about living up to somebody else's standards. So you don't have to look them in the eye and acknowledge actual feeling."

He turned. "You have to make the effort to be nice. Buy her dinner; tell her she looks nice. Don't snark at her just to get her attention. Listen to what she is saying and what she is not saying. She wants this as much as you do and she's been pretty clear on that. You're the only idiot here. You have all the pieces you need. Take your cane and go finish your puzzle." With that he handed House his cane and opened the door for him, sending him on his way.

House's Apartment…

Lisa Cuddy stood outside the door. She didn't knock, just stared at the door. She took three steps back, turning to leave, but then turned back. This was silly. What was she, a schoolgirl with a crush? Sneaking over here and peeking through the windows to see whether he was home? This was just stupid. He wasn't going to change. House couldn't go a whole day without Vicodin – he must have a stash somewhere. He always did. This was just him messing with her head again.

Another minute passed. Well do something you idiot. Knock, leave, cry, something. Don't just stand there like a bump. Be the grown-up, Lord knows, he never will be.

She knocked. No answer. Now what? She turned and was face to face with House.

God, he smelled good. He had actually shaved, he was neat, clean, and made her weak in the knees. He was wearing the blue shirt that she always thought he looked good in. He had a takeout bag in his hand. All she wanted to do was lean against him and let him take care of her.

"Hi Lisa," he said. "Thought you might stop by. Taro Spring Roll?"

Lisa. It sounded nice to have him say her name. Not Cuddy and House, but Lisa and Gregory. Were they ready for that? Was the hospital?

When she didn't answer, he reached past her, careful not to brush his arm across her chest, not that he didn't ache to touch her, but because he didn't want to scare her off. It had been 5 days since he had gone into her office; 5 long days since he had seen her.

"Stay. Please?" Cuddy was surprised at the softness of his request, the sound of need in his voice.

Cuddy followed him into his apartment. It was neat and clean, cleaner than she had ever seen it. House hung his cane from the archway as he usually did and limped to the kitchen.

"I've had time on my hands lately...So I cleaned. Anything to keep me distracted. Moo shu? I stopped at Zen Palate… I know you like their food. I even have Key Lime High pie for you, I figured you'd like a sugar splurge this week. There's frozen yogurt in the freezer if you prefer, but I know how you feel about Zen's pie. … There's a bottle of merlot on the counter, glasses above. Let me get that. Why don't you sit down?" He was rambling, close to babbling. When did he become some adolescent boy nervous about having a woman so near?

He went into the kitchen, opened the wine, got glasses and plates, napkins, even and brought them back out to the living room. Thankfully, Lisa had taken off her jacket and was looking through his CD collection. God, she looked fabulous. She wasn't even wearing anything special, nothing low-cut, nothing like she would have on at the office. Jeans and a plain white v-neck t-shirt. Sneakers. Hair pulled back into a sweep that showed the nape of her neck. She looked like a kid. Ok, a voluptuous, alluring kid. She had taken the last 3 days off to put the final touches on the baby's room. How could she look so good just wearing that?

"Zen Palate? You don't normally go there… why bother if you can't get a decent steak for dinner you once said. You know I always get the Zenmaki. Why…? How…? How did you know I would be here? I didn't even know?

"I was riding home and saw your car heading this way… called in an order and picked it up... took a chance you'd still be here."

"That was…" she paused, confused. "That was nice."

She pulled a CD from the rack and after looking at the song list looked back at House quizzically. "Um, This is not the kind of music I figured you for. A 'mix-tape'? Interesting choices…" And with that she put the CD in and hit play.

The opening strains to "Alive Again" by Trey Anastasio started and it only took a moment for him to realize what CD she was talking about and quickly said, "That's not mine. Musta been Wilson's. Not my kinda music. Take it off – there has to be something else in there to listen to." He limped quickly to the stereo only to have her gently slap his hand away.

"I like it."

With that he turned gruffly and said "Dinner's on - table or couch?"

"Table's neater."

"Couch is more comfy… uh, yeah, table."

The CD continued to play softly and they made pleasant, meaningless conversation through dinner. Later, they seamlessly cleaned up together as if they had done it for years. She managed to hold back a comment when she opened the fridge to put away the leftovers and realized he must have been stopping by Zen Palate or Whole Foods everyday in hopes she would stop by his house.

House avoided being too snarky and Cuddy relaxed as the evening flowed on. She had to laugh at the variety and mix on the CD – pleasant, even romantic, as it switched back and forth from comedic ("I'm not wearing Underwear today"? Where did he find that one? Ironic, since she wasn't wearing any underwear today…), to idealistic to the occasional song that was truly Greg House – "Bad to the Bone," "Angry All the Time." He had such an eclectic taste in music. In everything.

"Thank you, that was good. I suppose I should be going, I need to finish some paperwork and finish the nursery and get things set up in my office…" her voice trailing, not really wanting to leave.

"There's a Black Adder marathon on tonight if you want to stay and watch. Should be fun. Don't worry about the office. I can bring you the paperwork tomorrow if you want…" He turned off the stereo and turned the TV on.

"Um, sure." How did we become awkward teenagers all the sudden, she thought, almost out loud.

"Best view of the TV is from the couch. Need another glass of wine?"

This evening was truly getting bizarre. Relaxing, pleasant, even, date-like. "It's getting late…"

"Stay? The silent 'please?' was inherent.

She did, curling next to him on the couch – it was unexpectedly comfortable. It felt natural.

Although the show was funny as promised, she had worked hard all day and dozed off, her head falling first to his shoulder and then, as he gently shifted under her, onto his left leg. House tugged the blanket off the back off the couch and let her sleep. He knew it would mean his leg would ache even more tomorrow, but he wasn't about to wake her. Softly stroking her hair, he fell asleep too.

House's Apartment, the Morning After

The sun streaming through the window in the early morning hours slowly woke her, snuggling against the warmth and musky smell of the man next to her, feeling warm and cozy until her mind processed that she had been sleeping with her head on House's lap and his arm was curled over her, gently resting across her breasts, cupping them possessively. She sat up quickly, waking House. Flustered, she found her sneakers and jacket while stammering "This isn't right… I'm sorry. I... I'm… I have to go. The nursery. I have to get home… er, to the office... no home…Um… Goodnight. Goodbye." And she was out the door, embarrassed beyond her belief.

"Well. That did not end well," said the master of understatement.

Wilson's Office

"The nursery in my office looks fabulous – thanks for arranging it." Cuddy stood in the doorway to Wilson's office.

Puzzled, Wilson said, "I didn't do it. Didn't know it had been done. Seen House lately?"

"No. Should I have? Are you saying he did the nursery? Are you accusing him of actually doing something nice for me?" It had been a week since she had gone to Greg's apartment and still couldn't figure out what it had meant. It had been a busy week with the baby finally being home and this was the first trip outside of the house. She was anxious to get back and check on the nanny. Learning how to manage both her new home life with her life at the hospital was going to be harder than she had thought. She wasn't used to being gone from the hospital for such a long period of time.

"God. The two of you. Would you just figure out what you both want and fall into the nearest bed and be done with it?" Wilson looked at her, noting the tinge of pink that had crept into her face. "Go home. I think dinner is waiting for you."

Cuddy's Home

The rain that had been threatening for days finally hit with a vengeance. Dripping wet and soaked to the skin, Cuddy let herself into the house and was surprised to see House sitting in her study.

With a smile, he said, "The spawn, I mean, your daughter is asleep. I sent the nanny off… Dinner is ready whenever you are. You should dry off, put on something...comfortable..."

"I will. Thanks. And thanks for setting up the nursery in my office. People are going to talk if you keep being this nice to me!"

His reply was cut off by a cry from the nursery.

"I'll get a bottle – do you want to feed her? The rocker is in my bedroom – I usually leave her in the cradle by my bed at night."

She gave him the bottle, picked up the baby and passed her to a surprised House who cradled the child and sat in the rocker. After the baby finished the bottle, he gently rocked her, amazed at the effect she had on him. She gazed back at him, holding his eyes until she softly faded to sleep. He looked up, surprised to see Lisa standing in the doorway watching him. Quietly he asked, "Do you have a name yet?" He had never asked before, never been interested; he always referred to her as the rug rat, parasite, pod person, anything rather than give her an identity.

"Yes. Rose, for my mother. And…. Blythe… for yours."

They were quiet for a bit, watching Rose sleep. When Lisa came over and took the baby from his arms and put her into her cradle, he realized that she had showered and changed into that silky nightgown and robe that she had worn the night he had kissed her. She was … beautiful, sensuous, and he couldn't take his eyes off her as she leaned over the cradle and kissed her daughter good night.

She turned and looked at him. "The weather is horrible outside. You shouldn't ride your motorcycle in this. There's a pair of pajamas in the spare room and the bed's made up in there.

He gave her a grin, his eyes twinkling with mischief, and makes a point to slowly rake her body with his eyes. "I'm not sleeping in the guest room, and I really won't need those pajamas…"

She laughed and smiled. "You're an ass, House."

"Yeah," he grinned. "But you love me anyway." And he leaned down to meet her lips with his and softly, slowly, gently, kissed her.

When they stopped, she softly said, "You are so sleeping in the other room!"

He groaned; she laughed.