I have no idea how to write one of these, and I forgot to put a disclaimer in, so I suppose this is it. I don't own House or any of its affiliates, its characters, its actors, the writers, equipment, stationary, clothes, shoes, or organs that make up the programme. All I can say to that is…Alas!

I've got a few short notes to put in as well, mostly apologies for the content you're about to read

I'm British so any unusual turns of phrase or words, spellings that look out of place are either culturally misquoted or I'm suffering from brain malfunction. Either way, I've tried to keep them to a minimum.

I've rated the story an M because its got swearing in it and eventually down the line its most likely going to descend into smut so don't be disappointed (or too pleased) that you haven't been assaulted with filth yet. It's on its way!

The first two chapters are basically essay-like histories of our two main characters and their relationship thus far. It will change focus at around chapter three. Why they turned out like essays I'll never know seeing as I'm knee deep in assignments right now.

I've tried to keep the characterisation as close as possible up to series four, of course I haven't seen any of that series yet being across the pond, the rest is all my interpretation

It's going to be a long one, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I am writing it. Reviews more than welcome. I'm a masochist so criticise or compliment to your hearts content.

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Paradox

He had been telling the truth when she had asked him if he liked her. He didn't. What he didn't tell her was the other half of his response. He did like her, which was the main reason why he didn't like her. It had been an idiotic circle he'd told himself, but he'd also reasoned that in telling her a half truth, or a half lie he had been protecting both of them, she was too young and naïve to cope with his bitterness and coldness and he had been too old and set in his ways of self deprecating misery to cope with her optimism and generosity. "There's no point even going there" this statement had been lodged in his brain after continual repetition and late nights festering on his couch.

But the truth was he couldn't deny the attraction. He tried to shake it off, shake her off by bringing cruel and brusque with her on one day, and then completely ignoring her the next, but it was still there. For four years he'd been in complete avoidance of the issue, yet she didn't give up on him and despite his "no going there" mantra he couldn't help but give her some form of hope every once in a while, and occasionally she'd asserted herself in that she was still there, and made him question himself and his reasoning. He on some level must have hoped that one day everything would click into place, the timing would be right and he could let her in, slowly at first, test the waters and eventually completely cement her in his life. Perhaps she might even take the place of Stacey, he knew he could trust her, she wouldn't go against his wishes, she'd proven herself countless times before and since he was shot. She would teach him that giving a little every once in a while wasn't a bad thing, hell it could even be gratifying to please someone. Yet he wasn't sure if he still had it in him to forgive and move on, that last place in his heart that still kept him human.

He knew he had gone over the line with her occasionally, he'd hurt her. There was no excusing it or denying it. Wilson had warned him about pushing people away so often that he thought his ears would start to bleed every time his friend would enter the room, but his stubbornness won out, he had justified his behaviour and character to himself, he didn't like people, hated people interfering with his things and his decisions and most of all he hated feeling like he wasn't in control. Cameron though had the skill to completely throw him off and there were only a few people he knew that could do that, Stacy could do it whenever she felt like it, but that also meant at his expense. Wilson could occasionally but that was only on certain days when he'd grow a spine or had had a fight with one of his wives. The fact that she could do it despite her inherent saintliness worried him and thrilled him at the same time.

When he had realised that Cameron was avoiding taking her HIV test after the 3 month period had expired he kept his concern to himself. Instead, still coming off the high of kissing Stacy he had used Cameron's crush on him to his advantage in getting the cheek swab. Telling her he loved her at that point wasn't particularly true, the attraction was still bubbling below the surface so that when he had said "I love you" he could say it with some force of emotion. It wasn't until later that he realised how his subconscious had worked in that scenario. His mind knew the potential, was probably already screaming at him "Open your eyes Gregory House! You're a complete 'tard!!" (It seems even House's conscious wasn't particularly politically correct.) Yet he ignored. And to be honest, who could blame him, the woman who broken him had come back into his life and was beginning to promise to fix him.

The kiss was the beginning of the end for House, he made light of it when she pulled that damn needle out of her pocket but inside he felt like a small boat thrown out into a greying and stormy sea. The truthful side of his brain told him that this was ridiculous, the other side, the one that craved interaction threw him in head first, and afterwards he felt the whole of his body sink out through his legs, both the good one and the busted one. Plenty of moments, hundreds of glances, dozens of touches which were worth more to him than forty years of repression, abuse (by others and himself) and distrust. Interaction was fundamentally his ultimate drug it could restore him from pain and bring him more than the little happiness that he deserved.