AN: So I'm having a little rewatch, and this happened after I finished "Need To Know". No regrets here. I missed writing for House.

All rights for House are Fox's and David Shore's. I own nothing.

The door to the roof creaked slightly as she opened it. Once Stacy handed her resignation over, she hurried to find Wilson. He'd just come off the roof, looking annoyed and frustrated, and so she stuck to the important questions. Did something further happen between House and Stacy? Was Stacy's decision to leave hers?

The most important question, though, she avoided. Was he okay?

House didn't turn around at the sound of the door opening. He doubted it was Stacy; after what he said to her, he doubted she'd ever want to see him again. He had no idea why Wilson would come back – his best friend seemed uncharacteristically furious with him – but it had to have been him. It couldn't have been anyone else.

"Any more crappy, useless insights you forgot?" He asked cynically, his voice louder than usual. "Or did you just come back to yell at me that I'm an idiot?"

"I'm assuming you think I'm Wilson." Cuddy's voice said softly behind him.

He whirled around, moving surprisingly quickly considering his injured leg. "What are you doing here?" He asked, his blue eyes quickly scanning the rest of the roof. It seemed she was alone, though he knew someone must have told her where he was. Probably Wilson. It wouldn't surprise him to find his best friend waiting in the shadows somewhere after bringing her to his hideout.

She walked towards him, stopping next to the brick wall that was the edge of the roof. She was still a couple of steps away from him, but it was almost close enough for him to touch her. Almost.

She folded her arms over her chest. "Stacy quit," She said quietly. He thought she'd be angry, but her voice was calm and quiet. Softer than he thought it would be. "She said she and Mark are heading back home."

"Right." He turned away, trying to hide the pain he was feeling. He sent her home. He did that. He has no right to feel so broken over it. "It was always supposed to be a temporary thing."

"It was. But it didn't seem it would be."

He frowned. Did she just say what he thought she did? "She said something."

"Are you saying or are you asking?"

He wasn't sure about it himself. "I don't know."

"Yes, she did." Cuddy's voice was softer. "She asked if I think you're capable of having a real relationship."

He let out a long breath. "It wouldn't have worked," He said quietly, staring ahead. "She'd be miserable. Not tomorrow, not this week, but at some point, she would be. She needs someone who can put her first. She deserves that."

"You broke it off for her. That's a very selfless thing to do."

He snorted. "Wilson thinks I'm an idiot."

"The two aren't mutually exclusive." There was a smile in Cuddy's voice. He smiled briefly despite himself. "Something happened, didn't it?"

He hesitated. Should he tell her about Mark coming to see him? He didn't tell Stacy, and Wilson made it clear that he didn't want to hear anything about it, although he had no doubt the oncologist only needed some time. But Cuddy was there, and it seemed she genuinely wanted to help. It felt like all of a sudden everyone in his life traded places with one another.

"He came to see me," He said eventually. Looking down at the floor, he added, "Screwed his own recovery. He's going to need months of physiotherapy to undo that."

"Screwed his recovery how?" He could tell she was frowning, even without looking at her. There was an almost confused note to her voice.

"He chased me, tried to make me talk to him," He replied, annoyed. "I took the stairs, and the moron pulled himself out of the wheelchair to follow me."

"You took the stairs?"

He turned his head to look at her. "Sure, mock the cripple," He growled.

Cuddy's expression turned softer. "I'm sorry," She said, her voice calming. He nodded briefly in acceptance, even though he was still annoyed by her response. "So you decided he's better for her because he's willing to screw his recovery?"

His eyes found hers, but to his surprise, all he saw in them was softness. She wasn't mocking him or giving him a sarcastic response. She was really asking.

He sighed and looked away. "He wanted to know how to get her back," He replied quietly. "He sensed she's pulling away. He wanted to know how to undo it." Looking down at his cane, he added, "He doesn't resent her. He's just frustrated. If they work this out… he can make her happy. I can't."

Gently, she placed her hand on his arm. He was shocked at first, thinking it must've been a mistake, but when she didn't pull away, he relaxed. Turning his head slightly, he could see his forearm resting against the bricks, and her palm resting against his sleeve, looking somewhat pale against his dark jacket. Slowly, he looked up to find her looking at him, softness and compassion in her eyes.

"House…" She said softly, and he blinked, realising he'd gotten lost in his thoughts. "Are you okay?"

He hesitated before shaking his head. "No," He admitted, his blue eyes still looking into her green ones. Stacy broke his heart once already. He pushed her away to protect himself from getting his heart broken again, but the short time they had was enough to remind him just how fragile it still was. "No, I'm not okay."

She nodded slightly and gently squeezed his arm. "You did the right thing."

"For whom?" He asked bitterly. "For her, or for the hospital?"

Her response threw him off. "For you," She said simply. Seeing him staring at her in surprise, she smiled. "And for her."

He searched her eyes, her face, looking for anything that might prove she wasn't serious. She must have talked to Wilson before coming to talk to him; there was no way Wilson didn't tell her what he thought. He knew they were good friends. Wilson would've told her how he felt. She would've agreed with him. Wouldn't she?

But there was nothing in her behaviour to show she didn't mean it. Her eyes and voice were sincere. She seemed genuinely worried about him.

Slowly, he nodded. "Yeah," He said quietly. He hoped she was right.

She squeezed his arm again. "Go home, get some sleep," She said softly before letting go and turning to leave. He watched her silently as she did, thoughts and feelings battling in his mind.

"Cuddy."

His voice stopped her as she reached the door. She stopped and turned around to look at him. He was looking at her, the shadows making it hard for her to see his expression. She didn't need to see it, though; his entire posture was more relaxed, telling her she managed to help him, at least a little bit.

"Thank you," He said quietly, his voice softer than she'd ever heard it.

She gave him a small smile. "I'm expecting you to be on time tomorrow," She warned, but she knew the smile was clear in her voice.

He smiled. "I wouldn't count on it."

She chuckled and then left, heading back to her car. Somehow, she had a feeling House would be alright.

He kept standing there for a few more minutes before following her. There was something about Cuddy that he couldn't figure out. He wasn't sure why she was there or why she agreed with him, but somehow, it didn't seem to matter as much as it usually would have.

It was only when he walked into his house that he realised that while he was still hurting, it wasn't as bad as it was when Wilson left him on the roof.