Hi and thanks for clicking on this. Um, I wrote this for my own amusement... And, actually, this was going to be like, a dream House has while he's in Mayfield, but this seemed more..fun. Please try to enjoy. xD

"You can't be serious."

"Oh, I think I can." They stood, as they usually did when engaged in a vicious battle of wits and will, Cuddy behind her desk, House leaning on his cane in the middle of her floor. In her hands was a colorful brochure. On it was a picture of a large swimming pool with glistening water, and fat white words saying "New Jersey Physical Rehab and Fitness Program: Therapeutic Swimming!" After two seconds of being in her office, he spotted the pamphlet and reacted just as she knew he would.

"House, this could be great for your leg! Swimming exercises the muscles in ways that walking can't. It will help you!"

"Here and I thought I thought I was the crazy one, but apparently it must be you that needed to go to Mayfield. How could you think for even a minute I would ever throw on a pair of elastic shorts and flap around like a drowning animal in a pool full of people who either can't count to ten or want everyone to pity them because of their cancer or other disease they might have?"

Cuddy's mouth twitched. Her eyes narrowed. "Look, House. You're deflecting because you don't think you can do this. You think you can't swim, or that you'll make a fool of yourself. You just don't want to do this because it would be embarrassing."

"Of course that's why I don't want to do it!" His voice was loud, angry. House's eyes focused on hers, boring into her soul like some sort of drill. "You don't have any idea what it felt like to be there, Cuddy. That-" He threw his hand out, motioning to the idea of Mayfield, "That hell-hole was the lowest I've ever been. Not even when I realized that our sex was a trick of my mind was as bad as being there for three months." As soon as the words flew out of his mouth, he knew he had said too much. She flushed deeply, but still stared at him with the same amount determination.

"The last thing I want to do is make a fool of myself again. Besides, we both know no amount of therapy is going to get-" he motioned towards his right leg spitefully, "this damn limb to start working again."

Cuddy walked to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. She looked at him with wide, earnest eyes. "You did it, House. You went to Mayfield and you got better, and you detoxed from Vicodin, and.." House looked down at her, amused.

"And what? That's living proof anything is possible?" She tilted her head away from his, her bangs falling over her eyes, and faced him again. She brushed her hair back into place and heaved a sigh. He could tell she was pulling out the big guns of her persuasive argument. Her secret weapon. House waited.

"I… I'll attend them with you. I'll do everything you do, every stupid lap around the pool and every embarrassing stretch. Maybe then you could focus on making a fool of me instead of wallowing in self pity."

He was visibly taken aback, his eyebrows hitched high on his forehead and leaning away from her. She knew he was suppressing an immature grin. "Seriously?"

Cuddy dipped her head low, cursing her life with every ounce of hate she could muster, and nodded. "Seriously."

His laughter bounced against the walls of her office, the unfamiliar sound seeping through into her assistant's workspace, causing the young blonde to look up, surprised at hearing such a sound.

Thanks for reading! And, so.. yeah. Do me (and the world) a big favor and review to tell me how I should be beaten senceless for writing this.