A/N: We're back! You might find this story a WEE bit like the last one, but hopefully not too much. It's an entirely different premise. After losing an online friend this summer, it made me realize that life is short, and there's no promise that we'll be here tomorrow. Make the most of the time you have now. Live like today is your last day. Depressing? Maybe, but that's life. What can I tell you?

Disclaimer: Hughville and I don't own House, or its characters. We just like to make them do fun things :) So please don't sue us. We's poor.

Chapter One

When the seven a.m. alarm went off, Cuddy lay in bed with the sheet completely covering her from head to toe. The sun was very bright as it peeked through the curtains. As usual, House didn't bother to close them all the way. What was the point in room darkening curtains if he was going to leave them open all the time?

The real question was why did she have such a headache? Even the idea of poking her head out from under the covers seemed daunting. That must be why she slept through her alarm when it went off at five and then again at six. She never let the last two alarms ring unless it was her day off.

"I must be getting sick," she reasoned. It was the only explanation she could come up with for how crappy she felt.

Rachel came into the room and climbed into bed with her. It was part of their morning ritual. "I'm hungry. Can I have pancakes?" she asked.

Cuddy just groaned and nodded, steeling herself for the day ahead. The sooner she got it done and over with, the sooner she could go home and get right back into bed again. Luckily it was Friday so she would take it easy and sleep the weekend away. Her mother would be glad to have Rachel spend the weekend with her.

After getting Rachel's breakfast, Cuddy took a long hot shower, which helped a little bit. She took a couple of Advil to ease her headache, got dressed, dropped Rachel off at her preschool and went to work.

The first thing she noticed was that House wasn't in the clinic.

"Where's House?" she asked the nurse on duty. The lights seemed very bright and she squinted slightly.

"Don't know, don't care."

"Page him. Get him down here. He needs to do his clinic hours."

The nurse paged him and went back to what she was doing without another word. Satisfied for the moment, Cuddy went to her office and got to work. If she could tackle her messages and the two meetings early, she could leave early.

Ten minutes later, House came through the doors of her office while Cuddy rubbed the right side of her forehead. Her blinds were closed and it was dark.

"You rang, oh Countess of Cleavage?"

"Go to the clinic."

He instantly sulked. "Mommmmm…"

"Just do it. I'm not in the mood to argue with you about this," she said slurring her words.

He cocked his head to one side and studied her. Something wasn't right.

"You okay?"

"No, I'm not okay!" she snapped. "I just need you to do your job and do your clinic hours. Is that so much to ask?"

"But we play doctor all the time, so why do I have to do it here in the clinic?" he whined, ending it with one of his sexy grins that usually turned her to mush. However, it wasn't working this time, which concerned him even further. He took a few steps closer to her desk and reached into his pocket for his pen light.

"Just go, House," she murmured as she closed her eyes. He acted quickly, lifting her eyelid to check her pupils. The right one was so dilated only a silvery blue ring showed around it.

"Cuddy...Lisa...open your eyes."

She mumbled something unintelligible and slumped back in her chair.

"Need a crash cart in here!" he shouted. Every nurse and doctor in the clinic came running as House checked her pulse. Foreman rushed in and took over while House stood there in shock. He knew she was gone, but there was still a small glimmer of hope that it wasn't what he feared.

Foreman turned around and their eyes met, confirming his worst fear. With that, House turned around and went to his office without a word.


Cuddy's funeral was three days later. The autopsy confirmed a brain aneurysm burst, killing her. The headache was the only clue and because Cuddy ignored it, she died.

The Board met for weeks trying to find a suitable replacement for her but to no avail. Apparently nobody wanted to work with House and nobody was surprised by that.

"I might have an idea," Wilson said. "Dr. Cameron."

"Isn't she head of the ER somewhere in Chicago?" the head of the board asked.

"Yes, but a little bird told me she's been sending out resumes to other hospitals. I could call her."

Relief flooded over everyone in the room. "Do you really think she'd accept an offer?"

"Only one way to find out. Draw one up and I'll call her. We're still friends. And when she came to Cuddy's funeral, we talked. She's not happy in Chicago. I think the right nudge could lure her back here. If you need someone to manage House, she's the only one who can. You know it, House knows it, everyone knows it."

"We'll get back to you with an offer. We need an administrator with staying power. All the temps we've had since Dr. Cuddy's death have quit because they can't deal with House."

"I know. Let me see what I can do."

That night, Wilson called Cameron's office and was surprised when she answered. "You're still at work?" he asked.

"Oh, hey Wilson. I was just packing up my stuff to leave for the day. What's up?"

"I've got a proposition for you."


House lifted the bottle of whiskey and took a long drink. He skipped Cuddy's funeral, didn't bother to show up for work and ignored the daily phone calls. All he wanted to do was sit on his couch and drink as he contemplated life, or what was left of it. Bleak, that's what it was.

Belching loudly, House got up and wound his way to the bathroom where he made a half-assed attempt to hit the toilet and then staggered back out to the living room. He dry swallowed three Vicodin and sprawled on the couch. Just as he picked up the bottle for another drink, the front door banged open.

"Jesus, House!" Wilson said as he walked in. He yanked the curtains open, and House held up his hand to shield his eyes from the bright light that filled the room. "What is that smell?"

House tried to focus on his friend and gave up. Flinging his arm over his eyes, he took another long drink from the bottle. Whiskey splashed over him when Wilson yanked it from his hand. House rewarded him for that by sitting up and puking all over Wilson's jeans and shoes. Then he passed out.

XXX

He awoke abruptly and gagged on the tube down his throat. Monitors beeped and the antiseptic smell of the hospital made him gag again. A movement to his left caught his eye as Wilson came to stand next to his bed. His brows slanted downward and he wore his House is an ass look as he ripped the tape off the vent tube. House winced as the tape took half his beard off his face.

"Cough," Wilson commanded.

House did and continued to cough after Wilson jerked the tube up and out. After disposing of the tube, Wilson put an ice chip in House's mouth.

"Your blood alcohol level was point four, House," Wilson told him as he put another ice chip in his mouth. "You nearly died. Of course, that's probably what you wanted. It's just a good thing I showed up when I did. It's bad enough you missed Cuddy's funeral-"

"You already reprimanded me for that," House rasped as he snatched the cup of ice chips out of Wilson's hand and threw it on the floor. "That's why I've ignored your holier-than-thou phone calls." He clawed at the IV port in the back of his right hand.

Wilson pressed a button and then grabbed House's hands.

Two orderlies and a nurse entered the room with soft restraints.

As they secured House to the bed, he looked at Wilson with hate.

"Seriously?" he snapped.

"You're being an ass. Now shut up and get some rest, and maybe, just maybe, we'll let you out of the restraints."

House grumbled but figured it was best to keep quiet for the time being. As soon as they let him loose, he was going to check himself out and go home.