Title: Ethereal Moments
Word Count: 1900 words
Rating: All ages, for now
Warnings: none
Summary: After their kiss, reality sets in.
Spoilers: through the end of season 6. This is what's after the fade to black at the end of "Help Me",
Author's Note: I try to remain spoiler free, so I have no idea what direction TPTB are going to take the show.
Author's Note 2: This is a WIP, I think. I'll update as the mood and time allows.

End scene from "Help Me"

Kissing Lisa Cuddy was…. exquisite, wonderful, breathtaking, and the most natural thing in the world. He never wanted to stop. He wanted to touch her skin, feel her naked body pressed next to him, and taste every inch of her from head to toe and back again. And then do it again. And again.

Breathless, he pulled back from her, studying her. He took a few steps back, letting his fingers barely touch her face.

"I want you" he said.

"I know" she said, taking a step closer to him.

"I don't know how to do 'relationships,'" he said quietly, looking away, but not stepping further away.

"I know," she said, gently turning his face back to hers.

"You just left Lucas…I don't want to just be some consolation prize," he said, pulling her back to him.

"You're not," she said, tucking her head under his chin.

"I don't want to screw this up again," he said so quietly she almost missed it.

"You won't," she whispered back.

"What if I do?"

"I won't let you."

They stood, lost in their own thoughts, leaning on each other for a while until House had to move or he'd fall down. A slight shake of his head brought a flurry of dust and dirt down on them.

"I need a shower."

"Not here. There's too much glass in the bathtub…Do you want to stay at my house tonight?"

He contemplated. "I'm not sure if that's a good idea…I'm not saying I don't WANT to, but…I don't want to rush anything. I need to know that this …us…isn't a hallucination. That it isn't all in my mind…I need to know."

"Wilson's?"

He shook his head. "I guess a hotel. But I'm not sure if being alone right now is a good idea. Mayfield if I have to."

"I'll call Wilson. You know he'll want you to stay there."

"Let's just go. I still have a key."

Wilson opened the door and had a terrible moment of déjà vu. Cuddy was standing there with a beleaguered looking House. It was barely a year ago that this same scene had played out in his office and ended with him taking his best friend to check himself into a psychiatric facility. It had nearly broken them both.

Cuddy broke the silence. "Wilson, I'm sorry to interrupt your evening, but House, Greg, needs a place to shower and stay for a few days while we get a few things sorted out."

"House? Is everything okay? What happened? What's wrong? Sit down; I'll get coffee. Have you eaten today at all?" Wilson, ever the proper host, headed for the kitchen and rummaged in the fridge for a moment.

"No. It's, I," he hung his head and mumbled, "I broke into my stash of Vicodin –"

"HOUSE! You didn't –" Wilson interrupted, putting down the plate he was fixing for him.

"No, he didn't," interjected Cuddy.

Looking too much like a lost little boy, House didn't speak. He didn't know what to say, what to do, where to look. He didn't like being dependant on anyone else, even Wilson.

Putting the plate, a napkin and a fork down on the table, Wilson walked back to the kitchen to get his friends a drink, saying, "House – SIT – before you fall over."

He just stood there. Never had he felt so lost and hopeless. Nothing was right. He had done everything he was supposed to and still, Hannah had died. He had done everything Nolan had told him to do and still, he didn't know how to be happy.

Cuddy led him over to the table, helped him sit and handed him the fork. He ate without any thought, not even tasting the meatloaf, peas, and potatoes Wilson had warmed up for him. Cuddy sat next to him, keeping a watchful eye on him while he gulped down the glass of grape soda Wilson handed him.

"Wilson," she started.

"Of course he stays here. He's always welcome here. Sit with him a moment and I'll get some towels so he can get a shower and cleaned up. Some of his clothes are still here and the second bedroom is still made up. He'll be fine."

Both glanced at House, waiting for the snarky comments about their talking as though he wasn't there. Instead, he sat, quietly tucking into his meal, not saying a word. Wilson got some towels out of the hall closet and put them in the bathroom and came back into the dining area.

"Cuddy, what happened? Foreman left a message on my cell asking if I had seen House but I only got it a few minutes ago. The battery had died while I was working in the triage area."

"Let's talk about that later, okay? Right now, I think Greg just needs to get cleaned up and into bed so he can sleep. He's been up for two days at least, and his leg has got to be –" she didn't get any further before House interrupted her.

"Nolan. I need to talk to Nolan. I need a shower, sleep and to talk with Nolan. Can one of you arrange that?" House was groping for his cane. Once he found it, he slowly eased himself out of the chair and dragged himself down the hall towards the bathroom.

"Is Sam here? Warn her, I'm about to be naked and I'm not closing the bathroom door. Lisa, can you control yourself long enough to help me in the shower?"

Cuddy smiled softly and followed him down the hall.

Wilson stared – Lisa? And she called him Greg, not once, but twice. He heard Cuddy turn on the shower, asking if he'd rather a bath, and House's brusque grumble about not having enough energy to get out of a tub once he got in. He was beginning to sound like a petulant overtired child, never a good sign.

Belatedly, Wilson called out, "Sam is still at the hospital, she's checking on a few things. I don't think she'll be back for a while. You're safe. I'll leave the heating pad on your bed, and I found a pair of your pajama pants and a sleep t-shirt in the hamper the other night; I'll put those out for you."

His listened for a reply, surprised when Cuddy replied "Thanks Wilson. Can you give me a hand? I need some help in here."

Wilson was surprised to see that Cuddy had already stripped House down and gotten him into the shower, only to realize that she wasn't strong enough to hold him steady upright, wash his hair, and maneuver him around without actually climbing into the stall with him. The clinical side of both doctors had automatically kicked in and they quickly and efficiently got the tall man cleaned up, dried off, into pajamas and stretched out on the bed with the heating pad on his thigh. House was already half asleep.

As they moved to get off the bed and leave him to rest, his hand shot out and grabbed Cuddy's wrist.

"Don't leave me. You can't leave me. Please."

Soothingly she said, "It's okay, Greg. I'm not going anywhere. I'll be in the living room with Wilson. It's okay."

"Stay."

Wilson looked from one friend to another, confused as to what was going on, but realized he was in the way and moved back into the kitchen to clear up and wait.

"Shhhh. Go to sleep, Greg. I'll be here when you wake up. I'm no losing you again."

His grip eased up, softly saying "Leeesssss…." He was asleep before he could finish.

Cuddy sat with him for a few more minutes, caressing his head and cheek, giving him a feather light kiss on the lips before going out to explain.

"What the hell is going on, Cuddy?"

"It's…it's complicated. Hannah, the woman he found trapped under the parking lot, didn't make it. He tried so hard, he didn't want to have to cut off her leg, but eventually had to persuade her it was time. He did the amputation himself and got her out from there. She had a fatty embolism in the rig. There was nothing he could do." Gratefully, she accepted the cup of tea Wilson handed her and took a swallow as she reflected.

Wilson waited quietly as she gathered her thoughts.

"House just imploded; just completely shut down. He couldn't understand how he could have done everything right, done everything he should have, and still, she died. Foreman was worried about him and when he couldn't reach you, he called me. I went to his apartment and found him sitting on the bathroom floor, surrounded by shards of his shattered mirror. He had stashed two full bottles of Vicodin in the wall behind the mirror, I guess for a "rainy day." He was sitting there, two pills in his hand, when I got there."

She paused, not sure how much more she wanted to tell him. The kiss, her admission of love, House's hesitation. She wasn't ready to share that yet and felt she owed House his privacy.

"He didn't take them. He made a conscious choice to not take them."

Wilson waited. He knew there was more. There had to be. What happened to make House not take his beloved Vicodin?

The two sat for a few minutes. Cuddy wasn't going to tell him anything more about what happened in House's apartment.

"I broke up with Lucas. It wasn't right. I should have never accepted his engagement ring. How has everything gotten so screwed up?"

"I don't know Lisa. I'm not sure what to tell you." He rose, taking the now cold cup of tea back to the kitchen. "Do you want to stay tonight? You can take my bed, or, if you prefer, you can stay with House," he asked tentatively.

"I don't want to kick you out of your bed Wilson. The couch will be fine," she said, glancing down the hallway towards the room House was asleep in. "Do you think Sam would mind if I borrowed a nightgown?"

"I'll get you one."

"Thank you. I'll sleep," she paused, looking down the hallway again. "I'll check on Greg, and stay in there with him. I want to make sure he's okay throughout the night. I don't want him to wake up and be disoriented."

Wilson found a new nightgown that Sam had recently purchased and some towels for her and returned to the hallway. "Good night, Lisa. Let me know if you need anything else. I'll let Sam know you guys are here."

"Good night, Wilson, and thanks."