Without him, everything seemed a little greyer. The walls of the hospital felt more constricted than ever, trapping Cuddy inside a tiny, airless box. She could no longer tell which day was which; they slid by in a meaningless blur. The hospital was quieter than usual, relieving her crowded workload, but Cuddy found she missed clearing up House's mess. Everything was so mundane, so normal. Wilson was more subdued than ever, but they took reassurance in each other's smiles, the odd glance across the reception table. Cuddy knew he was struggling, she knew his guilt was just as crippling as hers. But they carried on, readying themselves for his eventual return.
She spoke to Chase and Cameron often. She could see her own concern mirrored in Cameron's soft green eyes. Chase was quiet, but Cuddy knew he was just as shocked as Cameron. Seeing them together, so in love, so rightfor one another reminded Cuddy, with a pang, of House; of the relationship they had never had, the security and love that Cuddy constantly craved. A fumbled, intense night in college twenty years ago led to months of avoidance, followed by years of sniping, arguing, petty name calling. Cuddy knew their feelings ran deeper than either of them were prepared to admit. She constantly protected him; hell, she lied in court for him.
Things seemed to change after that. She re-found her confidence around him; she held his gaze for a little while longer, pushed her 'assets' that bit further forward, returned the flirtatious banter they engaged in over an ethical debate. It escalated and escalated, ending finally in a kiss, when she was at her lowest moment and he... was there. For one moment, the facade slipped, and she saw him for who he really was. He was human, tender, her emotional pain mirroring the physical pain he experienced every day. The loss was unbearable, and she'd looked up, and there he was. The House she had known all those years ago, before Stacy, before the leg, before everything life had thrown at him. She'd just had an overwhelming urge to be held, to feel his lips against hers, and he saw it. He saw the pain etched over her face, the flicker of desire, of neediness behind her eyes, and he'd kissed her. He'd kissed her to take away her hurt, her anger, everything that they'd put each other through over the past five years. The following few days had been awkward, but now, Cuddy found she would move heaven and earth to get that awkwardness back.
She missed him. The corridors were quieter without the dull thud of his cane on the hospital floor. At night, when she was alone, she went and sat in his office, just to remind herself that he was alive, that he was a real person. His smell still lingered in the office, his battered leather jacket thrown carelessly over the chair. Cuddy was sat dully in his chair, when she spied a piece of paper sticking out from the piles of folders on his desk. Carefully pulling it out, she smiled, before she felt the bittersweet tears falling down her cheek. In House's distinctive scrawl, the note simply read;
you can't always get what you want. but if you try sometimes, you get what you need.