Author's Note: Here's a short little doo-dad ficlet type thing.

So, I'm not really sure what to classify this as. So I'll be safe and call it House/Cuddy. It's odd, I am a not a House/Cuddy fan, but for some reason this plot-a-majig popped into my head. Warning: It's not happy.

R&R, Let me know what you think. Please and thank you!

Disclaimer: I do not own House M.D.

A Little While

You gave in.

When his hand lost hold on his cane, you'd dive down and clutch it. Hand and heart clinging on to its hook. You just wanted him to walk towards you. So he could walk with you.

When his pain worsened and his eyes rolled back into his head in agony, you'd fling open the drawer and prepare a syringe full of morphine. Fingers and heart pushing the needle of sanctity into him. You just wanted him to be neutral. So he could hold a growing Rachel in his arms and sigh at the beauty you found in her.

When his brain was stuck at a wall, and a patient neared death, you'd sit with him and let him think on you. Head and heart spewing out every ounce of knowledge. You just wanted him to be right. So he could be content with the incredible work you knew he accomplished. So he could give you a half smile that was equivalent to a normal person's puffed out chest and glowing teeth.

And it worked for a little while.

It was everything for a little while.

And you loved it-loved him-for a little while.

You feel a heavier sinking feeling each time his tell-tale thump-da-dump would near you. The fingers that thrust the morphine into his skin shake when he touches your pride and joy. Your Rachel.

Because she makes you feel.

She makes you feel good.

Oh, and so did he. He made you feel wild and free and inexplicable emotions and highs you've never experienced.

But only for a little while.

Now his cane is a hassle, the morphine left a stain on your conscious, and having him minimize your ideas to better his eats at your confidence.

Eats at your sanity.

Gregory House never changes, and you fooled yourself into believing that one day he would.

You pump sympathy out of your heart to rationalize.

You know he is who he is. He is abrasive, rude, and impossible.

This you know.

You know that he can't help when his eyes travel to a blonde ingenue with eyes that glow even when surrounded by the darkest of circles.

At least you know that your breasts could take her breasts in a cage-match of breasts.

He can't help but to elicit some emotion when an auburn train wreck challenges him to see who lives with more pain day to day.

At least you know that you can make him happy.

Though, lately, you don't want his eyes to travel back to yours or challenge your pain.

You don't want him.

There are at least a dozen times a you want to go on pointe and just barely make it to the lobe of his ear. The words would flow out of your mouth melodically, enticing him-making his eyes close in ecstasy. You'd whisper, "It was everything....for a little while."

He'd grunt in pain

You'd cock your head to the side.

He'd understand.

And you'd leave.

You would be the one to leave this web of hell.

In his crooked, off-beat way, you know that he loves you. He loves you because of your gusto, your determination, your strong-willed power.

Your everything.

You're everything.

It kills your insides to be even a fraction of "everything".

The last "everything" killed everything.

Wilson would slaughter you if he knew the thoughts that ran through your head.

House.....Well, House would return to his masochistic life-style, develop trust issues, and hate everything that reminded him of you for a little while.

So all you can do is wait.

Wait for the mutated roses to wilt.

Some day he won't love you.

Some day he would want the professional relationship you once had.

Some day he will end it.

All you have to do is wait.

Just for a little while.