Gregory House understood that the moment he had been dreading, the moment he wished would never come, the moment he had feared for the better part of the past three years at least, was finally upon him. He would need to decide, and decide quickly, just how vulnerable he was willing to make himself for Lisa Cuddy.
They had played this game for as long as he could remember, more than twenty years they would both admit if they were in the mood to be honest. Twenty three years of longing, frustration, desire, affection, dejection, rejection and, well, friendship - that was their story. But things had begun to change about three years ago.
If House had to point to the day where he started to think of Cuddy as attainable and not as a fantasy, not as a memory but as a possibility, he would pick the moment that he had finally gotten over Stacy, after he had sent her back to Mark after their brief affair.
Sure, Wilson had helped put him back together after Stacy left the first time, and Cuddy had saved his life by giving him this job - by giving him the puzzles to solve. But it wasn't until Stacy came back and left again that House knew he was finally ready to open his eyes again. Once he did that he was able to see more clearly, and he liked what he saw: Lisa Cuddy.
But the realization that he was in love with her, that perhaps he had never stopped loving her, did not smack him over the head. No, that would be too easy, and easy wasn't the way things happened for Gregory House.
Instead, Lisa Cuddy slowly worked her way under his gruff exterior. She confided in him about IVF and asked him to inject her, she was there with him when his team quit, helping him save his next patient and convincing him he needed to hire new fellows, she held his hand after Wilson left him after Amber's death, and when he came close to losing his mind, she physically held him together long enough for Wilson to get him to Mayfield. Her touch had done that. Her concern had done that. Her love had done that.
If he had noticed it was happening, he could have helped the process or stopped it altogether. But he didn't notice, not until later, not until the miserable, lonely months he spent at Mayfield, did he realize what had happened. Against his will, he had opened up his heart again. His delusion, delicious and painful as it was, had proved it. Lisa Cuddy, with all of her teasing and games, had made her way inside his fortress. And she knew it.
At least, that is what House thought. She had to know. He had gone to comfort her when she lost Joy and it had ended in a passionate and tender kiss. He had her followed by his private investigator, wanting her to believe that he could be different, that he could be romantic. He had tried to get himself off Vicodin and he even saw a shrink in New York. He had her college desk refurbished and delivered to her office to make up for his ghoulish behavior, to tell her he had started to think that things were indeed changing between them. But she had made no mention of the gesture. Finally, in perhaps that grandest gesture of all, he committed himself to Mayfield Psychiatric Facility to ensure his detox and to give himself the best chance to get better and be worthy of her. He did all of these things for her. He hadn't known it at the time. He didn't write a list of events to check off in order to deserve her - but later, at Mayfield, as he evaluated his behavior towards her, he saw it. He understood it. It was easy to diagnose, really, his love, his fear and his deflections. It was obvious. No wonder Wilson had seen it. It wasn't a stretch for him to believe Cuddy had also seen it.
Which brings us to today. They are in her office. He is seated in the chair in front of her desk, twirling his cane in the air. She is seated behind her desk, the desk he had delivered to her, using this symbol of their past together as a barrier in their present. He had been back from Mayfield for nearly a year. His relationship with her was back to the playful banter they had always shared.
He thought, when he first got back from Mayfield, that he would wait until things normalized between them to confront her about his feelings. Once things did normalize, and they went back to the talk about fun bags and idiocy, he had a difficult time picking the right moment. He didn't want to mess things up. He tried to convince himself that if they kissed each other the night she lost Joy without discussion and without hesitation, they would find another similar moment to move their relationship forward. He had been back from Mayfield for nearly a year and still, no such moment had come to pass between them.
Now, he sat there, twirling his cane, watching it spin in front of him. Another moment had come, not one where they fall into an impulsive embrace, but one where the words he utters next will determine the possibility of a future for them.
It had started easily enough.
"What were you thinking? How could you possibly think that it would be okay to trick the patient's mother into consent for the procedure?" she asked, pointedly, her forehead wrinkling the way it always did when she was mad at him.
"I was thinking that I wanted to be able to diagnose the patient and you know, save his life," she responded, sarcastically. "You might remember, Cuddy, from your days as a doctor, that is what we do. We save lives."
"Damnit House, this isn't about that. You can't make up the rules as you go. You have to get informed consent. You have to-"
"Your precious hospital won't get sued, Cuddy. I saved his-"
"House, you are acting like a 12-year-old again. You saved his life this time, but what about the next patient? This is what Wilson meant when he said you fly too close to the sun."
"Wilson's not here, whining about how I saved this kid's life. So what do you think, Cuddy? Don't hide behind Wilson, tell me, do you think I fly too close to the sun?"
"What I think is that I am tired of protecting you. You are an ever present item on the Board's agenda, and frankly, it just isn't fun anymore House." She sounded tired. This wasn't her typical daily tirade. She wasn't looking to upset him, or to get his behavior to change. She just looked frustrated.
"This isn't about the kid. What's really the matter?" he asked, realizing there was much more to this fight than their usual battle. It wasn't a fair match if he didn't have the context for it.
"House, Jim Greer, the new thoracic surgeon I hired last month, he asked me out to dinner tonight."
"Oh, it all makes sense now. You have a date, an actual warm body to go out with, one you didn't meet on line, so you call me in here to yell at me because I saved the life of my last patient. Of course - thanks for clarifying Cuddy." House was more than a little frustrated.
"I called you in because I wanted you to know, I-"
"You wanted to see if I'd be jealous," he said sarcastically, betraying no sentimentality. "You wanted to see if I would show up at your house and interrupt you tonight. It's your first date, after all, and you do like sex, we know, so we know how this night will end."
"You moron, I called you in to tell you about the date because I wanted to know if I should go out with him, if- if I should move on."
"You're asking me? Jesus Cuddy, don't you have girlfriends you can ask? Oh that's right, you don't. Maybe Cameron can tell you what she thinks. My guess is she would tell you to go out with the dude. She might be married but she still has the hots for me . I'd say ask 13 but she might only encourage the date if Jim Greer wasn't a dude." The words came tumbling, one after the other, skewered in vinegar.
"Thank you, House," she said quietly, controlling her voice, stopping herself from revealing just how much he had hurt her. "Thanks for the answer."
He was twirling his cane in the air and watching it closely as he caught it again and again.
"That's all then. Please go," she said coldly, without looking up.
He got up slowly and limped towards the door. He thought about Mayfield, and all he had tried to accomplish for the chance to have her again. He thought about the night they spent together in college, the memory made her scent wash over him again. He thought of her lying on the stand during the Tritter trial. He thought about their fights over clinic hours, and their ongoing pranks on each other. He thought about all of these things, and how he was about to walk out of her office, leaving their relationship entirely in the past. At least she might be happy with Greer, he thought. She deserved that. Rachel deserved a stable father figure. This would be better for all of them, he rationalized.
His hand was on the door knob when he turned and looked back at her. She was looking down at the file that lay open on her desk. Her eyes were glistening but she was not crying. The moment was here, the moment he dreaded, the moment he had been waiting for since Michigan.
"Cuddy," he said softly, locking eyes with her, his gaze intense. "Don't go."
She stood up and walked around the desk and leaned on it, facing him directly. He limped back towards her slowly.
"I mean it. Don't go." He sounded desperate.
"Why shouldn't I?" This question wasn't intended as a challenge or as a part of one of their games. The question was a serious one and he sensed this. She was confused - and why wouldn't she be - he was the clearinghouse for mixed signals.
"Because I want you to give me another chance," he closed the space between them and looked down at her glassy, blue grey eyes. "Because I- because I want you. Because I need you-" he whispered, coming even closer, looking for some sign that she felt the same way.
He wondered if he had said enough, or if Cuddy would require some ridiculous declaration of love to forgo the date with Dr. Thoracic Surgeon. He wasn't sure if he was ready to do that, to declare his love for her, to promise to cherish her and all that crp. Heck, he had to go to an insane asylum to figure out he even had real feelings for her. He wasn't ready for more, not yet.
Lucky for him, the next words out of Cuddy's mouth were, "You idiot."
She pushed him gently on his chest as she said it, then grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled herself up to him, softly brushing her lips against his. He returned the kiss, parting her lips with his tongue, and tasting every corner of her mouth. He pulled back from the kiss gently and held her, forehead to forehead, searching her eyes in wonder.
Of course she was right, he thought, only an idiot would spend 23 years on his journey back to that one special woman, that woman who challenged him and drove him insane, the woman he lusted after and wanted so badly, the woman whom he had shared a bond of respect and loyalty with that rivaled his friendship with Wilson. Only an idiot would have almost let her get away. He was an idiot, but somehow, he still had a chance.
They kissed again, more passionately, and this time she pulled away and released him from their embrace. She wiped her mouth and said, "Well, I have to go, he's going to pick me up at 8."
House dove into her a third time, turned on further by her snide remark. He pushed her backwards towards her desk and ravished her neck with kisses as he held her waist firmly and let her feel his growing excitement. He licked his way down to the swell of her breasts. "That was a good one, Cuddy. Very good."
He continued to kiss her, lifting her up onto her desk. They stopped for a moment, looked at the desk and looked at each other again. She nervously looked away from House, towards the door.
"Don't worry, I'm not that big an idiot, I locked it."