Hi guys. I started writing this before it was confirmed that Lisa wouldn't be returning for the series finale, and there was still some shred of hope left. Anyway, you might need some tissues. Enjoy, and please leave a review on your way out.

She wasn't expecting to be so upset. She wasn't expecting to care as much as she did. How could she still care after what he had done to her? He had run his car through her dining room, endangering her life as well as the lives of three others. He had handed her the hairbrush and simply limped away, as if what he had done was just something minor. What he had done had been the final straw.

She hadn't even bothered to press charges. When she had been filing the police report she had been insistent on it, but the next day as she had resigned from her position at the hospital, it had hit her that she didn't want to press charges. She had just wanted to be done with it all, done with him. All she wanted was to get the hell out of Princeton and as far away as possible from him.

So why was she so upset?

It was a question that had been eating at her since she had received the phone call from Wilson just a few days earlier.

She had known something was wrong when it was eleven pm on a Monday and Wilson was calling her. He always called her on Tuesdays and during a more decent time of the day. She had answered the phone and listened as he explained to her the situation.

"He's going to be gone by the end of the week. This is it Cuddy. He's dying."

She had completely broken down before she could stop herself. He didn't deserve her tears. She didn't want to cry over his impending death. She hadn't seen him in over two years. She hadn't heard a single word from him since. He knew where she was, she was sure of it. Wilson would have told him by now that she had never left the state, that she had only moved two hours away to Lake Hopatcong. If he had ever wanted to apologize to her for what he did, he had had the chance, and he never took it. She hated him.

So why was she so upset?

Because she didn't hate him. She couldn't. She had spent the last two and a half years trying to forget him, forcing herself to hate the man that had loved her more than anything. She couldn't hate him.

Every time she had tried to forget him, something would always remind her of him. Whether it be an outfit she wore on one of their few but memorable dates, or the blue shirt of his that she had always loved.

That damn blue shirt.

She knew she shouldn't have kept it, but she could have never gotten rid of it. She was too attached to it, it was a memory of what could havebeen. It was what kept her clinging to what they had once had; a memento of when things between them were still going strong, when there was still hope for the hopeless.

"I should have burned it." She thought to herself as she stumbled upon it once more. She was packing her an overnight bag to go and see him. To say her goodbyes. She couldn't stop the tears from falling as she pulled the shirt from her drawer and held it between her hands. She held it up to her nose and sniffed it. It still faintly smelled of him. The tears fell faster as she realized that she was going to lose him for good. That even though he had passed the point of no return, he would be gone for good. She would finally be rid of him for good, and the thought of it hurt like hell.

She didn't want him to die. After everything, she still loved him, she would always love him. There was too much history between them for her to simply forget him, forget how strong her feelings were. She had spent two years trying to subdue them, and she had failed. A small part of her hated herself for being so weak, for caring so much about a man who didn't deserve it.

She took a shuddering breath as she held her face between her hands. She wiped her eyes before setting the shirt aside. She needed to pack. She needed to take the two hour drive down to Princeton and say her goodbye.

"Hi." Wilson greeted with a weak wave. He looked like he hasn't properly slept in weeks. She couldn't help but feel guilty for leaving him to deal with this on his own. She should have been there sooner but she knew she wouldn't have been able to cope with the situation had she arrived earlier. It was Tuesday when Wilson called, and it was now Friday morning.

"How much time does he have left?" She asked, her voice cracking on the final word. She still couldn't believe that House, the man who has escaped death several times had reached his end. The thought was too painful to bear.

"He probably won't make it until morning... He refuses to take any meds and he'd stopped the chemo less than a month after diagnosis. It's almost as if this is what he wants for himself… "

Her breath caught in her throat and she immediately regretted not coming sooner.

"What room is he in?"

"Six – eleven."

It took her several minutes to enter his room, and when she did, she stopped in her tracks at what she saw. She could barely recognize him. He had lost so much weight and his skin was almost translucent. She could almost feel her heart break as she looked at him.

"W-Why are you he-here?"

Hearing his voice for the first time in so long made the hairs on the back of her neck stand straight.

"I came to say goodbye." She replied, her voice wavering.

She watched as he tried to sit up, failing, erupting into a coughing fit instead.

"You hate me. Why would you come to say g-goodbye?"

She couldn't help herself when she broke down completely.

"I don't hate you… I should… I really should hate you for all the crap you put me through, but I don't. I can't hate you."

She took a step forward, sitting herself on the edge of his bed.

"You s-should hate me." He whispered almost inaudibly as he looked away.

"I know. But I can't. I tried to hate you. I tried to hate you for running your car through my house, for causing me to go through a year and half of therapy, for essentially ruining my life, but I couldn't."

Her voice cracked, and she couldn't help but let the tears fall.

"I love you… I wish I didn't, but I can't help it. After everything, the feelings never left."

There were tears streaming down his face, and that only made things worse for herself. She leaned a hand forward and placed it on his cheek.

"I'm so sorry House. If I had given you another chance maybe it wouldn't have to end this way. I'm so sorry."

Now more than ever she regretted that she didn't listen to Wilson when he had told her that House deserved a second chance. If she had given him his chance maybe none of this would have ever happened. Maybe they would still be happy together, maybe she would still be Dean at PPTH. Everything would have been so much different if she had given him another chance.

"D-don't. It's not your fault Cuddy. Don't blame yourself. It's mine. I n-never thought I could be happy with you so it was inevitable that things would have ended that w-way. I'm s-sorry. I-I was weak. I-I couldn't d-deal with l-losing y-ou and I was s-stupid and t-took the pill and l-lost you and it all went to hell."

House broke out into another coughing fit and there was nothing she could do but watch.

"Don't. Don't talk about that. Just focus on the here and now. I'm here with you now. That's all that matters. I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

She took his hand and gave it a squeeze. She had no intention of going anywhere, at least not while she still had time to spend with him.

It was a little after two am when it happened. She had been holding him, running her fingers through his hair, retelling the few short months they had spent as a couple when the beeping of the heart monitor had increased and his breathing became shallower.

"House. House. Please don't. Don't. I need you. I'm so sorry. Don't leave me please." She pleaded.

"Cuddy… I love you." He heaved before he began to cough blood.

She couldn't stop the tears as she held him in her arms as he took his final breaths.

"I love you. You are the most incredible man I have ever known. You will always be the most incredible man I have ever known." She murmured into his temple.

She felt him take one last breath before he was still.

She knew there was no point in shaking him or calling his name. He was gone. He was gone and she would never feel his eyes on her again, there would be no chance of reconciliation.

It took hours before Wilson could get her to let go of him. The second she stood from the hospital bed and saw him she had to resist the urge to climb back beside him. Instead she had turned to run out of the room and had bumped into Wilson instead. She sobbed into his chest as she felt her knees go weak. He held her as they slipped onto the floor. She could feel him shaking with sobs and knew that it was just as hard for him as it was for her. They had both just lost someone extremely important to them.

When they'd both composed and collected themselves, Wilson had wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they had gone up to his office.

"I had already made arrangements…" He said as she sat across from his desk. He handed her several tissues and she nodded her thanks.

"The funeral and burial are both on Monday… It's easier that way."

"He wouldn't have wanted it any different. He hates… hated being the center of attention…"

Her mind was a complete and utter blur. She couldn't help it as the years she had known him replayed in her mind's eye. She hated herself for not coming sooner. She should have come sooner so that she would have gotten more than a few meager hours with him.

"If you need any help with anything, just let me know." She said as she stood to leave. She needed to check into her hotel and spend a few hours alone before she would head back to the hospital later on in the day.

"I will."

The funeral had lasted two hours. She had been surprised at the amount of people who had attended. House may not have been the nicest of people, but he sure as he was a brilliant doctor, and the amount of former patients who had attended was proof of that.

When it came to the burial, it had gone by in a blur. Seeing as House had been an atheist there had been no priest to say anything so instead Wilson, House's mother, and his fellows had said a few words. She knew she should have said something, but she was too distraught to be able to speak. She hadn't moved from her chair the entire time. She knew that there were curious eyes on her, wondering what in the world she was doing at House's burial, but in all honesty, she couldn't care less. She would be there for him until the very end.

It was half past six when it ended. Everyone had cleared out except for herself, Wilson and Blythe. She had given her condolences to House's mother and how kind the older woman was to her only made her feel terrible. She didn't deserve her kindness.

She watched as Wilson spoke to Blythe, the older woman nodding before turning and heading towards his car. Wilson approached her. She was still sitting in the chair, not trusting knees to support her should she stand so he had squatted down until his eyes were level with hers.

"He wanted me to give you this…" He said as he handed her an envelope with her name scrawled in House's handwriting. She took it from him with shaking hands.

"Thanks…"

"I know this is hard for you… It's hard for me too, but please, go back to your hotel, get a good night's rest and then go home, alright?"

"When are you cleaning out his apartment?"

She didn't plan on going home until he had cleared it out in case there was anything he might have thought she wanted.

"Wednesday."

"I'll go home Thursday… I want to be there when you go through his things…"

"Lisa…"

"Don't. This is something I need to do."

"Alright. But promise me you'll get a good night's sleep alright?" Wilson said as he stood.

She nodded up at him and he gave her a weak smile before kissing the top of her head in a comforting manner.

"I'll call you tomorrow around noon." He said before walking away.

She waited until he drove away to get up and walk over to her car. She opened the door and sat down, preparing herself to open the envelope. She took a deep breath as she began to read the letter it contained.

Dear Cuddy,

I knew you'd come… You were never able to resist my throbbing diagnostic skills…
In all honesty, I don't know if you'd really come. If you're reading this, you obviously did. If you didn't, Wilson probably brought this to you because he'd want you to know how I felt, specifically after I tell him to burn this should you not come, but that's fine with me if he does disregard my dying wishes.

You're probably wondering why I took the time to write you this. There are things that need to be said, and although they are things you would never expect to hear, or in this case read from me, they are things you deserve to know.

I say it in this letter because I could never be enough of a man to say it to you in person. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for taking the Vicodin that fucked us over. I'm sorry for treating you like complete and utter shit for the two months after our break up. I'm sorry for marrying that hooker to spite you. I'm sorry about your dining room. It was never my intention to do that or cause you any harm. I had honestly just wanted to return your hairbrush, but when I saw you with that guy after you'd told me you weren't seeing anyone I'd lost it. You know that I'm possessive and jealous. I assumed you'd lied to me and I was angry. The only rational thing to come to my mind was to do what I did, and I'm sorry. Some would call it a crime of passion, but I would call it a crime of "I'm fucking insane and an idiot".

There's something else I want you to know… I know you probably hate me with a burning passion, and I'm okay with that. I deserve it. I deserve everything that's happened to me since I fucked you over, and I'm okay with it. I digress. That's not what I want you to know, because you obviously know that I deserve it all.

I want you to know that you were oh so cliché "love of my life". The few months we spent together were, dare I say it, the happiest of my post infarction life. I owe you everything. I'd probably have been maggot food a long time ago instead of now had it not been for you. You're the reason I've made it to the ripe old age of fifty-eight.

I love you Cuddy, and I never stopped. I'm pretty sure that by the time you've read this I've been gone for a few hours, I'm probably already buried six feet under. But at least you now know that you were the best thing to happen to this miserable bastard. Do me a favor, even though I don't deserve it. Take care of Wilson for me.

Love always,

House.

P.S. – Your ass is huge.

She couldn't help but smile through her tears at the last line. The letter had said so much to her, and it had hurt her to read it, but she couldn't deny that she felt a sense of peace after reading it. It was the final closure that their relationship had needed. House had passed knowing that she would always love him, and through his passing she had learned that he had never stopped loving her.

In the end, although she would not get to live out the rest of her life with him, she knew that he would always be with her.

I apologize for the craptastic ending, but it's 6:06am, and I just wanted to get this one shot over with because it has been nagging at me to be written for months, and now I can focus on more important things, like updating ATB and NWTL. I hope you liked it, and don't forget to leave a review.