Disclaimer: I don't own House M.D. nor the characters. I don't own "Let Go" by Ingrid Michaelson either.

Hey, I'll move out of the way for you.
Hey, I'll move out of the way for her too.

And you stepped back because this wasn't how it was suppose to go. You were confused and this was wrong and you don't know how she came back into your lives.

And damn it, against everything, he still loved her. More than you. So you left them to it because they had a lot of issues and none of them included you because she didn't know and he wasn't going to tell her. And you backed away.

I never thought we'd end up here in separate cages.
It doesn't go like this, you've left out some pages.

Three weeks later and he seems happier and it fucks with your mind because you can't tell if he's faking or not. You are sure he isn't though because after all, isn't this what he wanted? For her to leave Mark? Sure, it's a year later, but according to her, he still waited for her to come back and he did, you guess. Because you meant nothing to him, according to what she knows. According to what she doesn't know.

Because the one thing you do know about him now is that he didn't tell her. He didn't tell her about you. And what you were, about what had happened. About the feelings you felt, the intensity he had shared with you, the late nights and early mornings, and... everything he was.

Hey, when was the last time you laughed?
And did you mean it when you did?
I'm just wondering.

You have to corner him now in a remote area. Not because she hovers around him or because he's avoiding you. It just make you feel better to chase him down. You still enjoy the chase even when you claimed it pissed you off. Now, it's all you have.

And he smiles, but his eyes tell you that he's still that cynic and you return the smile because he hasn't changed. At least, not yet. He seems happy and you know it's not your place, but you ask him anyway. You outright ask him if he is happy now, if he is happy that she came back to him, that she chose him.

His smile grows, but you can't return it now because you saw the change in those two penetrating blues of his that tell you he's missing something as much as you are. He doesn't answer your question, but gives you one in return. "Are you?"

There's sorrow in your voice, it's abounding.
It's astounding how you live so close to your cure.

It's late and you're heading for the door and he catches up to you, even with his leg, and you slow because you haven't had time with him in so long. He immediately tells you she is waiting out in the car and you almost don't want to exit alongside of him because you know she's suspicious of you even though you haven't done anything with him since she's been back.

He doesn't smile. And those blues of his are dull and you want to place your hands on either side of his face and provide your warmth to him. But, you don't. You look to the floor. Because he's in this now and he made her leave Mark, and suddenly it's not as fun as he thought it would be, but he's all she has now and he made her believe in things she thought had died. She believed in him. And it's hard for you to see him uncertain and sad because you know it's because of you. Because of what you had.

You let him leave the hospital first. Because he is alone now. And you can't figure out how to be there for him without treading on the toes of another who has the right to him. Besides, you still can't be sure if it's even worth fighting for.

I never know what to do with my love.
I never know what to do with my hands.
So I'll put them behind my back.

And it's not until you actually see them together and he has a smile on his face again, a smile that held something you've never seen, but wish you did when it was just the two of you. There's something in that smile that could win over his worst enemies. Charm mixed with something genuine.

And you have to look away. And entwine your hands. And focus on the clicks of your heels as you walk away because tears really don't become you.

Hey, don't you know what it means when I say hey?
See it in my face, I'm breaking.

You're too desperate for your own good. And you hate being civil to her and letting her coax her way back into your hospital, back into your life, when all you can think about was how he was with you when she ran. It doesn't seem fair and it makes you more angry than you should be and it saddens you as well because you used to like her. Before she came back.

So, you confront him. You know he's still here and you know she went home. And your tears are spilling before you even get to his office. But, you wipe them away as you push open his door and greet him. He looks at you, returns the greeting, but he doesn't see you and it kills you because he's trying to be blind.

And before you know it, you're crying again and you feel ridiculous and wish you never came to see him in the first place.

I've waited for so long just to know
That you'd wrap yourself around me if you could let go.

He comes toward you, and you think he's going to pass you and leave you there in his office, but he stops and that makes you bring your eyes to him. And he stands there for a moment, his eyes on you, lingering with a want that neither of you will voice.

You watch his hand raise and his fingers wipe the wetness from your face. You want to go to him, clutch on to him, because you can't take not being physical with him even in the simplest form. It hurts to have his fingertips on your cheek, but you know being within his arms would not break you, but comfort you. Because you would know that hug would come from a decision, whether it would be in your favor or not. But, it wouldn't matter because it would mean there was a choice involved and you figure either way, the hurt would lessen once the lingering in limbo was through.

But he hasn't decided and he still thinks of you and you long for him, and you both know there will be nothing more than fingertips brushing raw skin. A small percentage of your body against his, but no more. Only small percents. Because going further, involving more physical contact, would make it messy and it cannot happen. Not until the feelings go away.

Can I move out of the way tomorrow?
Can I move into the way tonight?

He lowers his hand and you want to clutch onto it, but you don't. You raise yourself up onto your toes and lean toward him. Your lips meet his and he doesn't pull away. Not for a second. And it's just your lips and a little of your face that had no choice in the matter which remain in contact with him. Nothing else. Even though you desperately want to pull him closer to you.

Playing this game of pretend all the time is tiring and you just want to stop. You wish he would be honest, you wish he would tell her about what you two had been while she was gone. You wish for so much, but this, right here, is all you can get. And tomorrow, it will be different. Tomorrow, you will step back like you always do.

But, right now, he makes a move, and his hand slips along your neck and into your hair and he hasn't forgotten you and it's still all there, but you know there will be tomorrow. And you will return to backing off and he will keep away. And it will be tomorrow.