Heyaaaa guys and gals! Here I am with a new fic. I wrote this with a friend of mine in Italian, so this is a translation but with new bits. Samisa2 (twitter) and I are happy to upload it in English thanks also to SammiMD, my abso-fuckin-lutely amazing beta-reader!

This story takes place in mid-season 6, during the Luddy period *pukes*. Anyway Lucas won't be on the story, it's House and Cuddy centric with just few mentions of him.

Read and Review... Thnx :)

:::FIGHTING IN A FLAT:::

Chapter 1.

The water from the shower head ran quickly out of the tub: off her body and then down the drain. She was deep in thought. She had been in this house for a few days now, but felt as if she had always lived there, as if the apartment had been hers all this time.

"Dr. Cuddy. I'm sorry but it will take about a week to eliminate all the termites. We have to close up the entire house. You will need to move out and stay with some relatives or a friend, or in a hotel. You cannot stay here. I'm sorry"

That had been earlier today, when a nice man in his thirties had come to her house and ordered her to move elsewhere. He told her to go stay with family...

I have no family here except my daughter.

...or a friend...

I have no friends except two weird doctors.

So she tried to book a room in a hotel near the hospital.

"I'm sorry Doctor, but there are no rooms available. There's a reunion at the University of Princeton this week - we are fully booked, sorry."

Bad things happen all at once: when something bad happens something else always comes along within a couple of days, and you find yourself in complete chaos. She was in trouble and she truly didn't want to be in that situation, not at that moment. She felt obliged to ask a favor of her old friends

Friends!

She didn't know if she could call them friends. They no longer really spoke to her.
Wilson had been avoiding her and their traditional lunch for a few weeks now, and House didn't speak to her if it wasn't absolutely necessary.

"Why are you asking us? Can't you ask your boyfriend, Lucas? He's homeless, is he?"

She stood there, stunned by Wilson's question; she truly hadn't expected him to behave this way. Had she really ruined their friendship? Their relationship had always made her feel so comfortable and safe.

"I can't go to his place. He's working on a complicated case and it'll be... dangerous, you know..."
"Dangerous?"
"Not dangerous as such, but annoying: I'd be a nuisance with my own habits, and Rachel's. He uses his home as an office: customers arriving at all hours, things scattered all over the floor..."
"I'm still not sure about this."
"Wilson! Are you going to help me or not?"

Her tone was too annoyed and argumentative. It wasn't like her usual administrative tone.

Why am I being so hard on him?

She stood there hopeless, helpless. She had a child with her, but no place to sleep. Her maternal instincts began to kick the rational part of her mind.

…So…?

She felt alone in the house, even though Rachel was in the bedroom sleeping. She spent a few minutes thinking about what had happened that day.

She had been to work, signed the usual pointless documents that needed her approval, seen a few patients in the clinic, and given two consults. A normal day, but that night she felt more tired than usual.

The water ran faster on her shoulders, pouring out warm relief. She hadn't the strength to move. There she was – defenses down, thinking about her life. She knew she had to get out of the shower. She had so many things to do, but she couldn't move.

Suddenly a loud noise made her jump: it was the microwave timer warning her that the pizza was ready. When she'd arrived and opened the refrigerator of the abandoned house she hadn't found any food, as expected. So she decided to heat a pre-packaged pizza she had bought on the way. She would warm up a bit of milk for Rachel. Their dinner was all settled.

She turned off the shower, took the robe that she found in the first closet, since she had forgotten to bring her own, and left the bathroom. She dried fast, trying not to waste any time: she was cold and hungry. She began to quickly dry her hair when Rachel started getting fussy.

She went into the bedroom and took Rachel in her arms, trying to calm her down.

"Rachel, don't cry. You're a big girl now and big kids don't cry."

She put the girl on the sofa and turned on the TV, "America's Smartest Model", and laughed. She thought that if he could see her, he would have mocked her for watching that kind of TV program. She started channel surfing unsuccessfully - there weren't any interesting programs on.

She turned off the light because Rachel had fallen asleep again. She returned to the other room to get something comfortable for the night. Among other things, she had also forgotten her pajamas. It wasn't really her fault: she'd had to take everything she needed so quickly that she hadn't had the time to think about what she would need.

I forgot all the more important things.

She took the first T-shirt she found in the third drawer. The shirt was slightly big, but she wore it anyway. She put the robe on the bed and returned to the kitchen.

The pizza was cold, but she didn't care. She was too sleepy to think of re-heating it. She cut it into slices then walked to the fridge and took out a bottle of water.

I really need to do some shopping tomorrow.

She could sense a headache starting to kick in.

I'm really tired.

She was staring at the half empty fridge when she heard another noise. This time it wasn't the oven. She focused a bit more, trying to figure out what it was. By the time she did, it was too late...

He hadn't thought about a way to get revenge. In fact, he hadn't even thought about revenge at all. But what that man had done was too much - due to a stupid over-protective P.I. he couldn't watch the new episode of General Hospital on Wilson's TV.

"House, I think we should take some revenge on that guy"

Revenge? If you want to taste real revenge, it has to be planned to perfection. Every single detail has to be agreed upon with your partner-in-crime, and every single weakness of the poor victim has to be examined.

House took his coat and left the loft he shared with Wilson, cursing the poor detective and his girlfriend who had removed cable from the coma patients' rooms.

"I'm going to a place where possums are not part of the fauna and where Oncologists do NOT dry their hair with a hair dryer in the morning!"

That's what he told Wilson before limping out of the door that evening. House was sure Wilson was hiding something from him because every time he left the house he nervously asked where he was going.

Either he has a new girlfriend and doesn't want me to scare the crap out of her or he's keeping a secret from me.

He got on his bike, put his helmet on, put the cane in the support, and started the engine. In less than ten minutes he was in front of his old apartment.

He parked his bike on the street and, without looking at the other parked cars, he limped up the three steps leading him to the green front door.

His soap opera was starting in a few minutes. The twins would confess to being the ones who had poisoned the Dean. It was going to be fun.

He climbed the stairs, opened the door and walked along the dimly lit corridor.

It's been months since I've been here. Hopefully there is still beer in the fridge.

He reached the door of his apartment and took the keys out of his pocket.

Everything sounded so calm - there wasn't any noise but the light footsteps coming from the others apartments. He inserted the key in the lock, turned the key and opened the door.

He heard a rustle, the sound of something falling, the refrigerator door snapping shut, and an in-drawn breath.

"What the hell are you doing here?"