A.N: This short fic was inspired by the fanvideo "Broken Bones" from couttingonions. It is, again, the kiss scene at the end of Joy To The World (clichéd, I know).
"Too bad. You would have been a great mother."
She stared into his blue eyes for only a second, letting the words sink in. She let the back of her head hit against the wall in frustration. Of course. Foolish of her to have expected anything else from him. He was House; it was in his nature to rob others of their happiness. Still, why had she believed this time would be different? Why did she keep falling into delusion? Why hadn't it been different?
"You son of a bitch." Her tone was not of rage. No, it had never been rage to drive her, to take control. But the pent up frustration at not ever being able to be happy enforced her words with meaning. "When I was getting a baby, you told me I would suck as a mother. Now that I've lost it… You tell me I would be great as a mother." Her tone was hopeless now, matching her sad face, puffy red eyes, and the tear trails running down her cheeks. He met her stare with a surprised expression.
"Why?" She started, feeling her eyes fill with unshed tears for the fourth -or fifth- time that day, she didn't care. She had hidden her sadness from him for far too long. "Why do you need to negate everything?" Her voice broke then, she going through the day in her mind again.
Blue met blue as he stared down at her. "I don't know." He whispered. Then, as the first tear slid down her cheek, he bent down, acting almost on impulse, and pressed his lips to hers, one hand on her hip, the other entangled in her hair, resting on her back. She responded to the kiss with a passion fueled by despair and need- She needed him there, to hold her, to kiss her, to keep the sadness at bay, if only for a few seconds.
Her hand came up to rest on his strong jaw, their kiss more desperate, her breath coming in hiccups. His hands were both on her back, rubbing soothingly, calming her. Cuddy closed her eyes, never wanting this moment to stop. To her dismay, though, just as she wrapped her arms around his neck, House stopped moving, slowly separating her from him. Cuddy was about to start kissing him again, the mere thought therapeutic to her, but he spoke.
"I should go."
She struggled to whisper out something, anything to make him stay, but even though her mouth formed the words, no sound came out. She held onto his hand, not wanting to separate from the warmth she now felt. That comfort was necessary right now; he was necessary. He had to stay. For her sake, he had to stay by her.
But even as she frantically thought of this, he was walking away, she grabbing onto his hand as if it were her lifeline. When he at last distanced himself enough that their fingers were not touching, she let her hand fall, and stared down at the wooden floor. Cuddy's very core was cold, numb, as if she wouldn't be allowed to feel anything for anyone again. She turned around, not even caring to see the door close, and walked to her room, her mind suddenly filled with all-too-recent memories and failures, gray eyes brimming with tears.