A soft, breathy sound.
Again.
Another one.
Cuddy yawned, opening her eyes sleepily.
House's back was facing her—it was jerking.
Cuddy looked towards the hall.
Wilson, who had been standing there when she went to sleep, was gone.
She swallowed, gently placing her hand on house's shoulder.
He sniffed, wiping his face hurriedly with his arm.
"Don't." she said, quietly, "don't hide them. Don't keep the hurt inside just to keep your pride."
Another sniff, then a quiet sob.
Cuddy bit her lower lip, gently rubbing his back as he cried.
He stopped, suddenly, reaching back behind himself for the emesis basin.
Cuddy placed it in front of his mouth, just in time.
He lay there, panting, tears streaming down his face.
"It's ok." she said, breaking a barrier she never thought to break as she climbed up into the bed next to him, placing her arms around his shoulders, "everything is going to be ok."
He looked back at her, unfocused eyes completely confused and desperate.
"It's going to be ok."
He looked at her for a long, long time, face slightly green from the room spinning in front of him.
Then he nodded, carefully lowering his head back to the pillows.
Cuddy squeezed his shoulders gently, resting her head against his shoulder-blade.
She felt him drift off to sleep, and closed her eyes to follow him.