This is a Oneshot. I don't own 'em, don't sue me. And I don't own Tick, Tick, BOOM either. Note on lyrics (in bold): May be slightly incorrect due to the sketchy internet and the fact my sheet music's at home.

This was random and a bit vague towards the end, I think. However, I do feel there are enough facts to "get it." Hopefully. I'm hinting at a lot of things. Anyway, it starts around the Tritter court time and then moves to a few months later.

You're on the air, I'm underground.

Signal's fading, can't be found.

"Are you planning on making yourself comfortable in here?" Cuddy asked, staring at House as he had his feet propped up on her desk as he sat across from her.

"Excuse me?"

Cuddy narrowed her eyes. "Get your feet off my desk."

House's eyebrows drew together. "No."

"House." Cuddy pushed steel into her tone.

"My thigh hurts," House told her.

"No, it doesn't. Feet down."

House was offended. "What do you mean it doesn't?"

"You popped two Vicodin before walking in here, House," Cuddy gave him a look. "I'm not stupid."

"Did I say you were?"

"You implied it."

"When?"

"Forget it." Cuddy shook her head.

"Cuddy-" House began.

"And get your damn feet off my desk!" Cuddy slammed a palm to her desk, causing a stinging to spread through her hand.

House lowered his feet and stood up. "Guess I'm a little off on the dates of your menstrual cycle this month."

Cuddy's face showed she was not pleased. She was about to respond, but held back her remark as House let himself out of her office.

Come to your senses,

Defenses are not the way to go and you know, or at least you knew.

Everything's strange, you've changed and I don't know what to do to get through.

I don't know what to do.

"I need it, Cuddy!" House exclaimed, throwing his arms out, his cane narrowly missing her.

"You don't need it, House." Cuddy shook her head. "You need help."

"I don't need help!" He was furious. "When have I ever needed help?"

"I don't know," Cuddy shot back. "Maybe when you vomited up your insides on Christmas."

"Wilson told you-"

"That was your wake up call, House," Cuddy cut him off. "No, that was my wake up call. Now, get in the clinic. I don't want to see you again until two o' clock."

House took off, but didn't go towards the clinic. Cuddy sighed and watched him limp away from her. She rubbed her forehead with her hand.

House was House and he she was certain he always would be. She couldn't reach him. Even after all she did, even after he easily could have overdosed on Christmas, he still was unreachable.

I finally open up, for you I would do anything.

But you've turned off the volume just when I've begun to sing.

Cuddy drummed her fingers lightly on her dining room table. A bottle of red wine sat in front of her. A glass of wine was tolerable and beneficial. A bottle, however, was damn near sad. Of course, that didn't compare to the sadness, the tightness in her chest, when she thought about the fact that she could be in jail this very moment.

She lied. If it wasn't for that judge, if it wasn't for the fact that she could be so convincing (even though she would swear the judge saw right through her), she wouldn't be here. She would be in a cell next to his.

It wasn't a love for him or even a feeling of simply wanting him at the hospital that caused her to lie to the court, to fabricate documents. It was the sheer fact that she felt guilty that she had let things get so far gone that House was stealing drugs from dead patients in order to manage his pain. Something was wrong with that and she hadn't seen it or stopped it in time. Although, maybe it was a case of seeing, but choosing not to believe it.

Of course, it was House's fault because she did tell him to apologize to Tritter. She repeatedly told him to fix his mess. He didn't and that's what caused this entire issue. But, she lied. For him. For herself. To rid the guilt of not stopping it before it reached the catastrophic breaking point.

And now... now she would make him work harder. She would make him earn her trust, earn her respect back. Of course, it wasn't just about him. It was about giving some respect back to herself. She forfeited every part of her being when she perjured herself in court and she needed to get that back.

As she raised the bottle back to her lips again, Cuddy tried to ignore the fact that House would never outwardly show his appreciation. She ignored the fact that he would stare at her ass, he would insult her, same as always. And she ignored the fact that she almost gave up her life to help him and he would never acknowledge that he was thankful or, let alone, even cared.

I have to laugh.

We sure put on a show.

Love is passé in this day and age.

How can we expect it to grow?

"Funny thing about revealing dresses, Cuddy." House was, of course, staring at her ass.

"And what's that?" Cuddy stepped back, blocking his line of vision with the front of her blue silk dress.

"Some might think you're wearing it for specific dirty purposes," House replied and looked away from her.

"The only reason you're even here is because I promised to wear a backless dress," Cuddy said.

They were at a hospital sponsored event to raise money for children's cancer research. It was a dinner banquet in which the sponsors would be able to hear advancing researching techniques while they engaged in dinner in the hope they would donate more money. Wilson was the main person behind pushing this benefit.

"And your dress cuts down very, very low." House trailed his hand over Cuddy's bare backside.

"Don't." Cuddy moved away.

"Smile, Cuddy," House told her, "you're scaring the sponsors."

"You need to stop, House," Cuddy warned.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because this is a professional engagement," Cuddy replied.

Wilson had approached and overheard most of their conversation. He stood in front of them, a small smile on his face. "Like an old married couple."

"Hi, James," Cuddy greeted.

Wilson looked to House. "I can't believe you showed."

"Cuddy promised me sex." House shrugged.

"House." Cuddy glared.

"What?" House asked her, quite loudly.

Wilson turned back to Cuddy. "We're about to get started."

"I'm giving the greeting speech, right?" Cuddy asked him and looked to the podium across the room.

"Yes." Wilson nodded.

"I'll be back then."

Cuddy headed to the podium located on the small stage. House and Wilson both watched her make her way across the room. Wilson turned to House.

"You only came to see her, didn't you?" Wilson asked.

"What?" House asked, mocking confusion. "Nooo. I love kids. And cancer."

Wilson knew better. "You have a thing for her."

"Yeah, because screeching banshees are my thing," House replied smoothly.

"Right," Wilson agreed, but he still knew better.

Come to your senses.

The fences inside are not for real if we feel as we did and I do.

Can't you recall when this all began?

It was only you and me.

It was only me and you.

"Am I suppose to walk you to your car or something?" House asked as he stepped out into the night air with Cuddy as the banquet was wrapping up.

"No," she answered and began towards her car.

"Good." House waited a moment and then sighed. He stepped alongside of her. "Fine. Let's go."

"I said no," she told him.

"You didn't mean it," he replied.

"House..." Cuddy glared.

"What did I do now?" he exclaimed.

Cuddy stopped in her tracks. House looked to her and then turned so he was facing her. Cuddy wanted so badly to touch him, to feel him, in order to be sure he was as real as she was in this moment. But, she didn't and the cold air grew even colder around them.

"Do you remember before?" she asked him, eyes locked with his. "Before everything? When things were different?"

"Things are always different, Cuddy," he responded. "You're going to have to be a bit more specific."

"You were pissed at me when I hired you, but you still accepted," Cuddy said. "You treated it as an apology for your thigh. After a while... we worked better, House. And then something happened and you took more and more Vicodin and I hope it wasn't because of anything I did. I don't know why you suddenly changed."

House paused and then shrugged. "The pain got worse."

Cuddy stared at him and House understood why.

"My thigh," he clarified for her.

"House-" He didn't mean his thigh and Cuddy knew it.

"We're not doing this," House told her, shaking his head.

"It wasn't like this before, House," Cuddy replied desperately, her eyes on him.

But now the air is filled with confusion.

We've replaced care with illusion.

It's cool to be cold, nothing lasts anymore.

Love becomes disposable.

This is the shape of things we cannot ignore.

House turned from her in order to head to his car, but Cuddy stopped him by placing a hand on his arm. He turned back to her, letting out a sigh.

"What do you want, Cuddy?" he asked.

"What do I want?" Cuddy repeated. "House, what have I ever wanted?"

"Money?" House tried to stall the conversation. Maybe if he made her angry enough, she would give up on it.

Cuddy shook her head. "House, please-"

"I don't know the answer to that," House told her.

"You know the answer to everything," she replied.

"I'm suppose to know what you want?" House stared at her. "That could anything. Shoes."

"House, stop being facetious." Cuddy was hurt. This was serious and he wasn't treating it as such.

"Okay." He shrugged in response.

Cuddy ran her tongue along her bottom teeth, thinking. "I don't want you."

"I thought we were talking about what you wanted, not reducing ourselves to insulting me."

"Don't take it as an insult," Cuddy replied.

"What should I take it as then?" House asked. He wanted to leave.

"Nothing," Cuddy answered too quickly, too annoyed. "Damn it, House."

"I don't know what I did to you, Cuddy, but can you please be normal for two minutes and tell me what the hell is going on?" House channeled her annoyance and shot it back.

"Have you even been listening to me?" Cuddy asked him. "God damn it, House! We've been through- there's been so much that has happened with you and all your drugs, and every time I've covered for you, and your stupid ideas that almost kill people, and you..."

"I?"

"You..." Cuddy's eyes glistened. "You remain House."

Come to your senses,

Suspense is fine if you're just an empty image

Emanating out of the screen.

Baby, be real, you can feel again.

House turned from her, but didn't walk away. She waited, suddenly wanting him to leave. Cuddy didn't know where their conversation would go from here. Frankly, she didn't want it to go any further. She confessed too much and wanted to take back her verbal purge.

"You gonna go?"

He turned back to her. "No."

House approached her. He ran a hand into her hair and gently lifted her head before kissing her. She kissed him back, wishing it felt as real as it had before. Before things happened. Back when it was different. Back when they happened to kiss sometimes.

She pulled away from him, taking a step back, her heels scraping along the concrete. She shook her head slightly.

"House..." Cuddy's eyes met his. "Greg."

"Lisa," he returned, an automatic response to his name.

"You don't need to do this." She didn't mean the kiss. "In order to feel anything, you don't need to make yourself do something to get that."

"Neither do you." His eyes were burning hers.

"What do you mean?"

He stepped in and kissed her again, but she couldn't let it happen. She couldn't let him happen to her again. Cuddy pulled back, her heels scraping once more.

Deep in my eyes, what do you see?

Deep in my sighs, listen to me.

Come to your senses.

Baby, come back alive.

"We can't do this when you're not Greg." Cuddy shook her head. "You became House and left Greg in the dust. The Greg that used to do things and engage with people. Sure, you were sarcastic and mean as hell, but you were Greg."

"How can you say that when you're Cuddy?" House asked her. "There's no Lisa."

"She's right here," Cuddy told him. "I'm right here. House only calls Lisa 'Cuddy,' because he can't be Greg anymore."

"You're saying I'm a Jekyll and Hyde?" House took a step back from her.

Cuddy took in a slow breath. This was hurting her. "No... you're not two different people. You're one person who changed."

"I don't know what you're asking of me, Cuddy," House told her tiredly with a sigh.

"I want Greg back," she replied as if it was simple, something they both knew it was anything but. "I want House to get off the drugs and let Greg come back."

"Greg needs the drugs for the pain in his thigh," House said.

Cuddy shook her head. "He didn't used to."

House put up a wall at that very moment. He wasn't going to let her in. He couldn't. So, he turned from her and walked away while Cuddy watched him go, knowing that she would never have Greg back. There was only House.

Fin.