At the request of "Bubbles," my dear friend who wanted a story from Season 5 "before all the crap," and my new pal, Ilona, who just wants me to write, I submit this multi-chapter fic. It begins at the end of the "Emancipation," offering some additions and/or alternatives to several S5 episodes. Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: If I was connected with the show, my life would be different.


Emancipation Proclamation

"Your little game didn't work," House said. "I'm not Foreman, and you're not me."

House looked up from the front desk caught sight of Cuddy through the glass doors of the clinic. He felt his stomach flutter.

Wilson saw the change in his friend's demeanor and turned to see what had caused it.

Cuddy.

"You wanna talk about her?"

"Nope," House quickly answered, turning abruptly and effectively shutting down any conversation.

"Alright," Wilson said, following behind him as they walked toward the main doors, stepping around a man carrying a bouquet of flowers. "You're gonna be okay, House."

"Good to know," House answered flippantly, but stopped unexpectedly, turning to frown at the man they'd just passed.

"Yes," the nurse was answering his question. "Go right through those doors."

Wilson watched curiously, his eyes darting between House and the man being directed to the clinic.

"In fact, she's right there…"

"Yes, I see her," the man said. "Thanks for your help."

Wilson tried to hide his grin. It was amazing how quickly House could go from noncommittal and aloof to territorial and jealous when it came to Cuddy.

"Who's that?"

"A man."

House scowled. "A jerk, you mean."

"Because he's bringing Cuddy flowers?" Wilson asked, skeptically. "She just lost the baby she was hoping to adopt. It's a nice gesture."

"He's preying on her when she's most vulnerable."

"Ah, of course," Wilson feigned enlightenment. "A man giving her flowers four days after the loss is much more dangerous than the man sticking his tongue down her throat the night it happened."

"I walked away!" House argued defensively, clearly ruffled by the suggestion.

"And why did you walk away, House?"

He tried again to push House to talk about his feelings for Cuddy. The kiss they'd shared had meant something to him - a lot, if he had to venture a guess – because House had been fighting himself for days, torn between what he wanted and the fears that haunted him.

"Go to Hell," House huffed, glaring one last time at the man talking to Cuddy before quickly turning and limping away.

Wilson chuckled.

"Goodnight, House."

H H H

Cuddy knew it was House before she even opened the door.

He'd been avoiding her for days in spite of all her efforts to talk with him, so of course he'd finally find a breakthrough at an ungodly hour.

"It's one o'clock in the morning," she whined as she flung the door open.

"Emergencies don't punch a time clock."

His eyes perused her, taking in her disheveled curls, make-up free face and the way her robe was loosely tied with a slight gap at the front to reveal the pink sheer fabric of her nightie.

"You don't have a case."

She was barefoot and her toes painted a deep red.

"It's a follow-up."

That fabric clung to her curves. The curves he'd held against him only four days ago.

His stomach fluttered…again.

Dammit!

"You don't have follow-ups; you have law suits," she quipped, crossing her arms in front of her as she leaned against the door frame.

Her arms were pushing her breasts up and he couldn't stop his eyes from devouring her cleavage.

Cuddy looked at him suspiciously. "Why are you here, House?"

"Wanted to check-in on you," he answered, as if the very act proved his nobility.

"You had a wet dream and needed to come check-out my cleavage?"

"That would be the reason for the dream, not a clean-up response," he pointed out.

She grinned, and her gaze softened.

"You want to talk?" Maybe he was finally ready to deal with what was happening between them, or at least what had happened between them.

"Nope."

And just like that, he dashed hope.

"You just want to check on me?"

"Yep."

"Because you're concerned?"

"Wilson says it's the right thing to do."

"Of course." It was his characteristic deflection. She was tired of trying to bait him into talking to her. "Good night, House."

She moved to close the door, but he blocked her with his cane.

"So you're okay?"

Her eyes searched his, catching a glimpse of sincerity and concern before he nervously looked away.

"No, House. I'm not okay," she said honestly. "I'm hurt and sad."

His eyes locked on hers in an intense stare, surprised by her openness, but more interested in the heart behind her words.

"I'm barren and angry that I'm too damaged to have a baby of my own, and too unlucky to have one any other way. I feel betrayed, and alone, and afraid... and very tired. I'm really, really tired."

His expression turned lost, the same look he'd had just before he kissed her the night she'd lost Joy. God, she wanted to kiss him again. She wanted to feel his arms around her, to drown in that strange combination of danger and safety, of passion and comfort that she only felt with him. She wanted to forget her pain and lose herself in him. But she couldn't risk it. She couldn't risk the inevitable rejection. Not again.

Her heart was an open wound, bruised and raw, and he wasn't even ready to acknowledge what was happening between them, much less actually explore it.

"Go home," she suddenly said, and closed the door on a stunned House.

H H H

Cuddy jumped when the door to her office flung open.

"This is no time for you to start dating," he said, stepping through her office door with his typical rude arrogance and entitlement.

"Go away," Cuddy said without looking up from her the paperwork on her desk. She only had a few minutes to review her notes before a meeting that would determine if they would receive the funding for a new pediatric wing.

"You're too vulnerable to start dating."

"I'm not dating," she responded without emotion. "Now leave."

It was only nine o'clock in the morning, too early for him to even be at work, much less harassing her.

"You're wearing perfume," he pointed out, and she knew he was about to inventory the changes in her appearance to prove his point. She cut him off at the pass.

"My top is unbuttoned an extra button, my heels are an inch higher and I'm not wearing panties," she said. "I'm on the prowl to distract from my grief. You're right. Now go."

"You're not wearing panties?"

Cuddy looked up at him then, amused by his expression (a mix of shock, amazement, curiosity and lasciviousness) and empowered by how quickly she could turn him on.

"You wish." She gave him a teasing grin.

"Along with every other man in this hospital," he quipped and plopped down in the chair in front of her desk. "And some of the women."

"I don't have time to play, House," she said, though she was secretly pleased they were back on somewhat normal ground. At least he wasn't avoiding her, even though there still was a tension beneath the surface that was a bit disarming. "Go see Wilson. Or better yet, do your job."

"My patient is stable and awaiting tests, thank you very much," he said. "And all Wilson does is lecture me about how I should talk to you."

Cuddy tilted her head to the side as she searched his expression, her interest perked by this tidbit.

House wondered if she realized how that move made him want to move his lips along the line from her chin to collar bone.

"Do we need to talk?" she asked, giving him yet another opportunity to let her in, to deal with the elephant in the room and move this thing forward.

"Nope."

Naturally.

Cuddy sighed.

"And you shouldn't talk on this date tonight, either."

She shook her head. "That will make for an exciting date."

"Ah-Ha! You do have a date!"

"Yes, I have a date," she said. "Puzzle solved. Happy now?"

He was far from happy.

"You should be careful," he said. "You just suffered a loss and some guy with flowers sweeps in pretending to make you feel better, when all he really wants is to get in your panties…if you were wearing any."

Cuddy shook her head as she stood and began gathering the files she would need for her meeting. "If you weren't such a jerk, I'd think you were actually concerned," she said. "And how did you know he brought me flowers?"

"I saw him last night when I was leaving."

She grinned.

"So that's why you came to see me last night."

House rolled his eyes at her flattered expression, even though he felt that annoying flutter in his stomach at the way she looked at him. It was like he was in med school again and she'd just said yes.

"Don't try to make this about me," he said. "This is going to be your problem."

Cuddy smirked. "Since when is going out on a date a problem?"

"Not everyone is going to walk away when you throw yourself at them just because you lost a baby."

Her mouth dropped open, exasperated by his obvious reference.

"I threw myself at you?" Cuddy shook her head, on the verge of laughing.

"Since when did you become a revisionist?" she asked, walking passed him to her office door. "Or does the truth only matter when it doesn't require you to man up."

"So you admit you want me."

Cuddy turned, forcing House to stop abruptly before running into her. She stared at him with fire dancing in her eyes.

"I'm going on a date tonight, House," she said emphatically. "With a man who isn't afraid to talk about his feelings and actually goes after what he wants. And if that happens to involve more than dinner and a night cap…" she shrugged with a flirtatious grin and sashayed out the door.

"This is going to be your shame!" he said, following close behind.

House smiled at the beautiful sway of her hips as she walked down the hall. Her ass really was a piece of art.

"Don't come crying to me when he uses you!"

Cuddy laughed throatily and stepped through the doors of the elevator. "Oh, I won't."

"I can see your thong line, Dr. Cuddy!" House yelled, his voice echoing through the corridors.

She turned to glare at him, but it was difficult to maintain a sense of indignation when his tongue was pressed against his cheek like a rogue and he waggled his brow at her.

Damn him!

H H H

They had only just been served their drinks when House barreled up to the table.

"Why Dr. Cuddy! What a surprise?"

Cuddy rolled her eyes.

"You must be Dr. House," her date said.

Only a brief hint of surprise crossed his features before House answered. "She hasn't stop talking about me, huh? She's got it bad."

The man stood. He was only a couple inches shorter than House, slim but muscled, his hair thick and groomed, his eyes a little too green to be real. He was obviously well off, too if his suit and watch revealed anything.

"She warned me an ass would interrupt our dinner," he responded with ease. "I was pretty sure she didn't mean a donkey. Care to join us."

Cuddy caught the slight squint of his eyes, and tried to hide her grin. House was taken aback by the response, though he hid it well.

"We've only just ordered drinks."

"Good move," House said. "It's much better to take advantage of a drunk than a grieving woman."

Cuddy closed her eyes in an attempt to shield her from the embarrassment. Even though she knew what to expect from House, he never ceased to surpass her fears and expectations.

"Is that how you do it, Dr. House?"

"Don't need to," he said, gesturing to his leg. "Women love a man with a cane. It's the gimp game. And I don't have to numb them with booze to get a yes."

The man laughed. "Good thing I don't need alcohol with Lisa," he replied with resounding arrogance. "She likes sex…and me."

Cuddy grinned, resting her chin in her palm as she watched the power play.

House glowered at the man, not at all pleased her date seemed to be a formidable opponent.

"That's why she came to me when she decided to adopt a child."

House flinched, and his jaw grew tense.

Cuddy frowned.

It wasn't the first time she'd seen him react this way when her decision to adopt was mentioned. Had he wanted to be a part of the decision? Had he felt slighted that she'd come to Wilson – and now Charles – instead of him? Cuddy felt an epiphany tickling her psyche.

"This is Charles Cavanaugh," Cuddy said to House when he turned to glare at her. She felt the need to disclose a little truth about their relationship. "He's the lawyer who was going to handle the adoption."

"WILL handle the adoption," he corrected, eyeing her with compassion. "You'll have another chance."

She saw House begin to fidget, looking around the room uncomfortably.

"Isn't that her decision?"

Charles looked at House, surprised by the biting tone of his response.

"Of course," he said. "And I intend to encourage and support her in any way I can."

"And by support you mean…"

"Was there something you needed, House?" Cuddy interrupted.

She could tell by the tension in his jaw and the way he grasped his cane he was moving from annoying and crude to hateful and rude. House was feeling threatened, and she sensed it wasn't just her date that was triggering the response.

He handed her a patient file and began to rattle off symptoms and test results. But his angry eyes never left Charles.

"You want to remove the bone flap?"

"And insert a peritoneal shunt," his tone was flat, missing the enthusiasm of the puzzle.

"Permission from the parents?"

"Yep." He popped the "p" for effect.

She gave him back the file. "Do it," she said. "But I want one of your team monitoring her at all times."

"Sounds intense," Charles said lightly, completely unaffected by the daggers House had been tossing his way.

"Doctor stuff," House said. "You won't understand even after you try your hand at it."

Charles laughed. "Ah, but with my doctoring, I don't have to understand to enjoy it."

House blankly stared at Cuddy before turning to leave.

"Is he disappointed or defeated?" Charles asked in a conspiring whisper.

"I'm not sure even he knows the answer to that."

"He's a handful."

"Tell me about it," Cuddy grumbled.

"But hot…in a bad-boy-rip-your-heart-out-with-the-best-orgasm-of-your-life kinda way."

"You have no idea."

Charles laughed. "Honey, I just felt the heat between you two, so I can certainly imagine."

"How could you notice anything beyond the pissing contest?"

"You're kidding right?" he said. "The energy when you two are together takes over the room."

"So, I've been told," she sighed. "But he's proof where there's heat, there's not always fire."

"Don't kid yourself," he said. "That man's a volcano; he's going to blow any day now. And you, girlfriend, are going to have his lava all over you."

"You're disgusting." But she chuckled, albeit with more excitement than she should feel.

"And you adore me."

"Yes, I do," she said, reaching across the table to take his hand.

"That gift of intuitive insight and observation you told me about? It goes right out the window when there's a threat of losing you."

"He doesn't have me."

"Oh, yes he does," Charles laughed. "You're stuck in a perpetual House purgatory."

"Waiting to see if I'll end up in Heaven or Hell?"

"Either one would be pretty great, though, huh?"

"Oh, God," Cuddy groaned, and buried her face in her hands.

"Look on the bright side, sweetie," he said. "These little moves he's making, as frustrating and vague as they seem, are a proclamation of intent."

"His intent to drive me crazy?

Charles grinned. "His intent to break those chains and find the freedom to get his girl!" he said dramatically.

"You're and idiot," she said with a hint of sadness. "And I'm pathetic."

"You are!" Charles exclaimed. "But then, look at me! Sucking up to my client-friend in the hope she'll finally introduce me to a certain cute oncologist."

Cuddy laughed. "It's hopeless," she said. "Wilson isn't gay."

Charles grinned lecherously. "You're sure about that?"

TBC...