Ya'll are all very inquisitive and I'm glad. Your questions will be answered as the story continues, I promise. Thanks so much for all of the reviews and favorites and alerts, it's extremely encouraging! Here's the next chapter.
"You son of a bitch." She growled, looking around to make sure there were no eyes on them, although by this point it was obvious to the world that House was indeed, not dead.
"Come with me."
House rubbed at his cheek for a moment before following her out of the building and into the dark parking lot of the temple. He watched as she stopped walking, whipping around to face him before hitting him in the chest.
"You faked your own fucking death. I mourned you, and you weren't even fucking dead. You didn't deserve my mourning, yet I still found myself crying over you because we never got a chance to say goodbye, or to even attempt to fix anything that happened between us. You rammed your car through my fucking dining room, and yet when Wilson called me to tell me that you had died, I snapped. Because regardless of what you do, you always get what you least deserve from me."
He stood there shocked at her confession, honestly expecting anything but what he was currently getting from her.
"I hate you so much, for everything you did to me. You made me pick up and leave everything I knew behind. You made me have to explain to my daughter that we wouldn't be able to go back home, to the only home she knew, yet still, I find myself caring about you. You're like a stain that I can't get rid of, no matter hard I scrub at the fabric." Her voice cracked, and he could see the tears beginning to overflow her eyelids.
House watched as she fell apart before his very eyes, sitting down on the ground, her head in her hands.
He wanted to reach out to her, he wanted to hold her, feel her beside him again, but he wasn't sure that his embrace would be well received. So he did what he knew how to do best, and watched from a distance.
"I'm sorry." He said softly.
He heard her scoff before she looked up from the ground.
"Damn right you're sorry. Do you have any clue how much I hate you right now? How much I hate myself for breaking down like this?"
"I'm sorry." He repeated, unable to think of anything else to say.
"Sorry doesn't cut it." She snapped, standing and brushing herself off before heading towards her car.
"Cuddy." He said softly, following after her. He watched as she turned to face him, tears still running down her face. "I really am sorry."
"Fuck you."
She was honestly surprised when he had not followed after her. She had expected him to; a part of her had wanted him to. She got into the car and drove until she found an empty parking lot. She pulled into the lot and turned on the radio only to hear the sounds of Bruce Springsteen's 'Thunder Road' fill the air.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me."
She pounded her fist against the steering wheel before breaking down into a fit of tears. Of all songs to be playing, it had to be the one that played as she and House had driven down to the beach for the first time as a couple. They spent most of the weekend in their hotel room until she had convinced House to go out into the water with her. They'd gone out into the water and the tide had knocked him over and she had laughed so hard there had been tears streaming down her face. He had pulled her down into the water with him to get his own sort of amusement and she had screamed as he held her against him, the water pushing them closer to the shore. Later on they had watched the sun set together, his arms around her waist and her head against his chest as they sat in the sand together. It had honestly been one of the best weekends she had ever spent with a significant other.
Now here she was almost four years later sitting in her car, in an empty parking lot, crying over the same man who had given her some of the best times of her life. As trying and difficult as her relationship had been with House, she had never been able to picture her life without him as a part of it, no matter the state of their relationship. No matter what happened between them, there would always be a part of her that wanted him in her life. Two years had passed since she had last seen him, and seeing him again had brought back all of the feelings she had tried to keep repressed in the recesses of her mind. All of the love and hatred had simultaneously crashed into her head on; much like his car had crashed into her home.
He had crashed his car into her home, and yet here she was still finding herself loving the man. Clearly, she was just as fucked up as he was. It seemed that no matter what he did to her, she would never be able to stop loving him and she hated herself for it. It wasn't normal for her to be so attached to someone, no matter the extent of their history. It was not healthy for her to be so attached to a man who was simultaneously the best and worst thing to ever happen to her.
She had tried to forget him. She had tried to move on, see other men, but none of them had treated her the way House had when they had been together. None of them had challenged her enough; none of them had made her feel as important as House had. He had ruined her.
Being with House had made her feel like she was the most important person in his life, and part of her knew that at that point in time, she had been. He had tried so hard to change for her and in the end she had let him go because of one error that she knew at one point or another he would have committed. She should have known that addicts relapse. She did know that they relapsed but throughout their relationship she had lived under the delusion that he would never relapse and when it happened she had been so disappointed in him and in herself for not being able to see that it was bound to happen.
She sighed, wiping her eyes. She had spent too many nights pondering what would have happened if she had been able to help him, if she hadn't been too scared to continue their relationship; she wasn't going to spend another night doing the same. She took a deep breath before turning the car back on and heading towards her hotel. She had Wilson's burial in the morning and afterwards she had a meeting with his lawyer because apparently he had left something to her in his will.
Cuddy pulled up to the front of the hotel and gave the valet her keys before heading inside.
She entered her hotel room and slipped out of her heels before changing out of her clothes and into her pajamas.
Grabbing her cellphone she decided to call her mother, knowing that even though it was past ten that Rachel would still be up, especially considering her mother's leniency when it came to her.
"Why are you calling me at this time of night? Didn't I teach you to never call someone after ten?" Her mother barked into the phone, causing her to roll her eyes.
"You and I both know that you don't go to sleep until after you've watched Craig Ferguson, and that's at almost two in the morning. Can you just put Rachel on?" Cuddy replied.
"Hold on."
She listened as her mother told Rachel to stop playing with the dog before hearing the phone shift.
"Hi momma!"
"Hey honey…Are you being good for grandma?"
"Ya! When are you coming back? Did you tell Uncle Wilson goodbye from me?"
"I'll be home in a few days, and I told him." Her voice cracked as she lied about the last part. She hadn't exactly gotten the proper chance to say her goodbyes since the moment she had spotted House she had charged at him. She would say her goodbyes and Rachel's after the burial.
"Tell me about your day." She continued.
She listened intently as the five year old excitedly described her day, bringing a genuine smile to her face while managing to keep her mind of off current things.
"You're a little shit, do you know that?"
He was sitting beside Wilson's casket, looking into it. He had opened it when the room finished clearing out and the Synagogue was empty. He was sure he was alone. He'd been sitting there for almost an hour, just talking as if Wilson was actually able to listen.
"You were not supposed to die before me. I was supposed to die first. Then Cuddy, then you because you are…" He swallowed hard before correcting himself. "were the most functional out of the three of us. You were the one who could make it on your own. You would have found another wife, or another friend, or something. You would have been okay without me. You would have still had Cuddy. I mean, you were okay without me when I was in prison and I'm assuming it's because you kept your weekly lunches with her. Don't think I didn't notice that you still disappeared on Tuesdays even after I came back. Clearly you were being the saint that you were and making sure she was okay…I'm sorry by the way…for driving her out of your life when I drove her out of mine…Your friendship with her was stronger than ours was anyway, but I guess that's because it revolved around taking care of me…You two did a good job at that by the way….at taking care of me…until you know, I fucked things up for all of us…I'm sorry, again…For breaking your wrist…putting a strain on your only healthy friendship…Being such a selfish jackass..."
He could feel his eyes begin to burn with the sting of tears and he couldn't be bothered to wipe them away.
"Fuck, why did you have to get cancer? If there is a god, he is one sick motherfucker because the irony of an oncologist dying of cancer is disgusting. If he wanted to kill someone and be ironic about it my kidneys should have failed long ago and I wouldn't be in this situation. I wouldn't have to be sitting here next to the body of the only person who actually gave a flying fuck about me. You would have been okay if I had died first. Fuck, Wilson."
House held his head in his hands as he broke down. He hadn't had an emotional breakdown since the night in which Cuddy had broken up with him. He let out an angry scoff. It always seemed like those who he loved most where the ones who had fucked him over the most.
Wilson was dead and Cuddy was gone for good.
Cuddy.
He hated to admit that over the years he had missed her. How could he not have missed her when he had worked alongside her for over fifteen years? How could he not miss her after he had shared his bed with her for almost year?
When he had been in prison he had spent majority of his sleepless nights thinking about what could have happened between them if he hadn't been reckless. Maybe if he hadn't done what he had, they would have been able to fall for each other once more or at least make their way back to where they had been before; after all that was what he had told himself he wanted at the time.
But that wasn't what he had really wanted. What he had wanted was for her to give him another chance, to be able to show her that he was the right one for her. He made one error, an error made out of the fear of losing her, and she let him go. She let go of everything they had had, their years of history, without looking back. It killed him. To this day, it still killed him that she could do that to him after everything they had been through.
For years she had been his constant saviour, always there to make sure that he would be okay; until the one night when she had chosen herself over him and it had torn him apart.
If there was one thing he could change in his life, it would have been taking the pill which ended in the ultimate demise of his relationship with Cuddy.
