Part II

Disclaimer: I don't own House MD or the characters.

A/N: Thanks for the reviews folks. So I'll continue with a few more drabbles. This one is from Cuddy's POV and I switched to the second person, hope it doesn't bother anyone. It just sounded better that way. The trying bit is about a baby and the other pain is ofcourse the pain in the arse--GregoryHouse.

Bare and alone you feel hollow standing before your bathtub on the cool tile floor. Your mind has been buzzing all day and now that you're home alone, with no distractions you head is vacant, silent as an empty cave.

Deep within you, you know that this is just the calm before the storm. All your emotions have been smothered, neatly tucked away, so as not to disturb the Dean of Medicine.

Thundering like a waterfall the hot water tumbles into the porcelain. Your skin tingles at the heat of the steam billowing from the water. Without thinking you step quickly into the tub, and almost jump out a few moments later as the heat burns your feet. Mind over matter, you slowly retreat, sitting on the edge and propping your feet up on the other side.

Mind blank, the shock of the not quite boiling water still hasn't brought you to your senses. The scalding water is calming compared to the hurt and turmoil deep in your heart from this afternoon. Mindlessly you let your feet drop once again into the searing water. And it takes less time for the numbing heat to become sharp and stabbing. The pain feels good, but you retract your feet. Over and over again you repeat this ritual: cold hard porcelain; painful scalding water; clean, white, fragile and firm; swirling, fluent, erratic and volatile. This ritual is your life. You are strong, but there's pain: startling and unpredictable. Your weary body yearns for the warmth of the water; your mind understands the impending pain.

Leaning over enveloped in the oppressive steam, the faucets squeaks as you turn the water off. The waterfall slows to a trickle, and the roar of rushing water is dulled to the plop plink of stray droplets. In one movement you lower your body down into the blistering water. Numbness, then pain; your body tingles, alive. Blood courses through your veins, pounding at your temples and racing up to the surface of your skin as every part submerged in the water grows pink, then red.

Breathe in, exhale. Shifting left, water swooshes around your figure. Shift again, your chin now resting on the tops of your hands you sigh. The heat from the water begins to affect you greatly, your heart is racing. The blood and your pounding heart pump emotions from your depths to the surface and you break. Tears flow freely down your face. Saline falls silently into the pool of water around you.

The heat makes you feel alive and real. It awakens your senses and helps you process your pain. So much hurt and ache you know if it could your heart would break. Yet, it remains in your chest, unbelievably whole.

You gasp again, stifling the lingering sobs that threaten to overtake you. One more deep breath and you drop your face into the now tepid water. You open your eyes and slowly let the bubbles issue from your lips. After each one you ponder, what it would mean for that one to be your last, if you just didn't raise your tired head when the air was exhaled. And your thoughts become hazy and a pleasant sleepiness descends upon you.

Your heart aches and you turn onto your back, breathless as the cool air hits your face. The water rushes over you and fills your ears. You can hear wonderful things underwater. The sound is distorted and this has always fascinated you. A small amount of pleasure is stirred in you before the twinge in your chest brings you back.

Aside from these small and rarely noticed moments like the sound of rushing water, pain is the only thing that lets you know you are still alive. Without it you fear you would be as cold and lifeless as the porcelain beneath you. Stiffening your upper lip, to prevent it from quivering with the fresh tears spilling down your cheeks, you decide you must keep trying. Even if failure brings pain; the ache, the loss of not even hoping is somehow worse.

Some days you light the candles and pour scented bubble bath into the tub as you attempt to melt the stress of the day away. Today you soaked in your pain, the squeaky clean of your porcelain skin had become too much. You needed to feel alive. You craved the raw sensation, the honesty of hot water, the pleasure in the pain.