Thanks so much to every one of you who kindly left me a review, or sent me a PM to share their thoughts about that first chapter. It touched me a lot. You really are the best reward an author can wish for!

Thank you to those of you who already favorited this story, started following it, or put me on author's alert. I can't tell you how good it feels to be back, after such a long time, and see that you are still around, caring a little about my fictional wild imaginings. I may not know all of you, but you all feel so familiar, in a way. So thank you for being here!

Now, on to chapter 2! As promised, from then on, it'll be House/Cuddy all the way! :D

** REDEEM ME **

Chapter 2

House was seated on the floor of his living room, his back against his leather couch, surrounded by all kinds of random things and a couple of open cardboard boxes. He wasn't getting rid of his apartment, so that was not like he had to clean everything up but there still was a lot to deal with. He needed to sort his stuff out by category before selecting what he'd need to bring with him once he'd move in with Wilson. He'd gathered so many things during the years while he'd lived there. It made him feel a little bit nostalgic.

For example, while fumbling through his medical reviews, he'd found some dusty, old issues of Playboy magazine, piled behind the books on the bottom shelf of his bookcase. And instead of carrying on with his tidying up process, his finding had completely detoured him from his goal as he was currently leafing through one of the reviews, with a childish look of awe on his face.

There was a sudden knock on his door and he cringed, hating to be disturbed during one of those few moments of complete carelessness he could still enjoy in his life. But Wilson had told him he would probably stopped by to give him a hand, so he wasn't going to miss an opportunity to make his friend do all the dirty work while he'd enjoy his boyish souvenirs that easily.

Just as the second knock, more insistent this time, was echoing in the room, he stood up, not without difficulty, as he'd left his cane on the floor beside his piano stool, when he'd played some blues earlier in the evening and had enjoyed a soothing glass of Bourbon. He limped to the door with a wide beam on his face, still holding an issue of Playboy in his hand.

He opened the door, a bit theatrically, and waved the review triumphantly in front of him.

"Hey! Look what I found in the…" he stopped in the middle of his sentence, startled by Cuddy's presence on his doorstep. The men's review was still in his hand and his hand still up in the air but, as if it were suddenly weighing a million tons, he let it fall back down along his thigh, clutching his fingers around the glossy cover of the magazine.

Cuddy bit her lips in embarrassment and looked down to hide her discomfort. But it lasted only half a second and she raised her head up again, with a new-found assertiveness and a defying look, waiting for him to say something first. He tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes, studying her just for an extra few lingering seconds.

"My clinic duty is done. I've completed my hours this afternoon. My patient is diagnosed and now receiving his treatment," he recited conscientiously. "I don't think I owe you one more minute of my skilled time…"

She took a sharp breath and took him off guard by promptly and quite unexpectedly walking past him and stepping inside the apartment.

"I'm not here for work," she said, walking as far away from the door as she could, before he would be able to react.

House, indeed, stayed rooted to his spot and kept looking straight ahead at the now empty hallway, somewhat still dazed. He finally seemed to be jolted awake and turned around to face her. She had taken her coat off and had retreated towards his kitchen's entry, near the sideboard, and was staring at him, in an oddly expecting way.

He sighed at her look of confusion. He was tired and drained by all the games they'd been playing together all this time. He wasn't in the mood to do that anymore. She needed to understand that she couldn't play with him forever like she was. Trying to forget her was already a daily awaken nightmare and just the sight of her right now, in his living room, in his apartment, in the place where she had once been that so unique and irreplaceable woman for him, even just in his head, was only making it more difficult.

"I was leaving," he lied, trying to sound dismissive.

"No, you weren't," she answered without missing a beat, and she quickly scanned the room around her, immediately noticing every pile of books and reviews that were lying there, or had been hastily thrown inside the cardboard boxes. He was nowhere near the moment where he'd be done with this mess. "Wilson said you had to pack some of your stuff."

"Wilson?"

She lowered her gaze again.

"Yes," she mumbled. "I was at your place before."

House was still holding the handle of the open door in his hand and he leaned forwards to glance into the hallway. She saw him and tipped her chin up.

"I'm alone," she said, anticipating his next question.

"And your daughter?"

"With my mom."

"Isn't Lu…"

"He's gone."

"Oh, night shift for ice cream man?"

"I don't know."

"Of course! He doesn't tell you. He's right, it's safer. You don't want to get inv…"

"We broke up," she deadpanned.

House's heart skipped a beat and the sensation felt so violent and raw, he could have sworn it made his chest jump noticeably. He gulped, his throat feeling suddenly completely dry. To keep his cool and hide his stunned face, he turned around slowly and closed the door.

"Ohhh, I see..." he said, trying hard to sound as unimpressed as he could, his voice low and hoarse.

He walked back inside the apartment but chose to go towards the piano, opposite to her. It felt safer to him not to be too close, and besides, he'd suddenly remembered about that glass of bourbon that was still lying on the instrument black glossy surface, still half full. He approached the piano, limping heavily without his cane. Just then, out of nowhere, "Dancing Queen" started resonating into space. House squirmed awkwardly and hastily fished his cell phone out of the front pocket of his jeans.

"Can't talk right now," he grumbled into the receiver and slid the phone shut before placing it back into his pocket.

Cuddy registered the scene, without saying a word and they studied each other from across the room for another while before House leaned against the piano and off-handedly grabbed hold of his glass of Bourbon to drink.

"Can I have one?" she said as soon as she saw him take his first sip.

"What is it? You ran out of booze so you thought you'd come here and borrow one of my bottles? You know, I'm pretty sure you could've found some in a nearer neighborhood if you'd tried harder…"

She sighed loudly and it sounded like a sigh of annoyance. There it was: the tension. Again. Soon she would be upset, for an unknown reason, at least unknown to him, like it seemed to be the case most of the time lately. And she'd yell or throw a scornful comment but he wouldn't understand why. He had tried to understand but the fact was, there wasn't any rational explanation. So, at some point, he'd resigned himself to give up. But now, here, tonight, thoughts were running inside his head like a brimming flow. There were not many ways to get answers. He slowly put the glass down and, from across the room, looked her intensely in the eyes.

"Why exactly are you here, Cuddy?"

Her mouth opened and her lips remained slightly parted but no sound came out. After a long, suspended moment, she shivered and held his gaze.

"I thought about you... I mean me... I mean, what I did to you..."

House arched his eyebrows, intrigued. The atmosphere was heavy and odd and he was starting to feel uncomfortable, barely daring to understand what he thought the reason for her suddenly visiting him might be. It sounded so improbable and even risible that he preferred to hold back his sarcastic comment at first. Cuddy stopped and allowed herself some time to breathe in deeply. She really looked like someone who needed to calm down. It was touching, but preoccupying at the same time. He peered at her even more intensely, starting to fear she might have some reckless reaction and not really knowing if it was going to be the kind he secretly expected from her.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry," she finally said, looking uneasy.

A long silence ensued and he stared at her, puzzled.

"O-kay."

Not a sound was pervading the apartment except for his old antique ticking clock on the sideboard next to her. She took a few steps towards him, her pace slow but steady, her eyes locked with his the entire time. House watched her come close, and held his breath, but didn't say a word. When she finally stood, just in front of him, she put out her hand and gestured towards the glass on the piano.

"You mind?"

He docilely handed the glass to her and their fingers briefly touched when she grabbed it. She tilted her head back, brought the glass to her mouth, and emptied it in one large gulp, wincing as the strong smoky and earthy flavor of the alcohol burnt her throat. Straightening up, she slammed the glass back atop the piano and stared at him defiantly.

"Wow, you can knock it back!" he said teasingly.

"Not more than you do," she replied, tit for tat.

"Maybe, but I'm much bigger than you are."

"I'm fine. It's not my first time drinking alcohol, you know."

"Didn't say it was, but something tells me that's not the first glass you had tonight."

"And so what? Are you going to lecture me about the bad effects of alcohol? I'm a big girl."

"You're going to get drunk," he said, matter-of-factly and then stopped just a few seconds to study her and think. "Wait, is that the plan? You wanna get wasted and forget about your miserable, screwed-up life?"

"I told you, I'm fine," she repeated, sounding slightly annoyed.

"Then what's the plan?" he asked.

She didn't answer but wiggled her shoulders, in a sort of shy but enticing way, and took another step in his direction. House stared at her, with his eyes wide, but remained perfectly still, while inside of him, he could feel the rhythm of his heartbeats dangerously accelerate.

"What's this all about?" he questioned her one last time, feigning not to understand and hoping it would halt her in some way, and allow him some time to regain control over the situation.

She came close enough to touch his body with hers, and stopped. For a fleeting instant, she looked him right in the eyes, challengingly, and then grabbed hold of his arm to steady her while she rose on her tiptoes and stretched her neck to reach for his face. All the air got blocked inside his lungs and he stared back at her, petrified, as her lips came in contact with his mouth. At the burning sensation, House's eyes squeezed shut, almost in spite of him, and Cuddy leisurely brushed the pulp of his lips with hers, tentatively, barely demanding, just relishing the feeling and awaiting a reaction from him.

House didn't want to react, but the battle was already lost before it had even started. His lips parted slowly, the exact signal she was expecting, and she slid her tongue inside his mouth, tasting him. He welcomed it with surprise at first, soon mingled with bliss, and gave up the fight, pushing his tongue forwards to meet hers and enjoying the slightly alcoholic sweetness of her flavor on his taste buds. It felt as if, suddenly, he'd become aware of every artery, vein and vessel inside his body, pumping blood, and injecting life into him again. His hand, dissociated from his brain, yet intensely connected with his brain, slowly slid around her waist and to the small of her back and he pulled her against him. His other hand climbed up her back and he caressed her hair at the base of her nape, delicately. The kiss maybe lasted just a few seconds, even though it felt longer but, at some point, the rational part of his mind shook him back to reality and, as appealing as the idea of surrender was in that moment, he seized Cuddy by the shoulders and found the strength to push her back and break away from their kiss.

She stared at him, taken aback, her lips still parted and glistening from the kiss they'd just shared and he looked back at her, with a resoluteness she refused to comprehend. House was breathless too, that she could see and, to her, he looked just confused, in a touching way, so she shot him a shy smile and leaned forwards to him again, wanting to recreate their previous connection. But House kept her at arm's length, decidedly.

"No thanks," he said, warning her with a somber gaze, "I don't want leftovers."

Cuddy puffed, stunned.

"Right," she however dared to contradict him with every last remnant of pride she could muster. "Like you can pretend you don't want me!"

She held her chin up and almost unconsciously stuck her chest out, her round breasts merging from her cleavage. God! She was so perfectly exquisite. His male instincts were shouting at him to tug her into his arms again and devour her, right now, and all night long, until they would pass out, drown in lust. But no! He couldn't yield now. Not yet. Not before he was sure that it wasn't going to end like it had ended twenty years ago. Not twice. This time, if he allowed her in his territory, if he finally gave up and welcomed her inside his world, it had to be for real. It had to lead somewhere.

"No need to wiggle the girls teasingly in front of my face," he snapped. "I'm not one of those donors you can entice to extort them a big check. I'm not paying for the show. You don't give me enough money anyway to make it worth wasting any of it on this!"

Cuddy gulped and stomached his barb bravely. She closed her eyes briefly and sighed. House had taken a step away from her and he was watching her, scrutinizing her reaction, testing her.

"You know Cuddy, it may not seem obvious to you, but I'm not a disposable male hooker you can claim whenever you think you're in the mood."

Cuddy stood mouth agape and stared at him, awestruck.

"But if you need some phone numbers," he continued, oblivious to her reaction, "I can fix that for you. I know a girl, several girls actually, who surely know a guy that'd be happy to take care of your hormonal problem. I hope you're carrying some cash though coz…"

SLAP!

Her hand had waved in the air and violently hit his cheek before he could even see it coming. He rested the palm of his hand on the side of his face, and she covered her mouth with her hand, instantly taking a step back, shocked by her own reaction. He smiled bitterly and rubbed his jaw, while she started shivering.

"So now you're going physical? That's your next plan?" he said sourly. "Nice! ... I should have remembered you can be a real bitch sometimes."

Her lips started to tremble and tears welled up in her eyes. She stared at him, with immense hurt, before turning around. He didn't know if she wanted to leave but he didn't let her go anywhere. He grabbed her by the arm and stopped her before she could step away from him.

"You won't get anything from me like that, Cuddy," he said, leaning down to her face and staring her right in the eyes. "If you're here for something, just say it."

A/N

I hope you still like this story. I'm gonna have a busy day tomorrow so I don't know if I'll have time to post but, if I can't I promise it'll be up on Friday!

Meanwhile, I wanna hear from youuuuuuu and you, and you, and YOU! D

Have a nice day, thank you for reading! ~ maya