DISCLAIMER: SO not Shore. I don't own anything related to Fox or the TV show House. I'm only borrowing some characters. The characters belong to David Shore and company.

I ask everyone to please take a moment of silence and pray for the soul of one of our most talented House/Cuddy fanfiction writers, Andressa Matos aka Andie. This most unfortunate news hailed from Miss Cuddles, Andie's great friend. Andie passed away on March 30th from a heart attack and was buried on March 31st at Jardim Metropolitano in Fortaleza, Brasil. We may not have been very close, but I have had the privilege of reading her downright touching, exemplary and amazing writing, and I've had exchanged messages with her in the past. She was a very nice, very humble person, and truly one of a kind. Andie, you will always be remembered by everyone whose lives you have touched with your kindness and your writing.
May you rest in peace, love! See you on the other side...

A/N: This one's for you, Andie...
Special thanks to my darling Penny S. Cartwright for betaing this chapter like a bullet...

And to everyone who have read, thank you so, so much for the AMAZING feedback! It means a lot to me. :)

Mkay, it's 4:30 AM... I have got to stop editing this and proceed with the updating part. ;) Hope you guys like it!

Enjoy!

BROKEN STRINGS

II

.

Rachel and House were silent for a while after he finished telling her the story of The Three Little Pigs. During his story telling, Rachel had listened attentively, actively participating in the animated gestures House allowed himself to make. House let out a small smile when Rachel sincerely thanked him for her bedtime story. She had visibly enjoyed herself. And it made something inside him bloom.

A moment later, Rachel got bored with the silence and suddenly smiled, an idea popping into her mind. "Play?" she piped up, a grin on her lips. Games with House were always fun.

That suggestion made House smirk. He shook his head, immediately making Rachel frown in disappointment. "Bed," House said, patting his mattress. "It's late, your mother will kill me. I'd love to annoy her but I don't see any point in doing that, now. Besides, I'm tired." He was talking to a kid who barely understood what he was saying. His face scrunched up; he'd gone sappy. His eyes darted to the giggling toddler wrapped up in his duvet.

Damn it, he was going to miss the little bugger. If his and Cuddy's relationship had ended a couple months ago instead, Rachel would probably have been the last thing he'd acknowledge he'd miss.

House closed his eyes, shutting them tightly.

How could he have messed things up beyond repair?

He was broken from his reverie when he felt the bed dip slightly and arms wrapped up and around his neck. He opened his eyes to Rachel's sympathetic bright blue eyes resting on his.

"Hows sad?" she asked him, sad seeing him frown.

Just like the day he unintentionally bonded with her, he awkwardly wrapped one arm around her tiny body and sighed.

"Yes, Rachel."

"I make better!" Rachel announced, pulling from their embrace and standing on her feet on the bed. She tilted her head to the side with a lopsided grin on her lips when she saw House's face scrunch up in confusion. The lines in the man's face deepened as she smacked both his cheeks with her tiny palms before kissing him on each cheek with sloppy butterfly kisses. Rachel laughed in delight as the man grimaced in disgust, though his eyes held in them a small sparkle of amusement.

"Better?" Rachel asked, remembering when Mama had done it when she got hurt at the park. Her eyes widened and she waited with bated breath for his response.

House smirked down at her once he got over the initial shock and confusion. Rachel put her hands on her hips.

"Much," House sarcastically replied though Rachel didn't understand the sarcasm. She just smiled and dropped back down to her knees again and embraced him.

"Night, Hows," she mumbled in a yawn. He knew she was finally realizing how sleepy she was.

"Good night, Rachel," House replied, allowing himself the chance to hold and hug her for what would be the last time. He helped Rachel under the sheets. He found it ironic; the first time he tucked her in, he wished wasn't the last opportunity he had. He couldn't believe it himself; he wasn't opposed to the thought of tucking her in more. He should have been.

He was about to stand and have the inevitable talk with the sprog's mother, but he was stopped, frozen in his place as Rachel sleepily murmured, "Lob you, Hows…"

Did he love her? Probably not, but he definitely did not hate her. He did like her though. Was that liking closely leaning towards loving Cuddy's daughter? Under the current circumstances, he absolutely hoped not. He hardly knew how to handle the breakup as it was. Thinking greatly of losing Rachel too would complicate things even further.

Something inside the man cowered at the toddler's words.

He was afraid to hurt her. And he would, the morning Rachel would have to leave whether she liked it or not. He was certain that Cuddy would keep her away from him from then on, because Rachel was already too attached to him. A few seconds of staring into those innocent blue eyes, House found himself doing something he never thought he'd do in his lifetime.

He bent forward and pressed a quick kiss on Rachel's forehead, mumbling, "I'm sorry."

He really was. Sorry for hurting her mother, hurting her for what was going to happen a few hours later. He was sorry for screwing things up although he knew he had that coming. He didn't really know he'd lose so, so much until he did.

Sometimes he wondered if things would have been better if he had just allowed Cuddy to walk away that afternoon after the night they got together. But he knew, somewhere deep down, he wouldn't have experienced happiness if he hadn't tried. He didn't regret being with Cuddy. He would never regret it. He would only regret not having tried hard enough to be what she needed. He'd always think, "What if…?"

He had known that she would be the one to break things off. He knew that one day she'd realize that the man she was sleeping next to was nothing but a burden to her life. That he would never be able to step up to the plate and be there for her when things got rough.

He'd only proven her right. So… after months of being in love with her, she broke things off, leaving him hurting… and still in love with her, and now, almost certainly fond of her daughter as well.

The past few weeks had been more painful than the pain he felt in his leg.

There had been nights after she broke up with him and after the booze and hooker binge that he tried to convince himself that it was definitely for the best. That he wouldn't be dragging her down anymore. He tried to make himself believe that it was better since he wouldn't have to do his damnedest to try and be what she wanted him to be every time she thought he should be this or that guy. That he wouldn't have to try hard anymore to meet her high expectations of him when she herself told him that she didn't want him to change.

She knew he was and would always be screwed up. He couldn't understand why, just a few months after they got together, she wanted him to practically change himself for her.

He did what she wanted anyway, because he loved her that much.

Look where that got him.

House sighed.

He tucked Rachel a little more securely under his sheets before standing up. Those little blue eyes followed him until he reached the door to his bedroom. Rachel stared at him for a while before giving him a small smile and closing her eyes, succumbing to sleep's call.

"You're good with her," Cuddy acknowledged when she saw House exit his bedroom, looking up at him from her spot on the floor of his hallway. She could see the exhaustion in his eyes; it practically mirrored her own.

"Yeah, well, I don't see why that matters now," House bitterly replied in a low growl. He made sure to keep his distance from her as she stood to her feet. "Take the couch. I'll get you a pillow and a blanket."

"House—"he heard her footsteps draw closer to him, and his jaw clenched.

"Don't. Whatever it is, Cuddy, I don't want to hear it." He felt her hand trying to turn him. He reluctantly allowed her to, but as he did, his head hung low. He couldn't look at her.

Tentatively, Cuddy lifted her arm and cradled his jaw in her hand. Her eyes narrowed in concern as she felt the hotness of his skin, "You have a fever…"she noted with a frown.

"You don't have to worry about Rachel getting sick," he cut her off quickly, pulling himself away from her touch, taking a step back.

She was not worried about Rachel at that moment. She was genuinely worried about him. Her brows furrowed as she watched him shake his head.

"You know how to find things if you want to get ready for bed," he said, his back facing her as he went in search of a clean pillow and an afghan she could use.

Cuddy watched him walk away from her. His limp was more pronounced and a pang of guilt shot through her. She stood there watching him until he disappeared into his bedroom. She let out a heavy sigh before walking towards his bathroom, closing the door behind her. Her eyes took in the menacing presence of an all too familiar orange pill bottle and her stomach churned.

Was he still taking them? Was he really throwing away everything he had worked hard for?

She hated herself as the answers to those questions hit her like a sucker punch, leaving her out of breath. He'd call her a narcissist for thinking so, but she knew this relapse was her fault. He'd taken but one pill, and she'd cut him off, just like that. Now, he was probably popping them into his mouth like candy again. As if he hadn't experienced his all too many downfalls because of those opiates. As if he hadn't almost lost his mind—everything he had. As if he had no reason to stay sober anymore.

She had heard from his team about his surprising lack of reaction to solving a difficult case, not even boasting about being right again. Didn't cases fulfill him anymore?

Her eyes watered as she was reminded of the night he came to her, drunk and wet from the rain. He'd chosen to drink instead of being present for an award for her and drink there. He'd told her he'd always choose her—because she was worth it, he'd said.

Was she really?

She bit her lip to keep from crying. She wasn't the only one who had sacrificed things to try and make a relationship with him work. She never acknowledged what he'd been sacrificing. She knew that he had always been worried that he'd do something wrong that would wake her up and make her break up with him. So he did everything he could.

But she didn't even acknowledge that he tried, so hard.

Cuddy shook her head. She'd made her bed, now she had to lie on it. She couldn't make herself believe he'd change. She was wrong to tell him she didn't want him to, because the entire time she spent with him, it was all she ever did, even if she'd done it unconsciously. It was her fault, not his.

He wasn't the only one who screwed up. If she were being honest with herself, she'd acknowledge that she was the one who screwed things up more. But she didn't want to dwell on that. She just wanted this night to be over and done with. She wanted to be away from any proximity to him—it only reminded her of how much she still loved and missed him.

It only reminded her of how much she actually messed things up for them.

Cuddy exited the bathroom some minutes after she was able to compose herself. She ran into House as he exited his bedroom, two pillows and a blanket in his arms.

She met his eyes for a while. She could see how tired he was. She hated herself for having him play house in the ruins of their broken relationship.

"How's Rachel?" she found herself asking. It was surprising how her daughter hadn't even asked for her.

"Asleep."

"Where will you sleep?"

"Let me worry about that," he answered gruffly, thinking that she was only concerned that Rachel might get sick too.

"I'm worried about you, too," Cuddy told him, as if reading his mind. "You're sick and your leg—"

"You should have thought about that the night you left me with a bottle of opiates in my possession," was the only sharp reply she got before he limped towards his couch, dropping the pillows and blanket on top of it. He turned and made his way back to his room but before he could enter, she held his elbow gently.

"Are you still taking Vicodin?" she couldn't help but ask. She had to know. If he was, why was he still in so much pain?

"Yes." No.

Her face fell but she was quick to hide her emotions. "Why?"

"Don't bring her here again. If you can't control your daughter then you're not fit to be her mother."

She knew he was deflecting. She knew he was just trying to poke a sharp stick at her. At one time, she would have slapped him. This time, she didn't.

"Why are you still taking Vicodin?" she prodded, her face stoic.

Their eyes met again, and she ached at the vulnerability she saw in those uniquely beautiful blue eyes.

"Everything hurts." I don't want to go back there.

House walked away, entering his bedroom and closing the door behind him.

Cuddy stared at his door blankly.

"Good night, House."

She received no reply.

So early in the morning did Lisa Cuddy feel her heart swelling with so many emotions as she stood leaning against her ex-boyfriend's bedroom door.

The sight before her was one she wished that she'd seen under different circumstances—circumstances wherein she and House were still together.

A sad smile crept onto her lips as she watched her daughter sleep on top of House, occupying the space from the crook of his chest to his lower belly. House's left arm was protectively cradling Rachel's body, anchoring her to him, a hand on her toddler's diaper and pajama-clad bottom.

The two children, the real one and the man-child, were sleeping on the floor. Her eyes moved to spot the wrinkled space in the middle of House's bed and Cuddy instantly frowned. House didn't sleep in it. He had let Rachel sleep in his bed and he chose to sleep on the floor since she had his couch.

He chose to sleep on the floor despite the discomfort it would undoubtedly cause his leg, just to acknowledge her unsaid worry about Rachel getting sick as well. He knew even if she didn't admit that she was just as concerned about Rachel as she was about him. She knew that he knew he didn't have to listen to her because, for one, it was his apartment and his bed. She had expected him to lash out at her and defy her as much as he could.

He didn't. He did what he thought would be best for Rachel, notwithstanding his own comfort and his leg's pain.

Seeing him sleeping on the floor, his head and leg each proper with a pillow made her feel guiltier. She asked herself whether she ever thought of his needs when they were together. Did she think of his feelings? She knew she'd been wrong in telling him she didn't want him to change. It was hypocritical of her because ever since they got together, almost all their issues have mostly been petty. In a way, she'd been right about some of those issues, but in the grand scheme of things, all her issues against him or his actions weren't that important, honestly.

Her eyes were possessed by the scene before her until her eyes moved to Rachel as her daughter opened those beautiful blue eyes of hers and met her gaze. Rachel didn't pay her much attention though. Her daughter just stared at her for a moment before her eyes fluttered closed again and she buried her face as deep as she could into House's chest.

All Cuddy wanted was to do the same, and enjoy a weekend off with them.

But things and circumstances have changed, and she couldn't even if she wanted to. She had to restrain her innermost urges.

Cuddy dug into her pocket and retrieved her Blackberry. She captured a picture of the two wanting to at least have that moment with her to remind her of some of the many endearing qualities she knew House had, even if it took time to rise to the surface.

They looked so peaceful, but she knew she couldn't let Rachel get used to his presence anymore. She knew she had to keep her daughter from seeing him. It hurt to think that she had to make her child forget him. She knew she was only protecting her daughter. It didn't mean she had to feel good about it, or like it.

Even if he didn't say anything last night, she knew she couldn't put House through this again either. He'd already formed a bond with Rachel. She knew he wasn't heartless. She knew he'd try to hide what he was really feeling. She couldn't ask him to play house again. No matter how hard he tried to conceal the fact that he was affected by losing Rachel as well, Cuddy could, painfully, see right through it.

She walked as silently as she could towards the bed, grabbing a blanket and covering them with it.

She took one more glance at the two people she loved most in the world before she turned and made her way to the kitchen, thinking of something to make him before she left with Rachel. It was the least she could do.

A/N: Moar? :) Please drop a review and lemme know what you think! :)

Thank you for reading!