A/N- Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Disclaimer-I don't own the characters of House MD

(Rev 03/17/12)

House woke in the morning as he did every morning, gripping and rubbing his thigh until he could swing his leg out of the bed and walk some of the stiffness out of it. He emerged from the bathroom, limping through his room and into the kitchen for coffee. Just as the night's events came back to him, he saw movement from the sofa as Cuddy stretched her legs and tugged the blanket up around her shoulders. House scratched his head, fighting the impulse to run out the door before she woke. He clenched his jaw and sat at the kitchen table with his coffee and a medical journal that he leafed through, but couldn't seem to successfully read.

Cuddy's eyes opened and the first thing she saw was the back of the sofa. She sat up, running her fingers quickly through her hair and remembering the events of the last evening. She looked out into the kitchen and saw House leaning over the table, his head propped up by a hand on his forehead as he read. His new home was nothing like Cuddy had expected, a pleasant single family suburban home well-furnished and exceptionally clean, the place looked more like the home of an ordinary suburban couple than any place House would call home. When she had agreed to come, she expected a tiny, dingy two bedroom apartment littered with ash trays and books. There were books and journals, lining shelves all around the living room, which looked more like a library than any living room she had ever seen; books, and a gigantic TV she felt certain belonged to House. She slipped quietly into the bathroom he had shown her the night before and walked out to the kitchen, thoroughly regretting that she had agreed to stay. "Morning," he said with mock cheerfulness, "coffee's over there."

He pointed over to the coffee pot, finally looking up from his journal and smirking slightly as he saw the mass of hair scattered around her head. "Shut up," she groaned as she walked toward the coffee pot.

A woman emerged from the other bedroom and stood in front of House, hands on her hips, "Where the fuck is she?"

He continued to stare at his reading, "Oh goodie! I was beginning to worry I'd go an entire week without one of our scintillating conversations. In case you forgot from our last discussion, a conversation is wh…"

"Shut up House!" the young woman barked with great irritation, "I don't feel like talking to you either, you miserable prick, where's Kate?"

"I'm going to have to talk that girl, she just completely forgot to tell daddy where she was going again," he said in an obviously patronizing tone.

She looked at Cuddy, "and who the fuck is that?"

Cuddy looked around, suddenly feeling as if she were in the middle of a situation she didn't want to be anywhere near. "Kate and I hired her last night for…" he stopped, pleased that he'd evoked Cuddy's trademark 'House-you-had-better-shut-up-or-else' look despite her depressed state.

He wore a proud grin and continued, "She's a friend of mine, so…since Kate clearly isn't here, don't feel you need to stay on my account."

The woman grumbled out of the room, gathering her belongings and heading out the door. Cuddy dropped into a chair at the table with her coffee, waiting for an explanation from House that wasn't forthcoming. Moments later, a woman in a nice business suit pushed through the front door, kicking off her shoes, "Rough day at the office, honey?" House called to her.

Cuddy could barely believe her eyes when she realized this sophisticated, professional woman was House's roommate. The woman tossed a pile of yellow envelopes down onto the table, "Take a peak would ya?" she asked House, distracted by looting the refrigerator.

She walked over to the table, sitting between House and Cuddy, waiting while House opened the folders and looked through various scans and paperwork. "You missed your little friend by a few minutes, she was slightly irritated by the not-hereness of you this morning," House said to Kate as he held an MRI image up to the light above the table. He stopped reviewing the image and looked at her directly, "Why is it that you get all of the sex, and I get all of the morning-after awkwardness?"

"I guess I'm smarter then you," Kate retorted, "Anyway, there wasn't sex last night, I got called in on my way home. She must have let herself in again. We have got to change the code!"

"You're a doctor?" Cuddy asked suspiciously.

"Penn," she answered, "Psych."

"You don't really have emergencies in Psych," House chided.

"What do you see…the brain scan?" Kate asked.

"Isn't it funny," he said scoffing, "that there are three people at this table, two of them have licenses but aren't real doctors and one is a real doctor without a license?"

Cuddy and Kate simultaneously rolled their eyes in annoyance. "I see…nothing" he answered, handing the series of scans to Cuddy.

After a few moments, Cuddy shrugged and handed the scans back to Kate, "Nothing here."

"This guy killed his family. Claims there was a brain tumor, which caused psychosis, and personality changes. Our scans from last night…no tumors, at all, but the one his neurologist sent…from a month ago, well, let's just say you wouldn't have to look hard. Just wanted to know if you saw any anomalies I may have missed. I'm tired…I'm going to bed," Kate stood from the table and went to her bedroom.

"She doesn't even look like the same person," Cuddy observed.

"I know, I tried to convince her to wear her Cuddy-clothes when not working and her bar-clothes at the hospital but she's not buying it."

"Not many doctors own bars…" Cuddy continued.

"Family thing, it was her father's"

"You met at the bar?"

"I work with her, at Penn"

"YOU work at the psych ward at a teaching hospital? Who does their hiring?" she asked dryly.

House flickered a smile at her questions, "No. Please! Who in the hell would hire me for that?"

"Who would hire you at all," Cuddy said with a clearly self-deprecating tone.

"I decided research was the way to go. Under the terms of my parole I had to live in Jersey...so I got approval to live here and take a drive across the river for work purposes. I met Kate there, she was a convenient way out of the shitty apartment I was living in when I first got here...almost two years ago. Parole's been up for a while, but…I'm comfortable here. How about you?"

Cuddy hesitated before answering so House continued, "So you aren't afraid to be locked alone with me in a bar, or come back to my place at 3am, but you are afraid to tell me where you are working, OK…"

"No, it isn't that. I'm just preparing myself for what you are going to say."

"If you became an exotic dancer, I'll drop everything and move closer."

She half chuckled at his traditional objectifying flattery. "I'm not a dancer, exotic or otherwise," she quickly denied, "After…everything happened in Princeton…I sold my home and decided I was done with the high powered, high stress lifestyle and I needed a change. I figured I could spend more time with…Rachel, and try to just get rid of all of the complications. I moved to Baltimore to work in a small clinic."

"You quit being the Dean of Medicine…to do clinic hours, voluntarily, all day, every day?" House asked in a tone that suggested her new job was a fate worse than death.

"Well…there were regular hours, few responsibilities outside of the work day, and I actually quit to get far away from you…I couldn't look at anything at that hospital without having some memory of you attached to it."

"OK," he acknowledged.

"There's more…" she said, taking a deep breath and saying as quickly as she could, "I soon realized they were poorly managed, and started to look at all of the problems that plagued the place. I made some suggestions and within three months I was running the clinic and I was asked to consolidate and run two sister clinics."

House looked at her with a hint of admiration that he tried to promptly cover with a forced look of disgust, "So you finally shook the administrative skin and then decided you couldn't live without it?"

She smiled, tight lipped, and nodded, "I know, go ahead do your worst, I'm ready for the string of insults."

"No…Cuddy, that's…honestly impressive, you just can't shake your inner control-freak!"

"I can't," she agreed. "I can't believe you aren't going to treat me to a barrage of administrator jokes that you've had stored all of these years? I guess they're rusty."

"No…I use them on Kate, with slight alterations as situationally appropriate to keep my skills honed," he said, using the tone of an expert discussing his craft, "I just feel that if you are anticipating them, some of the spontaneity will be compromised, so I'll have to wait until your defenses are lowered."

"You're an ass," she stated.

"Agreed."

Her expression changed quickly, "I'm heading to the Outer Banks. Two weeks. A friend gave me the key to her place, so I could try to…get away…sort of…reset my brain a bit. Do you…want to come?"

"You're suggesting a vacation? With me?"

"I've handled you for years House. I can deal with you."

"Umm…last I recall you handled me by running away."

"I ran from you one damn time, after the hundreds of times you ran out on me! Let's not sugar coat it, you didn't slash my tires or sabotage my office…You could have killed me."

"No, you ran from me on more than one occasion. And I wasn't trying to kill you. I'm…I apologize for my behavior after you dumped me for one fucking slip-up. Is that what you want?"

"It wasn't 'one' slip-up! And afterwards, you were spiraling downward at an alarming rate."

"What did you expect from me? You know me, probably as well as anyone, maybe better. Did you think I'd sulk and rip up some pictures and be fine? You and I were in the making for over twenty years, finally gave things a try and you dropped me out in the cold over what was really nothing."

"I don't think relapse is 'nothing'! You've always made an art form out of trying to hurt me, and succeeding. Your wedding day was one of the worst days of my life."

"You knew what that was. You knew it wasn't emotionally relevant."

"It was to me!"

"You knew damn well that she didn't mean anything to me. I know I spiraled, I could blame my monumental relapse but the truth is you hurt me Cuddy. Worse than anyone ever has, and what made it worse was that I really trusted you. I had just resigned myself to the fact that I wouldn't give you up for anything, and you gave up on me."

"I had to end it. I had other people to think about besides myself."

"I never would have hurt Rachel."

"You did a lot of things I thought you'd never do."

His look was firm as he said, "I know."

"Where is your wife?"

"She dumped me. Shocking!" he said, trying to sound less tense but failing miserably. "Turns out the USCIS looks into applications a bit more intensely when the sponsoring spouse is arrested for domestic violence against a different woman. She spooked right after it happened, was granted a very easy divorce and I believe headed back home, or perhaps on to husband number two. For some reason she was worried about doing time for defrauding the federal government. Women!"

Cuddy nodded, disliking the sense of relief that she felt in knowing the woman was gone, but feeling it flood her nonetheless. She said, barely above a whisper, "I never wanted to hurt you like that."

House tensed and could see Cuddy bracing herself for the next words that would come from his mouth. He knew he didn't want to go down that path with her while she was in her current frame of mind, so he deflected. "So why come here? You said you don't know…I think you do. I am a terrible person, Cuddy. I've been a terrible person during our entire mutual history. I think I've made…modest improvements, and by modest I mean barely noticeable, but why would you want to be around me, especially right now? I'm not what you need."

She stood from the table and walked toward the patio doors to gaze outside, her arms wrapped around her own torso. "For someone who flaunts lying, you are…usually brutally honest when it comes to me. I don't…feel much anymore. I figured if there's ever anyone that had experience with being devoid of compassion…" she trailed off, not wanting to intentionally hurt him, but feeling the meaning had been conveyed. "Everyone I talk to looks at me with this…this look of sympathy and pity, and I can't stand it anymore. I don't want sympathy, I just want…" She moved her hands through the air as she was looking for the words, frustrated with her inability to convey her thoughts, "I want this, fucking pit of ache to subside enough to feel anything else. It's all I can feel, it has consumed me, and even that is…it's starting to dull into this unending throb."

House nodded, barely moving his head, but she could see the understanding in his eyes. "I used to cry," she continued, "a lot. Every moment I was alone. I buried myself in work, and even you would be impressed by just how much I was able to bury myself in work, and when I wasn't there, I made sure I was alone. Then, one day the crying was gone. A few tears here and there…sometimes I get angry…but that's it. Everyone tells me it takes time…I'm stuck here. I kept thinking of you, because you are the only human being on the planet that is more miserable."

House put his hand to his jaw and stared off, calmly thinking. "So you are hoping I'll be an asshole?"

"No. I'm hoping you'll just, be you. I don't want to make the drive alone, because, I just don't feel like listening to the words in my head for hours, and at the same time I don't want someone feeding me the canned lines of support that are supposed to somehow make me feel better and just end up irritating me."

"Cuddy, what happens when we get there, or…half way there, and you decide you can't stand being near me for another minute?"

"If that happens," she started.

"When that happens," he interjected.

"Fine…when that happens, I'll pay to fly you back, or if we aren't near an airport, I'll rent you your own car."

"This is a mistake," he said with certainty.

"I figured you'd say that," she said, forcing a smile, "I want you to come anyway."

He tried again to break the tension in the air, "Are you hoping to use me to vent your pent up sexual frustration? Take out all of your anger on the innocent by-standing cripple with a gigantic…"

"No, House," she interrupted before he could finish the thought. "I promise I won't use you like a sexual punching bag."

"Damn," he responded, flashing her a smirk until she rolled her eyes, "Kidding, Cuddy."

"I have to check in with my boss, I don't know if I can get the time off..."

"You care?"

"The world is safest when I'm busy. I don't miss work much."

She looked at him with a look of surprise. "Being busy keeps me out of trouble…for the most part… Remember, I told you this was a mistake. It always is. Don't be surprised when you eventually regret coming to find me," he said somberly.

"I know," she answered, looking away. "Don't have that much to lose, do I?"

They settled into silence, each feeling the ominous creeping of something on the horizon. "I better call my boss."

"It's Sunday," she responded.

"You really did forget the joys of having this genius work for you. When has day of the week or time of day stopped me?"

She smiled a smile that was nearly genuine, "True. Would you mind if I got a shower?"

He nodded, "Use mine, never can tell how many girls are waiting in Kate's. You should be able to find everything you need."

She mumbled her thanks and turned to leave. He noticed that, almost on unstoppable impulse, he tilted his head to watch her walk away. He sighed, damn she still looked good.

He tried to return to reading his journal but couldn't ignore the feeling that he wished she hadn't shown up the night before, and knowing just the same, that now that they had met again, it would be even harder to let go.

She walked into his bedroom and looked around. The furniture was different, although a few of the same items were strewn around the room. There was less clutter, and things were clearly more orderly than they had been when last she'd been in his bedroom. She sat down on the bed, fascinated by the space that seemed so quintessentially him. The smells, the general feeling of the room was the same. She marveled at the strangeness of knowing someone so long that in so many ways was always kept at arm's length. Perhaps 'familiar strangeness' defined so much of them. She ventured into the bathroom, not wanting him to catch her lingering there in his bedroom, feeling oddly comforted to be surrounded by his things. She was adjusting the water and stood upright, placing her hand on her forehead, and said aloud, "I must be completely insane."

A/N 2- USCIS is the United States Citizenship and Immigration Service (Used to be the INS).