Thanks again for all of the amazing reviews and private messages you guys have sent. It really means a lot to me.

I apologize for the delay. Here is the next chapter. It begins at the end of Saviors, after Amber appears.

Disclaimer: You know the deal. House is not mine. *cries*

Desperate

"So which was it?"

She had barely opened the door when he spoke.

"Why does this not surprise me?" she sighed. "It's like you're on some kind of sadistic schedule."

"A booty call without the booty," he responded as he stepped through the door and followed her into the living room. "Except in your case, it's double the booty."

She dropped down on the couch and scowled up at him, but he was cautiously looking around.

"Double the booty without the call," he said.

He was distracted. She noticed a nervous, almost anxious look in his eyes as he glanced over her shoulder and to the corner of the room. But it was gone just as quickly as she'd seen it, replaced by relief and devilment.

He squinted at her then, and gave her an infuriatingly sexy grin. She loved it when he looked at her that way, and she hated that she loved it. Would she ever grow immune?

House snapped his fingers as if an idea just occurred to him. "Although, I could be convinced to service…"

"In your dreams," she said.

"You sought me out today!" he pointed at her with his cane.

"And yet, you are standing in my living room," she answered drolly.

She was wearing her grey robe tonight. Tied closed around her, he sadly noted. As she crossed her arms and legs though, the fabric slid to the side to offer a nice glimpse of her thigh. Oh, the legs that launched a thousand fantasies.

"You wanted to know what was going on with Cameron."

"I usually do like to know what's going on with my staff."

"This wasn't about keeping your fingers on the pulse of your staff," he said. "This was about keeping your fingers on my staff."

"My fingers haven't been on your staff."

"But you want them to be."

"No," she corrected in an overly tolerant voice. "YOU want them to be."

"You want me to want them to be."

"Have you been drinking?"

"No more than usual," he immediately answered, and came to sit down on the coffee table in front of her.

"Make yourself at home," she said dryly.

"Admit it, Cuddy," he ignored her comment, maintaining that single-minded focus on his current puzzle. "You were trying to find out if Cameron was giving up the one down under for another chance to go down on me."

"Who's going down on you?"

House swirled around quickly at the sound of his voice.

Charles swaggered into the living room and plopped down on the couch next to Cuddy.

"No one," Cuddy answered lightly, a little too comfortable with the man for House's liking. "Did we wake you?"

"I never sleep well when the smell of sex is in the air."

Charles grinned at Cuddy. She tried not to laugh. She knew he was teasing her again about the sexual chemistry that charged the air when House was in the room with her. House, however, wasn't in on that joke.

"What are you doing here?"

Charles tried not to laugh at the scowl on his face as he gripped his cane so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"I was sleeping," he said. "Now I'm thinking a night cap is in order."

"Make mine a double," House demanded.

"Oh." Charles only mouthed the words and stared at him a beat before turning to Cuddy. "Is he staying?"

"No."

"Yes."

They answered simultaneously.

Charles made a popping sound with his lips.

"Well, that's clear," he said and placed his hand on Cuddy's thigh, tapping it lightly. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she gave him a reassuring smile.

House grit his teeth as he watched them. The man sat too close, and touched too much.

He quickly moved forward, wedging his knee between them.

Cuddy could almost smell the testosterone. She didn't know if she should laugh or scream.

"Why don't I get us all a drink?" she said instead. "God knows I need one."

She'd barely left the room when House turned on him.

"What are you doing here?"

"Not that it's any of your business," Charles patiently pointed out. "But I'm staying with her a few days while they finish up a renovation at my apartment."

"How convenient."

"At least I have an excuse."

"I don't like him."

House jerked slightly and turned toward the sound of her voice.

"He's obviously baiting you," Amber said.

"And what are you doing here so late, Dr. House?"

"Sickness and disease don't punch a time clock," House grumbled, too distracted to offer a better response.

"That's it?" she taunted. "You can do better than that."

House grimaced. He'd thought it had been a kind of waking dream, a momentary illusion or a freak ignition in his brain brought about by exhaustion, and stress.

"You're not here about a patient," Charles said. "You're pining."

House glared at him. He didn't like this guy, either.

"Pining implies emotion…as in caring," House said. "I don't have a heart. Cuddy can tell you that."

Charles laughed.

"He's enjoying this way too much."

House agreed with Amber.

It's not Amber.

He felt disconcerted.

"Is that what Lisa will say?" Charles teased. "You're the Tin Man looking for a heart?"

"Who said I'm looking?" House retorted.

"He's gay."

House tried to ignore her.

She's not real. This is just a trick of my mind. A result of too many days without enough sleep.

"You're right," Charles said. "You're not looking. You already have a heart. She's pouring you a drink right now."

"Busted." Amber mocked him as she began moving around the room. "He's got your number."

"Too bad for you," Charles grinned, and confidently spread his arms out along the back of the sofa. "I'm already here. Guess I got to her first."

House felt the sucker punch of an unwelcomed déjà vu. Lucas had said something similar to him not too long ago. It felt like a lifetime ago. How much time had he wasted?

Amber laughed. "A socially inept idiot and a flaming queen are your competition? Maybe you really are losing it."

"You mean you got her spare room first," House said, continuing to ignore the vision of Wilson's dead girlfriend. "Welcome to the friend zone. That sticky palm welcomes you."

"That's disgusting."

You're not real!

House tried to will Amber away.

"Aren't we cocky for a man who's been unable to get his girl for what? 20 years?"

"How does he know that?"

How does he know that?

"You should stop wasting your time pissing on trees and find other uses for that…ahem…cane of yours."

"I told you he was gay," Amber said, stepping up behind House. "He knows he's not man enough for her."

House heard a shuffling noise and saw Charles look in the direction of the dining room. But he was frozen, unable to process what was going on around him much less respond.

"Go get her, Tiger." Amber whispered in his ear.

House gulped. He'd come here to be free, drawn by some invisible, magnetic force to a place of safety. Of sanity. Surely being with Cuddy, being who they were together would clear things up, realign his universe. But Amber was still there. A ghost. A nemesis.

Cuddy's face held a worried frown as she handed House the glass. His face was ashen; his body tense and still. He looked like hell.

"House?"

Her voice seemed to bring him back from whatever nightmare had momentarily entrapped him, but she was worried. Something was off.

He stared at her, his blue eyes wide and wary.

"Are you okay?" she asked, growing concerned.

Charles slipped up beside her, holding the glass of wine she'd given him in one hand as he caressed her back with the other.

"I'll leave you alone with Dr. Jekyll and Hyde here," he said. "Call me if you need reinforcements."

Cuddy barely acknowledged him; she was totally focused on House.

"Is it your leg?" She asked, trying to understand what had brought on this sudden change in him. "Are you hurting?"

House jerked his head to the side, waiting for Amber's taunting voice.

Silence.

"House?" Cuddy gently touched his shoulder, becoming more worried as the seconds passed.

Amber was gone.

House looked at the hand on his shoulder and followed the line of her arm until he met her gaze.

"You're not sleeping with him."

She frowned, puzzled by the sudden shift in him. How quickly he could move from brokenness to arrogance. He was a sporadic storm. She should take cover, move far away from the threatening clouds that always followed him. But as usual, she couldn't resist. She was like a storm chaser, high on his barometric reading.

"You're not even dating him."

Charles. He was talking about Charles.

She felt a flutter in her stomach. His jealousy spoke volumes, didn't it?

"That is none of your business," she said, and turned away from him to settle onto the couch in the space Charles had vacated.

House downed the shot of liquor she'd given him before responding.

"He's gay."

He handed her the empty glass and slid down the coffee table so he was directly across from her again. The man had no concept of physical boundaries when it came to her. His long legs surrounded hers, and he leaned forward, waiting for her to confirm his allegation.

"You want a medal?" she said, placing the empty glass on the side table.

"I knew it!" His voice was almost celebratory.

She took a sip of her wine before meeting his eyes.

"Your gay-dar is not as impressive as your diagnostic skills."

He was unmoved by her sarcasm.

"You wanted me to believe he was your date."

"No," she said calmly. "You believed that all on your own."

"You think you're cunning," House said, his arrogance returned in full measure. "But you're just a child trying to play with the big boys."

"I'm the child?" Her husky laugh mocked him. "Hello pot, it's the kettle."

His eyes pierced her.

"You want me."

"Oh, here we go again," she release a kind of sigh intermingled with a groan and took a sip of wine before placing it on the side table with his empty glass.

"You chased me down today because you were afraid Cameron was crossing into your territory."

My territory. Interesting.

"I wanted to know why the head of ER was spending so much time in a department she frantically ran from not so long ago."

House couldn't find her tell. He was looking. Oh, was he looking. He needed to know this was a bluff, another move she was making to jerk him around. He'd rather that than the alternative.

"But you didn't get an answer to that question."

"Didn't I?"

"You only know what she wasn't doing," he reminded her. "You still don't know what she was actually doing."

"Perhaps," Cuddy agreed, crossing her legs and leaning toward him. House tried not to be distracted by the bare thigh exposed as the fabric dropped to her side, or the way her move revealed the slightest glimpse of her cleavage. "Or maybe I only wanted to know what YOU thought she was doing because I already knew what she actually was doing."

House squinted at her, considering her words a beat.

"In that case, you still didn't get your answer."

"And neither will you."

"Ha!" He bellowed. "But I know the answer."

"Then why are you here?"

"It's time to woman-up, Cuddy," he said, his knees moving in closer to press against the outside of her thighs.

"You can stop avoiding me and just admit you have the hots for me."

"I'm hardly avoiding you, House," she said, trying to ignore the way he surrounded her, and the way it made her feel. "I see you every day."

"You lecture me on every minor infraction to avoid the appearance of unprofessional behavior you're actually wanting."

"Minor infraction?" she quirked a brow at him. "Stealing mice from the cancer lab?"

"To test a theory surrounding a patient," he argued. "It was cheaper than blood tests."

"Using the MRI for porn viewing."

"Impotence was a symptom," he said. "I was monitoring synaptic reactions to sexual stimuli. A valid diagnostic tool."

"Having your patient hurl sexual slurs at me?"

"Not an infraction," he proudly said. "A compliment."

"So you said."

"And so you thought."

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "How do you figure that?"

"Dilated pupils, a flush just above your left clavicle, nervous movement of your fingers, a subtle twitch of your lip signaling you're trying not to grin or flirtatiously bite your lower lip."

God he was frustrating.

"Your arrogance is only surpassed by your boner."

"Why thank you."

Cuddy laughed heartily at him. He was so inappropriate and outrageous. It excited her more than she cared to admit.

She's stunning.

He found himself nervously looking over her shoulder and quickly around the room, expecting Amber to reveal herself yet again.

"What's going on, House?"

He felt himself relax as he realized she wasn't there, mocking him, tormenting him. He had to admit, her appearance so vividly in his mind was freaking him out. That was really why he came to see Cuddy, for distraction…and rescue.

Her eyes searched him, seeking answers to her unspoken questions. He returned to stare, knowing she would intuitively understand what he needed. She had a way of reading him – when he let her.

It was funny how Amber didn't appear when Cuddy was in the room. Maybe he'd unconsciously expected that would be the case. Maybe that was what drew him to her tonight. He'd known on some deeper level that Cuddy could restore some balance and ease his mind. She would save him from this black hole threatening to take him.

Or maybe he'd just been hoping.

Hope.

He'd been testing out the hope theory these past few months. It hadn't worked out so well. The methadone messed with his abilities, and counseling was as useless as he'd expected. Those guys were indeed quacks.

But then Kutner had offed himself, and…

"We've been here before," she softly spoke, a hint of sadness cloaking her grey eyes. "You didn't handle the honesty so well."

Damn!

House looked away from her, an annoying twinge of guilt surging through him.

"I apologized for that," he said.

Cuddy noted his voice was husky with unexpected emotion.

So he does regret it.

Last time she'd taken a step toward him, pushing him to admit what was between them, trying to guide him through the emotions as he'd hinted she should do, he'd vulgarly groped her.

"You didn't get the memo?" he said. "It was wrapped in wood and is now the center point of your office."

He'd worked hard to get that desk for her. She'd never even acknowledge it.

Cuddy was surprised by the hint of hurt in his voice.

"I wasn't sure," she said. "Your hooker was a bit distracting."

House frowned.

My hooker?

Cuddy could almost see his mind replaying the day, reconciling what she'd said with his memory. His brow furrowed at the process, but then his eyes closed and he sighed.

"She wasn't…we didn't…" he stammered. "It wasn't what you think."

She believed him. It may make her stupid, and likely proved she was pathetic, but she did believe him.

He tentatively touched her hand. His index finger slid along the outside of her hand.

"You came?"

Well, at least he understood the significance of the misstep. Better late than never.

"How could I not?"

Good, he thought. She had come to thank him. It had the desired affect after all.

She turned her hand over so his finger could move along her palm.

"Thank you."

Cuddy felt a shiver course through her when his hand clasped hers, holding it between both his palms as their eyes locked. It felt like he was trying to transmit through his touch what he couldn't say, what he wanted her to know.

House held his breath when her other hand came to caress his jaw, her fingers lightly running through the scruff of his beard.

This is it.

This was where he needed to be. This is where he wanted to be. He didn't need to be afraid. Whatever he thought he was giving up (and for the life of him he couldn't think of a thing that mattered right now) wasn't anywhere near as important as what he could have with her.

Her thumb traced the pulp of his lower lip, and House moved slowly toward her.

There's not going back, he thought. If I do this…

"Kiss her already," Amber said.

Cuddy sat stunned as House jerked away from her, awkwardly standing and frantically staring toward the entry to her living room.

House could see her clearly. Amber, mocking him with a wave of her hand and a teasing grin.

Fuck!

He was in trouble. He was going to lose Cuddy. He was going to lose everything.

"I need to go," he mumbled.

Cuddy watched House rush out the door and the tears welled in her eyes.

Nothing had changed. She didn't think it ever would.