This is the end, folks.
Thank you all for reading and commenting.
Thank you to all the guests. Thank you Robin for your lengthy and interesting comments. I can't answer them personally, unfortunately, since you are not registered. I think you can find answers for your questions in the text itself. About "why Princeton?" House told me he had connections there. What kind of connections, he didn't say.
IV
"Play for me," asked Cuddy.
They were in the living room. House was seated in front of the piano. Cuddy at his side. The sun was finally setting. Everything was bathed in an dim orange light.
House started playing. Cuddy watched his nimble fingers moving skilfully along the keyboard. The veins of his hands dancing to the tune. Such beautiful hands. The music started softly, slowly, timidly, almost like it was afraid to be born. Later it gained momentum and intentionality and entered into a syncopated rhythm. Cuddy recognized Jewish influences and was surprised. The music continued with variations of the same rhythm for some time until it returned to a more melodic sound, notes succeeding each other like waves in the sea. It ended in a long and languid tone, so sublime that it filled Cuddy's heart with beauty.
House stopped playing.
"This was the music I composed for Rachel's Simchat Bat."
"You never told me. Why didn't you tell me you had composed something so beautiful for my daughter? Even during the time we were together?"
"I don't know. I played it while I imagined the ceremony taking place. I thought that I didn't need to play it again. The gesture was made. The meaning given. It was a moment and that moment passed. It wasn't necessary to be repeated."
"Except now."
"Except now. I wanted to show you that something good still exists inside me."
Cuddy wanted to hug him forever.
"You know I waited for you all that night? Every time someone knocked on the door, I wished it were you. But you never came."
"You never invited me properly."
"One of my mistakes," said Cuddy with sadness. "Thank you for the music. From the bottom of my heart. I would like for you to come and see Rachel. She liked to play with you. She was your friend."
House nodded, quickly, almost imperceptibly. "Maybe some day."
They were very close now, head touching head. Seated on the same bench, in front of the piano. They were speaking softly, in murmurs. Their own private world. Cuddy covered House's hands with her own, as if to shelter them. Their fingers intertwined. They stayed like this for a long time. The sun had set and the room was in darkness, only lit by the moon and some stars. Far away, on a nearby roof, a cat meowed. It was as if a baby was crying.
"I miss him," said House, but his voice didn't betray any emotion besides the simple stating of a fact. Cuddy, however, sensed the desolation hidden behind those words.
Slowly, House unlocked his hands from hers and kissed Cuddy tenderly on the forehead. "It's getting late. You better go now." He stood up and started turning on the lights. Cuddy remained where she was.
"Why did you hang that sword on the wall? Does it have any meaning?"
"It's my father's sword. For a long time it stayed in a closet. I decided to give it some air. It's a beautiful piece. It has the meaning you want to give to it."
Cuddy didn't want to leave, but she knew she couldn't stay. House stood next to a lamp. Waiting.
"I liked seeing you. It was good. I wish…" Cuddy hesitated, "I wish for us to be friends." She looked at him.
House's face hardened. "I don't need your commiseration, Cuddy. Nor do I want it. You changed your life because of me. You left the hospital, the work you loved. You changed cities. I can't erase what I've done and I don't want to go back."
"I didn't come to see you out of pity. I already told I miss you. I missed you all these years. Yes, the past can't be changed. And yes, I felt anger towards you for a long time. But then the anger passed and emptiness took its place. I don't want us to return to what we were but I don't want to lose you either. I don't want for you to remain a bad memory in my life."
"It seems I'm hearing echoes of a similar conversation, a conversation that started with me telling you that this was a mistake, telling you I wasn't going to change. And you telling me that you didn't want me to change, but after all you did want it, didn't you? It's the same tune, only with different notes. I'm another person but, deep down, I remain the same. I don't know if the person I am now will be good enough for you. You saw me today, for the first time in years. Because you had a pleasant afternoon you think everything will be different. You didn't see my bad moments. I still have those. You didn't see my "son of a bitch" moments. Legally, I don't exist. I live with false documents. I never stay in any place for long. I have shady friends. It's a precarious life, but it's the life I chose. I'm fifty-five years old, what you see is what I have to give. Everything, so far, is working well but that can change any minute. Gregory House died in that warehouse, it's not in my plans to bring him back. You liked seeing me. I liked seeing you too. I liked the fact that you look at me like I am a human being, not some kind of monster. For that, I am grateful. But do you know how much it pains me having you here, wishing for you to stay and being forced to say 'go'?"
Cuddy understood the truth of House's words. She stood up and walked towards the front door. House followed her. She opened the door and turned to him.
"Then, this is the moment of the real goodbye."
House cursed himself for what he was going to do but he couldn't let, yet again, another woman walked out of his life that way. He moved closer to Cuddy, held her hand and kissed her palm with deep affection.
"I love you. I can't be your friend. But if you want to come to the park, once in a while, to talk, I wouldn't mind."
Cuddy smiled and nodded.
"It's a deal", she said.
House looked at her as if he was seeing her for the last time. And maybe he was, who could know for sure. Who would have guessed Cuddy would come to him that afternoon? And how many afternoons were in his future? House hoped a lot more and, maybe, in one of them…
THE END
