Once again, thanks for your awesome feedback ! You guys are amazing !

This is the last chapter of my story. Hope you enjoy it !

Cuddy was a prisoner of her silence. She held still, she wasn't saying a word. She was simply letting herself die.

House was by her side. She held his hand, as if she was scared of loneliness.

Masters arrived, breathless, and stood behind the glass.

" Dr Cuddy ! It's not smallpox !"

" What are your thoughts ?" Cuddy asked, suddenly resuscitated.

" Rickettsialpox. It's curable. I have to examine Dr House-"

" It's OK. I can do it by myself."

She didn't want anyone else to touch him.

She set the sheet aside with difficulty, her hands shaking.

" What am I supposed to look for ?"

" Eschars."

" He doesn't have eschars ! I would have seen..."

Cuddy saw a black crust on his collarbone. Masters was right.

She wasn't going to die.

She gripped the sheet, refusing to admit the evidence. What she thought being a scar from stitches was the proof that she could have saved him.

And, if House really had smallpox, the rash would have started from his head, not his back. She was such a paltry doctor...

She felt her tears coming back, and let them run on her cheeks.

Cuddy fell on House's cold torso. She was imagining him, stroking her hair, telling her that it wasn't a big deal.

But he would inevitably be upset.

" Can I come in ?" Wilson asked, before noticing he didn't wait for Cuddy's answer and reached for her bed.

She slowly turned her head to him. Wilson's eyes were swollen, he seemed as lost as she was.

" Code seven is over." he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. She replied with an approving toss of the head. The oncologist insisted :

" You wanna talk ?"

" Not really."

Broda had moved her in a 'classic ' room, now that he was sure that she hadn't smallpox. That nobody had it.

House wasn't with her any more. She could barely realize that she wasn't going to see him ever again, except on a few photos.

" He's dead, James. What am I gonna do ?"

" You have Rachel."

" Yes..."

A heavy silence fell on the room, before Wilson eventually spoke :

" I came for a blood sample."

Cuddy gave him her arm, letting the oncologist plant his syringe. He noticed the two pills on the bedside table. They had been there for a few hours and, obviously, Cuddy didn't want to take them.

" Is it doxycyclin ?"

" It is."

" You think dying is a good choice ?"

" I don't know."

" Take the pills, Lisa. Tomorrow, you'll be discharged."

" And where will I go ?"

Her answer surprised him.

" I could have saved House. We would have been together for ten, twenty years. I screwed up everything..."

" You couldn't have known."

" Yes I could."

Wilson put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Cuddy choked back her tears.

" I don't want to leave him."

" He would want you to take the treatment. You have a child, you can't leave her."

" But I... I promised..." she stammered.

" You deserve to live on. He knows that."

The argument scored a bull. Cuddy swallowed the pills and curled up into a ball.

" I'll come back later."

" Hm-hum."

Wilson left her alone. He had a lot of work tonight.

A sleepless night later, Cuddy took her medicine again, intending to overcome House's death. It was going to be difficult, but she wanted to do it for Rachel. She was going to get out of her hospital, sneak off to her mom's to take her daughter back.

Wilson came in the room, a paper in his hand, nervously twisting his fingers. He was still hesitating, not knowing if what he was going to tell her was going to help her or to kill her.

" James ? Is everything okay ?"

" You should sit down."

" Why ?" she asked, sitting on her bed.

" I analysed your blood, and there is a problem. It's your alpha-fetoproteins rate."

She stared at him, before yelping :

" You sure ?"

He gave her the crumpled paper.

" I verified three times. 40 micrograms per litre of blood."

" It's nothing, it could be a liver cancer. Dammit ! You're an oncologist and you can't diagnose a damn cancer ?"

Wilson looked at her, with no ambiguity.

" I'm 41." Cuddy said. " I went through three IVF, all of them ended in failure, and you're telling me I'm pregnant ?"

Wilson sat next to her. Talking would release her, and he was ready to make her speak as much as it was possible.

" What about condoms ?"

" We didn't think that I could... You know..."

She sighed, read the test again, and put a hand on her stomach. There was someone down here ?

" I don't want to." she suddenly said.

She stood up, letting the paper fall on the mattress.

" I don't want to..." she repeated.

She picked her bag up, put her penguin in it and escaped from the room before Wilson could catch her.

She found shelter in the morgue, needing to say goodbye to House one last time.

One day, he had had lunch here, just to bother her. She had had to call him ' Sweet sauce ' to make him stop. It was humiliating, but fun.

When she found the drawer, she hesitated again. She knew it was the last time she would physically see him, and that he would look deader than in his bed.

Cuddy eventually opened the drawer. His massive body was covered with a shroud, the traditional label hung at his toe.

A corpse among others. That's what he was. But for Cuddy, he would always be the most incredible man she had ever known.

She reached the top of his body and took the sheet off, down to his shoulders.

He was pale and cold. His lips had turned to blue.

Cuddy stroked them with her fingertips, then grazed his cheek.

" Forgive me." she murmured. " Forgive me my love. I wish you were with me right now... Oh, I wish you knew..."

She couldn't stand it. Pain was too huge.

" Sleep well. I love you."

She could barely leave him. She put the sheet back on and gave him back to the Death, the squeak of the drawer going with her until she completely closed it in a dull sound that shook her temples.

She took a deep breath, got out of the morgue, and left her hospital.

House had given her a spare key, telling her that if she wanted to wait for him, naked on the bed, it would please him. It was his way to tell her that now it was her home too.

Cuddy was holding this key in her hand. She unlocked the door and came in the flat.

Memories were painfully back. She stayed still, becoming saturated with happy moments she had in the living room in front on her.

Because I forgot to grab a ' V '.

She wouldn't be able to play boggle any more.

So, unless you're breaking up with me, I'm going home now.

I love you.

She left the room and went to the bedroom. Their bedroom.

And I slipped the nanny forty bucks, told her to stay till ten.

Really ?

Hum, really !

Remembering each one of their nights, she entered the bathroom. Where she saved him, where she gave herself to him, where everything started again.

I love you.

She put one of her hands on her stomach. She couldn't let the small human being grow inside of her. House was dead, she couldn't do it without him.

I wish I didn't.

Then she wondered how he would have reacted. Would he have rejected her ? Yes, running away from a huge responsibility such as being a father seemed like him. But, on the other hand, he loved her. He would have supported her.

She could barely realize that she was pregnant. She had always dreamed of giving birth, having her own little baby. She had adopted, because her body didn't want her to deserve this happiness. She had lost Joy. So House had kissed her to comfort her, and they had taken a dark road. Almost two years later, Cuddy ended this trip.

She had a daughter. She had House. And her dream has just ended. House died. She was going to stop the pregnancy she had always wanted.

Cuddy stood in front of the mirror, above the washbasin.

She had lost everything. And it was her fault. She could have saved House.
Life was unfair.

" No !" she cried out, throwing her fist into the mirror that broke. Fragments drove in her palm, cutting her fingers.

She stepped back to the closest wall, staring at her injured hand. She slid to the floor and desperately tried to extract some fragments. She made her bleeding worse and gave up.

" House... Take me home..." she murmured.

Whatever could happen, nothing would make her leave her bathroom's floor.

She wasn't going to pull through this.

END

Rickettsialpox was actually a wrong diagnosis because this disease isn't transmitted person to person.

I am currently working on an other translation. ;) See you soon !

Hugs, xx