The reason I haven't updated earlier, when I had planned to, is because it turned out I was going to England! I'm now just north of London in a big-small town (depends on what you compare it to... Anyway. Here is the update. Hope you like.


House drummed his fingers against the table, looking at the clock on his computer screen. She was late, he thought with amused disappointment. It was then he saw her walking down the hallway, dressed in her usual attire; jeans and a t-shirt. Once she was in his office, giving him an apologetic smile as she tossed her keys from hand to hand. There was something so simple about playing with keys that made him realize that she was probably making more progress than he had thought in the first place.

"You're late," he scolded and she gave him the same apologetic smile, but this time she seemed more smug about it. It would not have surprised him if he had found out she had come late on purpose. "And we have a case." She nodded solemnly as he walked towards the conference room, where symptoms were scribbled on with a blue marker. With a loud sigh he stepped towards her and gently took a hold of her upper arm, and pushed her into the conference room, pushing her down on the chair she usually occupied, where she had done their department's charting.

"Any news people?" He asked as he slipped her the patient file. She looked at him in confusion as she lost the grip of the file and it fell to the floor. "Read it, so you know what we're talking about," he whispered loudly and she nodded quickly while she reached for the file on the floor, cleverly hiding herself from view as Cuddy rushed by the office.

(

The force behind the push sent her to the floor, leaving black spots in her vision as his hands cradled her face gently, kissing her cheek as she blinked, trying to clear her vision. The shock was still holding her still as he picked her up from the floor, holding her to his chest as he carried her to their couch. His kisses were everywhere on her face, trying to be comforting, trying to apologize.

Her head was throbbing, and she realized that she must have cracked it against the floor. Numbly, she reached to touch the back of her head and felt the sticky blood soak her fingertips. With a groan she realized that she would have to go to the hospital.

What would she tell them? She asked herself as she felt a tear spill from his eyes and down on her cheek. It did not matter anyway. She did not have to tell them anything, she concluded as he pulled her head up from the couch, his hands touching the back of her head so gently that she could not believe that he had done this.

Once again he picked her up, giving her a towel and pressed it against the wound then taking her hand and pressing it to it. Wordlessly, he told her what she already knew she had to do, keep pressure to minimize the bleeding.

Her head was spinning from the realization of what had happened. One minute they were having a great time, the next minute she was on the floor with her skull cracked open. She closed her eyes. It was her fault, she thought. She should have known better than to make him angry; she was supposed to be his wife, she was supposed to know what made him angry. It was stupid to provoke him.

The world seemed strange and blinding as they stepped into the noisy ER, everyone speaking a language she did not understand. It was so different from their condo, where everything was still and silent, only nature dared to make a sound there.

People rushed towards her as they caught the sight of the soaked white towel, pulling her and Charlie towards the back, towards a quiet room where the heat was not smoldering, and instead of sweating she felt frozen as the air-conditioning blew against her clammy skin.

The nurses muttered and glared at Charlie, shaking their heads in pity at her. It did not take a genius to figure out what they were thinking. She reached out to hold Charlie's hand as a doctor with rough hands started to stitch the wound up, but Charlie discreetly pulled his hand away, laying it on his lap.

"There you go," the doctor said with a broad accent and a smile as he rolled away on his chair.

"Thank you," she answered, her voice thick with unshed tears that threatened to spill as she thought over the fact that Charlie might still be mad. Once the doctor had left, she started to sit up again, only to be stopped by Charlie who leaned over her, pressing her shoulders against the mattress.

"Don you ever dare to speak again," he whispered so quietly against her ear that she at first did not understand what he had said, and as she realized her mistake, her eyes widened in fear. She nodded quickly. How could she speak when it obviously caused him so much pain?

)

As his fellows walked out of the room, he spun around and looked at her. She was still reading through the file, flipping pages, going back and forth, before putting it down with a sigh.

"Miss the brain teasing?" He asked with a smirk, reaching for the file. He had actually hoped that something would come out of this, that she would realize what was wrong with the patient and it would somehow magically make her talk again. He had known better than to hope though, but still, he felt a twinge of disappointment when she just stared at her feet with a stubborn look on her face.

"You know what fascinates me?" He asked, and she looked at him quickly, before glancing sideways at the white board, where three different diseases were now scribbled, all of them crossed out. "Yeah, a forty year old male that stinks more than a dump really makes me wonder what has gone wrong in our world," he quipped. As he said this she glanced away, at the papers that filled the glass table in the middle of the room, the patterns the sun made as it shone through the drapes, making the room look dusky.

"It was bad, right?" He asked suddenly, his voice much tender, but he could not disguise is curiosity. It lived in him like a little child and nothing seemed to make the kid inside of him consider his approach, to maybe reconsider even bringing it up. Though, he felt like he was going to burst if he did not get the answer soon.

Her eyes landed on his as soon as he finished his question, her face went blank. Her eyes watched him with a coolness that frightened him.

"What happened?" She did not even tense as he asked. Her eyes just kept staring into his, as if she was looking through him, past him. Inside her, the memories of her husband resurfaced again, for the second time in a short while. Only this time she remembered the good times. She remembered when they drove to her parents' house and he helped her mother with the food and they joked. Then he had gone out with her father to a neighbor's and they played poker. Charlie won over them all. It was hard to think that the same man had ruined her in so many ways.

While House waited for an answer, she tried to figure it out herself.

(

The plates were broken. She had dropped them and they were on the floor in pieces. There was no time to pick them up. No time to hide the fact that she had broken them. He would be home any minute. Slowly, she closed her eyes and breathed through her mouth, trying to calm down and think rationally.

There was nothing she could do, she concluded. He was going to find her in here with the broken plates around her feet, see her in a mess and he would be angry. He would be furious.

She stared at the plates, knowing that any attempt to clean it up would be futile since he would get just as angry anyway. It had been a wedding present from his best friend. Still, she picked the plates up, her arms trembling with fear as she listened after his footsteps outside their apartment. But it was silent. She couldn't help the tears that spilled, couldn't help it as she started to sob when she continued to dish the rest of the dishes. She could hardly see what she was dishing through her tears.

)