So I seem to have managed to make a fair few people cry with that last chapter. I guess that means I did something right, but even so… sorry about that. Another apology is in order for the snail's pace I'm managing to churn this out at. I can only really write on a weekend, but I will aim to keep posting updates at some point on a Monday.

Thank you so much to everybody who's reading, reviewing etc. I'm really happy that people are getting something out of my mad ramblings.

Some mild "adult content" in this chapter, folks. It's safe to say this chapter is a bit of a rollercoaster…

Shore owns them. Obviously.


A cool, early evening breeze tickled around the back of House's neck, as he heard the French windows opening and closing behind him, and the unmistakeable sound of Cuddy's footsteps approaching him. After he'd left her room he'd searched the house for her and eventually found her awkwardly curled up on Rachel's bed, fast asleep and breathing deeply, one hand resting under her head and the other clutching tightly onto the bright pink duvet cover underneath her. Whilst he'd stood there with the door ajar a part of him considered bailing there and then, and avoiding the inevitable heartache of her telling him to leave. A bigger part couldn't. Not only did he owe her the common decency of not just upping and leaving without a proper goodbye after everything she'd done, selfishly he couldn't bring himself to put one foot in front of the other and walk out of the house knowing that this was almost certainly the last time he'd ever see her. He'd already lost one of the most important people in his life today, he wasn't about to be complacent about the time he had left with another.

Without looking up he bounced the ball in his hand on the ground, caught it again and was in the process of repeating the action when another hand reached out and gracefully snatched it from him.

"You never would let me play with my balls in peace."

"It's not your ball to play with," Cuddy countered walking, the two or 3 steps to the flower bed and placing the ball back there, before returning to the bench where he was sitting.

Looking her up and down, he saw she'd gotten changed since he'd last seen her, the loose pair of jog pants and baggy top had been substituted for a tight pair of jeans and an equally figure-hugging cerise jumper. More worryingly she had his jacket in her hand as she loomed over him.

"You kicking me out already?" He gulped after he spoke and eyed her nervously, as she sat down next to him.

"No," she said shaking her head and turning to look at him. "We've both been cooped up in here for days. We're going out."

House frowned.

"Where?"

"There's a bar a couple of blocks away… It's not great, but it's a change of scenery."

Of all things he'd expected her to propose when he'd heard her walk out into the garden this wasn't it. Leaning back against the wooden rungs behind him, he drummed his fingers on the arm of the bench and stared out blankly in front him. For so many reasons this wasn't a good idea, and in all likelihood this was just her way of finding a distraction for him so he wouldn't do something stupid. He wanted to prove to her that he didn't need babysitting.

"I don't feel like it," House finally replied, and he meant it. Right now he couldn't bear the thought of being surrounded by other people who were cheerfully going about their lives after Wilson had just lost his. It didn't seem right.

"So you're going to let me get drunk on my own?"

"You'll still go?" he asked, genuinely surprised. Again he'd been wrong.

"If I have to…" Cuddy answered quietly, dropping her head and running her hand down the sleeve of his jacket to smooth a crease. "I need to get out of here."

"You barely even drink."

In response she sighed and looked at him with still tired and sad eyes.

"I've just had one of the worst days of my life. Tonight I drink."

House regarded her carefully, instantly seeing the distress that was bubbling under the determined exterior. Until now he hadn't even considered how hard it must have been for her to keep her composure as she'd waited for the death to be confirmed and the body to be taken away. He'd been too wrapped up in his own grief to even consider it. Clearly she was feeling this as much as he was, but her reaction to it all was still unexpected.

"And you're planning on getting wasted after the lecture you gave me about self-destructing a while back?"

With her jaw set she gave him an answer.

"I'm prepared to be a hypocrite for one night."

Returning her steely gaze he knew she meant it. This was Cuddy's non-negotiable face, but the circumstance for it was throwing him to the point he was starting to wonder if he was dreaming or hallucinating.

"This so isn't you," House said evenly, his contorted frown conveying his own disbelief at the situation. Her questioning his need to get high or drunk over the years was par for the course, but this was new territory altogether. If he was honest with himself he was more than a little concerned about her.

Shrugging her shoulders, Cuddy stood up and loomed over him once again.

"You coming or not?" Her hand stretched out towards him holding his jacket for him to take.

Their eyes locked for what seemed like forever, as House considered what he should do. Him, her and probably copious amounts of alcohol made for a volatile cocktail, especially when he factored in what had happened earlier. He couldn't let them part on bad terms, and there were no guarantees that wouldn't happen if he went with her.

"I should pack…"

He saw the hurt register on her face before she dropped his jacket on the seat next to him.

"Fine." Her heels clicked noisily on the patio tiles, as she put distance between them and headed back inside. "Don't bother waiting up."

Guilt shot through him like an excruciating red hot poker. There was no way he could let her walk out the door on her own when she was like this. Standing up, he turned to where she was just setting foot back into the kitchen.

"Cuddy, wait…" Stopping in her tracks, she span back around just as he picked up his jacket and put his arms in the sleeves. "For the record I'm doing this so the cops don't bring you back at 2 in the morning, because you've been stripping in front of the customers."

A crooked smile spread across her lips.

"In your dreams."

Limping towards her, he returned the smile.

"Totally!"


Standing at the bar with a twenty dollar bill tucked in between her fingers, Cuddy waited for the barman to bring her the drinks she'd ordered, and turned her attention back to the booth she and House had been sitting in for the last half an hour. Sat with his back to her, he'd been approached by a young, blonde, athletic-looking guy who was leaning down and saying something into her ex's ear; obviously in an attempt to be heard over the general noise of other people talking and the music emanating from the jukebox. Handing over the money and waiting for her change, Cuddy picked up the drinks and walked back to their table, passing the young man on the way, who unapologetically looked her up and down, before re-joining his group of equally young and attractive friends, none of whom could be older than in their early twenties.

"What was that about?" she asked, setting the two bottles of beer down and sitting back down.

"What?"

"The jock…" She gestured with her head towards the table he was sat at.

Thoughtfully House picked up his beer mat and tapped it on the table.

"He wanted to know if we were together…" Seeing her eyebrows raise, he continued. "I told him we weren't… I also told him you were a pre-op transsexual."

"You ass!" Cuddy exclaimed, kicking his shin under the table, and causing him to yelp out in pain.

"Jeez woman! Are you wearing steel toe caps?" House asked bending down to rub his leg. "Hello! Cripple here!"

"If you think that was hard…" she replied unsympathetically, raising one eyebrow as if to challenge him.

"I swear you missed your calling in life as a dominatrix."

Pulling a face at him and then resting her head in her hand, Cuddy turned her attention back in the direction of the young guy, who was now animatedly telling a story, as his friends listened intently.

"It's a shame… He's cute."

"Oh please! You'd break him in half," House spat sarcastically.

In response Cuddy pursed her lips and eyeballed him.

"It's like you want me to hurt you…"

"This is exactly what I mean…" Observing her unimpressed face, the former diagnostician bit his lip to stop himself from laughing out loud and threw his hands in the air in submission. "Fine! For the sake of my shins, go and talk to him."

As if she was considering it, Cuddy narrowed her eyes and looked at House as he dropped his head and shifted about in his seat awkwardly, pretending he was focusing his attention on peeling the label off his beer bottle. He really didn't want her to go, but what right did he have to stop her? The thought of her being pawed at by a guy who was less than half his age twisted his stomach in knots, but this wasn't any of his business. Not anymore.

Finally, she broke the silence.

"I'm good," she said quietly, a small but sincere smile turning up the corners of her mouth and spreading to her eyes.

Without consciously doing it, House felt himself breathing out in relief, completely unaware that he'd been holding his breath in the first place. Lifting up his beer he held it out towards her.

"To Wilson: a better man than both of us."

Cuddy sighed and lifted her own bottle, clinking it against his.

"To Wilson."


Several rounds of drinks later House was lent forward with a mischievous grin on his face, whilst Cuddy sat back and rested against her elbows, eyeing him sceptically. Between them a neat row of full shot glasses lined the table, dissecting the space between them like a metaphorical No Man's Land. For both of them, as a result of how much they'd had to drink, the room had lost its sharp edges and had come into soft focus.

"Nope," the Dean of Medicine said resolutely, shaking her head. "No way."

House rolled his eyes, and folded his arms.

"Come on!... I'm leaving tomorrow. Who am I going to tell?"

Cuddy sat forward and rested her head in her hands, both elbows planted firmly on the table.

"That's not the point… If I say it was with you, you won't shut up about it. If I don't, you'll sulk."

"I won't," House offered unconvincingly.

"Yeah, you will," she countered, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I know you."

Infuriatingly she did, but he was revelling in the back and forth they'd been having since they came out. On today of all days, he hadn't expected to end up enjoying himself.

"Come on!"

Again Cuddy shook her head.

"No."

Realising she wasn't going to budge on the matter, House pushed one of the shot glasses towards her.

"Then you know the rules, lady…"

Picking the glass up, she eyed the clear contents like an old adversary and downed them swiftly, slamming the small vessel back on the table and cringing as the liquid burnt the back of her throat.

"Your turn, same question," Cuddy said, laying down the gauntlet and surprising House with how eager she was to continue. "… But if it involves hookers I don't want to know."

Not one to back down, he leant forward and closed the gap between them, his eyes raking over her and not so discreetly admiring the view down the front of her top, before meeting her bemused gaze. Somehow, someway he'd ended up sat here with the sexiest, most beautiful and, no doubt, the most intelligent woman in the room. Not only that, he'd been lucky enough to know her for the majority of his adult life. Swirling the remnants of his beer at the bottom of the bottle, he knew there was only one way he could respond.

"There was this girl at Michigan… A first year med student with one hell of a chip on her shoulder." House stopped for a second and gulped down what was left of his drink, all the while gauging her reaction, but there was nothing: she was sporting her best poker face. "I'd see her around campus quite a bit. She was in a couple of classes I audited, but there was this one night when I bumped into her in this really crappy bar… It was cheap, but seriously it was such a dive. Anyway she saw I was sat on my own, so she came and perched on the stool next to mine wearing the tiniest navy skirt and a cute little white top."

"And what happened next?" Cuddy asked, still giving nothing away.

"We drank beer. We talked about people we both knew… One of the professors who'd hit on her. One who used to hit on me: the same guy…" He smiled, as the woman in front of him chuckled. "When she realised her friends had left her, I offered to walk her back to her room…"

"Then what?"

Coyly, House smirked at her.

"A gentleman never tells…"

Biting her lip, Cuddy looked out of the window next to them at a passing car, and ran her finger along the edge of the table.

"It's kinda creepy that you still remember what I was wearing…"

"It's even more impressive seen as you spent just as much time out of your clothes, as in them," her former employee retorted without missing a beat.

After he'd said it, House half expected her to recoil, but she didn't. If anything she seemed to have lessened the distance between them, and staring into her azure blue eyes he could see her pupils were dilated as she looked back at him. Losing his nerve, he broke the visual contact and grabbed one of the shot glasses, gulping down the vodka in one go.

"You know flattery is not going to get you anywhere, House."

Shaking his head in reply, he eyed up yet another shot, but decided against it.

"Who says I'm flattering anyone?... You asked me a question and I gave you a truthful answer."

Not detecting a scrap of levity in his words, Cuddy narrowed her eyes and scrutinized him carefully.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously," House responded evenly. "Why else do you think I had that desk dragged out of storage?... It had sentimental value for me too."

Casting her mind back to the day she'd walked into her office and found it there, she'd known then it was just as much part of their never-ending foreplay, as a kind gift. That night he'd walked her back to her dorm room she'd learnt the difference between the fumbling, awkward trysts she'd had with the boys her own age, and the pleasure she was capable of experiencing with someone who actually knew what they were doing. The desk had been the first available surface when they'd finally made it through the door with their lips locked, and her fingertips dipping into the back of his jeans, as he snaked his hands up her back to undo her bra under her top.

Butterflies danced in the pit of Cuddy's stomach, as she saw House smile at her cheekily. Clearly they were both reliving the same things.

"Sex was never a problem for you and me," she murmured, alternating her gaze between his steely blue, curious eyes and his lips.

"No it wasn't."


After finishing their drinks they found themselves out in the night air minutes later, House wrapping his jacket around Cuddy's shoulders when he saw her shivering in response to the change of temperature. Setting off back to the house, they'd only walked a couple of paces when he felt the back of her hand nudging against his and wordlessly accepted it, lacing his fingers tightly through hers.

15 minutes later, after leisurely meandering back, House looked on as Cuddy pulled the keys from her bag and opened the front door, her hands shaking slightly as she put the key in the lock. Staying just a little in front of him, his ex-girlfriend slipped off his jacket and hung it up and then toed off her heels and left them at the bottom of the stairs, before walking through her home and turning on the lights. She glided through each room and eventually ended up in the kitchen. Reaching into the cupboard she pulled out a glass and stood in front of the sink, filling it with water, whilst he lingered a couple of feet behind her and hooked his cane on the counter, leaning back against the island.

Watching her drain down the beaker of water, House couldn't help but think about what the guy at the bar had said to him. He'd lied to her about the majority of the conversation. The moment they'd entered the bar, he'd seen the much younger man clock Cuddy and watch them as they found the booth near the window. Sooner or later he'd been expecting him to come over and ask if she was with him, so when he had, he'd told him without hesitation that they were. For one last time he'd wanted her to himself. A little incredulously the jock had looked down at him with a smug grin and shrugged his shoulders, calling him "One lucky dude", and that was exactly how he'd always felt in relation to her. Lucky that she'd noticed him all those years ago; lucky that she'd risked employing him; lucky that she'd walked into his apartment that night and told him she'd loved him; and right now lucky that she could even bear to be in the same room with him after everything he'd done, let alone spend the evening with him. Yet greedily, something at the back of his mind made him want more.

Rinsing out the glass and leaving it on the drainer, Cuddy stretched out her arms and hunched slightly over the counter in front of her, oxygen entering her lungs faster than it usually did.

Something was about to happen and they both knew it.

"This is a really bad idea," House offered meekly, as the beautiful woman in front of him turned round to face him; his own rapid breathing now matching hers.

"I know."

Seconds stretched out like minutes as they eyed each other with a mixture of nervousness, lust and a whole plethora of other emotions. This wouldn't exactly be baggage free fun, but neither one of them were prepared to focus on what had gone before, or indeed what would happen after. For nearly three weeks they'd skirted round each other out of a sense of duty to Wilson and self-preservation, but now a combination of circumstance, alcohol and an aching need to be close to one another, was making those barriers fall away and compelling them to act on how they were feeling. Their world had just shifted so much, and in that moment all they wanted to do was cling onto each other like a raft in the open sea. The atmosphere in the room was thick with tension.

Not being able to bear the inaction any longer, Cuddy practically launched herself at House, standing on her tiptoes and pulling him into a ravenous embrace, which he duly reciprocated; two pairs of hands raking over the body in front of them hungrily. It wasn't enough though. Reluctantly she pulled away and opened her eyes to see his heavy eyelids flicker open and his Adam's apple bob up and down as he gulped, betraying his nerves.

"Not here," she whispered into his ear, letting her hand find his and waiting for him to nod his ascent, before turning and leading him into the living room.

Shifting her eyes quickly from one side of the room to the other, Cuddy decided against both her room and the guest room and span on her heel back round to face him. Again House looked nervous, and she could sense he expected her to end this any second. Letting go of her grasp on him, she crossed her arms over herself and gripped the hem of her jumper, pulling it over her head and dropping it onto the floor at the side of her. In response she saw her ex's jaw drop for a fraction of a second before his gaze moved appreciatively over her, and he stepped forward to re-establish contact. Hesitantly at first he latched his mouth onto hers, deepening the kiss and smoothing the tips of his fingers over the expanse of bare skin on her back.

As their hearts thumped in their chests, they awkwardly scooted their way over to the sofa, House laying her down and eagerly straddling her, in the meantime her hands reaching out to undo his belt. Leaning forward he focused his attention on her neck, alternating between nipping and kissing at the skin there and eliciting the sexy little moans he'd always loved mining from her. Feeling her hand rub against the length of him through his jeans, he focused his attention lower, gently grazing his teeth over her nipple through the lace of her bra, as his hands fumbled with the button on her waistband. Successfully popping it open, House moved his mouth lower still, feathering kisses down Cuddy's stomach, and smiling as she wriggled when he rubbed his beard delicately against her. She'd always been ticklish there, and he prized being one of the few people who was privy to that knowledge.

Slipping his fingers into the sides of her jeans and panties he inched them down, when something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Raising his head to get a better view, he found himself looking down at a faded, white scar just below her abdomen and froze. Seconds ticked by where he felt paralysed and rooted to the spot like a rabbit in the headlamps, eventually making Cuddy aware of the loss of contact. Opening her eyes to see what was wrong she saw where his line of vision was locked, and instantly sobered up, panic setting in like water flooding into a basement.

"House," she said cautiously, but there was no response. He was still mesmerised. Once more she spoke. "House."

This time he did hear her and it bound him to action; his foot planting on the floor allowing him to swing his bad leg off her, and take two steps backwards, as fear and confusion spread across his features.

This wasn't happening. He had to be hallucinating.

Without a word he turned and limped as fast as he could, stopping when he found himself in the guest room and at the bottom of the bed where Wilson had died that morning. Feeling the bile rising in the back of his throat, House knew he had to get to the bathroom, only just making it to the toilet in time before the contents of his stomach made a re-appearance. Wiping his mouth, and dropping down to the floor, House rested his head against the cool tiles behind him and closed his eyes. This was way too much to even process.

When he opened his eyes again he saw Cuddy standing in the doorway, her jumper back in place and a glass of water in her hand.

"Can I come in?" she asked quietly, her voice wobbling as she spoke.

Seeing him nod, she padded towards him in her bare feet and handed him the glass, sloping down onto the floor herself and leaning against the bath. Not having a clue what to say, she kept quiet.

"Is he mine?" House probed, finally breaking the awkward silence.

"There's nobody else's he could be."

Taking in her response, he frowned.

"Did you know before... Before?"

Straight away Cuddy knew he was referring to the crash, and took a long, deep breath prior to answering.

"No… Julia picked me up after I'd finished giving my statement to the Police… Took me back to hers and I realised I was spotting." She paused for a moment and watched House rub at his leg, before continuing. "I thought maybe there was another tumour we'd missed, so she drove me to Princeton General… I couldn't deal with everybody at PPTH looking at me. I just couldn't… The attending asked if there was a possibility I was pregnant and I said no. I was so convinced I would have known… They did an ultrasound and there was a baby… I was already about 11 weeks."

"But how?... We were careful."

Shifting her arms around herself, Cuddy dropped her eyes to focus on a slight crack in one of the tiles.

"There were a few days where I forgot to fill my script… Rachel was sick, you and I were arguing and the Board were breathing down my neck over a lawsuit… You came round that night and we…" She shifted uncomfortably where she sat, realising how stupid and irresponsible this sounded. The times she'd heard similar excuses from patients were numerous, as were the number of times she'd silently berated them for not taking proper precautions. "I didn't think it would matter… I'm not the most fertile of people. I was older too… I wasn't even sure I could get pregnant."

In response House wearily rubbed his hand over his face, and positioned two of his fingers on either side of the top of his nose. He was tired, confused and now guilt was taunting him.

"You didn't have to leave…"

Instantly Cuddy's head snapped up, and regarded him, he eyes wide open with incredulity.

"Are you kidding me?" she snapped, shocking him with her sudden anger.

"No," he eventually offered feebly.

Letting her head fall back, the Dean of Medicine let out an ironic chuckle.

"You know, straight after I was so determined you weren't going to force me out… There were all these people milling around. Firemen, policemen… my neighbours gawping at me and the gaping hole you'd made in my home, and I made myself a promise there and then… I wasn't going to run away…" Feeling a tear fall down her cheek, Cuddy wiped it with the back of her hand. "Then I saw my baby and I knew I had to… It's one thing everybody knowing somebody hurt you as much as you hurt me, it's something else everybody knowing you were carrying his baby too."

Another wave of nausea flowed through House, making him pick up the glass of water and sip at it.

"I don't know what to say."

Cuddy looked him in the eye with her tongue tucked into the corner of her cheek, evidently still angry.

"How about you tell me why you did it?... Had you not punished me enough for breaking up with you?..."

"I… I don't know," he mumbled as an answer.

"Sure!... Of course you don't, House." Thoroughly pissed off, Cuddy started to get to her knees, fully intending to leave him on his own.

Realising what she was doing, her ex knew he had to tell her the truth.

"I wanted to do the right thing… I was going to bring the brush back, and tell you we could go back to being friends."

"And what happened?" she asked, resting back on her ankles.

"I saw you through the window. With your sister, her husband… and this guy…" Pressing his fist into the cold floor, he saw her close her eyes in recognition and went on. "I'd taken so many pills to numb myself, but the pain when I saw you with someone else… Someone who could make you happy… I knew I couldn't see you at work every day and deal with that…"

Cuddy shook her head in disbelief.

"You could have just walked away… You could have killed me or my family… Or the guy, that for your information, I barely knew."

He paused before he answered, and moved his leg slightly to stop it from cramping.

"I know." So many times that scenario had run through his head, and it never failed to make him feel ill. He was many things which he was prepared to admit, but he'd never envisaged being a murderer. If things had turned out that way there was no doubt in his mind that he'd have found a way to end it all. There was no way he could have lived with himself. With tears pricking in the corner of his eyes, House knew it was time. "I am so sorry, Cuddy."

On hearing the words, the tension seemed to fall from her body.

"Did I deserve it?" she asked, small, pear-shaped droplets flowing freely down both cheeks.

"You're the last person who deserved it."

As soon as he uttered the last word, he watched her rest the palms of her hands on the floor, either side of her, and let out the air from her lungs in visible relief.

"Thank you."

Several minutes passed as they sat in a much easier silence, processing what had happened and what they'd discussed. Rarely in either of their lifetimes had they experienced a day, which had so completely shifted the ground under their feet. This was all so huge.

"What's he like?" House inquired, tentatively testing the waters.

"Jacob?"

He nodded.

"Jacob." The word sounded so foreign, and yet who it represented, genetically speaking, couldn't get much closer to him. This was all beyond surreal.

Hesitating for a second, Cuddy got to her feet and offered him a hand to get up.

"Come on."

Taking it, House hauled himself up and followed behind her as she tiredly wandered into the living room, rubbing at a knot in her neck and grabbing an album from a drawer under one of the end tables. Sitting down on the sofa she beckoned him over and handed it to him as perched down next to her. Nervously he opened the cover, and was greeted with a photo of a tiny baby, wearing only a diaper and an obscenely small, knitted hat; tubes entering and exiting his little body, left , right and centre.

"What happened?"

"I bled through most of the pregnancy…," Cuddy started to answer, when he interrupted.

"Fibroids?"

She nodded, and the doctor in him reasoned that it made sense. The years she'd experienced miscarriages and failed to get pregnant in the first place all explained away.

"They were blocking his growth, so we waited until I was 33 weeks to give him the best chance… He had respiratory problems initially, but they treated him with steroids and I took him home on his due date." Flipping over the page for him, she rubbed her thumb over the tiny baby and the little girl who was looking down curiously at him, as she touched the crown of his head gently through the porthole of the incubator; her auntie lifting her up to see him. "The second Rachel saw him, she fell in love with him."

Watching her smile down fondly at them, House looked at Cuddy in awe. She'd been through so much already, and yet she'd spent the last few weeks helping with Wilson, and dealing with his presence with incredible grace and fortitude. In comparison he felt small, insignificant and pathetic.

"How…" His throat dried up, making it difficult to say the words.

"What?" his former girlfriend asked, observing him quizzically.

"How can you sit here and even look at me?... After everything I've done? Everything I remind you of?"

Sitting back a little, the mother of his child sighed and rubbed her thumb along the nail of her index finger, deep in thought.

"Every time I look at Jacob I see you anyway." She lifted her gaze and saw his eyes narrow in puzzlement, and flipped to the end of the book where the photograph of her and the older version of the boy he'd seen a couple of days earlier sat in its plastic sleeve. "Look at him House… As soon as Wilson saw the photo he knew he was yours."

"Wilson knew?"

Cuddy nodded.

"I showed him the photo, and within ten seconds he asked me if he was yours outright… I knew you must have seen it too when I found it on the coffee table…" House looked down at the picture and saw the mirror of his own blue eyes peeping back at him. His jaw dropped as he realised how stupid he'd been. Watching all of this, the woman sat next to him went on. "For someone so intelligent, you can also be the World's biggest idiot."

Cuddy smiled at him and squeezed his arm, relieved herself that this was finally out in the open, before standing up and rubbing her eyes. She had no idea what any of this would lead to, but right now she needed sleep.

"Can I?" the former diagnostician enquired, gesturing with the album in his hand.

"Sure… There's another one in the drawer if you want to look," she offered, pointing in the direction of the little table next to the chair. "I'm going to bed."

"Ok," he replied, seeming a little disappointed.

Not failing to notice his face drop, Cuddy bent down and kissed him on the cheek, before rising back up again.

"Goodnight, House."

Just as she started to move away, she felt his hand grasp at her fingertips and gently pull her back round, finding his eyes burning into hers.

"We made a baby," he whispered, the sentence charged with a mixture of bewilderment and excitement.

Biting her lip, Cuddy couldn't help but smile. He made it sound almost as if they'd baked a cake. So many times she'd imagined telling him, and in every scenario he hadn't taken it this well. He'd sworn blind that he never wanted children of his own, and yet…

"Yeah, we did."

Dropping her hand, he diverted his attention back to the images in the book in front of him, allowing her to get some rest. Backing sleepily away, Cuddy walked out of the room and left him to it, realising he needed some time on his own anyway.

Flicking through the album, House stopped when he saw a picture of Jacob sat on the patio next to the flowerbed, his t-shirt messily untucked from his shorts, gazing down with interest at the fluorescent yellow tennis ball he could barely grasp in his little hand. Resting his head on the palm of his hand, House didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

In less than twenty-four hours he'd lost his best friend and gained a son.