A/N-I appreciate everyone's patience, this is the last "regular" chapter of the story, but I will add an epilogue since so many of you wanted to see something a little beyond the current scope of this fic. Since I just decided to add it, it isn't actually written yet. I have another project that must be finished on a deadline, so I need some time. The epilogue will be done within the next few weeks, maybe sooner, depending on a number of factors beyond my control. Thanks so much to all of you who've read this re-write of some of the themes from 'Apollo.' Hopefully it wasn't too repetitious.

Thanks also for all of the feedback since last chapter: jkarr, IHeartHouseCuddy, HuddyLoveLover, OldSFfan, lenasti16, Suzieqlondon, precioussoulandsweetcheeksiin1, BabalooBlue, freeasabird14, KiwiClare, vicpei1, LapizSilkwood, JLCH, ikissedtheLaurie, housebound, chebelle, Boo's House, PAULA, byte size, CaptainK8, MrsBock, Abby, grouchysnarky, linda12344, Huddy4Ever, HuddyGirl, Alex, Fox66, Jane Q. Doe, LoveMyHouse, jaybe61, Guest, BJAllen815, Mon Fogel, bladesmum, Ann, devonfc and somebadhat.


-Imbalance-

Cuddy woke with her arm trapped against skin that was noticeably rougher than her own. She tried to move but her arm was tightly held in place. "Don't move," House mumbled, "you're plugged in. I was drugging you in your sleep."

Her eyes opened while she looked around the plain cabin bedroom. Stretching a bit, she realized she was far too comfortable and too tired to fight his grip until she saw him rubbing his thigh. "Want me to move?" she asked lazily.

"Nope. I'd hate to get your lazy ass up before three."

She laughed for a moment and then tried to sit up abruptly, "Is it that late?"

"Do you have a meeting? Who cares how late it is, we're here, waiting for Chase to call."

He felt her body stiffen as she remembered.

"Which part of this is making you tense up?" he asked. "Is it the fact that we're naked in the same bed, years after I was supposed to be dead, or is it the whole waiting to see if you have cancer thing?"

She didn't answer at first, tightening her arm around him a little, a tiny demonstration that she still wanted him where he was. Feeling his fingers following the cap of her shoulder, some of her former relaxation returned. "What did I say when I was under sedation for my biopsy? Did I say something or were you just trying to make me think I did?"

"I planted a few suggestions, so any impulses that you may have to wear tighter blouses and shorter skirts, or any new sexual addictions you may feel compelled indulge in, might be my fault."

"God, what did I say?" she groaned. "Or maybe I should be more concerned about what you said."

"I asked you if you were ready to die," he answered with unexpected honesty.

"I told you-"

"I know what you told me when you were awake and saying what you felt had to be said. I wanted to know if what you said was what you meant."

"How did I answer you?"

"You said you didn't want to leave. That it felt like someone was ripping your life away from you…again."

Considering his statement thoroughly, she finally asked, "What if I would have said I was miserable and I just wanted it to be over?"

"Then we wouldn't be here, not like this anyway."

She sat up completely, pulling the blanket around her body, "What do you want? If you had to answer the question right now, if you had to make a decision today, what would it be?"

"I'd settle down with a twenty-nine year-old former model who's tired of the spotlight. We'd buy an alpaca farm and sew really soft socks out of their wool. Is that what they call alpaca fur or hair or…I guess I need to do some research before becoming an alpaca farmer. Or maybe I should just make sure my former model has a background in agriculture," he said as he put far too much thought into the matter.

"How magical," Cuddy answered testily.

"Or maybe I'll find a forty-six year-old former administrator with an amazing body and control issues." House stared at the ceiling, consumed by thoughts of a ridiculous scenario. "What do you know about alpacas?"

She tilted her head disapprovingly and waited.

"Fine," he continued, jerking the blanket away from her, "if I had to make a decision right now, I'd want more of you naked, so we'll start there."

She quickly gathered the other end of the blanket, "I'm serious."

"So am I."

"Break time this morning," she said while she held onto the blanket more tightly.

"No problem. It's afternoon."

"Fine, you're right, it is afternoon, but still break time. So answer the question."

House bounced his head into the pillow a few times and he answered cautiously, "I want a place to live. I want…the things that don't suck to exceed the things that suck."

"What about finding a piano or…practicing medicine again?"

"Those things would be in the 'things that do not suck' category."

"What about…me?"

"You're also in the things that do not suck category," he started, a devilish smirk crossing his face, "things that suck…but don't suck. There's a special category for you, but overall it's on the favorable side of the balance."

"Does that mean you want us to remain in contact, medical outcomes aside?"

With a suspicious stare, he studied her, considering a response. "What is on your to-do list if you're OK?"

"I haven't really-" she began before they were interrupted by her cell phone's annoyingly tranquil ringtone. "Is it Chase?" she asked nervously.

House took the call, allowing her to hear only his undecipherable responses and a promise to bring her to the hospital in the early hours of the following morning. He didn't waste time or make her wait for an answer when he hung up, saying immediately, "I usually leave patient contact to my fellows, especially in cases of bad news, but -"

Cuddy held out her hand to get him to stop speaking and she requested, "Just give me a minute?"

"Cuddy, your results are consistent with autoimmune pancreatitis."

"What?"

"No signs of cancerous cells from the biopsy and your blood work points to autoimmune pancreatitis. Which means that you seem to have an autoimmune disorder. We'll have to manage it. Of course, usually this condition can be easily managed with a few lifestyle changes and some meds."

"I'm not going to die," she stated, needing to hear it out loud and spoken clearly.

"Of course you will. I'm not that good. But, with any luck, your yoga-loving ass will be bossing people around for another thirty years or so."

"You're serious? Why are we going to the hospital?"

"We're going to go to the hospital to do a quick ultrasound so we can make sure the inflammation is responding to your current steroid, and Chase suggested an MRI to have for comparison when we do later scans to monitor your condition."

"I don't believe it."

"You'll have to hang around long enough for me to really rub it in your face. It's sort of the ultimate, 'I told you so,' so I want a chance to cash in."

One corner of her mouth twitched into a smile before she wrapped her arms around his neck, the blanket finally falling away from her body.

"Does this mean you're willing to facilitate my gloating?" he asked, pulling his head back.

She nodded, her face displaying the obvious surprise and joy that she felt, "Sure, yea, gloat away," she answered while her lips met his, mumbling against him, "thank you. Thanks for being a rude, obnoxious ass and pushing me until you got your way."

"I think a couple of my performance evaluations read like that. Or at least they should have."

She laughed, the weight lifted from her shoulders was obvious. Leaning back against the wall, she sat still while thoughts rushed through her mind.

"You look tired," he stated with concern.

"A little."

"As your doctor, I'd suggest not staying up all hours of the night. You need rest."

She rolled her eyes, "You were the reason I was up 'all hours of the night,' if I remember correctly. Are you suggesting that we should have abstained?"

"Never. I meant that we should have had sex during the day." He waited for an appropriately admonishing look from her and then slid back down into bed. Patting the side of his chest, he motioned for her to join him.

"We better get up, we have to continue our Wilson tribute."

"Relax. We have plenty of time," he said as his hand found her waist and tightened.


An evening spent sitting by a fire outside of their cabin discussing their departed friend and the pleasanter memories of their shared past was a comfortable way to end the hours of their Wilson trip. They avoided the topics of greatest pain without coming to a verbal agreement on the matter. They also avoided discussions of the future, words about where they were headed or exactly what to make of their possibly reborn relationship.

When it was time to go, House gathered only the things they came with, leaving the camping supplies he purchased for the next occupant to find. They took the short, hour-long ride back to her home to rest for a few hours before driving her back to the hospital.

As they left her place, he pointed at the room where he had found her almost a week earlier, "What are you going to do with the death room?"

"The death room? It was my office. I guess I'll turn it into one again."

"Are those the only two possibilities: dying or working?"

"For that room, yea," she agreed, "but there are plenty of other rooms."

"I spent a lot of years watching you 'working.' I spent a few really shitty days watching you 'dying.' I'd like to check out the other rooms."

She nodded as she got into her car, "I would too."


Chase was waiting for them in the parking garage with Eaton by his side. When House and Cuddy approached them, House asked, "Did he give you a spot on the team?"

"Thanks to you," Eaton nodded, "or at least thanks to the fact that I kept your little visit a secret."

When the elevator door dinged and opened, they heard Taub's familiarly nasal voice, "Tell me this is a joke?"

Chase answered, taking the wheelchair Taub brought to them, "Not a joke."

Cuddy looked between them, worried about what Taub's discovery meant until he said, "You're going to take the job? Aren't you? Ultimately I have this feeling that's what drew you back here to this particular hospital."

Nodding at House, Cuddy smiled, "I knew they'd find a spot for you."

"Him?" Taub asked with clear incredulity, "who in the hell would hire House as Dean?"

Her head jerked toward Taub as surprise settled over her, "Dean?"

"Wait, so you…aren't applying?"

"What happened to Foreman?" she inquired.

Chase turned the wheelchair once she was seated and answered, "The board was scheduling a vote…he was on his way out. They gave him a courtesy warning and he submitted his resignation. So there's no need to hide the two of you from him."

"Oh," she responded with her greatest attempt at complete indifference.

"The board mentioned your name, from what Foreman privately told me," Chase offered, "so if you want the job…"

"They mentioned me?" her excitement was showing a bit, "You wouldn't want to work for me again, would you, Dr. Chase?"

Chase pushed her chair out of the elevator when they arrived on the correct floor, "Why not? With someone new there's so much to learn. After being well-trained by an expert in the field, I had years of experience learning to work around you."

Her grin fell short of threatening, "I need to concentrate on getting better…for now."

"And after that?" Taub interjected, "If you take the job, will you be hiring House back? Maybe we'll get front row seats to the free-fall-to-destruction ride…again."

"Give Cuddy a few months to repay me for saving her life before trying to get her to take a job," House complained, ignoring Taub, "and maybe she was right about that whole…getting healthy thing too."

"You're a born healer," an amused Eaton added.

Cuddy and House moved through the halls, still strangers in a place that felt more normal than anywhere else. Cuddy had an MRI and then she, House, and Chase went to a procedure room to do an ultrasound.

After the ultrasound, Chase put a hand on Cuddy's shoulder to signal they were done and said, "Congratulations, you are the proud owner of your very own, rare, autoimmune disorder. A much better diagnosis than pancreatic cancer. I'm sure House has already told you, but we'll continue with steroids and keep monitoring your condition, but you should be feeling pretty good in a week or so, and back to normal in the next few months." Chase walked toward the door of the procedure room and said before he left, "You might want to consider reapplying. You have quite a few years left until retirement, a daughter to put through college. It's worth considering."

House walked to the door after Chase left, locking it and returning to Cuddy. Standing behind her, he began to untie her hospital gown.

"I can handle this myself," she suggested, tapping his fingers.

"I can handle you better," House cockily retorted.

"Not much here to see right now."

"Even sick, your hotness is epic."

She reached for the bag that contained her personal belongings, "Oh please, you already got laid."

"And I want to keep getting laid, but I'm not lying in order to get what I want. You've changed a lot over the years, but you're always smokin'."

"You're delusional."

"Aren't men supposed to appreciate women for more than their looks anyway?" he asked while he looked down at her body over her shoulder, his hand swooping to the swell of her breast.

Her mouth opened just a bit while she watched his fingers close around a nipple. "Of course, looks can fade, change…disappear sometimes. I also know how I got your attention originally and how I kept it."

"Your looks may have originally gotten my attention and they may have encouraged continued interest, but what kept it…what brought me back after everything that happened, had to be way more than looks."

His other hand wrapped around her narrow waist, pulling her body back against his. With stuttered breath, she whispered, "I have no idea how you could want me right now."

"I've always wanted you. That doesn't seem to change. I think you could stand to regain some cushion, but not only am I a diagnostic virtuoso, but I'm amazing in the kitchen. I can help bring your ass back to its former glory."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, trying to mask how uncomfortable she felt at his easy acceptance of her weakened condition. Her arm slipped behind her, hooking around his neck as she started to give in to the feelings and eventually she wasn't just giving in anymore, she was an active participant. Her hands were on his hips before they moved front, softly tantalizing him through his jeans. She marveled as she felt him grow more aroused under her touch, still startled by the fact that his omnipresent attraction hadn't seemed to fade. With both of her hands behind her, she opened his jeans while his hand went flat against her chest, pressing against her body and moving upward until his fingers curved around her chin and he turned her face toward him. "What are you doing?" he asked, feigning shock at her actions before placing two soft kisses against her lower lip.

"Well…we agreed I should explore options in life that aren't dying or working. What better time to start than now?"

He groaned while she started devoting more attention to his body. His hands moved to her sex, one hand pressing against her and the fingers of the other hand slowly working inside her. "You're much more fun as a reckless 'live life to the fullest' patient than you were when you worked here."

She quickly awoke from the fog of foreplay and asked nervously, "Reckless? Did you lock the door?"

"What else do you think I was doing over there?"

Completely moving her body away from him, she asked with irritation, "Did you lock it or not?"

"Yes," he hissed, pulling her back toward the edge of the exam table until she was standing in the tiny space between his body and the cold surface of the side of the table, "would you relax? I just meant…here, in the hospital, so near people who worked for you…who might work for you again…"

He waited to see if she was able to sink back into the moment they had found a few seconds earlier or if her irritation had ruined the encounter for both of them, but she pressed back against him, and they seemed to easily return to their sexual haze. Leaning her over the exam table in a room that had once been the site of more clinical and unexciting encounters between them, he held onto one of her hips and guided himself into her body.

She was gasping loudly, trying not to make too much noise but admittedly as turned on by their location as anything else. There was a gentleness hidden even in the roughest of moments: noticeable even as he grabbed a handful of her hair so she'd turn her head and expose her still graceful neck, evident even as excitement built and he let go of his restraint to chase pleasure, and obvious even as she dug her nails into his hips while her body clenched down on him.

Their tenderness was most obvious, perhaps, when he held her in the moments after the stolen encounter, while he sighed gratefully and said, "I wish I could tell you I was starting to feel something for you again but…," he could see her defenses beginning to rise instantly, a reaction that told him so much about how she felt, and then he added, "…but I can't start having feelings if I never stopped having them."

She turned more fully toward him, whispering without a speck of vitriol, "Me too…, you colossal ass."

They righted themselves quickly as they heard someone trying the handle on the locked door. Without wasting time, they got dressed, Cuddy clearly tired from the day's adventures as well as the emotional toll. When they walked into the hall, Chase, Taub and Eaton were waiting with expressions that were unfazed, awkward and amused, respectively. Chase insisted Cuddy sit in the wheelchair and they began the walk to leave the hospital.

"The board will meet later this month to discuss replacements for Foreman," Chase said, his voice dangling the suggestion in front of them, "so if you're interested, I'd let them know before the next meeting."

"I do remember how all of this works," Cuddy answered.

"Oh," Chase announced more loudly, digging into his pants' pocket and turning to House, "this is yours. You owe me $900."

House stared at the key in Chase's hand, scoffing, "For what?"

"Storage unit."

"What storage unit?" the older doctor asked hopefully, taking the key that shined in front of him.

"The one I put a few of your things in after your…death. Or more like after I realized you were alive. I forgot the $300 in moving expenses, which you also owe me for, and I'm sure you won't mind paying because you appreciate what I did and what I went through to get your things."

"What's in the storage unit that's worth over a grand to me?" House asked as they continued down the hall.

"It looked like some things were gone before I arrived, electronics, things like that. I found a few things I thought were your father's…some little personal belongings…guitars…oh…and…what was the other thing?" Chase asked, looking around as he searched for answers before he smiled at his former mentor, "your piano."

"Indoor storage? Climate controlled?"

"No!" Chase answered, "You're lucky I saved your junk at all."

"The temperature changes alone…," House complained, "I can't believe you didn't spring for climate controlled."

"You're an unappreciative bastard," Chase said with unaffected calm, standing in front of House, unmoving.

"I'm good for the rest," House said as he dug in his pocket for a wad of cash that was far less than the requested amount and shoved the money into his old fellow's hand. Once House and Cuddy were on the elevator, she leaned forward and hit the button for their floor before Chase stepped between the closing doors. House turned to Chase and observed with an appreciative smirk, "I knew there was a reason you were Daddy's favorite."

Chase faced forward, trying to maintain a stern expression before a subtle smile emerged on his face and he nodded, "You're welcome."

Once House and Cuddy were driving away, he commented, "There are tons of words people have used to describe one or both of us: crazy, cold, condescending, bossy, childish, rude, controlling, sociopathic, sexy, brilliant, amazing…the list goes on and on. But one thing we aren't…at least to this hospital or the people in it…is irrelevant. We still matter here, as more than infamous ghosts that wander the halls."

A few hours later, after checking the storage unit to make sure his piano was still safely inside, they were back at her home in New York.

The following morning, Rachel and Arlene returned to find the good news they had only dreamed could be possible. Rachel hugged Cuddy with strength that seemed to come from the depths of her heart. Moments after the truth of Cuddy's condition was explained to the overjoyed family members, the rumble of House's motorcycle could be heard from outside.

Cuddy ran out as quickly as she could. Her body still weak, she was winded by the time she made it out to his bike to stop him from leaving.

He turned off the motor and before she even caught her breath she was saying, "Don't you dare leave. Not now. I need you here with me. I need someone to give my life that…thing, that irritation and friction, that challenge that it seems only you can provide. I want someone who makes me feel real, and who seems to feel real around me. And seriously, the sex? I am not ready to give up the sex. Life is shitty and dismal and disappointing, it's like the death room, like we're all just sitting somewhere, waiting to die. It took a lot, but I realize I want exactly what you want: I want the parts of life that don't suck to outnumber the parts of life that do. And our relationship is sorta strange, but we can be good together. We are good together. I got my life back, so I want to really live it. Thank you for giving that back to me, but it won't mean nearly as much if you aren't around. Maybe I want you to have plenty of time to gloat about saving my life. Maybe Rachel and I still need you around to inject some fun into things. Maybe Mom still wants to live her own life where she can stop by and annoy us without feeling like she has to stay here. I'm really good at creating stability and order and structure…and that is great sometimes, but it needs to be tempered. Without someone to shake it up, to try to ruin the stability I create, life is too balanced. It's boring."

House stared noncommittally, as he had the entire time that she spoke. He turned away, looking toward the road.

"Please, say something," Cuddy encouraged, "if you don't want to be here, just tell me that. If you want to leave, then go with my heartfelt appreciation and the knowledge that…this world still has people in it that truly care about you, no matter what has happened. Your life doesn't have to be lonely unless you want it to be."

He finally spoke, somberly, "You do need instability. And fun. And me. But what you need a lot more than that…is food. Remember my goal? The full restoration of your ass to its previous ginormousity? I was going to the store while you and Cuddy-the-elder and Cuddy-the-tinier catch up. I thought that would give you some time to gush about me behind my back."

She studied the way his eyes seemed so alive in front of her, but then her doubt prompted questions, "You're going to carry groceries on your bike? Enough for all of us without your duffle bag? Why not ask to take the car?"

"I was going to take the car. I was not, however, going to ask to take the car," he said as he held up her keys.

"So why are you on the bike?"

"I'm going to move it behind the garage. I can't get your car out since your mother parked the granny-boat here. So I'm moving my bike and taking your car," he said while he turned the bike on and moved it while she watched.

When he came back over, she was leaning against her car and he said, "Go talk to your kid, have fun. I'll be back in an hour." He leaned down, kissing the corner of her mouth quickly before adding, "You don't have to be lonely or bored either. We both deserve a life where the suckage no longer dwarfs the non-suckage."

"So we're gonna…do what?" she asked.

"We're gonna hang out for a while and try not being entirely lonely and miserable, maybe even have some fun. We'll figure out the details as we go because neither of us is exactly full of direction right now since we're both sort of…lucky to even be here. We can start all of that as soon as I get back from the store."

"Yea," she answered, smiling fondly, "hurry back."